Tina:

“This is crazy!” Bette whined touching the blindfold.

“Hey, trust me!” I said with a slight chuckle. It was very entertaining to watch Bette, the control freak, be simmered down to helpless child. It’s like I can control every single thing. Hmm, that’s very interesting. No wonder Bette likes it so much.

“How am I supposed to get any work done?” Bette complained.

“You said you only have to email that artist about making a deal for the exhibit,” I said.

“Yeah, but how am I supposed to type if I can’t see?”

“You should just have Kelly sleep with him, she has that tendency anyways,” I murmured.

“I heard that, I‘ve lost one of my senses remember? My other senses are heightened,” Bette said with a chuckle, “that’s not a very productive way of working.”

“I know, but it’s easier,” I joked.

Bette scoffed and said, “not if it was me.”

“That’s because you don’t like penis, but if it were a female artist…”

“Not when I have a woman like you at home,” Bette said, “you’re more than enough.”

God Bette, you know the right words to say. I felt a blush run over my cheeks and a heat in the pit of my stomach. Good thing she couldn’t see my eyes, then she would know. “Okay,” I said inhaling deeply, “what do I type.”

“Ugh, okay,” Bette said, “dear Pablo, this is Bette Porter from the Worthington-Porter Gallery. My associate and I saw your artwork at the Mexican-American Museum and we were highly impressed. We would like to meet with you to discuss exhibiting your work at our gallery for our Spring exhibit. Please contact me so we can set up a meeting. Sincerely, Bette Porter.”

I typed as fast as I could, making sure to get every single word then I read it back to Bette. When she nodded, I sent the email. “You’re so good at what you do baby,” I said, smiling proudly.

“As are you,” Bette returned smiling broadly, “so, how am I supposed to cook? It’s my night.”

“I can do it,” I offered.

“No that is not fair!” Bette said stubbornly, “you cooked some great pasta yesterday.”

“I’ll guide you,” I said excited about the prospect of being pressed against her body as I guided her. Bette cocked her eyebrow curiously and I said, “Trust me.” I loved when she cocked her eyebrow like that. It was the look she gave me when I did something particularly odd, like when we first had sex after our breakup and I told her to spread her legs. She gave me that look and said, “are you talking dirty to me?” I smiled fondly at the memory and grabbed her hand, leading her toward the kitchen. She walked hesitantly but then relaxed and let me lead. I remembered her reaction that day when she realized her food had burned. I had made her cum so hard she didn’t even care.