She’d been doing some kind of yoga demonstration or something in the living room. Nude yoga. This gaggle of sorority girls had come over to grade her form, and they were done, they were getting their coats on. She was maintaining this very taxing like spread-eagle pose, right up on the balls of her feet, not embarrassed in the least of how exposed she was: shaking, about falling over with fatigue, but proud of herself she was holding on so well.

They wouldn’t tell her if she’d passed. She tried to wheedle the blondest and bluest-eyed sorority girl to stay behind so they could have a hang, just the two of them. The girl told her, “You’re not Pledged yet,” and Paula’s heart sank. She said, “I can watch you masturbate though,” and Paula took it that she was being offered extra credit.

She woke to the awareness that actually she was masturbating, had been for a while; and also it was time to give up the ghost. She could hear the clock-radio alarm going in the bedroom. Paula peeled herself up from the cushion and sat in the gray for a minute, naked, squinting.

Why do you let yourself fall asleep out here. It was an old self-argument. But if you woke up in the living room, she thought, it made the night not count. At least she hadn’t been drinking. This was more one of your regret-type hangovers: stuff had happened, you weren’t especially proud, none of it bore remembering. On her way out of the room she almost tripped over her discarded stripper heels. Wincing, Paula collected them without looking, and while she went to the closet to put them out of sight she worked on putting them equally well out of mind.

And she did what you do after a regrettable night: eat a breakfast, get to work, get back in gear. After a dicey weekend nothing slapped Paula in the face with reality quite like a Monday morning standup.

By noon she was herself again. Went for impromptu Thai with Celeste and a few of the account managers. Celeste had a new intern she was hawking around, which was always fun. All Celeste’s interns were of a type, and the new girl—Kearnee or Karney or Kaylor or something, Paula had a mental block with K names—was definitely one of them. It was a power deal, the way Paula took it, like it was leverage having a factotum you knew your male peers would drool over. No way was it about anything as straightforward as sex. Celeste had always struck Paula as less a person than a corporate nexus, she wasn’t deep enough for a lesbian bimbo kink, must less to have one and go around flaunting it.

As little as Paula was ever inclined to drool—nor would she have given Celeste the satisfaction—with this one she had to remind herself. She got all goose-pimply every time she glanced down the table, which she was sure she was doing too often, and every time she did she felt ridiculous and looked right away again. Mid-afternoon Paula went up to the coffee station, and who was there but Celeste’s new fawn, fussing with creams and sugars and a cupholder. Her skirt was ridiculously short for office wear. Paula tried to think of some clever icebreaker while she stood staring at the hem and imagining in spite of herself what you’d see if it rolled up just a bit.

Unawares the girl turned from the machine and the two of them almost knocked heads; she was shorter than Paula but in heels, and at work Paula only ever wore flats. After a moment or two of precarity they both won control of the cupholder together, coffee miraculously all unspilled. Paula blushed hard at the feel of their hands touching, and hoped desperately that the girl hadn’t caught her stare.

She was helpless not to prolong the contact. “Kortney,” the girl said finally, lifting the tray and reclaiming it.

“Right,” Paula said. “Kortney.” I was just trying to remember your name. She waited for something else to come to her, any little clever phrase that would make the girl want to stick around for a minute. “Welcome aboard.”

Paula cringed about it the whole rest of the afternoon. Welcome aboard. Every time it came back to her though it came with a side of tiny little skirt, and soft sleek girl thighs pressed together underneath it, and when she lingered on that vision Paula almost didn’t mind how stupid she’d been.

First thing when she was off for the day, she drew a hot bath and soaked herself calm, then set up the mirror and got to it. She gave herself a mental high five that she’d stopped putting the thing off finally. When it was done she couldn’t take her eyes off: her new smooth bare shiny pussy, that might have been some other girl’s entirely. Some girl Paula maybe should get to know. She marched dripping into the bedroom because she had to get off like mad and she had to watch herself full-length while she did it. The orgasm all but blacked her out. Her legs gave way and she collapsed onto the floor, and when it was over Paula stayed there a while recovering, her face on the carpet, her mind free and clear and easy, certain she’d turned a page

A perk of where she sat was that Paula could see past her monitor straight through to reception, to the big fish tank mounted near the entrance. It was a frequently recurred-to mood enhancer. Outside the dark was drawing down, and no one was on the desk. The tank was still fully lit though.

Friday just before close, and most of the office had bugged out for happy hour. Empty like this was the only time Paula enjoyed having an open plan. She kicked her chair back, clapped her headphones on, and free of the need to brace against interruption let herself drift with the bettas through a gauzy string adagio.

All week she’d felt lost somehow. Rudderless. Every day the same day. Every afternoon Paula haunted the coffee bar hoping to run into Kortney, hoping to unring the bell of her botched introduction; all she got for her trouble was jittery. Stupid Celeste, all notice my new intern everybody and then the girl never shows. Once she did: barely a glimpse of her, disappearing down the hall into the exec wing toting folders. Micro-skirted, of course. Otherwise Paula might have thought she made her up.

She’d dreamt about her that night. The two of them doing office stuff together. Filing. Nothing weird, except Paula was in an identical skirt to Kortney, and she wasn’t wearing panties and every time she bent over the skirt threatened to roll up and give Kortney an eyeful.

Paula sighed. Neither Mozart nor tropical fish were chasing the blues away. She shut the music off and set her headphones by. A small throat-clearing sound came from behind her chair, and Paula swiveled, her pulse thudding in her ears.

It was Kortney. She had her bag in hand, as if she was done for the day. Get out of my head, Paula yelled at her inwardly. Outwardly she was every bit as tongue-tied as before. Slumped in full recline mode, she found herself distressingly at eye level with the girl’s crotch. She didn’t realize she was staring though till she heard Kortney cough a second time.

Smirking, the intern gave her a wink. Paula’s face burned. All Kortney said was “Celeste lookin for ya.”

Such deep blue eyes, Paula thought. She’d never had a real chance to gaze into them before. She waited to see if Kortney’s news would translate itself into action. A brief, noiseless flash of light around the edges of her vision made Paula wonder if there was a storm coming. Kortney leaned forward from the waist, slowly, still with that superior smirk, and for a wild instant Paula was sure she was going to be kissed. Close up against her ear Kortney said “Anchors aweigh,” and giggled and spun and trotted off.

Paula dragged her gaze away from the fishes, sighed heavily and shut down her computer. She had to stop fantasizing about Kortney. At least no one was around who could have seen that her hand was down her pants. Her pussy—her smooth bare pussy—was shockingly wet. She trailed her fingers in the damp and imagined letting them have their way: except she had to see Celeste. She shook herself awake. Celeste needed to see her on her way out.

No one at all was in the back wing when she got there. In the dim of the corridor Celeste’s door stood ajar, and Paula dithered whether to knock or just go on in. Then she heard Kortney’s voice announcing sharply from inside that they didn’t have all day.

Coming from basically twilight the room seemed severely overlit. Paula blinked to adjust her vision. Then it felt like there was some kind of film or something over her eyes, and she had this little flurry of blinks trying to clear it. Behind her Kortney nudged the door closed. “Attention,” the girl said quietly.

Paula wrapped her arms tight under her shoulder blades and thrust her chest forward, feet at hip width, feeling very military all of a sudden, very under command. Kortney, and Kortney’s breasts, pressed up against her back, her breath hot on Paula’s neck, and she reached around wordlessly and plucked open the top button on Paula’s blouse.

Celeste—Paula felt thick-headed that she hadn’t remarked it till now—Celeste wasn’t so much at her desk as on it. Bent from the waist, stretched out flat, head down, ass facing into the room. Her bare legs splayed out and her hands were clutched at the bottom of a thin tight skirt that was stretched to its limit keeping her bits covered. It was a lot to take in all at once. Paula felt a little faint. But Kortney was still behind her, and now her fingers were picking the next button apart, and the next.

At about heart level the girl stopped, and scooped the unbuttoned half of Paula’s blouse tight under her bare breasts. Which was weird itself. How had she gone out of the house today braless? How had she not been aware of it till now? Then Kortney’s hands slid under her boobs and Paula didn’t care less about her mental lapse. A light pinch on her nipple made Paula squeal, and she all but broke Pose.

“A girl in Pose is a happy and a horny girl,” she panted to Kortney. It was a mantra. Paula didn’t know where she’d got it from, but it firmed her up to hear it. Cleared her head.

From the desk, Celeste moaned. “Guess she agrees,” Kortney said. She put a hand to Paula’s wrists, prodded from behind with her knee and marched her into the room till they were standing not much more than arm’s length from Celeste. Kortney told her “at ease” and then went to park herself at the edge of the desk next to her boss. From there she gave Paula a conspicuous once-over, twice, and the look in her eye made Paula’s nips spark all over again.

“Celeste! Paula’s here,” Kortney announced. She swatted her fingers hard on the inside of her boss’s knee. Paula jumped at the slap, and the older woman’s heel jerked up reflexively. She moaned again, and Kortney glanced back at her over her shoulder and said “Oh.” She turned and spent a minute fiddling with something at the back of Celeste’s head.

Celeste spat out a plastic gag. “Thank you Maam,” she said thickly. She coughed a ropy cough. “All right then go on,” Kortney said, “you got something you wanted to tell her?”

“Yes Maam thank you Maam,” Celeste said. “Paula.” The side of her head was on the desk and she was facing away from Paula, and her voice sounded distant, quavery, hollow. “Paula I am a Pledge to the Great Sisterhood. Mistress Kortney is my Pledgemistress. I am her obedient slave and devoted whore.”

Something about the word “pledge” made Paula clench inside. Some empty feeling seemed to well up in her, some kind of dread, and she looked to Kortney for reassurance, but the girl had turned away and was rummaging in her purse. In a tiny voice, the only one she could muster, Paula squeaked, “Celeste …” and it was all she could get out. She had no clue what she’d hoped to say.

Celeste’s skirt was so thin and so tight you could see she had nothing on underneath. Her thighs were quivering. On the inside of one there was a trail of droplets, and a new one descending. Paula licked her lips.

“A Pledge is a happy and a horny girl,” she mused aloud. Celeste moaned again.

She was proud of Celeste, Paula decided. It took guts for someone in her position to make herself vulnerable this way. Kortney set her bag aside and pushed herself off the desk and sauntered back over. She was concealing something in a loose fist, a bit of light chain swaying from it. “Head down,” she told Paula, and then “Hair up,” and then in was around her neck. A dark, heavy little lump that Kortney spent some time making snug between Paula’s breasts.

She stepped back for a look. I’ve seen these before, Paula told herself. “That’s right,” Kortney said, folding her arms, “you get one of your own now.”

A Cube™, that was it. A Girl’s Best Friend™. All the sorority chicks had them. Paula looked up at Kortney, eyes shining. You gave me a present! She was so flattered she could hardly breathe. She wanted to touch it but felt unworthy. “It’s …” she choked out, “it’s …”

Another lightning flash. Paula wasn’t sure where they could be coming from: Celeste’s office was windowless. Must really be some storm, she thought. She listened for the thunder but none came.

Paula sighed out some little tension, and her eyes found their way back to Celeste’s ass. So where else should they go, she asked some naysayer in her head. She was tired of having to pretend just because it was Celeste and they were in Celeste’s office that she didn’t enjoy a big juicy rump on display as much as the next girl.

“Celeste,” Kortney barked, “quit dawdling. Finish your spiel.”

The older woman drew an audible, shuddering breath. “Paula my Mistress is training me for use as an anal slut.” The sentence came out tonelessly, in a single rush of words. You couldn’t tell if she knew there was anyone else in the room with her. “I am obedient to her in all things. You are a witness to this Obedience.”

Celeste was having trouble keeping control of her breathing. She seems to be going through it, Paula thought. Whatever it was. She wondered if maybe she could offer some moral support. She opened her mouth. “Hang on,” Kortney said in her ear, “there’s a show.”

All at once Celeste grunted, hitched her hips up off the desk and in a single convulsive gesture hiked the miniskirt all the way to her waist. Her ass cheeks shook like Jello, but all Paula could see was the garnet-colored rhinestone peeking out from in between.

I’m dreaming, Paula told herself. That would explain it. Still at her desk probably, staring at the fish. Maybe she was hypnotized. Maybe it wasn’t even Paula’s dream. Maybe Celeste was a big old dyke pervert and Paula was just a prop in hers.

Celeste spread her legs as far as they’d go and pulled aside one of her ass cheeks with one hand while the other closed around the jewel. Her mouth opened as if to scream, but the only noise she made was a sad little eep! when the thing popped out. Celeste dropped it on the desk in front of her and reached back to spread herself with both hands. Paula had only ever seen a butt plug in a novelty shop. She’d never imagined one in actual use. She had no idea you could get a hole to go that wide.

Kortney leaned into her and prompted, “Obedience witnessed and—” and Paula at once threw her shoulders back and piped up, “Obedience witnessed and acknowledged, Celeste!” The older woman gasped once, and lifted her head weakly an inch or so above the desk before dropping it back, and Paula had to reckon with the fact that she’d just watched the boss come.

It seemed to Paula she could see Celeste’s butthole pulsing. It looked so deep and so dark she almost couldn’t stand it. Kortney nudged at her with her elbow. “It’s somethin, huh?” she said. “Girl’s a natural. Hey.” She fixed Paula with a wicked stare. “Go on stick your tongue in there.”

“What? No!” Paula’s eyes bugged out. “Really?” She glanced uncertainly at Celeste’s mascara-streaked empty face.

“Don’t look at her,” Kortney snapped. “Go on,” she said more cajolingly. “Quick in and out. You know you wanna.”

Paula felt a kind of encouraging tickle coming from her Cube™. Quickly, before she could disagree with herself, she bent down and made a little drill of her tongue and swirled it into Celeste’s gaping anus.

It tasted salty. Sweaty. Nothing bad, thank god. She popped immediately back up, her hand covering her mouth, giddy with her own brazenness. You did NOT, Paula said to herself. “I can’t believe I just did that!” she gasped at Kortney.

Kortney was laughing. “I kinda can’t believe it either,” she said. “You’re a live one.” She glanced down at the desk. “Alright Celeste, release.”

Celeste groaned “Thank you Maam” and let go of her ass cheeks. Kortney put a couple fingers at the hollow of Paula’s throat, as if feeling for her pulse there, and then trailed them down the breastbone. When she got to the top of the Cube™ Paula was dripping. “Okay then sailor,” Kortney said, tapping the Cube™ for emphasis, “let’s um, shove off I guess. Back home with ya. New best friend’s gonna want some get-acquainted time.”

Celeste groped around on the desk for the butt plug, though it was right in front of her eyes, and brought it to her mouth. With a pained, unfocused expression she began sliding her tongue up and down the bell like she meant to fellate it. “Better find some spit from somewhere bitch,” Kortney told her, and turned away back to the desk.

Paula wandered to the door and stood there for a moment disconsolate, staring at the knob like she resented it. Were they gonna keep on doing butt stuff without her? It didn’t seem fair. Behind her Celeste gagged, and Paula pivoted to try to see what was happening, and the Cube™ buzzed her with another little tickle.

At least tell her how you feel, Paula scolded herself. “I love my new Cube™,” she said plaintively to the back of Kortney’s head. Without turning the girl raised her hand in a brief, dismissive wave. Another buzz. You want to be a coward your whole life? “I love you Beth!” Paula exclaimed, then immediately quick-shut Celeste’s door, before there could be a reaction, and skittered away down the hall. Her face was hot with shame and in her head it was going stupid stupid stupid why would you call her that but her heart was singing.

The outer office had gone fully dark now; even the fish were off duty. It was exhilarating, walking through the lobby with her tits out. Paula felt like she could take on the world. She wouldn’t have buttoned up if it were broad day and the place full. Fuck em all, she thought, let em see. Let em know whose girl she was now.

On the bare little plaza outside the entrance she paused, amazed it wasn’t storming. The night was clear and calm without a trace of weather. Her Cube™ flashed several times in staccato at her feet and Paula understood she was being urged home. “We need our get-acquainted time,” she told the Cube™. The flashes receded down the steps and onto the sidewalk and she followed.

Her assigned parking was in the back lot, the only direct way there a wooded, ill-lit path over a brook that Paula never used past sundown. But she got so caught up in the rhythm of flash-and-walk that she was going that way before she knew it. She shivered a little crossing the footbridge, but it was just reflex. She wasn’t afraid. Fear was for girls who made decisions. Girls without a Best Friend™. Paula emptied her mind of everything that wasn’t Beth, and Beth’s touch; and the night shrank to a point at her feet and she strode easily, thoughtlessly forward in the Cube™’s light.