A New Year’s Eve Romp, Part II

Abby took a deep breath and pulled open the iron fence guarding the abandoned Williamsburg warehouse with a loud squeeeeak. The frosty January air was making her hands uncomfortably dry. She huffed into her palms and rubbed them together in a feeble attempt at keeping warm.

“Does he have a gun or any weapons that you know of?” Abby asked Matt, shoving her hands deep into her pockets for warmth.

“I mean, he knocked me out pretty quickly, so I didn’t see much,” Matt answered, still disheveled. Abby was just thankful that they were all fully clothed. Just about an hour ago, Sadie’s bearded brother had walked in on them doing the dirty deed on his living room couch.

“Okay. How much did you say was in your wallet?” Abby asked with a sigh. Hunting down criminals in Brooklyn was not how she had intended to spend New Year’s.

The entire situation was incredibly dangerous and Abby knew that she was acting uncharacteristically foolish as she stood outside in the frigid night air hoping to convince a man who could knock the daylights out of Sadie’s 6’3 brother to return the wallet he stole.

“About two grand,” Matt replied, dropping his head. Poseidon the pit bull puppy sat loyally next to his owner, though it would take some time – and a helping of treats – to forgive them all for forcing his paws into dog booties.

“Two grand? Matt, why the hell were you carrying so much cash?” Sadie piped up, her mouth gaping and eyes squinted in anger.

“Drug money, some of it,” he replied, feeling too ashamed to nudge Sadie back when she punched him in the arm. “Rent and food money, most of it.”

“Why do you pay your rent in cash?” Abby asked, perplexed.

“My landlady is kind of a tax evader. I get a great deal on the place, okay? And she’s got a kid who’s in school. It’d fuck up his financial aid if the government knew how much she was raking in every month.”

“Right. Of course,” Abby said, rolling her eyes. Though she’d never actually say it aloud, she couldn’t fault Matt for nabbing a great apartment deal – New York City rent was too damn high.

Meanwhile, Sadie pouted in the background. It was just like Matt to take two grand in cash with him to sleep with a woman he barely knew on a shady street next to a deserted back alley. Of course he would be robbed by the woman’s rabid ex-boyfriend. Of course the first real conversation he’d have with the love of her life would involve drugs, strippers, illegal housing, and theft.

The tall blonde didn’t know whether she was really angry at her older brother’s decisions or the fact that they were so blaringly alike.

Abby banged on the door for the third time. Her rapid pounding could wake the dead, and if anyone was home – as evidenced by the faint flickering of a light inside – they’d surely hear her.

“Abby, maybe we should just go home or call the cops or something,” Sadie urged, eyeing her brunette lover. Even with her pink nose and wild post-sex hair, she was a vision. Sadie just hoped they made it home alive.

“No. I’ve already come all the way out here. And by the time the cops get on the case, this guy will have spent the entire wad on drugs or strippers or both.”

Abby turned to look Sadie in the eye. “Besides. I’m pretty much a martial arts pro.”

“Darling, you haven’t been to a class in two months,” Sadie responded. It was true: The museum had been experiencing record-breaking holiday visits – meaning Abby was spending most of her free time talking about butterflies in the conservatory.

Just as Abby was about to utter a sharp retort, a burly man with an ominous snake tattoo wrapped around his bald head, a stained wife beater, and steel-toe boots yanked the door open and grunted.

“Whaddya want?”

He dropped his cigar to the ground, flattened it in one hard stomp, and glared at the three humans and one canine, who began to feel very small and quite scared. Sadie could feel her brother trembling with fear beside her.

Determined not to break her poker face, Abby glared up at the man for a split second – and then she kicked.

Two hours later:

“Abby, I – I’m impressed,” Sadie told her brunette lover between kisses. It felt so good to be back home in their warm bed.

“Do you think I hurt him?” Abby asked, mildly surprised that she felt concern for the ex-convict who roughed up Sadie’s brother and stole from him.

“Erm…I doubt it,” Sadie replied, her long arms wrapped around Abby’s upper body. Sure, her “martial arts pro” had kicked Tezo in the balls, and the pain and surprise had stopped him in his tracks. Other than that, their encounter – though undoubtedly bizarre – had also been relatively tame.

“I am wondering how you knew he had a daughter?”

“The tattoo on his left arm: 12-22-2005 next to pink baby shoes. I thought he should know that his daughter deserved better than a father who puts his and others’ lives in danger to steal.”

“You’re rather convincing,” Sadie said, snuggling up against Abby, who was comfortably clad in a tee and butterfly-print shorts.

The pair kissed passionately as Zane sat at the foot of the bed looking unimpressed. The Persian cat licked his thick grey mane lazily.

Abby chuckled and looked into her lover’s green eyes, pinning her down by the shoulders. “You know, you can be trouble, Sadie Ann Sawyer.”

“Says the girl who marched up to a criminal and demanded my brother’s money back?”

“You have a point there,” Abby replied. “But let’s not forget why I was forced into that dangerous position in the first place.”

Abby turned her leggy blonde over and pulled down the snowman-print boxers she’d given her as a stocking stuffer on Christmas Day.

Sadie assumed position over her lover’s lap, rubbing her bare clit on Abby’s upper thigh in excitement. Abby slid two fingers into the younger woman’s dampening pussy.

“Someone is aroused, and it’s nearly four in the morning,” Abby cooed and tugged on her lover’s short blonde locks.

She struck Sadie’s posterior with teasingly playful smacks, rubbing her gently between each set of swats. Sadie moaned in response to her lover’s touch and rubbed her pussy harder.

“Not yet, darling,” Abby chided as she continued to swat Sadie’s reddening ass.

“Babe, it’s embarrassing. I don’t want Matt to hear,” Sadie whined.

“Matt is probably fast asleep right now,” Abby said, knowing that it was probably accurate. Later, the two would find out that Matt had indeed been snoring on their ragged old sofa, his feet sticking out of their old comforter and Poseidon loyally resting on the makeshift doggy bed next to him.

Abby pulled Sadie up and into a tender embrace. The brunette woman massaged her lover’s juicy pink bud with her right hand as her left felt Sadie’s hardened nipples under her T-shirt.

“I love you, Sadie,” Abby whispered into her girlfriend’s ear.

“I love you, too, Abbs.”

The two fell back onto the bed in a passionate embrace, limbs entwined and lips locking. Zane surrendered his spot and trotted toward the closet for some peace.

By noon that day, the pair rose to the unexpected sound of a dog barking and bacon sizzling. Unless Tezo had returned to grab breakfast before finishing them off, for the very first time in a long time, Matt had stuck around.

-END-

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A New Year’s Eve Romp

Matt took another swig of Jack Daniels in the drafty, cluttered nook of the bedroom he often referred to as his study. Papers strewn across the floor and ashes littering every crevice, his sad excuse for an apartment on Manhattan’s Lower East Side was far from an idyllic abode. Nevertheless, it housed Sadie for the better part of a decade after their parents’ tragic death.

Mr. and Mrs. Sawyer had never expected much from their eldest child – and they took every opportunity to discourage his creative endeavors.

“Mommy, mommy, look,” an eight-year-old Matt cried out to his apron-clad, exhausted mother, a Virginia Slims cigarette hanging out of the corner of her mouth. “I wrote a poem about a sunflower. Can I read it to you?”

“Poetry? Hah. You’ll never make it as a poet,” she scoffed, focusing her attention back to the meaty concoction on the stovetop.

Today, Matt was a semi-employed janitor and handyman, complete with a scruffy ginger beard and enough flannel button downs to suit a hipster army. He raised the half empty bottle of Jack in a toast to the enveloping loneliness and peered out of his crusty window to gaze upon the heavy noontime traffic below.

Sadie and her girl would be here any minute and then he could find sweet relief in the arms of Amanda. Or maybe it was Sarah. Whatever her name, she was hot. Big tits, sweet ass car windows shattering mommy mommy wake up blood spattering sirens wailing help me HELP ME.

Poseidon the pit bull puppy, slobber lining the corners of his lips, trotted into the room with the promise of warm licks. Matt put the bottle down, where it was soon lost among empty beer cans, and stooped to kiss the pup’s floppy ears and wet nose.

Sadie and Abby walked arm-in-arm down the scaffolding-lined city streets, making their way toward Matt’s building.

Abby absentmindedly played with her moss-hued knit scarf, a gift from her sister Penny, who frequented the city’s Christmas street fairs. The brunette woman had never met Sadie’s brother before, and she wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

“Matt – he’s rough around the edges, but he’s a good guy,” Abby’s blonde-haired lover said with a reassuring squeeze of her gloved hand. “This time of year is rough for him, well, for us both. I wasn’t in the car when our parents crashed it – but he was. He saw everything.”

“I can’t imagine what that must have been like,” Abby said, regretting her choice of words almost immediately. Of course she couldn’t imagine what it must have been like – Sadie’s childhood experiences were worlds apart from her own upper middle class, two-parent existence. “You know, maybe it’d be better for us all to be together on New Year’s Eve.”

“That’s a nice thought, but Matt always disappears for a couple days around this time. He prefers to process his feelings with a bottle of Jack and a stripper,” Sadie said, her fierce green eyes meeting Abby’s warm brown.

The pair walked on in silence until they reached the front door of a dilapidated old building in the middle of a sloped, treeless street.

“Shall we?” Sadie asked and turned the brass knob.

The women made their way up the narrow staircases. In the dim light, Abby couldn’t tell if the hallway walls were meant to be an eggshell yellow or had been neglected for too many years to count. The tiled floors on each landing were cracked, and lightbulbs flickered dimly from the ceilings. Finally, when they reached the third floor, Sadie lead the way past a fiery-haired neighbor, who smiled frailly at the young woman as she fumbled with the keys to her front door.

“I got it,” Sadie said, pulling the knob toward herself, inserting the keys, twisting them this way and that, and finally pushing her weight against the door until it gave way. “There you go, Ms. O’Reilly.”

The stench of smoke and alcohol emanating from the woman, who stumbled into her studio, was almost overwhelming. Without a glance back at Abby, Sadie walked to the end of the landing and tapped on the last door five times fast.

Several seconds passed before the pair heard the thud thud thud of Matt’s footsteps as he approached the door.

“Thank ye, little sis. Poseidon would go quite hungry without ya. And thanks a lot to you, Abby, for putting up with a Sawyer. I know that’s no easy feat,” he said with a salute of his dirt-caked hand as he pushed past the girls and toward the stairs. “I’ll be back tomorrow at noon.”

“Missed you too, Matt,” Sadie called after him as she held the door open for Abby. Some things would never change, especially if that thing looked like a lumberjack and happened to be her older brother.

Inside, Abby took in her meager surroundings as Sadie lovingly unbuttoned the woman’s crisp new wool trench coat. A maroon color that complemented Abby’s long brown locks and tan skin, Sadie had saved up for months to buy it for her for Christmas.

The apartment wasn’t much – a tattered couch here, a worn bookshelf there, and a creaky old desk in the living room that doubled as a dinner table. They were standing in the kitchenette as Sadie grabbed each end of Abby’s belt and pulled the perfectly-curved woman closer until their bodies pressed together. Sadie stroked her girlfriend’s cheeks and whispered, “I know it’s not much.”

“Sadie. Oh, Sadie,” Abby replied. She began to kiss her lover passionately, only to be interrupted by a WOOF WOOF ahwwwwwooooo and the pitter pattering of puppy feet against tiled flooring.

“And you must be Poseidon,” Sadie giggled and crouched down, rubbing the three-month-old, chocolate-colored puppy’s ears. He jumped onto the tall woman’s shoulders playfully and they collapsed into a ball of cuddles as Abby stood, smiling.

“I don’t think our little Sadie can compete with this,” she said mischievously, pulling a packet of sliced pepperoni from her black satchel purse.

Poseidon barked, begged, whined, and yelped at the sight of the sliced dried meat, leaving Sadie panting on the floor.

“No fair,” Sadie scoffed, pulling off her Sherpa-lined corduroy coat.

Five hours later:

The dusty wall clock ticked past 11:30 pm. Sadie leafed through old newspapers on the living room couch she remembered all too well. Before plopping down, she had turned the cushion over to reveal the melted orange crayon stain she had created as a prankster preteen. Amused, she shook her head.

Even when she lived in her brother’s apartment, there were few photographs of her parents on display. Now, Sadie realized, there were none. It was as if Matt had wiped them from memory.

“I can’t blame him,” Sadie said with a smile that was meant to divert Abby’s attention from the sadness in her eyes. Abby, of course, could see right through the ruse. “He was in the car when they died. He saw everything from the backseat. It wasn’t his fault that my parents went on an alcohol binge when they got in the car to pick my brother up from his girlfriend’s house. They would have seen that minivan coming if they’d been sober. I wouldn’t want to remember them – remember that night – either.”

In the midst of slumber, Poseidon let out a low growl, breaking the heavy silence. Abby snuggled up against her lover and threw her arms around the taller woman’s long torso.

“I know New Year’s is a terrible time for you, Sadie,” she said soothingly. “But I’m here for you. I love you. You deserved better than what your family gave you.”

Tears welling up in the corners of her eyes, Sadie replied, “Matt did the best he could. He was only 20 when they died and he took me in. I would’ve been in foster care if he didn’t. He slept right here, on this couch, so I could have the bedroom. He dropped out of school, worked two jobs. I know he’s not perfect, but he’s all I’ve got.”

“It wasn’t fair, Sadie,” Abby said, her brown eyes meeting Sadie’s green. “You deserved so much more – you and Matt.”

“Thank you,” Sadie replied through tears as Abby’s red lipstick-stained lips planted gentle kisses on her forehead, cheeks, and the vulnerable flesh on her neck.

“Mmmh. Abby, what are you doing?” Sadie asked, clumsily kicking an empty pizza box from their earlier dinner off the desk.

Abby unzipped her lover’s aquamarine hoodie, which Sadie hastily removed, the tears drying on her cheeks. It was remarkable, miraculous even, how quickly the brunette woman could transform her from a defeated, moping mess into a passionate paramour.

Sadie smiled at Abby before carefully removing her red wrap dress and booties. She cupped the tan woman’s perky tits, her nipples teasingly visible beneath her black lace bra. Abby’s chest was perfect enough to fit into Sadie’s hands and bounce during a good fucking. You couldn’t ask for more.

The blonde slid her hand beneath her lover’s black tights and between her legs, feeling her throbbing clit and warm, growing wetness.

Thoroughly aroused, Sadie ripped the tights off the older woman’s body and cupped her firm, round ass cheeks. The blonde dropped to her knees and pulled her brunette lover into a sitting position. She pulled Abby’s thong down to her ankles. Abby sighed in pleasure and clenched her hardened nipples.

The toned woman barely had time to let out another moan before Sadie planted her face in her exposed wet pussy.

“Oh, Jesus, oh Jesus,” she cried in ecstasy, legs spread wide across the sofa.

Sadie tasted her girlfriend’s salty wetness and teased Abby’s clit with licks and flicks. Finally, with Abby crying out for more, she sucked ever so gently on her throbbing pink bud.

“Jesus Christ,” Abby cried, her fingers grasping Sadie’s short locks. “God Almighty. Holy Ghost.”

Abby could never shake her Catholic upbringing, Sadie thought as hot juice ran down her lips and onto her T-shirt.

“Mmmmh,” Abby cried. “No. No. Yes yes yes yes yes.”

Abby’s body tensed as she reached the height of her pleasure – and then all the world came crashing down around her. Seconds later, her eyes fluttered open to Sadie’s warm kisses on her upper torso. As the ball dropped on the staticy T.V. in the corner of the room, Sadie made her way up her lover’s body with kisses.

5 – Sadie gently nuzzled the nooks of Abby’s arms

4 – Sadie licked Abby’s right nipple seductively

3, 2, 1 – Sadie sucked on Abby’s neck, leaving a bright red bruise from where she teased and bit the delicate skin

Happy New Year! Crowds chanted, kissed, and cheered on television as Sadie’s lips met Abby’s for a passionate kiss.

Before they could indulge in more carnal festivities, however, the couple heard the distinct jingling of keys. Before either of them could think, the door burst open and in tumbled Matt, bloody-nosed and shirtless.

“Houston, we have a problem,” he muttered through ragged breaths.

And without another word, Sadie’s 6’3 brother hit the floor with a loud thud.

-TO BE CONTINUED- 

Sadie’s Wake Up Call

Sadie was fast asleep, her golden locks frizzy and matted against the pillows, her slim legs wrapped around the royal blue comforter she shared (or was supposed to share) with Abby. Her leggy tomboy was always a blanket hog, Abby mused, as she brushed her rosy lips against the younger woman’s cheek.

“Mmmmh—wha?” Sadie asked drearily as she swatted the brunette away. “Just a few more minutes.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if someone had gone to bed on time,” Abby scolded as she pulled the covers out from under Sadie. The blonde had snoozed through three cell phone alarms after pigging out in front of the television until well past 2 am the night before.

“Abbbby,” the pajama-clad blonde whined. Abby had to admit that Sadie looked rather adorable in her Pikachu-print fleece pants and white V-neck tee.

“No excuses, my little brat,” Abby said. Dressed in a curve-hugging pencil skirt and crisp white button down, she was ready for her very important Monday morning meeting with the museum’s director of living exhibits—that is, if Sadie would get her cute ass out of bed.

Abby was determined not to let her girlfriend miss another day of work—when she was on top of her game, the up-and-coming graphic designer was virtually unstoppable. And then there were days like today, when Sadie looked like a hungover college student.

“If you want to act irresponsibly, my love, you’ll have to suffer the consequences,” Abby said, returning to sit beside the green-eyed beauty with a hardwood hairbrush. On occasion, Abby liked to brush her own long, wavy locks with the menacing instrument in full view of her lover, as a playful reminder of who held the power over Miss Sadie’s backside.

“Stop, I’m up. I’m up!” Sadie cried as Abby pulled her into position over her knee.

“Too late, darling,” Abby replied in a tone that marked finality. She pulled Sadie’s pajama pants down, exposing the groggy woman’s pale behind. She gently ran the bristles of the brush over each cheek, stopping at a tiny black bruise on her lover’s lower right corner. “Do you remember the last time you were punished, Miss Sawyer?”

“When I threw a tantrum a couple nights ago because our Internet connection was slow,” Sadie said. She could feel her face turn hot pink in shame. Abby had thrown her over the desk in their bedroom for a bottom-burning paddling.

“Clearly, someone hasn’t learned her lesson quite yet,” Abby said with a smack of her open hand. Sadie sighed and prepared herself for a lecture and spanking—all before her morning cup of joe.

Abby swatted her girlfriend’s bare bottom swiftly. As the force behind the slaps grew in intensity, Sadie squirmed atop Abby’s lap.

By the hundredth strike, Sadie was trying desperately to cover her reddened bottom with her right arm, which Abby pushed out of the way with ease.

“You know better than that, brat,” Abby cooed into her exposed lover’s ear. She grabbed the hairbrush from her side and rubbed the wood against Sadie’s ass cheeks, as much to remind her who was in charge as to prepare her for the impending paddling.

“Owww,” Sadie moaned as the brush landed with a THWACK across her tender cheeks.

“What won’t you be doing anymore, love?” Abby asked, her eyes admiring Sadie’s gorgeous backside.

Sadie, who was feeling particularly non-compliant this morning, huffed in response.

“I see,” Abby replied with a series of thwacks on Sadie’s sit spot, which made the blonde gasp and become immediately regretful of her own defiance.

Abby brought the brush down again and again, raining hard swats upon Sadie’s backside until the penitent kicked and screamed.

“Okay, okay, when you tell me to come to bed, I’ll come to bed, I swear,” Sadie cried, her eyes wet with tears, which she was relieved Abby couldn’t see.

“And why is it so important for you to go to bed at a reasonable hour?” Abby asked with a crack of the brush.

“Because I can’t be late for work,” Sadie said, embarrassed at her own poor decision making and painful predicament.

“I’m swat going swat to swat give you swat five minutes swat to get dressed,” Abby said, wielding the wooden implement mercilessly.

“Yes, ma’am,” Sadie replied. Now alert and highly embarrassed, the 26-year-old scurried into the bathroom without a single glance back at her put-together girlfriend.

Sadie shut the bathroom door and rubbed her bruised buttocks as she stared at the collection of red patches and darkened bruises in the floor-length mirror.

“No rubbing!” Abby called from the bedroom.

“Okay, Superwoman!” Sadie called back as she rolled her eyes. It seemed like Abby could see through anything sometimes, even layers of walls.

“What was that?” Abby asked, hairbrush thwacking loudly against her palm.

“Err—nothing!” Sadie responded, swiftly locking the door behind her, just in case.

Abby had left undergarments, black jeans, and a button down hanging on the shower rod for Sadie.

The blonde slipped into her clothes as quickly as possible, brushed her teeth, splashed her face with cold water, and ran her fingers through her head of matted locks.

“Ready!” she called, stumbling out of the bathroom. “Abby?”

“You might be ready, but I’m not finished with you just yet, babe,” the brunette woman replied mischievously.

“But I can’t take any more!” Sadie groaned. She knew she was being a royal brat, but she couldn’t be expected to be her best self without coffee.

“Get down on all fours on the bed,” Abby commanded, pulling Sadie’s pants and underwear down to her knees. “This will be quick.”

Sadie sighed loudly and did as she was told, raising her ass up and outwards like a sacrifice in front of Abby. Abby squirted a healthy dollop of lube onto the ribbed fuchsia butt plug and said, “You know, I was going to let you off with just a spanking this morning, but that was before you decided to be a disobedient little brat.”

“The next time I ask you a question, you’ll answer it, won’t you love?” Abby asked as she tickled Sadie’s tender anal opening with the tip of the 5″ plug.

“Yes ma’am,” Sadie sighed as she braced herself for penetration.

Abby eased the plug in gently, smacking Sadie’s ass as she pushed the silicone deeper into her hole. Sadie moaned as she felt each rib of the plug expand her tight opening.

“Get up,” Abby said with a smack of Sadie’s throbbing ass. “Pull your pants up.”

“You mean?” Sadie asked, her ass plugged and sore. She pulled her briefs and jeans, covering the anal toy.

“Yes, love, you’re still at my mercy for…oh, the next forty five minutes or so,” Abby winked as she held up the remote controller to the vibrating plug.

“Abby—on the train?! You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

Sadie didn’t know what would be worse: moaning on the train or sitting on one of its hard seats. One thing she did know for certain—she’d be getting her eight hours from now on.

-END-

Sadie Saves the Dinner, Part III — The Finale

Two and a half hours ago, Sadie was praying to God, Buddha, and Mother Earth that she’d make it through the night without having a panic attack of epic proportions.

And now, here she was at the local Waldbaum’s, the McCormick family Honda parked haphazardly in the sprawling concrete lot outside. Sadie was pacing through the aisles in search of a package of extra firm tofu when her brunette lover brushed up against her shoulder playfully.

“Aaaand here we have fresh mushrooms, peppers, onions, broccoli and string beans,” she said, dumping the haul into Sadie’s shopping cart. “What else do we need, love?”

“Er—rice,” the lanky blonde replied, snapping her fingers as she realized that the tofu was sitting on a shelf right in front of her.

Though Sadie was a happy omnivore, she figured that tofu was the safest choice. She knew how to whip the bean curd into a crisp brown, oil-and-soy-sauce-coated explosion for the taste buds. And besides, she didn’t want to poison Abby’s immediate family with under-cooked chicken.

As Abby ran off to pluck a package of rice from the shelves, Sadie turned down the next aisle and dropped a bottle of soy sauce and a bottle of vegetable oil atop the pile.

“Do you trust me, Abby?” she asked as her older girlfriend returned with two packets of Uncle Ben’s two-minute rice (hungry times called for desperate measures). The 28-year-old brunette was a vision in her little black dress and smokey eyes, though she did have a knot sitting on the side of her head, which Sadie thought best not to mention right now.

“Only when there’s no alcohol around,” Abby responded with a wink.

Sadie rolled her brilliant emerald eyes at the cheeky remark and wheeled the increasingly populated cart down the baking aisle. “The Pillsbury Doughboy always comes through,” she said as she grabbed a box of cake mix and chocolate frosting and sprinted toward checkout.

Later that night:

“Sadie, that was délicieux! Delizioso! Gostoso!” Abby exclaimed as she nestled her head in Sadie’s fleshy shoulder nook.

“Oh, Abby, it was nothing,” the thinner woman said, running her fingers through her short golden locks.

In reality, it was most definitely something. When Abby returned to her parents’ house with Sadie, the blonde got straight to work slicing and dicing veggies, greasing pans, and sprinkling soy sauce over everything as she assigned Abby the task of preparing batter and lining cupcake trays.

A mere half hour after they started, Prue and Penny were fighting over the last scoop of stir fry as Sadie and Abby rose from the polished glass dining room table to frost and sprinkle cupcakes in the kitchen.

“You know, my family devoured that meal,” Abby replied, planting a firm kiss on Sadie’s cheek. As Sadie wiped red lipstick off her face with the back of her hand, Abby continued, “My family adores you as much as they enjoyed your food. You were incredible tonight, love.”

Not to mention incredibly sexy. It took all of the willpower Abby could muster up not to mount her green-eyed lover right on her mother’s antique dining room table.

“Where did you learn how to make that, and why haven’t you made any of it for me?” Abby asked, pouting.

“I watched my mom cook when I was younger,” Sadie said, not meeting Abby’s eyes, a signal to Abby not to press further. Sadie’s mother had been killed in a tragic car accident when Sadie was just 11, and she still had trouble opening up about it.

“You know, Abby, you don’t have to be so perfect all the time,” Sadie said, massaging her lover’s neck. “I know you’re probably still beating yourself up over being late and forgetting to call in dinner, but it happens. It’s understandable. You work so hard and you put so much pressure on yourself. You need to relax, okay?”

“Yeah,” Abby responded, pressing her ear against Sadie’s chest to catch the rapid pounding of her lover’s heart through her racer-back tank.

“I mean it,” Sadie said, gently nudging her bra-and-panty-clad lover off of her chest. She pinned Abby down by her shoulders and ran her pink lips over the shorter girl’s full breasts and up to her neck, where she kissed, licked, and sucked the delicate skin.

“Mmmh,” Abby moaned as she brushed her fingers over her throbbing pink clit.

“Rub it,” Sadie commanded, momentarily removing her hands from Abby’s shoulder to remove the older woman’s lace thong and bra.

Abby mumbled in protest, but Sadie pressed an index finger against her girlfriend’s pursed red lips and said, “Relax, love. Let me take the helm for once.”

Abby sighed and did as she was told, massaging her delicate clit as Sadie squeezed, bit, and sucked her hard nipples.

Five minutes later:

Sadie struck her curvaceous girlfriend’s exposed clit with a leather fly swatter. Now that the tables were turned, she was going to make her love plead for a thorough fucking— and plead she did.

“Fuck me! Please, fuck me,” Abby cried, panting heavily, her brow slicked with sweat and arms tugging against the furry red handcuffs that bound her to the wooden bedposts.

Sadie ran her tongue down Abby’s chest and stomach, landing on her pulsating pink bud, where she licked, sucked, flicked, and massaged until Abby flooded the bed with warm juices.

“Oh my god. Mmmmh. Sadie, oh my god,” Abby cried as her legs spasmed and her body shot up toward the very height of pleasure and then glorious release.

Abby shook as she processed the aftereffects of her orgasm, then quieted and drifted into a euphoric daze. Sadie bit Abby’s inner thighs, snapping her back to reality.

“Oh god, Sadie,” Abby squealed in shock and pain as her girlfriend’s bites got progressively harder as she moved toward her neck.

“I don’t know about you, but those cupcakes weren’t nearly as satisfying as I thought they’d be,” the boxer-clad blonde said playfully.

Sadie reached over to the dresser and grabbed Abby’s favorite navy silk scarf. She tightened it around Abby’s head and rummaged through the nightstand for a pair of handcuffs.

Once her bare lover was properly bound, the blonde lead her into the kitchen, dodging a sleepy Zane on the way. Sadie pushed Abby over the kitchen table and stared at her girlfriend’s tan bottom. She cupped her hands over Abby’s perky ass and knelt down, determined not to let nerves get the best of her. She could do this, she decided. She had longed to do this, ever since a past flame named Melissa positioned the blonde on all fours atop their Queens motel room mattress, where she’d lick, suck, and penetrate Sadie’s exposed asshole with her tongue. Sadie was a mere 22 to Melissa’s 40 at the time, but M always made it a point to offer Sadie a generous supply of pot and chips.

But this time, there was more at stake than a week’s worth of dope.

“Abby, I’m going to try something different tonight,” Sadie said, carefully separating Abby’s cheeks to expose her tender hole. “If anything feels wrong, say ‘pineapple’, okay?”

“Mmmmh,” Abby mumbled, loosening her muscles as she felt the tip of Sadie’s tongue circle her opening. Sadie tickled and sucked her pink asshole, finally inserting the tip of her tongue into it.

Abby hadn’t felt so defenseless and so free in a long time. Sadie continued to lick and flick as she squeezed and smacked her lover’s fleshy bottom.

Abby moaned in pleasure. Though she wished she could toy with her wet pussy, she enjoyed being completely at the mercy of her leggy blonde lover.

After licking Abby’s opening one final time, Sadie rose, picked a pillow off the sofa, unlocked the handcuffs, and turned her gasping girlfriend over. She lovingly placed the pillow beneath Abby’s head and stroked the trimmed black hair over her pussy.

“I think someone liked that,” Sadie said as she pulled her middle and index fingers—now slicked with juice—out of Abby’s warm pussy. “Do you want more?”

“Yes, Sadie, please give me more,” Abby responded, squeezing her erect nipples and feeling the wetness between her legs.

“I can’t hear you,” Sadie teased as she chuckled with delight. Being dominant was a lot of fun—she could get used to this.

“YES, Sadie. Please fuck me.”

“Where?” Sadie asked playfully, inserting her wet index finger into Abby’s tight asshole.

“Mmmh, in the pussy,” Abby responded, her hole enveloping Sadie’s finger.

“I’ll be right back,” Sadie said.

Zane gave her a curious look as she darted off into the bedroom, wondering how his blonde owner could find anything else more exciting than paying attention to him.

Sadie pulled opened the bottom dresser drawer and sifted through their plastic toy chest, removing a sterilized black dildo and the harness that Abby typically used to fuck her after an erotic spanking. The black dildo was fat and long, but Sadie knew that Abby, who typically preferred a trio of fingers to a silicone dildo, was horny enough to take it.

Sadie returned wearing the strap on, which she adjusted several times for fit, and stood over Abby. The taller girl pinched her exposed girlfriend’s nipples and ran her fingers along the toned woman’s flat stomach before carefully inserting the dildo into her lover’s expanding pussy. Sadie held Abby’s left hand with her own and grasped the older woman’s hip with her right hand as she thrusted—slowly at first, and then with a steady pounding.

“Faster! Faster! Oh my god,” Abby screamed with pleasure as Sadie pumped.

Sadie spread her lover’s labia and massaged her erect pink clit beneath.

“Ohhh. Mmmh. Ahhh!” Abby cried as her body tensed, tightened, and climaxed for the second time that night.

“Oh my god, Sadie Ann Sawyer,” Abby said, removing the blindfold to meet her lover’s eyes. “What would I ever do without you?”

-END-

Fifty Strikes of the Strap

Note: This strapping takes place before Sadie Saves the Dinner, Part I

Sadie leafed through her girlfriend’s November issue of Scientific American as a television newscaster droned on about death, despair, and traffic delays. The 26-year-old furrowed her brow and wondered how many more times she’d manage to sabotage her life before Abby left her for a woman who had at least some of her shit together.

Sadie had enough self awareness to understand why she did the things she did (having dead parents and a drug-addicted brother were huge factors in her poor decision-making skills), but she wanted so desperately to change—and fast—for herself, for her future, and for the love of her life. Abby’s magazine hit the floor with a thud as the tall blonde crossed her arms and re-positioned her body on the tattered leather couch. Sadie quickly slipped into a restless slumber wearing nothing but her hoodie and striped boxer briefs.

Sadie awakened to her brunette girlfriend gently stroking the tangles out of her short golden locks. Eyelids half-opened, she looked up at Abby and felt salty wet droplets fall onto her face and chest. The older woman was kneeling over Sadie, but her chocolate-colored eyes were overflowing with tears. Sadie hated to see her love so distraught, especially when she knew that her actions (or rather, inaction) were the reason behind the crying.

Awkwardly, Sadie wiped Abby’s cheeks with the sleeve of her heather grey hoodie. Clad in a lace purple skirt and flowing black silk blouse, Abby looked undeniably stunning. She was also undeniably pissed off.

“Sadie, I am so disappointed in you,” Abby scolded as she tugged on her own opaque black tights, her nail snagging a hole in the material over her right calf.

As Abby ran her fingers across the hole’s opening, her eyes cast downward, Sadie replied, “I fucked up…again. I’m sorry. It’s a thing I do a lot, apparently.”

Sadie knew she was going to be punished and wished that Abby would just get on with it already. She hated the moments leading up to a thorough spanking—she’d take double the strikes if she didn’t have to deal with feeling so guilty beforehand.

“Up,” Abby finally responded, and Sadie knew what that meant from experience.

Sadie stood to face her long-haired girlfriend, who harshly unzipped her hoodie and yanked her boyshorts down to her ankles. Abby glared at her blonde lover, sat, and threw the exposed brat over her lap.

Abby teased Sadie’s pulsating pink clit mercilessly as her free hand struck her round bottom with a loud SMACK. She raised her hand a second time and planted a series of twenty swift slaps on her bare buttocks. Sadie grunted and winced at the growing intensity of her punishment.

“No wincing yet, love,” Abby replied, sensing that the stinging sensation was rapidly progressing into a deep burning. “We haven’t even gotten started.”

She stroked Sadie’s reddening bottom with the tips of her fingers, then delivered a dozen sharp slaps to her right cheek before applying the same count to her left. As Sadie’s tender posterior deepened into a rosy shade of red, Abby asked, “Now, dear, do you remember when my parents got me that lovely embroidered leather belt a few weeks after we started dating?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sadie muttered, understanding what was in store. Abby had only used the strap on her once, a few months back, when she skipped work to smoke all afternoon. She wouldn’t have been caught if she hadn’t fallen asleep with her lit cigarette in hand, which burned a gaping hole in their old sofa, rendering it unusable. Sadie shuddered as she thought of just how sore her bottom was after that punishment—she couldn’t sit comfortably for an entire 24 hours!

“Good girl. Remember how you admired the butterflies?” Abby asked, mercilessly raining slaps upon Sadie’s throbbing ass.

“Mhh,” Sadie replied.

“What was that, you irresponsible little brat?” Abby asked, slapping each cheek with a harsh stroke.

“Yes. Yes, I remember, Abby,” Sadie cried out, more from embarrassment than pain. By now, her face was almost as red as her posterior. “There were all different kinds of butterflies on the belt. And I admired how strong the leather was. God, can we just get this over with? This is torture.”

“I’m sorry, dear, but I wish you’d thought of that when you left me at my parents’ house for three hours tonight and didn’t show up for dinner. Get up and lean over the couch,” Abby commanded.

As Sadie bent over to receive her impending strapping, she heard the older woman rustling around their bedroom for the belt. As Abby’s footsteps came closer, Sadie took a deep breath.

The belt-wielding brunette walked up behind her, her composure masking a deep anger, grabbed Sadie’s hips, and started massaging the naked woman’s shoulders. Sadie looked back and saw the belt wrapped across Abby’s skirt, a painful reminder of what was to come. As Abby’s long fingers rubbed the knots out of Sadie’s upper back, the blonde girl panted in pain and ecstasy.

“This is going to be pretty harsh, okay?” Abby reminded her lover. “But I think you can handle it.”

“Abby, I’m sorry,” Sadie responded, feeling more vulnerable than she had in quite some time.

“I know. That’s how I know you’re ready for this.”

Abby carefully unbuckled her belt and pushed Sadie’s smooth back downward, causing her defenseless bottom to jut high into the air.

“I’m going to slap you 50 times,” Abby said definitively. “And I want you to count each stroke.” She had never demanded that Sadie count out each stroke before, but tonight, Abby was intent on driving her message home.

“Ready?” Abby asked. Before Sadie could respond, she struck—hard.

“Owww! One,” Sadie said, her eyes glued to the scratches on the sofa, courtesy of Zane, their mischievous Persian cat. “Two, three, four, argh! Oww! Geez, Abby!”

Abby expertly unleashed her implement of choice upon her lover’s bruised bottom, pausing here and there to let Sadie take a few breaths. As the belt thrashed Sadie’s plump ass cheeks, the girl cried “35, 36, 37! God damn it! Who are you, Xena Warrior Princess?”

Abby paused to chuckle. She was still pissed off and confused, but her mischievous brat could make her laugh at even the most inappropriate of occasions.

“Nope, just a woman you completely fucked over tonight,” Abby replied with a crack of her belt.

“30…8. Urgh!” Sadie cried, kicking her long legs.

“What have I told you about moving those legs?” Abby asked. “Let’s try this again.”

“38,” Sadie said, rolling her brilliant green eyes but not daring to move. She thanked the gods that Abby couldn’t see her face.

“And don’t think I don’t know when you roll your eyes at me, brat,” Abby said with a half smile as she whipped Sadie’s defenseless bottom five times. The blonde whimpered, but her brunette lover was feeling anything but merciful tonight.

“39, 40, 41, 42, 43,” she said, her bottom throbbing from the assault.

Abby cracked her belt again and again until Sadie called “50! 50! Abby, stop. Pleeeease.”

The blonde collapsed onto the couch, yet neither of them felt the usual sense of post-punishment relief. Abby was upset and Sadie still felt like every bit the fuck up—but that didn’t stop the older woman from squeezing onto the couch next to Sadie and holding the slimmer girl in her arms.

Silently, the naked blonde clutched at Abby’s silk top, half worried she’d tear it to shreds but too sorry and sore to care. The brunette kissed the top of her lover’s head silently.

She hated how Sadie broke her promises. How she drank like a fish. How she shirked responsibility and found it so easy to walk away from the people who mattered most. It scared—no, terrified—her. And yet, here they were. Abby knew Sadie was good and kind and smart and funny.

But would Sadie ever see that in herself?

-END-

Sadie Saves the Dinner, Part II

Abby liked to look like she had it all together. But in reality, even the most ardent type As don’t have it all together; they just put on a damn convincing poker face. The frazzled 28-year-old rushed through the butterfly conservatory—an 85-degree dome brimming with over 100 species of exotic butterflies from Central and South America—on an unexpected shift. Sure, the New York City temperature was steadily dropping (meaning sick volunteers) and the marathon outside made driving nearly impossible, but surely someone could have dragged themselves in.

“Don’t touch that butterfly!” she called out to a curly-haired child with curious fingers as she sprayed each leafy plant with water and checked the sugar water feeders hanging from the ceiling.

She paused to glance at a Ulysses butterfly, its brilliant blue wings spread, basking under a headlight. Sometimes, Sadie would stop by the museum after work, just to coax Abby out of the exhibit. From November through June, Abby was a butterfly expert stationed in the museum conservatory, which was occasionally as cool as it sounded, but mostly meant that she answered the same three questions over and over again.

How long do butterflies live? In their butterfly form, most live about a week.
How many butterflies are in the exhibit? Approximately 500 from 100 different species.
Can I touch one? Only if you want to kill it, and I’m sure you’re no murderer.

Abby spent her summers in research labs studying the insects and working with international butterfly farms to safely coordinate shipments of chrysalises to the museum. It wasn’t always the easiest job—she had to work long days and the occasional weekend—but it was rewarding to work with passionate people and one of the most fascinating creatures on earth.

As Abby greeted the onslaught of visitors passing through the second set of doors into the vivarium, Sadie rolled out of bed and picked up a note on the dresser that read, “Sorry love, work needed me. You’re going to be wonderful tonight—I’m sure they’ll love you as much as I do. xo Abby”

The sleepy blonde sighed, rubbed her eyes, and made her morning trudge into the kitchen. On days like these, she wished she could will a cup of coffee into existence. Sadie stretched her long, slim arms above her head and tried to keep her racing mind off of tonight’s dinner with Abby’s family (a.k.a. impending doom). She already royally fucked it up last time—by not showing up.

This time, she knew she had to—for Abby, for herself, and for the safety of her own posterior.

She walked into the kitchen and scanned a note on the fridge that read, “Made some coffee for you. I think you’ll need it. :)”

That was her Abby: charming, thoughtful, intelligent, and practically a mind reader… Sadie paused to think about her brown-haired, brown-eyed, no-nonsense girlfriend. In the photos, her father and sisters bore the stereotypical Irish features of blazing red hair, blue eyes, and endless freckles. But Abby was the spitting image of her tan-skinned and elegant Italian mother. Despite Sadie’s own good looks, she felt woefully inadequate next to Abby.

Zane heard rustling and trotted into the kitchen, leaving his long Persian hair in clumps over the worn leather couch in the living room.

“Zaney! You had tons of treats last night. Abby would kick my ass—literally—if I gave you any more.”

Sadie reached into the cupboard for his bag of treats anyway, a mischievous smirk on her face. “Luckily for you, she’s not here right now,” she said, holding her treat-filled hand out to Zane, whose sandpaper-y tongue scooped them up in seconds flat.

That night:

Suited in the plaid Gap button down, leather oxford loafers, black skinny jeans, and black bow tie that Abby had picked out for her, the slim and boyish Sadie looked like the lawyer or doctor Abby would typically have on her arm. Put simply, she cleaned up nicely.

And yet, something felt off. Sadie ran her fingers through her carefully combed hair, making it just a little messy. She fought the temptation to ditch the crisp button down and pristine oxfords in favor of a leather jacket and beat up Converse. Sadie tried to ignore the fact that her hands were shaking and her stomach felt like it had dropped about a foot. She was happy Abby couldn’t see her in an utter panic. She was meeting her girlfriend’s family, but it felt like preparing for judgment day.

Sadie grabbed the bouquet of pink roses she’d picked up earlier that day—a gift for Abby’s mom—off the dresser, shut each light, and locked the front door behind her. Abby had texted Sadie about an hour earlier to let her know that she was going to be leaving the museum. By the time she commuted back to Brooklyn on the Sunday-schedule R train, Sadie would be minutes away from Abby’s parents’ place. Perfect timing—at least, that was the plan.

But everything was not going according to plan on Abby’s end. Running uncharacteristically late (a young and overenthusiastic Girl Scout had attempted to dash out of the exhibit with a Monarch in her hands), the panicked conservationist bolted out of the museum bathroom in her little black dress, flats, and coat.

Abby’s heart sank when, minutes later, a conductor announced that her train had stalled due to a switch problem at 59th Street. Sadie would be on her way right now and she was stuck in Manhattan, wedged between a ukulele-strumming hipster and a teenager applying inch-long faux lashes.

Dianne led Sadie through Abby’s childhood home—a sprawling, four-bedroom Victorian on Shore Road. Mere minutes from the Verrazano Bridge, it was one of the prettiest—and most expensive—neighborhoods in Brooklyn. Donning a pristine white silk blouse and fitted dark wash jeans, Dianne was every bit the regal mother and lawyer Sadie had expected. She’d flipped through the photographs, but it was still intimidating to look at the woman before her.

Sadie adjusted her bow tie for the seventeenth time and ran her fingers through her disheveled blonde locks in an attempt to tame them.

“This is great—uh—a great p-place,” she stuttered as she sat on a painstakingly embroidered salmon and gold vintage couch next to a window overlooking the frigid waters of the Narrows. “My dad and brother used to fish together. They would have loved a place on the water like this.”

“Oh, how lovely,” Dianne responded politely, flattening the collar of her blouse. “Do they still fish together?”

“Erm…no,” Sadie replied, staring down at her oxfords. “Well, they probably would, but my dad died when I was 11 and my brother has some issues with drugs, so he doesn’t do much of anything anymore.”

Where, oh where, was Abby?!

“Ah. I’m so sorry to hear that, Sadie,” the wavy-haired woman responded. She had Abby’s eyes. Abby’s were slightly rounder, but that same intensity burned deep into Sadie’s core, making her open up—maybe a bit too much.

Before Dianne could conjure up a proper response, Prue and Penny, Abby’s younger, wild-haired, freckled twin sisters burst through the door. At 12, the two were placing in state math bees. At 19, they were steadily climbing the academic ranks at NYU. At 22, the math whizzes secured jobs as associate accountants at major Manhattan hedge funds.

While Prue was reserved and introspective, Penny had a wild streak running through her veins. Dressed in a thigh-length Rasta tee, opaque tights, combat boots, and a leather jacket, she looked like she belonged in a Hot Topic rather than a stuffy office—she was just damn good crunching numbers. The shorter and slimmer of the twins, Penny rushed up to Sadie, who stood up awkwardly.

“God, I can barely reach you,” she cried, wrapping her arms around the girl in a tight embrace.

“Ma, I can see why Abby likes this one. She’s cute, eh?” Penny said with a wink at Dianne, who smiled and nodded.

“I think there’s something a bit off about her,” Prue piped up, despite Dianne giving her a death glare.

Sadie could feel her cheeks go from a flushed pink to beet red in two seconds flat as Prue approached her and tilted her curly head. The twin reached out, unclipped Sadie’s bow tie, and unbuttoned the first three buttons on her shirt.

“There, that’s better!”

“How could you tell?” Sadie asked, still flustered.

“Well, aside from adjusting your bow tie three times in two minutes, your face gives just about everything away.”

If there was one thing Prue was good at, it was math. If there were two, it was math and reading people. Sadie realized, with mild discomfort, that her worst nightmare would involve being trapped in a room with Prue and Abby. She’d be in trouble all the time. Thank the gods she wasn’t dating Prue, she thought with a shudder. But she happened to be seeing a woman named Abby, who was supposed to be here right now.

Suddenly, Sean emerged from the kitchen, a stack of Bud Lights in hand.

“Lovely roses, Sadie. Here, take a beer,” he said, tossing a chilled beverage to the lanky blonde, who caught it easily. Those years of softball practice in junior high paid off. “I’m Abby’s dad, Sean. I’m sure she showed you photos. If not, well, Christmas is in a few weeks and she shouldn’t expect presents from us.”

“Oh, Sean,” Dianne scolded her burly husband, who released a hearty chuckle.

“Speaking of our girl, where is she?” the retired stock broker and current chef/baseball card aficionado/house fixer-upper asked, looking at Sadie.

“I tried calling her right before I rang your bell,” Sadie replied. “Her phone went straight to voice-mail.”

“Huh,” Penny said, iPhone next to her ear. “It’s still going to voice-mail. Train traffic, I’m guessing. Guess you’re stuck with us, huh Sadie?”

“I’m sure it’s every woman’s dream to meet her girlfriend’s parents for the first time, alone,” Dianne said, smiling warmly at Sadie.

This wasn’t so bad, Sadie had to concede. She took another gulp of beer. Just as it looked ever more likely that Abby had been attacked by a swarm of butterflies or was abducted by aliens, they all heard a rapid tapping at the door. Out of breath, her lipstick smudged and her hair a mess, Abby stood on the front steps, profusely apologetic.

“Oh pant god pant I pant remembered just pant how much pant I loathe pant Sunday pant trains,” she huffed. Abby stormed inside as soon as a bewildered Prue pulled open the double doors. She kissed her mother on the cheek, hugged her sisters and father, and sprinted toward Sadie, embracing her tightly and whispering “I’m so sorry, love,” into her ear.

Hand in hand, Sadie and Abby sat on the couch. Almost as soon as they settled down, Abby glanced at her love in horror. The older girl’s stomach dropped as she realized that this dinner would get worse before it got better—if dinner even happened at all.

Because there was one major detail, in all the rush and confusion, that Abby had missed: calling in their order from her mother’s favorite Italian restaurant, which was probably so busy now that their dishes wouldn’t be ready before closing.

“Mom, I think we have a problem,” Abby said, pulling her hand out of Sadie’s and clutching her head in embarrassment.

-TO BE CONTINUED-

Sadie Saves the Dinner, Part I

Sadie’s blistered bottom felt like it had been branded with a hot iron. She had submitted to tough punishments before, but the hurt in Abby’s eyes would haunt her long after she could sit comfortably again. The tall blonde had fucked up in the past, but this was bad.

Sadie faced the wall, squinting into their dusty old floor-to-ceiling mirror at Abby, who looked pitifully miserable as she sulked at the kitchen table. Just fifteen minutes before, Abby was strapping Sadie with the tough leather belt she saved for major offenses over their frayed sofa as Sadie held back tears. Sadie was never good at displaying anything that could be taken as a sign of weakness.

Abby needed time to think, so she forced her girlfriend into a time out in the living room corner. The fit brunette’s eyelids were puffy from crying, but her irises were blazing with anger and sadness.

Sadie couldn’t bear to watch her partner looking this defeated. She wanted to explain herself, but how could she begin to explain not showing up to the special dinner Abby’s mother spent days preparing? No phone call, no text – Sadie had ditched Abby and that was unforgivable.

She could feel the older girl’s eyes scanning her body, searching for answers. Sadie knew that she was incredibly close to losing the only sense of stability, of family, and of home she had ever had.

“Abby?” she asked nervously.

Abby hadn’t said she could move, but she took a few steps toward her distressed lover. “I know you hate me right now, but –”

“No,” Abby replied. “No, I don’t hate you, Sadie. I know why you didn’t come, but my God I was so embarrassed. My entire family came out to meet you and you didn’t even answer my texts.”

She tried unsuccessfully to choke back a sob as Sadie dropped her eyes to the floor.

“I thought our relationship was stronger than this, Sadie. I really did. Why couldn’t you just tell me what was wrong? I’m not an idiot. I love you and I would have understood.”

Sadie wanted to tell Abby that she had no idea how to act. She wanted to tell her how utterly terrifying it felt to have to impress Abby’s successful, straight-edge younger sisters. She didn’t know what it was like to have a family – her brother did the best he could, but she mostly took care of herself. The thought of dealing with somebody else’s relatives was too much for her to handle, and instead of being honest, she pretended like everything was fine.

“I know I’m an emotional wreck, Abby,” Sadie said, her eyes still on the hardwood living room floor. “You should be with someone who –”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Sadie! Cut the bullshit. I don’t want to be with anyone else. I love you and I am not leaving.”

She stood up and brushed past the tall blonde and into the bedroom, where she picked up a pillow and robe. She walked back into the living room, draping the terry cloth robe over Sadie’s shoulders and tossing the down pillow onto a kitchen chair. Abby placed a kettle over the kitchen stove, turned up the flame, pulled out two cups from the cupboard, and sat back down.

Sadie tightened the robe strings around her waist, sighed, and plopped down onto the pillow. This was going to be a very long and very emotional night.

Abby looked at Sadie and reached for the younger girl’s hand. Sadie could feel her earthy brown eyes peering into her soul – it sounded cliché, but it was the best way she could describe what Abby did to her, how her partner could see through the layers of defensiveness and confusion and hurt to see the good she’d stashed away.

They sat in silence, fingers interlocked, until the kettle released a deafening hiss. Abby poured scalding water into the cups – Swiss Miss hot chocolate for Sadie and a simple bag of Lipton chamomile tea for herself.

Sadie stared blankly at the elephant pattern on her robe, wincing from the soreness. Despite the pillow, it was impossible to sit comfortably. Abby set the pair of mugs down and for a moment, Sadie’s electric green eyes met Abby’s wild brown. Sadie took a deep breath before opening her mouth.

“You know my parents have been dead for a while,” Sadie began as Abby stared at the floor. “I buttoned up the new shirt you bought for me and I realized that my hair was a mess. And then something came over me and I just – I couldn’t. I didn’t know what I’d say or what I’d do and I freaked out. Parents don’t like me, Abby. Especially not yours.”

To say that Abby’s family was successful would be a serious understatement. Abby’s mother worked as a lawyer and her father was a retired stock broker. Her sisters were accountants. Abby had never asked her parents for money – not even once – after graduating from Columbia University with honors. Always responsible – that was the way she did things.

Which was completely unlike Sadie, who barely made it through Hunter College by bumming snacks and cigarettes from sex partners and doing the occasional fast food stint when she got desperate. She barely had friends, had zilch in terms of savings, and worked as a graphic designer, which wouldn’t make her rich anytime soon. It seemed to Sadie like the only thing she was good at was destroying relationships and herself.

Abby took a sip of her tea and looked at Sadie for what felt like a lifetime.

“You have no idea how incredible you are, Sadie Ann Sawyer.”

“I don’t feel incredible, Abby.”

“But you are – you are. I know that your parents died and left you in this world with nothing. I know that your father was drunk when he was driving that night and I know that you tried the best you could to help your brother face his demons. You got out, Sadie. You survived. You still call out for them sometimes in the middle of the night. I can hear you and it breaks my heart. I know the people in your life have hurt you terribly. But you chose to open yourself up to me and you chose an education and you chose to keep a job. And that is pretty damn incredible to me.”

Sadie could feel the hot wetness of the tears streaming down her cheeks. Crying made her uncomfortable and she squirmed in her seat.

Abby planted a kiss on Sadie’s nose. By now, with their tear-stained faces and knotted hair, the two of them looked like complete wrecks. Sadie glanced down at her hot chocolate and said, “Let me make this up to them. I’ll buy your mom roses. I’ll be on my best behavior. I –”

“I know you’ll be,” Abby replied with a half-smile. “I rescheduled our dinner for next weekend before I left. I told my mom that Zaney was sick and you had to take him to the vet.”

As if on cue, the mischievous Persian cat jumped into Sadie’s lap.

“You hear that, boy?” Sadie asked as she stroked his face. “Abby wants to kill you off.”

Abby chuckled before taking another sip of tea. “I think tonight’s a horror movie night, don’t you?”

Sadie knew how much Abby loathed senseless violence and cheap scares. “Babe, are you sure? We can watch one of those booooring History Channel specials if you want. I did screw up today, so I kind of owe you.”

“How about we compromise? We’ll watch a horror movie, but you have to hold me.”

“Done.”

“Oh, and Sadie?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“This needs to come off,” she said, tugging at her love’s robe sleeve playfully.

-TO BE CONTINUED-