Anise the Snowboarder Page 3

  I pressed the switch that set the glorious Aphrodite humming away in my hands. I glanced over at Miss Baxter, who said nothing. I pulled up my sleep shirt and got to work. At first, I felt a little self-conscious, but the pulsating dual-motor vibrations soon chased those prudish thoughts right out of my head.

  “Oh, and Anise.” Miss Baxter was clearly smirking now as she locked her gaze on mine and bored into my skull. “Do not even think of taking yourself over without my permission.”

  Wait. What? It’s bad enough that she’s watching, but making me wait for release until she allows it? What kind of sick joke is that? “Miss Baxter?”

  “You heard me, young lady.” The smirk had disappeared, replaced by a slight downturn of the corners of her mouth that I came to know as her way of showing disappointment. “Under no circumstances are you to let yourself come without my express permission.”

  “Um.”

  “These are the rules now. Either learn to live within them or the Aphrodite gets locked away. Your choice.”

  I think I must have whined just a little bit. How did we go from nice landlady who buys me expensive gifts to infuriating woman who has me masturbating in her bed, only to demand that I inform her of my desire to have an orgasm? No, not inform—ask—ask for fucking permission.

  “Oh, don’t act so surprised, Anise. I told you I’m not always a nice person. You’ve just been spared seeing that side of me up until now.”

  She touched her finger to my cheek and I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Now get to work, before I decide to add a time limit to our little arrangement.”

  “Yes, Miss Baxter.” Oh my God, what am I doing? But that thought didn’t stop me from sliding that exquisite toy over and around my slick folds, plunging it in occasionally to give some attention to one of my favorite spots. Not too much though—I was still dreading the thought of asking for my release.

  It may not have been so bad, if the Aphrodite wasn’t so damn good. I wasn’t even trying that hard and I was afraid that I might not be able to make this last more than a few minutes. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a little revved up by having somebody watching me.

  I was never really what most people would consider adventurous. Apparently, my damn landlady is more sexually enterprising than I am. I looked over at her lying there in her silk nightie, her breathing slow and measured, while I’m practically rattling myself apart.

  A little moan escaped my lips, and my thighs were beginning to move with a mind of their own. I shivered. I was close.

  “Miss Baxter?”

  “Not yet.”

  Not yet? Seriously? “Yes, Miss Baxter.”

  I slid the Aphrodite most of the way out to give myself some relief. It was almost enough, but there was still an urgent need welling up inside.

  “Clever girl,” Miss Baxter said. “Put it back in, or I’ll lock it up again. All the way in. And press firmly.”

  I told you I’m not always a nice person. She didn’t say it, she didn’t have to, I heard her words echoing in my head. And when I clenched my teeth and tried to think about something besides how badly I needed release, I believed it.

  “Miss Baxter?” Definitely whiny, but I didn’t really care. I looked up at her face and she was smirking again. “Miss Baxter, please.”

  “I don’t believe I heard a question, young lady.”

  Seriously? Fuck. “Miss Baxter, please? May I come now?”

  “Look into my eyes.”

  I locked my gaze on hers. She definitely seemed to be amused by my predicament. “Please?” I squeaked.

  “Yes, Anise, you may.”

  “Ohh. Oh, fu—uh—uck!” I shuddered violently as my orgasm rippled up from deep inside, grabbed me by the throat, and shook me until I was quite certain I would die. I lost my vision of Miss Baxter momentarily as my eyes rolled back into my skull, but last I saw was her smirking.

  “Mmm.” I figured I probably had the stupidest cheese-eating grin on my face as the Aphrodite launched me into the stratosphere, but I didn’t really care. Any modesty I had was lost when I started this little show.

  “Feeling better?” was all Miss Baxter said.

  “Um.” I shuddered with aftershock. “Did you enjoy it—watching, I mean?”

  “I’d give it an eight and a half. It might have been a nine, but I deducted half a point for your vulgar language.”

  Seriously? What’s next, scorecards? “Yes, Miss Baxter.”

  “Come here, Anise.” Her smirk was gone, replaced by a gentle smile, as she held her arms out to me.

  I edged myself over until I could rest my head on her shoulder, and sighed when I felt her stroking my hair.

  “You’re a good girl, Anise,” she said. “Would you like to stay?”

  “Here? In your bed?”

  “I suppose I could put you in the corner again if that would be more to your liking.” Her smile was back to a mischievous smirk, so I got the feeling this was her idea of humor—even if I didn’t remember my time in the corner being quite so funny.

  “Miss Baxter?”

  “Just for tonight, though. And you’re sleeping in the wet spot. It was your doing after all.”

  “Yes, Miss Baxter.” I sighed and snuggled in.

  * * * *

  “Frittata?” Miss Baxter asked as I wandered into the kitchen, still wearing my sleep shirt. She was so casual about it, as if nothing between us had changed.

  “Um,” I said. “About last night—”

  “I’m sorry, dear, it was inappropriate.” The corners of her mouth began their familiar downward journey, but the frown didn’t seem to be directed at me this time.

  “I was—um—I was actually going to say…Well, I mean you’re really inventive and all, making me ask you before I—” I felt my face flushing. Was she really going to make me say it out loud?

  “Not inventive, Anise. Cruel.”

  “Maybe.” I shivered at the memory of last night. “But it still got me pretty damn hot.”

  “I know.”

  “You know?”

  “Yes, my dear, I know.” Miss Baxter drew a long breath. “I know exactly what makes people tick, sexually speaking.”

  “What are you, Dr. Ruth or something?”

  “No, Anise, something far worse.” Miss Baxter pulled a stool from the breakfast bar and gestured to it before pulling another out for herself.

  I sat down and she did the same. She placed a slice of frittata on a plate along with a fork, and slid it over to me.

  “Anise,” she said. “I manipulated you. I saw your weakness and I exploited it. I know that you have nowhere else to turn, and I took advantage of that.”

  “It’s not like you forced yourself on me.”

  “Didn’t I? It was only after I threatened to throw you out that you let me stand you in a corner. And why did you comply, Anise? Why on earth would anyone let themselves be put in that humiliating position? I knew right then that I had you, that I could do whatever I wanted and you wouldn’t put up a fight.”

  “But I was the one who came to your room last night.”

  “Only because I confiscated your new Aphrodite.” Miss Baxter turned to look at me. “Or is it considered normal for landladies to furnish their renters with sex toys these days?”

  “There was the snowboard,” I said. “That’s normal. A little extravagant, but normal.”

  “Are you familiar with what psychologists call the principle of reciprocity?” Miss Baxter’s eyes bored into mine. “Look it up on the internet. That’s what you millennials do, isn’t it?”

  “I know what it means.” I huffed. “Why are you being this way? What did I do?”

  “I told you I’m not always a nice person. I knew you would feel indebted to me for the snowboard, and I knew I could use that to my advantage someday.”

  I pushed the plate of frittata away, untouched. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you
, girl. I’m not very nice.”

  “You know what? I’m done.” I stood up and turned toward the kitchen door, making my way back to my room, anywhere, just not here.

  “That’s it,” she hurled at me, “just quit. Go and wallow in your self-pity. It’s what you’re best at.”

  “Fuck you!” I slammed the door and leaned my crutches against the wall. I found myself digging in my dresser drawer for the magic bottle for a good thirty seconds before I remembered it was gone—that at Miss Baxter’s urging I had taken it back to the pharmacy to be disposed of properly.

  I flopped onto my bed and buried my face in the pillow. That damn woman.

  * * * *

  I must have lain there feeling sorry for myself for at least an hour, maybe more, before I even rolled over. For the life of me I could not figure out what had caused Miss Baxter to flip out on me like she did. I’d been going to therapy, I’d been hitting the slopes regularly—if anything I thought my routine was vastly improved. So, what was her problem with me?

  I had just decided I should be a big girl and ask her about it when I heard the knock on my door.

  “Miss Baxter?” I said, and then felt silly. Like who else would it be? “Come in.”

  I watched the door open a crack, followed by Miss Baxter’s hand clutching a white paper sack. The red on white monochromatic design showed a heavy-set man sporting a fedora and smiling around a cigar clamped in his teeth. I smiled. I didn’t even have to read the words under his face to know the sack was from Capone’s Deli.

  “I thought you might be hungry since you didn’t eat breakfast,” Miss Baxter said, slowly pushing her way into the room. She held up the sack like a prize. “Spinach Cannelloni? If I remember correctly, you liked it last time.”

  I inhaled deeply, trying to pull any aroma bleeding out from the sack across the room and into my lungs. “For breakfast?”

  “It’s twelve-thirty, my dear.”

  Oh, shit. I’d been moping around longer than I thought.

  Miss Baxter took a tentative step forward and shifted her gaze to the edge of my bed. “May I?”

  “Um, sure,” I said, patting the comforter and still eyeing the sack.

  “Anise, I think I owe you an explanation for my behavior.” She sat down, placing the sack between us.

  “Cannelloni is a pretty good way—” I watched the corners of her mouth twitching downward and stopped myself short.

  “Anise, I would dearly love to turn this house into a positive place for girls your age to find their feet when they need a little help.” She said this while fixing her gaze on me.

  Her eyes did not drill into me like other times, but instead wavered just a little. I felt myself relax, figuring I wasn’t going to get a lecture.

  “You may think that I lead a privileged life, and I would not disagree with you.” Miss Baxter paused a moment, as if collecting her thoughts. “But I assure you this was not always the case.”

  As Miss Baxter paused again, I took the opportunity to peek inside my carry-out lunch. God, it smelled good.

  “I paid my way through college as a sex worker, Anise.”

  I quickly rolled the sack closed again and sat up straight. Lunch could wait.

  “Not as a prostitute, if that’s what you’re thinking, but as a submissive partner in live sex shows.”

  I said nothing. I was a little shocked, but not entirely surprised. Miss Baxter was certainly not shy about activities that I had always thought of as being confined to the bedroom.

  An image of a college-aged Miss Baxter appeared in my mind. I smiled just a little. The buxom young Miss Baxter of my imagination was standing blindfolded and clad only in skimpy black leather underwear. I could see men and women lining up to get a better look at her—and more.

  “After a time, I began to transition into a more dominant role,” she said. “This is where I found my niche, you might say.”

  The image in my mind began to morph into a scene where Miss Baxter was still wearing black leather, but a lot more of it, and not blindfolded. She also held a whip coiled at her side and was pushing the toe of her boot into a man’s face while he prostrated himself before her. My smile grew wider.

  “I became very good at giving orders and having them followed to the letter. In fact, I began to expect nothing less than absolute perfection. And if it was not delivered…Well, I’ve already told you that I’m not always a nice person.”

  I sat in stunned silence, taking it all in. It certainly explained a few things, and it was definitely a fascinating story. If anyone other than Miss Baxter had been telling it, I’d say they were full of shit. But the way she looked at me as the words came out—well, she looked a little vulnerable, at least as vulnerable as the Miss Baxter I knew could be.

  I slid my hand over the top of hers. She didn’t pull away.

  “I’m trying to turn over a new leaf, Anise. To atone for some past behaviors,” she said. “So, if I seem a little demanding and inflexible at times…”

  I squeezed her hand.

  “I am trying, my dear,” she said. “Oh hell, Anise, if I ever get too bitchy, please just remind me of this moment.”

  Still thinking of the leather-clad dominatrix Miss Baxter, I smirked just a little in spite of myself.

  “Something you’d like to share?”

  “Sorry, Miss Baxter. I’m having a hard time not thinking about you commanding some guy to lick your boots.”

  “Oh, I did a lot worse than that, Anise. Do you know I once took the heiress to The Maldives throne to a party at the end of a leash?” She said this in all seriousness. “And the sad part is, I found that I enjoyed it. I actually relished the act of humiliating my clients. I ruined a few marriages along the way, too. I was pretty cold.”

  “You’re getting better,” I said, squeezing her hand. I really didn’t know what else to say. “You helped me get clean.”

  Miss Baxter let out a small hmph, a very uncharacteristic response for her. But at the same time, the corners of her mouth turned upward slightly. I decided to seize the moment.

  “So, if you need to put me in a corner every now and then,” I said, “well, that’s okay, I guess.”

  Miss Baxter squeezed my fingers. “I will do my best to rein in my behavior in the future.”

  I smiled and turned my gaze to the deli sack, still sitting between us and still filling the room with its savory scent. “Wanna split it?” I offered.

  Miss Baxter leaned her head onto my shoulder. “Sure.”

  * * * *

  “So, tell me more about your secret life as a dominatrix,” I said between bites of spinach cannelloni. We had moved to the small breakfast nook in the corner of the kitchen and Miss Baxter had rounded out the meal with a salad and a couple glasses of wine.

  “It’s not really a secret anymore, now is it dear?”

  “Well…”

  “I actually still have a few clients, though I tend to think of them more as good friends.”

  I thought about Dave the snowboard dude and the reverence he seemed to hold for Miss Baxter. And Miss Baxter had referred to him as one of her dear old friends. I wonder. Nah. Maybe?

  “I had actually once planned to turn this grand old house into a kinky bed and breakfast, complete with a dungeon and how-to lessons for the guests.”

  I should have been surprised, but at this point I didn’t think anything Miss Baxter said would shock me. I finished chewing what was in my mouth and said what was on my mind.

  “So why didn’t you?”

  “The internet, my dear.” She took a sip of wine. “Everyone’s doing it online these days. Plus, as I mentioned, I had a change of heart. I want to put my energies into doing good things from now on, not just dishing out hedonistic pleasures.”

  I knocked back a big sip of wine. I needed the courage. “I want to try it.”

  Miss Baxter looked at me and blinked.

  “Really,” I said. “You threatened to put me over your knee yesterday, I�
��d like to see what it’s like to have you actually do it.”

  “Seriously? After everything I just told you?”

  “Well, you’re not allowed to humiliate me or any psycho bitch stuff like that, but I think I could probably do with a good spanking every now and then.” I felt a grin crossing my face. “To keep me on the straight and narrow.”

  I swear I saw Miss Baxter’s face light up. I thought back to my performance with the Aphrodite in her bed and I got the feeling she might miss playing the dominatrix role a little more than she cared to admit.

  “There are some ground rules we need to discuss first,” she said.

  I nodded, reached for my wineglass, and drained it.

  “And the first one,” she said, “is never to engage in this kind of activity while you are under the influence of drugs or alcohol.”

  I set my empty wineglass down and frowned.

  Miss Baxter reached across the table and patted my hand. “You seem to be fond of knocking on my door in the evenings. I’ve got a dinner engagement that I’ve already committed to…”

  I looked at her sideways.

  “Not a client, dear,” she said and smiled. “I should be back before nine. If you’re still interested, come knock on my door and I’ll show you what it means to be put over my knee.”

  I thought about how much time this was going to give me to chicken out. Maybe that was the point. Maybe she didn’t actually want me to follow through with it. Hell, maybe I won’t want to follow through with it.

  I took a deep breath. “Yes, Miss Baxter.”

  * * * *

  Nine o’clock rolled around and I heard the front door open and close—right on time. I lay in my bed, shivering slightly in spite of the fact that I was in my flannel sleepshirt and tucked up tight under the covers. When I heard the sound of Miss Baxter’s high heels clicking on the hardwood of the hall floor, I gave her a few minutes and then screwed up enough courage to slide my legs over the side of my bed.

  “Come in, my dear,” I heard as I stood outside her door. It’s spooky how she does that. I thought I had been silent in my approach, and the small crack from the partially open door couldn’t have been enough for her to see around.