Chapter 11: We are family

Sandra seemed to have a near-spiritual influence on the group. She truly was unassuming about her beauty, and eager to help others excel. This brightness, however, was balanced by the demons of potential disease and death. When I talked to her about it, she told me that her pro cheerleading experience helped a great deal. “People have this mean girl image of cheerleaders, which might even be accurate at the high school level. Once you get into the pros, however, your teammates, and for that matter alumnae, can’t help enough.” She frowned. “The team management exploits you whenever they can, which is being fucked over in a bad way. Most teams also prohibit fraternization with the players, although I met Jerry after he retired. We sometimes sang together, which might not be a half-bad song for this group.”

We are family
I got all my sisters with me
We are family
Get up ev’rybody and sing
We are family
I got all my sisters with me
We are family
Get up ev’rybody and sing

Ev’ryone can see we’re together
As we walk on by
(Hey) and we fly just like birds of a feather
I won’t tell no lie
(ALL!) all of the people around us they say
Can they be that close
Just let me state for the record
We’re giving love in a family dose

We are family
I got all my sisters with me
We are family
Get up ev’rybody and sing
We are family
I got all my sisters with me
We are family
Get up ev’rybody and sing

Living life is fun and we’ve just begun
To get our share of the world’s delights
(HIGH!) high hopes we have for the future
And our goal’s in sight
(WE!) no we don’t get depressed
‘Cause here’s what we call our golden rule
Have faith in you and the things you do
You won’t go wrong
This is our family Jewel

Lucy assigned an apartment to Sandra, while Sandra was deciding what to do with her place. Sandra had a private dance room to balance against our larger, better-equipped studio.
It seemed most diplomatic to have Jill and I to go to Sandra’s apartment, where we’d get to know her somewhat better, particularly to familiarize one another with their individual demons. Before Jill talked with the glamorous Sandra, I had suggested to Jill that she might have one of our makeup and styling experts do her for the occasion, to which she agreed. Tana. whom we’d seen do an amazing transformation, was, overall, a wonderful stylist. Marilyn also did styling, although at a less dramatic intensity. By no means was Jill unattractive, but she did not have Sandra’s flair or focus on looking her best.

I told Tana about Jill, “Think of Jill as a fashion model -- not at all impossible with her figure and height. While I’m no expert, what comes to mind is something in a clinging or sheer material, maybe silky -- I don’t know the right terms -- with little or nothing underneath. Jill usually just lets her hair hang, but with just a little attention, it can become a cascade of gold.

“Hey, I really must ask. You’re an accountant and tax attorney. How did you learn so much about styling?”

“Believe it or not, because I have stage fright, I wound up doing makeup in my high school drama program. Also, before I had major college scholarships, I had a little financial assistance, and could live at home, if I went to the community college. I thought it would be a good idea to have something that would lend itself to part-time work, so I took their cosmetology program and became a licensed beautician. It did help a tight college budget if I could put in some scattered shifts cutting hair.” She blushed. “While I started out at one of those cut-rate hair cutting chains, I took a risk and started working at a high-end place, focused on a high-roller clientele. It was amusing -- a rather flagrantly gay man owned it -- but he thought it was good business to have sexy workers. Believe it when I say that my working clothes were on the provocative side. There isn’t a formal stylist program, but my boss did do some theatrical work and I went along. It’s been fun to teach styling to Diane. While styling is usually to support fashion photography and the like, we’ve been becoming pretty damn good photographers.

“Oh, also on the styling front, Sandra brings the perspective of a reasonably high-level fashion model. She told me that going higher in modeling, too often, was an entry to a really shitty world. But she also can help us make everyone look their best.

“Y’know, Howard, I can do things with your haircut.” Her expression was nicely predatory, but I was pleased with the results when she had her way with me ... well, not that way. Well, that way, but later.

So, Jill and I went to visit Tana. I can’t really describe what she did, but she gave a lot more body, and a little wave, to Jill’s hair. Afterwards, it wasn’t quite a mane, but it reminded me of Gloria Steinem’s best look. Tana put Jill into a slip dress that did well in matching my mental image. It was short, and in a satiny deep blue-gray that set off her eyes and complemented her hair. Lacy side panels gave a hot glimpse of taut hips and waist. Her makeup suited her well.

Sandra also was an expert in her technical field. She was almost as able as I was to work from home, except when she had to lecture. By and large, she did that in town and avoided being a road warrior.

She taught a range of courses, from basic to advanced networking. Her employer was OK with her having her personal students present. Gigi was one of the first. In a naughty mood, Gigi did not go to class in sweats, but first in a short-skirted suit. “OK, I’ll sit near the front, so people can stare both at the instructor and me.” Gigi also learned quickly. To some extent, she had gotten into the habit of hiding her intelligence.

“Knowing something about networking gives me ideas for using it for the household. Still, I think my first love is culinary and domestic.” The apartment had been served by external caterers, using a kitchen in the building. Gigi hired a couple of cooks. Before long, the kitchen expanded to serve the law firm.

Next, Gigi hired several more people, and began a gourmet carryout.

I called Dove. “My love, I think I might have some new developments that could meet one hell of your needs and interests. You and I talked generally about poly relationships, but I’ve recently joined a household doing that, and has a principal with lots of money so that people can do what interests them.

“May I send tickets for you and the kids?”

She lived in Kamloops, which is the fifth largest city in British Columbia, but isn’t that large by national or international standards. She had to fly from the local airport, or make a 5+ hour drive, to Vancouver. Even from there, no nonstop flights came to Washington, DC. Her previous flight was full of delays and even a rerouting.

This time, not only did we send her First Class tickets, but the law firm was able to put a VIP designation on her trip. She was amazed, when her small commuter airliner landed, to be met by a United van, and taken to their airport club. In the van was a uniformed airline representative, who explained that she would escort Dove and her children through, or around, lines. A counterpart would meet them when they changed flights in Toronto.

We set up a cheerful welcoming party, at Washington National Airport, for Dove and her daughter Dawn. Gigi, now definitely our household manager, arranged a pair of SUVs for us. She drove one and Art drove the other. I was in the lead of the welcomers, if only that I was the only one who had met her, to say nothing of both loving her and being in love. With us were Jill, Sandra, Marilyn, and Tana. Tana and Gigi flanked me, as our redheads meeting another woman with fiery hair.

I told everyone that Dove would be unshockable, including being quite bi. If anything, she might shock others if she got going on fantasies that she’d actually carry out. It turned out, however, that she managed to be shocked, happily, by my Scots garb, wanting an immediate check of “what is worn under the kilt?”

“Nothing is worn under the kilt, my dear. It’s all in fine working order.”

Dove, I knew, loved anal sex, and liked it to be rough and give her some erotic pain. In our previous meeting, I found that I had to be the cautious one to avoid her being injured, but, since she was submissive and regarded me as her dominant, getting her to follow directions wasn’t that difficult.

If we could make this work, I certainly could envision a primary relationship with Dove, which still was part of a polyamory. I knew that not only did she enjoy her own sexual contact with women, she also delighted in facilitating her dom’s sexual pleasure with shared partners, or women that she provided for him. My intuition told me that a bed with Dove and Jill in it would be a happy place.

Dove was short and very busty. She wasn’t thin, but she dressed well. In one of her favorite black minis, with five-inch heels in which she could run, she attracted many an eye. I’m personally not fixated on breasts, but, on her small body, hers would rival Tana’s and Gigi’s. Our redhead contingent could easily be regarded as weapons of mass destruction.

Dove, of course, would be staying with me. We arranged for the twins to stay with Gigi and George, and Marilyn and Mike.

At my apartment, we embraced, sprawling on the couch as we exchanged intense kisses. Dove broke away and asked “want a blowjob?” I knew that came from her submission, and I approved. She was still in the jeans in which she had traveled, and quickly took off her pants. “Sorry, for the trip, I did need to wear panties.” When she wore a dress for social occasions, she’d be bare underneath except for a sanitary micro-slip, and hose if she wore them. From her carry-on, she pulled out six-inch stilettoes and slipped into them. “I know you prefer me in them.” She took off her top and offered her breasts to me. “Kiss them or slap them -- you know I love either.”

Breasts are not my primary sexual fixation, but with such an offer, they became objects of extreme desire. Still, I had to reach down and fondle her delicious mound. Dove had told me that she was nearly compulsive of shaving and moisturizing her pubic area. I remembered, correctly, the wonderful warm, slightly moist, silkiness of her labia.

I had prepared for her desires, but in doing so, I tried to minimize the actual, not symbolic pain, that I’d give. Sexual sadism does not appeal to me, but I knew that her sexual masochism, although SSC, was a real need of hers. In my pocket was what appeared to be a flogger, but with strands of soft suede. They would make a noise and produce a thump, but I was comforted to know that they didn’t produce pain. That appealed to my sensitivities.

“Dove, it’s late enough that I don’t want to spend the time in preparing you for anal or fisting. I know you like the symbolic submission and pain, so let’s do this. I’m going to put some clamps on your nipples, and twist and pull them.” She gave a little moan of anticipation. “Once your nipples are hard, I want you to give me that blowjob, and make a titjob part of the process. And when I climax in you, I want to kiss and hug and sleep sweetly embracing, with far more in the morning.”

The clamps were more for show than pain. I surprised her by using the soft flogger, loudly but gently, on her chest, and drawn across her face. She took me into her experienced mouth, licking, and then swallowing me to the base of my penis. Occasionally, she looked up, with loving eyes. It did not take me long to explode into her mouth, screaming my pleasure. She slid up to my head, as I reclined, and we snowballed briefly, but then she swallowed the remainder. We wrapped arms around one another and drifted off.

In the morning, I awakened to Dove’s smiling face. “One moment.” Still nude, she slipped on her stilettoes. “Sir, I know you like me in these.” I appreciated the touch. We spent an unknown, pleasant amount of time kissing, being warm, not D/s.

We realized that I was now thoroughly erect. “Let me do something with that, dear.” Reaching into her bag at the side of the bed, she removed a bottle of lubricant. “I feel tangerine today. Yes, while I can stretch to accept you and the force is sometimes very exciting for me, I’ve learned that it hurts you.” She anointed me and applied it to her anus, and urged me to finger her there. I did so. I knew that anal was important to her, so I turned her into a reverse cowgirl, kneeling over me, giving me a superb view of her ass and kinky shoes. With few preliminaries, I slipped into her, the orifice being incredibly hot and tight. Dove wiggled back against me.

“Dove, I need to say something.” Her face looked concerned. “Oh no, nothing at all bad. You know me well enough to know that even fumbling, I’m sincere.” She smiled, rather in relief.