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“You, little madam, are a very naughty girl, and if I did not have to get ready for work, I’d spank your cute little bum.”
Pixie looked up from between June’s legs, reluctantly withdrawing her fingers – but then sucking them noisily, which had been what had prompted June’s words.
June so wanted to take Pixie, but it was getting late, and she had to see her Mum before work.
“Darling, it’s fine, you have your routines, and I will fit in around them. Would it be bad form if I popped in for a bite at your place of work later and maybe walked you home, or whatever you do?”
June looked at her lover. She was still, mentally, pinching herself. This woman had come into her life on Friday night, and now, well now she could not imagine life without her. Of course, adjustments would have to be made, but she was glad that Pixie realised that some parts of June’s routines were fixed in stone. That she was willing to accommodate herself to that was yet another sign of her love.
“You are funny,” she said.
“Why?” Pixie asked.
“Bad form? Who says that?”
“I do, darling,” she grinned.
“Nah, it’ll be good – but make sure you tip me well.”
“What, over the table with a good spanking?”
“You are a BAD woman, Pixie – and I Iove you!”
“Well, while you work,” Pixie said, “I’ll put some washing on if you show me your machine.”
“You actually do your own washing? No maid or anything?”
“Why?” Pixie asked, “do you have a sexy maid’s outfit for me?”
“Anyone ever tell you that you were a little perv?’
“Yes, darling, you just did! I don’t suppose you have one?”
“What are you like?” June sighed. “You are into that?”
“I’m into being yours, and you being mine, but if that were part of it,” she licked her lips, “that would be good for me.”
June laughed, realising that, in her own sweet way, Pixie was teasing her. So she showed her how to operate the machine, and went to get dressed for work. It felt odd to her to leave Pixie there, like they were a married couple, her saying goodbye to her wife while she went to work. Pixie gave her a great big kiss and said:
“I love you, June Peters, now, off you go – and are you okay if I tidy up a bit and hoover?”
“Are you saying my place is messy?”
“No, but I am saying I’m happy to help!”
June recognised this was Pixie’s way of saying that she was more than just a guest. She leant down, kissed her, and told her that would be fine. As she left, she thought how odd, and yet not odd it seemed. Mondays were always a dull day, and Sunday nights a time when she could feel lonely, but she had Pixie to come home to; that felt good.
Pixie rather hoped she had not upset June, but she could recognise that with all she had on her plate, and with her weekend having been swallowed up by their love, there was housework to be done, and whatever June might think, Pixie rather liked doing such things. By the time it came to go to supper, she had hoovered and cleaned the whole house, got the washing in the dryer, and made sure that there would be nothing June had to do when she had gone. It was the going which Pixie was trying to put at bay with her activity. She was not looking forward to it, but was determined to execute her plans.
Pixie giggled to herself as she changed for supper, putting on fresh panties – she could still see the words on her bum if she looked behind herself in the mirror.
The restaurant was not too far from June’s, and when she went in, she could see that it was busy, not as busy as Friday night, but good from the business point of view. June’s face lit up as she saw her.
“Table for two, Madam?”
“Just the one, at least until my lover is free.”
“And when will that be, Madam?” June teased.
“That’s in your hands – as I am!”
Pixie ordered a light supper and settled back to watch June. It felt good. She was so skilful with the clients, polite, friendly, and helpful. There, Pixie thought, was someone who could help her with her dream of the Artworks Café.
Pixie ordered herself a bedtime white hot chocolate and when June brought the bill, added a good tip.
“Will you be able to join me for one?”
“I shall darling, give me a moment.”
As the last customers left, June came over with the Manager.
“This is Pixie, my girlfriend. Pixie, this is Cliff, our Manager!”
Pixie felt a sense of delight at June’s words, and she invited them both to sit. June had clearly told Cliff about her plans, and he had some helpful suggestions about suppliers and properties.
“It’s not like you are competition for us, Pixie, and it will do the city good to have something like that. I think it’s a great idea – and I know our June here will be a great help. You’re a lucky girl!”
As they walked home, Pixie thanked June, who just smiled and said:
“We’re a team, darling!”
June was delighted when Cliff said that he thought Pixie’s idea sounded a good one. Maybe, just maybe, their partnership could become a total reality. She was touched that Pixie was prepared to relocate, istanbul travesti but had wondered whether her ideas were at all practical. Pixie was a clever woman, but she was an intellectual, and what she was proposing to do would demand some real-world skills and common sense, not to mention some business nous; did her lover possess those?
“Wow! Just wow!”
June looked amazed as they took their coats off and went into the kitchen.
“What on earth? Pixie!”
Pixie looked anxious for a moment, until she saw the look in June’s eyes.
“Well, darling, if you ever want work as a cleaner, I’ll recommend you – and wow, you’ve even done the ironing and the hoovering. I usually do them on Saturday, but somehow, this weekend…!”
“Well, that was my fault, so I thought I’d repair it!”
“Well, I shan’t need to clean for a week!”
“And” Pixie grinned, “you have lots of pairs of clean panties, so, if you are not totally exhausted, let’s get those ones off!”
“Thought you’d never ask,” said June.
“Moi?” Pixie winked, “I thought you said I was sex mad.”
“You are,” June teased.
“Am not, am June mad, now come here you!”
Pixie pulled June to her and kissed her, putting her hands under her skirt and pulling her panties down. June, ever willing to help, managed to step out of them without breaking the kiss.
As Pixie’s tongue penetrated her mouth, June felt the tiredness lift, and as her panties were removed, she knew she wanted one thing. As Pixie’s hand cupped her pussy and pressed, she gasped.
“Oh Pix, take me, I need fucking!”
Grinning, Pixie pulled her upstairs to the main bedroom, and once there, they helped each other undress, with Pixie feverishly unclasping June’s bra so she could suck and caress her breasts.
Pixie pushed June onto the bed and, parting her legs, she kissed her pussy lips, slowly moving her tongue upwards, pressing back June’s lips to reveal her inner wetness. She loved that taste, and throwing caution to the winds, pressed the flat of her tongue against June’s pink, glistening lips, caressing, and feathering her there, breathing softly, blowing on her clit.
June felt Pixie’s breath on her and cried out in ecstasy. Her lover knew just how to tease her there. But June wanted more, she needed….
She felt herself moved, Pixie slid her leg between June’s thighs and pulled herself into a position where their pussies were pressed together.
“Fuck!” June groaned, how had Pixie known that was what…
June’s thoughts dissolved into bliss.
Pixie pressed herself against June’s pussy until their wetness mingled. Leaning in, she kissed and toyed with her breasts. June just pressed back. This was what Pixie loved the spontaneity with which they made loved. Even as she was licking June’s wetness, she had felt June’s need for more, and she was going to give it her.
“You belong to me, slut!” She told an increasingly ecstatic June.
“Yes, Miss!” June moaned, happy in her submission.
“And I am going to give you a good hard fucking. Do you have a strappy, my slut?”
“Oh yes, yes Miss!”
“Well,” Pixie smiled, “I can’t spare you yet!”
So saying, she pressed in, twisting and rolling her hips to increase the friction, and as their clits fenced, both women felt it; there was indeed no time to break off.
As Pixie called her a slut, told her who owned her, and controlled her, June surrendered into it. She pushed back. Yes, she wanted to be fucked, but she wanted this, this, this…
Pixie sucked at June’s puckered nipples, pulling on them as they tribbed. As she increased the pressure and the speed, she could feel the effect on June – it was the same as it was for her, she knew it.
“My slut, my bitch!”
“Yes, yes Miss!”
“Who owns you, June?”
“You do, Miss Pixie, I am yours!”
“Too right I do, slut!”
As Pixie sucked, and then, after calling her a slut, bit her left nipple, June lost it. She had been tensing for a few minutes, edging as Pixie’s words and actions took her deeper into erotic outer space, but that bite…
As she felt June begin to spasm, Pixie abandoned her attempt to edge and came too.
They exclaimed unison, as they came together in a huge orgasm.
“I am yours,” June said, as they came round, lying back, hugging and kissing.
“I know,” Pixie smiled, “because I am yours too! Thank you!”
“No, thank you, Miss!” June grinned cheekily.
“Now, as you have to get up before I do, sleep young lady!”
And that whole night they were not parted.
Pixie woke first, smiling as she noticed that June was snuggled into her back. Extricating herself quietly, Pixie slipped on a robe and went to the kitchen to make June a cup of her favourite mint tea. She would, she reflected, have to do something about June’s coffee supplies, much as she loved her, instant coffee was not to be put up with! She grinned to herself, there I am, she thought, already making myself at home here. That sent a nice shiver through her.
“Tea, my love,” she said, istanbul travestileri waking June from a happy dream.
June was sure she heard someone talking, but what? Oh the dream, it was a dream? Then she opened her eyes to see Pixie – with a cup of tea for her.
“Oh, it’s not a dream?”
“No, sleepyhead. It’s me with tea.”
“My dream girl!” June grinned broadly. “What’s the time?”
“It’s just six thirty darling, I know you have a bus to catch at nine-thirty, so I thought I’d bring you tea in bed. Can I get you some breakfast?”
“Oh, you are a keeper! Yes, some cereal would be nice, thanks.”
Pixie brought June her breakfast, and made herself a cup of coffee.
“What about you?”
“I am not much of a breakfast girl,” Pixie said, coffee and a croissant usually do me.”
“What are your plans, darling?”
“I thought I’d spend the morning looking round and talking to agencies about properties, and then a bite to eat? Then, alas, back to town.”
“Sorry darling, it’s Londoner speak for London!”
“You are funny, darling. I shall miss you.”
“Well, not for long, I hope. How would it be if I came back on Thursday and stayed a while?”
“Oh it would be just… great!”
And that settled it.
June recalled, as she lay next to Pixie, how that first week had been. How could she have imagined that Pixie was a dilettante?
Even when they met for lunch, Pixie had been active. She had, she told June, found a property down by the university and the river which would be ideal. She’d also spoken with a business advisor with whom she’d made an appointment for the coming Friday.
That had made their parting a little easier, but it had still been, she reflected, a hard thing to do.
Pixie must have texted a dozen times on her journey back, and they had exchanged long and sexy phone calls each night they were apart. But for both of them it had been hard.
But Thursday had come, and June smiled as she reflected on it, so had she and Pixie. It had been hot and steamy and urgent.
That long week following had been one when not only was their love confirmed and deepened, but when Pixie had shown how fast she could move. By the time Pixie had returned to “town,” she had been able to show June the old warehouse cum café she was going to buy, and talked with local suppliers and others about her venture. She put up a Facebook page called “Artwork Café,” asking local artists and potters for expressions of interest. Would they like to give classes? Would they like to use the facilities? What ideas did they have? To June’s delight, and amazement, Pixie was deluged with responses. She was most impressed at the way Pixie prepared spreadsheets and action plans. Her little lover was clearly also a practical woman!
Their parting had been hard, but only two days into it, Pixie rang.
“Darling, a question”
“Yes, what is it, you don’t usually call at lunchtime.”
“How would you feel about us living together?”
“Well, when you are here, we do, but I know you have to be in London, so why the question?”
“Because the agents have found an ideal tenant for my flat here, and they will pay the outrageous rent I am asking, but they want to move in within a week. I can get my stuff into store, but, well…”
“Well what?” June exclaimed. “You’re living here then, understand!”
And that, reflected June, had been that.
It was probably a good thing that Pixie had been able to move up so quickly, as things also moved speedily on the Café front. One of Pixie’s contacts at the university had expressed an interest in hiring out some of the space at the café for drama classes, which would, Pixie explained, give them a guaranteed cash flow for the first couple of years. Indeed, off the back of that, the local “new” university, which did more practical subjects, booked some of the old warehouse space for their weaving and pottery courses.
“That will be a huge help for us,” Pixie had explained.
“Us?” June smiled.
“Well, now we have the premises, and I can see some income streams, it’s time to focus on the bit I need you for, the Café!”
“I am assuming,” June teased, “that it will be Pixie standard coffee?”
That had become a standing joke between them. June had noticed that when she had returned on that Thursday night she had brought, not only the toothbrush and changes of clothes June had suggested, but her own coffee and stove-top coffee pot.
“Why the coffee?” June had asked in all innocence.
“Because, darling, gorgeous and sexy as you are, you have lousy coffee here!”
“Geeze, and me giving you free accommodation too!”
“Truth hurts,” Pixie had grinned.
June had also become familiar with Pixie’s other culinary skills. Who, she thought, would have thought that Pixie would be such a good baker? Her loaves, her scones, her cakes, her flapjacks, her granola, and her quiches were all, June soon realised, of a high standard.
“So you really are going to cook?”
“Yes,” travesti istanbul Pixie had said, that first evening when June had come back to find Pixie in her apron and the house smelling of fresh bread.
June and Cliff had helped Pixie with suppliers, and staff, and it was with mounting excitement that June watched things develop.
Pixie soon had a schedule worked out.
The main café would do breakfasts, lunches, and afternoon teas six days a week, the warehouse space attached, which had been transformed into an area where classes could take place, would be used by the two universities three afternoons a week, with space roped off for after-school mums and toddlers. That had meant hiring more staff, but as the demand was there, so was the money to pay them. June was quietly impressed with Pixie’s practical nature.
She remembered Pixie looking very excited one Friday evening.
“Darling, how do you fancy coming down to the café in the morning?”
“But the opening isn’t for a fortnight?”
“No, but, well,” she giggled, wait and see.”
Usually, June found that time of the month a frustration, but as she said to Pixie:
“Well I guess that given the time of the month, it will be me servicing you tonight?”
“No,” Pixie grinned back, “I came on this morning!”
“Geeze,” June exclaimed, “so we are bloody synchronising our periods now!”
“Well, that’s togetherness!” Pixie smiled back.
Pixie had been unusually tense that morning.
“Darling, I have to go a bit early, can you pop round about ten?”
“As we are both out of action, yes, will do darling.”
As she had walked along the river, June marvelled at the changes in her life in the last two months. Her mum had noticed, but until she was sure, June had not wanted to raise her hopes, but she longed to share her good news with her mum.
There seemed to be a bit of a buzz ahead, and as she approached, June could hear and see a jazz trio playing outside a building. There were tables and chairs outside and people milling round.
As she got closer, she could see more clearly. There seemed to be a queue, and then there wasn’t as the doors opened.
Above the door was a big sign, with a rainbow and the words:
The band was playing something jazzy, that, thought June, was Pixie.
As she entered the café, June’s nostrils were treated to the delicious smell of baking and fresh coffee. The place seemed full of students and arty types, but then as she looked closer, in the warehouse space there were things going on with kids and their parents.
She turned, and there, in cute black apron with the Café logo on it, was Pixie.
“Table for one Madam?”
“Just the one, at least until my lover is free.”
“And when will that be, Madam?” Pixie teased.
“That’s in your hands – as I am!”
“You like?” Pixie exclaimed, throwing her arms around June.
“I love, but is this the opening?”
“Nah,” Pixie replied, imitating June’s accent, “it’s a dry run, but so many people have turned up to see.”
“Well then,” June said, ever practical, “hold that tea and get me an apron – you need expert help, Boss!”
That had, June reflected, been a special day. The first time they had worked together, and it had been fun. It had also been useful for Pixie, as June was able to show her how to get the best out of her young staff, who were mostly uni students. Some had waitressed before, but others needed help, and June took them in hand.
Pixie had, truth to tell, been taken aback by the reaction to her announcement of a “soft opening,” and had been delighted that June had been there to steady things.
June watched Pixie bustle about, it seemed to her that she took particular delight in helping the mums and toddlers, but she also noticed that she took great pains helping the student waitresses. Once a teacher, June had reflected.
June had left in the early afternoon, and the two did not meet up again until June got back from the restaurant, tired after a long day.
Pixie was waiting for her, clad in nothing but a short robe.
“Upstairs, darling, I am going to massage you to sleep!”
She sounded so decisive that June smiled, nodded, and said:
Once in the bedroom, Pixie helped her strip, before lying her on the bed on her tummy. For the next twenty minutes, Pixie massaged June, using essential oils, and keeping the light down low with a couple of scented candles.
As June relaxed, she felt this was the perfect end to a perfect day. Her muscles felt good, and automatically, she opened her legs for Pixie, and felt her kissing her lower back, her thighs, her bottom, and then massaging her there, before repeating the kissing.
Pixie loved massaging June, especially this sort of massage, but she had a nice surprise for her lover too. As June parted her legs, Pixie took a vibrator she had found in June’s bedside cabinet drawer and pushed it gently into her wetness.
June, on the edge of either sleep or an orgasm, gasped as she felt something enter her. She grinned to herself; so Pixie had found it! As she felt the vibrations run through to her core, June knew one thing above all. This was it. She was no longer just June. She was Pixie’s, and Pixie was hers. It was, she moaned, June and Pixie – as she came hard for her lover, her life, her all.
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