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" That's our Brian. Nothing if not thorough to the point of OCD."I coughed loudly. "Ahem, I AM standing here."They looked at me, and then started again. "I do have one bone to pickwith you, Lisa." What?" You let him go out dressed like Woodstock."Lisa laughed. "I tried to stop him. He's usually much better. Very AnnTaylor. Very classic."Melissa looked me over. "I could see that. Let's find him some moreoutfits that work better. Then we're burning that one." Boy," I said. "I think I'll go rob a bank." What?" they both said."I must be invisible. So, I may as well use it."They went back to ignoring me. "I see him in a nice pencil skirt andcropped sweater," said Melissa. "Show off those curves he has. That andthose legs." You know, this is making me a little nervous, Melissa. I mean we dowork together. This is a little too personal."She put her arm around me. "Relax, Brian. What happens in Barney'sstays in Barney's. This is just fun. Like I said before, no one isletting you go. In fact,. "Thank you, Mistress, for letting me lick the piss off your pussy." You're welcome, my little piss slut," she answered with a laugh.Next, Cathy took a shower while I waited with towels and dried her offwhen she pulled the curtain back. She sat on the closed toilet, and I wasallowed to apply fresh polish to her toenails. (She did her fingernailsherself.) At her direction, I applied civet to her inner thighs andbelly, then again dressed her in her camisole. Also, I hooked the eyeletsof one of her prettiest corsets, drew red thigh highs over her legs, andhooked them to the garters descending from her corset. She drew on a pairof jeans--skin tight--and a cute, off-the-shoulder blouse. I held a pairof strappy sandals with high heels and open toes as she stepped intothem."So, how do I look?" she asked, looking down on me with a grin."You are so lovely, so beautiful, so powerful, Mistress!" I answered, agenuine slave to her."Do you think Billy will want to fuck me?"I flinched but answered:.
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I put one earbud in her ear so we could match rhythms. “How did you know I was dancing?” she asked. Her head swayed with the tempo and her hands found my shoulders. Eyes closed, hair falling in her face between us. “You’re always dancing in your head after you get enough wine in you, you always do,” I said. She took the player and in a few taps: “French Disko” by Stereolab jammed into my ear. She matched the tempo with her knees and her hips followed. Her hands ran the length of my backside several times removing my shirt with one of her long strokes. I was in her trance. My mind blanked as I relaxed. It was like her intoxicated gyrations had sucked away all tension and irritation. Tegan offered a certain comfort zone. She feels like family. That freaked me out. Family? I thought of Aimee. Why Aimee? It hit me: Rachel. I pulled away from Tegan’s dance, handed her the earbud, and fell back to my position on the bed. I had to think. It made sense. Every time.

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