" And for your guest, Madam?" Carla asked.
"Oh, I'll have a gin and tonic, if I may." Dr. Mappamundi said.
Emily's dark-haired secretary went to the sideboard and prepared
the drinks, Scotch and water for Emily and Grace Mappamundi's gin
and tonic. Carla was a stocky woman with a dusky complexion
and hot dark eyes. She was casually dressed in a black
pinafore dress and sneakers and had a reassuring air of relaxed
efficiency.
"I'll be at the pool if you want me, Madam," she said to Emily as
she left the room.
"Of course, it's due to your family - the Armstrong Trust that
I've got tenure and am to be a full Professor," Dr Mappamundi
said. " I know the college dealt with your attorneys, but I
always assumed it was your mother I would be dealing with"
"Mother passed nearly everything to my sister and me four years
ago." Emily said. "Well, I got the house as well."
"I trust you mother is in good health?" Grace Mappamundi asked.
"Yes, she's okay. She had a small stroke five years ago and lost
some mobility in her limbs for a while, but she's fully recovered
now."
"Oh dear," Dr. Mappamundi sighed. "But Emily," she rose from her
chair and bent down to kiss Emily on the cheek, "I owe so much to
you."
Emily sat down beside Dr Mappamundi on the leather settee.
" You know that, after you left I was... very much tied up with
Mother for a while..." she said.
Obviously choosing her words carefully, as she always did, Dr
Mappamundi said, "And your mother, is she...uh? That is an
attractive young woman who let me in. Your secretary?"
"That's right, she's responsible for the day to day running of
the house. She has...assistance. I had to take her on a couple of years
ago. Up to that I'd been doing most of the housework myself.."
"You mean you didn't have a maid?"
"No, " Emily blushed in spite of herself.. "Mother let the maid go
soon after you left."
"I see,"Dr Mappamundi said gravely.
""I don't really want to talk about it," Emily said. "Let's just
say that Mother and I have always had a rather ...stormy
relationship. But that part of it is over now."
" She was so strict with you, wasn't she? ," Dr Mappamundi said.
"But you've changed. Is it the money? You look so confident now."
"I haven't changed that much," Emily said. "I should tell you that,
some time after you left, Mother started going to...clubs..."
"Clubs?"
"She started bringing highly unsuitable women home. To her bed."
"She was...promiscuous?"
"And how!" Emily said. "One night, I was awoken by shouting.
Mother had passed out on top of this drunk bottle-blonde in bed. The
woman thought mother was dead and was hollering for someone to get
her off."
"Oh, dear!"
"I had to pay the woman off - get the place cleaned up before
calling the ambulance.
That's when we thought she had the stroke."
Dr Mappamundi sipped the remains of her drink
"Well, when she came out she'd completely lost her persuasive
qualities, her powers of argument. And with it she'd suffered
some sort of a personality change, although they couldn't trace
any actual brain damage."
Emily took Dr Mappamundi's glass to pour her another drink.
"Mother hates the taxman more than the devil and she decided to
have everything transferred. Well, it meant there was a bit of
a shift in power - and she could no longer dominate me - that never
came back. In the first few months she couldn't manage the
stairs very well, so I converted an old butler's pantry on the
ground floor into a bedroom. I put her in there, along with all
those damned Chinese carvings from the hall."
"The hall seemed much brighter," Dr Mappamundi said carefully.
"Yes, I changed the door for a glazed one and had a new window put
in on the south side of the house," Emily said.
"And what about...?"
"Yeah, well, that was the problem. Particularly when she was
fully recovered physically. She started bellyaching about the
lack of...well, you know. You probably guessed that for a time
we...well, we had a sort of relationship. Anyway, I had made up
my mind, there was nothing doing."
"I see."
"She was begging me to even masturbate her, but I felt that was
all past tense with me and I refused. I'd hear her crying at night
and, in the end, I started interviewing maids. Trying to fix
something for her. It was difficult as hell to get it across
that I wanted someone who'd sleep with her as well as do the chores.
There are plenty of lesbians out there, but Mother's nearly sixty
now."
Emily crossed to the sideboard and poured herself another drink.
"Anyway, out of the blue, Carla turned up. And I immediately found
she'd been a maid here before. I barely remembered her but I
know there was something different - she was polite enough but she
had this sort of "fuck you" look in her eye sometimes. Anyway, it
was easy enough to talk with her about the lovemaking bit. She
knew what was wanted and don't forget I was able to offer very good
money. But I found Carla wasn't quite what I'd expected. She
described some of the things they'd got up to way back when. She
made certain proposals which, to be honest, turned me on no end. "
"But I thought Carla was your secretary!"
"Yeah, she works for me, of course. But, well let's say I just
pull the strings sometimes. It would work anyway, but having
someone else watching and controlling makes it diferent. The
effect of the observer, . It's a bit like that..."
"Schroedingers cat?" Dr Mappamundi said.
"Yeah.. Let me show you how it started, the bit Mother doesn't
like."
Emily opened a cabinet and selected a videotape which she
slipped into the player under the television
"Carla now has the bedroom downstairs and Mother sleeps in a
cot in the corner. There's a surveillance camera which they're
both aware of and accept."
On the screen Carla, wearing a wool dress and black woollen
stockings, was sitting on an upright wooden chair and, beside
her, Mrs Armstrong was undressing. Then, still in her bra,
but without her panties she was pulled across Carla's knee.
Professor Mappamundi winced as she saw the hairbrush descend
with a crack on Mrs Armstrong's defenceless buttocks. The
older woman shrieked and tried to struggle, but was firmly
subdued by the muscular Carla. Emily switched off.
"You get the idea," she said. "Come over here."
She again placed her arms around Dr Mappamundi's slender body,
feeling the dainty breasts against hers, caressing with her hands
the delicate shoulderblades and feeling the delightful hollow
of her partner's back, then kissed Dr Mappamundi on the full
lips, tasting the faint perfume of her lipstick, then, gently,
forced her tongue into her mouth. She felt the mouth soften
and surrender under hers.
"Emily," Dr. Mappamundi said, a little later, "Look, I'm not
stupid enough to think that the endowment to the philosophy
Department is not unconnected to our ... our past friendship.
But it puts me in an awkward position, as I am speaking to...
someone who has really altered my life...."
"Dr..I mean, Professor," Emily corrected herself with a smile, "I
will never forget how you actually took the trouble to call to this
house to speak on my behalf - when mother was giving me such a
difficult time."
"I was of so little use," Dr Mappamundi admitted. " I thought I
was skilled in philosophical argument, but I totally failed to
move her..."
"I know," Emily said. "But you CAN do something for me now."
"Please tell me, Emily," Dr Mappamundi clasped Emily's hands.
"Well, with Carla here now," Emily said. "I have the house
running the way I want it - beyond choosing the menus and
picking flowers for the house, I'm pretty idle. So I
thought of continuing my philosophy studies...I mean, I know I
got my degree, just about, but I would like to take it so much
farther..."
"Oh, Emily, that's great!" Dr. Mappamundi said. They began to kiss
again, passionately, then Emily broke away.
"Come with me, I want to show you something," she said thickly.
They went into the large room which, Emily knew, Dr Mappamundi
would recognise as Mrs Armstrong's former bedroom. It was now
modernised to Emily's taste with a very feminine and luxurious
circular bed, black and orange modern paintings on the walls,
and floor to ceiling wardrobes in light wood. The room had
large bow windows to the front, but Emily led Dr Mappamundi to
a smaller window which looked out to the side of the house.
Below was a large new swimming pool with a lawn to one side on
which lay a rug and some cushions. On a chair by the poolside
sat a bare-breasted woman with a red sarong around her waist,
wearing a sombrero. A maid was crossing the tiled area from
the house, carrying a tray with a tall iced drink. The maid in
her black dress and white apron was tall and walked gracefully.
She had beautiful legs. When she came out of the shadow of the
house the sun shone brightly on her face and hair.
"Good God, Emily, it's your mother!" Dr Mappamundi said.
The woman in the sarong tasted the drink and said something to
the "maid" She also pointed to the other side of the pool and
seemed to be complaining about a towel that had been dropped
there. Her voice was surprisingly angry and it didn't appear as
though she was acting. Mrs Armstrong, in her maid's uniform,
was trying to justify herself.
"What makes it really interesting," Emily said, "is that Mother
is not terribly good in the submissive role. Sometimes she
fights back...
Emily opened the window a crack and they could hear raised voices.
Mrs Armstrong appeared to have stopped arguing and now stood
with her head bowed while the smaller woman continued to berate her.
To Dr Mappamundi's astonishment, Mrs Armstrong began to undress,
first removing her apron which Carla ordered her to leave on a
chair beside the pool. Then the older woman unbuttoned the top
of her dress and stepped out of it. She faltered then, standing
in silhouette against the flashing light on the blue of the pool.
She was a little plumper than Dr Mappamundi remembered her, her
belly a little softer, but she was still magnificent in her satin
bra and a tiny pair of white cotton briefs.
"Mother adores nice underwear," Emily whispered in Dr Mappamundi's
ear, "but when she's in uniform she's always obliged to wear a pair
of Carla's cast off panties."
Dr Mappamundi gulped.
"But why?"
"Just to remind her of her position, of course!" Emily said.
Dr Mappamund felt Emily's arm creep around her waist. She could
still scarcely believe that Emily had started this.
She felt a wave of heat wash over her and knew a question was being
asked which would have to be answered very soon. She felt her
arousal came mainly from what she was witnessing by the pool, but
how was one to tell? And why was she being shown this? Mrs
Armstrong was completely naked now and was getting down on her
hands and knees on the lawn. It was obvious she had been made
to do this before. Carla removed her sarong and dropped it on
the ground. She was naked. Wearing only the sombrero, she calmly
straddled Mrs Armstrong's back and then, once firmly astride, she
gripped the older woman's hair tightly with both hands Dr
Mappamundi felt a powerful erotic charge run through her as she
remembered how Mrs Armstrong had seduced her. Dr Mappamundi,
fully aware of her own femininity and attractiveness, had been
completely mastered in bed by the older woman and required to
serve her sexual needs without respite. She had done this
tirelessly, her senses inflamed by the older woman's sexual
demands, her own shamefully submissive desires relentlessly
exposed. Yet within a week she had been humiliatingly ejected
from Mrs Armstrong's bed. And now this proud woman was reduced
to being a mount for Emily's servant.
The huge shadow of the sombrero almost completely covered Carla
and the straddled woman beneath her, but as the shadow moved, Dr
Mappamundi could see the heavy black bush between the naked rider's
legs as she guided her mount from the lawn onto the tiles with her heavy
thighs. Mrs Armstrong was obviously finding the tiles painful under her
knees and had slowed almost to a stop, but Carla drove her on pitilessly
with resounding slaps to the buttocks. Every faint protest from
Mrs Armstrong was answered with a slap from her powerfully built
rider who now, legs stretched forward and heels resting on the
tiles, was forcing her mount to pick up the neglected towel with
her teeth.
Dr Mappamundi watched Mrs Armstrong try to turn back, the towel
gripped between her teeth and trailing along the ground, Carla's
heavy white buttocks still controlling her, then the older woman
could go no further and, under a torrent of abuse from Carla, slid
forward to lie face downward on the tiles, the implacable Carla
still sitting firmly astride her. Dr Mappamundi had turned to
snuggle deeply into Emily's arms. Emily now quite boldly forced
her tongue into her friend's mouth, pushing it right back as far
as her throat, almost making her gag. . I'm not going to say "no"
Dr Mappamundi thought, as she felt Emily's hand on her thigh.
But did I decide that now, or when I first came in? This girl
needs me, she told herself, but also reminded herself of the
possibly subjectivistic theories of Kant and Hobbes where "This
is good" can be analysed into "I desire this." Are ethical
judgements always about the psychology of the person who utters
them? How was she going to arrange the time to continue Emily's
studies in philosophy? They stopped for a moment to look down at
the pool where an impatient Carla was dragging Mrs Armstrong, legs
first, from the tiles onto the grass. Impatiently Emily began to
pull off Dr Mappamundi's jacket, then embraced her again and
started opening her blouse, plunging her arms around her slender
waist and unhooking her bra. Stopping for a moment, she buried
her face in Dr Mappamundi's neck.
"Ever since...I saw you," Emily panted, "in bed with Mother...and
you told me about it..."
"Oh, Emily," Dr Mappamundi moaned.
"I swore...I swore I was going to take her place," Emily said
thickly, beginning to undo her dress.
Carla had dragged Mrs Armstrong onto the rug near the pool and,
turning her on her back, had mounted her.. Bush to bush, the
older woman was moaning under the powerful friction from the
muscular young female on top of her.
"Oh, how you have punished her, Emily," Dr Mappamundi said.
Feverishly Emily kicked off her shoes and pulled off her panties
and pantyhose and threw herself on the bed. Dr Mappamundi, her
adorable Grace, was now kneeling on the floor with her face
between Emily's legs. And Emily was instructing her on how she
wanted her philosophy lessons. First, of course, there would
have to be a full revision of her previous course - seven years
had been a long time. She had always adored Dr Mappamundi's
voice in the lecture room, her delightful asides into her private
life and opinions. And now, not all of the time, but all night,
every night, she would belong to Emily.
"We'll start with Platonism and A...A...Oh God, Aristotle," Emily
gasped as Dr Mappamundi's tongue found her out and entered her.
"Thuh..uh doctrine of the muh...mean," Dr Mappamundi spluttered,
causing a delightful frisson in Emily's vagina.
"Oh, Christ, that's gug...gug...gorgeous," Emily shrieked, wiggling
and trying to force her pubic mound into her lover's devouring
mouth. "Hedonism?" she prompted.
"The phhhhh...phhhilosophy," her lover responded, labially into
Emily's mount of Venus, "the philosophy of Epp.p picurus."
"Oh, God, I love it," Emily moaned.
"C... c...cynicism," spluttered Dr Mappamundi, "Sssssstoicism."
Emily bucked wildly and wound her legs around Dr Mappamundi's neck,
then threw back her head and screamed in a shattering orgasm.
Later in bed, intimately wound together, the supremely feminine Dr
Mappamundi breathed into Emily's ear her favoured extracts from
"On the Improvement of the Understanding" by Spinoza, digressing
from time to time on how she depilated her legs or where the
sheerest pantyhose could now be purchased. Then Emily, her
healthy young appetite whetted again, gently eased her lover
onto her back and mounted her. She smiled at the sweet face that
gazed adoringly up at her. "And to think we haven't even got as far
as Bentham and Mill, or Kantian Ethics," Emily breathed happily as
she began to rock gently at first on her adorable lover then with
increasing and delicious urgency atop her adorable mistress.