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Another lonely night, Ruth Redmond thought bitterly as she downed the last of her Nikka Coffey Grain Whiskey – imported from Japan – from her Swarovski crystal tumbler glass. The shipping alone had been half the price of the bottle itself, but if Ruth wanted to drown her sorrows in alcohol, she would do it in style, at the very least.
She rarely allowed such abysmal behavior as this. A single glass of fine red wine with dinner and nothing more. After all, alcoholism was ever so gauche. Such was a vice of plebians, and Ruth Redmond was far too classy and sophisticated for such things. Still, drinking suited her far more than the only other option on this of all nights. No, Ruth had no desire to sob her eyes out anymore. She’d spent the better part of the past year – the past long, lonely, horrible year – drowning in tears and her skin might never recover from such nonsense.
Across the room, the classical opera emanating from the state-of-the-art stereo faded away, leaving silence behind. Not a sound permeated the air in the whole of Ruth’s mansion. Her lonely, cold, empty mansion. Her silly daughter continued to insist she sell it and downsize. Some nonsense about feeling less lonely in a – and Ruth shuddered to think of the wording Amy had used – cozier abode. But the very idea was laughable. This was the house Ruth had grown up in. The house she’d kept her family in. The house she would die in if she had any say about it. No, Ruth would not be selling it and moving into some god-awful condo like a trashy widow.
Of course, Amy wasn’t the only person who thought Ruth would be better off in a home that didn’t have seven gorgeous bedrooms and an indoor pool. But Ruth would sooner be damned than take advice from a simpering goody-two-shoes who lived in a one-story hovel, or a human disaster who oscillated between squatting at her equally disastrous daughter’s house or some sleazy motel with whatever trash she seduced that night.
Besides, this house, this very room, was the place Ruth’s husband had departed this world from. Just there, only feet away. Ruth stared at the spot on the pristine white carpet. She could still see him there as though it happened only moments ago. A heart attack. Preposterous. Hank had been healthy as a horse. And yet, he’d died right there. On the floor. Alone. For that, Ruth would surely never forgive herself.
She’d never forgive herself for going out to the theatre without him. And she’d never forget returning home to his prone body, lifeless and cold.
One year ago, to the day, Ruth Redmond’s life collapsed around her. And she’d yet to put it back together again.
She’d spoken to her daughter on the phone earlier that day. Amy, for all her faults, had known to call. She’d even offered to drive out to be with Ruth, just so she wouldn’t be alone, but Ruth had declined, insisting she would be just fine. She didn’t need anyone.
In truth, Ruth Redmond hated being alone. She hated the loneliness that threatened to suffocate her. She hated tossing and turning in her big empty bed with no one to warm and sooth her restlessness. But she hated the idea of her daughter seeing her mother so disheveled even more. So here she was, alone.
She’d not put on her face, or even dressed that morning. What would have been the point? Her unkempt hair hung limply around her face without any sort of style. Tomorrow, she vowed, tomorrow she would straighten herself out once more. But just for tonight, she deserved a reprieve. She deserved to wallow in her own misery and look a sight doing it. After all, who else would see her but her? And she already hated herself anyway so why did it matter?
She contemplated listening to Vivaldi or perhaps Puccini next, but her legs felt like lead, and she could not muster the will nor the energy to rise. Not even the temptation of a fresh bottle could tempt her away from her reclining chair. Perhaps she would just never rise again. Perhaps she would, only to fall dead away in the same spot as her husband. What did it matter?
Just as she felt herself beginning to spiral into something as distasteful as a depressive episode, she heard footsteps in the hall. At once, Ruth sat bolt upright, her dull eyes widening. Her heart began to race, and she eyed the fire poker nearby.
Nobody was meant to be in this house but her. And oh, tonight was not the night for any disgusting criminal to try her.
But, to Ruth’s great shock, rather than some masked burglar, Isis Dunkler stood in the doorway, cowboy boots and all. And she looked thoroughly unimpressed.
“Looks like I got here right on time,” Isis drawled, sauntering in the room with what could only be described as a frankly stupid looking swagger. The heels of her boots left dents in the carpet, much to Ruth’s horror. God only knew what was on them. She’d have to call the rug people in the morning.
“How in hell did you get in?” Ruth demanded, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. “I swear, if the alarm isn’t working, I will sue the security company for-”
“As hot as you are when you get all bitchy, there’s no need for that,” Isis said, gracelessly sprawling all over Ruth’s lap, leaving the other woman speechless. She propped one foot up on the armrest, and Ruth had to physically restrain herself from grabbing the fire poker after all. But if Isis scuffed the leather, Ruth swore she’d pay dearly. “Don’t look so put out. I didn’t break in or anything.”
“Care to enlighten me on what you did do?” Ruth demanded, giving Isis a half-hearted shove that did little to move her.
“Bribed your kid into giving up the code,” Isis said as she wriggled in Ruth’s lap to get more comfortable.
All her tossing and turning succeeded in displacing the right shoulder of her already loose shirt to reveal half of her fluorescent orange cheap lacy bra that was clearly too small given how her décollage spilled out. Not, that Ruth spent much time looking, thank you very much.
“Isis,” Ruth snapped, glaring down at the other woman. “Just what in hell are you doing here? Don’t tell me your latest whoever kicked you out.”
“Nah, just thought you’d be better off with some company tonight,” Isis said, shockingly candid about her reasoning. “And clearly I was right. You’re sitting here feeling sorry for yourself, drinking too much, and refusing to be with your kid. So instead you get me. Congratulations, bitch.”
“I drink too much? I? Have you looked in a mirror lately?” Ruth felt a stirring of outrage in the pit of her belly and relished in it. Anything was better than the numbness that had begun to settle in her bones. “Woman, you are the one who’s blood was replaced with cheap tequila decades ago. Get off. Honestly, you’re behaving appallingly.”
“Ah, ah, ah, it’s different,” Isis said with an infuriatingly smug smirk. And she still refused to get up, effectively trapping the taller woman beneath her. “I drink because I figure if liver failure hasn’t gotten to me now, might as well. You drink because you’re grieving. And I’m all for drowning some stupid feelings in some damn good liquor that’s probably stupid expensive, but this isn’t you, Ruthie. And as your best friend, it’s my job to make you feel better, or whatever the fuck I’m supposed to do.”
“I seem to not recall ever confirming we were best friends,” Ruth said with a roll of her eyes. Trust Isis to be so presumptuous, even if it had been almost two years. “You’re some heathen who wears shoes inside. Get-” she gave Isis one last almighty shove and sent her sprawling across the floor- “off! And take those damn shoes off too. If you get so much as a speck of dirt on my carpets…”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Isis grumbled, nonplussed about being unceremoniously dumped onto the ground. Off came her boots, and she flung them aside without a second glance. Ruth winced and made a mental note to change the alarm code and locks tomorrow.
Suddenly hyperconscious of her shameful appearance, Ruth turned her head away and drew her robe tighter around herself. Out of everyone to see her like this, Isis would have been her absolute last choice. The woman never did mince words. Usually, Ruth appreciated such candor, but she didn’t think she’d be able to handle it tonight.
A terrible thought struck her.
“You are alone, aren’t you? Little Miss Sunshine isn’t with you?”
“Babe, this is supposed to make your night better, not worse,” Isis said, pushing herself up. “And if I brought Sandy along, she wouldn’t survive the night. She’s back home worrying herself to death over you though.”
“Which is where you should be. Your home, I mean, not Sandy’s. God forbid. I made it perfectly clear to Amy that I wanted to be alone tonight.”
“You might want to be alone, but too bad. You need to be with someone. And looks like I’m your only option, babe.”
“Well, if we’re not drinking, what are we doing then? I was under the impression you did nothing but drink and drug.”
“And fuck,” Isis said brightly with a suggestive wink. “Don’t forget fuck. But none of that tonight, unfortunately. Someone’s gotta be the responsible one, and you’re one foot in the dumpster anyway so fuck it. C’mon. You stink to high heaven, woman. Let’s get you a bath.”
Isis’s attempts to pull Ruth to her feet were about as successful as her disaster daughter’s attempts to deal with empty nesting. That was, thoroughly unsuccessful.
“Fuck’s sake, work with me here,” Isis huffed, glaring down at Ruth. “Don’t make me haul you by those antelope legs of yours. And don’t think I can’t sling you over my shoulders like a pretty sack of potatoes, missy.”
The sheer comedy of such an idea sorely tempted Ruth into resisting a little more, but she regretfully had to concede she did, in fact, smell. And that was unacceptable.
Without thinking, she led Isis up to her master bathroom. No one, well no one who mattered anyway, came up here. And everything about Isis Dunkler screamed of being out of place. Like some cheap fingerpainting at the Louvre.
Ruth watched Isis draw her a bath with a grimace plastered on her face. Every time the careless woman dumped too much of her expensive bath products in the water, Ruth imagined shoving them down her pretty little throat. God knew it wouldn’t be the worst thing that woman had swallowed before.
“Alright, get in,” Isis said, shutting off the tap with a flourish and mock bow. Ruth blinked at her. Isis rolled her eyes and stepped towards the taller woman. “Ugh, I guess if you want me to take off your clothes for you too, I can do it, but I usually want dinner first.”
“I’ve bought you dinner before,” Ruth snapped, before realizing what Isis was implying. She flushed, and glared at her. “And no, that won’t be necessary. If you would kindly leave. The house, I mean. I, hm, I suppose I should thank you for the bath, but I can take it from here. Go home, Isis.”
“Fat fucking chance of that, bitch,” Isis said, carelessly letting the toilet lid close with a loud clatter than had Ruth cringing. She sat down, legs akimbo, and somehow made the damn toilet look like some trashy throne. “Go on. Get naked and get in. I’m sticking around to make sure you don’t drown yourself.”
“I’m not having you leering at me like some pervert,” Ruth snapped, a flash of insecurity hitting her in the chest. The idea of anyone, even someone like Isis – especially someone like Isis – seeing her like that made her blood curdle. “Turn around. And I swear, if you even so much as peek, I’ll have you thrown in the paddy wagon and hauled off to jail.”
“Been there, done that,” Isis said, waving her threat away. But she leaned back and closed her eyes anyway. The very picture of careless apathy.
Ruth waited a beat, suspicion ever present, but at last relented. She stripped off with brutal efficiency and hurried into the safety of the bubbly water. And though she hated to admit it, the hot water soothed her tense muscles, and she sank back with a sigh.
“Are your tits underwater yet, or do I need to stay like this?” Isis asked, still leaning back with her arms crossed over her ample chest. Not that Ruth was looking, mind you.
“Must you always be so crass?” Ruth demanded, sinking further into the water. Just in case.
“Damn right, lady,” Isis said. She stood and without so much as blinking, she undid that ridiculous belt buckle of hers and started to shuck off her pants.
“Just what in hell do you think you’re doing?” Ruth demanded; eyes so wide they might have fallen out of her head.
“What’s it look like? I’m taking these off so they don’t get wet. Your hair looks like Carla’s after she’s fallen asleep in the yard out front. Again. So I’m gonna wash it.” Ignoring Ruth’s shrieking protests, Isis flung aside her shirt too, leaving her in a mismatched set of underwear.
Underwear that were, in Ruth’s critical opinion, entirely too youthful for a woman of Isis’s considerable age. Cheeks red – from the heat of the water, obviously – Ruth snapped her gaze straight ahead.
“You’re not getting in this tub,” Ruth said with a glower, ignoring the way her heart sped up at the mere suggestion. “So you can just put your clothes back on and sit down. I’m perfectly capable of washing my own hair, thank you kindly.”
“Yeah, but you don’t have to,” Isis said with a shrug. She climbed onto the side of the tub at Ruth’s head and grabbed for the shampoo bottle. “Ugh, rich people and your damn products. I’ve got a head of curly box dyed hair and even I don’t need all this shit.”
“Use that one first,” Ruth said, giving in to this absurd charade. Fighting with Isis, the only woman more stubborn than her, was just too exhausting a prospect for a day like today. “Just a dime-sized drop. God, that bottle probably costs more than your little job pays you in a week.”
Ruth could practically hear Isis’s eye-roll, but the redhead did as she said. Despite herself, Ruth found herself relaxing into Isis’s shockingly gentle touch. God, Ruth couldn’t even remember the last time someone she wasn’t paying had washed her hair like this. With this tenderness and care? Probably never.
For a few blissful minutes, Ruth felt all her worries melt away as she hovered between sleep and consciousness. Behind her, Isis was humming some no-doubt obscene little ditty, but somehow it only brought Ruth more comfort.
Her eyelids fluttered shut, and though Ruth tried to stay awake, she soon dozed off to the soothing feeling of Isis’s sure fingers massaging her aching scalp.
“Alright, honey,” Isis murmured at last, waking Ruth from her trance. “Let’s get you out before you fall asleep for real and I’ve gotta haul your naked body out. Trust me, none of us want that.”
“I like you better when you keep your mouth shut,” Ruth grumbled. She opened her eyes and with a start realized most of the bubbles had dissipated, leaving her dangerously close to being exposed. She wrapped her arms around her chest and glared up at Isis.
“Babe, you don’t know the half of what I can do with my mouth open,” Isis said, making a particularly lewd gesture for emphasis. “In case you didn’t know, this means-”
“I know what it means,” Ruth interrupted, putting up a hand. “I’m not some blushing virgin, honestly. Now either turn around while I get out, or leave.”
Still wearing only her bra and panties, Isis shrugged and loped out the door into the bedroom. Which caused more than a little worry, Ruth had to admit. Maybe Isis should have stayed with her. If only to keep that damnable woman from stealing her mother’s jewels. Or riffling through Ruth’s underwear drawer. One never knew with Isis.
Choosing to ignore whatever hell Isis was no doubt causing, Ruth dragged herself through her nightly moisturizer routine. A woman of her…distinguished age did not go through life looking this good without proper skincare. How Isis, with her drugstore cream she’d no doubt shoplifted, managed, Ruth never knew.
Fifteen minutes later, feeling more alive than she’d felt in the past year, Ruth deemed herself presentable enough to emerge. With a long-suffering sigh, she even snatched Isis’s discarded clothes off the ground. Lord knew that women would never clean up anything herself.
“Isis, you better not have robbed me blind,” Ruth announced, breezing through the door. She came to a halt, finding the woman in question sprawled out on her bed, taking indecent selfies. “Just what in hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Well, I figure this was the least dirty thing I could get up to in this big bed of yours while you did whatever it was you did in there.” Isis waggled her eyebrows suggestively, and Ruth huffed, thrusting her clothes at her.
“I suppose I should-” Ruth grimaced –“thank you for what you did. I’m, ugh, fine. I’m glad you broke into my house tonight.”
“There now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Isis grinned, and Ruth shifted uncomfortably. She suddenly reminded her of another redheaded woman she’d known once upon a time. She’d worn cheap slutty underwear, and smoked god only knew what too. But no, that had been fifty years ago. And she’d never laid in Ruth’s bed like that. (No matter how much Ruth might have wanted her to.)
It was then she noticed Isis had laid out a nightgown and clean underwear for her. Clean practical underwear. Nothing that Ruth might have felt embarrassed or ashamed about. A strange warmth spread throughout her chest, and Ruth wordlessly took the clothes and changed in the bathroom.
When she emerged once more, Isis hadn’t moved, though she’d stopped taking pictures. She looked strangely like she belonged on top of Ruth’s Egyptian cotton sheets. And Ruth didn’t have the energy to unpack that.
“Get in, babe,” Isis said, throwing back the covers with a wink. “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat.”
“I have several guest rooms,” Ruth said, but she settled in anyway. Maybe, just maybe, having someone else in her bed would ease the lonely nights.
When no snarky reply came, Ruth looked over and saw Isis had already nodded off. A wave of unexpected tenderness washed over Ruth, and she brushed a lock of red hair out of Isis’s face. This strange, trashy, raunchy woman had shown a side of herself tonight that Ruth didn’t think anybody but maybe that poor damaged daughter of hers had ever seen before. Ruth rather liked it.
Something changed between the two women after that. Instead of bouncing between her kid’s empty nest and some trucker’s back bed, Isis started hanging out at Ruth’s. She even started respecting Ruth’s carpets, and wasn’t that a relief? And Ruth liked having her around, though she’d sooner spend twenty-four hours locked in an elevator with Sandy after her daughter rejected her again than admit it.
Isis seemed to know anyway, because she grew unbelievably smug about it, much to Ruth’s chagrin. Still, it was nice to come home from some uppity brunch with other high society ladies and find Isis Dunkler on top of her state-of-the-art kitchen counter in her cheap pleather jacket and a bottle of expensive scotch in her hand.
And with Isis, Ruth could let loose. Forget all her elegant breeding and just start screaming. Which is exactly what she needed to do after a particularly draining encounter with her fucking mother. The old bitch was still alive and kicking. Oh, Ruth couldn’t wait until the hag dropped dead for good. How she survived this long when sweet Hank hadn’t…
Ruth pushed that thought aside as she slammed the front door hard enough to rattle the china in the cabinet. “Isis. I swear, if there’s not a fucking drink in my hand in the next minute, I’m going to set fire to something.”
“Way ahead of you, babe,” Isis said, sauntering over with the whole damn bottle. Well, the almost-empty bottle, but it was the thought that counted. Ruth downed the last mouthful without hesitation.
“I’m going to kill her,” she said, shoving the empty bottle back into Isis’s hands. “I’m going to pump her full of drugs and off her, I fucking swear it.”
“Sounds like fun,” Isis said, never one to talk anyone out of some illegal shenanigans. “Hope you’re not gonna do it without me though? I’m a great getaway driver.”
“Drive me right off a fucking cliff, is more like it,” Ruth scoffed, but nudged Isis playfully. Truth was, she couldn’t imagine offing her mother without having Isis by her side. And maybe even Sandy panicking in the back seat. “God, I need another fucking drink.”
“I got a better idea,” Isis said with a suggestive wink.
“If it’s drugs, I swear,” Ruth warned, flushing slightly. “After last time, I said never again, remember?”
“How could I forget?” Isis scoffed, hauling herself over the back of the sofa and flopping onto the cushions. “I had to be the fucking responsible one for once and haul you and Sandy into a taxi and get you both to bed. She wouldn’t stop fucking freaking out and blubbering about the fucking apocalypse, and you were determined to get arrested for assault and battery. Not that I fucking blame you. But when it’s against a fucking dumpster, I’d think twice.”
“Fine, if it’s not drugs or drinking, what other no-doubt tasteless thing do you have cooking up?”
Ruth shoved Isis’s legs off the sofa and sat primly down, smoothing her perfectly pressed skirt. Someone had to act the lady around her.
“I think we should fuck,” Isis said, without preamble. Ruth immediately started choking. The mere suggestion appalled her, of course. The very idea that Isis would- that Ruth would even want-
Isis rapped her on the back, unconcerned. “C’mon, don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. You need to get fucked, girl. Bet no one’s ever done it properly. It’ll be fun.”
“It will most certainly not- I mean- we couldn’t possibly. I’m in no mood for your jokes, Isis. And for your information, missy, Hank and I were perfectly happy with our sex life, thank you very much.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Isis said with a shrug. “Catholic missionary, I bet. Where the kinkiest thing you do is take your god’s name in vain during a disappointing orgasm. If you even have one. Because you know your problem, girlie? What you really need is for someone to take control. See, you can’t fucking stand having to be all perfect and shit all the damn time. You really just want to hand over the reins, don’t you? Let someone take you over their lap and give you a damn good spanking.”
Ruth’s breaths came in short, quick bursts. She knew she must have been red as a cherry, and she couldn’t bring herself to look Isis in the eye. “That is not- I certainly do not want-” But oh, she did.
“You get high and wake up in alleyways,” Ruth said, at last collecting herself enough to form a coherent sentence. “You break the law every other minute. You- well, the point is, why should I trust you, of all people if what you say is true? Which it’s not, for the record.”
“Hey, I might be an irresponsible fuckup, but I don’t fuck around when it comes to fucking around, you feel me?” Isis nudged Ruth with a crooked smile. “So, c’mon. Stop being a big bad bitch and let me fuck you, hot stuff.”
“Don’t be- neither of us even like women in that way, so why would you even suggest such a thing?”
“Babe,” Isis said, leveling Ruth with a knowing look. “I might be drunk and high all the fucking time, but I’m not blind. I see how you look at me. Can’t blame you. I’m a fucking delight. And Ruthie, sweetie. I know you’re all uptight and shit, but you gotta know I like getting frisky with the ladies. Runs in the family. This one time, you’re gonna love this, Carla and I went down to Big Chicks, the lezzie bar, and had a challenge to see which of us could get more lady kisses. Mm, we made out with so many women that night.”
“You…you challenged your daughter into a lesbian kiss contest?” Ruth said, attempting to sound outraged. She didn’t even try to address Isis’s other accusation. “God, you two are fucked up. Did you win at least?”
“I got to make out with a bunch of hot young women, of course I won.” Isis inched ever closer, her cheap perfume and cigarette scent clotting Ruth’s senses. “Now, how ‘bout it? You, me, some restraints, maybe a paddle if you’re good.”
“Oh, fine,” Ruth said, before she could stop herself. The very idea of Isis, inexplicably in a leather bustier and carrying a whip, set a stirring in her loins that Ruth hadn’t felt in, well, decades. She suddenly needed a very stiff drink.
“Awesome, let’s go babe,” Isis said, jumping up. She slapped Ruth’s thigh and yanked her to her feet. “We’re burning daylight here.”
“What, now?” Ruth looked wildly around. The bright sun’s rays spread out across the floor, making it painfully obvious it was still very much midday. And a good Christian woman such as Ruth did not cavort about in the daylight. (A good Christian woman wouldn’t be agreeing to kinky sex with a woman like Isis either, but that was neither here nor there.)
With a heat-filled wink, Isis pulled Ruth up the stairs and into the master bedroom. She even drew the curtains, though she kept the lights on.
“Sit,” Isis ordered, pointing to the foot of the bed. Indignant, Ruth scowled at her and didn’t move. “Oh, you’re gonna be a bratty bitch bottom, aren’t you? Ugh, fine. Don’t sit then. But we gotta go over some ground rules, sweetheart. You ever heard of a safe word?”
Still flushed, Ruth mulled it over, unconsciously tracing her own collarbones. “Esther. Like the Book of Esther from-”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Isis interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “So. What’s gonna happen is I’m gonna have my wicked way with you because you, girlie, need someone to take control. I do something you don’t like, you tell me, but I’m in charge now, bitch.”
“If you think just going to roll over and submit like that, you have another think coming, darling,” Ruth said, easily towering over the shorter woman in her heels. “I’ve eaten better people than you for breakfast.”
“Maybe you have,” Isis said mildly, hardly intimidated by Ruth’s act. “But I also think you want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?”
Ruth’s breath hitched. She did. Oh, she did want to be good. That’s all she’d ever wanted. To be the best. To be perfect. She nodded, and slowly sank onto the foot of the bed, just barely trembling with anticipation.
A slow smile spread across Isis’s face. “Good girl.” And Ruth barely suppressed a whimper. No, it wouldn’t do to make such a pathetic sound this early in the day. “Alright, now. Take off your clothes.”
Isis draped herself across the bed, raising her eyebrow in expectation. Ruth looked at her over her shoulder, steeling herself. She let out a slow exhale, and stood with her back to Isis. Off came her Louis Vuitton heels, taking away several inches of height. Next, button by button, she pealed off her red silk blouse, revealing her pale slender shoulders. Underneath, she wore a white slip with lace trim, as all proper ladies did.
“Good god, we’re going to be here all damn day,” Isis muttered, causing Ruth to scowl. Trust Isis Dunkler to not appreciate such finery. With a glare over her bare shoulder, Ruth, unzipped her pencil skirt with brutal efficiency and let both it and her slip pool at her feet. Embarrassed, she looked critically at her underthings.
“Well, it’s not exactly La Perla,” Ruth said, turning to face Isis. But rather than any amusement or cruelty, Ruth only saw desire in the redhead’s eyes. It made her shiver in delight to think she could elicit such a reaction from a woman who, no doubt, had seen everything.
“Oh, hon, I love a woman in Spanx. Now, off with them. I want you naked and on this bed, girlie.”
“I hope you’re appreciating the honor that’s being bestowed upon you,” Ruth said, trying to muster up her bravado. She delicately rolled her silk stockings down her long legs, and only then did she reach to unclasp her bra. “And I’m not- well, I’m no twenty-something anymore.”
“If I wanted some child, I’d go out to a club,” Isis said with a half-shrug, eyes never wavering from Ruth’s newly bared breasts. “What, you think I never seen saggy tits before, honey? Have you seen these things?” Isis pointed at her own ample bosom.
Ruth looked down with a pronounced frown. True, her modest breasts weren’t perky anymore, and indeed hadn’t been in forty some odd years, but she’d hardly consider them saggy. The benefits of not being blessed with a well-endowed figure.
“Ugh, get that look off your face,” Isis said with a grunt. She snapped her fingers and pointed to a spot on the bed just in front of her.
Being summoned so cavalierly, made Ruth’s hackles rise, but she scurried onto the bed all the same. She wanted to be good.
“They’re perfectly fine tits, Ruthie. A good handful.” To demonstrate her point, Isis took Ruth’s breasts in her hands and squeezed, eliciting a gasp out of the taller woman. Beneath Isis’s warm palms, Ruth’s nipples hardened, and she arched into her touch.
A breathy gasp escaped before Ruth could stop it, and she squeezed her thighs together in anticipation. She wanted more. She wanted everything. And Christ if that didn’t terrify her.
“Isis,” Ruth said, her voice thick and gravelly. She dug her nails into her own leg lest she do something as plebian as swoon. “If you’re just going to squeeze my tits all day, maybe I should just-”
“Patience, my sweet girl,” Isis purred, tracing a finger across Ruth’s bony sternum. She traced each and every rib, and then fingered the waistband of her last remaining item of clothing. “Mmm, I’m gonna love devouring this lanky body of yours. God, your legs just go on for miles, don’t they?” To punctuate her words, those wandering fingers of hers trailed the length of said legs.
“Are you going to be all talk, or are you going to make good on your promises?” Ruth drawled. She resisted the urge to squirm where she sat. Already she could feel an uncomfortable slickness between her thighs, and that alone was enough to set her on edge. Ruth Redmond had always been…ah, lacking when it came to natural lubrication.
“Oh, baby, I’m gonna rock your world,” Isis growled, and before Ruth could answer, she flipped the taller woman onto her back and pinned her arms above her head. Ruth gasped, breathless with excitement at being handled so roughly. Okay, perhaps Isis had a point. Perhaps she did need this.
Above her, straddling her slender hips, Isis smirked in satisfaction. “Keep your hands above your head like a good girl.” Ruth nodded, wordlessly. Her heart pounded, and her throat felt unseasonably dry. “Good. Now lift up for me.”
Isis clambered off Ruth’s hips, much to the taller woman’s disappointment, and tapped at her Spanx. Though Ruth obeyed, she squirmed and blushed as Isis laid her bare at last. With her ankles demurely crossed, and thighs pressed tightly together, she awaited Isis’s judgment.
“Will you look at you. Such a pretty thing.” Isis purred, and Ruth practically glowed under her praise. “Come now, spread those long legs of yours nice and wide.”
“Isis- I don’t- I’m not sure this was a good idea.” Ruth chewed at her lip before realizing she’d succumbed to that terrible childhood habit and immediately stopped, tensing. Her mother had slapped her for less before.
“Hush, dear,” Isis said, sliding off the bed. Ruth immediately mourned her loss. “Silly me, getting you naked without evening the score. I know how much you hate this jacket, after all.” And without further ado, Isis divested herself of every scrap of clothing, leaving her utterly bare.
Ruth gaped, allowing her eyes to wander for the first time. Isis, a few years older than Ruth herself, certainly did not look her age at all. She had a curvy, hourglass sort of body. Certainly much more buxom than Ruth herself, with full heavy breasts that hung low on her chest. The hair between her legs had likely long since gone grey, betraying nothing of the woman’s natural hair color. Something she and Ruth had in common.
“Better?” Isis asked, giving Ruth a little twirl. God, Ruth wished she had Isis’s unflappable confidence.
“Much,” Ruth rasped. She opened her legs ever so slightly, tingling in anticipation. As a tribute to her building arousal, she didn’t spare the expensive duvet a second thought. “Come here.” Without thinking, Ruth reached out an arm to Isis, only for the redhead to give her hand a light rap.
“Now, now,” Isis said, forcefully pinning Ruth’s arms back over her head. “Looks like I’m going to have to tie you up, sweet cheeks.”
“I- there are some scarves in the closet,” Ruth said, breathless at the very idea.
But Isis shook her head at the suggestion. “Nah, silk’s shit for this kind of thing. It’s too slippery and I don’t wanna fuck up your wrists for good. Hang on, I got some stuff in my bag we can use. Don’t move, Ruthie.” And without waiting for Ruth to protest, Isis sailed out of the bedroom, leaving the door wide open.
Ruth shifted, hyperaware of her undressed state. Though she knew no one but the two of them were inside the house, it still sent a thrill down her spine, and she unconsciously spread her long legs wider. She imagined Isis, naked as a jaybird, traipsing through the house without a single shred of self-confidence.
Oh god, what if the neighbors caught a glimpse of her through the window? What if she decided to stir up trouble and flash the passersby? What if-
Isis sailed back into the bedroom and shut the door with a click. In one hand, she carried several coils of rope, and in the other a pair of ordinary scissors.
“Do I want to know why you just happened to have rope in your purse?” Ruth asked dryly, raising a sculpted eyebrow expectantly. “Exactly how long have you been planning to seduce me, darling?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, babe,” Isis said with a playful wink. “A gal never knows when she’s gonna get the chance to tie a pretty lady like yourself up. Gotta be prepared with some jute rope. Now, how ‘bout it?” She raised the coil tantalizingly.
“Oh, do go on then, but if you leave bruises, I’ll have your head,” Ruth said, settling into the mattress.
“You’ll have my head alright,” Isis said with a lecherous wink, as she began to wind the rope around Ruth’s wrists and the headboard. She made many passes with the rope, and Ruth marveled at the skill and care Isis took, and the surprising suppleness of the rope. “How’s that?”
Ruth gave the rope an experimental tug, noting how it didn’t tighten or pinch. She nodded. Then, Isis snaked her way down the bed and seized Ruth by the ankle. Ruth gasped, and jerked away. They exchanged no words, but Isis raised her eyebrow and waited. Swallowing back the last of her unease, Ruth settled back and let the other woman continue until her legs were as secured as her wrists.
She lay, spread eagle and very aware of just how helpless she truly was then. At Isis Dunkler’s mercy. She could do anything to Ruth at all. Isis could have her wicked way with her. She could pick up that phone of hers and extort Ruth for everything she was worth. She could just leave her there, naked and vulnerable. She could-
“Christ, I can see the panic in your eyes,” Isis said with a roll of her eyes. She settled between Ruth’s spread legs and dragged her fingertips over her pale inner thighs. “Just say the word, and I’ll cut you loose, babe. And if you feel any tingling, you gotta let me know. That’s it. Just relax and be a good girl for me. I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you. And looks like you’re dripping for it.”
Isis ran her finger through Ruth’s wet folds, drawing a whimper from the taller woman. “Oh, Ruthie. How long’s it been?”
“Too long,” Ruth groaned, rocking her hips up. She desperately needed Isis to stop yammering on and fuck her already. “Isis…please.”
“Ooh, begging already. That’s a good girl. I like when they beg.” Isis stuck her own fingers into her mouth and sucked at them. Ruth had never seen a more pornographic sight so up close and personal before. She licked her lips, and watched through heavily lidded eyes as Isis needlessly deep-throated her own damn fingers. That should not have been nearly as arousing as it was, but then again, none of this should have been.
“For fuck’s sake, just fuck me already,” Ruth demanded. Or rather, it might have sounded more like a demand if her voice didn’t crack with obvious desperation.
“You’ll shut up if you know what’s good for you,” Isis said after releasing her fingers with a wet pop. She leveled Ruth with a stern glare, instantly silencing the other woman. “Sweetie pie, you’re not in charge here. I’m the big bitch in town now. And if I wanna keep you on the edge all fucking night, I can damn well do it and you can’t do anything about it. We clear, bitch?”
Ruth nodded, her body alight after such a dressing down. Narrowing her eyes, Isis took one freshly moistened finger and unceremoniously shoved it into Ruth’s pussy. The taller woman let out a strangled yell, bucking her hips at the sudden intrusion.
“I said, is that clear, Ruthie?” Isis twisted and curled her finger just so, and Ruth nearly sobbed at the sensation.
“Yes,” she gasped, breathlessly. “Oh, god, yes, Isis.”
“Good girl,” Isis murmured, sending a bolt of arousal straight through Ruth’s core. She nodded frantically, rolling her hips up and into Isis’s touch. “So fucking responsive. I’m gonna play you like a fiddle, Redmond.”
And play she did. Though one hand never left the apex of Ruth’s thighs, now two fingers buried inside, it felt as though Isis had a hundred hands, all roaming every inch of Ruth’s exposed, sensitive body. And she wasn’t gentle.
Isis bit and sucked at Ruth’s breasts and stomach, leaving countless marks in her wake. Ruth could do nothing but gasp and whine. She clung to the headboard until her knuckles turned white, and never ceased her desperate squirming. But no amount of begging, and oh did Ruth beg, could convince Isis to give her more.
“Good girl,” Isis murmured, slapping Ruth’s trembling thigh. Ruth moaned, futilely tossing her head to dislodge a stubborn lock of hair. She could feel the sweat against her back and on her brow, and knew she must have looked a sight. But Isis said she was good. She said Ruth was being a good girl, so she just nodded and held her tongue.
Isis shot her a shit-eating grin and settled once more between Ruth’s legs. She slid her fingers out of Ruth’s pussy, and Ruth mewled in protest. “You said something about wanting my head, sweetheart. Well, now you’re gonna get it.” And with that, she lowered her head and dove in.
“Oh, holy Jesus fucking Christ!” Ruth shrieked, very nearly wrenching her shoulder with how violently her body jerked.
Isis ate pussy with the kind of dedication Ruth had never once known her to display before. She went at it like she was a starving animal and Ruth was her first meal in weeks. Oh, dear god, Ruth would never again go back to men after this. Hank had been many things: attentive, sweet, loving. But not once had he devoured her with such fervent hunger. Hell, Ruth was never going to be with anyone who wasn’t some half-insane fuckup, because by Christ, Isis had her trembling on the very precipice in a matter of mere seconds.
“Isis!” Ruth couldn’t take much more of this. Isis’s skillful tongue curled and lapped at her swollen clit in a way nothing else ever had. A heady desire to see her at work, Ruth forced her eyes open. The sight before her nearly sent Ruth over the edge. Isis had haphazardly thrown her hair into an appalling bun, and remnants of her lipstick were smeared across her face and Ruth’s body. One hand grasped Ruth’s hip, and the other lay wedged between the bed and Isis’s midriff. She was moving her pelvis- oh, oh.
The image of Isis touching herself as she pleasured Ruth with her mouth took her breath away. She squeaked, and just before she could tumble over the edge, Isis cruelly pulled away.
“No!” Ruth cried, twisting against her restraints feebly. “Please, Isis! Oh, god, I need- please!”
“What did I fucking say?” Isis demanded; her voice strained as she continued to rock against her own hand. When Ruth gave no reply, she roughly pinched at Ruth’s exposed clit, causing the other woman to shriek once more.
“I’m sorry! I’ll be good. I’ll be good,” Ruth insisted, trying to get herself under control once more. She watched with lust-filled eyes as Isis rose up on her knees, and adjusted her angle to better fuck herself.
“Christ, that’s good,” Isis groaned, fixing her gaze on Ruth’s face. “You don’t know how hot fucking uptight bitches like you gets me, babe. Guess what? I’m gonna make myself fucking cum and-” Ruth watched in awe as pleasure overwhelmed Isis and she pitched forward, barely catching herself with one arm as her body convulsed in pleasure. A look of pure ecstasy crossed her pretty face and Isis let out a drawn-out moan that nearly had Ruth joining her.
When the last of Isis’s orgasm ended, the older woman collapsed boneless on top of Ruth’s trussed up body. “Fuck,” she panted, face buried in Ruth’s chest. “The fuck was I saying?”
“You-” Ruth tried to gather her addled brains enough to answer. “Something about making yourself cum, I believe. Please, Isis, please.”
“Oh, yeah,” Isis said, sluggishly picking herself up. “I made myself fucking cum, and there’s nothing you can do about that, is there, Ruthie?” Ruth shook her head. “But you’ve been such a good girl for me. I think you deserve a reward.”
With a grunt, Isis extracted her hand from between her legs, and Ruth could see the obvious arousal that remained. With a sly grin, Isis held up the soaked fingers to Ruth’s mouth. Without even being asked, Ruth knew what Isis wanted, and she was shocked to find she couldn’t muster an ounce of disgust.
Obediently, Ruth opened her mouth and took Isis’s fingers into it. She lapped at the tangy slickness, getting her very first taste of pussy. She moaned around Isis’s fingers, making sure to clean off every last drop before the older woman withdrew.
“Good girl. Let’s get you that reward, huh?” To Ruth’s disappointment, Isis didn’t go back to eating her out. But when she slid the same two fingers she’d used to fuck herself into Ruth once more, the taller woman had no complaints. And, with a bit of contorting, Isis slid her thumb over Ruth’s throbbing clit, drawing a strangled whine from her.
So distracted by Isis’s ministrations, Ruth didn’t notice how close Isis had gotten. She hovered over the taller woman with scarcely a hair’s breadth between them. And then, Isis kissed her.
Ruth gasped against Isis’s hot mouth. She could taste herself on the other woman’s soft lips. The kiss was nothing like what Ruth expected. She’d anticipated something sloppy and rough, something thoroughly Isis, but instead the kiss was slow, and deep, and filled with such tenderness it nearly brought tears to Ruth’s eyes. Unable to stop herself, Ruth melted into the kiss. Her hips once more began to rock in time with Isis’s thrusts.
“Please,” Ruth gasped against Isis’s lips. “I’ll be good.”
“Yes,” Isis said, at last speeding up. “My good girl. Cum for me, Ruthie.” And Ruth did. She came with a strangled scream, her whole body arching up, her limbs straining against her restraints. She felt the way her inner walls pulsated and fluttered around Isis’s lithe fingers, and dear god was it good. And still Isis did not let up until she drew every last bit of pleasure from Ruth’s body, every mewl from her lips. Only then did she at last pull away.
“Jesus fucking-” Ruth felt a heavy lethargy settle into her bones, and she sank into the plush mattress. She might never recover from this. Isis Dunkler would be the death of her, she just knew it.
“Not bad for an old bitch, eh?” Isis grinned, pressing a soft kiss to Ruth’s sweaty neck. “How’s the limbs?”
“Okay,” Ruth mumbled, flexing her fingers. They were a little sore, but no numbness. That was good. “Could you?” She feebly waved with her right hand.
With just as much skill as she’d displayed when tying Ruth up, Isis untied her with brutal efficiency. When Ruth was completely freed, Isis tucked the taller woman against her and began to massage soothing circles into her aching wrists. There would be marks in the morning, Ruth knew, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She’d never been so satisfied before.
“That’s it, sweetie,” Isis cooed, pressing kisses up and down Ruth’s jawline. “You were such a good girl for me. Who knew an old broad like you could be a good girl too?”
Flushing with pride and mortification, Ruth tried to turn away, but Isis held fast. “Ah, ah, ah. Aftercare’s super fucking important, babe. I don’t dick around when it comes to being a good domme, you feel?”
“Thank you for the gesture, but I’m fine,” Ruth tried to insist, no matter how divine Isis felt. “I don’t need anything else.”
“Don’t you dare,” Isis said, taking Ruth’s chin in her hand and forcing her to face her. “None of that now. Be a good girl and don’t close yourself off from me, Redmond. I know what you need. And you need this. Maybe even more than the fucking. So stop being a little bitch and be a good girl, hm?”
“I haven’t been a girl in fifty years,” Ruth protested, no matter how much it filled her with inexplicable warmth every time Isis said it. “But fine. Sure. I suppose this isn’t terrible. Get my ankles, won’t you dear?”
Sure thing, babe,” Isis said with a wink. She clambered down onto the foot of the bed, leaving Ruth surprisingly cold. The foot massage was fair compensation, Ruth supposed, but she still curled into the other woman when she crawled back up to the headboard.
“C’mon,” Isis said, slapping Ruth’s hip. “Up you get.”
“What the fuck are you on about?” Ruth mumbled, glaring at the other woman. She’d fully planned on not moving for the next twelve hours, minimum.
“You and me are gonna take a piss, princess,” Isis said, crawling over Ruth’s prone form and off the bed entirely. “Good to do after sex. Trust me, you do not want a UTI. They’re a fucking bummer. A real damper on a gal’s fun, y’know?”
“God, you’re insufferable,” Ruth groaned, but she pushed herself up with still trembling limbs. Her whole body felt like jelly after the most intense orgasm of her life, and Ruth felt fairly confident Isis knew that.
Determined to keep some of her dignity today, Ruth swung her long legs over the side of the bed and stood up. And her knees promptly buckled under her.
“Shit,” Isis swore, catching her just before she fell flat on her ass. Isis grunted, clearly struggling to support the taller woman’s frame. With an embarrassed groan, Ruth braced herself on the nightstand and stood.
“We never speak of that again,” Ruth snapped, glaring at Isis’s amused smirk. “I mean it, Dunkler. If you say one fucking word-”
“Don’t need to, Redmond,” Isis said, hauling Ruth into the bathroom. “Now go on and take your damn piss then join me in the closest guest room.”
It must have been the lingering endorphins that made Ruth obey without question. Her wrecked reflection in the mirror should have alarmed her. No one, not even Hank had ever seen her this unkempt and thoroughly disheveled. Under any other circumstances, Ruth would have scrambled to fix herself up before even considering being seen, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. After all, Isis was waiting.
Sure enough, when she padded into the guest room down the hall, Isis was waiting with two glasses of ice water and a bunch of grapes, already half gone.
“Mm, hey babe,” Isis said, shooting Ruth an easy grin. “Damn, you look hot like that. You should walk around naked all the time.”
“Not on your life,” Ruth warned, joining Isis on the bed. It was smaller than her California King, and not nearly as soft, but it was clean, and that’s what mattered. Only when Isis offered her the glass of water did Ruth realize how thirsty she was.
“You did good,” Isis murmured, stroking Ruth’s mussed hair. “Damn woman, you know how fucking hot you were like that? All tied up and at my mercy?”
“Really, Isis,” Ruth protested, blushing hotly. Isis merely chuckled and fed her a grape.
“Don’t pretend you don’t fucking love it,” Isis said. She tucked the sheets around Ruth’s chilled shoulders. “C’mon pretty lady. Just relax. I can feel you tensing up again.”
And she was. Ruth couldn’t help it though. In a clean bed, water in her system, Ruth suddenly found herself confronted with the reality of what had happened. She’d let Isis tie her up in her marital bed, for god’s sake. And more than that, she’d loved every minute of it. And what did that say about her that she’d enjoyed something so perverse?
“Hey, talk to me,” Isis murmured. She continued to run her fingers through Ruth’s hair. “What’s going on in that big, beautiful head of yours?”
“I- we shouldn’t have done that,” Ruth said, curling in on herself. “It’s not right.”
“What’s so wrong about it?” Isis asked mildly. She wrapped the blankets more tightly around Ruth and pulled her flush against her body. “We’re two grown woman. We had fun. And there ain’t nothing wrong with getting a little freaky in bed. You know me, babe, I don’t feel ashamed about what I like, and you shouldn’t either. It’s no one’s damn business but your own.”
“But I-”
“You’re a smart, successful bitch of a woman. And that’s hot, babe.” She kissed the top of Ruth’s head, and Ruth let herself relax slightly. “And there are lots of women like you who like letting go every now and then. It’s natural. Old broads like us deserve to get fucked too. Nothing fucking wrong with wanting to feel good. Understand me?”
Ruth nodded, finally sinking into Isis’s embrace fully. Though she hated to admit it, Isis was right. She had liked it. It felt better than anything that had happened in the past year. And dear god, did she want to do it again.
“Well, who’d have thought Isis Dunkler would be such a fucking softie,” Ruth said.
“Bitch,” Isis shot back, flinging the empty grape stem onto the nightstand. She ignored Ruth’s disapproving glare, and turned out the light.
Exhaustion overtook Ruth, and she nuzzled into Isis’s shoulder. She smelled of sex and booze. And Ruth wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
Just before she nodded off, she heard Isis whisper one last, “good girl,” and then start to hum. And for once, everything was just perfect.