Auntie Jeanie – Chapter 1: Secret Submission
I wanted to tell auntie Jeanie. I had to tell someone and she always seemed like the kind of woman who wouldn’t been beaten down by patriarchy and hetero-normative ideas of how relationships were supposed to be like. She was 88 years old now, but still living life with style. You would never see her without red lipstick and a dress. How she was able to still walk around on high heels, will always remain a mystery to me. She was feminine, but she was not hiding herself. She was strong, loud and warm. I needed to tell her because she would not judge me.
It was a hot July afternoon and we were sitting in her backyard, drinking iced tea and watching her dogs play with a ball. She was wearing a pair of sunglasses, her silverhair was long and framed her aged but pretty face beautifully. Her long painted purple nails were tapping against the glass.
“So what did you want to talk to me about, Lisa, dearie?”, she asked me, turning her face towards me.
“Uhm, this is difficult. But you are like the coolest aunt I have and there is something about me that no one in the family knows. But I just need to tell someone.”, I quickly said out loud, almost stuttering.
“Great Aunt, darling. Your cool great aunt. What is giving you a heavy heart?”
“I am lesbian, auntie”.
She stopped tapping the glass, pulled her sunglasses down to the tip of her nose and looked at me. “Oh my, girl. That is quite a thing! Lovely, lovely. How long have you known?”
I swallowed, tears were blurring my vision now. “Ever since I can remember. But I have been with Cass for five years now, and no one in the family know. You know how mum and dad are, and granny, and my brother. They are all so normal, and so stuck up”
She giggled. “Stuck up, yes yes, that is true, darling. And that Cass girl, she makes you happy?”
“Yes, oh, yes! She is such a great woman. She is my Domme, yo ….”, I stopped myself. I had said too much. I felt the urge to just grab my purse and run.
Aunt Jeanie coughed and then smiled. “That sounds very exciting for you, Lisa. I am very happy for you.”
I looked at her, confused. She knew what I was talking about. “I – I don’t understand. You know? What a Do – Domme is?”
“Haha, yes, girl, I very much know what a Domme is! I don’t want to take this moment away from you but I could tell you stories, dearie …” She took a sip from her iced tea.
I was in shock. My cool auntie just got even cooler. “No, no, please tell me. I want to know!”
“Are you sure?”, she asked, taking the sunglasses off and looling at me with a serious facial expression.
“Yes, please, auntie!”
“Brace yourself, Lisa. Auntie Jeanie is now going to explain to you why no one in the family speaks to her and she why never was married or had children,”. She took another sip from the iced tea. She cleared her throat. And she told me a story I would never forget.
“The year was 1954 and I was 23 years old. The post war years were a time of rebuilding what had been lost. Everyone was busy finding their identity. I was still living with my parents, unmarried but a working girl. I was the secretary of the local doctor and I knew everyone in the neighbourhood. My parents wanted to find me a nice man to marry, one to take care of me and to also show me my place. I was a nuisance already back then, darling!” She giggled. I laughed with her.
“I was not bad too look at. I knew the newest fashion and recreated it with the sewing machine during the weekends. I was careful to always look proper. It was not because I wanted to be a proper girl. It was about, what do you kids call it today? Self-respect. Yes. self-respect. But that brought a certain kind of suitor with it. I went to dances, to the movies, I went to church. And there they always were. The slick boys with their entitled attitude. If they were making a move, I was supposed to smile at them and invite more advances. I wasn’t having it though! It irritated my parents immensely. But I didn’t care. The boys didn’t interest me. Boys didn’t interest me!”
“So one Saturday morning I went to the hairdresser’s. I needed to get some volume back into that straw on my head. I couldn’t afford the expensive products, but once a month, I treated myself to a visit to the hairdresser’s. The girl puffing up my hair was new. She had a stylish haircut: blonde and short. She was a little bulky, how do you call it today? BBW? She was a round lovely woman. Voluptuous and boyish at the same time. The palms of my hands were sweaty during the whole session, and every time our eyes met in the mirror, I blushed and quickly looked away. She made me feel all hot and bothered, darling!”. She giggled and blushed a little. I smiled at her.
“About a week later, I was at our local diner and was drinking a milkshake. Yes, that is what we did during those days. I was sitting in a booth all by myself. This group of rockers came in. You know, the kids with the leatherjackets and the big hair? I envied them so very much. I was different, but they were boldly different. And there she was, among them, the beautiful hairdresser! She looked right at me! And she walked over to me. She sat down and said “I am Sophie, and you are very pretty.” I didn’t know what to say back. I just looked at her, like a deer caught in the headlights. She touched my hand and smiled at me. Her touch made me shiver all over my body, Lisa. I didn’t even know what was going on. I needed to be close to her. I never wanted to go a second again without her touching me.”
“The jukebox was playing “A guy is a guy” by Doris Day. I remember it like it was yesterday. She laughed at the song. “But what if we don’t care about guys?”. I looked at her. All I cared about was her. “What is your name, pretty girl?” – “Jeanie”, I stammered. “Want to get out of this place and hang out in my apartment, Jeanie?” I nodded. And off we went, hand in hand. Can you believe it? Hand in hand? In 1954! Half an hour later we were sitting on her couch, kissing. I was kissing a woman! She suddenly stopped and asked me a series of confusing questions that made me blush and dizzy! Was it okay if she took control? Was it okay if she tied me down? Was it okay if she played with me a little? Was it okay if she hurt me a little? Was it okay if she was rough? I was so embarrassed! But my mind was already taken by her. I wanted her to do all those things to me! I wanted to be hers! We even established a safeword. It was Doris.” She laughed out loud.
“We stood up. She gently took off my clothes. I was now in front of her, naked as God had created me. Her fingers went down my body, touching my bossoms, my belly. I was breathing heavily. She took my hand and we walked over to her bed. She told me to lay on my back and so I did. She took out some rope out of her nightstand and tied together my wrists, asking me if I was okay with what was happening at every step of the way. I was okay with it, I was so very much okay with it! She squeezed me everywhere, she pinched every party of me, she pulled my nipples, she worked on my ladyparts. I felt her hands everywhere, the pain everywhere. I felt how much she was in control. But I felt so free! And when she sat on my face, and I was in her, I was embraced by her, I knew that this was the place I belonged and wanted to stay in forever. She worked on my ladyparts while my tongue and mouth were playing with hers. We twitched together, we finished together. And when she had untied me, she kissed my forehead and called me a good girl. I started to cry. Happy tears, darling, I was crying happy tears!”. I stared at my aunt Jeanie with an open mouth.
“We left for the city a week later, moved in together and were inseparable until she died in 1999. Breast cancer. Vile thing. But for over 40 years she was my girlfriend and my Domme. She was the love of my life. And to this day I feel very lost without her.”
She became silent. I looked at her in admiration. She turned on the little radio she had brought outside with us. The oldies station was playing. I walked down the street like a good girl should. He followed me down the street like I knew he would. She grinned and looked at me. I have the coolest aunt.