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 ï>¿Zoe byTarnishedPennyÂ(C)

   After breakfast, I took a long shower.

   Afterwards, my heart already beating, I sat down at my dressing table.
Looking at my image in the mirror, I wasn't sure if I should be pleased,
disturbed, amused or what.  I knew that in any case I was pretty excited
about the day.  My inner Zoe was turning cartwheels in her excitement.

   When it comes to makeup, I generally go with the less-is-more
philosophy. Today, I definitely wanted better than that.  I took my time;
there was no hard-and-fast timetable.  I wanted 'seductive but not slutty',
'daring but possibly submissive'.  It took me a couple of tries but I think
I got it.

   Finished, I moved on to my hair.

   I'd been to my stylist the night before.  I'd pressed her to cut it
short, far shorter than I was used to.  She had asked me if I was sure and
I'd grinned at her, invented a cute bloke I wanted to impress and told her
to go for short, sexy and sassy.  She had hit the nail right on the head.

   A kind of a raggedy bob with an uneven fringe gave me a lot of
flexibility and yet, to my eyes, looked really sophisticated, really hot.
It took my creamy blonde hair and, seen in the salon mirror for the first
time yesterday, made both it and me look amazing.

   It was also easy to recreate and maintain; a few minutes with brush and
comb brought it right back.  I licked my lips, smiled at my new image. 
Mirror Zoe smiled back.  I thought she looked pretty good!

   Turning away from the mirror, I picked up an unmarked bag from a
shopping trip earlier in the week.  According to the net, 'Kay's' was the
leading sex shop in Melbourne, their stock sophisticated rather than
skanky.

   The rope in my hands was soft nylon, 5mm thick.  I thought its scarlet
colour looked remarkably good against my skin.

   There had also been silk cord for sale at the store - darker, almost
wine-red in colour and so soft it felt like it would fall through flesh
without pressure, leaving behind no mark and no damage.  Sadly, my purse
had begun to shudder and moan every time my fingers even went near it. 
And, although natural fibre was more traditional, I wanted something
softer, at least to start.  Nylon it would be.

   For years, almost since I had entered puberty, the thought of what I was
about to do today had been at the forefront of my fantasies.  I'd read
every book, every article I could find on bondage and exhibitionism.  There
weren't many, of course, at least not at first.  The local library was
hopeless and my parents kept the internet pretty-well locked down for their
kids.  Even when they bought me my first smartphone, parental controls were
welded in place.

   Things improved overnight when I got my first job and could afford an
unlimited phone of my own.  And it my 'over-nights' became much, much more
fun, let me tell you.  A new world had opened for me.

   So I'd been 'getting ready' for a long time.  I guess you could say I
was like somebody who's dreamed their whole life about Scuba diving and
who's bought all the gear and who's spent hours polishing it and touching
it and reading about diving and had a shelf of books - but had never
actually gone diving.

   Yeah, that's me.

   But today was - if I could keep my nerve - The Day.

   The shibari pattern I'd settled on was a simple tortoiseshell.  I picked
up the rope and folded it in half.  Near the top end, I tied a series of
simple overhand knots the length of my hand apart.  The loop created by the
first knot was large enough to slide over my head; once that was done and
the rope allowed to fall down my front, the remaining knots were spaced
evenly down my chest and stomach.

   I passed the two free ends between my legs and up my back before
threading it through the loop at the nape of my neck.  Passing a length
down and under each arm, I brought the ends through the second loop in
front of me, between the first and second knots.  Then back to the ropes
over my spine, the forward again.  And back.  And forth.

   Eventually, the ends of the line were tied off after several ties around
my upper thighs, much like old-fashioned garters.  Looking at the mirror, I
was struck by the bold pattern of diamonds overlying my torso.  Although a
large knot was commonly positioned over the subject's clitoris, I had other
plans for today.  Reaching down, I shifted the two cords to rest outside my
labia.

   Looking at my image, I shifted my breasts so that they protruded more
fully between the cords.  My nipples were already hard and I caressed them
gently.  Already I felt a welcome tautness in my groin, a promise of... 
what?

   I wasn't entirely sure, but was eager to explore.

   Standing back before the mirror, I turned this way and that, admiring
the effect, running my hands gently over my bewebbed body, gently pinching
my nipples.

   I twisted my hips and felt the ropes around my body twist and shift, an
improvised but most elegant sleeveless straightjacket, constraining not
movement, but what - modesty?  mood?  Here and there, my skin was gently
caught between adjoining cords.  It was an incredibly erotic feeling.  I
felt my nipples harden still more and, for the first time, a wetness
between my legs.

   I went over to my jewellery box and took out a treasured keepsake, a
short necklace once owned by my grandmother and given to me by my mother
when Gran died.  At the time, its design had meant nothing to me; the chain
of sterling fingernail-size triskelions had been nothing more than artistic
spirals - a Celtic design, perhaps?

   It wasn't until much later that I'd read of the symbol's link to, shall
we say, an alternate culture.  By then, Gran and Popsy were long beyond my
ability to ask.

   Gran?  Could it be...?

   I doubt I'll ever know.  One thing is certain, though - I won't be
asking Mummy Dearest.

   I settled it around my neck, fastened the clasp.  The polished silver
stood out nicely against my tan.  I hadn't initially known what the
triskelion design represented, but out on the streets, who knows who might
see it?  It could be my entrÃ(C)e into another new world.

   I tingled at the potential.

   Reaching again into the shop bag, I pulled out a tiny box with another
treasure, this one definitely new.  I removed two flat clips of
sterling-silver wire, much the same as paper-clips.  Lacking the second
loop, they nonetheless clipped firmly on my nipples, stimulating them and
keeping them stiff.  At the same time, they laid quite flat against my
boobs, meaning I could wear a thin dress braless and not have them visible.

   I skipped knickers and bra.  That was the whole point of the exercise.

   It should have been a miniskirt, right?  I had one ready, but on putting
it on, the thigh ropes were well below the hem.  I thought of changing the
rope pattern, but I'd put too much trouble into it, felt too committed to
it.  It was elegant in its beauty and made me feel the same.  No, I would
have to skip the miniskirt.

   I settled for a red knee-length red circular skirt.  It was a bit
formal, but would work for dressy casual.  A plain white leather belt
emphasized the narrowness of my waist.

   I hesitated while choosing a top.  If I'd had more confidence, I'd have
gone with a plain white blouse, something thin enough to show my braless
state to better advantage.  I decided that would have to wait until I had a
bit more confidence and settled for a short-sleeved, form-fitted black
blouse with a red polka dot pattern.  Add to them a pair of black (OK,
super dark blue) ankle-strap heels and I figured I had a winning
combination.

   I had one last thing to do.

   It could have been vibrating panties.  It could have been a small
bullet. It could've been an old-fashioned egg.  Instead, I reached into a
drawer for the final purchase, a 'new-fashioned' vibrator, rather like an
egg but far more sophisticated.  It had no less than 12 settings and its
batteries would run for over two hours.  A small extension or finger would
rest on top of my clitoris when the thing was fully inserted.

   I thought it would suit my purpose nicely today.  I'd already washed it
carefully and ensured it had a full charge.  I set it for a random
vibration pattern.

   Inserting it was no problem.  Although I never been with a boy I'd cared
enough about to actually have sex, I'd lost my hymen so long ago as a
little girl that I couldn't even remember it.  Yeah, go figure, all this
sexy trouble and still untapped...

   Anyway, the instructions suggested lube, but I was already so wet that
it proved unnecessary.  I had to rest one leg on a step for the right
angle; it slid in with not much effort at all.  I felt full - happily so.
Looking in the mirror, it was essentially out of sight, with my lips hiding
the clit extension and just a ring-size loop of string exposed.

   The plan was simple enough, I thought - hop on the first tram which came
along, take it at least 15 blocks and then walk home.  On the way, I had
set myself two tasks.  The first was to stop and order a coffee -- sitting
down for it so not to permit myself the luxury of takeout.  I also had
mentally highlighted my resolve to flirt with the waiter there.  When I was
done my coffee, I would stop in a shop and buy something mildly
embarrassing - condoms, maybe?

   And I would not permit myself an orgasm until I reached home again.

   So simple, right?

   I looked at myself in the entryway mirror and took a deep sigh. 
Showtime, girl!

   As I looked, I could feel the first arousing tingle deep within my
ladybits.

   I again looked at Mirror Zoe for reassurance and watched her grin
nervously at me.  Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped
outside into the warm sunshine.

   Locking the door behind me, I turned and headed down the steps, dropping
the key into my bag as I went.  I don't normally wear heels and wobbled
just a little before riding-a-bicycle ability kicked in.  Feeling surer of
myself, I strode off down the footpath towards the tram stop.

   I was pleasantly aware of the girth and solid weight of the vibrator
within me as I walked.  The vibrations were increasing as I went, but I
figured it was nothing I couldn't handle.

   Or, at least, nothing I couldn't handle initially.  I was aware of a
gradual increase in sensations.  How not?  But as exciting, as stimulating
as it all was, I figured willpower - and the ever-present threat of public
discovery and humiliation if that willpower failed me - would see me
through.

   I passed the usual neighbourhood shops.  A couple of shopkeepers I knew
waved at me.  I'd grown to like the openness and friendliness of the people
here since arriving in Oz six months ago from the other side of the world.
I waved back.  Maybe I'd stop in on my return, if I were still sane.

   Soon I was at the tram stop.  I closed my eyes, tried to focus inwardly
on this particular moment of this particular day and on the sensations.  I
was torn between that and constantly checking to see if somebody had
noticed, if there were looks of disapproval - or of interest.

   There weren't - so far.  To my surprise, I was both relieved and
disappointed.

   Standing there, I found it difficult to believe I was finally doing
this, had finally dared.  It'd been a fantasy of mine for as long as I
could remember.

   Fortunately, it wasn't long before the tram arrived.  I boarded and sat
down - no backing out now.  There were a couple of good-looking young boys
nearby, but they were lost in talking footy and scarcely noticed me.  I
wasn't sure if I was irritated or relieved.

   I settled in for the ride.

   I had of course been on Collins Street since I had arrived in Melbourne,
but who could ever know it all in that time?  It was fun just watching.  I
eventually hopped off and started walking back.  I figured it'd be at least
a half-hour before getting home.

   There are a host of coffee shops and cafÃ(C)s in the area.  I'd been in
some, but, walking along, I waited until I found one I didn't know.  It
looked new, trendy and I decided to make my stop there.

   Sadly, it was a waitress who greeted me, not a waiter, and while my
dare-list didn't exactly ban flirting with another woman, I was already
pushing my boundaries.  I chose a spot in the warm sun by the window and
ordered a cappuccino.  The vibrator was revving up and down and I was more
than a little aroused.

   The place was anything but busy, but the coffee was excellent and I
guessed business would pick up closer to noon.  I forced myself to just sip
the cappuccino; I wanted this to last.

   I sat, trying to be aware of and yet not concentrate on rope and
vibrator.  Histoire d'O had the women of Roissy prohibited from crossing
their legs in public.  Would that apply in this case?  Well, I'd never been
to France, much less Roissy and I knew nobody named RenÃ(C).  I crossed my
legs.

   And immediately uncrossed them.  Crossing them had intensified the
feeling from the vibrator, almost pushing me over the edge into orgasm.

   I knew I would have to be careful if this whole plan wasn't to unravel
in public.  Well, of course not in public - that was the whole point,
wasn't it?  I squirmed in pleasurable discomfort.

   "I like your necklace," came a voice from a nearby table.

   Startled, I turned to see a slender man sitting nearby with another
woman.  In his 40s, his black hair was speckled with grey at the temples;
grey also showed in a well-trimmed narrow beard.  His grey eyes seemed to
twinkle in amusement.

   He wore white daks, a light grey jacket, white dress shirt and a pink
tie.  There was a small carnation on his lapel.  On some people, it might
have been silly; on him it looked amazing.

   The woman with him was younger but still older than me, maybe in her
early 30s.  Straight, raven-black hair came down almost to her waist.  Her
figure was stellar.  She had high cheekbones and a perfect chin.  She was
dressed in an elegant white linen frock; her eyes were hidden behind large
round sunnies.  Her only jewellery was a heavy-linked gold chain necklace.
Beneath their table, endlessly long, shapely legs led down to white high
heels which I realized to my shock just had to be Louboutins.

   They were a stunning couple.  Sitting there, despite all the care I'd
taken, I felt quite ordinary, almost drab.

   "Thank you," I stammered, unnerved at the steady gazes of the two of
them.

   "It looks quite old," he said.

   "It was my grandmother's.  I'm not sure where she got it."

   "Ah, a family treasure!  Such things are indeed worth keeping.  But the
symbol is a deep one, for those interested in such.  Do you follow
symbolism or are you wear it purely for its beauty and family connection?"

   I gasped as the little vibe deep within me surged suddenly.  One of his
eyebrows went up, but he said nothing.  His companion sat looking at me
impassively.

   In a moment, the sensation decreased a little and I was able to respond.

   "Well, I wear it in memory of Gran and it is really pretty..."

   I paused.  At the pause, the girl smiled slightly, briefly, almost as if
in compassion.

   "It is indeed," he said approvingly.  "What of the symbol?"

   I had to wiggle in my chair as the vibrator abruptly got stronger.  It
was becoming harder and harder to focus.  Inner Zoe giggled at my
predicament.

   Pulling myself back from the brink, I said cautiously, "It was
originally Celtic and stood for balance - mind, body and spirit, or mother,
father and child, but always balance.  What it meant to Gran, I am not
sure."

   He smiled at me.  "So true.  But you look warm there in the sun.  Would
you care to join us here in the shade?"

   I was indeed hot, but it wasn't entirely due to the sun.  I realized
that I was very close to cumming.  Holding off that onrushing orgasm was
taking a lot of concentration and mental effort.  I could feel perspiration
on my forehead.  I sagged as another wave of pre-orgasmic tremors took me.

   The man looked briefly at the woman, then rose, walked to my table and
held out his hand in invitation.  "Come!"

   Drained of almost all will but that needed to hang on, I took his hand
and followed him to sit in the shade, facing away from the street and
entrance.

   "Pardon my manners," he smiled.  "My name is Gideon.  May I ask yours?"

   "Zoe," I replied softly.  The devilish machine had slowed down.

   A little.

   "Zoe, this is Claire," he said, introducing me to his companion. 
"Sadly, Claire has business elsewhere and cannot stay." It was not so much
an explanation as a dismissal.  The girl gave a small moue, but rose on cue
and kissed his cheek.  She extended her hand to me.  I took it and found
her grip was surprisingly strong.

   "It has been a pleasure to meet you, Zoe.  I do hope to see you again."
She smiled again, this time with more sincerity.  I noticed a slight
accent, but couldn't place it.  "It is indeed a lovely necklace.  I hope
you benefit from it." With that curious remark, she bent and kissed my
cheek, then dropped her hand and left.  Her poise and gait were as polished
as any high-fashion model.  Her bottom inside the skirt was exquisite.

   I realized that, were I ever to meet her again, I would have either
found a best friend or a terrible enemy.

   Gideon cleared his throat.  Looking past me and raising his hand high
over his head, he waved his index finger down at us, back and forth.

   Puzzled, I looked over my shoulder to see the barista nod at us before
starting two fresh cappuccinos.

   "Over here, Zoe," Gideon said from behind me.  "We were talking and you
are far prettier than she."

   Flustered, I turned back.  Gideon had leaned back in his chair, facing
me.  There was a grin of sardonic amusement on his face.

   "So, Zoe," he said levelly, "Tell me about yourself."

   I gulped inwardly.  Deep inside, I realized that this wasn't what I'd
planned and that this wasn't merely a good-looking man standing for a
coffee.  'Flirt with waiter' had been left miles back in the ditch.  This
was something far more serious.  That realization hit me at the same time
as the damned vibe took off again.

   I gasped, my hands clutched the arms of my chair.

   I think my eyes crossed.

   I would not - could not - have an orgasm in front of this man, a total
stranger, not in public.  That wasn't how the day-dreams ended.

   The vibe slowed down, almost to nothing.  I remained poised just short
of the edge, simmering with frustration.

   "Zoe," his deep voice repeated.  Soft as it was, it was commanding in
its presence, almost compelling.

   I opened my eyes again, stared at him, tried to smile back.

   I'd never felt so exposed before, so...  overawed.  But I realized that
I liked it.

   "Be honest now, Zoe.  Be honest with both of us.  You know what that
symbol means, don't you?"

   I bit my lip, lowered my eyes.  "Yes," I said softly.

   "What does it mean to you, Zoe, in the context of here and now?"

   "BDSM," I whispered, barely audibly.

   "Yes.  And -- fair dinkum now - is that why you are wearing it?"

   His pale eyes bored into mine, not turning away as two cappuccinos were
delivered.

   Once the server had left, I worked up the courage to answer his
question. "Yes."

   "And from that admission, I can tell you two things about Zoe," he said
in a soft voice.

   I looked at him and squirmed as another round of not-quite-orgasm hit
me.

   Without waiting for more of a response, he continued.

   "You, lovely Zoe, are somebody who wants to be a sub, but doesn't know
how.  Am I correct?"

   To my horror, I felt a full-body blush like a sunrise.  How not to look
sophisticated!  In spite of myself, I nodded shyly.

   "And this was your first try at it, yes?"

   I nodded again, humbly.  Short of just telling him to rack off, I saw no
other choice.

   "Good.  And the second thing I can tell about you is a bit different. 
That outfit you have on is a perfect tenner.  But Claire -- such an eye she
has!  - noticed some subtle bumps and shadows which suggest that you are
wearing something...  unusual under it?  Am I right in that, Zoe?"

   I closed my eyes, opened them before nodding again, slowly,
hesitatingly.

   His smile faded, but his overall expression remained friendly,
supportive.  I felt that I could fall into his eyes, they were that
enthralling.

   "Show it to me." It was less than a directive, more than a request.

   Despite the entire idea of my expedition, despite necklace, despite
shibari and despite vibrator - despite it all - I was shocked at his
expectation.

   I shook my head.  "No."

   "No?  Then tell me, Zoe, why did you put on a bondage harness under your
kit before you went for a walk this fine morning, if not to risk getting
discovered?  Or do you belong to another?"

   My eyes were locked onto my knees.

   "Look at me, Zoe."

   Two ages and an eternity later, I raised my eyes to his.

   We were sitting in the open in an upscale cafÃ(C).  I knew I could
simply get up and walk away.  I knew that, but as riveted as a bird by an
approaching snake, I simply could not make myself move from where I sat.

   My heart pounded, and it wasn't just the damned vibrator inside me.  My
soul seemed to rise at the chance I knew could be mine.

   "We can do this two ways, Zoe.  The first is for you to do what you and
I both know you want to do, which is to lift the hem of your skirt where
you are sitting and show me what you are wearing.  That will leave us as
friends and give us both an opportunity for the future.  Or - or - you can
say No again, in which case we will just finish our cappuccinos and go our
separate ways with no hard feelings.

   "It's not every day I get to spend an hour with such a pretty young
woman.  I've enjoyed your company and do hope you've enjoyed our time
together as well.  But now it's up to you.  Which is it to be?"

   My heart was hammering.  I was terrified, yet I also felt I was in the
brink of...  what?

   Fulfilment?

   Destiny?

   Or something else, something much, much darker?

   I moaned as the bloody vibe chose that moment to go into overdrive
again.

   I had endless choices; I had no choice whatever.  Not letting my eyes
slip away from his, I reached down and slowly lifted my skirt, holding the
hem up against my chest.  The vibrator slowed down as I did so.

   "Spread your legs a bit, Zoe.  Ah, that's better!  Very pretty indeed.
Did somebody do that for you or did you do it yourself?"

   I found myself unable to respond.  I let the skirt fall.

   After a moment, he reached across and stroked my cheekbone with a gentle
finger, smiled.

   "You did it yourself, didn't you?"

   I didn't know whether to be proud or ashamed.  Still silent, I nodded
meekly.

   "Its beautiful, Zoe, artistic and very sexy.  What I could see of it,
that is.  How far up does it go?  Or did you just limit it to your bum and
thighs?"

   "It's a full tortoiseshell, all the way up."

   "What a beaut!  You're very talented, Zoe, for an amateur.  You are a
beginner, aren't you?"

   I didn't know what to say.

   "Is there somebody else with a claim on you?"

   I shook my head.  There certainly wasn't, although too many nights had
been filled with dreams of one - a strong, demanding, patient, kind,
knowledgeable, assertive man.  Only my dreams had never shown me his face.

   He smiled, laid his hand on the table, palm upwards in invitation.  "I
would very much like to see the rest of it, Zoe."

   The rest of it - that would mean...

   I was so desperately torn.  I so wanted this man's approval.  My body
ached for his touch, the touch of a man I'd not known for an hour.

   I wanted to be sure.

   I wanted to be pushed.

   I wanted to be led.

   I wanted tomorrow to be safe.

   I wanted today to be...  what?

   Not normal, that was for sure.  Anything but normal.

   The indecision must have shown on my face, for Gideon spoke again.

   "Zoe," he said softly, sipping the last of his cappuccino and dropping a
bill on the table to cover the cost of our coffees, "it has been a sweet
morning and perhaps we will see one another again.  I am going to leave
now. I am going to my flat, three minutes' walk from here.  I hope you come
with me, for I do wish to see the rest of that pattern.  The choice is
yours."

   With that he rose to his feet.  Passing me, he leaned down and kissed
the top of my head in passing, like a mother kissing a small child on its
way out to play.  He leaned down and whispered in my ear, "Dare to follow
your dreams, Zoe.  She'll be right."

   With that, he strode out of the cafe and out the door.  He didn't look
back.

   I sat there, torn in so many different ways.

   He'd said we might see each again.  I wanted that.  I thought I wanted
it.

   And he seemed to understand and I had so desperately sought that kind of
understanding ever since I became a woman.

   And he seemed nice.  Certainly handsome and well-groomed, well-dressed.
His wristwatch would have cost my rent for a quarter.

   And Claire looked terrific.

   But I was terrified of what he might be.  Worse - I was terrified of
what I might turn out to be.

   And good girls didn't want to seem forward.  Oh hell, who was I kidding
about 'good girls'?  Good girls didn't -- as I found myself doing as I
heard the door close -- have to bite off a squeal as a momentary pulse from
a vibrator drove them close to insanity in public.

   I sat there in complete frazzle for perhaps 20 seconds.  Deciding, I
lurched to my feet and, as quickly as I could on unpractised heels, ran
after him.  The sound of my heels seemed to echo thunder in the room around
me.

   Bursting out the door, I saw him turn a corner just ahead.  Rounding it
myself, I saw him about to enter a doorway like any other.

   "Gideon!" I cried.

   He turned at the sound of my voice.  A heartwarming smile crossed his
face.  My heart gave a double beat at its warmth.  And the damned vibe shot
up again, reminding me of how this day had been intended.  I barely managed
to control the wobble in my gait.

   "Zoe!  I am so glad you changed your mind!" He held the door open for me
and gave a small bow as he waved me through.

   His flat was on the first floor, up a flight of real marble stairs.  The
building was like a dowager determined to maintain her looks at any cost.
Clean and well-maintained, it could only be described as 'stately'.

   His key went into the lock without so much as a sound, held in fingers
concert pianists would kill for.

   He paused before opening the door.  "Are you sure, Zoe?"

   "No," I said.  "I mean Yes.  I mean, I think so.  But No, I don't know
what I'm doing."

   His smile was comforting, endlessly warm and gentle.  His hand softly
traced my jawbone and I felt as safe as I had felt daring an hour before.

   "That's OK.  I do."

   With that, he pushed open the door.

   His flat was surprising.  I wasn't sure what I had expected, but it
hadn't been this.  It seemed immaculately clean and tidy, as if being
readied for a pre-sale viewing.  Skylights made it bright and warm, as if
one was actually outside.  Gauzy curtains blocked a view of what was
obviously a balcony outside.

   The predominant colour was a light cream set off with large highlights
of warm medium brown.  A modest but serviceable kitchen was located
unobtrusively in one corner; an overhead ring of iron hooks above a small
butcher-block island was festooned with shiny copper pots and pans.  The
centre of the room was open and brilliantly lit by the sun; the floor was
covered with an elaborate rug in cream, orange and dull red.

   The walls held perhaps a dozen framed black-and-white sketches or
drawings, all obviously by the same artist.  While most were perhaps 12" by
18" in size, some were smaller, one no bigger than a postcard.  All were
done in a bold, simple fashion.

   The people in them were...  odd.  All of them were distorted to some
degree or another, some to the point of being grotesque - men with
erections as large as themselves, women with ornate hair farting in the
direction of a sour-looking naked dwarf, naked women at their toilette or
surrounded in ecstatic dance by swirling hair and fabric.

   Deformed as they were and despite the simplicity with which they were
drawn, the figures were immensely vibrant, alive.  I felt myself being
drawn by the intensity the artist had so purely portrayed.

   I was impressed with Gideon's taste.  I went from one to another, turned
back to see him watching me approvingly.  One eyebrow went up in question.

   "They're amazing!" I said excitedly.  "Who...?"

   "Aubrey Beardsley," he said.  "19th century.  Glad you like them." He
smiled again, then, "Would you like something to drink?"

   I shook my head, bubbling with unstated questions, then fell silent as I
remembered why we had come here.  The vibrator had backed off; I could feel
just the barest tingle between my legs.

   "No?" Gideon asked.  "Well then, why don't you put your handbag down and
then come over here into the light?"

   I moved towards the rug, stopped and bent over to remove my heels.

   "Leave them on, Zoe."

   This time, it was a command; I left them on.

   He looked at me standing there, my hands by my sides.  Then he spoke,
his voice low.  "Well?"

   That one word sent shivers all over me.  I really had no idea.  This
whole scheme looked really, really crazy to me now.  My adolescent fantasy
about walking around in public had somehow morphed into me about to take
off my clothes in front of a total stranger in his flat, a man I'd only
known for an hour.  What was I thinking?

   Inner Zoe was laughing hysterically.  What had I been thinking about if
not exactly and precisely this?

   I gulped, closed my eyes and, crossing my arms in front of me, reached
down for my hem.  In one smooth motion, I pulled it up over my hips, then
my shoulders and over my head.  Pulling my arms out of my sleeves, I
dropped it on the floor by my feet and stood upright for his inspection.

   To my surprise, he said not a word about my body, the shibari - none of
it.

   "Pick it up," he said, pointing at my dress.  "Never be sloppy, Zoe. 
Pick it up, fold it neatly and put it by your handbag." Again, it was not a
request.

   Wordlessly, I did so, returning to the centre of the rug.  I could feel
the warmth of the sun on my shoulders.

   "That's better, Zoe.  Now you need to present yourself properly.  Stand
up very straight and put your hands behind your head.  Spread your feet
apart.  Wider - shoulder width.  Good.  Now arch your back to push your
chest out.  Excellent."

   I was both exhilarated and embarrassed at the complete exposure the
position left me in.  No know what else to do, I kept my eyes on the floor.

   "Some doms, Zoe, want their subs' eyes downcast at all times.  Right
now, I don't want that.  I want to be able to watch your expression, see
your soul through your eyes.  I want you to look up and forward, Zoe, all
the time until I tell you differently."

   I raised my eyes, looked him in the face.  His expression was at once
stern yet encouraging, patient yet demanding.  Above all, I saw openness,
kindness.  He smiled and again his finger traced my cheekbone.  I felt
helpless yet so incredibly powerful.  I felt the air moving over my body in
a way I had never felt it before.  I found it exhilarating, liberating.

   Oh, and intensely erotic.

   "Stand still while I examine this most artistic marvel, Zoe.  Do you
mind if I touch you?"

   It was a curious mix of command and almost humble request.  I was
perplexed, but nodded.

   "Thank you."

   Gideon walked around me on the rug.  I could feel his grey eyes moving
over every part of my body.  From time to time, a slim finger would trace a
section of cord, stroke the skin beneath or beside it.

   "Am I to understand that this is your first time wearing such a..." he
paused very briefly, "...  creation, Zoe?"

   "Yes."

   "And nobody helped you?"

   "No."

   I felt his cool, strong hands sweeping over the skin of my bum, up my
waist and settling on my shoulder.  I'd thought I couldn't be any more
turned on, but I was very wrong.  And it was a different type of arousal
entirely.  The vibrator had left me wanting to cum; Gideon's gentle
caresses left me yearning - desperately needing - to be possessed.

   "You made only one small mistake in symmetry, Zoe.  One loop went over
back here when it should have gone under.  Especially given your
inexperience, it's brilliant."

   He removed his hands from my shoulder, gave me a gentle kiss behind one
ear.  I thought I would melt right there.

   Gideon resumed his inspection.  Finally, he had returned to a position
immediately in front of me.  Reaching up, he cupped my breasts, his fingers
sweeping under the ropes at their base.

   "And these clips are so clever,' he smiled.  "And so perfect for such
perfect breasts."

   For some reason, I was almost disappointed at his respectful tone.  Deep
down inside, I wanted to be thrown over his shoulder and carried into his
cave.

   Beyond him, I could see his bedroom through an open door, a neatly-made
bed with a sturdy wood frame and a lot of pillows, a bureau with a large
mirror.  Beside that open door was a closed one fitted with a deadbolt
lock. Between them on the wall was a large, full-length mirror in a heavy
frame.  I could see the two of us in it, watch his hands linger over my
breasts.

   "How long have you had them on, Zoe?"

   I looked at the clock on the wall.  "Maybe an hour and a half?"

   "Oh, no!  That's far too long, girl!  We need to get them off.  May I?"

   To me, they seemed fine.  My breasts felt taut, tingling, aching to be
touched, but presumably he knew better than me.  I nodded again.

   Very softly, very carefully, he removed them, put them on a nearby side
table.  They gleamed on the dark wood.  Then the sensation hit me.

   He'd been right.  My nipples hurt now - sharp, deep pain to the extent
that I sagged forward.  I might have collapsed had he not caught me.  He
held me for a moment, then helped me stand back up.  His lips came down,
softly, on mine and the tip of his tongue swept slowly and lightly over
them as tender hands caressed my breasts, helping to restore blood flow to
my nipples.

   I moaned with both pleasure and pain.

   "Wait a bit," he whispered.  "You'll be fine."

   His hands left my breasts and began to roam over my stomach and thighs.
A gentle finger traced between my legs.  Suddenly he pulled away from me,
half-kneeling in front of me.  A curious finger touched the vibrator's loop
protruding from between my labia.  His eyes went wide.

   "Zoe, are you having your per...?" he stopped, his other hand on my
mound obviously feeling the vibrator dance inside me, letting him know
that, no, I wasn't wearing a tampon.

   "Is this a vibe?" he asked, his eyes wide.

   I nodded, this time feeling both embarrassed and proud.  "Mm-hmm."

   He rose, his face beaming, eyes wide in admiration.  "Such daring!  Such
an adventurous girl!  And it's been going all the time?"

   "Since I left the house, yes."

   "Bewdy!  No wonder you have been squirming!  Zoe, very few women could
endure that for long.  Not willingly.  Who has the control?"

   "Nobody has it.  It's by the door in my unit."

   "Have you cum yet, Zoe?"

   I shook my head.  "No.  And I really want to!  But I promised myself
that I wouldn't until I got home."

   A curious look came over him, part admiration, part pity.  And lust -- I
could see that in his eyes.  "Oh, but I want you to cum, Zoe.  May I help
you?"

   Seeing the look on my face, he grinned.  "No, I didn't mean that, Zoe,
although perhaps another time.  For right now, I want to get you used to
the idea of your orgasms being controlled by somebody else.  Perhaps 'guide
you' would be a better way of starting it."

   I thought for a moment.  "How?"

   "Well, let's start off by simply removing those lovely ropes.  I'd love
you to have photos of them first though, especially as it is your first
time."

   My hesitation must have shown on my face, for he smiled again and said,
"Do you have your phone with you, Zoe?"

   I nodded.

   "Then let me take them with your phone.  You would own the photos, not
me.  But something this significant, this beautiful, this daring should be
recorded."

   When I nodded again, he brought me my bag.  I took out my phone,
unlocked it and handed it to him.

   For the next minute, he circled me, the phone flashing and clicking. 
Then, deliberately, he set it down.

   "It's time to take them off, Zoe.  The effect is so lovely, but I think
you'll be impressed with the marks it has left.  Just relax now; let's do
it together."

   He was of course correct, for once the red cords were removed, their
image remained their place, a pale 3D photographic negative etched into my
flesh.  My fingers lingered in them, as did his.

   Gideon picked up my phone again and raised an eyebrow.  "As you were
before, Zoe." I resumed my standing pose and again Gideon's room was filled
with flashing lights as he took photo after photo of me.

   Meanwhile, the insatiable device within me continued to tease and
torment.  I tried hard not to cry.

   Finished, Gideon stepped back.

   "OK," he said, "it's time.  Where would you like to go from here?  Most
subs aren't offered the choice, but you and I are in an odd relationship. I
promised you an orgasm, adventurous Zoe.  How?"

   "I have a choice?  And, er, what about you?" I could see the tent in his
trousers.  It fascinated me.  I had seen photos, videos, but never the real
thing, in the flesh, so to speak.

   It was time.

   "Zoe, you are a remarkably pretty girl.  You have also shown a sexual
daring, an inventiveness which has not only amazed me, but as you see..."
here he waved a hand over his groin, "aroused me.  And, even more amazing,
you did it without seeming a slag.

   "I want you, Zoe.  I very much want you holding and stroking me, I want
you kneeling in front of me, I want you bent over that table, I want you
squealing and bucking under me in my bed."

   I went scarlet at his bluntness but, unbidden, my hand went forward,
stroked his length under the fabric of his trousers.  His breath hissed a
little.

   I let my hand fall away, my eyes falling to the floor again.  "I'm
sorry. I...  I don't know..." My ignorance and, dare I say, innocence must
have shone through, for Gideon pulled back from my hand.

   "Zoe, do you mean to tell me that you...?"

   "Yes.  I mean No.  I mean not yet."

   Both eyebrows went up this time.

   "But I think I want to," I said, my heart pounding.  "With you.  Here.
Now."

   His face turned serious.  "With me, Zoe - yes, too right.  Here?  Quite
possibly."

   Then he shook his head.  "But now?  I don't think so."

   "But why?" Dammit!  I was so ready!  Weren't Aussie boys always ready?

   "Perhaps I should have said, 'not quite yet', Zoe.  To start off with,
are you on any form of birth control?"

   I looked down at the floor.  "No," I whispered.  Inner Zoe smirked --
how could I have overlooked something that obvious?

   "Well, there's a big reason right there.  And, despite the positive
press, condoms don't always work."

   I almost started to cry.

   "But," he said gently, "I think we can be sure you leave here happy."

   I looked down at the floor, not sure what to think.

   He took my chin in his hand, aimed my face at his.  "Zoe, you are not to
cum without permission.  Do you understand?"

   "Yes."

   "Yes, sir."

   I nodded.  "Yes, sir."

   Within me, the vibrator surged and I bent forward at the waist, unable
to hold myself upright.

   His voice cut through the sensations.  "Zoe - sit up!  It is not yet
your time!" His hand seized my hair and pulled me upright.  My inner Zoe
moaned with me.  I was a hairbreadth away from orgasm.  His hand pulled on
my hair, moved my head up to look into his face.

   "Not yet, little one.  Not yet.  Do you understand?" He shook my head
softly.

   I groaned, nodded my head.  "Yes."

   "Yes, what?"

   "Yes, sir."

   He retrieved my phone and knelt in front of me.

   "I want your permission to film you cumming," he said.  "Something for
us to share later."

   I could barely hear him over what seemed to be a thunderous buzzing from
inside me.  It wasn't the vibrator -- it was pretty silent.  It had to be
my system reacting to the whole situation.

   I nodded.

   "Good on ya!" he beamed before placing a large ottoman in the middle of
the rug.  About a metre square and chair-high, it was covered in brown
leather.

   "Take off your heels, Zoe," he commanded.  "I don't want holes in the
leather."

   At his direction, I knelt on the box, my knees spread wide.

   "Put your hands behind your head, Zoe," he directed.  "Show off those
beautiful cans.  And smile."

   Putting my hands back was easy enough and my boobs were indeed pushed
forward.  Smiling was harder as the almost-breaking orgasm bedevilled me. I
tried however and, when I did so, he began filming me, walking in a slow
circle around the perimeter of the rug.

   After he had made a complete rotation around me, he stopped and squatted
down in front of me.

   "Play with them, Zoe.  Show the audience how fine-looking they are, what
magnificent things of beauty and pleasure.  Let the camera see how proud of
them you are and how much pleasure they can give you."

   My hands came down to cup and lift their weight.  The
fading-but-still-present rope marks in my soft flesh felt very odd.

   "Play with your nipples, Zoe, but I remind you not to cum until I give
you permission."

   With thumbs and forefingers, I pulled them, stretched them, rolled them.

   I was too close.  Raising my eyes, I looked into the camera lens. 
"Please, sir, may I cum?"

   "I didn't quite catch that, Zoe."

   I continued to work my boobs as I repeated myself, my groin pulsing with
desire.  "Please, sir, may I cum?"

   He looked at me, frowned.  "No, not yet.  But soon."

   "Reach down with your fingers, Zoe.  Spread your lips for me, for the
camera."

   I did so and he leaned forward, capturing my exposed pussy in closeup.

   "You beauty!" he exclaimed.  "Now, holding your lips apart, I want you
to gently stroke yourself, up and down.  Keep doing that until I tell you
to stop."

   I traced the length of my pussy with a forefinger, working around the
plastic cord from the vibe.  Fire sirens were going off inside me.  I was
pretty sure my eyes were crossed.

   "Stop." His voice was sharp, commanding.

   A tear of sheer frustration leaked from my eye.  I looked up at him to
see both pleasure on his face -- and, I thought, admiration.

   Meanwhile, the damned vibrator would simply not let me focus.  It took
all my concentration to not explode in front of him.

   "I don't think I can do this much longer, Gideon.  Please, please let me
cum!"

   "Not yet.  If I can endure watching you naked in front of me, you can
wait, too."

   "Please?"

   "No." The refusal was flat.

   My inner Zoe was shrieking with delight.  It was this I had been
dreaming of, of being dominated, controlled, used for somebody else's
pleasure and as an instrument of their sexual will -- and whim.  My body
protested the torment of overwhelming sensations, my captive mind purred in
happy contentment.

   After a minute -- an endless minute -- Gideon told me to start playing
with my clit.

   "Softly, gently, round and round, Zoe.  And you are not allowed to cum.
This is not for your pleasure, but for mine and the camera's."

   My world was comprised of nothing more than sensation now.  With a
well-lubricated fingertip, I teased, stimulated and circled as much of my
love bud as I could reach around that damned vibrator.

   I also tried everything I could dream of to hold off against a
steadily-building storm of responsiveness.  I think my eyes were crossing.

   Finally, Gideon smiled from behind the camera.  "All right, Zoe, cum for
me."

   A second later, waves of lightning burst from my clit, rippling out
across and along my entire body.  My nipples felt like they were on fire. I
was exploding, melting, falling into a cloud of incandescent butterflies.
It was an ongoing explosion of pleasure - endless, timeless, limitless.

   It went on and on and on.  Throughout it, Gideon encouraged me, praised
me.  His words stoked the fires and pushed me higher than I could ever have
possibly imagined.  I sobbed as his fingers roved over my breasts and inner
thighs, encouraging and fanning my delight.

   This was it.  It was precisely this I had been dreaming of all these
years -- being controlled, used by a loving, knowledgeable man.  The
ongoing, onrushing orgasm was amazing, but the mental satisfaction was even
better.

   I wanted this.  I wanted him doing this.  It felt right, exactly how I
imagined it would be to be dominated.  I wanted his hands on me, I wanted
to feel owned, I wanted his merciless, uncompromising love.

   Eventually, it slowed down to the point where I could gingerly pull out
the vibrator and, with trembling fingers, turn it off.

   Gideon picked me up tenderly and carried me to the nearby sofa.  He sat
down with me on his lap and hugged me lovingly, patting my head, stroking
my shoulders and back.

   "You were amazing, Zoe," he said softly.  "I'm very proud of you."

   I had never felt so loved, so cherished, so complete.  Never had I felt
such purpose in my life.

   I noticed a hardness between us, gradually softening.  On impulse, I
wiggled my bum against it.

   "Stop it, Zoe," he said gently.  "There'll be lots of time for that
another day.  Assuming..."

   I was pretty sure what he meant.

   I was willing to make that assumption.

   Oh, yes.

   "When, Gideon?" I asked.

   He thought for a long while before handing me my phone.

   "When you are willing to share those photos, Zoe."

   In response, I leaned my head on his shoulder.  It was enough.



   Zoe, Again

   "How's your cappuccino?" Claire asked.

   I'd been miles away.  Startled, I raised my head, tried to smile.

   "Um, good.  Good, thanks."

   I found Claire somewhat intimidating at the best of times.

   "Gideon said you would have the photos for us," she said.

   "Us?" I was a little shocked at the implications.

   Back up...

   After years of contemplating my exhibitionist tendencies, I'd only
recently dared to dip my toe into the water, so to speak.

   Gathering all my courage, I'd tied myself into a shibari harness,
leaving my arms and legs free.  Over it I wore a casual but dressy skirt
and blouse.

   And under it a vibrator.

   The idea had been for me to take a tram well away from my flat, get off
and walk back - without having an orgasm in public.

   I still think I might have made it.

   I'd also resolved to stop for a coffee on Collins Street, just to
prolong things.  Sitting there, squirming slightly as the vibrator spun up
and down within me, I'd been noticed by Claire and Gideon.  She had noticed
that I was wearing something unusual under my blouse, but it had been
Gideon who had recognized me for what I was.

   Dismissing her politely, Gideon had taken me to his nearby flat.  While
remaining fully dressed himself, he'd guided and directed me through my
first real sexual experience - undressing in front of him to expose the
rope harness and then slowly masturbating myself until, after much delay,
he'd given his permission for my orgasm.  All the while, he'd taken endless
photos and videos of me on my own phone.

   Throughout the experience, he had directed me, controlled me, encouraged
me.  He'd been exactly what I'd dreamed of all my adult life - a strong,
commanding and yet compassionate man to instruct and compel and use me.

   It had been the best day of my life.

   He'd also let me know that the only way for us to go any further was for
me to trust him with the photos and videos now on my phone.

   Yesterday, I'd texted him to say Yes.

   But instead of Gideon waiting for me at the coffee shop as I had
expected, it had been Claire.

   She was sitting at the same table where I had first met them, wearing a
long, sleeveless white lace dress with a plunging neckline.  On her feet,
were a pair of t-strap sandals; I didn't recognize the brand, but wished I
could, if only to be properly jealous.  Her only jewelry was her heavy gold
linked necklace and an elegant gold wristwatch.  Her makeup was, as before,
perfect.

   She was utterly beautiful, the embodiment of femininity.  To my eyes,
she seemed entirely confident.

   I realized how outclassed I was by this woman.  I wilted, just a little,
before taking a deep breath in an attempt to regain my nerve.

   Looking around, I saw the two of us in a nearby mirror.

   Beside the reflection of the tall, black-haired beauty, I saw my smaller
figure, my blonde hair in a rough bob cut.

   Intellectually, I knew that I was attractive, that my figure drew
admiring looks from the boys, but looking at us in the mirror, I felt
entirely second-best.

   I was pretty; Claire was gorgeous.  I had a nice figure; hers was
stellar.  She had poise, confidence - charisma if it came to that.  I was
struggling with every insecurity in the book.

   And - and - she was Gideon's friend, quite probably a great deal more
than that.

   In short, Claire had womanly power; all I had were girlish hopes.

   It was those hopes which had led me to again show up wearing Gran's
triskelion necklace, the one I'd worn when I first met Claire and Gideon.
I'd known its BDSM connotation from the first, but it had taken Gideon a
lot of effort to get me to acknowledge that link when first we'd met.

   Today, thinking I'd meet Gideon again, not only was I wearing the
necklace, but I'd again left both knickers and bra in the drawer.  Unlike
my first excursion however, I had today dared to wear a simple white
blouse. That decision had met with Inner Zoe's unqualified support.  I
figured that I would be fine unless we got hit with an unseasonal rain
shower.

   Turning away from the mirror, I looked down towards my knees before
realizing to my shock that I was backlighted by the sun shining in through
the window of the cafe.  My breasts were clearly visible through the thin
cotton.

   I turned scarlet.  I was prepared for almost anything, but not such an
open display of...  what?

   Wasn't my intent to risk detection, to take it to the limit?  But now
I'd been detected.

   Again.

   At that realization, Inner Zoe began laughing her head off.

   "They're very nice, Zoe," Claire said softly.  Damn it, could she read
my mind?

   Despite my embarrassment, for I was for some reason reassured.  It would
have been so very easy for her to have humiliated me.

   Without responding, I reached into my purse and pulled out a flash
drive, pushed it across the table.  She picked it up without examining it
and put it into her own bag, rose to depart.

   "He'll be in touch, dear."

   "Um, OK?"

   She rose, started to leave, but stopped when I spoke her name. 
"Claire?"

   "Yes?" Armoured in her imperiousness, she said it without turning back,
as if it - and I - didn't matter.

   "You can tell Gideon I've got my implant."

   At that, she turned to look at me.

   "Implant?  Birth control?"

   "Yes."

   Her face was impassive.  Had I pleased her or annoyed her?  Worse, did
she now see me as a rival?  I didn't know.

   She looked at me, her face expressionless behind her large, round
sunnies.  It occurred to me that I had no idea what colour her eyes
actually were.

   "Don't hurt him, Zoe," she said very softly, her face impassive.  "I
mean that.  Don't you ever hurt him.  If you do, I'll find you even if you
hide in the back of beyond."

   With that, she wheeled and left, her superb behind swaying from side to
side.

   I was stunned.  First off, there was a very, very real menace in her
statement and I realized that I did not want her as an enemy.  I decided
that I needed to woo Claire, to make her like me, or, at the least, accept
me.

   Oddly, I also sensed fear - or, at the very least, concern - in her
voice.  This from a woman who on the surface appeared to be completely
self-confident, possessed of everything any girl could wish.  And, very
curiously, it was concern for Gideon, the man who had to me seemed so
powerful, so full of strength!  How very peculiar.

   There was obviously much I had to learn about both Gideon and about
Claire.

   +

   "Hello, Zoe," said her voice on the phone.  "Gideon asked me to call. 
He's having a small party Friday next and wonders if you could make it."

   "What sort of party?" I asked.  (Not that it would make any difference.
If Gideon asked, I would be there.)

   "A casual dinner party.  Quite intimate.  Don't bother dressing formally
or anything."

   "Oh.  Oh, yes, I'd love to!"

   "Good!  Gideon said to indulge your fancies."

   Now that put things in a different light entirely.  Gideon - and by now
Claire - knew precisely what sort of 'fancies' on my part had first brought
us together.  While not a blatant invitation to get kinky, it was at least
an invitation and quite possibly a strong hint.

   "I'll be there," I said, firmly.  "What may I bring?"

   "Just you." With that, she hung up.

   I thought of how her voice had sounded.  Was she upset?  If so, was she
upset at me for Gideon's interest?  Was she irritated at Gideon for having
her relay his invitation?  Or upset at both of us for that afternoon in his
flat?  I couldn't decide and it bothered me.

   In reality, I didn't know that much about Gideon and Claire.  I thought
Claire had implied the party was to be...  quirky.

   But was it really?  What if I was wrong and showed up in some form of
sexy costume when everybody else was not?  or what if I arrived in a party
dress and everybody else was...?

   I felt lost.  Was this a test of some sort?  A challenge?  Or even a
teaching point, something one or both of them wanted me to learn from,
possibly by making mistakes, maybe even embarrassing ones?

   I thought of calling her back, but decided against it.  I didn't want to
appear too naïve and, if it was a test, I'd have blown it right there.

   Well, what did I want?

   For once, Inner Zoe and I were in full agreement.  I knew that I wanted
Gideon - on whatever terms he offered.  I had never felt so fulfilled as
during that time in his flat.  I had never felt so much a woman, so ready
to offer myself, so eager to be accepted.

   But where to go from that?  I was uncertain, confused.

   In the end, I decided to go back to what had brought us together in the
first place.

   Less the vibrator.

   I decided not to use rope this time.  Rather, I could get 'dressy' under
my clothes with something both more and less traditional.  If the party was
'conventional', it could stay hidden.  If not...

   After a lot of really fun research on the net, I decided on fine
gold-coloured chains.  I'd done a basic jewellery-making hobby course when
I'd first arrived in Melbourne and knew a gem store where I could get
everything but a couple of key items.  Those last I knew I could find at
Kay's, the upscale sex shop where I'd bought the shibari cords for my first
big adventure.

   I was excited - turned on - throughout my shopping trip.  I could feel
sexual tension throughout my body.  I was darned near ready to explode by
the time I got home.

   I ran my fingers under the hem of my panties, then stopped.  I found
that I liked being on the edge and, if - as I hoped - the party would be my
Big Day, then I wanted to not lose it.  I wanted to walk in there tingling,
so to speak.  Silly, perhaps, but that was the plan.

   I'd settled on a two-piece design, like a bikini - much skimpier, of
course.

   The bottom had one length of chain running around my waist like a belt,
falling down in front and held together by a gold-coloured triskelion about
the size of a dollar coin over my mound.  From there, two more chains
passed between my legs, one on either side of my labia, and ran up between
my cheeks to join the waist chain at the small of my back.

   The top part had a simple two-strand necklace descending to my
breastbone, from which hung a matching triskelion.  From that, two more
double loops of chain fell almost to my navel before rising back up to my
breasts, where they were anchored off a pair of simple elastic nipple
loops.

   I confess that it was hard to keep my hands off myself while I was
working on them.  Knowing what they were intended for was exciting and my
mind kept drifting to various fantasies - hopes?  - of what would be
happening at Gideon's flat.

   When I eventually finished them, I slipped both pieces on and examined
myself in the mirror.

   It all lay flat enough to be essentially invisible under clothing.

   Minus the clothing, it was not so much a costume as it was gift wrap - a
screaming exhortation to jump me.

   Inner Zoe screamed her approval.  Someday, I thought, it would be real
gold.  Just you wait, world!

   I had a little black party dress which would show off the top medallion
well and a pretty good pair of black heels.  With that, I was satisfied -
and very, very eager.

   Truth be told, I was also a bit frightened.  This might be my 'coming
out' party, so to speak, my chance to actually gain entry into Gideon's
world, or at least what I imagined his world would be.

   Before my walk that day, I'd dreamed of somebody like him.  My time in
his flat had been a dream come true, even if he'd grown a conscience and
refused to take me to his bed.

   I'd so wanted that.  The feeling of rejection still lingered, a fear
that I just wasn't pretty enough, interesting enough to please him.

   The day of the party, I took the afternoon off.

   I took a long shower, waxed, did my hair and got meticulous about my
makeup.  I wasn't normally a big-makeup kind of girl, but this evening
probably warranted it.  I nibbled on some dates and tried to compose
myself.

   Eventually, time passing, I put on the chain outfit.  Turning again in
front of the mirror, I felt myself again becoming more than just a little
excited.  Before that cafÃ(C), I'd never met a boy I'd cared to lose my
virginity to.  Within an hour of meeting Gideon, I was ready.

   And he'd turned me down.  He was being responsible, fair, but it still
had stung.

   But tonight, I had my hopes.  I felt like Jacqueline's Natalie - totally
inexperienced but completely willing, utterly ready.  This was, I hoped,
Zoe's Day.

   The bob cut made my hair look super-sophisticated and was easy to bring
back with but a few minutes in front of a mirror.  I didn't need Inner
Zoe's cheering to tell me I looked good.

   I pulled the black dress over my arms and wiggled it into place before
doing up the row of buttons in the front.  It took me a minute of
experimenting to decide whether I should button it low enough to show some
good cleavage (and the chains below the triskelion) or do up one more
button and just show the medallion itself.  In the end, I decided to let
the medallion talk for my boobs and left the button done up.

   I ran my hands down over the dress to smooth it out and spun again in
front of the mirror.  Perfect - sleek as a seal, girl!

   I put a minimal purse together, slipped into my heels, picked up the
bottle of wine I'd put by the door and left.  Even though movement of the
harness was somewhat inhibited by the fabric of my dress, I could feel it
pulling on my nipples as my unconstrained breasts moved with each step.

   I liked the feeling.

   20 minutes later, the tram dropped me a block from Gideon's flat.

   I buzzed his door from the street.  In seconds, I heard the sound of the
latch admitting me to the building.  Taking a deep breath, I made my way up
the marble stairs to the first floor.

   As I walked up, I listened for music, conversation - any indication of
the party having started.  More uncertain than ever, I began worrying about
being the first to arrive, of being seen as too eager.

   It was dead quiet on the stairs.  There was not a sound.

   Had I got the time wrong?  Maybe even the date?  I didn't think I had. I
kept walking.

   When I knocked, Claire opened the door.

   I clearly hadn't needed to worry about being overexposed, for Claire's
outfit consisted of her gold necklace, heels and a peignoir so sheer that
the floor-length garment could have been stuffed into a teacup.  No more
substantial than a morning mist enveloping her body, it was both less and
much, much more than plain nudity.

   I could see that each of Claire's small nipples was pierced with a tiny
gold barbell, clearly visible through the diaphanous fabric.  The ends
matched the links in her necklace; their gold colour contrasted perfectly
with the skin beneath them.

   And perfume.  Too much of the perfume sold these days is so bold as to
be almost tyrannical.  This was subtle, but mind-consuming in its richness.
It didn't fight her looks for my attention, it complimented them, amplified
them.

   My eyes must have bulged a little, for she smiled.  This smile however
was gracious and warm and made it clear that I was indeed welcome.  It also
confirmed that Claire was totally confident with her body image, in her
near-nudity.

   I so wanted to be Claire.

   I felt my body shivering and not from cold.  Although I'd never walked
that side of the street, I suddenly realize that if I couldn't have Claire
as my friend, I might not mind having her as my lover.

   She pretended to ignore my expression and called, "Gideon!  Look who's
here!" Why she had to raise her voice I didn't know, for there seemed to be
only the three of us there.

   Gideon was a slender man, with just a bit of grey showing in his dark
hair and short, well-trimmed beard.  Right then, he was across the flat, in
the kitchen taking up one corner of the large room.  Being thus greeted by
Claire, I was somewhat disappointed to see him dressed in a casual set of
daks and a white shirt buttoned about half-way up.

   I wasn't sure what exactly I'd been hoping for, of course.  My daydreams
hadn't been that specific.

   He waved casually at me, smiling brightly before returning to his
cooking.  "Get her a drink!" was all that he said.

   I looked around.  It was clear that there were only the three of us in
the flat.

   "Am I early?" I asked Claire.

   She gave a low giggle.  "No, but I did say it was to be a small party."

   At that moment, I noticed a table set with, yes, just three places.

   "Oh."

   This wasn't turning out anything how I had thought it would.  On the
other hand, my fears about my lack of social graces and inexpereience in
front of Gideon's friends would be easier to keep on a leash this way.

   In short order, Claire had put a drink into my hands.  I took it
gratefully.

   A moment later, Gideon put a lid on a pot and came over to give me a
hug, which grew into a three-way hug when Claire joined in.  I wasn't sure
whose hand it was that cuddled my bum, but knew that I liked it either way.

   Breaking the hug, Gideon motioning Claire and I towards a nearby couch.
Waiting for us both to be seated, he sat on a matching overstuffed chair
opposite.

   Between us was the leather-covered ottoman on which Gideon had
positioned me for my first display.  I felt my mouth go dry at the memory.

   "Thank you for coming, Zoe," Gideon said, raising his glass in a toast.

   "I wouldn't have missed it for anything," I replied, "but I thought
there would be more people."

   "Three's enough," he smiled.

   Putting down his drink, he reached behind his chair and produced a
rectangular object wrapped in a heavy brown paper and sealed with plain
sticky tape.  He passed it to me.  "A memory," was all he said.

   Curious, I weighed it in my hands.  It was not overly heavy.  Perhaps
18" long, it felt like a framed photo of some sort.

   He and Claire both looked at me with an encouraging look on their faces.
I opened it to find a neatly-framed photo of me, taken by Gideon in this
very room.  I was kneeling on the ottoman, my knees apart, my hands behind
my neck.  The shibari cords had just been removed, but their marks could
still be clearly seen in my flesh.  My eyes were open, bold, almost wanton.

   I looked amazing.

   More than I could have thought possible.  Gideon had captured precisely
how I had imagined myself.  Looking at the photo, I remembered perfectly
how it had felt - the incredible arousal, the longing, the hope, the
thrill, the soul-twisting satisfaction.  I hadn't thought that I could
possibly look that sexy, that desirable.  My doubts about myself ebbed,
just a little.

   I looked up to see both of them beaming at me.

   "Thank you," I said softly.  I was amazed, pleased and very, very
touched.

   Claire leaned in and kissed me, chastely, on my lips.  My heart soared -
did this mean she viewed me as a friend?

   "We looked through all of them and I was certain that this was the best
one," she said.

   That statement gave me another clue as to their relationship, I
realized.

   Standing up, her gaze turned to Gideon.

   "Gideon," she said to him, "I get the feeling that both you and Zoe need
to shed some clothes.  I'm pretty sure she has something special underneath
- look at her necklace."

   Gideon looked at it and me.  One eyebrow went up in curiosity.

   Claire gave a small smile, "I told her we didn't dress for dinner."

   I looked from one to the other.

   He smiled back in obvious pleasure.  At that, I felt something begin to
grow within me, something I wasn't sure of - something uncertain, something
curious, something daring - maybe all three at once.

   "Indeed we do not," he siad.  "Zoe, would you mind if I got 'more
comfortable'?"

   I shook my head.

   With that, while Gideon didn't move, Claire got up from beside me and,
kneeling gracefully before him, began unbuttoning his shirt.  Gideon's grey
eyes were riveted to mine - waiting to see my reaction, perhaps?

   What he had to have seen was anticipation, delight, curiosity - all
good, from my point of view.

   Claire tugged his shirt tails out of his Daks, unbuttoned the last
button and pushed the garment off his shoulders and down his arms.  Rising,
she took the shirt, folded it neatly and placed it down beside him.

   Wordlessly, the man rose to his feet.  Claire unbuckled his belt, undid
the button and the trousers slid down his legs to the floor.  He lifted one
leg and then the other; Claire retrieved and then folded them, placed them
on top of his shirt.

   Underneath, Gideon was wearing white mesh briefs.  The fabric wasn't far
off being transparent.  His tackle was clearly visible through the mesh
fabric; both his flacid length and the balls looming behind it might as
well have been in fishnet.  Although I had seen lots of pictures and
videos, these were the first I had ever seen in real life.

   Gideon, while slender, was anything but skinny.  It was obvious that he
worked out regularly and while not beefy and bulging, his muscles were
certainly well-defined.  Such body body hair as he had was curly, dark.

   He seemed to me to be the epitome of masculinity.  I found him deeply,
endlessly desirable and I felt my breath catch as I looked at him.

   He and Claire both smiled.  They obviously knew what was going through
my mind.

   Saying not a word as he gazed at me, he merely raised that eyebrow again
in inquiry.  Given my lack of experience, he obviously knew that this was
not the time for commands.

   "If you wish," Claire said in an encouraging voice.

   I wished.

   I had been wishing this for a long time.  I just hadn't known how to
define it.

   "May I help?" she added.

   Much as I wanted more of both of them, right then it seemed important
that it be his hands, not hers, first touching me.

   "I've got it, thanks."

   I stood up and unbuttoned the dress.  I shivered my shoulders just
slightly and the black fabric flowed down over my body to gather around my
feet , exposing the harness on my body.

   I squatted down to pick up the dress.  Folding it, I dropped it on the
sofa beside me and, heart on overdrive, stood up for their inspection.  I
looked at the two of them and was very pleased to see wide-eyed, open
approval on both faces.

   Gideon's eyes lingered on my body, ran slowly up from ankles to face,
then back again.

   "Turn around," he said and I spun slowly for his inspection.

   His hands came together in soft but emotive applause.  "Nice," he said.
"Very nice!"

   Claire on the other hand simply stood, stepped over to me, leaned down
and drew my lips against hers in a soft but ardent kiss.  Her tongue traced
my inner lips, swept along my teeth.  When she pulled away, her eyes were
shining.  She ran her fingers along the links, slowly.  I could feel one
tiny link after another pass under her touch and felt the sensation all the
way down to my toes.

   For some reason, I no longer minded her being first.

   Dinner - as much of it as I can remember it - was grilled prawns with
lemon and garlic.  They were outstanding, wonderfully complimented by white
wine and a green salad.  Gideon, for it had been his work, was an admirable
cook.

   In one sense, it was a simple yet proper meal served by an welcoming
couple to a new friend.  On the other, even Inner Zoe was silenced in her
awe at the profundity of its sexual nature.

   I could look through the glass of the round table top and see both his
mesh-enclosed manbits and her shaven sex.  I enjoyed the view and relished
the thought that they were both getting an equivalent view of me.

   I'd not pictured my night going this way, but was thrilled in every way.
I felt the chains between my legs rub gently on my labia as I leaned over
to pass the wine to Gideon, felt the overhead fan's gentle breeze on my
excited nipples.

   It was so very, very odd, I thought.  Here I was, stark naked, in the
midst of that most pedestrian activity - eating dinner.  Was this how it
was supposed to be?  I was uncertain, but definitely approved.

   I found myself both grateful and a bit awed that this amazing couple had
been so generous, so accepting, to include me in this.

   Dinner ended simply, with Claire merely rising to take the dishes to the
kitchen and stacking them in the sink.

   As she did so, Gideon leaned back with a smile, openly admiring my
breasts over the table.  In another situation, I would have been
embarrassed or angry.  Tonight, I was delighted and leaned back just
slightly to better emphasize them.

   "I'm so very glad you decided to come tonight," he said as Claire
returned.  "May we show you something now?"

   I nodded.  What I wanted more than anything was to be shown the path to
womanhood, but I had, frankly, fallen in love with Claire as much as with
Gideon.  She was everything I wanted to be.  I ached with desire for them
both.  One, or the other or both - I wanted...

   No - needed.  'Want' was last year.

   It was Claire who took my hand and led me to the second door, beside the
open one to the bedroom.  Gideon followed.  At the door, he took my other
hand, leaned in and offered his lips to me for a kiss.  How could I refuse?
My head swam as our lips met; I felt Claire's hand clutch mine in
encouragement as his whiskers brushed my chin.

   Breaking the kiss, Gideon pushed open the door.  I felt my breath catch
as I saw what was inside.

   I was not really surprised to find that it was a dungeon, but there was
definitely nothing the slightest bit medieval about it.

   The room itself was modern and quite large, easily as roomy as Gideon's
substantial living room.  The furniture it held was widely-spaced, giving
an open and, paradoxically, almost welcoming impression.  Here and there
were overstuffed chairs.  A large television hung on one wall.  A series of
wooden cabinets ran along the wall opposite.

   Immaculately clean, it was decorated in light browns with a tan carpet
and taupe-painted walls.  An array of pot lights provided excellent
illumination without being overly bright.

   Were it not for the blatantly sexual nature of the setup, it might have
been a high-end art gallery waiting for potential patrons to admire the
works on display.

   Heavy tracks on the ceiling supported pulleys, anchor points and
eyebolts.  There was a large bed in one corner - a four-poster with a
tasteful bedspread, no less.  A five-pointed star made of heavy timber and
easily seven feet tall leaned against one wall.  Assorted pieces of wood
and metal furniture filled the room.  I knew what many of them were and
could guess at some of the rest, but was unsure what they were all called.
I felt myself tingle as I looked at the display and considered the promise
it offered for my education.

   I'd been excited before Gideon had opened the door, but as I took in the
display I felt myself becoming so much more so.

   There were two or three smallish windows up high on one wall.  There was
nothing to be seen beyond them.  Scattered between the windows, higher up
than pictures would normally be displayed, hung a line of framed
photographs - photographs of both men and women.

   All were nicely framed and of professional or near-professional quality.
While all involved nudity and sexuality, none had that creepy, greasy air
which characterizes so much porn.  These were done with talent, respect,
almost with love.

   The photo closest to the door was of a woman walking through a forest,
ferns around her feet and knees.  She was dressed in an ankle-length cloak
with the hood up over her head.  While the rest of the photo was in black
and white, the cloak was a bold scarlet, its fiery folds falling in
plunging waves to her feet.

   The front of the cloak was open, exposing the magnificent naked form
within.  The lighting however was from overhead and the woman's face and
much of her body were invisible in shadow.  Indeed, what could mostly be
seen were her heavy breasts, the top of one thigh and, somewhat more dimly,
her stomach and one hip.

   One bare foot was pushed forward by her stride.  Around the ankle was
buckled a sturdy yet elegant leather cuff, a heavy metal ring on its side.

   The photo next to it was of Claire.  She was lying back in an armchair
and wearing nothing but a most elegant underbust corset with lace trim. 
Her dark hair flowed over her shoulders.

   Her posture and expression were very calm, almost tranquil.  An empty
champagne flute was held loosely in her right hand.  She was looking away
from the camera, off to one side.  While relaxed, her expression was
attentive, strong.  She seemed utterly content, utterly confident in her
sex.

   Her feet were propped up on an ottoman in front of her, showing off her
long legs to advantage.  The angle was such that it was impossible to tell
whether or not she was wearing knickers.  Her breasts on the other hand
were bare and I felt a pang of jealousy at their perfection.

   If one discounted her costume, it was an utterly casual, innocent pose,
as if she had been caught watching television on a slow night.  I found
myself becoming as envious of Claire's poise as I had been of her boobs. 
Then I noticed something else and became even more fascinated.

   A chromed curb-link chain wrapped twice around one ankle then pooled on
top of the ottoman before leading off-screen.  The chain was not obvious;
indeed, it was almost hidden by Claire's other ankle and its shadow.  Once
noticed however, one's eyes were drawn to it over and over.  I couldn't
decide whether it had been an actual tether or whether it had just been
draped over her ankle as a prop.  In either case, it was remarkable, doubly
so given her serene expression.

   The image had that extraordinary mix of controlled elegance and casual
carnality which I was learning exemplified Claire's daily life.  Her
expression was one of cool indifference, yet there was also an air of
innocence, almost of vulnerability, which I found hard to understand.

   "They're amazing!" I breathed, not daring to pull my eyes away from the
images.  I was afraid they would see my blush of excitement.

   "Thank you," they said, almost in unison.

   "Who took the photos?" I asked.

   "Gideon," Claire said.

   I motioned with my hand towards the other photos.  "May I?"

   "Of course."

   Ignoring the furniture, equipment and trappings around me, I walked
along the wall with my head up, inspecting the dozen or so other
photographs.

   The third photo had been taken in front of a pair of very tall wooden
doors, something one might expect in a fairy-tale palace.

   A woman, wearing but a dark thong or G-string, was standing in the door.
Her arms and legs were spread-eagled across the doorway, tethered with
thumb-thick ropes.  Gideon, dressed in a tuxedo with a rose at his lapel,
stood half in front of her, holding her waist and molding her body to his.
His head was lowered towards her as if for a kiss.

   The doors behind her were slightly ajar and beyond them could be seen a
dining room with table set and candles lit for a very formal dinner.  I got
the impression that the woman would soon either be released to join the
meal - no doubt dressed as she was - or else would be left standing there,
displayed for the visual gratification of the unseen diners when they
arrived.

   Another image featured a nude woman standing in front of a set of filmy
curtains.

   The light from outside was very bright and had silhouetted the woman's
figure.  Her breasts were generous and the one nipple which could be seen
was erect.  Her arms were held up, crossed above her head, by a chain
leading up and out of sight towards the ceiling.  Her head was raised just
slightly and I could see that her hair reached almost to her waist.

   I found myself becoming more and more stirred by the photos.  Clearly
Gideon was an expert with a camera and possessed of magnificent and
imaginative vision.  The photos were wonderfully artistic, with their
eroticism more presented for thoughtful consideration than flung in the
viewer's face.

   Behind me as I walked, Gideon and Claire were silent.  I turned around
once to find their arms around each other's waists.  If it wasn't love for
each other on their faces, it was at the least deep affection and I envied
them for it.

   The couple in the next photo were unknown to me.  A naked man was bent
backwards over a waist-high padded bench, his limbs pulled back and down,
tethered to its base with elaborate ropework.  Between his legs knelt a
young - very young - woman.

   As petite as the man was muscular, her dark, dishevelled hair barely
reached her shoulders.  While clearly nude, only one breast could be seen,
just peaking over one of his thighs.

   The man on the other hand was completely exposed, his erection massive,
the rim of its swollen head almost sharp with pressure.  The girl's pale
hand was wrapped around it, her thumb pressing under the crown.

   The expression on her face was one of calm attention to the task before
her; that on his face was the torment of lust too long denied.

   Another - merely the naked back of a standing woman, from shoulder
blades to upper thighs.  Chromed handcuffs encircled her wrists and biceps,
chromed chains connected the manacles and hung down off the bottom of the
photograph.  Her bum was flawless.

   A side shot of a slender young woman with very long, very pale hair
squatting on her heels, a look of both surprise and puzzlement on her face
as she faced the camera.  The polished floor below her was very shiny and
one could see an almost perfect reflection of her feet and high heeled
shoes.  Her arms were resting on her knees and from one hand hung a white
egret plume.

   Next, a table-sized flat rock, half-submerged in the middle of a pond.
Ripples flowed out from the rock through beds of reeds to the shore in the
distance.  On the rock lay a nude woman, her light hair coiled behind her
head.  She was resting up on one elbow, looking down along her long legs to
feet partly submerged in the clear water.  Her expression was calm, but
rather pensive.

   From out of the water emerged a chain, each massive link the size of a
large man's hand.  The woman's hand was resting inside the last link.  It
was clear that she could have easily removed her hand should she had so
wished, but some reason had chosen not to.  Her free hand resting on her
hip held a long-stemmed rose, its blossoms almost but not quite lying
between her breasts.

   There was a headshot of an unshaven, unspeakably handsome youth wearing
a leather blindfold.  A slim female hand was about to present a shapely
breast to his lips.

   Beside them in the next frame was a woman in a round-necked white dress
with wide, flowing sleeves.  The dress was long enough that her bare toes
could just be seen.  A broad leather collar encircled her neck.  Her arms
were outstretched and back, her bosom pushed forward.  The fabric was thin
enough that her dark nipples showed clearly.  One hand rested on the hilt
of an elaborate longsword, its blade protruding from a large rock by her
feet.  A slight smile, perhaps one of resolution or devotion to a cause,
was on her lips.

   I was amazed by the precision of Gideon's work.  Each piece was perfect
- perfectly envisioned, perfectly executed, perfectly erotic.  Yet, while
all were highly sensual, none of them were smutty.  This was art in the
finest sense of the word.

   I was awed.  It was as if Gideon had created this miniature gallery just
for me, in anticipation of my coming.

   I realized that I wanted to be the girl in each of those pictures.  It
was what I had dreamed of my whole life without knowing it.  Had Gideon
known?  Was I that transparent?

   Then I noticed that there was an empty space on the wall, the right size
for the photo they had just given me.  I also realized that the frame of my
photo was identical to those hanging on the wall.

   Was this an invitation?

   I turned to the two of them.  "You're missing one, aren't you?"

   Claire looked up at Gideon.  He nodded, as if in response to a silent
question.

   The two stepped closer to me, within touching distance.

   He smiled.  "That depends.  Let's think on it, Zoe.  For right now, what
would you like?"

   That was the elephant in the room.  He knew what I wanted and it was
certain that Claire knew as well.  The costumes they had chosen for dinner
with me were utterly explicit and mine, I thought, made my own desires and
inclinations very clear.  But did I dare?

   My eyes slid from his face to Claire's.  I wasn't sure what I would find
there.  To my relief - surprise?  wonder?  - there was a gentle smile on
her face.  My breath caught at the warmth of that obvious permission.

   Claire took my hand and placed it in Gideon's before clasping them
together.  "I think that that's what you want, isn't it, Zoe?" She leaned
over and kissed first me and then Gideon before stepping back.

   The look in his eyes was one of total love.  It was love for Claire, I
knew that, but I wasn't going to let this opportunity slide.

   I smiled at her in gratitude and squeezed Gideon's hand.  Turning away
from her, I faced him.  This was no time for virginal modesty, not with
this couple, not here, not now.

   With my free hand, I reached down and with one gentle finger stroked the
length of his organ inside its mesh container.  It responded by noticeably
growing.

   "This," I said.  "I want this, Gideon.  I want you."

   He smiled at me.  His hands came up to cradle my head and he drew me in,
his lips waiting for mine.  I met him, tongue exploring for his.

   I could feel that kiss all the way down to my toes.  I could feel a bolt
of arousal shoot through me like fire, inflaming every bit.

   Gideon's hands moved from my hips, up my waist and onto my breasts, ran
lightly over my skin, played with the chains.  His hands seemed to have
been created to provide me intense stimulation, perfect pleasure.  Despite
inept fumbling by early boyfriends - or more probably because of it - I had
never imagined how wonderful it would be to have my breasts properly
attended to.  My nipples were applauding.

   His strong thumbs flipped the elastic loops off them and the chains fell
to below my waist.  Free of the chains, his fingers played with my
welcoming orbs while his thumbs rolled my nipples.  I shuddered at the
feeling grew.  My kisses grew more demanding, more insistent.

   Please, sir, I want some more!

   I began running my hands up and down his torso.  I grasped his bum to
pull him in towards me and felt a growing bulge in his briefs against my
stomach.

   "I want to see it!" I told him and, wriggling out of his grasp, dropped
to my knees in front of him.  I ran hands across the taut fabric, thrilled
to witness Gideon's obvious reaction to my efforts.  Sticking my thumbs in
his waist-band, I tugged the briefs down, letting them fall to his ankles
and giving me my first real-life view of a man.

   OK, I might have been virginal, but that wasn't the same thing as
entirely innocent.  This was after all the age of the internet and I'd
studied.

   But Cosmo articles and porn videos were one thing.  This was another,
the real deal.  I closed my eyes, inhaled.

   With that, I could smell him.  It was more than just a scent of
aftershave or soap.  An indefinable masculine odour filled my nostrils.

   Opening my eyes, his tip was just inches from my face.  The first thing
I noticed was the slit at its very end.  Entranced, I lifted one hand and
ran a fingertip over his crown.

   It bounced, twitched under my finger.  I giggled and was surprised to
hear my laughter echoed by Claire.

   Turning my head, I saw her sitting just a few metres away on a
low-backed chair beside the canopied bed.  Her legs were spread and her
fingers covering her sex.  Her eyes were fixed on Gideon and I.

   "It's cute, isn't it?" she asked, one finger moving slowly between
flawless thighs.

   I turned from her, back to Gideon.  I reached out and grasped it, almost
apprehensively, by the shaft.  I raised my head, looked up to see him
smiling down at me.

   "That's it," he said softly.  "It won't bite."

   I was in my innocence surprised at how warm it was, how soft and yet so
hard underneath.

   I gave Gideon a tentative smile, then, stretching out my tongue, I ran
its tip over the slit.  There was not much taste, but his shaft twitched
under my hand.  I giggled to myself, gave a broad lick, starting at its
base and running up to its head.

   "Oh, yes!" came his voice.  Encouraged, I repeated it, then again.  Its
head swelled in front of my eyes.  I leaned forward and took it in my
mouth, leaned forward until it was almost touching my throat.  Holding his
balls in one hand and pumping the loose skin of his shaft with my other, I
sucked in and began to bob my head back and forth.

   After a few strokes, I pulled off him and looked up.

   "How's that?" I asked.

   "Wonderful," Gideon replied.  "Don't stop."

   I returned to my task.  From beside me, I heard Claire's gentle
encouragement.  "Don't be afraid, Zoe.  He likes a lot of tongue work,
dear."

   I stole a glance at her.  One hand was playing with the barbell in her
right nipple while two fingers from the other were deep inside her sex. 
Wide-eyed and breathing deeply, she was smiling broadly at the spectacle in
front of her.

   I began to speed up my attentions - faster, harder.  I wasn't entirely
prepared for what I figured would happen, but I was certainly eager to
experience it.

   Gideon sidetracked those thoughts when he pulled back, out of my mouth.
His hands lifted me to my feet.  He leaned down to kiss me and whatever
scraps of arousal had somehow missed me thundered in like an avalanche. 
His hands - so strong, so loving, so demanding - swept over my skin,
dragging chain links as they passed.  I wanted his hands on me everywhere,
forever.

   He bent down, swept me into his arms and carried me to the bed.  Laying
me down on it with my legs hanging off one side, he knelt between them
before lifting them up and onto his shoulders.

   His tongue ran slowly up the inside of one thigh.  My hands grabbed
handfuls of the bedspread, holding on as if I was afraid of falling off in
some bizarre gravity shift.  I rolled my head to one side to see Claire's
face, eyes closed, her breasts heaving.

   Gideon traced the length of my lower lips with his tongue tip, repeated
it again and again, shifting the chains of my costume out of the way as he
did so.  It felt electric, the sensations shooting the length and breadth
of my body.

   I pulled his head into me more firmly with both hands.  Hearing cries of
female arousal and opening my eyes, I could see that Claire was drifting
away in her own world of erotic pleasure.

   I tried to move my legs closer together, but his strong arms on my knees
kept my thighs well-spread, giving him better access as his lips gently
grasped and pulled on my labia.

   His thumbs began to enter my vag, first one, then both, stretching,
massaging.  My one-finger explorations had never gone this far; the feeling
was like nothing I had ever felt.  I was panting in my need.

   "Gideon..." was all I could say.  "Gideon..." Over and over.

   His head lifted off me as he stood up.  Strong arms came around my
waist, lifted me, turned me so that I was more fully on the bed.  I sensed
him kneeling between my legs and was thrilled to feel his masculine weight
lowering onto me.

   Strangely, he didn't feel heavy.

   "Zoe?" his voice said softly.

   Against my will, my eyes opened to see his face inches above mine,
gentle concern on his face.

   "I want you, Zoe.  I said so last time.  You can say No now." He paused.
"Or..."

   Even as aroused as he clearly was, he was still considerate, still
thinking of me.  I hoped, prayed, that if this developed further, he would
remain this thoughtful.  I desperately wanted to be taken, but knew I
needed a guide both firm and gentle.

   "Yes!" I whispered, then, finding my voice, repeated myself more loudly.
"Yes!"

   His only reply was to lean down to kiss me.

   His hips lifted a little and I felt his arm between us.  Then I felt a
strange-but-welcome sensation, a blunt probing of my labia, a search for
the opening they concealed.  Gideon lowered his head onto my shoulder.  His
arm came out from between us and his hips gave a gentle but firm push as,
for the first time in my life, I entered the timeless dance of love.

   Isn't this supposed to hurt?  flashed through my mind as he slid deeper
and deeper into me.  Then I remembered that I'd lost my hymen as a little
girl; there was no reason for pain.  Instead, it felt so amazing that I
began to weep tears of joy.

   They didn't last long.  His loving, patient foreplay had already left me
on the brink of orgasm.  As it grew closer and stronger, I lifted my legs
up around his waist and pulled him in deeper, trying to rock my hips to
match his rhythm.  My hands swept back and forth along his back, my cries
growing louder and louder.

   And, just like that, I had my first.

   I had thought I knew about orgasms.

   I hadn't.

   It flowed like liquid fire from breasts and belly.  It grew and grew,
matched only by my cries.  It was the most amazing, awesome feeling.

   Through it, Gideon continued to thrust into me.  Looking up, I could see
his eyes were closed, but there was a smile on his lips.  I pulled his head
down, ground my lips into his.

   And still my orgasm continued.

   Gideon paused, gave a low growl.  His body went rigid and I could feel
his cock pulsing within me.  My heart soared at the pleasure of having
pleased him - pleased him as a woman, for such I certainly was now.

   In a minute, Gideon lowered himself more onto me, panting deeply.  He
still didn't feel heavy.  I felt - I don't know - protected?  cherished? 
It felt good, in any case.

   Slowly coming down from my orgasm, I felt a hand in mine.  Turning my
head and opening my eyes, I could see Claire had stretched out her hand to
hold mine.  The flush on her face spoke clearly that she'd been there, too.
Her blue eyes gleamed with happiness and, I realized to my delight, with
welcome.

   There was a happy smile on her face as she looked at me.  Silently, she
blew me a kiss, squeezed my hand and then closed her eyes, relaxed, slept.

   My tears returned again, but gentle, happy.

   I fell asleep holding her hand, safe in Gideon's arms.

   Not, I smiled to myself as I drifted under, not for the last time.