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On Monday, Ophelia avoids Dr. Davis' classroom like the black plague. She stays near Judy's or Mr. Roger's classroom, alternating between the two. In front of her, Mr. Rogers is currently teaching a lesson on the different types of muscle; skeletal, cardiac, and smooth. She has the lesson plan on the desk, watching the student's reactions to certain topics discussed and noting which ones they might need to go over again tomorrow.

The bell sounds, signaling the end of 3rd period. Ophelia reminds the students about the pages they should read tonight, wishing them all a great day. "That was good."

Mr. Roger picks up his thermos of coffee. "I saw a few confused faces in the middle row."

"Yeah, I marked on which parts, so far all the classes are the same." She goes around his desk and pulls the powerpoint back up onto the board. "I think colored pictures instead of black and white would be better so that the students can tell the difference in structure."

He drinks from his thermos, making a shoo motion with his hand. "Go ahead then Ophelia, you know I don't care if you alter any of the lessons."

"Thanks, Mr. Rogers." At his glare, she smiles kicking the leg of his chair lightly, "Alan, yes, I know you said to call you that." He harumphs into his thermos but there's a twinkle in his eye that lets Ophelia know he's in a joking mood.

"Did you have a good weekend with your friend?" He pulls out his old iPhone 6. He insisted he only kept it because it had a button on it. Ophelia could see the appeal, but she adored her Samsung. "I went fishing with my grandson, here look at the fish he caught."

Ophelia was expecting a child but her eyes went wide, mouth dropping open at the hunk on the screen. The man was blonde and green-eyed, with sun-kissed skin, and wearing only cargo shorts as he stood up in a boat with a fish in his hands. He had a large white smile with the beginnings of a six-pack. He looked like a country himbo.

She grabs his phone in her hands while he laughs at her sputtering. "This is your grandson?" Ophelia shoves the phone in his face, "This grown man?"

"Yes, Felix. He's around your age." A gleam enters his eyes. "He's single, just broke up with his girlfriend a few months ago."

Ophelia sticks her tongue out at him, "Nope, I'm fine Alan."

"He just finished his master's in marine biology." Alan reclines back, a smug air about him. "He moves to the Texas Gulf soon, got a job down there."

Not a himbo, just a really country-looking smart guy. "I hate Texas, heard bad things about the military bases there."

"Texas is lovely and you'll never run out of activities to do. You can drive 12 hours in one direction and still be in the state. El Paso is great." He stands heading to the door. The next group of students comes pouring inside after he opens it. "I can give you his number."

Ophelia makes a run for it, ducking thru the doorway. "Gotta go check on Judy's class. Later Alan!" She did not in fact visit the biology classroom. Instead, Ophelia went to the front office and ran some errands for them. Then she went to the math department and checked on most of the classrooms to make sure no one needed any assistance. Lastly, she winds up in the English wing. She checks her watch. The lunch bell is about to go off for this area.

She patiently waits outside Samantha's classroom, humming lightly. Above the bell chimes and chaos erupts. Students flood the hallway going in various directions. There's yelling and body shoving. Ophelia slips inside Samantha's class, overwhelmed.

Samantha has her back turned, bent over her front table. There are stacks of essays in a row. She's talking to herself, writing on a sticky note. She places the yellow sticky note on each pile, each with a different number on them. Ophelia quietly moves behind her, holding her breath. When she is directly behind Samantha, she grabs the woman's sides, tickling her.

"What the fuck!" Samantha turns around, slapping Ophelia's hands away. "Ophelia? What was that about?"

Ophelia doubles over, laughing. She puts a hand up, barely able to breathe. The younger woman sits on the floor, shaking with laughter. "You-you screamed like a-a little girl." She sucks in a breath but falls back into giggles at Samantha's glower. "Oh my, oh my gosh that's hilarious." She wipes tears from her eyes, cackling.

Samantha crosses her arms over her chest, looking down her nose at Ophelia. "I'm not laughing, am I?" Her giggles vanish once that dark tone reaches her ears.

Ophelia stops, covering her mouth. "Sorry." She gets to her knees, about to stand up. Samantha places a hand on Ophelia's shoulder. "Samantha?"

"Since you want to sit on the floor and laugh, you can eat lunch on the floor." Samantha uses a finger to tip her chin so that Ophelia is forced to look up. "Let's go get lunch and when we come back, I want you at my feet." She walks around Ophelia's kneeling form.

Ophelia glances around, shocked. She slowly stands unsure but follows after her friend. True to her word, after they grab their lunches, Samantha takes a seat behind her desk and points her finger at the floor. "Sit."

"Are you serious?" Ophelia holds her tray in both hands to ground herself. "I apologized, this is too much."

Samantha snaps her fingers, pointing again at the floor. "Dead serious. Since you want to lose all decorum and roll around on the filthy floor like a child. I'll treat you like one." Samantha crosses one long leg over the other, raising a brow. "Well, what will it be sweetheart?"

Her shoulders slouch, "Fine." Ophelia takes a seat on the floor at Samantha's feet. She sits with her legs in the pretzel shape so that her tray can safely sit on her lap without falling.

"Good girl." Samantha smooths a hand over her head, voice silky.

Ophelia pointedly stares at her hamburger. Heat burns her face. She slowly grabs her juice, twisting the cap off. They continue eating in silence. Occasionally Samantha will lower her hand and rub Ophelia's head or shoulder, words of praise dripping from her lips. She tells Ophelia how proud she is that she's taking her punishment so well and tells her she's good. Ophelia leans over, head resting on Samantha's knee.

She didn't realize this was a punishment. It was actually a little enjoyable. Ophelia blinks slowly, feeling a bit tired. She could never tell Samantha she enjoyed this, the woman would be freaked out. She shuts her eyes, body drooping.

Samantha's voice drifts through her ears, warm and coaxing. Ophelia whines, tucking her face down. A hand gently shakes her, as a voice chuckles. "Wake up, Ophelia."

Ophelia sighs, opening her eyes. She's still on the floor. Her head is pillowed on Samantha's lap, who lowered her chair so that Ophelia could rest comfortably. "You couldn't let me sleep another 10 minutes?"

"You slept all through lunch and my free period. That's an hour and a half." Samantha's thumb rubs at Ophelia's plump lips. "I have a class coming in 10 minutes, so no, you can't sleep anymore."

"I slept so good." She stretches, popping her back muscles. "I didn't think sleeping on the floor could be like this."

Samantha's fingers graze her neck, dancing along her collarbone. Ophelia stiffens, alert. "What was it like?"

Ophelia takes in Samantha's heated stare, feeling like if she continued to gaze into her eyes, she would get burned. "You'll think I'm weird."

The older woman smiles, hand closing around her neck but not gripping it. Like a loose necklace. "Never, not you sweetheart."

"It was good, really good." Ophelia bites her cheek, fumbling for words to explain the feeling without sounding too odd. "I felt safe, knowing that you were here." She closes her eyes briefly, trying to remember the feeling. "It was weird, I felt content to be on the floor even though I know I shouldn't." Her eyes open again.

"Would you do it again?" Samantha holds her gaze.

Again, this tense atmosphere rises. It surrounds them in a bubble, pressure building. Ophelia knows it's another test, but can't figure out how she knows that. "Yes, maybe if it wasn't this hard floor."

"What about tonight? Would you do it again?" Samantha's fingers stroke the skin of her neck.

"Where?" Her heart races, hammering away inside her ribcage. Ophelia fights to not turn away from Samantha's blue eyes.

A smile lifts the older woman's lips. "My place?" She grazes her nails on Ophelia's throat, watching the younger woman shiver. "You can spend the night if you want, you might be tired after."

"Why would I be tired?" Ophelia questions, blood rushing through her ears loudly.

That smile turns into a smirk. "You'll find out, Ophelia." Samantha removes her hand from her neck, standing. She extends a hand down to Ophelia who takes it. On her feet, Ophelia wobbles unsteadily for a moment.

Samantha walks to the door but stops right before opening it. She grabs Ophelia's forearms, drawing her near. "We'll talk more tonight." She opens the door, leading Ophelia out. "You're always so good for me, Ophelia."

"I am?" She blinks in surprise.

"Yes, sometimes you even surprise me." She juts her chin in the direction down the hall. "Go on now. Before the bell rings and you get swept up in the fray."

________________________

"Erica!" Ophelia walks from one wall to the other inside her bedroom. "What am I supposed to do? She said to come over and basically kneel at her feet." She shakes, hands sweaty with anxiety.

Erica sighs over the line. "Explain to me why you sat on the floor in the first place. You just do whatever she tells you to do?"

Ophelia pauses but then immediately starts walking faster, feeling panicked. "I had to! You didn't see the look in her eyes. It was like she was a different person."

"Listen, I'm going to assume you don't know about kinks because you're a vanilla girl who's only had sex once." Erica cracks her knuckles, ready to unload her factual knowledge on Ophelia.

"It was scary!" Ophelia shouts into the phone, trembling. "Why do dicks look like that? It looked like an alien, I thought I was going to die." She takes a seat on the edge of the bed. "I know about some kinks...I've read those spicy pirate novellas you have in your room."

"Being kidnapped by a pirate isn't a kink, it's a fantasy." Her best friend holds her head, feeling hopeless. "Look, from what you've told me, I think she's a dom, or like a soft dom? I don't know, none of the girls I've been with wanted me on my knees to sit still, my head was always between their legs."

She chokes, standing and returning to her pacing. "Does that mean she wants me to eat her out?" Ophelia imagines it and immediately slaps herself in the face when a naked visage of Samantha spreading her pussy lips forms from her imagination. "I don't think I can do that yet."

"No, I think she seriously wants you to sit at her feet." Erica starts googling, "Mmm, maybe you're a pet to her?"

Ophelia goes to the bathroom, gathering everything she needs to shave her legs and underarms. She shakes, dropping her skirt and panties. Her breath shakily exhales from her mouth as she gazes down at her thick bush. Did she need to trim it down or go bald? "Like a dog? I saw a video once that people wear collars in those situations."

"Maybe? But you said you liked it, right?"

She drops the shaving cream, gripping her phone as she struggles to breathe. "I don't want to be a dog..." Ophelia cries, pulling her panties back up. "No. Nope, I can't do this. I can't! I'll just text Samantha that I'm sick."

"Didn't she come over the last time you claimed to be sick?" Her best friend kicks up her feet, filing her nails. She glances down the hall of the hospital wing she's in, making sure she's still alone.

"She'll see straight through me," Ophelia sits back down on the edge of the tub.

"Ha, there's nothing straight about this." She laughs making Ophelia's shoulders come up to her ears. "What are you going to wear?"

"My sweatpants and a t-shirt? It's what I always wear to her apartment." Ophelia squirts some of the shaving cream into her hands. She rubs them together to create a nice lather. "Hey, should I trim or go bald?"

A laugh echoes from the speaker. "Don't go bald, you might nick yourself with how nervous you are right now." Ophelia agrees, grabs her small trimmer, and plugs it up to be charged.

"If she tries to force you into anything, call Aunt Lea." Her pager buzzes. "Shit, I have to go. Good luck Fia. Discuss things with her first and please for the love of all that is holy, do not sleep with her on the first night."

She pauses the razor as it passes on her upper thigh. "You think Samantha expects sex?"

"Oh lord," She begins to mutter angrily. "No, just that if you think it will go in that direction, put a stop to it. Hold your ground. I love you, you got this."

Ophelia hangs up, dropping the phone to the floor. "I'm so dead. She's going to eat me alive and know that I'm inexperienced with women and then not want to be friends with me." Several scenes form in her mind, all more vivid than the last. "Oh fuck me." She buries her head in her arms, trying to breathe through the wave of anxiety.

Another message sounds chimes from the floor, it interrupts Ophelia's ragged breathing. She grabs the phone, taking a peek. It was from Samantha. Ophelia twitches, reading the message. "Dress comfortably. I made dinner, hope you're hungry!"

"She made dinner?" She doesn't think she can eat, too nervous to even swallow her own saliva down.

Ophelia decides to not respond and continues to shave her legs. She works hard to not accidentally cut herself, running the razor from ankle to knee then knee to upper thigh. She uses a warm washcloth to wipe away the excess. She stands at the toilet, trimmer in hand and panties around her ankles. "You can do this, Samantha isn't going to see you naked. It doesn't hurt to want to feel pretty." 10 minutes later, her bush is significantly trimmed and her legs are shiny with baby oil.

She dresses in black sweatpants and a Vanderbilt sweatshirt, pulling fluffy socks over her feet. Ophelia takes her duffle bag, already packed with her usual essentials, and walks out her front door. She knocks on room 302, trembling in her slippers.

The door opens. Samantha stands in her work clothes still, a small smile gracing her lips when she looks Ophelia up and down. "I was beginning to think you changed your mind about coming."

Ophelia stands outside, unwilling to cross the doorway. "No...I just needed to clean up a bit." She scrunches her nose, hearing her own words. "You know, around the apartment." That was a lie, hopefully, the other will let it go.

Samantha just chuckles, shaking her head. "Alright, well come on in." Ophelia walks inside, leaving her slippers at the door. "You can go put your bag in my room, we can start eating soon."

Bag securely placed in Samantha's bedroom, Ophelia walks back out. She sees the dining room table is set. She gives pause, noticing only one plate is set out on the table. Samantha comes from the kitchen with a bottle of wine and two glasses. She sets them both on the table and then turns to face Ophelia.

"Moscato, right?" She holds the bottle up.

"Huh?" Ophelia is pale-faced.

Samantha's small encouraging smile never wavers. "You said you liked Pink Moscato?"

"Yeah, I like it." She blinks, finally understanding. "Oh! I'll take some if you're offering." The older woman pours them both a glass, although Ophelia's is a finger lower than the others. She bites her tongue not wanting to seem rude.

Samantha takes a seat, gesturing to the chair to her right. "Take a seat, Ophelia." She does so, taking a long sip from her wine glass. Nerves amplified. "Remember earlier today, when you sat at my feet?" She nods, choosing to stay quiet and let the other woman explain the reason she's here tonight. "Do you want to do that again tonight?"

She lowers the glass but keeps it in her white-knuckled grip. "With you?"

"Yes, with me." Samantha points at the empty space beside her legs. "You would sit right here."

Ophelia lets go of the glass in favor of hiding her hands underneath the table so that she can pick at them. "I'm going to eat dinner on the floor?"

Samantha eyes her hands under the table, lips pursed in disapproval. Ophelia stops her movements, slowly taking her hands out of hiding. "I would like to try something different than what we did during lunch," Samantha takes a sip from her glass, leaning back. "How do you feel about me feeding you?"

"Uh, I don't mind." Ophelia sits straight up, paying attention to the way Samantha's eyes trace her face. The older woman hums, but continues to sip from her glass. The silence stretches. "Samantha?"

"Yes, sweetheart?" Her silky smooth voice sends butterflies in Ophelia's stomach. Her blue eyes stare up at Ophelia through her long lashes, entirely focused on the younger woman.

"Is this like a kink or something?" She rushes out the sentence, closing her eyes at the delivery. She could have been smarter with how she worded that.

Samantha giggles, placing her wine glass on the table. "Ophelia, what if I told you that I wanted you to be my girl."

Ophelia's brown eyes go comically wide. "Your girl?" She whispers, timid.

"I know you've noticed, but I like order and being in control. It makes me very happy when I'm allowed to make decisions, help guide, and provide for my girl." Samantha bites her lips, "Kind of like a parent nurturing and being responsible for their child."

Oh. "You want to be my mom?" Ophelia raises her eyebrows, very confused.

Samantha hurriedly shakes her head, "No, not your mom, although if you wanted to call me 'mommy' I wouldn't be opposed." Ophelia gasps. "I'm a dominant and I would like you to be my submissive. Meaning, I want you, Ophelia, to give up control for a few hours a day, and let me take care of you."

They stare at each other. Samantha's pale cheeks begin to turn pink. Ophelia knows her face is still pale as a ghost. "You only want to take care of me?"

"Yes, I've practically been doing so the last month." At Ophelia's open-mouthed gasp, she elaborates. "You know, Ophelia you sleep over a lot, saying you get lonely."

"Because I do!" She argues, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I make breakfast and dinner most days for you." She adds to which Ophelia blows a raspberry. "I've provided emotional and physical support to you. You shy away from physical touch, yet crave affection." Samantha shrugs, uncrossing her legs to lean forward. "I discipline you already, I don't think you've realized it yet."

Ophelia leans away, "How so?"

"Remember when you had an attitude last week and I pulled you aside?" Samantha holds her chin in one hand as she stares at Ophelia with a small smirk.

Oh, yes, Ophelia remembered the encounter. "You said I needed to fix it before you fixed it for me." She says, face going slack in realization.

"Indeed I did, and you fixed your attitude." Her smirk widens a bit. "When you lied about eating lunch and I made you eat in front of me."

"How was that discipline?" She rolls her eyes but receives a swift smack to the thigh for her actions. "Ow! What was that for?"

The redhead stands, looming over Ophelia. She sets her hands on either side of the armrests of the chair. "First, you lied about eating to watch TV. You ate everything, even the cauliflower you hate so much." Ophelia internally gags at the mention of the disgusting vegetable, Samantha had said she would be in trouble if she spits it out. "Secondly, I have told you, do not roll your eyes at me. It's your fault you haven't learned your lesson yet." She grabs Ophelia's chin, "Don't you remember when I spanked you twice for rolling your eyes 2 weeks ago?"

Ophelia is struck dumb. All this time she believed Samantha was an aggressive friend, who valued manners. In reality, the woman is an authoritarian who valued manners and didn't hide it either. She was too naive and uneducated to understand the implications. Ophelia rewinds, going over every encounter the last month she's had with Samantha gripping her upper arm and whispering a veiled warning. "Holy shit you have been doing it."

Samantha smiles, "Yes, and Ophelia, you're good at entering a submissive role." She cups Ophelia's cheek. "You do so unconsciously. What I want is for you to voluntarily give up your free will, let me take care of you." She closes the last few inches between them. "With me, you are free to be your true self, Ophelia."

"How do I know what my true self is?" She questions, lowering her eyes to her lap.

"I'll help you find her, once you do, you'll never want to go back."