Page 107 of Obedience

After showering, she padded downstairs to check on her mum. Finding her as she had left her, settled and sleeping, she watched her from the doorway. Life had become much tougher without her escorting income—although she could never contemplate a return to that life—she was feeling the squeeze financially and on her time. Losing nursing hours meant her time at home caring for Margaret had to increase. Greta was splitting her time between her own apartment and Dylan and Margaret’s house. Dylan would go to Greta’s when she could, but it was far from ideal. Still, all the problems she now faced, she faced with Greta. As stressful as it all was, nothing felt insurmountable. With the sacrifices Greta had made for them to be together, and the fierce sincerity in every “I love you”, Dylan knew she was in it for the long haul. Even though the feeling that she’d bitten off more than she could chew with her dissertation gnawed at her some days, Greta’s expertise, reassurance and guidance meant it was all finally pulling together.

Pressing her soft lips to her mum's head, Dylan whispered, ‘Lymsil’ into her hair and headed back upstairs.

Her bedroom was softly lit by the bedside lamps, the warm amber glow making the space cozy and soporific. After setting up her iPad and monitor, she tapped her phone screen.

Nothing.

The little brown box of envelopes sat on the bedside cabinet. She pulled the lid off, smiling at the one staring back at her: Read if you’re horny. Pressing the card to her nose she inhaled deeply, hoping the scent of Greta might still be lingering on it. Peeling back the tiny heart, she unfolded the note. Her lips curved into a wide smile as she read Greta’s gorgeous handwriting: Don’t touch yourself alone. Call me. Gx.

She brought it to her lips again, her smile pressed against the paper. Lying back on the bed, she pulled up her navy vintage T-shirt just enough to show her toned abs. Hooking her thumb in the elastic waistband of her white boxers, she pulled them down until they skimmed just the top of her pubic hair. Placing the note over her belly, she took a picture angled down her body and promptly sent it to Greta.

Dylan:

‘I should have saved this one for when there was no time difference. I suppose I’ll have to go it alone. Dx’

Within seconds three dots appeared on the screen.

Greta:

‘You can’t do this to me. I’m networking. Fuck Dylan! Gx’

She added a fire extinguished emoji and a phew face

Dylan slowly pushed the tips of her fingers through her warm, slick labia, dipping slightly, blowing out a long breath at the wetness already pooling. She pulsed and throbbed at the thought of her next move. Wiping her fingers on her lower belly, she pushed her boxers down with the back of her hand and took another picture. Her fingers and belly glistened just as she’d hoped. She sent it with a short message.

Dylan:

‘Lick this off me. I’ll be quick, I promise. Dx’

Greta:

‘Oh my Christ, Dyl!’

Dylan:

‘I’m close just at the thought of you, G. Come finish me off. Dx’

Greta:

‘Give me a few minutes. DO NOT come. Gx’

Dylan:

‘Margot? Give Greta her phone back!’

She signed off with three laughing emojis and rested the phone on her chest.

A few minutes passed as Dylan lazily pushed her fingers in long wet strokes, avoiding her clit, the mere thought of Greta already had her wildly turned on. Greta’s mouth, her fingers, her hands, imagining her strapped. The images alone were enough to bring Dylan close, and they were. Her phone vibrated with an incoming FaceTime. Dylan slid her thumb over the glass and held the screen up, showing Greta her flushed face and already heaving chest.

‘You took your time. I nearly finished without you,’ Dylan whispered, her eyes searching the screen. ‘Where are you?’

‘I’m in a fucking cupboard, Dylan,’ Greta said, her voice low and tight.

‘What?’

‘I’m in a—’

‘No, I heard you. I meant why?’