Star Trek and its characters are the property of Paramount. This not-for-profit piece of fan fiction is not intended to infringe on that ownership. The author's copyright applies only to the creative content and her original characters.
This story is one in a series about the relationship between James Kirk and Suzanne Brandt. The Kirk-Brandt Chronology lists all the stories, both in order of occurrence and order of creation.
NOTE: For those of you who've read "Les Liaisons Ridicules (Ridiculous Liaisons)," this A/U takes place a couple of days after the camping trip and makes a sharp turn away from the original storyline. For those of you who haven't read that story, here's a quick summary up to the point where the stories fork (or you can read the whole story at Les Liaisons Ridicules). During his second year at the Academy, Kirk starts dating Ruth. Appalled by his choice of girlfriend, Brandt nicknames her "the Cupcake" and decides to break them up for Kirk's own good. She goes on a camping trip with them and scares Ruth into near-hysterics with a 23rd Century urban legend. Although Brandt had hoped this would show Kirk what a sissy the Cupcake is, her plan backfires when he rescues the fair damsel who's trapped in a tent full of bug spray. The next day, he makes Brandt promise to make friends with Ruth and then throws her into a nearby lake. Fig (mentioned briefly in this story) is Brandt's roommate and closest friend.
***
POSING WITH BAKED GOODS
It was a dark and stormy night.
Well, it was. And I was pissed off.
To start out with, I had to walk all the way across town in the dark-and-stormy because I'm broke. And all my usual lenders are tapped out except Kirk, and I refuse to give him the satisfaction of holding any more of my markers than he already does, not after he threw me into a freezing cold lake. But my lack of funds meant I had to walk and I cursed him and his girlfriend every step of the way.
What did he see in her? I'd been asking myself that since I first laid eyes on her. I suppose she was pretty in a too-much-hair-makeup-jewelry-and-evening-gowns-in-the-middle-of-the-afternoon sort of way, but the part of nature that abhors a vacuum must have been off-duty when she came through the brains department. In addition to being utterly insipid, she clung to Kirk and called him "Jim darling" in this sappy voice that made my stomach turn. And to top it off, she wasn't even putting out! I'd been knocked speechless when she asked me to be her tentmate on the camping trip to make sure "Jim doesn't get any ideas." I'd agreed partially out of shock but mostly to have a chance to observe her at close range. My plan was simple--stop her by any means necessary before she simpered her way into Jim's life on a long-term basis. After all, what kind of a friend would I be if I let him run his love life so stupidly? I thought of it as an intervention.
Unfortunately, my first attempt at snuffing out their romance backfired so I'd had to placate Kirk by telling him I'd make it up to her. I thought we'd have lunch together but when I asked her, she had "an even better idea!"
A makeover.
I tried to get out of it but she pouted until I agreed, which is how I ended up stomping up Nob Hill in the rain and wondering how many demerits I'd get for tossing a pampered rich girl into a wide disbursement beam-out.
Halfway to her apartment, my weather shield failed (actually, it was Fig's weather shield and I wish she'd be more conscientious about keeping it charged) so I arrived dripping wet. My hostess was of course picture-perfect--every lacquered hair in place, layers of makeup artfully applied, the palest pink nail polish chip-free. And she was floating in a rainbow of chiffon. She looked more cupcake-like than I'd ever seen her and I dreaded what she was going to do to me.
She led me into the living room where there were candles burning everywhere. I asked if that was the right lighting for a makeover and she said she thought we'd have a little tea party first.
Life is so unfair.
I went to sit on the sofa but she stopped me. "Andorian silk," she explained. Next thing I knew, we were in her bedroom and she was picking out something for me to wear while my own clothes dried.
I felt a little uncomfortable undressing in front of her and even more so when I put on what she'd picked out for me. A pale blue minidress (and I do mean mini) with tiny pearl buttons up the front. She insisted I wear the matching sandals even though they pinched but I drew the line at the french-cut panties. My own underwear was perfectly dry and I made her put hers away. She sulked of course, but she did it.
Back in the living room, she poured the tea and added too much sugar for my taste but I drank it. After all, I was a guest in her home. And what a strange place that was! Everything was draped in chiffon, silk, velvet, chiffon, satin, chiffon, and did I mention chiffon? I felt like I was drowning in it. And everything was...pastel. The colors blended as seamlessly as melted sherbet and they were all so pale it would have been hard to put a name to any individual flavor. I imagined wandering lost in the infinite creamscape, if not for the few judiciously placed signposts--midnight-blue cushions in the window seat, bright orange gladioli in a vase on the mantle, green marble tabletops, and a purple cat curled up in the corner. I'd never seen a purple cat before and I assumed she'd done a makeover on him until she told me he was genetically engineered to go with the apartment. He was hugely fat (or else he had the biggest hair I've ever seen on a cat) and his name was Fabrique.
I was afraid he would cuddle up to me in that malicious way all cats do when they sense that you're a dog person but he gave me a slow once-over and walked away, his tail high in the air.
I was trying to think of something to say that would satisfy the etiquette gods ("some place you have here" seemed safe) when she lifted the cover off a serving tray and revealed a mountain of pastries--cakes, cookies, tarts, lady fingers--no cupcakes though, other than the smiling blonde one who informed me we were using her grandmother's bone china and her great-grandmother's sterling silver.
"Uh huh," I said, practically drooling as I watched her arrange the pastries on two plates. First she arranged them symmetrically. Then she changed her mind and did them by color. Then by size. Then by some criteria I couldn't figure out. Finally she seemed satisfied but before I could choose from the plate she'd handed me, she flipped over the serving spatula and insisted I examine the elaborate pattern engraved there.
"Grandmamma loved roses," she explained. "And these were her special favorites. See? These are Denebian tea roses and that's an Aldebaren climber and I bet you don't know what this big one in the center is, do you? It's Surak's Dream. It's very rare."
"Uh huh," I said again and bit into an orange-cream petit four.
God, it was good! I've never had anything like it in my life and everything else was just as good or better. In no time at all, I was down to two cookies and a Kaferian crumb cake. I had just scarfed down the crumb cake when she whispered, "You have a little frosting on the left side of your mouth." Before I could ask if she meant her left or my left, she reached over and ran her finger along the corner of my mouth. Then she licked her fingertip real slow, watching me the whole time.
Uh oh.
When I was thirteen, I was very good friends with another girl and we kissed a little--we said we were practicing for boys--but we never went any further than that and I had no desire to start down that road with the Cupcake, no matter how many delicacies she had stashed in her pantry. I stuffed both cookies into my mouth to make sure she didn't try to practice-kiss me. I could imagine her saying, "So I'll be perfect for Jim darling" and slipping her little tongue into my mouth. I decided to get the hell out of there as soon as I could say goodbye without spewing crumbs. Maybe sooner if she tried to put a move on me.
"Now, Suzanne," she said and I almost jumped out of my skin. She sounded just like the head of my old school! Her voice was still breathy and cloying but that tone--I always thought Lady Mother had a patent on stern-but-warm. "I have to say I was very disappointed in you."
I was mesmerized. Hearing those words from my past come out of the Cupcake's mouth made them no less effective. I remembered how I sometimes got into trouble just so I could be lectured by Lady Mother.
"That was a very naughty trick you played."
My God! She really was channeling Lady Mother and to my shock--
"You're right, Ruth, and I'm very sorry."
--I started channeling little Suzanne!
"Jim was very upset with you. Do you know what he said about you?"
I almost said, "No, ma'am" but she didn't give me a chance.
"He said sometimes you act like a brat. What do you have to say about that?"
"He and Gary always call me that. It's my nickname."
"Well, it's a very appropriate one. And there's only one way to deal with a brat."
I suddenly felt very naked in the flimsy minidress and strappy sandals.
"You wouldn't!"
"I'm afraid I have no choice. So if you'll just--"
"Forget it, Ruth!" I jumped up and made a beeline for the coat closet.
I was halfway into my wet coat when she said, "Look at me, Suzanne."
The Lady Mother effect again. I couldn't refuse.
She was still sitting on the sofa with her hands folded in her lap. Fabrique sat at her feet staring at me with his yellow and lavender eyes. He licked his lips as Ruth tilted her head and pursed her mouth into a Cupid's bow.
"Suzanne, don't be difficult. You were very mean to me and we both know that you deserve to be punished. We know something else too, don't we?"
I hoped she didn't know what I knew but I was pretty sure she did, so I prayed she wouldn't say it.
"You want it."
I swallowed hard but the lump in my throat wouldn't go down.
"Now put away your coat, take off that ugly military underwear, and put these on."
She lifted her hand and I saw the blue panties dangling from her fingertips. The sneaky bitch hadn't put them away after all. Fabrique reached up and batted at the crotch.
"Suzanne, you'd better move quickly because if Fabrique tears these, I'll be very upset. And it will be your fault."
I took the panties and got a pleased smile from her and a dirty look from Fabrique.
In very short order, my coat was back in the closet, my own underwear had disappeared in the flashbin (as per her command), and I was wearing the lingerie francais-coupez. She had pushed the tea table away from the sofa and there was plenty of room for me to lay across her lap.
I hesitated, wondering if I could actually go through with it. While I'd been squeezing my butt into her underwear, the ridiculousness of the situation had hit me and frankly, I was worried that I'd laugh.
I was going to be spanked by the Cupcake! That would be like being paddled with cotton candy. A few pats on the ass (I'd have to remember to say "ow"), a sugary admonition to behave myself, a quick goodbye and I'd be back at the Academy where Fig and I would laugh ourselves sick when I told her.
So I lay across her knee, buried my fingers in the thick turquoise pile of the carpet and waited to be assaulted with a weapon of mass fluffiness.
"Good girl. I'm glad you're so willing to learn your lesson," she said. I couldn't help snickering over the pat opening but she thought it was something other than a snicker. "Don't be afraid, Suzanne darling. Afterwards I'll make it all better, I promise. We'll have a glass of sherry and some yummy teacakes and we'll forget all about your bad behavior. But you were a brat and I'm going to have to warm your little brat bottom."
I thought I'd bust a gut trying not to laugh!
Then she lifted my skirt and hooked her thumbs under my panties and it stopped being funny.
I could hear how carefully she was breathing as she pulled them down and I started breathing that way too. I felt goosebumps rising on my exposed skin and I pressed my legs together because the suddenly live area between them demanded it.
She gasped. "Suzanne darling, you are a terrible brat but you have such a lovely backside. It's perfect, it really is!" She began running her hands--her soft, cool hands--over my lovely backside and then I didn't care if she was going to give me the lousiest, most ineffectual spanking ever--her hands stroking my ass were worth it. "It's so round and smooth and not a blemish anywhere! I know girls who would pay to have this skin on their faces!"
The imagery of that remark took the edge off my mood and I would have said, "Ew!" if she hadn't pinched me. Instead I squirmed and she giggled.
"Who knows? Maybe someday I'll find out what it's like to have to this skin on my face."
I was really out of the mood now and was about to declare game-over when she ran a fingertip down my asscrack.
Mood restored and then some.
"Lovely. Just lovely. But down to business, my sweet-bottomed brat."
She leaned forward and I heard her get something off the tea tray and then that something came down on my ass. Hard. I was so surprised that I yelled "Ow!" for real and tried to see what she had in her hand.
"Hold still, darling."
"What is that?!"
"It's the serving spatula. You wouldn't want me to hurt my hand, would you? After all, this is your punishment."
Uh oh.
It only took a few spanks for me to realize that she was well-practiced. Her timing was flawless; each pause lasted just long enough for the sting to start fading and for me to start having uncomfortable thoughts about a flowery silver pattern being burned into my butt. Then whack! She'd start up again.
It wasn't long before the tingling moved well beyond my buttcheeks. I gripped the carpet and writhed, all the while trying to convince myself that I wasn't enjoying this the way my pussy insisted I was.
Every so often, she'd stop and I'd collapse against her legs. Then I'd feel her hand again, caressing what she'd just been punishing and I had to fight the urge to say "Yes!"
Sometimes it wasn't her hand. The first time she scraped the rough edge of the spatula against my tinderbox of an ass, I yelped.
"Louder!" she ordered and smack! I obeyed.
"Do you remember how I yelled when I was stuck in that tent? I want to hear you howling just like that, you bad little brat."
I obliged. I had no choice, not with the way she was wielding the spatula. But every time she stopped or even slowed down a bit, I lifted my ass in a plea for more because each piercing stroke drove me deeper into a fantasy of what might follow.
I imagined her hand rubbing away the hurt, applying a cool, slippery lotion, so slippery that a manicured finger sliding up my butt would seem like an accident. Then another finger would very deliberately slip into my cunt and a third would go to work on my clit. I thought of the dainty, ladylike tongue that had licked the frosting off her finger. I imagined the wet sounds of kissing and licking and sucking. I wanted it all but I couldn't imagine asking for it.
Then a flurry of paddling helped me imagine it quite easily.
I spread my legs and whispered, "Please."
In the long silence, I prayed that she would decide I'd learned my lesson and it was time to "make it all better." I also prayed that "sherry and teacakes" was a euphemism for eating me until I passed out.
But she drummed her fingernails against my butt and pointed out that "a punishment isn't meant to be enjoyed, Suzanne darling. Now close your legs, you nasty girl."
Thoroughly humiliated, I did as I was told. When she told me to present my "naughty little bottom" for the punishment it deserved, I raised my ass to once again meet the thorns on Grandmamma's favorite roses.
Then she went at it harder and double-time, giving me no chance to even think about what I wanted.
"Ruth, please!" I begged and I wish I could say I was begging for her to stop or continue or something but the truth is it just felt good to beg.
That's when she began scolding me. Her voice was full of hurt and disappointment as she told me what a naughty brat I was, what a bad girl, what a shame it was to have to turn my pretty bottom such an ugly shade of red... She went on and on, and in between my very sincere cries of "OW!" I agreed with her.
"Only a very dirty girl would actually enjoy this."
"You're right! OW!"
"You do understand that you're being punished, don't you?"
"Yes! OW!"
"It's for your own good. You know that, don't you?"
"Yes! OW!"
"Because if you don't--"
"I do! OW!"
"I'll just have to spank you harder. Bad bad bad bad--"
"OW OW OW OW!"
Well, you get the idea.
Finally she stopped, pulled up my panties, and told me to get up. It took me a long time to manage it--not that I wanted to be spanked some more--God forbid!--but because I was shaking so badly. When I was finally on my feet, she put her hands on my shoulders and said in a sad voice, "Suzanne darling, I'm so sorry we had to do this."
Then she kissed me, barely touching her lips to mine, and that tenderness pushed me over the edge. I began crying and when she put her arms around me, I snuffled into the big chiffon flower on her shoulder.
"Now, now, stop all this." A part of me couldn't believe I was enjoying being consoled by her but most of me wanted that part to shut up so I could enjoy it even more. "It wasn't that bad, was it, my sweet brat?"
I let out a loud sob that meant--well, it meant a lot of things but mostly, "Yes, it was but you're calling me your sweet brat so I don't mind."
"And you were so brave! I'm very proud of you, darling, very very proud."
I really liked hearing that and I snuffled some more, hoping she'd expand on my bravery but she moved along as if the comfort part of all this was on a strict schedule.
"All right, that's enough. Wipe your face." The handkerchief she handed me was frighteningly delicate and I was careful not to blow my nose on her initials. "I said I'd make it all better and I will. Now what would you like--sherry and cakes? Or something else?"
I definitely wanted something else and that something else was her, so I threw my arms around her and kissed her, rubbed against her, groped at her dress. I realized I was being as rough as the worst clod I'd ever gotten trapped in a clinch with, but I wanted to devour that little Cupcake and I wanted her to do anything and everything to me as long as it was delivered as skillfully as the spanking had been.
She pulled away and said, "Oh Suzanne, you sweet darling! I hoped you would feel that way."
She took my hand and led me into the bedroom.
***
I sat on the bed and watched her as she went around the room lighting candles. How could I have been so blind to her grace and elegance? She was like an artist whose talent was beauty. She created it, she embodied it, and lucky me, I was going to be fucked by it.
Unfortunately, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as she moved away from the dressing table. Even in the soft candlelight, I was a mess. My hair stuck out in all directions, my dress clung to my sweaty skin, and my face looked like an overly ripe tomato with a fatal case of buckeye rot.
I had to act fast or Beauty would realize she was about to bang the Beast.
"Could we do without the candles?" I asked.
She gave me an indulgent smile and I thought I'd go crazy if I didn't kiss her very soon.
"All right. We'll do this your way." She began blowing out the candles. "But I hope you're not always shy like this because I want to see every beautiful inch of you." She picked up the last candle--a peach-scented votive in a crystal chimney--and carried it to the bed. "You do this one."
I blew it out and before I could unpucker my lips, she kissed me. It was a stunningly smooth move and it got even better when she leaned in and lowered me to the bed while setting the candle on the nightstand. Her tongue flicked in and out of my mouth as she popped the line of buttons on my dress. When I was exposed to the waist (and longing for her to rip through the last few buttons) she stopped kissing me and looked down at my tits.
"Oh, look at these lovelies! What sweet boobies! Now which one should I start with? Eeny meeny minie moe--"
I started to tell her that I preferred my dirty talk dirty when she began kissing Eeny and after that, I didn't care if she called them Kitten and Princess.
When she raised her head, the sudden cold air made me gasp. She laughed softly as she cupped her hands around my breasts. Then she pinched my "pretty, pretty nips" until they were "hard as little jelly beans." Every touch made me shiver and I would have gone on selfishly enjoying her attentions if she hadn't led one of my hands to her own tits. I began playing with it mostly to ensure that she didn't stop playing with mine, but when I felt a jelly-bean hardness push against my palm, an electric jolt zinged into my crotch and I began rubbing against her in ways that made my earlier leg-spreading seem positively demure. God, if just touching her nipple--through her dress!--could get me going like that, I couldn't imagine--
She sat up and pulled down the top of her dress, proudly displaying her luscious tits.
"Do you like my fine ladies?"
"Oh, yes!"
"Really?"
I realized that "Yes, really!" wasn't the compliment she wanted and there was certainly plenty to praise but she had already used all the adjectives for round and soft and pretty when admiring my ass so I went with my original assessment.
"They're luscious!" I took the tip of the nearest fine lady into my mouth.
I've never tasted my own nipples but I'm pretty sure they don't taste like butter cream. Whatever lotion she was using, it was worth every credit. I suddenly felt bad that my tits probably tasted like off-brand moisturizer so I added a lot of "Mmmmmmm" to show my appreciation of hers.
She loved it and I loved hearing her moan and soon I was humming like a harmonica player.
In the middle of all this, she sat up and pulled her dress off. I started to undo the last buttons on mine but they fell right out of my hands when I saw that she had nothing on underneath. If I was a dirty girl for enjoying my spanking, what was she for delivering it with nothing between us but a few flimsy layers of chiffon?
I laughed and said, "Ruth, you slut!"
"No bad words, Suzanne."
"But you don't have anything on!"
She put her hand between my legs and fingered the crotch of my panties.
"And you're laying there with your legs wide open, wearing my panties which are very wet and have probably been that way ever since you realized you were going to be spanked."
I couldn't deny the truth of that so I grinned and whispered, "Then we're both sluts." I thought maybe she'd like it better if I didn't say it so loud.
"I am not--what you said. What I wear or don't wear is my own business and you are very rude for making such a comment."
With that, she flipped me over, pulled the seat of my panties up tight into my asscrack, and smacked my butt. It was the same soft hand that had caressed it earlier and if she hadn't already paddled me with a spatula, it probably would have felt like a modest slap. But she had paddled me with a spatula and every smack of her hand rekindled that fire. Then she started scolding me again and I felt my face burning with shame. Humiliated at both ends.
"Say you're sorry."
I did.
"Promise you'll never call me that again."
I promised.
"Say you're a bad girl."
I said I was.
"And what else?"
I said I was a bad girl, a nasty girl, a dirty girl with bad-tasting nipples, a girl who needed to learn her lesson, a girl who just wanted her boobies kissed, a girl whose bottom hurt--
"What else?"
I said I was a slut.
She rolled me over, slid her hand into my panties, and whispered, "Yes, you are, my darling."
Oh, those fingers! Those clever, nimble, endlessly inventive fingers! In and out, over and under, tickling, gliding, teasing, nudging... And finally--FINALLY drawing a slow deliberate circle around my clit. I called her name over and over, louder and higher each time, and I was on the verge of screaming when her words stole my breath away.
"Aren't you glad I spanked you?"
At that reminder of what had gone before, I came in a wet gush that flooded my panties and cooled my stinging butt.
And then--then her fingers got really busy and did every dirty thing this slutty brat had been hoping for and I came again and again until I came so hard it scared me and I begged her to stop. She did, but only long enough to pull off my panties and push my legs apart again. Then she put her mouth on my aching cunt and I don't know exactly what she did, but when I came, it felt like an explosion in slow motion.
Afterwards, we lay together with her head resting on my stomach. I was surprised at how comforting that was--I imagined she was keeping me from floating off the bed and disappearing completely. I put my hand on her head and found that her hair had come undone. I wondered if one of my orgasms had blown her hairpins off. I started laughing with what little energy I had left.
"What's so funny?" she asked.
"Nothing. I love your hair." I did. I had thought it would be stiff or gooey but it was just like the advertisements always promise--soft, smooth, and silky.
"And I love your muffin," she said and kissed my bush.
I got a very short, breathless laugh out before she moved up and gave me a deep taste of my muffin. I'm not sure I liked it but I did like tasting it on her tongue and knowing how it had gotten there.
"And now it's your turn to do me."
She took my hand and led it downward.
I panicked. I had never touched another girl's muffin and what she'd just done to mine had set the bar impossibly high. Embarrassed to the core, I started to explain that I'd never--
"Suzanne darling." She kissed me again. "Don't worry about it. Just do to me what you like to do to yourself. Now lay like this--" She turned me onto my stomach and lay down beside me head-to-toe so that her pussy was within easy reach of my hand and my ass was within easy reach of hers. "--and I'll let you know if you make any mistakes."
I did my best. I got a few smacks for rushing and few more for lack of variety and after a while, my hand began to ache but I didn't want to know what a complaint would earn me so I took a deep breath and went in tongue-first, imitating a very talented guy I had dated the previous summer. Her surprised "Oh!" was all that I could have wished for. She began moving her hips around and I had to work to stay with her. Finally she went stiff as a board, let out a howling wail, and dug her fingernails into my ass. That hurt like hell but I knew that I'd kill anyone who stopped eating me in mid-orgasm just because his ass hurt so I persevered.
Go, Starfleet!
Afterwards, she stretched and sighed and said, "Oh my, wasn't that a lovely surprise."
I thought that was probably the dopiest post-coital comment I'd ever heard but I was also bursting with pride that I'd gotten her off. I wished I could brag about it to someone. Someone like--
I sat straight up.
"You're Kirk's girlfriend!"
"Yes, I know." She sat up and whispered in my ear, "I'm going to marry him but he doesn't know that yet so let's just keep it our little secret."
I was stunned. I felt like I'd just discovered a new planet and she was telling me she was turning it over to him. I stammered out a lot of nonsense that basically came down to "What about me?" and really meant "What about my muffin?"
"Suzanne darling, you're worrying over nothing. My relationship with Jim won't make a bit of difference to us. We can still have our little tea parties."
"No, we can't. You should be having tea parties with him."
She rolled her eyes. "I can't do that if I'm going to marry him. After all, why would he buy the bakery if he can get dessert for free?" It was Lady Mother again, this time with tips on cockteasing. "But in the mean time, there's no reason I shouldn't let you taste the creme fraiche every now and then."
"But--"
"Suzanne, I'm finding this discussion very tiresome. Why don't we save it for our next tea party when I'll feel more like dealing with your nonsense. So shall we say Saturday at two? Say yes, darling. We can have so much fun together."
I wouldn't have believed someone's eyes could simultaneously convey sweet pleading and raw, sexy authority, but her baby-blues did just that.
I thought about all the fun we'd have together--spankings and not-very-dirty talk and nuclear orgasms. I thought about how strange and exciting it was to be scolded by her. I thought about panties being pulled down and a sterling silver spatula and skin that tasted like butter cream.
I thought about how happy I'd been stroking her hair and then I realized I'd probably had the same sappy look on my face that Kirk had whenever he was with her.
"I can't, Ruth. Jim is my friend and the only way I can make this up to him is to never let it happen again."
She sighed. "Suzanne darling, I want to have tea parties with you and I want to marry Jim and I always get what I want. But I think it's sweet that you're so concerned about--" She wiggled her fingers in little quotation marks. "--'right and wrong.' So here's what I'll do. I'll tell him we should see other people for a while. Now will that satisfy your silly conscience?"
I pointed out that Jim would want to know who his competition was. She gave me a sly smile, stretched out on the bed and said she liked the idea of Jim and me competing for her.
And when I thought about it, so did I. I liked it a lot. And I especially liked knowing he'd been dating her for nearly two months and I was ahead of him in just one night.
Even so, it couldn't hurt to build on my advantage so after we'd wrung a few more orgasms out of each other, we sat on her Andorian silk sofa wearing pink kimonos and sipping sherry. I even made friends with Fabrique while she gave me a makeover.
Beat that, JT.
A little after midnight, I told her I had to leave and she asked me to do one more thing for her.
"Suzanne darling, I'd like to see you smile."
I was so touched that she'd ask for something that simple, something I knew I couldn't fail at, that I kissed her and then I smiled.
"I love your mouth," she said. "And this dear little bump on your nose. It makes you look tough, but your sweet mouth says 'I'm not that tough; my nose is just a tease.' The first time I saw you, I knew I'd do your makeup one day. You like your new look, don't you, darling?"
I did. It wasn't really that different from my old look. Coquettish hoodlum. It was me, only more so.
"Ruth, I like everything you did tonight."
"I know."
I blushed and she beamed proudly. I was starting to think that maybe I could stay a little longer when she went to the mantlepiece and pulled a holo base out of the gladioli. When she activated it, I saw the two of us in miniature, looking very, very happy in our pink kimonos and perfect makeup.
I'm looking at our picture as I record this and I can still feel that smile on my face. It says, "I've just been spanked hard and fucked silly." Hers says, "By me."
Me and the Cupcake. Yum.
Oh, one more thing. Kirk will be going to bed without dessert for a long, long time.
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