Rose on Fire

Note to reader: Rose's story may become part of a longer series, but for now this is the first foray into her experiences.

Rose Wallace gasped under her breath as the sting from an old fashioned, ornate hairbrush connected to the right cheek of her peach shaped bottom. Suspended on hands and knees, she wielded the fancy implement with her right hand. The plush softness of her pillow top mattress challenged her balance with her ankles and legs cinched tight with Shibari rope. Her crimson silk robe gathered above the small of her back for good purchase of exposed skin. She relished at the sight of her naked sex through a folding tri-mirror attached to the back of her mahogany dresser.

She loved to focus her efforts on the same cheek with repeated swats to generate a beautiful contrast of the angry red versus the virgin creamy white of the unblemished left. Though not painful, the rope she used will leave lovely braided dermatographism on her thighs and calves for at least the next few hours.

When she gave herself a rest from the self spanking, a wave of heat and latent pain would wash over the brush-shaped impact zone of her ample but toned backside. She relished in the near-future gift of sting the moment she will sit down to work.

After twenty minutes of relentless self torture, her iPhone gently reminded her of the 9:30 AM board meeting. Ten minutes to blouse up and put on a suit top and bottom, she thought. Rose fancied for a moment the risk of sitting on camera with her just-out-of-view naked slit smothered below her against the walnut seat of her nineteenth century rail back chair. Her mind frolicked at the internal self-dare.

Knowing she had precious little time, she untied the intricately woven Shibari rope from her knees and lower parts of her legs. However, her self-help rope play is a hollow, faint echo and poor substitute for the careful work of an experienced partner.

Once free of the ropes, she stood on the floor and her silk robe danced down her skin to her ankles. Her naked sex felt the puff of air from the falling garment. She would later store the rope in an heirloom hope chest at the foot of her four post bed. However, the ornate brush always remained in sight on her dresser. The thought of any visitor seeing the fancy brush and not knowing what lovely torture it exacts upon her draws an involuntary grin to the corners of her mouth.

As she pulled up her lacy low-cut panties, the graze of the waistband stung her throbbing right cheek like an over-starched shirt on sunburnt skin. She reveled in the pain. This time, she imagined the hairbrush outline will be there for an entire week - she hoped. She donned her blouse and suit hurriedly.

She walked briskly to the kitchen, aware of the time constraints.

Rose poured herself a second cup of coffee and mentally transformed into whom she had to be on the meeting. As she walked past the mirror she made sure no errant wisps of her naturally dark red hair had escaped her braided bun. Her cat-eye Gucci glasses were smudge free, and her tailored Ralph Lauren suit sculpted her sultry forty-seven year old physique like a medical exam glove. '9:28,' said the wall-hung mini grandfather clock with zodiac signs instead of numbers. It was currently the 'Sagittarius' hour.

As she lowered herself down to her rail back chair, she had momentarily forgotten the recent self-flagellation. Suddenly, the red hot pain from her right cheek radiated outward like a solar flare as she sat. Exquisite burning - her chest heaved from the pleasure as her diaphragm involuntarily drew a deep inhale of breath.

As the second hand confirmed 9:29, she clicked the Zoom link. 'Waiting for the host to start this meeting' appeared on her screen as she took a long draught of her steaming espresso roast coffee. The meeting then opened with six of the other seven board members present as well as her right-hand woman and confidant, Jean Zaminsky, her Executive assistant.

"Chairman Wallace, do you want me to start with the minutes or should we wait for Brett to join as well?" Rose's executive assistant asked.

"Yes, you can start it, Jean. He had a copy emailed to him before the meeting, didn't he?" Rose asked.

"Of course, Ms. Wallace," Jean replied with her usual polite, yet confident cadence.

"First up, before the minutes, do we have any updates on the cash and stock offer of five billion USD for the advertising agency in Japan?" Jean asked the quorum of board members.

A board member voiced, "They expressed concern over our stock price and wanted to know if we could change the percentage of cash to a higher amount as a small hedge in the current volatility of the major indices."

Another countered, "If they want to renegotiate, this is not the way to do it at the eleventh hour."

As the meeting droned on about things of 'great concern', Rose's attention drifted back, as it often did, to the post-thesis party held by her Law, Economics and Geopolitics professor and chair of the MBA program, Dr. Kaplan.

It was twenty years ago that she was invited, along with her other graduating MBA classmates, to Dr. Kaplan's seaside home on Long Island, New York to cap off the thesis defense season - a virtual end to their MBA program. On the topic of Dr. Kaplan himself, she only had him for two classes throughout her entire program, but from the moment he set foot in the classroom on the first day of her first class with him, he completely captivated her. His very presence in the classroom felt more like a naval captain on deck than your typical professor type. She couldn't possibly be the only one that felt it. The grey on the sides of his head meshed perfectly with the raven black, short-trimmed top that gave off a Connery James Bond motif sans the Scottish accent. The timbre of his voice was a crisp baritone. In class, she hung on every word - watched the shapes his mouth made as he spoke. The way he stood, and looked down upon his subjects. After class, she would then have to actually read and learn the lesson separately. Though she heard the sounds coming from his mouth, her brain replaced them with pornographic dialogue, like "Please open your book, bend over, and put your elbows on your desk and close your eyes."

She remembers very few details of the party, and hardly remembers who from her class had been in attendance. But her memory gets razor sharp around the late hour when all other students left. She was at the threshold of Dr. Kaplan's front door and even managed to step one of her leather booted feet to the porch.

"Care for one more nightcap, Rose?" Dr. Kaplan asked.

Frozen, knowing that 'Commander Kaplan' was inviting her to linger on for however long it took to make and consume another Manhattan captivated her. Of course she'd have another.

"As long as you are making them, Dr. K, I'm in," Rose replied, and made an about-face turn and swung off her thin leather coat in the same action - madly faking poise. She had no real choice in the matter.

Dr. Kaplan smiled at her ratification of his request and politely accepted her coat in his hands for safekeeping.

"Why don't you have a seat in the library, I asked the staff to stoke the fireplace before they left - I'll go make sure we have enough rye left in the bottle. One cherry or two?" Dr. Kaplan playfully asked.

"Whatever you can afford, Dr. K, I know budgets are tight at the school these days with those chairperson salaries," Rose jested sarcastically - hoping dearly that her pun landed.

"Touché my pupil, touché," Dr. Kaplan responded with an echo chamber voice from the long corridor between the library and the chef's kitchen.

"Where is the library, by the way, I don't think any of us saw it during the party?" Rose called out to Dr. Kaplan.

Now behind a door in the kitchen, Dr. Kaplan's voice returned faintly, "All the way down the hall, turn left and first room on the left."

Rose made her way according to Dr. Kaplan's instructions, and entered into a massive room with mahogany built-in bookshelves filled to capacity and a desk with an ancient looking hourglass and various old-fashioned knickknacks. Oddly out of place was an ornate hairbrush laying facedown revealing a mosaic of jade-like gemstones depicting a blooming lotus flower.

The fireplace blazed, tickling the old timey book spines with a flickering amber glow. A tall grandfather clock stood watch and reported 11:07. A metal semi-circle etched with the outline of a moon and stars appeared at the bottom of the clock's face to indicate PM.

As she slinked around the library, she observed the books were as diverse as a small public library. A sturdy wooden ladder mounted upon wheels offered access to the books above seven feet that appeared to go up to what must be fourteen foot ceilings.

Rose found it interesting that the guests were delicately cordoned away from this room. Somehow, being in this sanctuary of his was more titillating than the thought of being in his bedroom. As Rose ran her finger along a ream of books at her eye level, she saw a framed photo of a man on what appeared to be a fishing trip. He had slicked black hair, shirtless, and standing on a boat holding up a rather large fish, perhaps three feet in length. It must be Dr. Kaplan as a young man. He was just as enthralling then as he is now. He was smiling in the photo but there was also an intensity behind his countenance that had a hypnotic effect on her.

"Rose... your drink," Dr. Kaplan kindly reported as if he may have been waiting there for minutes, watching her.

"Thank you so much. This room is really great - Cheers!" Rose extended her Manhattan filled lead-crystal glass to 'tink' against Dr. Kaplan's matching drink.

"You like it? I love being surrounded by books. Some people love cats and dogs, but my books provide what I think is the same kind of companionship and solace," he said.

"I feel the same. I couldn't help but notice that picture on the bookcase of the guy fishing. Is that you? It's a trip to see you that young," Rose said.

Dr. Kaplan responded, but ignored the question, but it seemed he waited a beat before doing so. It wasn't an awkward length of time, but it was noticeable to Rose.

"So your thesis. I've never once had a student use erotic rope-tying as an analogy to Japanese business culture. Pretty brazen, even though it was only a footnote. At least two faculty members brought it up with me with some concern. I explained to them that you certainly were right that there is an analogy between the respect paid to a captive in Shibari and the respect Japanese business culture bestows upon its competitors, even ones they've clearly outgunned," Dr. Kaplan said, as he relaxed into a plush leather chair, Manhattan drink in hand.

"Well thank you for saving me from the Spanish Inquisition!" Rose punned with a grin.

"Have a seat," Dr. Kaplan suggested, with an outstretched hand pointing towards the matching chair.

A few beats of time drummed louder than a full symphony orchestra, as Rose was completely unprepared for not only being alone with him, but for him to bring up the bit of 'bondage' she snuck into her thesis. In a way, it was a little form of exhibitionism - dipping her toes as it were. Enthralled at the thought of latent discovery, but wholly gobsmacked to be quizzed on it in person- by Him!

Rose sat down on a matching leather chair. Between them, an old fashioned chess set. A game that perhaps was ongoing between Dr. Kaplan and a remote friend overseas. However, Rose quickly deduced the game was over, White's king was toppled to the side with only a bishop and pawn remaining. Black retained a rook, both knights and a bishop. Submission may have been protracted and lengthy given the remaining pieces.

She looked up and locked eyes with Dr. Kaplan, aware that something in her was laid bare before him despite her attempt to keep the banter light and playful. She was convinced he could see her desire to be commanded by him easier than he could see himself in a mirror.

Her black pencil skirt all of a sudden felt as transparent as rice paper. She felt a heat rise from her loins, move past her hardening nipples and to the base of her neck. Her skin felt like it may be matching the crimson color of her cardigan.

As she shifted her legs slightly to attempt a reboot of equilibrium, she felt the slightest viscous slip of skin between her labia - wetness betraying her composure. She felt the need to scream and admit her wantonness like the Narrator in the Tell Tale Heart. Surely the likes of him must sense her lust as one can sense light from darkness!

Dr. Kaplan leaned forward with his crystal glass clasped between his hands, "Elegant and respectful submission. Yes, I think you couldn't have made a finer point. Most theses are great, but not many are as exceptional. Where do you think you'll go on from here?" Dr. Kaplan asked.

Rose mentally exhaled like a whale surfacing after the deepest and longest dive. Thankful that she didn't scream out her pornographic thoughts as an answer to a completely normal inquiry from her Professor. The Tell Tale throb hidden below her skirt's waistband retreated just enough to avoid a physically visible shudder.

"Well, I definitely want to travel before I settle into a career, or in the best of situations, have a job where world travel is required," Rose said, with a modicum of self-control. She took a long sip of her manhattan. The vermouth infused rye had just the right amount of cherry juice to cut through the whiskey's burn. Given this was her third drink, every sip seemed to chip away at her ability to avoid getting flushed each time her eyes connected with Dr. Kaplan's.

"Rose, do you think a business negotiation is won well before it has even started?" Dr. Kaplan said - hands still clasped around his drink which was now half empty. His grey-blue eyes X-rayed her soul. "In other words, do you believe one party is already... submissive to the other in any given business negotiation?" He interrogated.

Rose's hard swallow could be heard in the neighboring town. "Well Dr. Kaplan, if we are shifting towards Chinese culture with your obvious reference to Sun Tzu - and if there are obvious and objective disparities in... experience, resources and strategy; the answer must be 'yes'," Rose replied, feeling all the moisture leaving her throat.

"Clever," Dr. Kaplan said with a smile and continued, "I have a book you might like. Have you read Musashi, the epic Japanese Samurai historical fiction?" "It's right at eye-level at the ladder over there, if you want to have a look," Dr. Kaplan said.

Without any verbal response, Rose placed her glass on the table holding the chess board, stood and stepped toward the book case.

As she leaned into the ladder to search for the novel, without any warning, Dr. Kaplan was right behind her. Aware of his presence, she continued, undaunted and located Musashi - a massive hardbound copy in English. Just as she reached with her right hand to retrieve it, she felt Dr. Kaplan's left hand press on top of Rose's left fingers which she was using to steady herself on the ladder that leans into the bookcase. One of his fingers slipped between her ring and index finger, but the magnitude of the entry felt more like the parting of the red sea. Electricity ran from the cleft of her two fingers at light speed to her nether regions.

"Let me help you," Dr. Kaplan said, as he reached past her right arm and retrieved "Musashi".

The bookcase had a healthy length of shelving in front of each book. Dr. Kaplan laid the massive book on its side, and upon opening the leather hardbound cover, the inside of the book was completely carved out and contained several red gasket-coiled ropes.

To Rose, it felt as it someone had vacuumed all of the oxygen out of the room and turned the heat up to the Death Valley setting. The fire near the bookcase, at waist level for Rose, magnified the heat swelling between her legs and up her chest.

"Do you want to sample a chapter or two together?" Dr. Kaplan baritoned just above a whisper into her right ear.

"Yes, Professor," Rose replied as gooseflesh asserted itself on the back of her neck where she detected his breath as he spoke.

"You understand, I am not really holding you here. If you ask to leave, I will respect your wishes, and bid you farewell. You will only be held here by your own choice," Dr. Kaplan explained.

Rose squeezed her ring and middle fingers together, clasping Dr. Kaplan's. "I don't want to leave," Rose said.

Dr. Kaplan then hooked his left finger around Rose's hands, and with a swift movement, spun Rose such that her back was against the ladder, and she was leaning backwards at a slight angle towards the bookcase.

The fireplace fractals in Dr. Kaplan's eyes shined fearsomely. Their eyes now only inches apart. He learned towards her neck, and she tilted her head slightly to offer greater access. The bridge of his nose swept her red locks backward and exposed her left shoulder and neck. The dry air caused by the fireplace resulted in the tiniest static shock when his lips finally landed on the skin covering her clavicle. He then ran his slightly flexed tongue towards the middle of her neck.

Rose exhaled forcefully. "This feels crazy...," Rose said.

"You have no idea how crazy it can be," Dr. Kaplan spoke in a dark tone, his voice slightly muffled as his mouth was on her neck and her thick red hair swirled about his face providing a natural anechoic effect.

"I want to know everything that you can show me... I have never...," Rose said breathily as she exhaled.

"I know," the Professor said.

Passion filled her breast. A red glow, independent of the fire's light show, crept up past the bust line of her sweater to the base of her neck. Embarrassed, she knew that this light 'play' already had her sopping wet - it was almost too much to take.

Dr. Kaplan then raised his head and locked eyes with Rose. "Last chance to fly away little starling. Otherwise, turn around," the Professor said playfully.

Rose peered into his eyes, knowing that he could already read her answer, and blinked slowly as if under the influence of a tranquilizing, hypnosis-inducing drug. As she leaned forward a bit to exit from her 'trust fall' stance, she slowly turned and her body caressed against Dr. Kaplan's as a slow revolving door would brush against its contoured drum wall.

"Lean your body against the ladder," Dr. Kaplan instructed. He put his hands on her flanks, offering her a safe and slow way to lean forward. He reached around and began to unbutton her red cardigan from the top button. His wrists brushed against Rose's already stiffened nipples, sending pleasure signals around her brain, overwhelming her with the anticipation of the unknown.

His hands moved deftly downward through each button, as the last one was finished, he grasped the lapels at her clavicle level and peeled the sweater downward and off of her arms. With the fireplace only two or three feet away, the radiating heat licked her abdomen and chest.

From behind, the fireplace light formed a corona around Rose's long, statuesque figure.

"Do you trust me?" Dr. Kaplan asked Rose.

"I trust you," Rose replied.

"I need complete trust," Dr. Kaplan said.

"You have it," Rose said with equal juxtaposed parts of ecstasy and equanimity. A calm befell her like no other moment in her life. She could spend an eternity as his captive and want for nothing else.

Dr. Kaplan then folded and placed the sweater neatly on the chair where Rose had been sitting. Returning to her, he wrapped his hands lightly over her knees, above the bottom hem of Rose's black pencil skirt and slowly grazed his hands up to her waist.

Rose felt a tug on the right side where the zipper was located and immediately felt the loosening of the protections of her skirt. As Dr. Kaplan reached the bottom catch of the zipper, the skirt drooped lazily. Another wave of pleasure engulfed her as she was nearly fully exposed in the Professor's presence. Again, in her periphery, she watched Dr. Kaplan take great care with her skirt; folding it and placing it on top of her cardigan.

She now stood, facing and leaning against the cherry wood ladder in matching black lace panties and bra. The lace was severely see-through. Though he could not see currently, her hard pink nipples were clearly visible and pushing needfully against the lace. The cleft line of her pert bottom was clearly displayed through the low-cut black panty bottoms.

Dr. Kaplan now stood against her backside. She could feel his pelvis against her ass. He ice skated his fingertips from her hips to the sides of her chest, and now coaxing her arms above her head.

"Keep your arms up and against the ladder," Dr. Kaplan instructed.

Rose's body responded to the command, thirsting for more insistence from him - holding her arms above her head.

She saw Dr. Kaplan's hand as it reached towards the decoy, hollowed-out book to retrieve one of the gasket coiled ropes.

Dr. Kaplan unwound the rope and then slowly tied Rose's wrists to either side of the ladder - intricately weaving it around her wrists and lower down the sides of the ladder, with repeated chain-linked knots as he progressed down towards her elbows. Slowly, her arms became immobile. It was tight, but loose enough for blood to flow.

Rose then felt him running a second rope around her chest, above her breasts, and making successive circles almost to her nipples, and then began a second course just below her nipples, cinching it tightly. Her breasts protruded forward as it was tightened. The feeling of pressure and seeing her tits bulging outward from the only slit he provided tantalized her.

"Does anything hurt?" Dr. Kaplan asked.

"No, Professor," Rose responded.

Dr. Kaplan then proceeded to make concentric circles around her body and the ladder. She could easily breathe, but her upper body was now moored and rigged. A captive in every sense, though if the ropes were loosened, she harbored no desire to escape.

Now capable of suspension, Dr. Kaplan coaxed one of her legs to the sides in a slight half-straddle. Again, he intricately tied her leg, at shin level to the side of the ladder. As he moved to her other leg, she was then able to be suspended above the floor, and he finished with concentric circles and knots every other circle around her shin and thigh until she was bound tightly to the ladder. Her legs now slightly parted adding to her vulnerability.

Rose then heard Dr. Kaplan walk away toward his desk, and saw him retrieve the ornate hairbrush. Trepidation of the unknown gripped her, but she would eat every morsel of this version of fear and ask for seconds. The feeling of being completely immobile and at his command raised her arousal to a point that she had the distinct and abstract mental summation that she may never reach this level of nirvana, ever again. She was sharply self-aware that her sex had not been touched, and yet an orgasm felt possible if a single hot breath were to graze her clit.

Dr. Kaplan's leather shoes made a satisfying tap against the hardwood floors as he returned to Rose. He then moved her along the floor on the wheeled ladder to the center of fireplace. Though the blaze had now quelled into smoldering embers, she could still feel the hearth radiating her already sopping sex. The heat felt like a living being in front of her, like an invisible lucid-dream incubus, feverishly tonguing her.

In her periphery again, she could see the brush in his hands. She then felt Dr. Kaplan carefully slide her panties down, fully exposing her backside but being careful to not strain the delicate lace of her lingerie.

"You were my captive the moment you walked in my door today," Dr. Kaplan said.

"I was your captive the moment you walked into my first class with you," Rose replied.

"Look forward, and keep your eyes there," Dr. Kaplan commanded.

"Yes, Professor," Rose acquiesced.

The first swat of the hairbrush on her exposed right cheek sent a firestorm of pain and pleasure signals from thousands of nerve endings to a confluence in her brain. She let out an audible and involuntary gasp.

Dr. Kaplan then landed another impact in the exact same spot on her ass. An outline of the brush could already been seen in Rose's fair skin.

He then turned the brush around and ever-so-lightly raked the bristles over the red flesh of her bottom.

"Uhnnnnnnnn," Rose groaned.

He then turned the brush around and slowly rode it from the back side of her right knee, over her panties, and then slowly pushed it into the apex of her legs. The handle just barely grazed her wet labia.

She shivered and shuddered in pleasure. An orgasm mocked her from behind a thinly veiled wall, letting her know it could break through at any moment despite her protest.

"You may not come just yet, do you understand?" Dr. Kaplan asked.

"I... I don't know if I can hold it back... fuck...," Rose said, in a slight voice just above a whisper.

Dr. Kaplan withdrew the hairbrush, and laid into her with three more smacks on her right cheek in rapid succession. The right side of her ass now displayed a prominent crimson outline of the tool in stark contrast to the untouched left cheek.

He then put the bristle part of the brush in his hands and very slowly and carefully put the handle of the brush on her lips. She could smell her own sex and feel the slippery excretions. He then coaxed the handle into her mouth.

With his left hand, he ran his fingertips lovingly over her dark red brush-beaten cheek. Pain and pleasure in equal measures overtook her senses. The handle pushing into her mouth gave her feeling of exquisite helplessness.

Rose then felt his hand push between her ass and panties. His movements were so slow and carefully maneuvered that anticipation was able to be built in every inch of her skin that was about to be touched. She then felt his fingers reach her inner labia. She distinctly knew this was the first time he was touching his skin on her sex. She felt his thumb and opposing finger part her lips and then felt the welcome invasion of a finger into her vulva. She was dripping down her leg. His hand was already fully covered in her honey.

He then moved several fingers up to her clit, and his thumb slowly entered her pussy. In that moment, she felt as if he was holding her up with one hand just by her sex, as the ropes provided the serenity of suspension.

She was so close she was going to explode.

He then withdrew the hairbrush from her mouth and placed it on the bookshelf.

"I want you to beg me to come," Dr. Kaplan demanded.

"Oh my god. I need to. I won't be able to stop it if you move one more time. I am on the fucking edge. I am begging you... let me come on your hand, please!" Rose beseeched fervently as someone would ask to be removed from burning flames.

Dr. Kaplan kept his fingers on her clit still, and pushed his thumb further into her pussy. He then moved the fingers on her clit ever so slightly - daring her to withstand the sensation. He then reached his right hand into the bra cup of her right breast, and for the first time explored the length of her hardened nipple. He tweezed the little hard flesh between his fingers and twisted just the slightest amount.

The pleasure and pain cross-fade made Rose dizzy.

Rose shuddered and clenched her ass cheeks together in an attempt to thwart the incoming orgasm.

"You may come now," Dr. Kaplan said. As he spoke those words, he circled his fingers around her clit softly, and then gently squeezed his thumb and fingers together, tugging at her sensitive inner labia, pushing against her g-spot and clit all at once and pinched her aching nipple.

An involuntary wave of intense pleasure began erupting from deep below her abdomen.

"I'm coming... oh my god... I'm fucking coming!" Rose exclaimed in unadulterated pleasure.

She felt her cunt clench on Dr. Kaplan's fingers as the initial intense moment of orgasm gripped her, involuntarily, much like the ropes clutched her body.

Then, involuntary spasms pulsated, as her sex fluid leaked onto Dr. Kaplan's hand.

He kept squeezing as subsequent orgasmic contractions throbbed inside her.

"Fuuuuuuuck," was all Rose could utter, as her orgasm was longer and more powerful than any time she had ever had fucked or masturbated before.

The pulsations began to subside. Rose's body slumped into the care of the ropes. Dr. Kaplan gave one last loving squeeze of her insides and withdrew his hand.

Several beats of time progressed with zero movement from either of them, as if they were locked in time and space; figurines in a snow globe engaged in forever-wanton bliss.

The tall grandfather clock began it's bell chime at midnight. Yet the chime was off, it was the sound of Rose's cell phone. The memory of Dr. Kaplan began to fade away and she realized she had entered a deep daydream state.

It rang again. Her screen reported "Your meeting has ended."

Her phone displayed 'Jean Zaminsky'. Rose answered, "Oh my god, Jean, what happened? I kind of blanked out."

"Hi Ms. Wallace. It isn't a problem. I saw you were deep in thought and I turned off your video for you, and if anyone asked anything I was just going to tell them your computer has been having trouble. Nobody asked you anything. Everything is completely fine. Are you okay?" Jean asked with genuine concern.

"You are a lifesaver Jean what in the world would I do without you. Yea, I don't know, I have been a bit out of it. I haven't taken a vacation in two years. I just can't stand the thought of going on vacation by myself after Jeff and I split up. I don't know, Jean. I am sorry you had to cover for me," Rose said with palpable gratefulness.

"That's what I'm here for Ms. Wallace. I gotchu," Jean said.

"Put lunch on our calendar for two at Dorzia this Friday. You're the best," Rose said.

As Rose turned off her computer screen, she glanced over at the brush, her eyes traced around the white lotus flower. She closed her eyes and felt the throbbing burn from the right side of her bottom and exhaled; wondering what might have happened if she had ever returned to Dr. Kaplan's home after that singular night. For now, she will simply savor it for what it was, and the indelible mark it left behind.