Madame Jezie Beckett
Mistress of memories rekindled
When I got home from the cabin, I opened the door to a stack of bills, a FedEx envelope, and a large box from Sofia. I sighed and scooped them onto the table. The nonstop sex at the hideaway had drained and excited me. But a sense of dread overcame me and I wondered if I’d made a rash decision as the reality of my school deadlines hit me like a ton of bricks. The thesis draft and laptop were right where I’d left them in my rush to Sofia’s beautiful cunt.
God, how would I fit her high octane needs into the sparse pockets of time in my already packed schedule? And what’s more, did I really have what it took to dominate her?
Headline: Newbie dominatrix fucks up big time and hits the unemployment line!
I poured myself a drink and sank into a kitchen chair before peeling back the perforated top of the envelope. Inside was a check made out to JB Consulting for 5 grand.
“Madame Jezie Beckett,” I let the words roll off my tongue.
I stared at my phone.
How was I going to pull this off?
I snapped a pic of the check and deposited it into checking and transferred half to savings.
No turning back now.
I jumped as the phone buzzed in my hand with a blast from my past.
Having some Woodfords Reserve. Reminds me of you. Still living the dream?
I once thought Guillermo (Bill) Hernandez was the love of my life. Several years ago we’d shared a month-long whirlwind affair that ended with broken hearts and one hell of a crash-n-burn. Still, I thought of him fondly and often wondered how he was doing.
The last time I saw him was a sultry May evening spent sampling the best whiskey bars Portland had to offer, with an orgasm on the menu at each stop. It was his idea to see if he could make me cum at each bar without anyone noticing. I had definitely been up to the challenge.
I wore a flowing black silk skirt with a white button-up shirt; no panties. Even now, I shivered at the memory of the silk sliding over my thighs as we walked through the City of Roses.
