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A Sanctuary of One by LongDarkRoad Chapter 4 I Do Not Confer Praise…

A Sanctuary of One

By LongDarkRoad

Chapter 04 I Do Not Confer Praise Or Blame, I Accept

As Julie sat at her desk, she shook her head as she remembered the morning’s breakfast, with both kids up and about and she and Christopher being cordial and pleasant. At some point, sooner rather than later, the two of them needed to have a good talk. With children involved, it wasn’t just about their needs anymore.

Which was ironic, Julie considered, noting that her mind had been on Courtney frequently this morning; talk about needs. And she needed to text the woman and confirm ‘coffee’ for tomorrow.

Glancing at the clock she considered; it was nine-thirty; she would meet with Jasmine and then Bryce over the next hour, hour and a half. She would text Courtney before noon.


Dr. White took a final look at his stitching; it was his pride, one of the things that made his reputation; he didn’t like to leave even a hint of a scar. He nodded at Claire, assisting as usual, that she could proceed with the woman’s recovery. Their eyes locked for a moment; it had been a busy morning, starting with the prep for this lengthy surgery at eight-thirty. They had really had no time to even chat.



Julie regarded her message again; was it too ‘light’; had she left it too open-ended? She didn’t want to sound desperate, although that was remarkably how she felt; if something happened and the meet was not a go, she would be very disappointed. She sighed and sent the text.


Courtney looked at the young (twenty /twenty-one year-old) woman sitting across from her and sighed quietly. This was the woman’s third time back here; she refused to press charges against her abusive boyfriend and had returned to him each time after staying and recuperating at the shelter. “So, I’d like to know Kayla, what do you plan to do this time?”

Kayla regarded Courtney, the bruised eye and puffy lip making a strong statement. “Will you, like, kick me out or sumthin’, you know, ‘cuz of what I say?”

Courtney shook her head gently, “No, there’s no way we’d deny someone help. But part of our work is counselling, whether it’s poor work habits, or drugs or abuse. We’re not your mom; we’re not going to punish you. But we do want you to think about your life. Your face looks worse this time than last, Kayla, and I still want you to have those ribs looked after. I know you’re in pain.” She said quietly, but clearly.

Kayla looked away, “But I just does stupid shit, yuh’know? It ain’t all Ty’s fault, yeah? I makes him mad, right?”

Courtney looked hard into the dark eyes, “No, it’s not right Kayla. Violence is never right…”

Kayla looked away, fat tears oozing from the corners of her eyes. “But what I gots to do, Bitch? I only works part-time and it’s Ty what pays most udda rent, hey? What I’m goin’ do, Bitch, when he kicks me out. Come live wit’ you, hey?”

Courtney sighed again. It was times like these she wished she smoked.


It was just after one-thirty when Julie’s phone chirped with a response. “Hi J., nice to hear from you. I don’t have a car, so, pick me up just after four?” An address followed.

Julie took a breath, amazed once again at what she was feeling. Had her heart ever beaten before when answering a call like this? She tried to remember back to high school and college; nothing. She could not recall a person, any person, who had had this effect on her.

Certainly when she had first met Aaron, or Brad or Patrick, she had been aroused by their attractiveness and the promise of sex, heightened (Julie acknowledged briefly) by her submission to some dominant role play (something she would never do for Christopher)-but it wasn’t like this response. And this was just from a freakin’ text message!

But it was of course who the text message came from. The woman who had typed the message had something, was something, that Julie wanted and needed. The Bomb, Julie smiled, thinking back to her youth. She could analyze it all she wanted, at the end of the day it was there.

“See you tomorrow,” Julie typed, wondering if she should say more, realizing it would just be babble, and deciding to just press send, and let her heart pound away as it wished. OMG, she thought to herself, heading to the restroom to wash her face; OMG.


Courtney finished the file on Kayla, noting that at least the woman’s boyfriend, who Courtney thought to be a thug, didn’t appear to own a gun; for now. She sent the man’s name to a police officer who was a good friend of the shelter, asking for a little background, if possible. Violent people are rarely violent with just one victim, Courtney knew; if the boyfriend had a record that might help to convince Kayla to take some action.

In her heart Courtney doubted it, but you never know if you don’t try. She looked at her latest text message and smiled; she was looking forward to her visit with her new ‘friend’ tomorrow; Julie White had accepted direction without question. A smile appeared briefly, and then Courtney was back to her paperwork.


Christopher glanced at his phone and noted four thirty-five, just as a gentle knock came to his door. “Come in,” he said with a smile, confident with who was there.

Claire entered, dressed in her own clothes, the white uniform now away. She closed the door and leaned back against it as White settled into his office chair.

Slowly, her soft hands slipped each button on her blouse loose from its hole; then tossed the blouse to one side. Her skirt came next, and soon it was lying on the blouse; neither White nor Claire had uttered a word.

The woman now turned and lowered her slip and then her panty-hose. She unclipped her bra, then turned back around, her hands over her breasts, although the orbs were not completely hidden, soft flesh peeking out above and below the hands. Slowly releasing her breasts, Claire’s fingers gripped her large, pink nipples and she tugged on them, then twisted them, as Dr. White sat transfixed, his tongue slipping out to moisten his lips.

She turned her back on him again, and slowly lowered her black lace panties, then bent forward and spread her ass, before kneeling and arching her back.

White rose and came slowly forward, stopping a foot behind the crouching figure, eyes fixed on the brown, fissured ring, sitting for him like a bulls-eye.

As she knelt, Claire remembered the night her husband had forced her to service his friends, urging them to take her anally. She had not allowed him to touch her, willingly, since that night.

But she still very much had her needs. And she liked Dr. White; very much. “Please take a picture, then use me,” she said, before placing her face on the cream-colored Ege carpet.


It was past ten, and Christopher and Julie were once again on their couches, drinking wine this time. They had compromised and had Elton John playing as they lounged.

Not sure why she was making this choice, Julie sat up and looked across at her husband, asking in an even tone, “So, how’s Claire doing these days?”

Christopher’s eyes registered surprise and caution for a second, and then the calm demeanor returned. “Claire my assistant, why do you ask?”

They sat in silence, as Elton sang goodbye to the yellow brick road, where the dogs of society howl, before Julie continued. “Yes, of course that Claire. I, um…” she paused and grimaced, “snuck a look at your phone the other day and saw a picture of her, I think her, and the texts of course. I’m assuming you’re, um, fucking her?” Julie noted that this blunt exchange was producing some anxiety, yet her heart was still not beating as it had earlier when Courtney’s message arrived. So strange.

Christopher sat, quietly. For some reason nothing that Julie had just said surprised him. “Would it, well, matter much if I was?” He asked.

Now Julie considered this; it had been spoken without any rancour; it was just a question. “Well, what matters is what we have, here; do you have, mmmm…feelings, for her?”

Like this was a verbal tennis match, Christopher now paused mid-stroke, then delivered a smash. “Did you have feelings for, let’s see, Aaron?”

Julie looked up with some wonder, caught by surprise; how long had he known? Replying with a soft backhand she asked, “What do you mean?”

He smiled, “I, um, had you followed. You spent a weekend with him, at the Colonial.” Christopher regarded his glass, knowing his shot had her off guard.

“You had me followed?” Julie asked, quietly, on her heels and forced to scramble. “But why?”

He looked at her, his blue eyes mild and not accusing, yet his shot well-placed. “I needed to know.”

Julie sat. Defence no longer an option, she came to the net. “Why, um, why didn’t you say something, anything?” She asked, looking down and noting her hand shaking slightly.

Christopher sipped his wine and answered as he looked out the window into the darkness, “You came back. There was no need.” They sat again in silence. “As you said, what matters is what we have. I don’t believe anyone can completely satisfy another. Certainly, um, sexually, I am aware of that. I’m assuming this fellow was good for you. You seemed, relaxed, content…”

Julie suddenly felt a stab of intense guilt, then anger. Anger at Christopher, for being so understanding, so mild. So meek. Was this thing with Claire some kind of revenge; is that why he left things on his phone?” She asked him that, having lost the match and wanting to provoke a reaction.

One of Dr. White’s attributes was that he was  essentially thoughtful. “I’m not a vengeful person, Julie. I know you know that. I didn’t delete the messages, etcetera, because I enjoyed them. I don’t love Claire, at least not love, love. But I do like her. And she arouses me, for some reason I can’t grasp. And I did think it was fair, though, that you have your secrets and I have mine.” He paused again and looked at her, directly. “I don’t want to leave you, or to have you leave me. I don’t want that.”

Julie sat in confusion, then went over and sat beside her husband, gently grasping his hand. They sat in silence.


Feeling strangely disconnected, Julie went through the morning rituals before leaving the children with Angel who would get them on the bus. The breakfast conversation with Christopher had been polite and surprisingly pleasant, considering their previous discussions. They had slept on their own sides of the bed through the night and there had been no touching.

As usual Christopher was up first and downstairs before Julie arose. Both children were also up when Julie came down, so ‘normal’ was what she had needed to be.

Now as she sat at her desk, her mind was on the discussion as well as her meeting later with Courtney; she was holding her phone in her hand, considering the bizarre idea that had come to her mind. What the hell, she thought, as she typed in the text for Christopher.

“Hi, Dear. Last night was heavy but…helpful. I think we both need to say ‘sorry’, probably several times. I don’t want to leave either. I don’t. We need to work through this.” She had no idea what his day would be like or when he would see this message; three minutes later however, a response chirped back; clearly he was at his desk.

“Hi right back at you. I know we both have been holding secrets and keeping things buried. But we have many years invested in each other and our life, and there is caring and love, I still believe. Maybe we just try for a little more honesty; both of us?”

Julie read this and could not push away her invasive idea. “Yes, I agree. Life is not a long, straight road, there are curves. Will you be with Claire later; I am not angry? I will not be angry if you say yes. This is me being more honest.”

“I could be. We were ‘together’ yesterday. Why?”

Julie sat. She realized with surprise that this conversation was actually moving her; her heart rate had increased as well as her breathing. Was she being turned on? She plunged ahead, “I want you to let her suck you tonight and I want you to take a picture of that and send it to me. I know how weird this sounds Chris, but the thought well, gets me going. Weird? Freakin’ weird.”

After she pressed send she felt light-headed, almost giddy. This was possibly the most explicit the two of them had ever been, even considering when they were actually, well, screwing.

“Wow!” Surprised face emoji. “That blows my mind. And kind of kinky, Dear. Well, very kinky. I don’t think Claire will object. I’ll try to pull this off; it’s not my style as you know but I do like it when you are happy, my love.” Sappy smiley face.

Julie laughed out loud, then texted, “OMG!” Blushing smiley face. “Maybe a little kinky is what the…doctor ordered.” Shy smiley face.


August 2010

The summer class had finished with their exam and Professor Martel had invited the small group back to her Midtown condo. Although they were all under twenty-one, she had some beer and wine and it had been a pleasant evening; and now her guests were departing.

Courtney Farrell came out of the washroom and looked around for her handbag.

“You haven’t finished your wine, Courtney. You don’t need to rush off, you know. We can continue to talk,” Martel said quietly.

Courtney looked at the pleasant, middle-aged woman. She was small and business-like with her dark, brown hair, trimmed short and combed back, almost masculine. The two had somehow wandered into a discussion of Courtney’s past, somewhere she never went. Maybe it was the wine? Maybe Martel’s comforting voice?

Courtney had quietly told the woman of her rape, an event she had never discussed with anyone besides her mother, who hadn’t wanted to hear. This woman had been caring and had not asked any questions about ‘Courtney’s role’; unlike her mother. It had felt good to get everything out, but now Courtney felt embarrassed.

“Please, Dear, I know what it took to share your story. I would really like you to just stay for a bit longer. Please. At least finish your wine.”

Courtney smiled and sat back on the couch and picked up her glass. Martel came and settled beside her, stroking the long, elegant hands with her own short, soft ones.

“Do you play the piano?” Martel asked, quietly.

Courtney shook her head, “No, but I wished I did, sometimes,” she murmured.


As Julie sat now, emotions flowing, the comment Christopher had said about ‘kinky’ came back, and her response about ’maybe a little kinky’ returned as well. With sudden inspiration, she typed an email to Jasmine. “Hey, consider this ad for our new client. Picture a business woman, forties, smartly dressed, maybe sitting on a bench and she’s thinking, Maybe a little kinky is just what I need. And then below the text ‘Maybe anal.minds is just what you’ve been searching for’…”

She sent it off and sat back with a smile on her face.


August 2010

Courtney had finished her glass of wine; her second, and was feeling mellow. It was past twelve and she and Martel had talked about a number of things. As she settled her head back against the couch, she was aware of Martel gently stroking her left arm; it felt very nice. When Martel leaned over and kissed her, her first kiss from a woman, at least on her mouth, she accepted it.

Martel turned Courtney’s face and kissed her again, deeply this time, her tongue reaching into Courtney’s mouth, with her responding warmly.

For Courtney, this had been the first intimate contact since her rape.

She did not resist as Martel undressed her; and then she sat and watched as the professor undressed herself, before taking Courtney by the hand and leading her into the bedroom.


Bryce and Julie watched as Jasmine moved some images around on her screen; she was using stock photos for now, but they would hire a model of their choosing when they moved on Julie’s idea; but for now they at least had something to talk about.

“I like it,” Bryce exclaimed. “I like it, and I think they’ll like it!”

Jasmine smiled up at Julie, who smiled at Bryce.


Dr. White looked across the carpeted waiting area to where Claire sat at her desk, “Could I see you for a moment, Ms. Butler?” He said evenly.

Smiling, Claire rose and followed the doctor into his office, closing the door. White turned, “Um, I was wondering if you needed to rush off after work today?” He asked, fighting emotions.

Claire’s smiled broadened, “Nothing urgent tonight, Dr. White. Is there anything you…need me for?”

White grinned sheepishly and looked down. When he raised his eyes Claire was looking directly at him, her hands massaging her breasts. “Well, there are a couple of things I might like you to, um, check on,” he murmured.

They both smiled.


August 2010

Courtney sat at the strange kitchen table, the events of the night before turning in her mind. Kim Martel came up quietly from behind and put her arms around her. They kissed and Courtney chuckled; it was nice kissing someone and not having the feeling of entrapment close over her. She had not thought about kissing a woman, or anyone, for so long. It was like she had been living in a cave. But she knew one thing; she liked this.

“Please come,” Martel said, and then led the way into her living room. She sat Courtney down on a chair and then knelt on the carpet beside her, Courtney regarding the woman with some confusion. “Um, I really enjoyed last night, Courtney, and I’m hoping we can do some, well, other things.” Martel said quietly.

Courtney looked into the other’s dark eyes, “Uh, what other things?”

“Well, did you like what I did to you?”

Courtney smiled, “I thought you could tell,” she chuckled, remembering the moans and amazing (unbelievable) cries of joy.

Martel smiled too. “Well, I’d like you to do some things to make me feel good, too. I won’t push too much to start, let’s take it slow. Are you willing to try?”

Not sure what she was agreeing to, but feeling positive towards this woman, Courtney nodded. Martel stood and pulled off her sweater and lowered her jogging pants; she was wearing no under clothes. She lowered herself across Courtney’s knee, and placed her hands behind her back. “Please, Miss Courtney. I have been bad and need to be punished. Please spank me.”

Courtney sat stunned for a moment, but oddly aroused, looking at the lovely round flesh before her. Suppressing a giggle, she slapped one cheek. “Harder, please Miss Courtney, please,” Martel implored, beginning to grind her crotch against Courtney.

The next slap was harder, and the next. Five minutes later Martel, her ass reddened, was on her knees kissing Courtney’s feet, and the young woman’s life had changed course.


To Julie it seemed that the wall clock was broken. She had forced herself not to look at it as long as possible, and when she had, it was three-o-two. She had let time pass but was disappointed when next she glanced and it was three-o-seven. The hands had crawled along until now, past three-thirty, and she could begin packing things up. She had checked Google maps and figured at least twenty minutes to Courtney’s shelter.


Kayla signed the form and looked up at Courtney, “Yeah, thanks, hey. See ya’.”

“See ya’,” Courtney replied. She had received word from her police contact and Kayla’s boyfriend had a record but it did not include violence, yet. She watched as the young woman left, comforting herself with the thought that she had done what she could, and now she needed to focus on the other women under her care. She noted that it was almost four and that Julie White would be arriving soon. She was certain the woman would be prompt. She smiled.


“See you tomorrow,” Claire said to Danielle as the young woman smiled back before heading out the door. Chelsea came up the hall next a minute later and she too departed, leaving Claire as the last of the staff. She locked the front doors and headed to Dr. White’s office; it was only ten past four, she would have at least an hour with him, if he wished.


The coffee shop Courtney had directed Julie to was only a few blocks from the shelter and it had an outdoor patio, facing a fairly quiet side street. The two women sat now with a pot of Jasmine Silver Needle tea, Courtney’s suggestion.

Julie was trying desperately to make sense of the overwhelming emotions rolling through her. She wanted more than anything to put her arms around this young woman and smother her with kisses; she imagined burying her tongue in that lovely mouth, before burying her face between the rounded thighs of the long legs.

She had never felt anything like this before; she felt like a lit fire-cracker, about to explode. It was uncomfortable and disturbing, but exciting. “So, how has your week been, as you spin your stories?”

For a moment Julie thought Courtney might be referring to her marriage, but then realized it was about her job. She smiled, “We just try to make people aware; they are going to spend money on something, it might as well be on our client’s stuff.”

Courtney smiled in return, “And how have things been at home?” Julie shared the talk she and Christopher had had and what was revealed, and as Courtney commented, Julie’s cell buzzed.

Excusing herself, Julie opened the message, a photo that showed Claire Butler’s red lips encircling the shaft of her husband’s penis, buried almost completely in her mouth. It gave her an amazing jolt of desire, and she smiled into the green-blue eyes of her companion.

(End of Chapter 04)

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A Sanctuary of One by LongDarkRoad Chapter 3 Is To Surrender to Pleasure

A Sanctuary of One

By LongDarkRoad

Chapter 3 Is To Surrender To Pleasure To Accept Defeat?

Courtney was slowly working her way down Julie’s body, starting with the throat. She had just released one brown nipple and was moving to the other. Julie, her hands crossed at the wrists above her head, placed that way by Courtney, was slowly moving her pelvis, anticipating.

As Courtney’s soft lips travelled now down her belly and past her navel, Julie’s breath began to come in gasps, punctuated by moans. Courtney lifted her head and smiled; she was enjoying this immensely. She looked down at the dark tangle of curling, black hair that completely covered Julie’s crotch and spread upwards to her navel and back under her ass.

With a gentle hand she spread Julie’s legs farther apart and now placed her lips against the flesh of the woman’s inner thighs, her tongue tracing a delicious path upwards, until it ran along the moist inner pink of the dark, purple/brown labia, with Julie arching her back and crying out softly.

****      ****

Julie entered her home filled with strange emotions; coming home after her time with Courtney made every action seem…different somehow. She was actually dreading the thought of sliding in beside her husband, feeling the expected wave of shame, but even though it was again near midnight, he wasn’t home yet, which was strange.

Julie decided then to fill the tub, adding lots of bubble bath, something she had not done in a while. She placed her disc player to the side and put in the Spice Girls first album, Spice, then lowered her body into the steaming water. As she leaned her head back on the rubber pillow, she let her hands move between her thighs, her mind filled with images of Courtney.

The woman’s face, her lips; her tongue as it explored the crevices of Julie’s vagina; her long fingers as they probed and pulled; Courtney’s thumb circling the stub of the clitoris, and it rising with arousal.

Julie remembered the orgasm, the slow build, the unbelievable burst of pleasure. She remembered looking down at her hands that were lost in the mass of red hair of Courtney’s head, and then the woman’s face, coming up smiling. She remembered then how they had kissed; real kisses, deep, searching…wanton? Yes, wanton; a moment where time did not exist as she was lost in the body of another, surrendering absolutely to pleasure.

For it being her first time with another woman, it had been…spectacular; she still hadn’t really come down from it. Her player was now on the song ‘Naked’ when she heard Christopher’s steps and then the cautious opening of the door as he looked in. “Hi there,” he said.

“Hi there yourself,” she murmured.

After a moment he said, “I don’t suppose you want any company?”

She chuckled, “I have bath bubbles and the Spice Girls. I don’t think you’d be happy here.”

He chuckled from the hall, “No Jules, I can feel my testosterone draining from out here.”

They both chuckled and he headed off to the main floor and a shower.


Courtney took her morning tea from her tiny kitchen to her small living room and sat on her worn couch. It had been so pleasant in the hotel that she and Julie White had gone to last night. What would it be like to have lots of money, to have a large home and expensive cars, she wondered? Was there a way for her to continue with her ‘activities’ but maybe have a better quality of life? She picked up the business card sitting on an end table; FabModelsInc., it read.

She sat in thought, but her reverie was interrupted by a gentle knock on her door; one that brought a smile to her face as she knew who it would be.

She considered calling out, but stood instead and moved with a measured grace the short distance to her door. Opening it she saw her upstairs neighbor, Carolyn, an unassuming woman in her late thirties; soft, light brown hair tied back today in a ponytail; what she was wearing, however, was not what one would expect of a middle-aged house-wife mid-day. She had on a sexy, red lingerie set that featured a see-through bra, garter belt, tiny, red thong and dark nylons.

“Yes?” Courtney murmured, looking down slightly from her five-eight height advantage to the shorter woman. Carolyn did not look up into the lovely face that now held an almost haughty look, keeping her eyes cast downward instead.

“I saw you came in late, Miss Courtney. I’ve waited to come down. I hoped I might, s-serve you this morning, if you wish?” The woman spoke in a voice just above a whisper.

“Hmmmmm,” Courtney murmured, caressing the woman’s cheek with her delicate hand, sending a visible shiver down the woman’s body. “I see you’ve dressed the way I like you to.”

“Yes, Miss,” Carolyn said quietly, still focused on the floor.

“Well, I might have a job or two for you,” Courtney said quietly, allowing her housecoat to gape slightly, but enough to reveal the blonde/red patch of pubic hair. “You may come in, but you know how you should enter.”

“Y-yes,” Carolyn uttered, dropping to her knees.


Since they would be picking up the children this afternoon, Julie had been able to keep her mind off of Courtney, more or less. Even though Julie always had a feeling of tension when they visited, they had ended up staying for dinner with Christopher’s parents. It was always a feast, no matter what the occasion, so it was now almost eleven when she and Christopher had the chance to settle, with the children finally asleep.

They were lounging on couches, sipping whiskey; the lights low and the mood relaxing.

“How’d it go with your new, um, clients. I keep wanting to call them ‘pigeons’, but that wouldn’t be fair?” Julie smiled.

Christopher snorted, “Thank you for that. Yes, I don’t believe the Becks would appreciate the reference.” He sipped his drink. “It went well. We’re going to do the face work first, starting in ten days, and then the arms later. I also recommended a physical therapist to start with some light workouts, you know, part of the overall plan.”

Julie nodded, then lay back on the white, leather couch. ”So, I can get that new diamond necklace I want?” Julie smirked.

“Oh, absolutely, Dear. Get two.” They both smiled. “You’ve met some new…friends?” Christopher asked, mildly.

Julie hesitated, experiencing a response to Courtney’s face suddenly appearing in her mind. “What, you mean the drinks last night? Well, this group that meets has about twenty members, so I’m guessing I’ll be meeting many new, um, people. I don’t know that I would call them friends. It’s been, ummm, a long while since I had a woman I could girl-chat with.”

They sat in silence, before Christopher got up to put an album, a real vinyl album, on their turntable; a genuine turntable. In keeping with the whiskey and the mood, the album was Frank Sinatra. Not one of Julie’s favs, but she would put up with it because Christopher did not make a fuss over her choices; none of which he enjoyed. ‘Girl bands’, he had commented to Claire one day when she’d asked, and she had nodded with understanding. Returning to the couch, he felt his phone vibrate in his pant’s pocket. Glancing over at Julie, he noticed her eyes closed, so he cautiously withdrew his device and opened his message. It was from Claire, saying simply “I wish I was with you.” Sad faced emoji.

Smiling, he texted back, “Why??” Smiley face emoji.

In a moment the gentle buzz indicated her reply, “So I could make you feel good, Doctor White.” Two smiley face emojis.

Christopher glanced over again at Julie, who seemed to have drifted off. He typed, “And how would you possibly do that, Ms. Butler?” Surprised face emoji.

Three smiley faces preceded the responding message. “Oh, mostly by sucking your cock like a vacuum, then swallowing all your hot cum. Although I’m hoping some day other parts of my body might please you.” Face with eyes closed demurely.

As he read the message, and noted his growing arousal, he also noted movement from the other couch, and slipped his phone back into his pocket as Julie roused herself. “Mmmmmm, gawd, I dozed off. Wow. I think I’ll just crash,” Julie muttered, finishing her drink and standing.

“Good night, Dear. Sleep tight, although I’m not sure what that means,” Christopher murmured.

“It means I should have a couple more whiskies before I crash,” Julie said, chuckling, as she headed up the stairs.

Christopher retrieved his phone, feeling like a naughty school boy, and quickly typed, “What parts would that be, Ms. Butler? I am confused.” Smirk-y face.

In a moment a message with a photo came to his phone. It was clearly a woman’s vagina, with thick pink labia and a generous covering of light brown hair. Accompanying the picture was the message, “My pussy, for one.”

Winking face.


Sunday proved to be a difficult day for Julie; she did take Noah and Abigail to the park for an hour and then got some work done on an ad for Honda; two of their models were in the top twenty sellers and the feeling was that with the right push they could go higher. Julie’s problem with any vehicle was which way to go; environment or style…or both, and try to sit on the fence?

But her thoughts and her work were interrupted frequently by images of Courtney, and memories of her touch, her scent, her taste.

Julie had experienced some good sex in her life, or at least she had believed that she had; but she had not experienced this…feeling; this haunting. She had not been plagued by Aaron or her other two partners. It had happened; she’d got what she wanted and moved on, even if she did meet them later, they didn’t settle in her mind.

After dinner, as Christopher was going over information for a Monday morning consultation, and Angel was supervising bath times, she texted Courtney. “Hey there, just thinking of you,” was the message, with no emojis; she didn’t use them.

Then she sat, and as the minutes passed, she was reminded about the frustration with texting; waiting. She took her phone with her when she went to pour herself a glass of wine. The reply came back as she returned to her desk.

“Hi Julie. Tell me what you’re thinkin’.” Smiley face.

There’s a damn smiley face, Julie considered, now what; would she need to use one? But her excitement far outweighed any annoyance, as she typed, “Just thinking of how nice it was. Well, much more than nice.” She went with a winking smiley face.

It was again several minutes before the response came back, causing Julie to wonder if she was being played with, but when the message arrived, that was all that mattered.

“What part did you enjoy most, babe; me eating you or you eating me?” A blushing face.

Julie laughed in spite of herself. “Both. But I cannot believe how I enjoyed (she paused, for some reason finding it difficult to type this part; she took a breath and plowed ahead) eating you.” Regular smiley face.

Five minutes crawled by, and then, “So, what now, Julie White?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? What now? Did she even know? She felt excitement and anticipation whenever she thought of this young woman, who she knew so little about. She wasn’t even entirely sure where Courtney worked, although it was a woman’s shelter of some kind. Where did she live?

No, all she had right now were emotions and desire; she needed more. “Well, I would like to get to know you better?” She typed, with no faces.

To Julie’s surprise, her phone rang two minutes later, “Hey, Babe,” came the lovely voice.

Calming herself, and unconcerned about Christopher or anything else, Julie replied, “Hey yourself. Tired of texting?”

Courtney chuckled, “I thought this would be faster. And besides, I wanted to hear your voice.”

A warm feeling spread through her body at these simple words, the voice seeming to caress her, and Julie worked to keep her voice and breathing calm. This was completely new territory for her; was this what a crush was like, she wondered, partly in amazement? “Well, I love to hear your voice too, it’s just difficult here, at home”. Julie replied softly.

“I get that, so I’ll keep it quick. Wanna hook up this week, like for a coffee, or tea in my case?”

Julie did not need to ponder this, “Yes, ummmm, do you have a day in mind?” Julie’s mind began furiously considering her schedule.

“How about Wednesday after work; I can be off at four? You text me in the next day or two if that’s what you want.”

Julie smiled, “Sure, I’ll do that. Um, great to hear your voice, and I’ll, well, be back in touch.”

“Later, Babe”. Courtney murmured, and then the call ended. Julie sat, just staring at her laptop screen; then she brought up her schedule and put in the meeting. Wednesday, she thought, three days.

On her couch Courtney sat, a curious smile on her beautiful face, her hand between her thighs.


Claire brought in the files for the nine-thirty appointment and laid them on Dr. White’s desk and as she turned to leave the doctor’s door opened and he entered. The two stood looking at each other, smiles on their faces. “Who else is in?” White asked.

“Chelsea is in ops setting up the instruments. Danielle will be in at one.” Claire said succinctly, the smile remaining on her face. “You enjoyed the photos?” She asked, her smile broadening.

White moved a few steps to stand directly in front of his assistant. “I loved them. They brightened my evening and yesterday.”

“Would you like to take a few of your own?” Claire asked, raising her white uniform’s skirt to reveal crotch-less pantyhose.”

White leaned forward to plant a deep kiss on Claire’s mouth. He straightened up and smiled down at her, “We’re done today at three-thirty. If we can get everyone out promptly I would love to take some shots, my choice of poses.”

Claire lowered her skirt and grinned. “Wonderful. I look forward to it. You can pose me however you like, I won’t say no.”

White moved to the wardrobe to hang up his coat and retrieve his smock. “That’s wonderful…Ms. Butler. Now we need to focus and get ready for Mrs. R.”

“Absolutely, Doctor.”


Julie’s direct supervisor came into her office and placed a folder on her crowded desk. “Take a look at this and see what you think. It’s new territory for us.”

Julie opened the folder for a peek and saw some photos of naked or semi-naked girls. She looked up at Bryce and asked “Anal Minds?”

Bryce looked a little sheepish and shrugged, “The Porn biz is very competitive. They need promotion just like everyone else.”

“You’re comfortable with…this?” She asked raising her eyebrows.

Bryce shrugged again before he turned to leave, “Let’s talk; let Jasmine have a look, I’m keen on her take.”

Julie looked through the information and the photos, then turned to her computer and sought out the site. Most companies have a policy about employees accessing porn at work and here she was being encouraged to do that. She chuckled and shook her head. It might at least get her mind off Courtney. Or not, considering the subject matter.


Christopher White looked again at the woman as she turned ninety degrees one way and then the other. “And what is it that you are unhappy with, Ms. Ruska?”

The woman looked up at the doctor with her hazel eyes, which, like the rest of her face, Dr. White thought, were totally acceptable. Ruska grimaced slightly and said, “I just think I look, oh, hawkish. I think I need softening. Cost is not a factor, Dr. White.”

“Mmmmm, that’s fine, no need to talk costs just yet.

I’m just wondering about the need. I find your face symmetrical and without, mmm, issue. I would be reluctant to make any changes. Just my opinion.” The doctor smiled.

Ms. Ruska sighed, “People say you’re the best around. I really don’t want to go to someone else.”

“How long have you been considering…surgery?” White asked gently.

“Oh ages, simply ages, Doctor. This is not some impulsive decision.

White thought for a moment; this was not a new scenario, he had had other women come to him for unneeded alterations; he refused to do them. “Can I show you something?” He asked.

Ms. Ruska nodded, with slight hesitation. Dr. White stood and walked to a set of cupboards, opening them and taking something out. It was an instant digital camera, and he returned to Ms. Ruska and had her turn her head and pose for several shots, all of which he rapidly developed.

White then brought over a moveable chart board, placing the photos onto it. He then took a ruler and spent the next five minutes showing Ms. Ruska how almost perfect her face was. “It’s not just my opinion, Ms. Ruska; you can see for yourself. There is nothing for me to adjust or fix. Here…” He passed her a card. “Call her. She’s very good. But then kindly call me, I wish to follow up with you.”

Ms. Ruska slowly made her way to the door, turning when she reached it to smile up at the tall man. “Thank you. I, um, I will call you. I promise.” They shook hands and the woman left.

As White settled into his chair, Claire came to him and kissed his face several times. “Whose card was that?” She asked.

White looked at her mildly. “A therapist I use. This woman has a problem with her head, but it’s inside. Dr. Thorne can work wonders with that kind of deal, and it will be a lot less money.”

“You’re wonderful,” Claire murmured, gently squeezing between the doctor’s thighs. “Remember, you’ll need that camera for after work.”

White smiled. “No need to remind me, Ms. Butler. I’m looking forward to it.”


Julie lay the folder down on Jasmine’s desk, one of four in the large office used by the technical assistants. She could guess why her boss had made this suggestion, as Jasmine was young, opinionated and open about sexual things. Even someone Julie’s age would have a different view on what the public could tolerate today when it came to using sexuality in advertising.

Certainly this company, BTRflash, functioned differently than Julie’s own company had. She knew she had made the right move, selling out and now working for salary and watching her company stock rise. BTRflash was much more innovative; she certainly would have never considered a pornography site as a client.

“Naked women, yeah, that’s some mad shit right there and I like it so far,” Jasmine smirked, “so what am I looking for, Mom, besides my own, like, shit?”

“This is our new client,” Julie smiled.  

Jasmine looked up, her partly-shaved head and purple black hair making her look, to Julie, a little like a peacock. “You’re dead-ass on this, Mom?”

“Uh, yeah, definitely, like, dead-ass,” Julie chuckled. “Bryce wants your perspective on it; I’m guessing our aim is younger; using slang and a certain attitude?”

“Like me, yeah?” Jasmine grinned.

“Yeah, like you. Kid.” Julie grinned in response.

****      ****

Julie was upstairs reading to Noah; she had just started so he had some time, Christopher pondered, as he retrieved the envelope from his case and began looking through the shots of Claire. Her body was definitely heavier than Julie’s, Christopher considered, so he wasn’t sure why it aroused him more than hers. Maybe a matter of, well, time? Or his past?

They had been married more than ten years, and certainly familiarity had set in, but it was more than that. Claire’s heavier breasts and hips pleased him greatly for some reason, and he had taken several shots of Claire from behind. She had responded keenly, pleasuring herself with one hand as he watched and took photos.

He looked at one shot in particular; Claire on her knees, face turned against the off-white carpet and looking back, although at the moment of the shot her eyes were closed. She had most of her hand inside her vagina and her mouth was open. Christopher closed his eyes and remembered her moans and then her soft laughter.

After a few moments she had crawled over to him and sucked him to climax. It had been wonderful, and sadly he couldn’t recall the last time he could say that about Julie and him.



It was almost eleven and Christopher was in the shower, heading soon to bed. Julie was drinking some relaxation tea and trying to focus on Jasmine’s notes. It was hard first of all just to decipher the ‘writing’, as Jasmine used some sort of printing/cursive hybrid in a back-slanted style. Julie at times found herself turning the sheet to try to figure out a word; but at least the young woman had made some points about ways to separate one porn site from a thousand others.

Her suggestions involved the always essential increase of the site’s SEO, but being that it was intended for adults, that limited some of their options. “Look at,” Jasmine had suggested, naming a successful site. When she visited the site, Julie was astounded at how long it had been around and that she had never even heard of it. Amazing.

But, try as she might to focus, Courtney’s face kept forcing its way into her thoughts.

Impulsively putting down her notes and getting to her feet, Julie made her way upstairs to their bedroom, the sound of the shower still strong. She hadn’t checked in a while, she considered, as she picked up Christopher’s phone from the night stand. She opened the messages, checking to see what was happening between her husband and his buxom assistant. She thumbed through the explicit texts and then went to the photos, staring at the image of what had to be Claire’s vagina.

“Oh my God,” Julie whispered, noting subconsciously the water stopping, “Christopher is really into this…relationship.” She closed everything off and placed the phone back.

Heading back downstairs she decided she was still okay with things; her sexual interest in Christopher was almost nil these days and that wasn’t fair, and Claire was not really a threat to their marriage.

I wonder if he doesn’t delete his messages because he wants me to see them? She pondered. And then, I wonder if Claire’s going with him to New Orleans?

(End of Chapter 03)

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A Sanctuary of One by LongDarkRoad Chapter 2 When One Touches Life

A Sanctuary of One

By LongDarkRoad

Chapter 2 When One Touches Life, One Is Always Wounded

Focusing on work this morning was difficult Julie found, although she had come up with something for that challenging Aduval product. Making incontinence medicine attractive, or at least interesting, was headache-producing.

Into her mind kept flitting the young, attractive face of Courtney Farrell, and the events of the previous evening.

After the surprising kiss, the woman had smiled, stood, wrote her cell number on a napkin, kissed Julie again, on the cheek this time, and headed off.

Julie’s taxi ride home was short, but still filled with a mess of conflicting emotions. Upon arriving, she was suddenly concerned that it was almost midnight and she experienced a stab of guilt, which she shook off, preparing herself for bed in the small bath on the main floor.

Coming into the bedroom, she stood and regarded Christopher, sleeping on his side as he always did, away from her; which she was okay with; preferred actually. She slid in gently on the other half and turned on her side. Despite her efforts, that smiling, attractive face haunted her thoughts until she finally drifted off.

When she woke, Christopher was already up, although she was certain he didn’t need to go in until late today. She found him in the kitchen reading something on his laptop, his breakfast already finished; their daughter watching the cartoon channel in the family room beside them.

“Good morning, my dear,” he said as she entered, his eyes remaining on his screen, “there’s coffee and fresh orange juice.” As she poured a cup of one and a glass of the other, he added, “So how’d it go with the, um, ladies? What was it exactly again?”

Julie sat across the small kitchen nook table from him  and sipped her coffee, “It was a discussion group, and yes, it was all women. There were two speakers and then general discussion for a while, and then a few of us went out for a drink. It was fun, well, enjoyable. I enjoyed it.”

She felt a stab remembering Courtney’s soft lips and the mild aroma, likely a body wash, not perfume, that accompanied the kiss. She would like to enjoy that scent again.

“I’ll see the kids off; I’ve a later start this a.m.,” he noted, closing his computer.

“Fine,” Julie murmured, regarding the calendar on the fridge. “Your folks have the kids tonight, right?” He nodded as he stood and picked up his cup. “What’s happening next weekend?” She asked.

He headed into the family room. “That symposium and conference in New Orleans, right. I go down Friday and come back Monday.”

Julie nodded, thinking briefly that it was his second trip this month. Looking at the clock she was stirred to action; he might have a late start today, but she didn’t.


Courtney held the cold pack against the side of the woman’s face, and gently brought the woman’s hand up to grasp it. “There, just keep that on for about ten minutes, I’ll start your paperwork.”

“My kids?” the woman asked, anxiously.

“My assistant is getting them some breakfast; they’ll be back up soon, then we’ll get you settled in a room. There’s a police officer coming to take your statement…”

The woman’s dark face showed alarm, “I don’t like talkin’ to no police,” she said.

Courtney nodded. This was not new or a surprise, but it was always disheartening. An hour later the woman was settled and Courtney slouched down with a cup of herbal tea and closed her eyes. The pleasant, striking face of Julie White suddenly came unbidden to her mind; she smiled. This might just work; there was definitely something there. But what?


Claire Butler joined Dr. White as he examined the breast work he had performed about a month earlier; he was always joined by a nurse whenever he had a patient unclothed. “How do you feel?” He asked, pleasantly.

Ms. Salinger, early thirties, attractive but sporting tiny breasts (before), beamed up at him, “I can’t believe it, Dr. White. I think it looks incredible; there has been so little pain, my husband is dying to get his hands on them, and I just grin like an idiot whenever I look in the mirror.”

The good doctor beamed back at her, and Claire Butler beamed at him.


The sounds of Mariah Carey’s ‘One Sweet Day’ alerted Julie to a call on her cell. “Hello, this is Julie,” she answered, not used to personal calls at work.

“So, how’s it goin’ today? No hangover from last night?” The voice asked, and there could be no doubt whose voice; Julie felt a shiver, which was highly unusual.

“Hi there yourself and it’s goin’ fine, thanks,” Julie chuckled. “No hangover, I didn’t really drink all that much. How about you?”

“Same. I’m not much of a drinker; two glasses of wine kinda does it, hey? I’ll sometimes hit a little bud but generally, I’m pretty boring.”

Without pausing to consider, Julie responded, “Oh, I wouldn’t call you boring.” She then felt a stab of conscience or something; this was totally new to her. She and Christopher had never needed to discuss much, they always seemed to have a sort of understanding, or something. Why was she feeling this excitement?

“So you don’t think I’m…boring?” The voice now held a touch of…something; was Courtney flirting with her? Flirting had never been Julie’s strong suit; she preferred the direct approach, at least in response.


October, 2016, Philadelphia

The final feature presentation of the day had been viewed and now dinner was over. A number of delegates had retreated enthusiastically to the hotel bar, which was now packed. Julie White, working on her second glass of Chardonnay, looked again at the attractive young man in the blue, striped shirt and he looked back, again. In a minute they had navigated to a corner table, bodies pressed around them.

Ten minutes later they were thrashing around on the King-sized bed in Julie’s hotel room. An hour after that they were showering. Half an hour more and they were snuggled under the duvet and slipping into sleep, the man’s arms enclosing her.

They would meet for sex three more times before the conference ended Sunday, and leave with each other’s email and cell number, and with Julie feeling more satisfied than she had been in months, though slightly puzzled. For the second time in a year she had allowed her hands to be tied behind her and had found it turned her on. A warning light should have appeared, she later mused; but it hadn’t.


Over the next year the two would hook up twice more in hotels, the last time a marathon weekend event. Thinking back on that affair now, Julie realized there had been no flirting, no coyness; just pure desire and …fornication, hungry mouths devouring genitals like animals, needs being filled, especially Julie’s with her on her knees, her preferred position.

The young man was Aaron, and Julie was not naïve about the fact she was something of a MILF to him, although he had not used that term. He possessed a marvellously muscled body, one he was arrogantly proud of, especially his rock-hard abdominal muscles that he put to good use. His favorite position also was dog-style, but it was so he could watch himself in the mirror. But then it had worked for Julie as well; he fucks me like a slut, she had pondered during one sweaty session, as he had made her beg, her hands bound again.

“Please, please fuck me.” She had called out as he slapped her round ass and called her his dirty, brown whore.

But no, there had definitely been no flirting, and now here she was, undoubtedly flirting with a young woman. Or the woman was flirting with her

“No, you’re definitely not boring, I can’t believe anyone would ever say that to you?”

There was a pause. “What are you doing tonight?” Courtney asked, her voice compelling, alluring.

Fighting rising excitement, Julie asked, “Em, why?”

Courtney chuckled, “Why do you think? I enjoyed talking with you last night; being with you.” She paused, then added, quietly, “Kissing you.” She chuckled again.

Julie hesitated, “You know I’m married.”

“Does that matter?”

“Doesn’t it?”

“Not to me,” Courtney murmured.


May, 2004, Milwaukee

Courtney Farrell trotted behind the row of Townhouses as evening descended. This was the short cut she used most days, despite the warnings of her mother to stay visible on public streets; it was a quick run and saved her a couple of blocks of walking.

Coming around the bend in the alley she had no time to react as a gloved hand closed over her mouth, followed quickly by someone grabbing her by her ankles. She was lifted struggling off the ground as a scarf was tied around her eyes and she was bundled into the back of a van.

Fifteen minutes later she was naked and tied on a mattress in a park maintenance shed, as four high school boys passed a bottle of vodka around, leering and making lewd comments while occasionally stopping to force some alcohol into Courtney’s unwilling mouth.

Two hours later, clothed again but now passed out, she was carried into the back yard of her family home (the boys obviously knew her) and dumped on the ground.

Her mother would find her an hour later.

Although her memory was sketchy with gaps, Courtney knew she had been raped, including anally, by the four boys.

Her mother took her in the morning for an examination and the police did a rape kit. In the end, although the DNA results were something of a mess, two individuals were identified.

The harassment and intimidation of Courtney began the next day, with rumors of Courtney’s sexting and slutty behavior; the world of social media was ablaze with organized gossip. And as it turned out, the father of one of the suspects was a good and very close friend of the owner of the company Courtney’s mother worked for.

Three weeks after the assault, the Farrells, mother and daughter, moved to Buffalo with Mrs. Farrell accepting a promotion and transfer with a significant raise in pay and some ‘moving cash’.

No charges were filed. Courtney and her mother never spoke of the assault again, at least not for years.

The only sliver of anything positive was that she wasn’t pregnant and tested negative for the battery of tests she had for STDs.


“So I can get the kids to your folks, what are you up to?” Julie asked, fighting to keep her voice ‘normal’.

“Ummm,” Christopher replied, “I’m actually going to dinner with a couple, potential clients. The wife, late forties is looking into a number of things; upper arm lift, nose work, possible facelift. It could be quite the job, so we’re going to have dinner and discuss. I, um…” he paused, “didn’t think it was something you’d be interested in, Dear.”

Julie snorted; no, listening to surgical procedures made her skin crawl. “You got that right, Mister. No, you go and talk up a storm; I’m not missing anything.”

“Understood. See you later.” Christopher smiled into his cell.


Julie ended the call and also smiled; there would be no problem meeting Courtney for a drink after all, although what she might be getting herself in for, she told herself, was another story.


July, 2008, New York City

Claire Butler was making her second trip back to the living room carrying three beers. Husband George and his two buddies had shown up unannounced, smelling like the proverbial brewery, which they would, having spent much of the afternoon in a bar.

The three men, who would drink together at least once a month, occasionally at George’s place if the teenage son was out, were particularly raucous tonight, slapping Clair’s ample, round ass whenever she ventured within reach. Allan had even squeezed one substantial breast, amid all the mammary jokes, and both George and Lonnie had hooted at Claire’s response.

Managing to get away, Claire watched cautiously from the doorway as the trio now had a sports channel on and were yelling at the two boxers on the screen. After a few minutes, and after the second time George had bellowed for her, Claire ventured out to retrieve the empty cans. As she grasped the one near her husband, George suddenly reached out and pulled her over his knee, to hoots and shouts from his buddies.

As if planned, Lonnie then grasped Claire’s wrists and held them, preventing her from escape, with Allan holding her ankles. Despite her howls of protest, George pulled her skirt up and then yanked both her pantyhose and panties down, revealing a round, white ass. Not needing any encouragement but getting lots, George delivered several smacks to the quickly reddening flesh.

“Stay still woman, or we’ll paddle you harder,” George admonished as Lonnie released her wrists. They sat eerily quiet for a moment, Lonnie squeezing first one, then the other, reddened cheek.

“Find something to fuck her with.” George directed ominously, an odd look on his face, his heavy arm pinning Claire’s back. She begged him to stop, but her pleas fell on deaf ears as Lonnie soon returned, laughing, from the kitchen carrying a broom. Allan meanwhile had removed Claire’s under clothing completely and tied her wrists with her pantyhose.

“Suck it, Bitch.” Lonnie now commanded, bumping the end of the handle against Claire’s closed mouth, until she finally opened it and sucked.

After a few minutes the handle was removed and Claire cried out. “Please George, please. Please!” She begged as Lonnie now began to push the handle into her vagina from behind.

“Hold on, I need to get this,” Allan announced, grabbing his cell phone and finding the best vantage point. After several minutes and a number of photos later, Lonnie withdrew the handle and pressed it against Claire’s anus.

To her anguished howls of protest, Allan made a proposal. “Okay, Claire-baby, how’z this. We’ll spare your sweet ass if you blow us.”

When she didn’t answer, Lonnie began to push the handle into her tight hole. “Okay, okay, for Christ’s sake stop it. I’ll do it, you bastards!” She spat out, tears oozing from the corners of her eyes.

Lifting her head by her brown/blonde hair, Allan sneered, “Do what, Bitch?”

Claire hesitated, filled with anger and fear, but the fear won out. “I’ll, jeezus, I’ll blow you…”

With hoots of laughter and rude comments amid the sound of zippers unzipping, Claire was positioned on her knees. With a grimace, she accepted Allan’s cock first.


“Thank you,” Claire said, as the server topped up her wine. She was seated to Dr. White’s left, with Mr. Beck beside her and then Mrs. Beck completing the table. No one seemed to think it odd that the doctor’s main assistant would be involved in the dinner and surgical discussions.

Now, as the orders went out for dessert, Dr. White began to talk about bone structure and muscle alignment as it related to craniofacial surgery, to the rapt attention of the Becks, and Claire.


“So, you made this happen, I’m pumped.” Courtney smiled across the table at Julie. They were sitting in a very low-key bar, a piano playing softly a distance away.

“Yes,” Julie smiled as well, looking around. “I wouldn’t have thought you would come to a place like …this. Seems a little dull for you, no?”

Courtney sipped her wine and shook her head. “No, I like places like this. It lets me, mmmm, pretend.”

“Pretend what?” Julie asked.

Courtney shook her head again, “Nothing awesome. What is awesome is that you’re here. I can appreciate that this takes guts.”

Julie smiled. She felt very relaxed, and it wasn’t the wine as she was just on her first glass. She considered for a moment, then began. “I’ve had affairs…”

Courtney looked at the woman with renewed interest. “More than one, hmmmm? Hubby not makin’ it, um, happen babe?”

Julie studied the face of her companion; the woman really was remarkably attractive, even with her mass of red hair tied back today in a simple, casual way. Her skin was flawless; her face perfectly proportioned, her eyes compelling. With a stab of guilt, Julie realized she wanted to kiss those plump, pink lips. She really wanted to, but she gave her head a slight shake. “Marriage is complicated. I take it you’ve never been… married?”

Courtney gently shook her head no but was silent, as Julie continued. “Sex really becomes a minor part of things, especially after you’ve had, um, kids. Christopher and I have a great relationship, and I’m not going to leave him because of sex; but I have, um, needs.”

It was now Courtney’s turn to study. “How old are you?” She asked suddenly, then laughed, “Sorry, I’m a little ADD. You know, Squirrel!”

Julie smiled at the candor, “I’m thirty-six. You’re in your late twenties, I’m guessing?”

“Twenty-seven, yeah. But, ummm, what happens in an affair if you uh, like the dude or chick? You don’t plan on that, right?”

Julie considered; she had never worried about that; it had never been personal. “Could be, I guess, but that could happen anyway. With a co-worker; a neighbor. You never know where attraction, um, desire I guess, could come from.” She sipped her wine. “I on the other hand, was just looking for sex and that was all I found. There weren’t any…deeper feelings.”

They both sat, quietly. “What do you think you’d do, if there were…feelings?”

Julie looked into those light, green-blue eyes. Why was she asking this? She pondered. “Well, that would make things, um, more complicated, for sure,” she said, quietly; but her heart rate had increased.


Claire was moving her hand rapidly up and down Dr. White’s shaft as she continued to suck on the head furiously. She wanted him to come, it mattered to her. He mattered to her.

They were parked, like a couple of teens White had smirked, on a dark side-street a couple of blocks from her house. The only problem was the console shift on White’s BMW was in the way a little as Claire leaned over from the passenger seat.

With a grunt, the good doctor’s hips jerked and Claire swallowed down the warm gunk, sucking even after the ‘event’. As White stroked her head and his erection diminished, Claire continued to suck, holding his cock in her mouth as long as she could.


The two women had ordered a second glass of wine each and had shared stories from their youth, both finding the talking and sharing, comfortable. “So, you, um consider yourself strictly a lesbian?” Julie now ventured the topic that had been on her mind for a while but brought forward with Courtney’s last story of a relationship with a woman.

Courtney gazed across the table, ideas forming; she liked Julie’s face; it had a softness to it; and there was something in her personality that was drawing her strongly. “I don’t know. I don’t like, labels.” She paused. “I like being with women. I like how they feel. I like, um” she smiled, “pussies, a lot. I feel in sync, like, I guess, with a feminine body. But I so don’t, you know, like the label, lesbian.”

Julie now studied the younger woman; she had been part of surprisingly few conversations about girl on girl sex in her life, even though she used sexual imagery in her work and had for years; she simply hadn’t really discussed it on a personal level. “Why should a label matter?” She asked.

Courtney continued to gaze mildly at her companion; she sighed. “Well, I don’t know what you mean by lesbian; maybe you don’t even know, like, yourself, hey; it’s just a word that you can say and not think about. That’s your biz-ness, right?” She smiled. “It’s all about slogans, style, image, illusion, hey? Lesbian is a nice, neat word to toss out there, either to attack someone, or at least like pigeon-hole ‘em I guess. And then there’s no need to ask what they really, like, are.”

Julie nodded; she had never thought at length about that, although she was well aware of the shallowness of modern advertising, which she was successful at. She herself was very good at coming up with phrases that meant nothing but conveyed something. ‘A bright, bold taste’; what the hell did that actually mean? That was her ‘biz-ness’.

“That’s a point, but isn’t saying that you like women or you are a lesbian just the same thing?”

Courtney took a sip and shook her head. “No, not to me. When I say I like women, that’s like a clear statement. When someone calls me a lesbian, or asks if I’m one, I don’t know what they are meaning, for sure. It depends on, like context, right. And it’s like we’re living in a world where context is, well, um, so like removed from us, and all you’re left with is, like, emotion and labels. Yeah, labels, for sure. And bias. And that marginalizing thing; and of course, being, like, dismissed, or, shit-hit-the fan, cancelled.”

Thinking that this statement was pretty complicated for someone in her twenties, and then remonstrating herself for her bias, Julie pondered the words. Her tasks in advertising were to create the context she wished, and then tie that into some need or desire; if she was successful, a product would become well known, a slogan if you will, and much of her job was done.

The slogan replaced any need for context or explanation; but it was amazing to her that this young woman seemed to understand this at an advanced, and personal, level.

“You resist being boxed in? I get that. One of the labels I hate is victim. Makes me crazy.”

“How so?”

“Well, there are true victims, people who have been attacked, physically injured. They need that word. But it seems ‘victim’ is becoming a slogan, a word, like you say, to toss out there, and there’s no need to define it. It’s like even MSM news is just slogans and opinions.”

Courtney snorted. “Yeah, the old fossil has become like the great, wide Twitterverse, where with one hundred and forty characters you can destroy someone or define something. Or just pile on, like a mob. I understand, being attacked. I understand that very, very well, but I’ll be damned if I’ll label myself a victim.”

“A survivor?” Julie asked, quietly, wondering what was behind that last statement. Considering even as she said it that that word was becoming slogan-ized.

“Maybe. I’d go with that, but it still doesn’t, uh, replace, you know, explaining. And it still tries to box me in. Relationships shouldn’t be reduced to a word, like that word marriage. Like you said, living an actual marriage is complicated.” She took another sip, considering. “But it seems to be how our world is going; you know, quick, simple, so mindless. Groups of people just yelling at each other through their devices. Makes me sad sometimes.”

They sat in silence. Finally Courtney looked up, “I’d like to go somewhere, together.”

Julie returned the gaze, her heart rate suddenly increasing once again, an uninvited desire nudging her consciousness. “Now? Where, um, would you like to go?”

Courtney gently stroked the stem of her glass. “I don’t know. Just somewhere to be alone; together. A sanctuary, sort of. I guess.” She chuckled.

(End of Chapter 02)

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A Sanctuary of One by LongDarkRoad Chapter 1 There’s Always One Who Loves

A Sanctuary of One

By LongDarkRoad

Chapter 1 There’s Always One Who Loves

New York City

Christopher White possessed a name that suited him perfectly. As people observed, there had to be northern Scandinavians at large in his history, as he was possibly the whitest person they knew, right down, or up in this case, to his blonde, now receding, hair.

So it was a surprise when Christopher White married Julie Ramos, whose father was Puerto Rican and her mother mixed race.

“But not nearly as, um, white, as the Whites,” Julie’s friend Anna had smirked, considering Christopher’s very well-to-do, privileged parents.

But it had been years since Julie had seen Anna or any of her old crowd. Her life now was centered on their lovely home on the Upper West Side, her children, Noah, nine and Abigail, seven and her thriving business.

As for Christopher White, he had established himself as one of the top plastic surgeons in the state; women (and he worked almost entirely with women) came to him from as far away as Alaska and even Russia.

So far in their ten years of marriage, however, Julie had not been satisfied with the life of a stay-at-home mother, returning to her world of advertising as quickly as possible each time after giving birth. Her long-time ‘super-nanny’, Angel, being invaluable in her life; a ‘true angel’ Julie had often commented.

“You’re not concerned the children will mistake Angel for their mother?” Christopher had murmured once, several years ago, and Julie had simply given him a look. Why was it that he could have his career and his life and see his children, interact with them as he chose, but she needed to be there full time?

Christopher didn’t actually say that; it was simply implied in his manner. They had not fought over the issue; not even argued, really. Julie would admit that they had never had an emotional argument in their marriage, ever, despite her occasional annoyance or frustration. It was simply not in her husband’s (or hers, really) nature. For his part, Christopher was a calm, thoughtful, unemotional, stable, dry man; almost plastic.

“Well, it’s good he is a plastic surgeon, yes?” Her mother had winked at her early in the marriage when Julie had quietly complained about their uneventful lives.

She had had to laugh at her mother’s remark; her parents did not dislike her husband in the least. They were actually quite fond of him and appreciative of the safe and bountiful life his career provided. In their minds he was, absolutely, a decent man.

And they worshipped their two grandchildren. Julie’s impulsive sister and globe-trotting brother would likely not provide anything of the sort, at least nothing that would be acknowledged, so Noah and Abigail were precious, and both sets of grandparents battled for their time and affection. The positive of this was that both Julie and Christopher were able to involve themselves with their interests pretty much as they wished, their children never needing for care.

On top of his practice, White worked with New York University’s Master’s Program in Medicine, co-teaching one class each semester. He was also frequently asked to speak at conferences across the country, and was usually away a few days each month.

Julie had once considered asking him if all his obligations meant that his children might not recognize their father, but that was petty. He spent quality time with his children, and they did many family things meant to enrich their lives.

No, neither White child suffered for anything, including attention.

As time passed, Julie had managed her own restlessness (her lack of marital ‘fire’ as she considered it) over the years with occasional affairs. There had to date been three, all with men she had met while at the numerous conferences or trade shows she herself attended. Her only mild concern (she felt no guilt at the pleasure these encounters had given her; the men were all masculine and aggressive sexually; satisfying her in this way far more than Christopher ever had or could) was that she had gone back to each man more than once.

The most recent, Aaron, an IT specialist five years her junior at thirty-one, had even come to New York one weekend and the two had enjoyed a satisfying weekend of intense, even creative, sex.

But that had been over a year ago now, and she had felt no pull recently, which both concerned and relieved her. What she could use right now, she mused as she stared at the computer screen that had not changed in over twenty minutes as she allowed her thoughts to roam, was a gal pal to talk to. She thought now of Anna and Steph, and the other girls she had hung with in her younger days.

“Hel-lo-Hel-lo,” a voice called, rousing her from her reverie. Julie looked up to see the plump and pleasant face of Tina, her assistant, beaming at her. “You were off somewhere, my dear.” The woman grinned.

Julie smiled sheepishly, “You got me, girl. I’m not making any headway on this thing for Aduval, so I just kind of went away.” She chuckled, “So, what do you need?”

“Oh, nothing Boss. I just wanted to see if you’d thought any more about coming out with us tonight, to the meeting?”

Julie looked up with a blank face, trying hard to recall what meeting.

Tina smiled again. Divorced and forty-four, with two young-adult children, the woman had worked her whole life with little in the way of breaks, yet she smiled a lot, and saw the good in others. She was not the most knowledgeable about technology, many younger people would surpass her, but she was reliable and competent and positive; all things Julie White appreciated.

“The #MeToo discussion group. Jasmine and I are going, and I think a friend of hers. You like a good debate, Boss. And it won’t be hard core Femi-Nazi-ism or anything, but your experience and everything would be valuable.”

Julie grimaced slightly. She didn’t like the way the world was drifting these days; she didn’t like the noisy, aggressive tone that social media was adopting, where the loudest voices drowned out the rest. She didn’t need to be part of any sisterhood and she certainly didn’t need to hear endless tirades against men.

“Look,” Tina continued, “just come tonight and see what goes on. If it’s really not your thing, if nothing interests you, that’s fine and I will stop nagging you. That’s a promise. Boss.” Tina smiled again.

Julie smiled, too. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. She’d been thinking of how it would be nice to spend some time with women, or a woman; a friend. She needed that. She couldn’t remember the last time she and Christopher had talked at length about anything of importance; both of them busy with their worlds and then the children.

It wasn’t enough, for her. She needed…something.


Courtney Farrell clicked the mouse twice and waited for the sheet to come out of the printer. The woman she had just inputted into the Williams Street Shelter was now processed; Courtney took the form to Alanna and then strolled to the small cafeteria; she had missed lunch and it was now almost three. She decided to eat a sandwich and soup now, as she had the meeting tonight that she wanted to get to and likely wouldn’t have time to eat later.

And as she ate she unconsciously tied her impressive, red hair back into a pony tail as she read over her notepad. She planned to speak tonight and she felt a little nervous. In one on one situations, Courtney, now twenty-seven, was always self-assured and confident; but in groups it was a different story.

Standing up to carry her tray and trash to the bin, a lunchroom staffer, one of the few men in the building, happened to bump into her and she recoiled; even after all these years, certain things still affected her. The young man apologized and Courtney moved on and up the stairs to her small office on the second floor. The young man watched the shapely hips enclosed in the tight white track pants, looking away quickly when Courtney glanced back.

Even if he hadn’t been looking, she believed he was. It was one of her obsessions.


Christopher White looked over the scans; Ms. Jenson’s implants were looking fine. He had only started doing breast implants three years ago, when a partner, Ava, joined him, and it now made up almost half his work. He had never lacked for money, his practice successful from the start, but the steady flow of woman wanting a better profile had made the financial needle move up even further.

But the side effects had been odd; he now found it difficult to enjoy wife Julie’s plump, round breasts. Not only were they no longer arousing, he found handling them distasteful, almost repellant. He had fought this growing response as it developed over the last year, but it was of no use. The only time now that he could consider intimacy with his wife was in the safe darkness of their bedroom, and he believed she found this boring. But then, those times had become very infrequent.

Claire, his loyal assistant (she had been the first, and although the staff now had grown to three, was still his primary aide) came to his large and tidy desk. Mid-height, mid-forties, married, although she didn’t wear her rings at the office, her most prominent feature was, ironically, the substantial bosom that was almost an advertisement for a plastic surgeon who did breast implants.

Unbuttoning her white top, Claire placed the doctor’s  hands upon her breasts. She knew he didn’t always wish to see them, but he did enjoy fondling them, at least over her bra. The man himself could not explain why, brushing the inconsistency from his mind.

Kneeling down, Claire rubbed her hand against his expensive trousers, feeling the reluctant hardening of his modest cock. In a few moments her red lips (he liked red, bright red, actually) were moving up and down the glistening shaft, as Dr. White leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, soft moans escaping his lips.

If his wife could have her…secrets, well, so could he.


Julie first called Angel and confirmed with her that she would be able to make dinner for the children; the woman was a marvellous cook (so much better than me, Julia mused). Noah and Abigail did not need to be picked up from their private school, the bus dropped them off right outside their condo on one hundred and tenth, with Angel there to meet them.

Next, Julie managed to reach Christopher, who sounded even calmer than usual; relaxed almost, which Julie found strange for someone who made his living cutting humans open. Well, better relaxed, she considered, than hyper. Who wanted a hyper surgeon handling a sharp scalpel? Christopher nodded at Claire who returned from brushing her teeth and then nodded as his wife informed him that she would be home later; she was off to a meeting.

As Claire zipped up his trousers and kissed his neck, Christopher grunted at the information that it was a ‘woman’s meeting’. “Well, just don’t go marching in the streets, dear,” he murmured.

“Would that matter to you?” Julie asked, slightly annoyed and not sure why.

“Probably not,” Christopher replied, as Claire tossed him a wide smile before heading back to her desk.

Christopher then placed a call to Angel himself. He was interested in what she might prepare for dinner.


The group ended up being fourteen women and they met in a room behind a restaurant, where most ate before the discussion. As well as Tina and Julie, co-worker Jasmine, an early twenties woman with both a nose and eye-brow ring and arm tats, came. The fourth woman was Jasmine’s friend Courtney, a striking redhead who seemed an unlikely companion to the brash and clearly lesbian ‘Jas’.

After the meal and once everyone had a coffee or tea, the discussion was led by a Pace University English Professor, followed by a Syrian woman who was now in her third year of living in America and waiting for her citizenship.

The professor, a black woman in her early fifties, spoke of the issues facing working women, especially with things like career advancement. The Syrian spoke of the difficulty of an immigrant woman and employment.

Julie was pleased that no one used the word ‘victim’; apparently Professor Fenton disapproved of the word, as Julie herself did. The discussion became heated at times but remained thoughtful. Jasmine’s friend Courtney spoke several times and Julie was moved by her honesty; and by the woman’s voice. It had a quality; one could imagine that she had possibly been a radio announcer or some such thing. Julie closed her eyes once and just listened.

Several times during the evening, as the women sat in a large circle, Courtney and Julie exchanged looks. Now, as the group was breaking up around nine, several of the women discussed going for drinks.

Julie was looking at her watch when that lovely voice spoke beside and above her. “You are coming for a drink, aren’t you? It’s Julie, right?”

“Oh,” Julie said, slightly startled, “I was just considering…”

“Well don’t; I’m buying, the first drink, anyway.”

Julie looked up into the very attractive, no, beautiful, face; pale, soft, absolutely unblemished skin; thick, red hair framing the face with its high cheek bones and light blue-green eyes. “Why would you want to do that?” she asked with genuine wonder. No woman had ever offered to buy her a drink before. She had shared drinks, obviously, many times. But this seemed…different.

Courtney laughed and her face literally lit up. The memories and issues that sometimes caused her to avoid contact at places like her work or made her seem preoccupied, even distant at times, vanished. She became a radiant woman. “Really? I thought we had like a…connection in the meeting? I felt it.”

“A connection?” Julie asked as Courtney led her by her elbow toward the door. “We’ve barely met.”

“Well, let’s fix that. The lounge is just a little ways down this block.”


Christopher was just coming out of Noah’s room; the lad had drifted off to sleep easily tonight. Oh to be a child, the father pondered as he headed down the hall.

As he came up to her, Angel was just putting on her coat, with the temperature outside hovering just above freezing, April or not. “Lovely dinner as usual Angel,” Christopher murmured as the stocky, dark-haired woman smiled up at him.

“No problem, Mr. White. It is never a problem, for you or Mrs. J. The dishwasher is started, by the way and I’m off.”

“Good night and see you tomorrow,” Christopher announced to the broad, departing back.

Taking a glass of Merlot, he made his way to the den and popped open one laptop. He knew his schedule but he still felt the need to confirm; no surgeries tomorrow, but two follow-up visits; one an intricate nose job and the other; breast enhancement.

Would he ever completely enjoy a woman’s breasts again, he wondered, thinking for a moment of the mammaries of the loyal Claire? He would love to bury his face into the soft, ample mounds of flesh, but could not bring himself to it; yet. Claire wanted him to, but accepted his excuses, performing her ‘special’ service upon him with an obvious pleasure.

As he ruminated these thoughts on her, the woman appeared via a text message. “Dear Dr. W; I have confirmed your rooms for next weekend in New Orleans, Friday and Saturday. You had spoken of my assistance. Would you like me to book rooms as well?”

Christopher smiled as he read the message. “What would I do without your assistance, my dear Claire? Yes, please book rooms and flights. See you tomorrow; in at ten,” he texted back.


Five women ended up together at the lounge, sitting in a booth that curved around a large table. Julie sat at one end, beside Courtney, and after initial introductions and the like, the woman beside her became the only person she could really talk with. She heard snatches of comments from others now and then, but the soft (sultry? could this be a sultry voice? Julie pondered early on, trying to clarify what she found so compelling) voice to her right engaged her almost completely.

It became clear to Julie within a few moments that she and Courtney lived in very different worlds; at least, now. If she had stayed where she had been raised, in that working-class environment, then the differences would likely be minor. But she hadn’t stayed; she had earned a degree and married a man with wealthy parents who netted a healthy six-figure salary and had for many years; and they lived in an exclusive area of one of the most expensive cities on the planet.

Courtney, on the other hand, could only come to the Upper West Side as a guest. The young woman was not bitter about any of this, but she was definitely opinionated; and an activist. She believed in causes, identifying herself clearly, in one example, as a feminist. She did not say this to Julie as a challenge; she wasn’t carrying a chip on her shoulder so much as believing she was a soldier in a war.

As the attractive woman spoke at length about equal pay and roadblocks to women, Julie found herself simply listening to the voice rather than focusing on the ideas as they tumbled out, in volume.

“Are you listening to me, Julie?” the young woman suddenly asked, a smile on her pink lips. But at that moment there was movement from the end of the table, as two women were standing and getting ready to leave. Good-byes were said and then the third woman, Maxine, chatted for a while and finally Julie and Courtney were left as the last two.

“What were you asking?” Julie finished the last of her wine and looked at her companion.

Courtney chuckled, “I was just yadda, yadda and saw you had zoned out; I can have that effect on people sometimes.” Julie chuckled as well, and Courtney continued. “So I’ve been rude, which is like me. We haven’t talked about you, the good newbie doobie.”

Julie looked into the light, almost emerald in the lounge, blue eyes, “This is a regular thing, these meetings and then some socializing?”

Courtney shrugged and brushed back her thick hair with one long, elegant hand. (I’ll bet she plays piano, Julie mused) “Wouldn’t call it like, regular, exactly. We’ve been getting together for maybe a year now, every couple of months; there are about twenty of us but the whole crew doesn’t make it, right; and then we encourage bringing friends. You work with Tina, right?”

Julie nodded and considered, “Yes, I’m her, em, boss, actually, although we look at ourselves as a team, hey?”

“And it’s marketing or some shit?”

Julie chuckled and nodded. “Yes, some shit. Multi-platform advertising; we do everything from Twitter posts to television commercials; print, you name it. Even radio. I had my own firm for several years, then was bought out three years ago and hired as a working senior consultant. I like it, the whole promotion game, bullshit though it may be. Not bad for a Loisaida girl.” She grinned.

“Well, good for you, doobie. A non-white woman making it in like corporate America kind of; I raise my glass to you, even if my glass is like empty and you call your work bullshit,” Courtney laughed again.

She then proceeded to share her job and activities, which, no surprise, revolved around her causes. Protecting women from abusive relationships being one, which was why she worked at the shelter. The two sat in silence for a moment.

“I see you’re um, hooked up,” Courtney murmured, stroking Julie’s hand and ring. Julie smiled, partly because the touch felt pleasant and partly because she wasn’t sure what to say. “Kids?”

“Two,” Julie replied softly, running her finger up the stem of her glass.

“I’ll bet you’re a great mom,” Courtney said, quietly as well.

Julie sat in silence for a moment, hearing the din of conversation around her. “Not really, to be blunt. I like my own life. The best moms are the ones that are totally devoted.”

Courtney shook her head, her mane of hair swaying. “Don’t agree. I’ve seen those helicopter moms at work, hovering. Smothering, I say. But what about hubby-dear, does he do his…thing?”

Julie looked up but Courtney was focused on her glass; she noticed the soft swell of the woman’s breasts against her blouse, the line of her neck, the paleness of her skin. “He’s attentive; reads to the children at night. But he’s a doctor, a surgeon, and he’s busy; he teaches and travels. We both tend to be, mmm, busy, actually. But we have a wonderful ‘nanny’ cum housekeeper, who is indispensable.” Here Julie chuckled for a moment and Courtney looked up.

“I just find it funny…me…a Puerto Rican woman having a white nanny. How’s that for the American dream?”

Courtney laughed, covering her mouth with her long fingers.


In her modest Wakefield home, Claire Butler looked in on her husband, who needed to be away by four a.m. as he was on the early morning shift. He was snoring as usual and with a sniff of disdain, she closed the door. She moved down the hall to her son’s old room, empty since he had left for college. She stood looking quietly at the space; for whatever reason she had left things as they were, although Grant had emptied out his personal things a couple of years ago.

She then went to the third bedroom, end of the hall; the one which she had taken over as her own, she and her husband having not shared a bed in years; ten years in fact. She undressed and stood, massaging her large breasts and then the marks left by her bra. She picked up her cell phone and took a picture of each breast, then sent the images to Dr. White, smiling.

He might not touch them, but she enjoyed showing them to him.


“So Julie, would you take the red pill or the blue pill?” Courtney asked with an impish smile, blue eyes twinkling.

Julie sat; silent, frozen…confused. Pills?

“You know, knowledge and freedom, or blissful ignorance?” Courtney impulsively stroked the dark, curling mass of hair of this very interesting woman sitting beside her. She ran her slim hand down the woman’s light brown cheek; there was no resistance.

“Let’s go with the red,” then Courtney leaned in and kissed Julie, full on her soft, brown-pink lips.

(End of Chapter 01)