14- love-apple

The instant Scarlet walked through the front door of her apartment, she felt the weight of the multi-day date land on her shoulders. It wasn’t uncommon for her, or most women who dated women from her understanding. Now that the date was over, she wanted to sleep by herself again. She wandered over to her couch to flop face first in exhaustion.

The performance was over, she had taken her bow and gone backstage. Now, in the safety and seclusion of her apartment, she could do little more to damage how Emilia saw her until Monday morning. Tomorrow morning. She groaned, mouth muffled by her pillow.

I need to do laundry, make lunch and dinner, make a shopping list for house keeping stuff next weekend, lay out my clothes for tomorrow, do prep work for Emilia’s meetings on Monday, her brain went into overdrive, the tasks now squishing her as they pressed her deeper into the couch.

No…no, I can relax for just a bit longer, she told herself, willing it to be true. Hell, it’s a special occasion—it’s not every day I get done with such an…’interesting’ date. Groceries can wait till tomorrow night.

Her phone quickly redownloaded food delivery, something she’d purged in the lead up to her move to save money, absently scrolling the local offerings. All the usual fast food, mixed in with things far out of her price range. Just when things seemed hopeless…a light rose on the horizon.

“Velasquez’s?” she dared not get her hopes up.

Many things had been left behind in her move from coast to coast. Among other things, California still had her blood family even if she didn’t speak to them. It also had her friends, many of the things she’d had to sell or donate before moving, and of course her ex-fiance. The only thing that had hurt as much as ridding herself of her keepsake belongings and relationships was the knowledge she’d never have a good burrito again.

But here it was, a beacon to her and only her, the West Coast Transplant. Few reviews, but each was eloquent and glowing, reasonably priced items but with mediocre quality photos. All the tell-tale signs of a hole-in-the-wall that was a secret local treasure. And by god, it was beautiful to behold.

Scarlet’s mouth began to water as she ordered. She sighed with satisfaction at a reasonable total, made a mental note to review it after, and got up to busy herself. No sense in being restless when she could at least attempt being productive.

She gathered a laundry basket, the same one that was falling apart from her former apartment in the Bay, and tried gathering up enough of her workwear from the previous week along with her date night outfit. She was preparing to navigate her building’s laundry room, when she caught her reflection from the bathroom mirror as she moved down the hall.

She blushed, allowing herself a shy smile, the mirror reminding her that she had ended up wearing Emilia’s shirt again. She was practically swimming in the oversized top, but it still managed to hug her curves to make her feel femme. Her smile spread in the reflection as she lifted the neckline to her face, attempting to give her reflection a coy, teasing smile from behind the material. When she got a whiff of the soft cotton, she got the barest hint of a scent. Lavender, fresh sheets, and peaches.

Smells like Emilia, she realized, unable to even attempt to suppress her smile.

Scarlet shook her head, but didn’t lose the fuzzy feeling the revelation brought. She decided to change into clean panties and a cute pair of high-waisted shorts, but stayed in the silly college shirt to enjoy the rest of her Sunday.

She got back to her living room, and decided to crack open the rest of her wine. Pouring a glass, she got out her work laptop and attempted to remember one of her streaming passwords.

She had put on clean and comfy clothes, poured a drink, settled on a show, and got everything just how she wanted when the food finally arrived.

The delivery app had shown her all the best signs of a perfect local restaurant. The sign of a perfect restaurant that traveled well? A greasy bag, lots of napkins, and the styrofoam was hot to the touch. She was in heaven.

She hit play, unwrapped her burrito, and took her first bite.

No. Now she was in heaven.

A good veggie burrito was hard to do well. Fast food selections ended up being rice and beans and low quality lettuce, lest you request a million add ons. This was expertly made. Seasoned sofritas, perfectly proportioned chipotle sauce, spicy salsa that wasn’t so spicy as to be distracting, and how do you make Mexican rice this good? Scarlet wanted to cry, feeling at home for the first time in her new apartment. Drinking shitty wine, eating a Very Good Burrito, and streaming a so-bad-it’s-good movie. Like she hadn’t left the Bay.

Almost.

The sickeningly sweet wine paired perfectly, clearing the pallet in her mouth and her memory, refreshingly kind, and slowly building a flush on her cheeks and with a pleasant buzz. It was allowing her to finish her food and make the trek down and back with her laundry with a tipsy smile.

The sun started to get low in the sky, the early autumn air turning crisp as it slowly darkened her windows. Scarlet decided she was craving a smoke now, and cleaned up after herself before making her way to her balcony. The lighter flickered in the wind.

“Fuck, I missed you,” she whispered after taking her first drag. She was speaking to no one in particular, save maybe the cat on the next balcony over. If she was honest with herself, she wanted to smoke more. It felt good, and not a lot had done that for her the past year.

Hell, I think I came more this weekend than I have in…the last six months?

But there was the fear of how indulging would affect her. A million anxieties swirled inside her heart every time she considered small joys. A cold wind grabbed her hair as it blew.

Have I truly gotten better, or just better at hiding it?

Emilia doesn't know me. She hasn’t seen it.

She isn’t obligated to stay if my brain goes bad again.

She tried to take a long breath and ground herself, but the thoughts just kept circling. She let out a deep sigh, and allowed herself a few final thoughts.

Might it be harder to date with her personal fragrance being the smell of smoke? Maybe her voice will get deeper and scratchier in an unsexy way, sounding more like a man than a husky, sexy singer like Scarlet saw for other women. Would she get sick like her mom had?

When the honeymoon butterflies die down, she’ll see me for my flaws, she finally concluded. If you don’t iron out the flaws, plaster over the cracks, then it’s just a mark against you, for all the issues themselves and your inability to fix them.

And I can’t promise that’s the last time I have a breakdown around her.

Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her shorts, allowing her to stop her spiral. She took another drag and checked, almost dropping her cigarette when she read the text. Scarlet wanted to spit over the side of the railing.

‘Went to our spot on the beach, can’t stop thinking of us getting drunk here when you first moved in. Miss you hon.’

“You bitch.” She wanted to tell her how she really felt.

“Missed me enough that you picked her, huh Nicole?” She didn’t think there were the right kind of emojis to portray being abandoned by a best friend.

The only person she’d been able to tell besides her psych about struggling, emotionally and with her relationship. And now, she was doing a pity check, and all Scarlet could feel in return was spite.

She went left, taking the high road away from Nicole and Barbara both.

‘Is it cheesy to say I miss you?’

She hit send before she could worry about sober consequences, and only had to wait a moment before ‘delivered’ blossomed to ‘read’.

‘As cheesy as fondue, but I like fondue,’ Emilia replied. ‘It was my pleasure, sweet thing. Thank you for a lovely weekend.’

Scarlet felt a wide smile, then looked around to make sure she wasn’t grinning like an idiot while on display for someone else to view. After confirming she was alone, save the orange tabby from next door, she giggled to herself and prepared a response.

‘YOURE the sweet one’ she typed, punctuating it with a blushy emoji smile.

‘We can both be sweet, silly. I trust you are behaving? I expect you to be a good girl even when I’m not around.’

Scarlet blushed again, crossing her legs. ‘yes ma’am i did laundry and ate, prepped for tomorrow.’

She rushed to correct herself, ‘yes mommy*’

Scarlet bounced in place for the duration of the heartbeats it took to watch Emilia text, reconsider, delete, and text again.

‘Good catch, Bunny’, punctuated by a small kissing face. Scarlet swooned at the pet name, torn on if she wanted to hear it from Emilia’s mouth right now or if that was too much sapphic yearning. There would be plenty of time for that later.

‘Thank you!’ she giggled as she typed, deciding to keep going, ‘what occupied your day?’

‘Meeting up with an old friend, Damian. You’ll probably meet him eventually.’

‘Gossiping about me?’ she teased.

‘I did tell him I had a lovely date with a lovely young woman. He understands that a Lady doesn’t kiss and tell.’

She blushed deeper, pounding her fist on the balcony railing in lieu of a squeal of joy. The cat slinked away, giving her a look.

‘whatr you and mystery mr damian up to?’

Instead of an answer, a pause, followed by:

‘Can I text you back after we get done? We’re paying the bill and I’d rather not make him feel ignored.’

‘Oh, yeah, of course. Don’t text and drive okay?’

She cringed again at herself, thinking, She’s a genius with more money than you've ever seen before and you think she needs you patronizing her? C’mon.

She huffed, and worked on finishing the cigarette. God she wanted another, but that’s how it always starts. Slopes are made slippery by vices. Or addictive chemicals at least. Why did I feel the need to patronize her? Patronize. Why can’t it be ‘matronize’? Ugh, you get dysphoria over the stupidest shit.

Scarlet got out a second cigarette, sparking so she could let the embers and smoke blow away, scattered like her thoughts.

Still can’t wear blue dresses.

The remainder flew by, ashing on a tray she’d brought from the Bay. Barbara didn’t smoke, and had no use for it, so Scarlet had packed it. She didn’t like thinking about her previous balconies, the one shared with Barbara or her depression cave of a bachelorette pad. Shivering as the sun finally finished setting, she put out the cherry and went inside.

Scarlet told herself she would be more diligent in keeping the ashtray clean. It was one of a million small things that started to slip once things started to get bad.

I wouldn’t have forgiven me for that many small things, either. That’s not even counting the Big Things. Too much straw and not enough camel.

She huffed to herself, mad at how quickly her mood soured. Scarlet remedied it by pouring more wine and sitting in front of her couch.

It had been how she’d always watched when her laptop was on a coffee table, but now it served as an additional reminder of how she’d coped yesterday. She scrolled back up, rereading the texts to recapture the blushy feeling of being Emilia’s plaything.

A commercial interrupted her reading and her show, and so she allowed her attention to wander, looking over her apartment. Even as it started to feel like home, it was still lacking. It felt desolate, stale, like a set missing a good prop master. It lacked heart. Her heart.

Decor she had picked out over years, now resting in peace with new owners or in some landfill.

One corner of her lips dipped into a frown. Her eyes scanned the blank, barren walls, and she eventually landed back at the multicolor tattoo on her arm.

Maybe I should get another pet.

Her phone buzzed again, and Scarlet’s face turned to a relieved smile seeing it was from Emilia.

‘Updated. I can voice text until I’m home. What do you think?’

A second message made her phone chime, and Scarlet struggled to identify the image Emilia had sent. Opening it, she recognized the last third of the test contract Emilia and her had hashed out together.

The new rule made her eyes go wide, the big bold number nine catching her attention immediately.

9) Scarlet will wet any diaper she wears unless given explicit permission not to. She cannot ask to be changed, checked or refuse to be checked nor changed. Emilia will change Scarlet at her discretion, but won’t allow leaking or rashes to the best of her ability.

She blushed, a small fear from this morning now confirmed by Emilia’s suggestion. It is just a suggestion, right?

She texted back in a flurry, ‘im not sure. you want that?’

Scarlet paced for a moment, and finished off her wine before finally getting a response. Each second between messages, her heart pounded under the ton of bricks Emilia had dropped. She forgot to blink until Emilia’s response finally arrived.

‘Your blush when you did it was just so adorable, how could I not? It was fun, correct?’

“Dammit, Emilia,” she whined to herself, just as frustrated at her girlfriend as she was that the wine bottle was empty.

‘Look, I said I didn’t want to, and even if I like bits of it, I dont want to do it everytiem!’ She felt her heart pound, and a mix of worry and anticipation filled her chest with a cold, sinking feeling.

Was she doing the right thing by standing her ground on this? She never would’ve worn a diaper without Emilia, and she was open to that going forward. Was this another thing Emilia would end up correct about? Her brain always ended up back at the same question; Why did Emilia even want me to piss myself so bad?

‘Is this a secret kink of yours? Cause you wanna handle my pee so bad it seems like you’re REALLY getting off to it’, she typed, hitting send to try and cement her discomfort.

A chime. A retort.

‘You didn’t seem to mind it once we were in my bed playing with one of my toys.’

To say Scarlet was split was an understatement. She didn’t know how to feel, still disgusted at the thought of her own urine covering her body.

She missed the vibrator and being in Emilia’s arms. Maybe not the other parts.

‘Okay, but I still get to say no, right?’

‘We agreed we’d try some things and if you liked it we’d talk about it as a rule. That’s all this is: consideration. I was certain you enjoyed it?’

Perhaps she’d been overly defensive. Getting tone from text was hard enough as it is, and she definitely could have been wrong, feeling pressured when it wasn’t there. And she had agreed…

‘And it’s okay that I don’t want to do it all the time?’

Her heart pounded in her chest, wanting more than anything for Emilia to be straight with her. She’d had a few no’s ignored this morning, afterall. The same kind of nagging doubts she’d had sporadically since Saturday morning had returned, but she couldn’t articulate it. She’d had a few no’s ignored this morning, afterall.

‘It says “unless given permission otherwise” doesn’t it? It’s just to make you blush and need mommy to take care of you.’

Emilia seemed sincere, and the logic seemed consistent. Her heart slowed down a hair, even as each beat gave a shiver of trepidation.

‘that s a little bit less daunting. I have to admit when I read it the first time it felt like way too much.’

Her hands shook. She quickly added, ‘You promise you’ll take care of me?’

She flipped the phone over and put it on the table, covering her face with her hands. The phone chimed, but she left it there for a moment before she could bear to turn it back over.

‘Until you say red, you’re my Princess.’

Scarlet let out a sigh of relief, a small blush on her cheeks as the tension in her body dissipated, smoke from an oven where her flesh was burned.

Before she could respond, she got a series of chimes from Emilia as multiple messages rolled in.

‘Just walked in. I want you to know I mean it. If you want to say red, then our little arrangement ends, no hard feelings, you get your check. I want you as my submissive as long as I can have you and not a second less.

‘I had something else I wanted to suggest related to the section on punishments, considering how the other afternoon went.’

Another image, another close up on their contract in her notes app:

a) General Accepted Punishments include but are not limited to time out, restraints, spankings, edging, orgasm denial, humiliation.

b) Under no circumstances are things like ‘the silent treatment’ or overt shaming acceptable punishments. Both parties reserve the right to update this list.

c) Being triggered is a valid reason to end a punishment prematurely.

A small sniffle, overwhelmed at the gesture. She could feel Emilia reaching out, the text on her screen just as tender and caring as how her girlfriend had held her that afternoon.

‘are you sure? doesnt that defeat the point of punishments?’

She didn’t need to wait long for a response. Emilia was still attentive, reading and responding to Scarlet’s worries.

‘Of course I’m sure. The point of a punishment is to be forgiven and learn from your mistake, not to bring up traumas. I wouldn’t have told you I want to keep doing this if I wasn’t.’

She hesitated, then let her fingers type.

‘i’m forgiven for breaking those rules? Just like that?’

‘Quite forgiven, I promise. And just to make it clear that things will be different in the future, a perfect example appears:’

Scarlet raised an eyebrow, not following Emilia’s logic. She wondered to herself, worried that this was a nicety, something insincere to placate her nerves. She fought the thought’s logical conclusion; is it really that easy to forgive someone?

Another picture, and Scarlet raised her eyebrow even higher. It looked like the cup Emilia bought her, sitting on the breakfast bar by where she’d been that morning. It took Emilia’s follow-up text to clarify.

‘You forgot to clean and put away your sippy of milk and it went bad. Did you know oat milk smells just as bad as dairy when it sours?’

“Fuck.” Scarlet released a mortified groan, cringing at herself. One step forward, one and a half back, she told herself.

‘Emilia, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, it was just an accident.’

‘That’s okay, sweet thing. This isn’t yesterday. You’re not getting shamed or spanked over it.’

She hesitated, turning over the words she was reading in her mind. Emilia had taken her on an emotional rollercoaster this evening, and she was a little disoriented between the buzz and her own nerves.

‘youre sure?’

‘Of course. I meant it that you won’t be getting shamed like yesterday. Besides, a spanking over every little thing takes the fun out of it.’

Scarlet sighed, relieved and happy that Emilia seemed to be on the same page.

She was still embarrassed to need such considerations, and she didn’t like the looming threat; either of them ever saying red would lead to the whole relationship ending…but if Emilia was going to be this attentive to how she felt about punishments?

Maybe this could work.

‘Thank you. I want you to know im still sorry, fwiw’, she typed. A deep breath of relief, happy the emotional weight lifted off her chest. Another ping kept her attention, and she realized how late it was getting, already past eight.

‘Well you’re still getting a punishment. Just not a spanking. And then you’re more than forgiven.’

She swallowed, nerves suddenly threatening to reignite.

‘Yes, Mommy.’

‘Good Girl. I want you to write lines for me, and send a photo as evidence of finishing them. 25 times, “Good baby girls always help Mommy clean up”. Make sure to keep the sheet so you can give it to me at work tomorrow.’

“Lines?” She couldn’t help but blink in disbelief. Scarlet hadn’t had to write lines since middle school, maybe even earlier.

More importantly, she wondered if this would really make either of them feel better. The circumstances were too similar to plenty of texts and annoyed reminders from her previous lives. She had gotten more than her fair share of warnings for overlooking “such simple and basic things”. The frustrated insults she started receiving afterwards had stuck with her.

‘Yes, Mommy.’

Was that really all she had to say? She felt a knotting, claustrophobic sensation in her chest as she recalled more and more.

‘Not that I’m complaining, she started, but are you sure that’s enough?’

A moment passed, she saw the small indicator that Emilia was typing and stopping and starting again, before finally Scarlet received a response.

‘Even good girls forget things, and it’s a mommy’s job to remind them. Does this have anything to do with what your ex said?’

She swallowed. Emilia was proving to have an annoyingly good ability to read her mind.

‘But im not ACTUALLY a child. I can take care of things. I wouldnt be a v good girlfriend if I couldnt. Im not going to be a baby the entire time were together and I dont think I want to be.’

Scarlet hesitated.

She deleted the message.

‘its what started a lot of resentment with my ex. She had to clean up after me. I was being disrespectful by leaving stuff in my wake.

‘i didnt do it on purpose,, I mean it.’

Scarlet decided to try and play more coy so she wouldn’t have to be this exposed going forward.

Scarlet ignored the chime of the stupid phone for a moment. She felt in over her head, frustration bubbling at having to share so much about her last relationship before she was ready. Emilia was owed that much, after her little meltdown. Finally, she faced the message.

‘I promise, you’re fine dear. Go find a notebook, you’ll feel better when you’re done. Trust me?’

She nodded as if Emilia could see her. Scarlet went to work scrounging up something to write on. She ended up settling on her notebook for work, and flipped to the last page of the legal pad to begin her so-called ‘punishment’.

She blushed, recognizing how infantile and embarrassing Emilia’s lines would end up being. She silently penned ‘Good baby girls always help Mommy clean up’, and marveled at how bizarre it looked in her neat script.

Her blush worsened at the implication. She was the ‘good baby girl’, and she had to be reminded of her few responsibilities when her mommy was around. She took a moment to cover her face, whimpering in frustration. Emilia is miles away, and I’m flustered over her making me write lines? She thought to herself. What the fuck is happening?

She got back to work, wanting the humiliating task to be done with.

‘Good baby girls always help Mommy clean up’

‘Good baby girls always help Mommy clean up’

‘Good baby girls always…’

She finished, marveling at how much her mood had changed. The wild changes in her mood had almost left her drained, but she in fact did feel better. The humiliation had largely worn off about halfway through, and it almost became meditative if she let her mind wander. Like letting your eyes go unfocused, Scarlet allowed herself to ignore Emilia’s implication. It was fairly easy, at least, until her hand started to cramp.

She had to lean back to frame the neat, organized lines for a photo on her phone. Twenty-five uniform lines, in delicate, feminine script.

‘Good girl! Does my princess feel better?’

She whined in frustration. Scarlet hated how Emilia was right.

‘Mostly. its not a big deal? And no spanking?’

‘Like I said, little girls just need reminders sometimes. And not unless you want one!’

Scarlet laughed at the smirking face added to the end. It was a poor substitute for Emilia’s dimples and predatory grin.

‘Maybe a fun one, but not over this.’

‘Well that’s all your punishment entails. You’re forgiven Scarlet.

‘im still sorry’

‘And you’re still forgiven, bunny. Cross my heart.’