What’s Next?

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What’s Next? Three Months Ago Sarah quietly tiptoed into their bedroom, glad for once that Ashley could sleep through a nuclear war. She was late. Really late. She got caught up at work on a project and ended up in conference with some client reps in Geneva. It was their ‘morning’ and they couldn’t have cared less that it was her ‘night’ and far beyond normal business hours. Tonight was date night and they had had plans. She hang up her ‘power suit’ and put the black pumps with the 4” heels in their place in her side of the walk-in closet. She got three points for a swish as the blouse sailed into the laundry basket. The black thigh highs were next and then her bra and panties fluttered into the laundry basket. At least something’s going right tonight, Sarah thought to herself. Sarah quickly shower and took care of business and then turned out the light and crossed the bedroom and slipped into bed with a mixed groan and a sigh. ‘I’m getting too old for this shit.’ “Where have you been, Sarah? I called your office and some bitch covered for you and said you were in a meeting. The agency closes at 5:30. It was 9:45…is that what they call fucking the receptionist nowadays? ‘She’s in a meeting and can’t be disturbed?’ We had plans and you blew me off for what?” “I had to conference with the Swiss representatives from Horst Industries. It’s my deal and I’m the one who has to hold their hand and – “ “This isn’t working. All you do is work, work, work. You’re never home and when you are you’re in that damned office with the door closed. I know how important your job is to you. I do. But I want someone whose priorities include me somewhere near the top.” Sarah didn’t want to argue. For one thing, Ashley was right. Sarah was a workaholic. Her job was life. What little social life she had was almost always job-related somehow. She recognized it. Ashley was her attempt at dialing down the intensity a notch, letting someone in, trying to build a relationship outside of work. Ashley was a mistake and she knew it. The first weekend Sarah had to go to San Francisco to oversee the debut of a new advertising campaign and didn’t take her along – she whined like a mashed duck as only a 26-year old girl can do. Sarah should have dumped her then but had vowed to try and establish a relationship, something normal and something to look forward to. The sex was phenomenal. She was even more ‘depraved’ than Sarah. Everyone said they looked like the perfect couple. The age difference reared its ugly head from time to time but she ignored it. Ashley didn’t. Her friends called Sarah ‘Hugh Hefner’ behind her back. It hurt her feelings and Sarah made it worse by dismissing her friends as ‘losers and not worth your time, baby’. “Okay. When do you want to leave?” “Right this fucking minute.” She had planned everything in minute detail. Ashley threw off the sheet and sat up, a look of triumph on her face. She was fully dressed, including shoes. Her friends had been busy and all her ‘stuff’ was in boxes in one of her friends’ spare bedroom. “Sarah, I know you tried your best but it just wasn’t good enough. You’re like…old, and not even aware of what goes on in the world around you. If you don’t slow down and stop and smell the roses you’re gonna find yourself alone at the end of your life and nothing you’ve done or own is gonna fill the hole.” Present Day  The Estrus Dance Club Sarah’s Promotion Party “Congrats, Sarah. You’re at the top at last. No place to go but – “ “Finish that sentence, Leo, and you’ll be explaining to your girlfriend why she doesn’t need birth control pills any longer.” “I just meant that you’re at the top of your game – VP/Creative Director Kartal Escort – and no new challenges. What’s next?” That was the question she’d been asking herself since the CEO called her into his office earlier, told her to shut the door and sit down. What next? “I suppose you know why you’re here, don’t you?” Jeffrey Duncan was 60 and checking out vacation homes in the Hamptons and in Costa Rica. He was on his 3 rd , or was it 4th , marriage and was currently shopping for the next ex-wife. Apparently he bored easily. “No. I have a lot on my plate today so if you don’t mind, Jeff, cut to the chase.” I was just as tired as he was. The past year had been brutal but we’d managed to cut costs, increase revenues and even won an award or two along the way. Clients were lining up at the door and Jeff was thinking about retirement. “Right to the point. Okay, Morrison’s out. You’ve been carrying his water since you got here. You’re the new VP/Creative Director of Regulus Advertising. If you play your cards right, all this,” he said, waving his hand about, “will be yours when I retire. I’ve already talked the Board about it…it’s a done deal.” The music started again and she shook her head to clear her thoughts and was suddenly aware of a loud group of young women seated at a table and they were having a good old time and feeling no pain. Well, they were all young save one, an older woman with jet-black hair that hung loosely down her back. She caught Sarah’s gaze and lifted her glass of white wine in mock salute. She was probably mid-forties, a bit heavier than she preferred them, full breasted and wearing clothes she probably pulled off the rack at K-Mart. But then she smiled and none of that mattered. One of the girls she was with leaned over and said something to her and then followed her gaze and saw me. Shit. Her. Sarah had picked her up in this very bar shortly after Ashley had taken off and they’d had a very intense one-night stand that had lasted the weekend. Sarah thought she had unusual tastes but this girl was twisted.“Are you bored to tears, Mom? I warned you that we were going to let our hair down and be wild and reckless tonight.” Amy had not expected her 44-year old mother to take her up on her invitation to come and spend time with her friends at a blatantly lesbian dance club. You could have knocked her over with a breath when her mom said, “If you’re sure your friends won’t be too uncomfortable, yeah, I’d love to get out and drink some wine and see just how the other half lives.” “Mom?” Her mother wasn’t listening and appeared to be staring off into nowhere and she wondered if she was thinking about her divorce from her adopted dad. She lifted her glass as if completing a toast and Amy looked to see what she was looking at and gasped when she saw Sarah who was staring right back at her mother. “Oh, fuck no, Mom! She’s a predator and you’re so not her type, not to mention you’re straight as a ruler and that one’s…not.” “Amy, you told me I should get out, spread my wings and try new things. That woman is definitely something new.” “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Mom, you’re not even the least bit gay…” “Listen, you know nothing about those years before I met your father. For all you know…” Amy did know about those years. She knew what her mom had done to keep her and her brother together with a roof over their heads and food on the table before Joey had come along and swept her off her feet. She just didn’t want to think about it. Amy threw up her hands in disgust and turned back to her friends, sipping her drink and trying to ignore Sarah’s stare and feeling a little pissed that Kartal Escort Bayan it was her mother Sarah had been staring at – not her. Joan sighed, stood and grabbed her purse and drink and walked towards the tall blonde with the unsettling eyes. Her grandmother would have made some ancient signs and muttered that the woman was a witch (La Strega) and made the Sicilian ‘fist with thumb’ to ward off evil. She didn’t care if the woman was in league with the Devil or not. There was something about her that drew Joan to her. She stopped suddenly and gulped down the remainder of the white wine in her glass and closed the distance between them. “Hi. I’m Joan and Amy said you were great in bed and if you buy me another drink, we’ll see if she inherited her tastes from me or her father.” The blonde’s eyes widened and then she said the first thing that popped into her head and Joan knew that things were going to be very interesting. “You – you’re her mother?” She colored nicely and Joan laughed, something she hadn’t done much in the last few months. It sounded forced but at least it was honest. Joan held out her empty glass and waggled her waxed eyebrows and replied, “Yep, guilty as charged.” Sarah took the empty glass from Joan and when their fingers brushed she felt it all the way down to her core. Shaking off the shock, she turned and signaled the barman for another white wine. Joan eased up against the bar and turned around to survey the room. She felt at ease here. She felt anonymous. She felt good. It was no different than any other meat market bar in Pittsburgh – except that the meat was all female. “So, do you have a name? Amy didn’t give it. She just said that you were a predator of sorts. Upon what do you prey, pray thee tell me?” She pitched her already alto voice lower for the last sentence. She used the same voice when she’d ask about a john’s preferences back in the day. “What? I’m sorry I must have misunderstood you.” Joan smiled broadly to take the sting out of her question. Their eyes locked and Sarah felt a prickle of arousal at the tone and content of Joan’s question. “You know exactly what I said and asked. So, do you have a name or should I just call you ‘Predator’?” The barman returned with Joan’s wine and Sarah took the wine and said, “Put it on my tab, Bobby.” Bobby was the only male employee of The Estrus Dance Club and he doubled as bouncer should anyone show up to start trouble. “I’m Sarah, Sarah Carter. And I don’t ‘prey’ upon anyone. I just want what I want when I want it.” She took another sip of her Famous Grouse and savored the smoky bite of it. “I’m Joan Russo and I like a person who has goals and objectives and makes no bones about it.” Sarah was suddenly uneasy with the direction the conversation was headed. This wasn’t how things were supposed to work. She was supposed to drive the cart, direct the conversation in the direction she wanted it to go and this short woman wasn’t playing by the rules. This would never do. “And what are your objectives and goals, Joan?” There. Back in control again. “Short term? To finish this wine and then go home with you. Long term? To see which of us quits first.” Sarah was knocked off her stride again by the directness of Joan’s answer and the challenge she threw down. “Would you like to dance, Joan?” She needed time to center herself again. “No, Sarah, I don’t want to dance. I want to get naked and then see if Amy’s tastes are the same as mine.” She leaned in close to Sarah and her nostrils filled with the delicate scent of Sarah’s perfume. She finished her wine and leaned in closer still. “Now do you want to take me to your Escort Kartal place or not?” There was a frisson of longing in her voice and Sarah leaned down and whispered, “I never walk away from a challenge, Joan. Did you drive? You can follow me home and – “ “No, I came with the kiddies. Ready when you are, Sarah.” The ride to Sarah’s was done with little chitchat. Joan watched the scenery unfold and go from urban to suburban to open countryside. She didn’t seem at all concerned when Sarah turned the Lexis onto a dirt and gravel road that wound through old growth forest and swamps. Sarah reached into the console and removed an electronic device and keyed something and the gloom of darkness was lit up as tiny LED lights marked the road. “Nice. Takes the guessing out of driving.” It was the first thing she’d said in the 20-minute drive.Sarah was suddenly nervous. She’d never brought anyone home before. She’d just moved in and all her previous liaisons had been at her old apartment in Olde Towne. She bought the old house for peanuts knowing full well that it would turn into a money pit but it didn’t matter. She wanted, no, needed, somewhere to call home. “Oh – my – God,” whispered Joan. The house was an antebellum era Greek revival but it was almost falling down. She glanced over at Sarah and impulsively grabbed her free hand and gave it a squeeze. “Please tell me there’s a wide semi-circular staircase and a chandelier and – “ Sarah uncharacteristically giggled and then wiped her sweaty palms on her short skirt. “It’s a fixer-upper. I’ve never owned a place I lived and I thought it was time to finally set down some roots. The price was right and the land – “ “Talk to me as you show me around. My God, is Rhett Butler hiding in the stable and where’s Scarlet?” She was enthralled with the house, imagining all the labor that would be required to put things to right. She was out of the car and standing on the porch, shifting from one foot to the other before Sarah could undo her seatbelt. “I have got to pee,” she said when Sarah joined her, keys in hand. “Okay. It’ll just take a minute for me to get a lantern for you and – can you handle a pistol? I haven’t got indoor plumbing yet and the ‘facilities’ are out back behind the tool shed. Out here snakes are pretty common although they normally crawl away if you make enough noise. Oh – and there’s a roll of toilet paper on a hook beside the right-most toilet seat.” She struggled not to smile as the color drained from Joan’s face. “Move it, Sarah. Yes, I can shoot a pistol and yeah, I know about outhouses. Let me in and get me fixed up before I pee myself.” They had a summer house on the Allegheny river that had an outhouse and she also knew about snakes. Indoor plumbing was their first of many ‘additions’ over the years. Sarah opened one of the two double doors and put an arm around her shoulders and led her into the center of the foyer. She took out the control device and tapped a key and a huge chandelier lit the room. “Oh, my God…it’s beautiful.” Sarah was having the exact same thought although not about the chandelier. Joan’s face took on an inner beauty when she gazed at something in amazement. “The first thing I had done was a full bath, Joan. There is an outhouse behind the tool shed but only a fool would use it.” Again, she put her arm around Joan’s shoulders and led her to a narrow door with an antique doorknob. Sarah opened it and ushered her in. “Oh, thank God!” Joan walked quickly over to the porcelain commode, turned and pulled up her short skirt and yanked down her panties and sat down with a heartfelt sigh. She didn’t care that she provided Sarah with an intimate peek at her ass and pussy. All she cared about was relieving her cramping bladder. Joan’s actions answered several questions that had been on Sarah’s mind. One, she was not overly modest. Two, she was well-waxed. And three, her earlier impression of a female Poppin’ Fresh Doughboy was wildly inaccurate.

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