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.



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.”


“Oh, and Sadie?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

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


The Anniversary Gift

Sadie nudged Zane off the foot of the bed and groggily trudged into the kitchen. Mornings were no fun, especially early Saturday mornings. Technically, she didn’t even have to be up. On any other weekend, she’d be snoring in bed past noon – or until Abby threatened her with a paddling. But today was different.

She reached into the kitchen cupboard for Zane’s bag of salmon-flavored treats. He clung to her leg, purring and pawing at her knees.

“Owww. Chill out, Zaney,” she told the thick-coated Persian cat in a hushed voice, dropping a handful of pellets into the corner.

She couldn’t let her chocolate-haired lover know what she was up to.

Sadie opened an overstuffed drawer and pulled out a coffee filter. As the coffee pot trickled and steamed, she attempted to quietly rummage through the cabinets for pans and cooking supplies.

Damn it. If only she cooked more often, she’d know where Abby kept everything.

Back in the bedroom, the older girl chuckled at the sounds of pots and pans clanging as she leafed through her new issue of National Geographic. She didn’t know what impressed her more: the thought of Sadie cooking or the fact that she woke up early to do so.

Twenty minutes later, Sadie walked back into the bedroom of their tiny Brooklyn apartment carrying a platter of pancakes, eggs, bacon, orange juice, and coffee. Zane followed on her heels, hoping to catch a scrap of sizzling bacon.

Abby sat up and beamed at her blonde-haired lover, mostly because the food actually looked edible, but also because she adorably had flour all over her nose and cheeks.

“Happy anniversary, Abby,” she said as she placed the loaded tray across her girlfriend’s lap. “Thank you for giving me the best year of my life.”

Abby took a sip of coffee (with three scoops of sugar and whole milk – just the way she liked it) and kissed her girlfriend passionately.

“Oh, Sadie, this is lovely,” she exclaimed. “I love you so much.”

The two ate as Zane nibbled on crumbs Sadie tossed to him when Abby wasn’t looking. After playfully fighting over the last slice of pancake, Abby held Sadie in a loose embrace, stroking her floral-scented hair and pausing to plant gentle kisses on her eyelids, cheeks, and forehead. Finally, Abby rose, smiled at her lover, and said, “I have a surprise for you, Miss Sawyer.”

Sadie rubbed the itch on her nose and looked at the toned brunette inquisitively.

“Um…I know we don’t have much money right now, Abby. You didn’t have to get me anything, babe.”

“It’s not a thing per se,” she replied mysteriously.

Abby strode into the bathroom, reemerging after several minutes in a delicate black French lace lingerie set she knew would drive Sadie wild – and a long, smooth blue silicone dildo attached to her strap on.

Even without an ounce of makeup, her brown-haired girlfriend looked gorgeous. Soft skin, flushed cheeks, and bright pink lips stood in perfect contrast to her muscular arms and strong legs.

Still nestled in bed, Sadie gazed at her love with admiration and lust.

“Baby,” she said, stroking the blonde’s messy locks. “I need you to bend over the bed.”

“Abbbeeyyy,” she whined in response. “I didn’t do anything.”

“I know, sweetie. You’ve been so good today and I’m so impressed. Do you trust me?”

Sadie sighed and did as she was told. Abby took in her slim girlfriend’s long torso, fit legs, and perky ass.

“These need to come off,” she said, pulling the blonde’s boxer shorts down. “Much better.”

“Remember when you told me about that little fantasy of yours?” Abby asked Sadie, playfully scratching the bent girl’s back.

“I have a lot of fantasies, dear,” she replied cheekily, and winced as her strap on-clad lover slapped her bare buttocks.

“Well this one has something to do with – this,” Abby said, sliding the tip of her index finger into Sadie’s asshole.

“Mmmmh,” Sadie responded in excitement and a tinge of fear. “Go slow. And use lube, pretty please?”

“You act like I haven’t done this before,” Abby pouted. In reality, hadn’t actually done this before – ever.

Abby pulled open the nightstand drawer and slicked her right index and middle fingers with lube. Carefully, she slid them into her partner, who moaned in a combination of pleasure and surprise.

She could feel Sadie’s tight hole slowly stretching as she moved her fingers in and out, in and out.

“Does my little slut want more?” Abby asked.

Sadie chuckled naughtily. “Yes ma’am.”

“Well you’re going to have to work for it. Move your ass up and down on my fingers, and don’t stop until I tell you to.”

Sadie obliged, thrusting backward, taking all of Abby’s long fingers into her.


“Mhmm, yes ma’am,” she said, moving her hips in compliance.

Eventually, Abby felt Sadie’s movements slow down. Her hole was gaping. She was ready. Abby slicked her dildo with lube, adding an extra dollop for safety.

“If this starts to hurt, remember our safe word, okay?”

“Right. Pineapple,” was all Sadie could muster.

Abby took a deep breath and slowly, carefully inserted the tip of the dildo into Sadie’s hole. She teased it in and out before steadily pushing it in.

Abby glanced down at her lover. When they first met at an overcrowded karaoke bar in Koreatown just over a year ago, a drunken Sadie had marched over to Abby and demanded her phone number. After much coaxing from their mutual friends, she caved and gave the persistent younger girl her number. That wild and reckless Sadie (full of liquid courage, of course) would scoff at the thought of being so vulnerable. Moreover, of craving that vulnerability.

Abby smiled and wrapped her arms around Sadie’s slim hips. She gently started thrusting the dildo into her defenseless lover’s hole.

“Mhhmmm,” Sadie cried, reveling in how natural it felt to share this moment with someone she loved so completely. She never thought she’d trust another woman enough to let her in — let alone, into her most vulnerable spot.

The thrusts progressed into a rapid pounding that left Sadie moaning and gasping. She delighted in the ecstasy of pleasure and pain and how unguarded it all made her feel.

“Stay down, slut,” Abby commanded as she pumped the shaft into Sadie.

The lace-clad woman ran her fingers down the sides of her lover’s legs, and then over her hips and back.

“Oh, Abby, are you trying to kill me?” Sadie sighed.

“Not tonight, love,” the brunette teased, pulling the dildo out and removing her strap on to reveal a wickedly naughty lace thong.

She flipped her panting lover over, revealing a patch of neatly-trimmed golden hair and hard nipples.

“Mhmmm,” Abby murmured with delight as she brushed her red lips across Sadie’s glowing cheeks, moving downward and stopping to suck on the girl’s long neck before reaching for her right nipple. She flicked it with her tongue and bit down gently, thinking Sadie might come from the excitement.

She inserted three fingers into Sadie’s throbbing vagina and was enveloped by wet warmth and pulsating excitement.

“That’s my good little whore,” she said, pressing lightly on Sadie’s neck.

Sadie squirmed with desire. “Please finish me,” she told her dominant lover.

“What was that?”

“Please? Please, Abby. I’m begging you. Please finish me off.”

Abby massaged the green-eyed beauty’s throbbing pink clit, finally, mercifully placing her lips on it and cradling it with her tongue. Abby could feel the salty wet warmth as she began to flick, suck, and lick her lover to new levels of pleasure.

“Oh my god, oh god. Oh GOD,” Sadie cried out, holding her hair back and feeling her body reaching climax. Her muscles tightened and her mind rushed upward into complete euphoria. She came, releasing hot wetness, and crashed back to earth.

“Mmmmh. Mmmmh,” was all she could moan, eyes closed, her body paralyzed by pleasure.

Abby kissed her girlfriend’s inner thighs and wrapped her arms around the taller girl. Meanwhile, Sadie fluttered her long brown lashes and sighed a final time. She looked at the blushing Abby and thought, “God I have the loveliest woman in the world. How did I get so lucky?”

She playfully pulled Abby’s bra straps down with her teeth, and cupped the brunette woman’s supple breasts. Sadie reached down and grabbed her ass, giving each cheek a hard squeeze before pulling off her thong.

“My turn now, love,” Sadie said.

Abby knew they weren’t leaving this room anytime soon — and that was just fine with her.


A Lesson in Keeping Promises

There were three things Sadie was sure of:
1. She had stayed out way too late.
2. She was very, very drunk.
3. She was in BIG trouble.

Sadie rummaged through her leather backpack for house keys, her short golden locks slicked back from the humid air of the Brooklyn summer. She and Abby had moved in together just weeks before and the boxes (which she was supposed to unpack) littered their living room and hallway. With its creaky floorboards and ever-leaking ceiling, the first-floor apartment was a fixer-upper, but cozy nonetheless. For two twenty-somethings trying to make their way in the world, it was a start — and at least they had Zane, their wide-eyed Persian cat.

The hall light flickered then beamed with an intensity that — even through the front door’s glass panels — made Sadie’s head ache. Abby sprinted toward the door, a look of pure terror, and then a flash of relief appearing on her face. She opened the door and looked down upon her girlfriend’s stained white tee, torn jeans, and matted hair.

“Sadie? Sadie! Oh thank god,” she cried, pulling the lanky blonde inside in a tight embrace, the strong scent of alcohol and cigarettes making her cringe.

“Abby, I —” Sadie replied, but that was all the slim girl could muster before throwing up all over Abby’s new carpet.

“Come on. Let’s get you into bed,” the wild-haired brunette said, lifting Sadie in her arms like a child. An unexpected cross between a bohemian femme and tomboy, years of boxing classes had made Abby’s body strong and toned.

Abby carefully slid her lover’s black skinny jeans off and removed the beer and ash-covered white cotton tee as the tall, boyish-framed Sadie collapsed into bed.

“Not so fast,” Abby said, nudging the half-sleeping girl awake. “Drink this — the entire glass — and take these,” she commanded, handing her water and aspirin.

“Mmmmh,” Sadie mumbled as she swallowed. “Abby, I —” and then the world turned to black.

12 p.m. the next afternoon:

Sadie yanked the covers off determinedly and walked into the living room. She might be completely doomed, but she couldn’t spend another second hiding under their comforter. Meanwhile, Abby was busy scrubbing the carpet.

A rush of guilt hit Sadie as she remembered exactly what happened to the carpet, which had been a moving gift from Abby’s grandmother. Crap. The dull ache in the front of her head made her feel even guiltier about what had transpired the night before. What time did she get home? 2…3…?

“4 a.m., Sadie?!” Abby looked up and wailed. “What were you thinking?! You didn’t even tell me where you were going! I was worried sick. And you promised me you’d quit smoking!”

Doomed was accurate.

Sadie tugged at her boy shorts and sighed. “Abby, I’m really sorry. I’m an idiot. I —”

“Stop. Just stop,” Abby said, her deep brown eyes blazing with anger and disappointment. “A girl’s number fell out of your pocket when I was taking your jeans off.”

Abby knew that Sadie, with her bright green eyes and devilishly charming grin, always got girls’ attention. The brunette wasn’t concerned about Sadie’s faithfulness, but she still wanted to make her feel as guilty as possible.

Now dressed in a flowing violet top and dark-wash skinny jeans, Abby looked every bit as beautiful as she was deadly. She glided past Sadie, who was now blushing a beet red, and over to their coat closet to reveal an ominous-looking thick Birchwood paddle.

“I hoped I wouldn’t have to use this on you,” Abby sighed, and motioned for Sadie to come to her.

The typical brat before a well-deserved punishment, Sadie would usually try to beg, argue, and promise (in that order) her way out of a bottom-burning situation. This time, she didn’t even try.

Abby sat on their tattered leather couch (a.k.a. Zane’s favorite scratching post) and Sadie defeatedly lay across her lap. Her empty stomach grumbling and her head pounding from the long night before, she wished she had stayed in and watched movies with Abby like she had originally promised. She wished she had said no to the old friend who had asked her to go out for one drink. Yet, here she was — in a particularly compromising predicament.

Abby took a second to admire her lover’s cute, round ass before raining slap after slap down upon it. Even through her cotton shorts, Abby could feel her lover’s bottom turning warm.

“Love, I thought – slap – you – slap – were – slap – dead!”

“Owww. I know I messed up. I went out with Crystal from college. It was only supposed to be one drink, Abby, I swear.”

“Clearly it wasn’t. You – slap – left me at home – slap – and I called EVERYONE – slap – looking for you. Stand up.”

Sadie stood, bottom burning, and faced Abby shamefacedly.

Abby yanked the taller girl’s shorts down to her ankles and pulled down her bikini-cut underwear.

The first time Abby spanked Sadie was for skipping work six months ago. She could still remember the expression of purse shock on the girl’s face as she pulled her boxers down, exposing her bare flesh.

Sadie was just as defenseless now, and she knew she deserved it. Paddle in hand, Abby walked the girl over to the kitchen table and uttered one word: “bend”.

Sadie sighed and did what she was told.

“Open your legs, brat,” Abby said as she slapped the girl’s inner thighs lightly with the paddle.

Sadie spread them as far as they could go, feeling the cool hardness of the table press up against her chest and Abby’s long fingertips stroking her sore bottom.

Abby carefully slid her fingers between the girl’s legs and felt her warm, hot wetness. She kissed the nape of her moaning lover’s neck and whispered, “I’m sorry, love, but I think you need this.”

Abby stood up, lifted the paddle, and brought it down with a heavy thud onto Sadie’s red posterior. The blonde girl winced and clenched her jaw, preparing for another slap.

“I won’t tolerate this behavior, dear,” Abby said as she brought the heavy wooden paddle down a second time. And then, more gently, “I want you to be safe. I need to know where you are.”

“And —” she said with the blistering crack of the paddle, which caused Sadie to cry out in pain, “you must stop smoking.”

“Are we clear, love?” she asked, slapping her exposed lover twice in a row.

“Yes. Yes ma’am,” Sadie replied, holding back tears. She hated being vulnerable and almost couldn’t bear the thought of being submissive to another woman, but she also recognized that Abby’s — err — method was setting her straight. One thing was for certain: She was not drinking for a very long time.

“What was that?” Abby asked, applying a succession of three painful whacks to the girl’s red hot bottom.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I was so irresponsible and I feel awful about it. Abby, it won’t happen again. I love you, and I was so stupid,” she blurted out, humiliated. She couldn’t even try to hide the tears, which now flowed freely down cheeks that were almost as red as her tender posterior.

“I believe you, love,” she said, as she whacked the tearful penitent again. She lifted the paddle and brought it down onto Sadie’s rear one final time with a deafening crack. “It’s over. Come here.”

Abby scooped the girl up, walked across the narrow hallway of their one-bedroom (making sure to dodge boxes and moving materials), and laid her lover down onto the bed.

“Don’t rub — understood?”

Sadie nodded.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Abby said, and they lay entwined on the Queen-sized bed. “I love you so much, Sadie.”

“I love you too, Abby. That girl’s number…it wasn’t anything. I —”

“I know. I know, honey.” Abby stroked her lover’s blonde tresses and kissed her cheek, cupping Sadie’s bare breast and feeling her nipple harden at the touch.


“Sadie is that your…?”

“Did I mention that I haven’t eaten since yesterday’s lunch?”

Abby giggled and reached over to the nightstand for a diner menu. “Pancakes, waffles, or omelets?”

“…..all three?” Sadie asked, running her fingers through her hair bashfully. Bemused, Abby smiled and called the order in.

Re-emerging from a long nap under the bed, Zane hopped onto the comforter and looked at Abby as if to say “food?”

Both women laughed and fell back into bed. Sadie couldn’t wait for brunch to come, though she hoped Abby wouldn’t make her eat on one of the wooden kitchen chairs.