Haven't Forgotten My Way Home (Camren)

Chapter Seven

To a casual observer, one not involved in their society (and indeed there were a few groups around the country who did not embrace the way they chose to run) Miami could appear just like any other that had existed long before. The city prided itself on being a private society, for the most part, and the more solid, formal routines of a lifestyle were left behind closed doors. As Camila walked along the mall shops with Lauren, only a few things would tell a person of the different ways members of their society interacted with each other. Only a person who knew what they were looking for could see it.

A certain tilt of the head. A chin lifted in the role of Dominance; eyes cast to the floor with the deference of a submissive. A girl following two steps behind, always, carrying the purchases of the day. A young man with a glittering silver collar stopping to ask his Miss if she was tired and needed to sit for a moment. A Dominant holding up a dress to his girl with a merry, evil glint to his eyes. The quiet dance of the question-and-answer, in a language all its own.

"Hold this, pet." "Yes, Master."

"Did I tell you to speak?" "You did not, Ma'am, I'm sorry."

"Don't let me forget to buy milk." "Milk, yes Sir."

It was mundane, really. At home there might be people on their knees or all fours, games, punishment, a driving sexual dynamic... but in public it was all about remembering the milk and the pet food, and where to go for lunch.

Camila stopped in front of a restaurant that was advertising Italian food. "This might be..." She stopped, reading the sign.

No Leash, No Lunch.

... Some places were less subtle than others.

"Moving on," she said, rolling her eyes and slightly behind her, Lauren giggled. Camila giggled herself and moved back to Lauren so that she could push the wheelchair. They'd decided not to risk Lauren walking all day, though Camila had decided that she could at least walk in any of the clothing stores they visited, so that Lauren could get some of her practice in, and try on some of the clothes.

As mundane as their society could be, though, there were still those who felt like they had something to prove. Perhaps they'd just entered into their new relationship, or perhaps there was an underlying sense of inadequacy that sent them over the top. Camila shook her head as a man walked by her and Lauren, a girl crawling behind him with a gag in her mouth.

"Come, slave!" he barked, just as he passed them, and Camila sighed.

"Newbie," she said to Lauren, and gently patted her arm, because Lauren's face was white and nervous as her eyes scanned back and forth between the Dominant and his girl.

Camila had woken up first that morning, and it had taken her a moment to adjust to the unfamiliar surroundings of her guest bedroom, and to remember why she was there. And then she had glanced down, and seen Lauren's fingers wrapped in hers. She'd stared at their interlocked hands for the longest time, before her gaze wandered over Lauren, slowly. She realized that she'd never really taken the time to just look at Lauren. To notice her raven hair, the way the strands shone with the sunlight filtering in through the window. The long eyelashes that fluttered against her cheeks as she slept. Her pink lips were parted in a little smile, and the fingers of her other hand, long and graceful, were still held tightly around the teddy bear in her arm. Lauren's face, her form, was so graceful it reminded Camila of actresses in her favorite black and white movies. She wanted to trail her hands over every inch of Lauren, to memorize every dip and curve and manipulate each part of her until Lauren was a quivering, undone mess beneath her. She wanted to touch her, to taste her, to claim her...

Camila got up to make breakfast instead.

She wasn't in the kitchen for ten minutes before the frantic call had her back in the guest bedroom.