Sushi Plate

There are few pieces of advice that can actually stand the test of time.  Advice concerning the benefits of sunscreen may be the best one, but my advice about fine dining and sushi restaurants has to come in a close second: Bring a calculator, and use it before you order.

The Last Straw

When I arrived at the bar that Saturday night, I was feeling pretty good.  I just had a good day date with Brian, and I was on my way home, when I got a text message from Samantha, telling me to meet her.  I was expecting to go straight home and relax in the tub for the evening, but I shrugged off those plans and walked into the bar at about seven.

I was wearing a cute white skirt and a Yankees t-shirt that I had borrowed from Samantha’s closet.  I usually only buy feminine clothes, like skirts, cute tops, and things that are pink or frilly, so mixing in Samantha’s clothes make for some very cute outfits that are only slightly tomboyish.  She’s an out lesbian, and makes no efforts to look feminine, but we still share a body type, so I can easily slip into anything she wears.

Bail

Cassie walked into the police station as if she had stepped into an alien world.  The small town of Guadalupe Springs, New Mexico barely had enough residents to allow for a bowling alley, let alone an all-night police station.  Most of the lights in the station were off, and only a few officers were there, mostly keeping the drunks in the drunk tank company, or filing away the last of their paperwork.  They looked up when Cassie came in, but then looked back down when they realized it was nobody special.

Cassie immediately saw Claire, handcuffed to a bench, wearing a baby blue jumpsuit which was branded with “City of Guadalupe Springs” lettering on the side.  Claire looked up and saw Cassie, but immediately averted her gaze.  There was a lot of shame to go around in this situation, and Claire had debated calling Cassie at all for bail money, or pressing her luck in the drunk tank.

Cassie approached the main desk, and a female police officer handed her a clipboard.  “If you have the bail, you can just sign here,” she said sternly.  Cassie was pleased that the process was so quick, and that the majority of the effort was just getting out of bed and raiding the cash stash.  She was glad that it would soon be over.  Cassie read over the paper and the charge, drunk and disorderly.  It was by no means a high crime, or even something that would follow Claire forever, but it was embarrassing nonetheless.

“What’s this extra fee?” Cassie asked.  The bail had been set by the judge, but the station had levied an extra thirty dollar fee labelled processing on top of that.

“She wasn’t wearing what she’s wearing now when she was arrested.  She had already removed all of her clothing, so we had to give her something to cover up.”  Cassie let out an audible sigh, knowing that Claire had heard.  Claire kept her head down, as Cassie signed away.  The officer then came over and released Claire from her cuffs, and helped her to her feet.

“You have a good friend there,” the officer said to Claire.  Claire sulked away, walking out of the police station a free woman, waiting for Cassie to join her outside.

“I don’t know what I’ll do with her,” Cassie said.  “But don’t worry officer, she’s not going to end up here again, that’s for damn sure.”

Cassie exited the station and joined Claire in her sulk.  It was six months since they had moved to this town, and Cassie knew that Claire was having trouble adjusting.  Of course, she was in her mid-twenties, and Cassie was only in her early thirties, and so her behavior this night was nothing but Claire’s immature and bratty nature gone amok.  She was getting too old to be acting out like this, and Cassie needed to make sure she set the law down tonight.

“C’mon, let’s go home,” Cassie said, tugging at Claire’s new jumpsuit.  She padded along in flipflops that were also provided, courtesy of the jail.  Claire walked to the passenger door of the car, and waited for Cassie to unlock it.
“Claire,” Cassie said.  “Now that we’re alone, I can be a bit more normal with you.”

Claire sighed, knowing what “normal” for Cassie meant.  “What do I need to do?”

“You were very, very bad this evening, and could not control your drinking.  This is behavior that needs to be punished.”

“I was arrested,” Claire protested.  “Time served?”

“Um, I think not!” Cassie threw back.  “You may be basically square in the eyes of the law, you just need to pay a little fine, but you caused a considerable amount of grief for me this evening.  Do you know how embarrassing it was for me to get the call to bail your ass out?  Do you know how much people in these small towns talk?”

Claire nodded, knowing that more protesting would just lead to more punishment.  “Get in the back seat,” Cassie ordered.  Claire climbed into the back, and before Cassie closed the door, she leaned in and looked Claire up and down.  “Now, Claire, I had to pay extra for that cute little getup you’re wearing.  Do you think it’s fair that you forced me to buy that,and I don’t get to have it, even though I just purchased it?”

“No,” Claire said.

“Good, we’re in agreement then,” Cassie said.  “Hand it over.”

Claire relunctantly looked around and sighed.  Cassie had her cornered, which is what Cassie did best, and Claire knew better than to fight her on any point.  Claire fumbled with the snaps and lone zipper and quickly shed the jumpsuit.  She had to fidget in her seat a bit, but eventually the suit was off, revealing what Claire had really been arrested in:  An American Flag thong panty and blue star nipple covers, covering Claire’s C-cup breasts.

“Now,” Cassie said, “I don’t see why they had to cover you up with anything.  That’s just about formal wear for you!”

The costume Claire was wearing had placed second in Maddigan’s annual third of July bikini contest.  As most towns in America, July the fourth was dedicated to family barbecue and fireworks, with all the bars in Guadalupe Springs closed.  Maddigan’s took the third of July as the perfect day for a raunchy bikini contest, with contestants from many towns over taking part.  

Claire had pleaded with Cassie to come for support, but Cassie refused saying it was objectifying to women, and taking the feminist high road.  An argument had erupted in their house, with the end being Claire storming out of the house to take part in the fun, and Cassie going to bed early.  What Claire had not counted on was a jealous bitch from Las Cruces getting drunk and accusing her of trying to “steal her man.”  No amount of talking could calm the woman, and when the police arrived the fight was already well underway.  All the witnesses, and the owners of the bar, were just happy to claim they both started the fight, and be able to continue the night’s festivities, minus the few bad elements.  Cassie was still fuming at this injustice, mostly because there was no possible way that she would ever attempt to “steal” anyone’s “man”.

She sat and sulked in the car as Cassie drove, the night turning out to be an unquestionable disaster.  “Listen, I’m sorry we fought,” Claire started.  “But the bar fight really wasn’t my fault!”

“Claire, you’re never going to grow up if you don’t take responsibility once or twice for your actions,” Cassie angrily shouted from the driver’s seat.  “Bail money does not come free you know!” They pulled into the garage and Cassie stopped the engine and opened the door.  “Stay here until I say to get out!” she ordered.

Cassie left Claire alone in the garage, and she wondered what was next.  The light was on a timer and clicked off, leaving Claire alone in the dark car, patiently awaiting Cassie’s next order.  Cassie finally came back and made her way to Claire’s door and opened it.  “Get out, and come with me,” she said fuming.

They exited the garage and entered the backyard, the patio lit by by the lights on inside the house.  Cassie led Claire to the hose and stated, “We’re going to get that jailhouse stank off of you!  Now strip!”

Claire looked around nervously, wondering if she was understanding fully.  “Here?” she asked.

“Of course here!” Cassie yelled.  “Now!”

Claire’s breathing quickened and she pulled the adhesive stars off her nipples.  “Toss it all in the garbage can,” Cassie ordered.  Claire was on the verge of tears as she placed the stars in the garbage, and pulled the thong down, off her legs.

“That goes in the garbage too!” Cassie insisted.  Claire sniffled some more, and tossed the remains of her bikini in the trash.  Cassie then walked over to the hose, and turned on the faucet.  Water started flowing from the hose, and Cassie, placed her finger at the end of the hose, increasing the water pressure of the stream which came out.

Claire flinched as the first jet of water hit her, but then eventually get used to the assault.  Water formed in droplets all across her skin, and even the warm summer air couldn’t help to make the experience less frigid.  Claire covered her pussy and breasts, in a vain attempt to maintain some modesty, but Cassie expertly sprayed her without mercy.

“Please Cassie!” Claire yelled.  Tears were streaming down her face, but of course those were overwhelmed by the gallons of water that Cassie had forced over it.  “I’m sorry!” she said.
“Then take your punishment!  Spread your legs, arms out!”  Cassie barked.  She loved giving orders like this and was getting wetter by the second as she applied more of the hose to Claire.  Claire dutifully did as she was told, and Cassie wasted no time in taking advantage.  Her pussy tits and face were blasted with icy cold well-water that did more to utterly humiliate her than actually clean her.

“It just occured to me, Claire,” Cassie taunted.  “I paid good money tonight for you, and you insisted on prancing around like a whore tonight without me.  Now is that anyway to treat a client?”  Cassie laughed with an evil grin.

“No,” Claire whimpered.

“So are you going to be a good whore for me?”

Claire’s mind was so clouded with everything that had happened tonight and the lashing she was getting at the hands of Cassie’s hose.  “Yes!” she exclaimed. “I’ll be a good whore for you!”

The water was turned off and Cassie put the hose down.  She walked over to the blubbering Claire who was looking up at her with sad, puppy-dog eyes.  “All forgiven?” she asked.

Cassie kissed her on the forehead and told her, “Now go upstairs and take a nice long shower.  You wanted to parade around like a whore tonight, and you’re going to make good on your promise!”

Claire broadly smiled, and pranced to the house, eager to hop in the shower and make sure she showed Cassie tonight that her bail money was worth every cent.

The End of the Bar

I walked into that bar exhausted yet again, another day at work.  Hiring someone else at this point would be ineffectual, it would take three of me to get through the paperwork that is ever growing on my desk.  I’m not even sure what we make anymore, is it paperclips?

This isn’t your pickup bar, or even a dive, it’s an after-work bar where the paper-pushers, middle-men and women, and office drones sit and drink their worries from the day away.  It is where I can walk in with the clothes I work in, and not be bothered by men trying in vain to pick me up, and women who were born when I started college looking at me like an ancient old crone.

I sipped my cranberry vodka and breathed with a sigh, letting go of the worries of the day, and attempting to watch the game on the tiny screen.  Then, I saw her, the girl at the end of the bar, and my mind’s feet drifted over to her.

She was in her early twenties, dark skin, and a very cute bob haircut.  Her hair was curly and highlighted and she had the cutest nose.  She sipped her drink, possibly a shirley temple, through a straw and looked around, not knowing what to do with herself.

I certainly did.  I would reach over and stroked her shoulder and she would smile in response.  I’d sit next to her and try to match the excitement in her large black eyes with equal excitement in my green ones.  I would comment on her dress, which looked absolutely divine and showed off her long legs, and she would comment on my hair and I would ask if she would like to go to a booth.

She would respond with “Maybe somewhere else...” and rise from her stool and lead me out of the bar and into the cool night air.  She would lead me to her car, and then inside, and we would drive to her apartments.  Once inside, we would waste no time with getting-to-know-yous, we would both know what was going to happen.

She would start by kissing my neck and reaching behind me to undo my dress.  I would hug her and take in the intoxicating scent of her hair and kissing down the dark skin of her shoulders, while wiggling her body to get out of the dress which she had loosened with one swift motion.  That dress would fall to the floor, as would mine and our bodies would collapse onto her couch, my hands exploring her mocha skin, and her tongue getting her first taste of my stiffening pink nipples.

Eventually, her touching would be too much, and I would rub against her hip, giving her the indication that under thin cotton panties was a moist patch, waiting to get touched, kissed, and licked.  She would then slip off my bra and I would use my teeth to drag her panties down, as she undid hers a little more expertly than mine.

With her pussy revealed, I would pull my face close to the dark patch of hair and already swollen lips that I could see within.  Kissing her inner thighs would only tease her more and leaning back she would assume the position for what I was an expert in.  I would tease her clit carefully to make and appearance, and then plant little kisses around, as she closed her eyes and scrunched up her face in an adorable way.  My mouth on her pussy would make her squirm and tease her just so, and then my mouth would find new territory on her ample breasts.  As I would lick her dark nipples, her arms would envelop me, not being shy about wanting our exposed pussies to finally make contact.  We would kiss on the lips, and our pussy lips would meet, tasting each other sinfully as our mouths and hands explored each other with a white hot intensity.

Her bed would naturally come next, and our nude bodies would climb inside, making a mess of the neatly laid out covers and sheets.  We would tangle ourselves in passion and pass our juices back and forth to each other, tasting each other and drinking each other in as the other came.  We would be as loud as we needed to be and greedy with the air, panting heavily as a signal to each other to keep on doing what they were doing.  We would then collapse into each others arms and relax the rest of the night away as we dreamed together with each other’s scents and tastes still fresh and intoxicating the other, more than any drink could.

A loud cheer from the bar snapped me out of my daydream.  The score had been made, the game had been won.  I looked at the end of the bar, and my girl now had company, a tall muscular man who planted a kiss on his date, and unfortunately, the game for me was over before it started.