Manya Forbidden Lust 4
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A Rose By Any Other NameChapter 11 free porn video
"Heather," I gasped. I didn't know what to say. How long had she been standing there? How much had she heard? There was really only one thing to do, so I sucked it up and did it. "I'm sorry," I said, standing as I spoke. I walked over to Heather, unsure of exactly where we stood, but she silenced the doubts I had running through my mind as she opened up her arms and launched herself at me.
"Me too," she cried, dampening my shirt with her tears. We hugged for a long time until at last there was a little sound as Dr. Bergerud stood, clearing his throat to get our attention.
"I think I'll go for a walk," he said absently, giving us a wave as he left his office. "Yes, I think a walk would be very nice right about now." Dr. Bergerud chuckled as he walked down the hall, the sound echoing down the deserted hallway until he reached the double door leading to the small courtyard just outside the offices.
The doors shut and Heather and I looked at each other. We were together, alone after almost two months. I had so many things to say, and I was terrified to say them.
"Hi," I said quietly as Heather walked further into the room. She sat at a chair beside Dr. B's desk, her hands in her lap, fitfully twisting a paper napkin, turning and pulling it to shreds between her fingers. She glanced down at my amused smile and shyly put the napkin on the corner of the desk.
"Hi," she answered at last, breaking the silence that seemed almost overbearing in the small office.
"Hi," I said again, feeling foolish to be repeating myself. Confidence! I wanted to scream at myself. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down at least a bit, before opening my mouth to speak.
"Daniel, I'm..." Heather started, but I finally had enough courage to shake my head, interrupting her words.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm so... so sorry. I blew it," I continued. "There's no question, I blew it."
"Daniel, stop," Heather said, reaching out to put a finger to my lips, quieting me immediately. I had more to say, so much more, but her finger burned where it touched me. Her very presence was electrifying, and now her touch was exhilarating. I reached up to hold her hand in mine and brought them town, clasped together.
"What?" I asked.
"I need to apologize," she laughed anxiously. "You can't go first."
"I have to," I said. "I have to. A lot of this is my fault," I went on, to Heather's obvious amazement. "A lot of this could have been avoided, months ago, if I'd just talked to you when I had questions, or was uncomfortable... with anything!"
"But I'm the one..." she started, but now I was the one reaching out my hand to her. I pressed a finger against her lips, Heather's eyes widened as the touch jarred her into silence. We stared at each other, eyes locked together, as my finger slowly pulled back from her lips. I traced a line up and down her jaw, remembering what it was like to touch her, to be touched by her.
Heather shivered as my hand finally slid down past her chin and away, and I smiled as she unconsciously leaned forward to keep the contact for as long as possible. My other hand was still holding hers and I gave a gentle squeeze.
"I'm sorry," I repeated. "I shouldn't have reacted like I did. I don't know why you were doing what you did, and I want to know," I said, nodding slightly that I was serious. "I need to know why you did some of the things you did, but..." and here I paused, looking for the right words.
"What?" Heather asked, during the silence.
"I'm ready to listen now," I said. "I wasn't before, but now I am."
I'd like to say that after our little reunion, Heather and I returned to my apartment together, where we immediately jumped in bed together, making up for so much lost time. I'd like to say that.
But that wasn't the case. We had to talk first; we both knew it, although I'm sure neither one of us was really looking forward to it all that much. But I was confident I would be able to stay calm, and hoped the talk would go smoothly.
In fact, though our conversation had not gone as well as I'd hoped it might, it did go well. I felt I was much more open-minded than I had been before, and I certainly kept my calm, but while I didn't allow my temper to explode like the last time we'd spoken, I certainly had questions.
"I don't get it," I said. "This had been going on how long?"
"I met Stacey at the club," Heather explained again. "It was right after I got fired from Pablo's. You had taken me in, and suddenly I had this great job."
"But what happened there?" I asked. I was convinced something had occurred at the club, something that I was going to hate hearing about, but felt I needed to know. "Is that where you got all those... ideas?" I pressed. The night Heather had tried her bondage games on me was one of the most frustrating of my life, and I just knew it was somehow related to her work.
"Nothing happened there," she answered in frustration. "I mean, yes, that's where that came from," she said. "A lot of the guys at the club seemed to like being tied up, being dominated, and I thought you might."
"So you were trying this out at work before you tried it out on me?" I asked.
"No!" she said. "Daniel... all I did at work, all I did, was act as hostess. Not like that," she said when I made a face. "I brought the members into the main dining room, took their coats, that kind of thing. Nothing more."
"What about... the stuff from Stacey?" I asked, knowing that many of the toys and paraphernalia she had brought home had belonged to Dr. B's wife.
"That had nothing to do with work," she answered. "Except that's where I got the idea." She blushed at some memory. "Nothing happened at work," she repeated. "But sometimes I watched." she blurted, now turning almost accusing. "You would have watched too. It was exciting!"
I thought of my sister now, naked with Chris on the couch, or even wandering around the apartment as she often did, and I knew how Heather felt. Watching two people, man and woman, two women together, or even one woman by herself, could be exhilarating, far beyond the rush of watching two porn actors slamming together on a TV, and I nodded in agreement.
"Maybe," I said carefully. "Okay, probably," I agreed. "But the night you tried it out on me was definitely not exciting."
"Then I didn't do it right," Heather groused. "But you... you didn't need to be such an asshole about it."
"I'm sorry," I said, clenching my fists in frustration. She's right, I said to myself. You know she's right. Heather was right, my sister was right, Dr. Bergerud was right, they were all right... I had been an asshole. I felt as if I'd had every right to be upset, but I hadn't handled things well at all. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I repeated, bringing a small smile to Heather's lips. "I should have talked with you before."
"I thought you'd like it," Heather said quietly. "I was wrong."
"Maybe not," I replied. "I sure didn't like it the night you sprung it on me, but who knows... maybe you should have taken lessons from Stacey." I smiled now, feeling we were once again on solid ground.
"Maybe," Heather answered happily. "Dan, I'm so sorry," she started again, but I quickly stopped her apologies.
"Hold on a sec," I said. "I just need to know... what was going on between you and Stacey the night I walked in on you?" I asked. "That's it... that's all I want to know. I just need to know what the hell that was."
Heather looked down at the floor, her eyes tracing the lines in the carpet as she paused before answering.
"Heather?" I asked again. "What was that?"
"Stacey," she blurted suddenly, looking close to breaking out in tears. "That was Stacey's fault."
"What do you mean?" I asked. "You were naked, you were whipping her... I'm sorry if I freaked out, but what did you expect?"
"I don't know," she said. "I've always liked girls," she said. I wasn't too surprised to hear this from her. There were too many times we were together when she commented on how pretty another girl was and I had certainly been curious, although this was another issue I had never raised with her. "I know that's hard for a lot of guys to understand," she continued, "but I've always been fascinated by them. My first kiss, my first experience, was with one of my best friends in junior high. We didn't know what we were doing, but it was thrilling. I felt so alive, so loved!"
"What happened?" I asked, wanting to tell Heather how I knew exactly how two girls could love each other. Someday I would tell her about my sister, but now didn't seem the time to go into particulars. All I could do was nod in agreement.
"We grew up, we grew out of it," she replied. "I started dating boys. And I loved it!" she exclaimed, blushing a bit at my amused response. "You knew that though, didn't you?" she asked. "Even when I was dating you, even when we were living together, I needed a woman."
"Wasn't I enough for you?" I asked, suddenly feeling completely insufficient and insecure about myself.
"That's not it! This has nothing to do with you," Heather said. "It's me. I... there's something about how I'm wired. I need men... God, right now I need you so bad, but... I also need women. I'm sorry."
"Don't be," I said. "But, what are we talking about here? You live with me and date other women? The two of us inviting a third person into our relationship? What?"
"I don't know," Heather said miserably. "Always before I've gone back and forth, ending a relationship with a guy and moving onto a girl. That's what happened right before you, you know. When I got to college, after having broken up with my boyfriend, I found someone else, this time a girl, and we got into a relationship. A bad one."
"Bad?" I asked, my jaw tightening in anticipation of what might have happened. "Were you hurt?"
"Not really," she answered. "More emotionally than physically, I guess. I thought I was in love again, but then it all went really really bad.
"Who was she?"
"You've met her," she said, blushing at something.
"Who?" I asked. "I don't think I've met too many of your friends."
"Not a friend," Heather said emphatically. "Definitely not a friend. Not anymore."
"Then, who?"
"Michelle," Heather said, covering her face with her hands. She looked at me through her fingers, waiting for my reaction, but I had trouble placing the name. The only Michelle I knew was...
"The waitress from the bar?" I said finally, shocked when Heather nodded. "You and... but I thought you hated her!"
"I do now," Heather said quickly. "But when I first started working at the bar, she was nice... and she was so free with everything. God, I envied her. I knew what she was doing was wrong, but she seemed so at ease with herself... so alive!"
"What happened?" I asked, remembering how there had seemed to be so much hatred between the two of them.
"She got out of control, both with me and at work."
"That bitch," I spat out.
"It's not that bad," Heather continued. "Although I think the reason I got fired so quickly at work was because everyone there knew that the two of us, Michelle and me, I mean, had been a couple. I think they all thought I was doing guys in the bathroom just like she was, and it was easy to get rid of us both, just to make sure."
"But they got rid of everyone," I said.
"Everyone else quit after I was fired," Heather said. "I felt so bad for them. They didn't need to do that, but I appreciated it.
"That's horrible," I said in amazement. "She's even worse than I thought!"
"Like I said, she didn't really hurt me physically. It was mostly emotional, although you've seen the scar from when she did really hurt me."
"Scar? The one by your... ?" I sputtered, shocked when Heather nodded. "I thought you said you got that at a concert?"
Heather shrugged. "I lied. What was a going to tell you? My old girlfriend got too rough one day and accidentally marked me?" She giggled at the thought, laughing through the tears still streaking her face. "That would have gone over really well with you."
"Wow," I said. "I had no idea."
"Of course you didn't. I didn't tell you."
"I don't understand though. What does this have to do with what I saw of you and Stacey together?"
"Nothing directly," Heather said. "Just... I wanted you to know where I came from before I met you, and... being with a woman was something I had missed, since... well, since before Michelle, really, at least before she got to be too much. And Stacey seemed open and willing and... oh God, experienced."
"Experienced, how?" I asked, not sure if I really wanted to hear the answer. Knowing so much of her history from Dr. Bergerud, I felt I had a pretty good idea.
"She's been at the club a long time," Heather said vaguely. "She knows what she's doing."
"Okay, fair enough," I answered. "But... what the hell were you doing?"
"Having sex."
"She was tied up and you were whipping her!" I nearly shouted, almost losing control. "Is that really what sex is to you?"
"No! No, no, no," Heather pleaded. "It wasn't like that."
"But I saw you standing there..."
"Because she wanted me to do that!" Heather shouted back, almost rising from her chair. "She wanted me to do that. I didn't know what to do... she wanted to be tied up and... she said that was the only way she could get off," Heather said, her voice lowering to a whisper. "Please believe me. I never meant to hurt you."
I was stunned to find myself agreeing with Heather. From what Dr. Bergerud had told me, both of his early relationship with his wife and their relationship now, it was obvious Stacey was a major league submissive. It certainly made her choice of professions a bit strange, as she was forced to act the dominatrix, but maybe it all made sense somehow. Maybe... I didn't know, but I knew what I had to do.
"She says she has to be... abused, in order to feel anything," Heather continued.
Suddenly I was faced with an image I didn't want to acknowledge. Dr. Bergerud, my teacher and mentor, appeared to be even more twisted than I had at first imagined.
"I can't believe he did that to her," I growled, imagining just what I could do to him before he transfered to another school.
"Who?" Heather wanted to know. "Who did what to her?"
"Her husband," I said angrily. "Dr. Bergerud! The man who was supposed to love her and cherish her... he's worse than a rapist."
"No!" Heather answered vehemently. "It's not like that at all," she said. "Not at all. Stacey doesn't do the things she does because he's forcing her to do them. She stays with him because he does them."
"What?"
"Really," Heather answered. "It's not like that at all. The two of them... they're perfect for each other. It's not as bad as you think. I mean... it's twisted, and I could never do some of the things she talks about, but... they're a complete pair... a matching set."
At that moment I realized she was right... right about one more thing. From watching Dr. Bergerud and the things he had said, comments he had made... I was suddenly certain Heather was telling the truth.
"I believe you," I said, pulling Heather to her feet as I stood in front of her. "I do. I don't know how much you really know about Stacey..."
"A lot," Heather admitted with a small blush.
"But I do believe you."
"Thank you," Heather whispered in a small voice. My heart pounding, I pulled Heather close, planting a soft kiss on her lips. She gave a small shudder and melted into me, her breasts and thighs pressing firmly against me as we embraced. I was instantly hard, my erection pressing against her soft belly, a fact Heather didn't fail to notice.
"Sorry," I said in some embarrassment, but Heather only pressed against me more firmly.
"Don't be," she murmured, her voice muffled against my chest. "I like it. I've missed it."
"Me too," I said, stroking my hand up and down Heather's back. I kissed the top of her head once before slowly pulling back to look at her. "Can we try this again?" I asked. "Will you forgive me for being such an asshole?"
"I'll try," she giggled, wiping tears from her eyes. "Can you forgive me for acting like such a slut?"
"I'll try," I agreed, breaking into what was probably the absolute biggest grin I'd had cause for in quite a while.
"Me too," she sighed happily, sinking back into my embrace. "It's the least we can do, right?" she asked.
"Right," I agreed. "Absolutely right."
After our chat, Heather and I had decided to go out to eat and get reacquainted. It had only been a couple months, and yet it felt like so much longer.
"I've missed this," I said, reaching across the table to hold her hand. We had decided on a little coffee shop by the college and were sitting there eating sandwiches and talking.
"Me too," she agreed, squeezing my hand. "Daniel?" she asked, her expression suddenly concerned.
"Yeah?" I asked, missing her anxiety. "What's up?"
"I... I don't know if I'm ready to move back in with you just yet," she admitted. "This has all been so sudden, and so painful, that I don't know if I could just jump right back into living with you."
"Who says you're invited back?" I teased, realizing too late how harsh my words sounded. "Oh, God. I'm sorry," I said when I saw Heather's reaction. "I didn't mean it like that. Not at all. The... the extra room is kind of occupied right now," I admitted.
"Oh? You shacking up with another woman?" Heather teased. I was glad to see her spirits were as high as they were and decided to play along, now that she didn't seem close to tears.
"Kind of," I said vaguely.
"Really?" Heather asked, her eyebrow arched in question. I could tell she was anxious, but didn't appear worried about it, so I continued.
"Oh yes," I said. "A younger woman, in fact. Almost a girl. It's rough, I tell you... damn difficult. See, she keeps running around my place wearing hardly any clothes. I can't tell you how often I hear her masturbating furiously in her bedroom. I've almost joined her a couple times," I laughed, mildly concerned with how close to the truth that was. Natalie was still wearing as little as possible around the apartment, and while I had never entertained serious thoughts of joining her in her bedroom, I had absolutely joined her in masturbating, her moans fueling my fantasies as I stroked myself.
"And will I get to meet this mystery roommate?" Heather laughed, not believing for a second, I think, how truthful I was actually being. "I'd like to see my competition," she huffed.
"You've seen her before, if I remember correctly," I said. "You've never met, but I know you think she's pretty hot."
"Really? You kept pictures of beautiful women around our apartment and I never said anything about it?"
I could tell Heather was searching her memory, trying to figure out who I was talking about, so I decided to put her out of her misery.
Arisha
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