Pum Pum Rock

4. Apple Jacks

Yellow. Green. Red. These were her client's safe words and as a Dominatrix for hire, Tru Lee had spent the last two hours riding that fine line of intensity. "Yellow" signaled that although a client was closing in on her pain threshold, Tru should continue punishing her. "Green" meant keep going, but if a client yelled "red" the session was as good as dead. Tru had dubbed this formula the pleasure principle and after three years on the job, she'd mastered it.

She was a true chameleon and that night at the upscale seaside inn, Tru's clients had requested that the Dominatrix transform into a classic, albeit callous schoolgirl. The curvaceous half black, half Korean woman dressed in clunky glasses, a short plaid skirt and white button-down tied just below her naturally full breasts. Having just concluded a heated S & M session complete with spankings, sensual massage, and lap dances, the strong-willed twenty-five-year-old was running late and needed to wrap things up.

Followed closely behind by a middle-aged woman, Tru slipped into a black pea-coat and swung open the double doors leading to the penthouse suite. Tru smirked as the woman with the plump face and pear-like physique tried unsuccessfully to conceal a set of indisputably erect nipples, that had moments prior been gripped by the ferocity of metal clamps.

"Incredible," Tru whispered in the woman's ear while giving her round rear a good squeeze.

"So next week then, Mistress?" The woman, her face flushed and skin red hot, enveloped Tru in a long hug, allowing her hands to roam up and under the short Catholic school skirt.

"Maybe," Tru pulled away. Keep 'em guessing—whether it was personal or professional, this was her mantra, and at the present moment, it was paying off big time.

"Maybe?" The woman mimicked Tru, then slid a manila envelope full of cash into her oversized purse, all while pulling her in close for a kiss. Tru was fast. With a nod of the head and wave of the finger, she was able to let the woman down with both style and ease as she had a strict no kissing policy.

"A lot going on next week. Email me," Tru said.

"We look forward to it, Mistress!" The woman's lover exclaimed as smoke from a menthol cigarette poured from her mouth. She was around Tru's age, laying in bed and playing with a red ballgag that had minutes ago been used to adorn her wide mouth.

Tru swept the bangs of her short, red bob out of her eyes and winked at the woman's lover. The bulk of Tru's clients were submissive men, so as a lesbian Tru got a kick out of being contracted by females, especially hot chocolate femmes like the one laying in bed before her. As much as she tried to keep it professional, Tru was unapologetic about the fact that her line of work did come with some incredible perks.

"Take care. Both of you." Tru kissed the older woman on the cheek, then slunk toward the end of the corridor. There she was met by a man dressed in a black, three-piece suit and eerie, half-face, skeleton style motorcycle helmet.

"Going down?" He asked, extending his arm and escorting Tru into the elevator.

"Maybe later!" She laughed as the elevator doors dinged shut.

Moments later, Tru was throwing a duffle bag into the trunk of her 1995 cherry red BMW 325i and making a left out of the parking lot as her bodyguard steered his motorcycle in the opposite direction. A legit professional, Tru had mastered the art of the hotel quick change. In under seven minutes flat, she'd managed to swap out wigs and transform her sultry self into a much more casual look.

As the cool ocean breeze whisked through the convertible and Tru's now eggplant colored pixie, the custom-built stereo pumped out a previous episode of Nate's podcast—The Naked Truth with Natty-One: