2- do it exceptionally well

Scarlet slept a dreamless sleep, only to spend most of the next day at work blushing, trying to shove the last night out from her brain. She would get engrossed in a task, mind focused and honed, an olympic athlete mentally blocking out the crowds. Her mind performed at its peak, only to trip on the last hurdle and have a vague association to trigger a flash of bizarre erotica in her mind and a coincidental flash of red on her cheeks. Reading “best” on an email would evoke a breast, a bird call became a woman’s whining moan of pleasure. A woman jogging out the window in white spandex evoked a diaper, most embarrassingly. She excused herself often to the restroom to try and control herself.

Scarlet would breathe raggedly as she slapped herself and looked into the restroom mirrors, unsure of who was staring back at her. I haven’t even had a remotely sexual thought in months, have I been too depressed to notice? Was it the medication? She had started her antidepressants in a vaguely similar time. I can’t remember specific dates for anything on a good day! She squeezed her eyes for a moment, willing her memory to cooperate without the aid of her phone calendar for once. Nothing came to her. Not the last time I masturbated, let alone had sex, or the day I started the medication. Before that, my fucking hormones flared and had me almost feral with Barbara. A stab in her chest again. It had been a while even before they broke up. Pity attempts at reconciling through coitus that went nowhere don’t count.

When Emilia and Scarlet left for the day, Scarlet made sure to avoid her phone for the evening, lest the same material rear its self indulgent head at her. Scarlet let unpacking focus her mind instead, and much of the evening was spent unpacking her old workhorse laptop, more dishes, and the rest of her closet. Her precious collection of books had been butchered, sold for additional moving funds. The remains were stacked on her lone cabinet, one of a meager handful of furniture pieces. Her copy of Ariel, ragged with love and use and stained with tears, sat atop the neat pile. Scarlet tried not to focus on its missing companion; an equally well worn, notated copy of the Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson. It had not survived when she had split their… shared belongings.

Scarlet’s night winded down, so tired from the day and unpacking that she automatically did her skincare routine and fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. The next day would not be kind to the woman still trying to ignore how such smut made her feel.

The clock over the door struck one and Scarlet was at her desk. Emilia had a single meeting left on her calendar. The secretary was on a streak of definitely-not-thinking-about-it. Certainly not hiding flushed cheeks. Absolutely not keeping her legs tightly closed under her desk.

She heard Emilia’s door open, and her designer shoes clicked down the hall. Scarlet’s eyes went wide, a ghost of an image in her mind portraying Emilia holding her down. She shook her head, feeling the thought fly out of her brain and made sure she was presentable, and turned to face her. Emilia’s eyes were up, lost in thought, as she approached Scarlet’s desk.

“Scarlet, our next meeting is important for two reasons.” Emilia began, her eyes finally locking with her subordinate’s. She sat on the edge of the desk before continuing. Scarlet tried not to think about it extremely hard. Emilia’s long wide hips were within reach, and she fought to quiet a thrill in her chest. Her boss settled, a confident air radiating from an assured smile and intense eyes. No! STOP! It’s day three and you’re already fucking around on the job. YOU. HAVE. BILLS.

“The first reason is that he happens to be a good friend of mine. Chris, and to a lesser extent, his partner. They have been together for about six months but I’ve known him for ten years. It is not a perfectly neutral position I find myself in, but I try very hard to be impartial. And Lila knows that.” Scarlet tried to follow, getting the impression that Emilia was to some extent thinking out loud.

Why would someone need mediation with their girlfriend of six months?

Emilia continued before Scarlet could vocalize,“Secondly, you and I are going to be putting that ‘legal discretion’ matter I mentioned to the test. I would like you to sit in, and take notes. From the outside it may seem,” she paused, searching for her word with her eyes in the air above her, “atypical. However, taking detailed notes will help the process tremendously. Do you understand so far?”

Scarlet nodded, not expecting Emilia to ask her anything. She had so many questions, and her mind raced trying to find an appropriate boundary. How personal was too personal for a professional distance? Was she expected to make personal conversation? Sit here and keep working? Her head started to spin. Her modicum of self assurance from her first day had evaporated.

“Let’s just say it’s a…unique and private agreement, made between consenting adults.” The taller woman’s nonchalance astounded Scarlet, as if she had merely stated the sky was blue.

“Just keep a straight face, and remain professional. We can expect them any moment,” Emilia’s words each landed like a loaded grenade tossed to the younger woman. So many questions remained, and Scarlet tried to hide her confusion behind her work appropriate smile. Not too friendly, calm and confident. She had been told it suited her, and she found memories of blushing at a woman using Emilia’s same poised tone at a bar back home. Emilia checked an elegant platinum wristwatch, and began heading back to her office.

“Page me when they get here, escort them back.” She called behind as she turned, and Scarlet felt her mask drop at the sight of Emilia’s perk ass walking away. Her footsteps faded around the corner. She waited to hear the telltale office door click closed, and nerves still unsatisfied, she bit a knuckle to calm herself down. She definitely could not focus on transcription if that was what was all she could think about. She cursed under her breath at the sudden, impossible return of her libido after a dull, eventless few months. It was hard to want sex when you weren’t sure you could pay rent. She bit harder, just enough to barely leave a mark, and reminded herself she hadn’t been paid yet. She can find NORMAL porn or have NORMAL fantasies after she knew that she wouldn’t be thrown out on the street in a strange city.

As if orchestrated, the front door opened the moment Scarlet calmed enough to work again. A woman, around Scarlet’s twenty-nine, stepped in while a man held the door open in the hall. She was petite, and her bright blue eyes went wide as they locked with Scarlet’s. The woman panicked and turned to the taller man in confusion. By the time she looked back Scarlet was ready to greet her with a polite smile. It’s no different than library patrons, grocery customers or any other bullshit from being a barista.

“You must be Ms. Finch. Emilia told me about you. Lila, don’t be rude, say hi.” The man, all broad shoulders and muscle, prodded the nervous woman with a kind grin. He was head and shoulders taller than the blonde woman, but radiated the same compassion and excitement as a floofy golden retriever. Or maybe that was just the styled gold curtains that evoked a nineties hearthrob and framed a sharp jaw.

Lila gave a nervous wave and smiled. Her own blonde hair, closer to a bright Malibu Barbie shade, did nothing to hide a bashful red in her cheeks. Scarlet wanted to raise an eyebrow at his patronizing, but held back for a moment. She was distracted, seeing her own fears in Lila’s eyes, in spite of the girl's first impression. Her own anxiety, fear of saying the wrong thing in front of someone else, as if it had flown out of the secretary into Lila from moments before their arrival.

“Chris Arnold and Lila Smith, it’s a pleasure.” Her mask was returning, but she swore her own voice trembled. Should she stand? Shake hands? She settled on paging Emilia from her computer. She got back a message to lead them back and bring whatever she needed for notes. The ever present blade of Rent Due kept her legs from shaking.

“Emilia’s ready for you, follow me please.” She stood, gathering the weathered, hand-me-down laptop she brought for the occasion. She got a better look at the two as they followed her. Scarlet watched as Liila trailed slightly, hanging on Chris’s arm like she was going to drown in the marble tile if she let go. The man was taller than Scarlet and the woman only came up to her chest. Scarlet refocused, opening the door for them, and holding it as Emilia stood with a smile, pretending she just noticed them.

“It is so lovely to see you two again, how are you? Christopher. It’s positively been ages!” Emilia walked over to the tall man, somehow still the tallest person in the room with her elegant heels. They hugged with the distance of old colleagues who only met once a year. Scarlet watched, noting how everyone besides her seemed to be much closer to a runway ready wardrobe compared to her…how old was this blouse? She realized it was a subtly patterned one she’d bought before her interview at the library. Three years, four years ago? She took her seat in a chair on the far wall, behind Emilia, and began booting the laptop. Chris took Lila’s designer jacket, and Scarlet noted it was just a tad too big for her even with the oversized cut.

“Same to you! We’re so thankful you were willing to do this, Emilia.” Chris let Emilia loose from his arms, and Scarlet watched the awkward handshake between her boss and Lila.

“And Lila Smith, I do adore your hair. Are you settling in from the move?” Something irked her about the way that they interacted, like Lila was an afterthought. To Emilia’s credit, she made the effort to grab Lila’s tiny hand in both her’s, and make an attempt at personable smalltalk. Lila barely squeaked out one word answers to Emilia’s interview.

“Wonderful. Now that the pleasantries are done,” Emilia clapped her hands and leaned back, sitting on the edge of her desk, “shall we resume our business? I would implore the two of you to not bargain, bluff, or otherwise try and coerce one another. Understood?” Chris and Lila sat in the two padded seats across a small table in the middle of the room. Lila produced a folder.

“We, uh…” She started speaking, and stopped. Scarlet looked up, seeing she was passing the folder to Emilia, but cut herself off when she noticed Scarlet again. Emilia took the folder, and began leafing through it before noticing Lila’s discomfort.

“Oh, dear? If you are uncomfortable speaking on such…delicate matters in front of a stranger, I assure you that Scarlet here is bound to the same discretion as I am.” Lila looked over to Chris for assurance, and he merely smiled softly and reached out his hand for hers. Her hand leapt to his, and she spoke.

“It isn’t anything personal, I promise. I’m just…private.” She whispered.

Chris nodded sagely.

“We made a copy of the original contract and made notes on the things we’d like to change moving off of the trial.”

Scarlet tried giving her a smile in return, and zipped her own lips closed with one hand for Lila’s benefit. Remain professional….no matter what you hear. Lila seemed to relax as Scarlet’s fingers went to task of bulleting Chris’s points.

“I see. So in red here is you and…” Emilia began, scanning a document deeper in.

“The pink pen is Lila, yes.” Chris answered, chuckling a little under his breath at Emilia’s smirk and Lila’s subdued blush. “Is there a good place to start? Should you lead, or us?”

“Start with whatever you think is most important. Lila if you feel strongly about something you are welcome to start. Remember, we’re here to reach an agreement where everyone is happy.” Emilia circled around to sit at her desk, and neatly separated three copies of a stapled document from the folder. While Emilia organized her thoughts, Lila repeated her scared rabbit glance to Chris, and took a shaking breath before speaking.

“Miss Kane,” Emilia cupped her chin in one hand and turned to face Lila, “I thought I wanted it, but I’d really like to remove the ‘plug clause.’” Scarlet typed away, Lila-no more plug clause. Chris laughed and leaned in to whisper.

“The BUTT plug clause?” Scarlet’s eyes went wide before she got them under control. Emilia gave a quick glance from the corner of her eyes, reminding Scarlet of her place.

“Sorry, I…uhh…know you like it. Maybe on off weeks? That, and… I’ve been wanting to try… twenty-four-seven in diapers.”

Scarlet stayed wide-eyed and silent. The room exploded with voices overlapping.

“Are you serious, babe?”

“I’m sorry…”

“Lila, don’t apologize in mediation, it’s nothing to be sorry for-”

“You want MORE?”

Scarlet tried typing rapidly, the clacking getting louder as her fingers joined the uproar in the room. Emilia stood from her chair and with a deadly look silenced the couple.

“We are *far* off track. I told you, you were ‘equals, honestly negotiating’ here. I made you two promise me. Chris, you are paying for my services no matter if you listen to me or not.” The two looked away, abashed as children in the principal’s office. Scarlet was listening, but had to strain over the sound of her heartbeat in her ears. What are the fucking odds?

“Chris, if you want to explain? You owe that to your Submissive in exchange for her trust.” Emilia scolded, seemingly stepping into the role of a punitive schoolteacher. He nodded meekly, and the couple made eye contact again. Scarlet got the sense she was prying on a session of couples counseling. “And Lila, please, do not apologize. It will not do you any good.”

The negotiations continued, Scarlet’s head still spinning as she tried to glean enough details to understand and take adequate notes at the same time. The couple were Dominant and Submissive, but those terms meant little to her as someone who was fairly plain in the bedroom and never had an affinity for a certain popular yet overwrought BDSM movie. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, she certainly let Barbara be in charge in the bedroom. That cursed video she had seen the other night certainly was related to all this. Every single one of the dozens of line items in their “contract” was as intense as the last, and the one before, and all the way back to the …diapers.

Twenty-four-seven?

Thinking of that is what caused Scarlet’s fingers to lock up and her cheeks to go red. Of all the fucking things that could happen today, she clenched her jaw, looking at the clock in the corner of her laptop. They had already been at that for hours, and it certainly felt like it in Scarlet’s lower back. She prayed they remembered how long their meeting was, even if they were two thirds of the way through. Debating, explaining, pleading, pouting, the meek woman and the gentle but…controlling man went through things Scarlet only partially understood from context. Scarlet’s phone beeped and buzzed from a notification, drawing her back to the present as she silenced it with a flush of her cheeks. Thankfully, it seems that was the impetus Emilia needed.

“You’re right.” Chris sighed, and stood, picking up his and Lila’s coats. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier, Lila. I just wasn’t expecting it.” He offered her his arm, and she took it, nodding to him, to forgive. Scarlet sat there, dumbfounded with her ass falling asleep. They waved goodbye, and Scarlet could only numbly wave back, and once again she was drawn back to reality.

“I can tell that was unusual for you. I understand. You’re already done for the day, you can clock out if you want. Email me the notes and we can talk in the morning.” Emilia coolly leaned back in her office chair, almost imperceptibly giving away her own exhaustion. The two had made it hard on her, and Scarlet couldn’t imagine doing this for work for the rest of her life. Well, maybe her usual clients weren’t this…deviant? Hedonistic? The word escaped her. Scarlet nodded, sending the notes from her work email, and left as quickly as she could. Her brain would not stop replaying the moments again and again as she rode in the back of the car. It was the most bizarre cab ride back to her apartment she’d ever had. So far.

The apartment was starting to enter that space between “motel room on the side of the road” and “hotel for a multiple week work trip.” It still certainly wasn’t home, but it was losing the foreign, transient property it had the first two nights. It was that liminal state that she now had to ponder the most surreal work day. Scarlet sat in her dining room in the rickety chair that was in the apartment when she moved, head in hands and mind racing.

What the fuck have I gotten myself in to? She went for the cheap wine again, a moscato so sweet it was another dose of the juicebox and nail polish remover. It was really growing on her. It relieved the tension in her neck and she felt like the surreal end of her work day was a mile away. Scarlet’s evening consisted of her skincare routine followed by a cheap, long expired face mask she found in the bottom of a moving box. Lying on her bed and halfway through her second glass, she got the urge to open a private browser on her phone again. Her hand shook, this time surely from nerves, as her fingers hovered over another appealing thumbnail. She had to close her eyes in order to click it.

A doe eyed woman, curly brunette hair rolling down her back, was in cute pink cuffs and bound to the ceiling. A colorful, patterned diaper was wrapped tightly around her midsection, and her legs spread by some plastic pink bar. Scarlet watched her plead and whine, begging to be let out and Scarlet felt that familiar excitement in her chest. Another woman approached, mocking the brunette for wearing the diaper, calling her all kinds of tantalizing and patronizing pet names.

Honey.

Darling.

Babygirl.

Scarlet allowed her hand to touch her hardening nipples through her shirt. The girl continued pleading as Scarlet’s breath quickened. It wasn’t until the girl called the other woman Mommy, that Scarlet felt her erection coming to full attention inside her panties.

The girl pleaded further, begging not to drink an entire baby bottle of water, bouncing from foot to foot, whining behind the rubber nipple to do as much of a potty dance as the restraints allowed. Her face was red, her eyes wide, and the other woman stood there, a combination of matronly affection and a cruel Mistress. Scarlet twisted her own nipple, and suppressed any thoughts that called this depraved.

“Just let it happen, be good for Mommy. Let me do everything.” The other woman tweaked and teased and rubbed as the girl lost control and began wetting herself. She loved it. She hadn’t felt so alive in a long time, heart pounding in her chest as it was now. She flipped up her skirt and-

The video didn’t matter anymore. Something about the motion, something she’d done a thousand times over the years, didn’t remind her of her own movements. They recalled a different set of hands. Softer, smaller than hers. Always short nails, she didn’t want to break them playing basketball. Sometimes she’d let Scarlet paint them, usually a navy blue or a nude.

Those were the hands that she saw in her mind. The ones she loved, adored, held with conviction from deep in her heart. Then she heard it, from inside her memory, the deepest part of her brain that revolted against her.

Just let me do everything, Lettie~

Tears welled, but refused to fall. Scarlet harshly threw her phone across the room, bouncing off the wall and onto the carpet. She wiped away the tears and buried her face in the pillow, muffling a pained wail.