Denise liked Mindy a lot. She had been attracted to the short-haired, vaguely butch girl ever since they met at a party held by a mutual acquaintance, but at this point it was beyond physical lust. There was something about the girl's personality, the quiet energy she radiated, that Denise found herself addicted to. She couldn't put her finger on it, but after Mindy left she always found herself desperately wanting more. So they spent more and more time together, rationalizing it as just another fifteen minutes at the bar or just another hour over at Denise's house watching old movies. It was this stickiness that meant that even in the first moon of their courtship they had spent this whole weekend stuck to each other. Yes, everything seemed to be going well on the romantic front indeed.

But some things override affection, are such completely unforgivable secrets that all the cute smiles in the world can't overcome them. And Mindy had just dropped one of those deal-breakers on the small table of the crowded breakfast restaurant.

Denise stared agape. "You don't like music? What does that even mean?"

Mindy shrugged. "What it sounds like."

"No, but I mean -- you can not like rap music, or rock, or country, but music itself is just too big. Everyone likes some kind of music. Even old people listen to music. It's a part of our culture. You can't just dismiss it all."

Mindy glanced towards their waitress, balancing two trays of eggy dishes through the fried haze. But alas, she walked on past them without depositing any of the life-sustaining breakfast. "Look, I've heard this rant a lot of times. It just doesn't do anything for me. Maybe I'm tone-deaf or something."

"Well have you only listened to the radio? Because there's a lot of better stuff out there, let me tell you. When we get home I'm lending you my Fugazi comp." Denise was adamant about this, leaning forward and staring at her girlfriend with all the intensity of a human rights tribunal.

"I've listened to a bit of indie music and all that," said Mindy. "But I'm just pretty indifferent to the whole thing. I mean, I guess I'd always rather watch a movie instead." Denise could believe this -- Mindy's walls were covered with posters of films from Die Hard to Talk to Her to films that Denise had never even heard of. But it wasn't like Denise never watched movies, or said categorically that she didn't like them.

Still, she could tell Mindy was a bit uncomfortable about the inquisition. "I guess I'll have to find someone else to see St. Vincent with next month."

Mindy stared at the no-smoking sign on the table and muttered "So, um ... about what we were talking about last night..."

"This is you changing the subject?"

Mindy turned crimson. It was kind of the most adorable thing.

It had first come out in bed last night, when both of them had been staring up at the ceiling stunned. Neither had intended to go all the way, just to fool around a bit. But there was a kind of incredible chemistry between their bodies, which responded to each other giddily and quickly wrested control away from their reluctant minds. The next thing she knew, Mindy was burrowed into her pussy, and Denise had found herself shouting out orders along with the occasional epithet.

In their state of postcoital relaxation, Mindy had confessed that she had loved it when Denise bossed her around, and the two of them started talking about fantasies, which soon got pretty kinky, as if both of them were trying to top the other and make them say uncle, or perhaps "freak". But they weren't ashamed -- with their bodies pressed together in Denise's single bed, a strange frankness ruled.

But that didn't seem to be the case anymore, judging by the furious blush spreading across Mindy's face and down her neck. Denise smiled and took the petite girl's hand in hers. "It's okay. That was just pillow talk. It didn't have to mean anything."

"No, I mean ... I wanna try it," said Mindy. "All that stuff I've always felt bad about fantasizing about. Getting tied up, getting dominated, being whipped and choked ... I dunno." Denise glanced around for prurient eavesdroppers, but the din of conversation was far too loud to hear any one speaker in particular. "I mentioned it to my last girlfriend and she just said that I was internalizing my guilt or societal misogyny or something. Maybe she was right."

"Maybe," said Denise. "But I mean, you don't get to choose what turns you on. Why doesn't matter -- the only question I'm thinking of is how." She gave her new girlfriend an askew grin.

Mindy was now expecting in detail every chip on the diner table's surface. "Can you forget I said anything?"

"Aw, are you becoming repressed?"

"No. It's just -- I don't want to pressure you into anything you don't want to do, is all."

Denise thought about that for a moment. It was true -- she had never fantasized about whips and chains the way Mindy apparently had, rubbing herself furiously to poorly-written S&M erotica. Sure, she yelled out some vulgar and downright mean stuff during sex -- but that was just dirty talk. It was a normal part of copulation for her. But she wasn't entirely opposed to going a bit further. And she desperately wanted to please this nervous creature before her.

"I don't think you have to worry about that," said Denise. "In fact, why don't we go back to your place after this and I show you exactly how much I don't mind."

Mindy paled, glancing around to see if any of the other diners were listening to Denise's increasingly bald provocations, but once again everyone else was too absorbed in their own business. She tried to stutter out a response, but couldn't quite manage. Denise had a sudden desire to bend her over the table and start fingerfucking her right there. She was just so cute when she was nervous.

Then the food came, and it spared Mindy from having to come up with a response to that. But Denise was going to make sure that this wasn't over.

The two women actually lived within a half-dozen blocks of each other, a fact that had amazed them both but ultimately suggested a kind of fate that neither of them was quite comfortable believing in. Denise tended bar at a local gastropub while Mindy was finishing up her bachelor's in anthropology. The breakfast restaurant had been an unnecessary but delicious stopover between Denise's basement apartment, rented from a nice and undercharging older couple, and Mindy's slim duplex. Denise was kind of startled by the light as she walked into her partner's place: she wasn't used to homes that were above ground.

"So, uh, you want to watch a movie or something?" said Mindy, gesturing towards a full wall of DVD racks.

Denise grabbed Mindy by the collar. "I had something different in mind."

She moved in for a kiss, but was put off a bit by the expression on Mindy's face. It was nervousness cut with a bit of fear. She looked uncomfortable. The last thing Denise had ever wanted to do was make Mindy uncomfortable. She considered letting go, stopping this thing -- whatever this thing was -- before it got out of hand. After all, hadn't she be the one pushing it, trying to turn a fantasy into reality against Mindy's own reservations.

But then she noticed a bit of hope, maybe even desire, mixed in among the anxiety. Maybe Mindy wanted to be pushed out of her comfort zone, to be made to feel as though she was under attack. Maybe that panic was what got her off. Denise didn't understand it herself, but that didn't mean that she couldn't go along with it.

And so she tightened her hold on the petite girl's collar. "We sh -- I mean, we're going to the bedroom." Mindy nodded meekly.

With the other girl's shirt bunched up in her fist, Denise lead Mindy up the stairs to the queen-sized navy blue bed, whose sheets they had messed up a few times already. Denise lightly shoved Mindy towards the bed, and Mindy rushed onto it, rolling over into a prone position. God, it was so easy to dominate her. Mindy's eyes shone with a level of compliance that was downright spooky.

The only problem was that Denise wasn't quite sure what to do next. She tried to put herself in the shoes of a dominant, but all she could think of was one of those asshole guys from porn. "Take you clothes off," she said, hoping it was appropriately authoritative.

It worked. Mindy began fumbling with the buttons of her flannel shirt, and a strange rush went through Denise as she saw her order obeyed. With trembling hands Mindy eventually shucked the shirt, and then the slim black tank top beneath it, and then the sports bra under that. She unpeeled herself, revealing under each layer more and more of that soft creamy skin. And then, at last, her little conical tits bravely venturing forth into the world.

If it weren't for the shaking of her hands one could almost describe the way Mindy disrobed as businesslike, maybe even a little mechanical. She calmly hooked her thumbs into the jean skirt she had been wearing and tugged it down until it fell into a clump around her ankles. She did the same for her plain black panties. The last thing to be removed were her neon-coloured kneesocks, a prodigiously cute item that Denise had envied but knew quietly that she would never be able to make work. Mindy then climbed onto the bed silently and rolled over. She presented herself with her bent legs spread apart, like waves parting to reveal the holy land: her bushy, moist cunt.

Denise looked on hungrily. She wanted very badly to just fling her own clothes off and jump on top of her girlfriend. But for some reason she didn't think that was an appropriately dominant response. It was strange -- it felt as though she was playing a character, but the script was inside her, which suggested that maybe it wasn't so much of a character after all. It was a strange, half-disembodied sensation that made her totally wet.

Denise walked around the bed, trying her best to look clinically and a bit disinterestedly at the gorgeous display of girlflesh before her. Her rapidly-melting mind was buzzing, trying to figure out what to do before she lost complete control. The colourful kneesocks at her feet gave her a flash of inspiration.

"Sit up," she said, her voice almost breaking. Mindy swiftly complied, turning over on the bed. God, that was eerie. "Put your hands, uh, on the head board." More instant obedience. Denise couldn't help but watch Mindy's tits jiggle and thrust as she stretched her arms backwards.

Mindy's right hand was still too far from the nearest bedpost, so Denise had to grab her by the wrist and pull it close enough. She wrapped the first of the kneesocks around that wrist and the post, stretching out the nylon, and then tied it in a quick sailor's knot. Of course, the bed was way too bed for little Mindy to be spread all the way across it, but fortunately there was a little bar running above the headboard so Denise could tie the other hand to that.

She stepped back to take a look at her handiwork. To be honest, it looked a little ridiculous, her girlfriend bound by brightly coloured garments to her creaky old headboard. But hey, people liked getting tied up, right? But did Mindy like getting tied up? Denise wasn't sure, but she thought that if Mindy strongly objected she would say something instead of just looking up at her, twisting her head around, doe-eyed and expectant.

So now she had a cute girl tied to her bedpost and helpless. What now?

Well, that was a stupid question. Denise climbed up onto the bed behind Mindy and leaned in to kiss her girlfriend on the hollow of her throat. She felt and relished the full-body shiver that went through Mindy. Trying her best to be patient and methodical, she kissed her way down the other girl's stomach, leaving soft wet marks where she went. Mindy shifted under her, but there was nowhere she could go.

Denise paused when she got to her partner's lower regions. The rosebud of her puckered ass was extremely tempting. So was her fragrant pussy, but Denise knew that if she started there she would never stop. They had never talked about anal play, but hey, it couldn't hurt. And hey, she was in charge, right? So she pressed her lips to the base of her girl's crack and darted her tongue forward.

"Oh!" Mindy sounded shocked, but it was the good kind of shocked, like a present when it wasn't your birthday. Denise ran her tongue back and forth along the entrance to Mindy's ass, drawing moans and groans. Again the petite girl tried to shift, maybe to get more comfortable or maybe to reciprocate, but she was stuck, trapped in this position of total surrender.

Denise expected a thoroughly unpleasant taste and smell as she tongued Mindy's asshole, but like the rest of her it was clean and soft. This just furthered Denise's suspicions that the girl had fallen from the heavens -- even her ass smelt like roses. Still, she drew her lips back, and instead dipped her right hand into the copious moistness of Mindy's pussy. With her fingers nicely lubricated she slid first one, then the other, into the tight tunnel of her girlfriend's asshole. Mindy shivered with each penetration, and moaned lustily as Denise ran her fingertips along the soft contours of her inner walls. Denise grinned. She could get used to this.

With her other hang she began lightly stroking Mindy's pussy, and that really brought the smaller girl alive. Mindy usually affected a deep voice to fit her sparkplug-butch image, but when she really got going in bed she would let out these adorable high-pitched squeals that never failed to make Denise simultaneously happy and wet. When Denise brushed her fingers across her clit, it sounded a bit like a kettle boiling. Every time Mindy squealed or moaned, Denise could feel her ass squeeze around her fingers. The human body was a remarkable device.

Denise ventured one finger into Mindy's hot pussy, then another, and finally a third -- she knew her girlfriend liked being stretched out a bit, and had a big black dildo underneath the bed that Denise herself would never go near. Each thrust produced a blur of motion and sound, as Mindy thrust up towards the penetrating fingers and let out one of her high moans. Denise found herself falling into the motions, and soon they were in harmony, along with the headboard that rattled with each thrust.

It would be easy to continue like this until Mindy came, gushing over Denise's fingers and wailing to the ceiling. It would be even easier to dip her head down and succumb to the intoxicating scent of Mindy's cunt and just start lapping at the ripe fruit beneath her. But an idea struck Denise, and she couldn't resist it. It would be cruel, but wasn't that supposed to be her job?

She pulled all of her fingers out of Mindy, although the orifices tried to cling to them in protest. Mindy looked up in surprise. Denise tried her best to maintain a normal tone of voice, as if they were still talking over rubbery eggs. "Sorry, but I still can't get over the music thing."

"Can we talk about it later?" Mindy panted.

"No, I'm afraid you're going to have to get through a little music appreciation before you can get off," said Denise. God, she was nervous. Why was she so nervous? Was she worried that she would go beyond the bounds of this tentative play, or that her performance would be so amateurish that it would ruin the experience? Was Mindy comparing her to the fantasies she had harboured for so long? Were those bewildered eyes finding her wanting?

Still, she continued, even as her voice sounded far too weak to her. "I'm gonna cue up a couple songs. Good songs, that you won't hear on the radio. You're really sensitive now, so you should be, uh ... receptive. After the music ends, you let me know what you think, and maybe I'll get you off."

Mindy groaned, but didn't say anything. Denise rapidly organized a short playlist on her iPod, which had been sitting in her back pocket through all of this. She was hoping Mindy would have one of those docking stations with the speakers attached, but of course it was silly to expect her to own any kind of music-playing equipment. So her music appreciation lesson had to come through tinny, minute iPod speakers. It wasn't ideal, but it suited her purposes.

The short-haired girl squirmed and squirmed, trying to get herself off by rubbing against the bedsheets. Denise gave her a slap on the thigh. "Nuh uh. Listen to the music." And she obeyed. Denise realized that she had been given power over her girlfriend, and had of course used it in a capricious and dictatorial fashion. But hey, what was the point of power if you didn't use it?

Mindy was obviously trying to keep still, but quivered with arousal. Denise really doubted that she could pay attention to the ethereal indie-folk that was quietly playing. And then she looked up at the neon kneesocks binding Mindy to the headboard and it took everything in her power to stop from laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

"These songs should last about ten minutes. You can hold out that long, right Mindy?"

"Y-yes mistress." Mistress? Where had that come from?

"Good. I have to go do ... uh, something more important."

Denise left the room, her mind reeling. Things had gotten real very fast. And what was this part of her that was quickly emerging, a strange alternate her that delighted in tormenting and humiliating the perfectly innocent Mindy? Was this always a part of her? She felt vaguely guilty.

She sat down on the nearest couch, still listening to the music filtering through the wall. God, it was strange that she still had her clothes on, when Mindy was naked and groaning in there. She tried to think about anything else but the slim butch, sweaty and frustrated, gyrating on the bed just waiting for her, but it was a difficult proposition.

They were onto the second song now, and Denise had started stripping off her clothes. She figured she may as well do this before she completely soaked her panties through. As she peeled off her socks she realized how strange it was to be sitting in Mindy's living room naked and by herself. It was a little cold.

Eventually she could resist it no more. Denise crept back to Mindy's bedside. The poor girl was looking downright fevered. Her heightened state of arousal had not diminished one bit, with her soaking pussy making a big stain on the sheets and her rock-hard nipples cutting the cool air.

"Please..." Mindy said quietly.

"Please what?" said Denise.

"Touch me, lick me, fuck me ... I don't care, just do something."

It was a very tempting proposition. But there was still about two minutes of the playlist to go. Neither of them were listening to the music, of course, but it was the principle of the thing. Or at least Denise thought it was. Maybe Mindy was tired of this game and wanted to just go back to regular fucking. Denise didn't even know how she would express that without it sounding like she was playing along. The characters they inhabited were rapidly becoming hard to distinguish from their actual selves.

So she didn't want to give in and start lavishing love on Mindy before the music stopped. But she figured she could at least get ready. And when she saw Mindy squirming, her enflamed pussy just positively beckoning, she could only think that it was time for her girlfriend to get fucked.

There was, however, one problem. Mindy was usually the one who did the fucking in the relationship. Well, there hadn't really been time to establish a usual yet, but the two times the strap-on had come out it had gone around Mindy's waist. And why not? She was such such a natural with it, the black dildo jutting out of her thin waist like merely an extension of the rough black waves of her hair. And the way she drove her powerful hips, honed by weekly judo practice since she was seven ... well, it drove Denise into delirium.

But she couldn't afford to be delirious right now. Still trying to appear calm and collected, Denise pulled out Mindy's "hope chest" -- an old drawer filled with colourful sex toys and the odd bit of porno -- from under the bed. As the last song began its final course, she tried to figure out her selection.

The strap-on was out of the question -- even if she could figure out how to adjust it to her plumper waist, she had never been on the giving end of one before, and now wasn't the time to find out. But there was still a cornucopia of erotic options before her. In the end she decided to go with a stout red vibrator. Denise flicked the switch at its base, letting the purr of it eclipse the fading melody of the last song.

"Did you like that," she said, suddenly finding her throat deathly dry.

"Yes," said Mindy. Her frustration was evident in her heavy, breath-laden voice.

Denise climbed onto the bed behind her girlfriend. "Now remember Mindy, you have to be honest with me. Did you like the music?"

"Well, if I have to be honest..." God, she sounded so mousy and demure and so ... un-Mindy-like. " ... then I guess I have to say I wasn't really paying attention."

"And why not?"

"Well, it's just that..." Mindy flushed red, bringing a little jolt to Denise's heart. "I'm just so effing horny that I couldn't think about anything else."

Denise decided to think aloud here. "Well, now I don't know what to do here. I could punish you for being so naughty you can't even do what I instructed you to do. But you did stay quiet for the whole ten minutes. So maybe you deserve a reward."

In truth, there really wasn't much of a choice. Denise's pussy was yearning for some kind of sexual contact and wouldn't put up with this bullshit for much longer. So all it took was Mindy muttering, practically squealing. "Oh please, mistress..."

"Well, since you asked nicely..." Denise held the buzzing vibrator to Mindy's damp pussy lips and barely teased her at all before shoving the toy inside her. Mindy gasped and began moaning, faster and higher than Denise had ever heard before. Clutching the base of the device in her palm, Denise thrust her wrist forward, powerfully fucking her girlfriend with the vibrating toy.

The lithe girl was so keyed up that she didn't need much to drive her to the edge. Soon she was gasping and panting and one quick, shallow stroke sent her into convulsions. Denis could feel the bliss radiating out from her girlfriend's body, and let it sink into her pores in an act of delightful sympathy.

But sympathy only takes you so far, and her own cunt was begging for attention. Denise got up and untied Mindy's wrists as quickly as she could, although her hands seemed suddenly very clumsy. One of the nylons snapped, and she just shrugged it off. It was one obstacle out of the way, at least. The other makeshift rope came dutifully untied, and Denise over to her girlfriend, still in a groggy post-orgasmic state.

The urgent need for release was all that was on her mind. Denise straddled Mindy's face and was about to start humping it when she felt the slim butch's tongue start lapping at her folds. And just like that the pressure all melted away. She was simply there, enjoying rippling soft feelings of joy, and there was nothing in the world that could make her unhappy.

But eventually those soft feelings became inflamed. Denise found herself panting as harder and harsher waves of pleasure coursed through her body. Mindy's tongue was a blur on her clit, her pussy lips, inside her, everywhere. She was eating her out with a dying man's hunger. Denise realized that all of the preliminaries had brought her close to the edge to, and all there was to do was let out a torrent of obscenities as an inferno of an orgasm burnt its way through her.

Rubber-legged, Denise managed to roll off her girlfriend before she smothered her entirely. Her cunt gave one last half-hearted spasm. Denise sat stunned. Mindy had an amazed grin on her face.

"Was that what you had in mind?" said Denise.

"Not -- I mean, it wasn't exactly like that," Mindy said, looking up from the pillow. "But I mean, that's the point. You're in charge."

Denise couldn't help but laugh. "God, the music appreciation thing? What the fuck was I smoking?"

Mindy shrugged. "It was good. You were good. Come down and hold me."

Denise let herself slide into a prone position, and let Mindy wrap her limbs around her. Or maybe it was Denise doing the wrapping. In any case, they were soon a lovely tangle of human flesh burning against each other. It was a refreshingly familiar intimacy.

"You're amazing," said Mindy, kissing Denise on the forehead. Her tone was worshipful.

"Eh. I try."

The truth of the matter was that s much as Denise loved cuddling, she got bored very easily, and couldn't stand silence, even the intimate silence of hearing each others' breathing. "So, what next?"

"I dunno. We could fuck some more, or we could watch a movie or something, or we could go out."

In the end they did none of the above. They managed to get over to the couch before resuming their death grip on each other, and they spent most of Sunday afternoon flipping between cable news, cartoons, reruns of campy syndicated shows and the last forty-five minutes of The Horse Whisperer. They were nude and sweaty the whole time, but it was remarkably non-sexual, save for one instance of fingerbanging during an old episode of Xena.

Around five-thirty Mindy announced "Well, my brain has turned firmly to slush."

"Me too. And I'm hungry."

"I've got a frozen pizza that's just waiting to be devoured."

"Nah, I feel like something fresh. Let's go out."

"I can't afford to go out for every meal, you know."

"We'll go someplace cheap."

In a way, this delighted Denise. The stupid everyday conversations, the wasted hours and days that made up the bulk of life: these were things she hadn't been able to imagine doing with Mindy before. With her, time was always heightened. Every moment was a potential catastrophe or a potential delight. But this time, right now? It didn't matter, and that in some ways made it the best of all.

In the end they grudgingly put their clothes on and went down to a roti place on the corner. Denise was at first startled by the bright green sauce that oozed out of the wrap, but it proved too delicious to ultimately be disgusted by. Mindy, who chatted casually with the owner, devoured hers like a wolf before spitting out the bones triumphantly.

"You are disgusting," Denise said while dabbing the sauce off of Mindy's chin with a napkin.

Mindy shrugged. "I don't do anything gently."

"What do you want to do now?"

"Let's just walk. It's a nice evening."

It was, one of those warm May nights that promised the bounties of the summer ahead. Mindy threaded her fingers through Denise's as they stepped out onto the street. Denise looked around anxiously for any disapproving glares, but everyone seemed too absorbed in their own pursuits to notice anyone else's unorthodox affection. Besides which, this was a nice neighbourhood, whose poverty was of the hip student variety. It was miles away from the pinch-faced churchgoers she had grown up alongside.

They wove through streets on a path that they instinctively understood but couldn't explain. As they walked they pointed out their own personal geographies: hole-in-the-wall restaurants and bars that one had always avoided but the other swore by, houses where friends past and present lived, bus stops they sat blankly at every day, the stretch of pavement where Denise had once been hit by a car, the alley where a drunk Mindy had once made out with a massive girl whose name she didn't' remember. These two worlds were becoming overlaid with each other, becoming something more complete and less distinct.

Denise knew she had a tendency to become obsessive about girls and fantasize about weddings and children and growing old together before the first date. She had tried to stop it, knowing that such fantasies and fixations only made the actual relationship inevitably disappointing. But god help her, she couldn't help but hope that this one was going to last, that the next year they would be tracing these same steps on another warm May evening. Everything just seemed so easy and comfortable around Mindy.

Their journey ended at a sex shop. It was a nice sex shop, not one of those seedy porno stores decorated with fluorescent red hearts, but it was still embarrassing to come across. "And, uh ... this is here too," said Denise, ever the tour guide.

"Not gonna lie," said Mindy. "I've bought my fair share of dildos from here."

Denise mutely nodded assent.

"Why are you embarassed? You were pretty brazen this afternoon."

"That was different. I was, uh ... I was doing it for you."

"Aww, how sweet. Let's go in and find some more things you can do for me."

The heavily-pierced girl behind the counter barely looked up from her book as they entered. The store was fairly dead -- the only other ones in there were a young straight couple looking at bondage gear and a faintly creepy guy leafing through paperback erotica. Denise still found herself sweating with anxiety. She had bought things from stores like this, but always online. Here the panopoly of sex -- artificial genitalia of every size, shape, substance and colour; book and DVD covers depicting every act under the sun; a wall of leather and lace and strange shiny substances; and all of it staring at her, its existence so matter-of-fact.