Copyright 2004 by Estaban Bacca. No redistribution or use of this story beyond
this site without my permission. All persons and events in this story are purely
fictional. All of my work is expressly for the entertainment of persons over the
age of 18 years. Any comments are always welcome to estaban (at)yahoo(dot)com

1.

The first time I saw him we were reaching to squeeze the same orange. I hate buying oranges that look so delicious and then taste like damp, bland fiber after you've peeled them. Our eyes met. His were shining out of a dark, rugged face and so damned blue, I could have drowned in them. I realized I was staring and made myself look down.

"Excuse me." he said, "After you."

That's all he said but it sounded like 'Take your clothes off. I want to fuck you'. I felt my neck grow hot as I went from orange to orange until I had a half dozen. I felt his eyes on me the whole while but I didn't dare look up. I put the oranges in the basket and moved down the aisle. I waited until I was past the fruit to look back. He was gone.

I was distracted as I went down the rest of my grocery list. From one aisle to the next I kept hoping to see him. I even scanned all the lines as I waited at the checkout. If that single minute of contact had not been so vivid, he might have been a figment of my imagination.

On the drive home, I let the few words he had spoken drift through my mind. There had been no noticeable accent. The words themselves had been innocent. His sound had been unique. It was a one of a kind voice. Still, how had he filled a polite apology with all that sexy undertone? I shook my head to rid it of his echo and chided myself for acting like a love struck schoolgirl.

Getting out of the car with the groceries, I dropped my keys and almost lost the eggs retrieving them. He was still in my head. It was as if thinking about him was making me clumsy.

The answering machine was loaded. I listened as I put things away in the kitchen.

"Miara, Miara, Miara! Pick up! It's Jenny…..O.K. I guess you aren't there. Give me a buzz and promise you're not going to back out on me Friday night. Trust me, Bill's friend is hot and you need to get out more. Later, Girlfriend."

Beep.

"Miara. Tom Jenkins. There's a teacher's meeting after classes tomorrow. Just more crap from the Dean about student evaluations but I can't get you out of it. See you there,"

Beep.

"Miss Miara Martin? I hope I'm pronouncing that right, anyway this is just a courtesy call from Sun Coast Condos to let you know you've won…"

I shut it off. I wondered why no one had yet released a deadly virus that exclusively targeted tele-marketers.

Classes had been even more discouraging than usual. I hoped a long soak would get rid of the tension in my neck. I went into the bathroom and started a tub. I thought some bubbles might brighten my mood, so I added a big dollop of the peach scented stuff I had put in my own stocking for Christmas.

I put one of my Edith Piaf CDs in and cranked it up loud enough to reach the bath. I kept promising myself that I would learn how to say more than merci beaucoup in French but I hadn't yet. It didn't matter though; I enjoyed her voice, even in ignorant bliss.

While I was undressing, I thought about the double date Jenny had set up for Friday. Her last attempt had been a washout. The guy had been better than average in the looks department and had dressed nicely. I thought when I first saw him that the evening might go somewhere. No spark though and when he finally asked me to dance I couldn't wait for the music to end. He'd put an arm around me and leaned in to say something and Christ… his breath was awful. Poor guy must have had a gum disease or something, Anyway that had been it for me. I would have to decide whether I felt like rolling the dice with this friend of Bill's on Friday.

In the bathroom, I lit a couple of lilac candles and turned out the light. I pulled the pins out of my bun and let my hair down. I lowered my head and shook it out. It almost touched the floor. I tossed it back over my shoulders. Naked, I studied myself in the mirrored tiles behind the vanity. My reflection was softened in the dancing candlelight. The woman in the glass was attractive. Beautiful even. She was I, so why didn't I feel as beautiful as she looked?

I turned off the taps and lowered myself into the bubbles. I had to force myself down into the heat. I always got it too hot but it was the way I liked it. It was actually painful at first but as the pain faded, the pleasure increased. The extreme of one sensation seemed to quantify the other.

I put my head back, closed my eyes and drifted on Edith's voice. I couldn't understand a word of her songs and yet they were so sensual. I knew she was singing of love, and pleasure, and yes, pain too. There was the sound of yearning in it. Yearning for what? The ultimate lover? Sex? Yes, it was definitely sexy.

I opened my eyes as it dawned on me. The sound of his voice, uttering those four words, displaced the soft French lyrics. Now I knew how I had recognized what he had really been saying to me. I was sure I was right. I had not imagined it at all. That handsome son of a bitch had reached out with four disguised words and sexed me up. No wonder I had felt so confused. It was too bizarre to recognize initially. Even being certain, I had mixed feelings. My first impulse was toward anger but I had to admit that I had gotten a vicarious thrill as well.

I closed my eyes again and let his dark features and those sapphire eyes come into focus. It had felt as though his eyes were holding me. Even remembering it, I felt my nipples fill and felt compelled touch them. I pinched them to try and stop my thoughts but it only felt better. I brought my knees up and pressed them together hard. Of its own accord one hand moved down over my belly. Like a small, silent sea creature it slithered its way between the tight press of my thighs. Its fingers coaxed me with their promise of pleasure and my legs surrendered and fell open. My cunt began to throb then. I was helpless against its demands and my other hand left my breast to help answer them. I could hear his damn voice again as I began to frig myself.

"Excuse me." he had said, "After you."

But now I heard,

"Come for me. You know you want to."

I got my feet under me and arched up. I drove two fingers as deep as they would reach, while my other hand strummed my clit frantically. With the water around me, I felt as though I was riding the crest of a giant wave. I came so hard that I yelled into the empty house. I trembled as smaller orgasms shook through me like the aftershocks of a quake.

2.

All I wanted was an apple before I saw her. I had been maneuvering through the usual after work rush hour when the craving came over me. I had some Tom Waites on the stereo and was refusing to let the half-assed drivers get to me.

"Well now fallin' in love's such a breeze,

but it's standin' up that's so hard for me.

I wanna squeeze you but I'm scared to death I'd break your back.

You know your perfume? Well it won't let me be."

The car's motor and gears were more impatient than I was. A Porsche 911 just does not sound patient in slow traffic.

All at once I wanted to take a big bite out of a nice, juicy Macintosh apple. These sudden fits have always been with me and I've always dropped everything and satisfied them. I whipped the Porsche out of the commuter hassle into the lot of the first supermarket I saw.

I broke the law and left it in a handicapped slot up front. I loped in to get my apple. I picked out a big ripe one and dropped it in my jacket pocket and was on my way out when I noticed her. She was picking through some oranges.

She was maybe an eight. Attractive but not super-model material. She was dressed like a librarian. Hardly any make up and had her hair done up all tight and proper. I'm not sure what it was about her that turned me on but it was like with the apple, I wanted her.

I moved up the next aisle until I was across from her. Up close, the attraction was even stronger. I checked for a ring and saw that finger was bare. I willed her to look up but she was intent on feeling up the oranges. So I took hold of the one she had her hand on and she looked up then.

"Excuse me." I said, "After you." and pulled my hand back.

Her look of irritation faded as I caught her with my eyes. I had her gaze locked with mine and for a second I was sure that if I had said ' Follow me.' she would have dropped the fucking orange and done so. She recovered though and broke the look. I stayed there, willing her to look up again. She wouldn't do it. She moved off up the aisle without looking back. I'd lost her. I hate losing.

I made an instant decision and left. I pulled the Porsche to the corner of the lot and waited for her to come out. It took awhile but I had the apple to amuse me and I ate it slowly. It was the nicest apple I think I've ever had.

She got into a dark blue Volvo wagon and I was one car back when we left the lot. It was easy to stay with her. I wondered if she had a lot on her mind or was just another half assed driver. She led me out to a typical middle priced burb. In fact, everything about her was so typical that couldn't figure out why I was bothering to follow her. She started moving along quiet neighborhood streets, so I dropped further back.

I was ready and when she pulled into her driveway, I eased to the curb. The only difference between her little ranch and the rest of them was the color of the paint.

She dropped something on her way to the door and almost lost her groceries.

Once she was inside, I rolled up and parked across the street. I studied the house. After awhile I could almost visualize the layout inside. There are only so many floor plans a ranch can have and the window placement can tell you a lot.

I saw her shape moving about for a while in what had to be the kitchen. Probably putting away the stuff she'd bought, I thought. Then she must have moved to the back of the house. I waited but saw no more movement. Probably in the bedroom. Maybe she was running a bath.

I had no trouble picturing her naked. As briefly as I had seen her, I knew exactly what her body would look like. She'd had a high, round ass and long thighs under that plain Jane skirt and nice calves showing too. She was one of those long waisted women. Her breasts would be widely spaced, with dark, dollar-sized areoles. She had carried her head well and below that elegant neck, I knew that her collarbones would be prominent.

I wondered if she let that long, blond hair down when she bathed. Of course she did. It made sense, all wrapped tight at work and loose as a goose at home. Seeing her in my mind's eye had gotten me hard. I had half an urge to come but I'd never been much of a wanker.

No, I'd wait for it. Wait for it until she begged me to take it. Some things just took a little longer to resolve than an urge for an apple.

.3

This morning's classes were less frustrating. Perhaps the students were beginning to get it. My desire was to bring the past alive for them. I passionately believed in the theory of cycles. History has never been the dry record of dusty, irrelevant events. It has always been the key to the future. Not understanding and heeding its lessons is what led to us into the futile quagmire of Viet Nam and now had us embroiled in the no win mess that Iraq was becoming. Our involvement in both of these places would have been considered ill advised by any astute student of history. Unfortunately, the value our policy makers placed on historical precedent was on a par with that of my freshman students.

Jenny caught me at lunch in the cafeteria. As the women's track coach, her only frustrations centered on her stopwatch. She was a small, wiry bundle of chocolate energy, who would probably have made an Olympic team if her stride had been longer. I knew what would be on her mind. She was determined to get me hooked up. I supposed I should be glad that she cared. When I had begun teaching at State, it had surprised me when the first one to befriend me had been a black woman. Since then she had become my closest friend.

"So you are still down with me on Friday night, right?"

"How's this guy's breath?" I breathed at her, elaborately.

"Don't start, girlfriend! His name is John, I met him the other day with Bill and he is FINE. A year from now the two of you gonna be up all night long with a yellin' tow headed brat and you'll have me to thank." She laughed.

"I'll be there but don't you dare even hint to him that he's going to score."

"I promise but I know you gonna want some this man's rock in yo' roll!" she leered, "He got my panties wet when I saw him and you know I hardly ever eat white bread."

"You lie like a rug, Jenny. You'd date a schizophrenic albino if he had big muscles."

Where can I find one?" she joked, "O.K. I got to motor. See you Friday night and PLEASE don't show up dressed like Miss Grundy."

I watched her trade laughs from table to table on her way out of the room. She was one of those naturally social creatures. I had been planning to cancel on her but after the other evening I changed my mind. If a chance meeting of minutes with a stranger in the produce section had me masturbating, it was obvious that I needed to get laid. Maybe I did want a relationship.

My lecture that afternoon had examined the New Deal era and its profound effect on the average man's expectations. There had been rabid opposition to such revolutionary concepts as Social Security and unemployment insurance. Unbridled greed had placed the U.S. on the verge of economic collapse and the possibility of revolution had been real. Only the establishment's terror at this prospect had allowed an astute F.D.R. to gather the power necessary to force these reforms down the throats of big business. They had hated the idea that a man or woman might be allowed to rest and enjoy a small part of their time on earth after a lifetime of toil. They would much prefer that everyone beneath them die in a harness yoked to their wagons. The fact that unemployment insurance might allow a person the time to find work they enjoyed rather than be forced do as their betters bid also irked them. Not only had they opposed these advances in the human condition, but their sons and grandsons have taken up the task and work behind the scenes to reverse this progress.

The lecture had been well received and I hoped I had them thinking. Then we sat through an hour and a half meeting that was, as Tom Jenkins had predicted, an exhortation to be tactful with our evaluations to the parents. They wrote the checks and the Dean did not want us pissing them off.

It had been a long day and by the time I left the campus I felt like plopping down somewhere for a stiff drink. There was a small pub called 'The Pig and Whistle' on my route. I had never stopped there but I decided I would give it a try.

There were people aplenty inside. Probably most of them were allowing the traffic to thin. I sat at end of the bar, facing the room so I could people-watch. I saw Pimm's No. 1 behind the bar and ordered a Pimm's Cup. It was good but not exactly as I remembered it from my one trip to London in my student days. I surveyed the interior and saw that, in fact, it was another one of these pseudo English pubs that have sprung up over the past decade. Somebody must have made a fortune peddling all those obsolete red phone booths to these people. I figured there must be a factory somewhere turning out 'Piccadilly Circus' signs.

I was debating whether to order another or leave, when he came through the door. What were the chances of this happening? The same guy, the very next day. Well, the supermarket wasn't that far from this pub. Maybe this was his neighborhood. All these thoughts tumbled through my head as I watched him.

He had glanced around; the way people do when they enter a room. Nobody had greeted him. At the bar, he got a draft beer, which he carried over by the dartboards. Alone, with his back to me, he began pitching darts.

I am no expert on fashion, as my friend Jenny has often told me, but I doubted that what he was wearing had come off a rack at the mall. He looked…well, tailored; I guess is what came to mind. His black slip ons had that dull, expensive looking luster. I couldn't study his features but he moved easily when he went to retrieve the darts, which he flew accurately with an almost lazy motion. I suddenly felt stupid, sitting there, analyzing his dress, his form, my god, even his shoes.

What the hell was wrong with me? He had probably never even given me a second thought after I had ignored his tricky little come on. There would be no shortage of hungry fish in the sea for a man with his looks.

I made up my mind that I had to either put him out of my mind and be on my way or just walk over and introduce myself.

.4

I was on her street, bright and early, when she left for work. It was not much of a surprise when we arrived at the university. Maybe she really was a librarian, I mused. She was too old to be a graduate student. I cruised past her parked car. A teacher! How had I missed that faculty sticker earlier?

I waited for a space within eyesight of her car and finally got it. I found the admissions office and a cute, little work-study chick gave me a big smile along with the university catalogue.

I found a shaded bench outside and sat down to find out just who this woman I had decided to seduce was. There she was all right. In the faculty section. The picture did her no justice at all. Strange, I thought, had I not been drawn to her in person and that photo had been on the front page of the paper, I would have never bothered to read the article. I read about her now though:

Martin, Miara. Born in Haverhill, Mass.

Graduated, Freetown High School

B.A., history, Barton College.

M.A., Political Science, Northeast University.

Dept: History. Course: Modern History.

The rest was a course description and schedule. No real information beyond her name, and birthplace and the fact that her last Wednesday class let out at 3:30. I had not expected much more. Nowadays, people had to be careful about what they let be known about them. There were all manner of crazies loose in world. I was confident that her school history might give me a clue or two though. I tossed the brochure in a litter basket and walked back to my car.

Traffic was light and I was back at my apartment in the city before noon. I parked in the basement garage and took the elevator up. I always enjoyed pressing the button for the top floor. There were only six apartments up there. Each one had its own roof garden and terrace. At night the city below was a carpet of Christmas lights. It cost a bloody fortune but what the hell I had money and the only thing I planned on leaving behind was a pot full of ashes.

I sat down at the computer and went to work. My best guess put her at around 28. She would have been a senior in '94. I key worded her high school with that year on six different search engines and finally found a David Martin who had graduated from there in '94. I figured she couldn't have been the only Martin in her school.

I got the number of the school library and identified myself to the librarian as David Martin. I told her the sad story of the fire that had destroyed my home and had burned up my prized high school yearbooks. I asked if I could impose on her to scan the pages from my senior year and zip them to me. She was so sorry for my bad luck and would be glad to help. I smiled at the phone as I hung up. It was, I thought, a 3 to 1 shot. I might have missed her age by a year either way but at the track those are the odds on a favorite.

I made a little lunch of smoked salmon and garlic bread and waited for the little voice to tell me I had mail.

An hour later I was feeling pretty smug. There she was, right next door to David Martin's acne peppered mug. A young and very serious Miara Martin, looking out into the future through a pair of glasses. She must have gotten contacts or had lasik. The rest was standard stuff. National Honor Society, debating team, the drama club, the literary magazine, Future Teachers of America. The only unusual bit was that there was nothing listed for sports. This woman was all about her head.

Knowing I had the year right made her college info a snap to get. The glasses were gone in this photo and there was the bare hint of a smile.

"You must have finally gotten laid." I said, smiling at her photo.

Otherwise it was all academic mentions, Dean's list, graduated summa cum laude and a PBK key. Still no mention of sports. I doubted she'd had much social life. Nope, my sweet Miara had not been in with the 'in' crowd.

I was waiting for her at 3:30. I was still waiting almost two hours later. She must have left with someone, I thought. A boyfriend! Why had I blocked out that obvious hurdle?

I had already started the car when she came swinging along and climbed into the Volvo. She was alone.

We were headed right back to her home and I was starting to wonder if today's routine was her whole life. I was thrilled when she stopped off at a little roadhouse called 'The Pig and Whistle'.

I gave her some time before I followed her inside. The place was crowded but I spotted her at the end of the bar. I got a beer and found some open space in front of a dartboard. Even though I had not let my eyes linger, I got the feeling she had recognized me but I couldn't be sure.

I kept my back to her and stalled by tossing the darts. It was time to make contact but I wanted it to seem a random meeting. I was going through the options when she saved me the trouble by tapping me on the shoulder. I turned and gave her my best smile.

"Excuse me," she said, "you probably don't remember… but we almost met yesterday."

"I remember." I assured her, "You're the lady who was searching for a perfect orange."

5.

"Yes, that was I." I said, needlessly, " Orange's are always fooling me. I like to have one with breakfast instead of juice. But if you get a dry one it's so disappointing and it really is hard to tell by just looking at them. They are kind of like books that way. You can't judge them by their cover."

I realized I was babbling and shut up. The beautiful smile turned sardonic.

"Yes. I know exactly how you feel." he said, "Being fooled by a piece of fruit will ruin anyone's day."

He turned back to the dartboard and after a pause, flew one into the bull's eye. I stood there feeling really silly now. I supposed that having sounded like an anal-retentive fool that I had been dismissed.

"Well, I was leaving when I thought I recognized you. Just wanted to say hello." I said, clumsily trying to extricate myself.

"Maybe I'll see you around." I finished lamely, backing away. Feeling like an idiot, I turned to leave.

"Sit down." he said it softly but it sounded like a command.

His back was still to me and he was aiming another dart. This stuck me as being rather rude but I sat down anyway. I guess I was just happy to think he hadn't dismissed me as a complete fool. Another bull's eye. Maybe darts were serious business with him. Then he left the darts in the board and sat down across from me.

The beautiful smile was back, and if anything he'd turned it up a few watts.

"You are pretty good with those." I said, indicating the board.

He shrugged the compliment away and continued smiling at me in silence. It was like he was forcing me to carry the conversation. I was tired of making one inane observation after the other. I gave up and just looked back at him.

"Alan Cameron." he said, at last.

"Miara Martin." I replied, extending my hand.

Instead of shaking hands, he encircled my wrist and held it. He beckoned for my other hand as well and when I gave it, he held that wrist also. He was looking down at our hands. I wondered if this was where he would pretend to read my palms or something.

"So," he said, quietly, "Tell me about yourself."

"Like what? There's not much to tell. I teach history at the university. Want an encapsulated version of today's lecture?"

"No. Start back when you were a little girl in Massachusetts."

It startled me and I would have drawn back but my wrists were still imprisoned. It was odd because he was exerting no pressure and yet I felt as if I was wearing manacles.

"How do you know that?" I asked.

"Your accent." he said easily.

No one else had ever told me I had an accent. I certainly didn't use a broad 'a' or anything.

"There's not much to tell there either. A typical childhood in your typical small town." I said, lightly.

"Oh, I don't think you are at all typical, Miara."

His voice had that sexy undertone again and I felt myself blushing at this simple compliment. Having my wrists held all this time was making me feel uncomfortable too but for some reason I made no effort to free myself.

"What about you, Alan? Tell me something."

"How old were you when you had your first kiss?" he asked, ignoring my question.

"I was ten, I think. After my first school dance." I answered, impatiently, "Really, Alan, it's my turn. I'm curious about you now."

"I'm an Aries. Now it's my turn again. How old were you when you gave up your virginity?"

This was too much for me and I jerked my hands back. I pulled back too hard, for though it felt like he was pressing my wrists tightly, he had been barely holding me. It made me feel as though I had over reacted.

"Do you always ask women you've just met personal questions?"

"Never mind. I already know the answer. It happened during your senior year at college. Probably with some guy you were sure was serious as you were."

The man made me feel as if I was an open book that he could leaf through at will. He was right, damn it. I had been sure that Michael would propose. We had gone together for two years. I stopped there...I never thought about Michael anymore and didn't want to now.

"This is boring me, Alan. I'm not into mind games. I guess I'm going to take off. Nice meeting you."

Stupid me stuck my hand out again and he played the same trick with my wrist.

"You are so wrong about yourself, Miara. You are totally into mind games. In fact, I'll bet physical activity bores you to death. You probably never played any sports growing up either. If your mind didn't burn up all of your calories you'd probably get fat."

"It's to bad that a good looking guy like yourself hasn't learned that arrogance is not very attractive."

I had hoped to put him in his place. It didn't work, he continued, as if I had said nothing.

"You do like sex though," he said, "and you'd like to talk about it but you don't know how. When was the last time you got laid, Miara?"

This time I carefully disengaged my hand. I picked up my bag and made it obvious that I was leaving. He smiled disarmingly but made no move to keep me. I was relieved and disappointed at once. My feelings were confused, to say the least. I didn't like being so attracted to a man who seemed to delight in discomfiting me. The hell with it, I thought. I was turning away when he spoke again,

"Let's go out Friday night. I'll promise to be charming and completely humble."

"That would be worth experiencing but I have a date."

"Break it. You'll have more fun with me."

"I can't… but thanks anyway. Maybe we will run into each other again."

"Eight o'clock Friday night. I'll meet you here." he said.

I started to tell him he'd be wasting his time but just shook my head. I glanced back at the door and found his dazzling smile still on me.

I drove home wondering if I should take the chance and meet him Friday. I couldn't do it if I wanted to. Jenny would throw a fit.

6.

At half past seven the pub was not busy yet and I had no trouble taking the same table. I have to admit that it was a toss up as to whether Miara would show. I had felt her attraction to me but I might have made her too uncomfortable. There was also the date she had mentioned. Was there really a boyfriend or had it been an excuse she'd made up? She had smelled lonely to me.

Either way, thirty minutes would tell. If she was coming, she would be punctual. Teacher's lives revolved with the hands of their watches.

Since our meeting, I had arranged for tonight's dinner and I had been shopping. I had found an exquisite Florentine choker in 14 carat gold. I had taken it to a goldsmith had him replace the clasp with a combination tumbler and splice in a small clip ring. I commissioned him to make me a matching leash in gold as well. He had said a week was absolutely the soonest it might be done. That had sounded just about right to me.

I was on my second Manhattan when she walked in. Right on time too. I stood up and held her chair.

"You look stunning." I said, sincerely.

I was sincere. Her long blond hair was down now. It shimmered on her bare shoulders. She had chosen a black sheath of elegant simplicity. She wore no jewelry and her make up was light and perfectly applied. As she sat I got a hint of her perfume.

"What made you think I would show up after all?" she asked.

"After you ran out on me, I prayed, and just in case God was busy, I also made a deal with the devil."

"I have been thinking you are the devil." she laughed.

"Is that 'Sicily' you're wearing?"

"Now how would you know that? My Aunt sent it to me. I've looked for it and it is not very common."

"Before I retired, I owned an import/export business. Perfumes were among our items."

"You are young to be retired. I'm impressed."

"Life's a short go. Stopping to enjoy it was an easy choice. Would you like a drink or shall we go? I have great dinner reservations"

"I can pass the drink. Let's go."

There was no fuss about leaving her car there. I figured it would be safe enough over the weekend. I'd agreed to bring her back to it but I hadn't said when. She didn't 'ooh and ah' over my ride and that impressed me. She did ask where we were going.

"Let it be a surprise. I think you'll like it."

I parked in the garage and led her to the elevator. As we rode up, her curiosity was killing her but she remained silent. When the door opened to the foyer it was obvious that I had brought her to my apartment.

"I had no idea there was a restaurant up here." she said.

"It's new. Tonight is the grand opening."

I led her through the living room and out onto the terrace. The caterer had gotten everything right for once. The table was set on linen for two with globed candles. The uniformed waiter was holding her chair. The trio I had engaged was set up and playing as we walked out.

She went and leaned on the balustrade and let her eyes wander out over the lights. She stood there in silence for a long moment. I moved up behind her and rested my hands on those soft, bare shoulders.

"This joint seems kind of dead. We can find a livelier one if you like." I whispered in her ear.

"Alan, it's wonderful. You must be crazy! Why would you do all this? I almost talked myself out of meeting you."

"I told you, I made a deal with the devil. Come on, sit down. I've heard they serve a mean lobster thermador here."

The dinner was perfect all the way to the peches flambé . I was witty and charming and didn't bully her once. In return she told me all about her childhood, her favorite music, her pet peeves and never once touched on history. As we sat with a pair of orange liqueurs, the trio was playing 'Misty' and I asked her to dance.

She moved a little uncertainly at first but once she gave herself over to my lead it was smooth. I called for another bottle of wine and dismissed the help. While she sipped her glass and enjoyed the view, they picked up quietly and slipped out. Remembering her mentioning Edith Piaf over dinner, I put on 'La Vie En Rose' and we danced again. She was melting in my arms. Timing is everything with a woman.

"You'll stay." I said.

"Yes."

In the bedroom she let me undress her. I did it slowly, letting her know I was enjoying it. She stepped out of her pumps and held her hair up for me. I ran the zipper down her back and helped her step out of the sheath.

I walked her over in front of the full-length mirror and held her gaze through the glass as I unclasped her black lace bra and let it fall away. I her breasts were exactly as I had pictured them. I weighed their fullness as I massaged her nipples to erection. Still holding her eyes, I put my lips to her neck and inhaled her perfume. Her eyes closed then and she put her head back against me. I hooked my thumbs in her panties and kissed my way down her back as I sank to my knees and drew them off. I gave her bottom a tender bite and turned her to me. Her stance widened and she thrust her cunt forward. I buried my face in her and breathed in the smell of her desire. I ran my tongue inside her and she flooded it with nectar.

"The bed." she whispered, " I want your cock inside me."

7.

I couldn't believe I had just asked him for it. I've never felt like this before. When his mouth left my pussy it almost hurt but I was glad too, because I wanted his cock pounding into me. When he stood up, I moved toward the bed but he stopped me. I was impatient. Didn't he know what he'd done to me?

"Wait." he said and turned me back to the mirror.

From his pocket he took a gold necklace. He reached around me and held it up. It was beautiful.

"I want you to wear this. Will you accept it."

"It's too expensive." I protested.

"Will you wear it?"

"Yes." I agreed.

Anything to get him to take me to bed. I held my hair and he fastened it around my neck. I saw that a small ring hung from it like a pendant.

"It's gorgeous, Alan, but it looks kind of like a collar."

"That's because it is."

"Oh." I said, blankly.

"Do you want to fuck now, Miara?"

"Yes."

I was unable to keep my urgency out of the word. At last, I thought …but then he was holding a black scarf in front of me.

"I want to blindfold you, Miara. It will heighten your sensations."

My sensations were driving me wild already. I was uncertain about this idea but I trusted him. When I nodded, he bound it tightly around my head and every thing went completely black. Then I was pulled forward, not by the hand but by the choker he had given me. It felt strange and a bit scary.

I felt myself being turned and then the edge of the bed pressed the back of my legs. I let him lower me onto my back. I spread my legs to invite him. My pussy felt empty and anxious and I needed him to fill me. I felt something soft being fastened around my right wrist and then my arm was pulled above my head and I couldn't pull it back. I realized then that I was being tied to the bed.

"Alan? I want you. Why are you doing this?" I asked nervously.

"I know you want me, Miara. Just be patient and trust me."

I remained quiet as my other hand and both my ankles were secured. I had opened my legs for him but being tied like this made me feel not just open…but exposed and helpless. Strangely enough it also made me feel beautiful and desirable. I had already been excited but now I could feel my pussy actually leaking.

I could hear Alan undressing and my anticipation was beginning to drive me crazy. I was ready to beg him to fuck me if it would hurry him to me.

I finally felt the bed take his weight and then his lips closed on my mine. I forced them open with my tongue and moaned into his mouth. He kissed me back hard and I felt the breath being sucked from my lungs. By the time he lifted his head I was gasping. Next, I felt him at my nipples. He was biting one but the pressure increased so gradually that I loved it. I was at the point where I couldn't stand any more though. I started begging.

"Please! Please, Alan, please fuck me, Alan. Please just fuck me, Alan."

Thank God, I felt the tip of his cock in me at last. The bastard was still teasing me with it though. Shallow, short, slow strokes along the roof of my vagina.

"Hard! Please, Alan, hard." I moaned.

He pushed it all the way in for me …but slow…and then back out. He was alternately giving me friction along the top of my pussy and nudging up against my clit. If only my hands were free! I could grab his ass and pull him into me. My hips were churning up at him and I began milking his cock with the muscles in my cunt. I would make the bastard fuck me hard in spite of himself. For some ludicrous reason I felt like saying, 'Look, Ma, no hands'. Anything might have gone through my head at this point. Finally it began to work and I had him thrusting faster and ramming my pubic bone. He grabbed my breasts and I could hear him grunting with effort. I felt myself begin to tighten and squeeze the hot spot in me that was demanding to get out. When it finally burst loose I could only hope he was with me because I was oblivious to everything. The heat spread through me and I came so hard I thought I was pissing. My poor toes clenched till I feared they might crack.

The blindfold made it easy to float off into blackness but I think I would have anyway because I was certain that orgasm had rolled my eyes up into my head.

(To be continued.)

8.

When I untied the scarf from her head, her eyes stayed closed and for an instant I thought she might have fainted. Then I saw a smile curl over her lips. She sighed and her eyelids fluttered open. The violet eyes had a slightly drugged cast to them, as if they were reluctant to return to the confined perception of sharp focus.

"Kiss me again." She said.

I did and then lay with my head pillowed on her breast, listening to her heart.

"That was fabulous." She said in a very quiet voice.

"Yes." I agreed.

After sometime, I removed the scarves from her wrists and ankles. She had not asked me to, or made any sign that she was uncomfortable.

"I don't smoke but I want a cigarette." She giggled, as if the sudden craving were the naughtiest thing in the world.

I got up and found a pack. We shared one in silence and then I turned out the lamp.

~

In the morning, I was up first. While I waited for the coffee to perk, I thought about last night's sex. It had been good for me but she had gone nuts. Either she had been sexually frustrated for a long time or the novelty of being tied down had touched a secret spring in her. I laid out a continental breakfast and then woke her and asked if she'd meet me on the terrace.

"Mmm..kay. Let me wash my face and I'll be out."

She walked out wearing my robe and sat down across from me. Her face was rosy from being scrubbed and her hair was back up.

"Take off my robe." I told her. " I want to look at your breasts while I enjoy my breakfast."

"But you're dressed. I'd feel silly."

"Last night I had my tongue between your legs and this morning you want to act shy? Stop playing the dumb cunt and take off the robe!"

She flushed and I could see she hadn't cared for being referred to as a DC. After a pause she unbelted the robe though and let it slide from her shoulders. She did look uncomfortable about being the only one naked.

"Thank you." I said, "looking at your nipples is already making my mouth water. Here try this marmalade."

I spread some on a croissant and fed her a bite. I insisted on feeding her bite by bite. I made a game of it and soon her self-consciousness faded.

"I think I will make it a rule that whenever you pass through my door you must immediately take off your clothes. You shall always be naked when you are here."

"Oh, Alan, you can't be serious."

"But I am. Completely serious. Promise me you will obey the rule?"

"Alan, I…."

" Just promise me you'll do as I say." I interrupted.

"I guess there's no harm in it. After all, as you said, it's not as if I have any secrets left."

"Thank you, Miara. Oh, and one other thing. I don't want you wearing your hair up anymore. Take it down now."

It was apparent as she slowly unpinned her hair and let it cascade over her naked shoulders that she was having a hard time adjusting to being ordered around. She had been living alone long enough to be accustomed to doing as she pleased. Having rules laid down for her as for a child was something outside her frame of reference.

After I finished feeding her, we showered together. I washed her and dried her, slapping her hands away whenever she attempted to do anything for herself.

I told her we were going out for the day. She wanted to go home and change as she had nothing but her evening dress with her. I made her wear a pair of my shorts, cinched up with a necktie and one of my shirts. Then, of course, she said her high-heeled pumps looked odd. I agreed but made her wear them anyway.

"Where are we going?" she wanted to know.

"Shopping to begin with."

"For what." she asked.

"Anything that strikes our fancy." I answered.

I drove us to the Galleria, a pricey mall near my apartment. I took her into Neiman's and picked out a complete wardrobe for her. I wanted her to have any clothes she might need at my place. I planned on making her spend almost all of her time there. I didn't want her retreating to the security of her own familiar little nest.

It took awhile but when we were done I had ordered everything from bikinis to eveningwear delivered. She walked out with me wearing a short skirted leather ensemble in black leather and sheer white blouse with puffed cuffs and a plunging neckline. For her feet I had chosen high-heeled open toed black, patent sandals with ankle straps.

"My god, Alan, you spent a fortune in there. I make a good living and can buy my own clothes. It makes me feel funny accepting all this from you. This is too much too soon. We've only known each other such a short time."

"A lot happened last night though. Don't you agree, Miara?"

"Yes but…"

"Shh. No buts. Come on, we've more shopping to do."

"More? I don't want to shop anymore, Alan."

I ignored her and led her into a lingerie boutique. I wanted her wearing sheer black hose with what she had on. I've always liked the look of them on a woman.

9.

I was still shocked over Alan's casual way with money. Between the gold collar he insisted I wear and all those clothes, he had spent more than I made in three months, maybe more. He just took over. Telling me what he did and didn't like on me. He has wonderful taste and the clothes were gorgeous but it was unsettling having no say about anything. I was also uneasy about feeling so indebted to him.

Now, in spite of my protests he ushered me into this place that apparently specialized in intimate apparel.

"Alan, I have plenty of underwear."

"We're not here for underwear. I don't want you to wear bras and panties any longer. In fact, go into the fitting room and take them off. I'll bring you some hose I want you to model for me and you can give me your bra and panties then."

He left me standing there and went over to talk with the woman behind the counter. I'd had it on the tip of my tongue to refuse but he gave me no chance. He glanced back and saw me hesitating. He made a little shooing gesture toward the changing room. Damn, I felt like saying no, at least once, but I didn't want to make a big deal out of nothing.

I went into the fitting room; it was large and mirrored on three walls, with plush carpeting and an antique loveseat. If the changing room is this swanky, I thought, their prices must be ridiculous. I lowered my panties and stepped out of them. I was going to insist he let me by lunch, before he put himself in the poorhouse splurging on me.

I slipped off my jacket and blouse and shrugged out of my bra. When I put the blouse back on, I noticed in the mirrors that my nipples were very obvious through its sheer fabric. I would have to keep my jacket on. I was reaching for it when the door opened and Alan walked in followed by the saleswoman.

My bra and panties were on the loveseat where I had placed them. Alan picked them up and sat down. He held my held the crotch of my panties under his nose for a moment and smiled. He handed both articles to the startled saleswoman who hesitantly accepted them with the tips of her fingers. By now I could feel myself blushing furiously.

"Throw these away, will you please, Miss?"

"Certainly, Sir."

As she left with my underwear, I thought I saw her smirking. I could imagine what was going through her mind. Before I could open my mouth to let him know he'd embarrassed the hell out of me, he handed me a pair of black hose.

"Don't say a word. Put those on for me."

I realized now that this was some sort of erotic game that he was playing. Maybe if I put them on, it would satisfy him. I made up my mind that we would have a talk about all this later though. I sat next to him and slid the stockings on. They felt strange, as I had never worn anything other than panty hose.

"Stand over there so I can see properly."

I did as he asked. Seeing them in the mirror, I had to admit that they looked and felt very sexy. At that moment the saleswoman returned and Alan asked her opinion.

"Yes. She has the legs for them but the seams are not quite straight."

"I see that." He said, "Fix them for her, will you?"

It felt very odd, being discussed by the two of them, as if I was a mannequin. The saleswoman moved around and knelt behind me. I felt her hands travel from my ankle, up my calf and then my thigh, gently adjusting the seam. I have never had an erotic thought about another female in my life but the sensation of her hands on my leg made my pussy twitch. When her hands made their way up my other leg, I knew the contact was making me wet and I could feel my face getting hot again. At last she stood and walked over to Alan.

"Yes." He said, "That is much better. She's going to need a suspender belt. Will you pick out something nice for her, Miss."

"Certainly."

She left again and this time she was definitely smirking.

"Alan, get rid of her, please. This is too embarrassing."

"Nonsense. It's her job. You don't get embarrassed in a women's locker room do you?"

She was back. Ignoring me, she held up a black, lacy garter belt for Alan's approval.

"That is perfect." He said, "Put it on for her, won't you?"

The woman came and knelt down in front of me and looked up. Her eyes told me that she had now caught on to Alan's little game and was enjoying my discomfit. She just knelt there smiling, as if waiting for something.

"Help her out. Miara." Alan said, "Lift your skirt for her."

With both of them looking at me expectantly, I felt trapped. I slowly raised my skirt to the tops of my thighs but stopped, remembering that I no longer was wearing any panties.

"Lift it up around your waist, Ma'am. This fastens over your hips." she told me.

I fastened my eyes on a spot above Alan's eyes and gathered the skirt up around my midriff. I knew my naked pussy was now right in front of the woman's face. She leaned forward a bit as she reached behind me to encircle my hips. My senses had come alive and her touch as she smoothed and adjusted the belt was magnified in my mind. She must have known this because she took her time fastening the stocking clips.

"Spread your legs, dear, so I can get these inside ones." She said.

As if in a trance, I did as she directed. The second my thighs parted I was further humiliated. The smell of my arousal seemed to fill the room. If I could smell myself, it had to be completely evident to her, I thought with dismay. As she worked at the last two clips, I could feel her fingers and the backs of her hands on my inner thighs and her exhalations against the hairs on my pussy. Suddenly, I noticed myself in the mirrors. There I was, standing with my hard, dark nipples showing through a damn see through blouse, holding up my skirt, with my bare pussy framed by sexy black stockings. My reflection going from mirror to mirror, multiplied itself. Each whorish image of me growing smaller and smaller until I disappeared into the depths of the glass. I knew then that Alan had done this to me on purpose. I should have hated him for it. I wanted desperately to be angry. Instead, seeing myself as he was seeing me, I let myself admit how turned on I was. Horrified, I felt a trickle of my juice start down the inside of my thigh.

At last she was finished. She started to stand but hesitated when something caught her attention. Then, as if it were the final detail of her task, she reached two fingers between my thighs and wiped the wet trickle she had discovered there. I am sure that if she had touched me again I would have had a screaming orgasm but she stood up. She left the room holding her fingers out in front of her as if she had not quite decided what to do with them.

I let my skirt fall and regained my composure. Alan was holding my jacket for me. As I slipped into it he said he was starved. He said it as though nothing had happened.

10.

I ordered a dozen pair of the hose and as many suspender belts. I tipped the salesgirl generously and she promised a next day delivery.

"I'm glad you're hungry," She declared, " because I'm treating you to lunch.".

"Fair enough. How doe's Paul's sound?"

"I've never heard of it but if you like it, Paul's it is." She said.

I whistled up a cab. I didn't feel like driving the noon crush or hassling for a parking slot.

Paul's was located in a trendy area on the waterfront. It was one of the oldest eating establishments in the city but so expensive that it didn't surprise me when she was unfamiliar with it. When we walked in the Maitre d' recognized me.

"I'm sorry, Charles," I said. " but I have no reservation. Is there any way you can squeeze us in?"

"You know I always save out a few tables for our best customers, Mr. Cameron."

He led us to a window table with a view of the boardwalk along the seafront. The menus were jacketed in leather and required two hands. I already knew what I wanted but I let Miara study hers. She lowered it in exasperation.

"It's French and there are no prices." She whispered.

"Paul is also French and priceless." I whispered back, " My French is passable. Why not let me order?"

She really had no choice. The waiter arrived and introduced himself as Claude. I ordered a 1988 Haut-Brion and a Chateaubriand for two.

"That was more than passable French, Alan. How many languages do you speak?"

"Some Spanish, Arabic and I can ask for the toilet in German." I shrugged. "Very useful in the import-export game."

"Ah yes," she said, "The mysterious import-export game."

"It was not as romantic as it sounds. I was just an itinerant peddler with a passport full of visas." I said this with no false modesty and then changed the subject, " What is your most recurring sexual fantasy, Miara?"

"Alan, is sex all you ever talk about?"

"That is not our problem." I told her. "Our problem is that sex is what you have never talked about. So be a good girl and quit stalling. Tell me your darkest, secret longing."

I knew I could get her to tell me but first she would have to shift aside layers of repression.

She was momentarily saved by the arrival of the sommelier with the wine. I indicated that he should give us his opinion for Miara's benefit. I doubted she had ever observed the ceremony by which a restaurant cutely lets its guests know that it will cost them 500 dollars to consume a 250 dollar bottle in public. After the cork was withdrawn it was given a long moment of inspection under the steward's educated, Gallic beak. Next a small amount of the wine was poured into the small crystal taster's cup attached to a silver chain around his neck. The dark violet liquid was held to the light, its clarity scrutinized by a stern looking eye. The nose demanded another turn and tested the wine's bouquet. The taste buds then called for its contents to be poured over them. The mouth went through various contortions, as the wine was sucked, swirled and even gargled, before finally breaking into a wide smile.

"It is a fine bottle, Monsieur. Harmonious and balanced I would say." He assured us as he poured for Miara and then myself before departing. I raised my glass to her.

"To the fantasy you were about to share with me." I said, smiling at her.

She made no reply but sipped appreciatively. Claude arrived with two bowls of crab bisque.

"Claude. Take the lady's coat please." I directed.

"No I'm fine. It's chilly in here." She protested.

"Nonsense. It's warm. Give him your jacket" I insisted.

Claude continued to stand behind her waiting. Reluctantly, she surrendered it. I smiled as once again the round shadows of her veiled nipples were revealed.

"Claude, what do you think of my friend's new blouse. Do you think it suits her?" I asked.

The waiter paused and appraised Miara's appearance as if such a request was quite common. I watched the rosy flush of embarrassment climb from the deep V between her breasts all the way to her cheeks. She might as well have been naked from the waist. Her awareness of this became even more obvious as her nipples rose, making tiny, twin tents of the flimsy material.

"Mademoiselle looks lovely in it." The waiter said subtly and moved off with her jacket.

"That was uncalled for, Alan. You know this blouse is indecent. I feel like the entire place is staring at me."

"Why did you agree to wear it then." I asked.

"I wanted to look sexy for you. Not for some waiter!" she hissed.

"You are very beautiful. You should learn to enjoy teasing men. Especially me. In fact, I would like for you to tease me a bit now."

"What do you mean?"

"Raise your skirt so that your bare bottom is on the chair and spread your knees for me."

"No. Alan, I am very attracted to you but I'm not going to make a spectacle of myself. " She insisted quietly.

"No? As you please then. Try the bisque, it's excellent here." I said, dismissively.

I let the conversation die. The rest of meal was served and as always everything was delicious. I pretended to ignore her but noticed her picking at the meal, while I ate with silent enthusiasm. It was obvious that she was not enjoying herself. She declined dessert but I ordered a chocolate mousse. I took a spoonful and made a show of giving its rich texture my complete attention. Finally, she broke the silence.

"Alright." She whispered, "I've done it. Are you happy now?"

"Done what?" I inquired innocently.

"You've gotten your way again, I'm sitting here on my bare ass with my legs open!"

I acted as if it was no longer of interest to me and reached across the table with a spoonful of the mousse. She leaned forward and closed her mouth over the spoon. I drew it out and scraped a chocolate shadow from her lips with its edge, as one does when feeding a baby. Spoon by spoon, I silently fed her the rest of the dessert. I used my finger to collect the last of it from the plate and fed that to her as well. She sucked my finger until I pulled it from her. Her lips seemed reluctant to release it.

We were smiling at each other again. I signaled for the tab.

11.

Sitting there sucking on Alan's finger in a public place, I was acutely aware of my pussy on the hard, polished wood of the seat. I felt as though there were two different people inhabiting my body. One, lost in sensation, with her bare ass and breasts almost exposed, while the other sought to remind the crazy one of her of her surroundings. I wasn't sure which of these was the real me. I felt as though Alan had been slowly tearing me in half ever since we met.

The waiter appeared at Alan's elbow with the check but I demanded he hand it to me. I reminded him that it was my turn to treat. Alan smiled agreeably and passed me the leather folder. I took my wallet from my purse and looked at the check. Unbelievable, I thought in shock. It was over 600 dollars. I hoped I kept the dismay from my face. Swallowing, I got out my checkbook.

"I am sorry, Mademoiselle, but we are not allowed to accept a check."

The waiter informed me of this with what I thought was a touch of disdain. His remark attracted the notice of a couple at another table and I felt my cheeks grow hot. I asked Alan to assure him that my check was good but he only smiled and shrugged at me as if there was nothing he could do. The corner I had talked myself into amused the bastard.

"Well, show me where you wash the dishes then, mister!" I said, loud enough for all to hear.

Alan laughed and reached out for the check. He signed it and the waiter bowed and left.

Great, I thought, he wouldn't take my check but an inch of ink from Alan was fine. Alan rose to leave and I almost forgot to rearrange my skirt before I joined him. That would have been the icing on the cake, I said to myself.

Instead of calling a cab, Alan took my hand and led me across to the boardwalk. He sat us down on an empty bench. We watched the ocean roll in to slap at the rocks below and my anger with him over his tricks at lunch faded. I could feel him waiting for me to speak.

No one had ever asked me to voice my innermost thoughts before. I decided he was right about me, that I must be a strange duck. It was harder today, to let him into the private place in my mind, than it had been to let him take control of my body last night.

"When I was very young," I said, at last, "I saw a man forcing a woman to take him in her mouth. I could see that she didn't want to do it but he pulled her head down by the hair and slapped her face until she did as he demanded."

I hesitated for a moment, remembering the scene. I felt Alan's eyes draw back from the surf below and fasten on me.

"It was in a small park near our house. I was about to cut through a hedge, as a shortcut to the swings, when I came upon them. They were on a blanket, in a small clearing surrounded by shrubs. When I saw what was happening, I thought perhaps I should go and tell someone. Instead, I remained hidden and watched them. I had never seen a man's penis until then and even though I was afraid, I could not stop watching. Tears were running down the woman's face and I felt sorry for her but the sight of the man's thing moving in her mouth excited me. It gave me a strange new feeling between my legs. As far as I can remember, that was the first time I ever touched myself down there in that way."

As I had been relating this, Alan had put his arm around me. Now he leaned his lips to my ear.

"Touch yourself that way now." He whispered.

As he said it, I admitted to myself that I recalling the scene so vividly made me want to. It always has. It was what I usually pictured when I masturbated. I moved one hand down between my legs and placed my other over Alan's fly. I felt him stir.

"I remember that the woman seemed to be choking but the man wouldn't release her head. I heard him say 'Swallow it. Bitch.' He finally let go of her and fell back on the blanket. When she was free, I expected her jump up and run away. Instead, she put her head on his shoulder and just stayed there crying.

Ever since then I have had dreams in which a stranger forces me to suck him off. I never see the stranger's face and, of course, I never cry on his shoulder. He just uses me and leaves me lying on the grass. When I have this dream, I always cum while I am being made to suck him. There, Alan, now you know what a slut I must be. I must be sick when the thought of someone abusing me makes me come."

He didn't answer but remained with his arm around me. The fingers in my pussy were now drenched and Alan's cock was hard under my hand. Suddenly, he took my hand from his groin and stood up.

"Come on." He said.

"Where are we going now" I asked, startled at his abrupt change of mood.

He refused to enlighten me. I had to assume that he had become as aroused as I and wanted to get us back to his place. I had to hurry along beside him to keep up with his longer stride. After turns down three or four streets, we arrived at a small park and I knew instantly that he wanted to enact my fantasy.

When he led me into a tiny enclosed clearing it was almost a case of déjà vu. He helped me out of the expensive leather jacket he had paid for and spread it carelessly on the grass. He made me sit on it.

"Alan, I…"

"Shush, Miara. Wait right here until I return. It won't be long, I promise."

With that, he disappeared into the bushes. I sat there hugging my knees and waiting. I was not sure what I was waiting for. I guessed that Alan would reappear and 'assault' me. I felt idiotic now and wished I had never told him a thing.

The minutes stretched out. Sitting there, I again thought about the conflicting urges this man had stirred in me. In such a short time he had taken me so completely out of my own life. I was beginning to wonder if I would be able to find my way back.

I felt my hair grabbed and my face was suddenly forced into the grass. My heart had jumped into my throat. I wanted to tell Alan he was being too rough but my mouth was full of grass. Then my head was jerked up and I was faced with the hard cock I had so often imagined.

"Suck it, bitch."

A sick feeling shot through me. The voice was not Alan's! I tried to jerk back and rise but the hand in my hair was inflexible. I felt my face being slapped and I began to cry.

With a sense of the inevitable, I opened my mouth. I had been here so many times in my dreams that I knew what I must do. I hollowed my cheeks and began to suck. The cock began forcing itself into my throat. I wanted to use my hands to at least prevent it from choking me. My arms refused to answer the call though and hung limply at my sides. While the tears continued to roll down my cheeks, I felt it begin to happen. The hands that had refused to help me, now began to claw at the ache that had sprung to life between my legs. My hips were frantically humping my hand as the faceless man fucked my throat. I heard a groan and my face was pulled hard to him. The cock in my mouth began to throb and there was a hot splash against the back of my palate as he ejaculated. I felt myself squirting onto my hands as if in answer.

I must have blacked out briefly. When I came to, I was still on the ground, with my head in Alan's lap. He was stroking my hair tenderly. Just like the woman I had seen so long ago, I just lay there crying and letting him hold me.

12.

I held Miara while she cried herself out. Finally, she was quiet and still. I couldn't see her expression. There was no way to tell what was going through her mind. Was she angry? Excited? It might be both of these or it might just be disgust and loathing. I wasn't quite sure what I should say.

In the midst of my hesitation, she pushed herself away from me. Without a word, she fumbled around and found her small purse. She stood up and just walked away. I called for her to wait but she never even turned. For a brief moment, I considered going after her but decided against it. If I had been wrong, there was nothing I could say that would fix it.

I sat there wondering exactly why I had done such a crazy thing without thinking it through. It had been another of those wild impulses that I had no control over. When she allowed me into her mind, it was as if the lid of a vast toy box had been thrown open. Well, it was done now. I had probably lost her. In fact there was every chance that the police would be showing up at my door.

I grabbed the soft leather jacket she had left lying on the ground and stood up. As I walked out of the park, I passed a litter basket and tossed the jacket in it.

Back in my apartment, I checked my machine, even though I knew she wouldn't be on it. There was a message from Jason though.

Beep

"Hey, Man, that was wild! I hope I did everything right. I still can't get over the fact of a chick getting off on that trip. You sure hang with some kooky peeps, Alan. Gotta run, gimme a call.

Beep.

Jason's apartment is across the street from the park. He owed me a number of large favours and had been only too glad to play his part in my scenario. I'd assured him that my girlfriend desperately wanted to live out her fantasy and I rehearsed him as to what was required.

From hiding, I had watched his performance. The guy was a quick study. He'd had no idea that none of it was consensual on Miara's part. Any one watching the whole act, as I had, would have wondered. The first half of what occurred had definitely looked like a sexual assault. To a person arriving in the midst of the act, however, it would have appeared that Miara was merely using the man's cock to get herself off as she had frantically masturbated herself.

Spilt milk, I thought to myself. Miara just did not want to accept her dark side as legitimate. She was going to hate me for bringing it to the surface and making her face it.

She probably felt that Miara Martin, the history teacher, would be rejected by her world if it were to learn what she was really like. The Miara Martin who drove her Volvo wagon back and forth between her little box of a home and that same-same degree factory she toiled in. Miara Martin, the idealistic mentor, selflessly sacrificing her life in a vain attempt to excite a single original thought from the mass-produced little bubbleheads that filled her classrooms. That Miara would fight to prevent the needy, sensual, pleasure starved creature lurking inside from displacing her.

If only she had given me some tangible reaction. I might have gotten her past the shock of coming face to face with her desires. She had not left me any handhold at all though. She would probably slam the door on the whole experience… and me. Even if she decided to resolve her feelings, one way or the other, the debate would be between her and that inner voice.

I had half a mind to forget about her and fly to Costa Rica and go fishing. I had lived down there in idle splendor for a year after I sold off my business. I rented a whole family while I was down there. I slept with the three daughters; while mamacita ran the house and papa chauffeured me around in an old Chevy Impala that the sun had burned pink. I lived like a fucking Maharajah down there for a fraction of what I was spending now. They had cried crocodile tears when their gringo left but another of my wacky impulses had shaken me out of my hammock in paradise.

The more I thought about taking off, the more it felt like I'd be quitting. I've always been a sore loser. I'd never lost without being beaten bloody, whether literally or financially. It occurred to me that while I would not be allowed a voice, there were ways in which I could urge her to argue with herself. I went to the phone and dialed from the Rolodex.

"Yes, this is Alan Cameron. I have an account with you…That's right. Listen, I'd like a dozen each of red, white and yellow roses and your largest seasonal arrangement sent to the History Department at the university for a Miss Miara Martin. I want the same order sent to her home at 1283 Maple Street…. Yes, a very special occasion… No cards will be necessary. Yes, you're welcome."

While I was talking to the florist another thought had occurred to me. I called up the little pub where I had met her and asked the bartender to check outside for her car. Sure enough, it was still there. I called my road service and ordered it picked up and delivered to her house.

There, I thought, she was going to have to slam the door very hard and find a big lock if she wanted to keep me out of her head.

13.

I barely remembered getting back yesterday. I knew I got in a cab and then I was home. I remember showering and falling into bed while I was still wet. I must have closed the blinds though. The room was dark, though there were cracks of daylight around the window. I turned my alarm around and the saw 12:23 in glowing digits. Almost 24 hours of my life had disappeared.

I didn't really feel like thinking about what had happened yet. I got out of bed and went in the bathroom. I sat on the toilet, willing my mind to remain blank. I didn't want to even imagine who it was that Alan had turned loose on me. By the time I finished wiping myself, I thought I could taste cum in my mouth. That didn't shock me but catching myself licking my lips did. In the medicine cabinet, I found that my nearly new bottle of mouthwash was empty. I must have drunk it all when I got home, I thought wryly. I rinsed my mouth in the sink and went back to bed.

I awoke out of a dream with the alarm was going off. I had been back in that park. The cock was being forced on me again. Only this time I was also using a huge vibrator in my pussy. It seemed that I had been sucking forever and my jaw ached. Then Alan was there, telling me I had to make it come, so that I could come and then I could rest. At last, it began to spurt… but then it wouldn't stop and no matter how much I swallowed there was always more. Finally I was too tired to swallow and it just overflowed from my mouth. I knew if I could just come it would all be over, so I fucked myself harder and the sound of the vibrator in my pussy kept getting louder. When I came up out of it I had to pull my hands from between my legs.

The alarm was still buzzing and I slapped at it until it stopped. It was past 5 in the morning. I realized I had to get ready. I had tests to give today. God, what was wrong with me? I had slept forever and I was as tired as if I had actually lived that dream. I was probably suffering from traumatic emotional exhaustion. T.E.E., I thought bitterly. I wondered if just getting real TEEd off would help.

That was the problem though…I would be getting mad at myself. Alan's attitude had been straightforward and consistent. I had known all along that he was a risky piece of business. Being with him had been so different and perversely exciting though that I had driven through all the warning signs. What the fuck was I doing anyway, I thought. I had to get dressed. I didn't have any time for self-analysis. Twenty minutes later, I was as together as I was going to get and headed for the door.

"Shit!" I said out loud.

I just remembered I had no wheels. This was all I needed! Now I would be fucking late. I ran for the phonebook and was looking for taxis, when I glanced out the window and saw my car in the drive. Another rabbit from Alan's magical hat! I slammed down the phone. What was he trying to do with this gesture, I wondered? Was it an apology? A taunt? One minute I 'm stranded at home and the next everything is back to normal. It pissed me off that he seemed to be able to create and dissolve my problems at will.

As I drove, my thoughts were a swirl of contradictions. My head was sorting through anger, outrage, guilt and self-loathing, as if searching out the right dress for an occasion. Something I'd read by Lawrence Sanders popped into my head, 'Sex is the thinking woman's valium'. As much as I hated to admit it, I was beginning to doubt my ability to think my way through this. Maybe it was more about excitement, curiosity and desire. It dawned on me that, unlike Alan, I had always repressed my instincts. When I distilled all the contradictions, a fear of my own instincts was all that remained.

The morning seemed to last forever. Fortunately, since it was a test day, the usual inane questions were held at bay by long periods of silence. At lunch, I settled for a cup of coffee. I was still so wrapped up in myself that I didn't notice Jenny next to me until she startled me with a loud laugh.

"Oh, hi. What's so funny?"

"You are, Miss Sly! You were SO in trouble with me for standing us up Friday but now that I know what happened, I forgive you. Okay, spill it. What's he like?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Quit playin', girl. I know you've met someone and judging by all those flowers, someone SWEET!"

"Flowers?"

"You must not have stopped in the teacher's lounge this morning. You got enough flowers in there for a wedding and a funeral! I snooped but there's no card."

"Shit." I said.

"When do I get to meet him?"

"I'm not going to see him again."

"Are you crazy? …. Wait a minute. Did he send all those to say he's sorry for something?"

" Jenny, I don't feel like talking about it right now."

"Okay, okay. Look, I'll call you later and we'll talk then. Don't give up on this guy though. Shit, most men don't even know when they hurt a woman's feelings. Whatever mistake this man made, he seems to have the class to admit it. Hey, I gotta go, I'll call."

The thought of Alan making a 'mistake' was laughable. I was no longer even convinced that our meeting had been accidental. I was beginning to suspect that everything that had happened was part of some Machiavellian campaign. Why he had chosen me though was eluding me.

Driving home, I had an impulse to drive into the city and confront him. I would just tell him that he had gotten the wrong impression of me. That I wasn't really the kind of woman who begged a man to fuck her on the first night. That I should never have allowed him to talk me into parading around in public half dressed. That what he had done had hurt me. There was no need for him to know that, on my knees, in the grass, I'd had the wildest come of my life. Listening to myself though, I realized how utterly ridiculous all that would sound. No, I would stop for Chinese take-out, go home and grade goddamn tests and put Mr. Alan Cameron out of my mind.

The flowers had truly been beautiful. I had told everyone that they were delivered by mistake and handed them out to anyone who wanted them. I felt that accepting them would have meant accepting other things I was just not ready for. Besides which, there had been so damn many of them that I could never have carried them to the car.

I pulled in the drive and there on my doorstep were the same flowers I had given away! I knew then that was no way I was going to avoid seeing Alan again.

14.

It was Monday and I thought I might hear from her after classes. The longer I had considered the matter, the more certain I became that she would call.

Little Miss Goody Two Shoes would be battling it out with the inner slut. In order for either of side of her nature to win, she would have to have a dialogue with me.

She knew I was in the book but I hadn't given her my cell number. I didn't trust her to leave a message on the machine, so here I sat. In effect, I had temporarily turned the tables on myself. Waiting for a call had made me her prisoner and it was irritating me. Any form of waiting has always seemed like a stint in purgatory.

While I might have to wait, I need not be bored to death doing so. I punched one of the speed-dial keys on my phone.

"Tanna? It's Alan…. Are you free this evening? … Yes, as a sub. ...Good. I think it might amuse me if you were wearing something very chic and expensive.. I'll be waiting, ciao."

Tanna was a professional switch and catered to both dominant and submissive clients. She was expensive but talented. Being slavishly waited on might help to relieve the tedium. Thinking of Miara, I loaded the CD player with Edith Piaf and poured my self a tall glass of Famous Grouse.

"Non! Rien de rien.

Non! Je ne regrette rien…

C'est payé, balayé, oublie.

Je me fous du passé."

The throaty voice caressing the soft lyrics had me feeling pretty laid back by the time the door chimes sounded. A glance at the Videoguard showed me that it was Tanna and buzzed her through the lobby.

She walked in wearing a gunmetal gray evening suit with silver accessories, looking as though she might have just come from a studio at Vogue. Tanna was a tall, slender woman and every centimeter of her was elegant. She handed me a sterling evening clutch. After depositing a generous check inside, I hung it with her jacket in the closet.

"You look very tense, Master. What can your pet do to relax you?" she purred.

"A fresh drink would go well for a start." I said.

She made her way over to the bar while I walked out on the terrace. I set down the cordless phone I had been dragging around with me and stretched out on one of the lounges.

Tanna handed me a generous crystal glass of scotch. She folded herself gracefully onto the tiles at the foot of the lounge. With my eyes closed, I felt her unlace my shoes and slip them off. I heard her whisper in a little girl's voice,

"Eeny, meeny, miney, moe."

She chose the left foot and I felt her mouth close over its toes. I cracked an eye and saw that she was using her teeth to slowly tug off my sock. Leaving the sock between her teeth, her hands captured my foot. Using the balls of her thumbs, she began pressing the tension from the center of the arch to the outside edge of the sole. Her strong thumbs worked from the base of the heel up to the pads behind the toes. Again and again, she sought out the tiny tension devils and drove them relentlessly toward the toes. Then using both hands, she was squeezing and pulling the length of my foot with a milking technique. My eyes closed again and I let my entire body sink into a mist of enveloping tranquility.

Over an hour had evaporated when she finally released my other foot. Tanna had once sworn to me that being spanked on her bare bottom was her biggest turn on. Of course such an avowal was to be expected given her avocation. Still, when I had last obliged her, she had apparently had a scream of a cream. She had even gently refused the little extra something that I often pressed on her. I'd had every intention of warming her up for a little sex to pass the time but her ministrations and the scotch had left me soporific.

"Slave Tanna thinks her master should have a tongue bath to stimulate him. I can clean all the hard to reach places. I'd love to lick between your toes and fingers and in and around your ears. I would suck the sweat from your armpits. I would even scour the crack of your ass with my tongue. By the time I'm gently rolling your balls around inside my wet mouth, I think Master will have recovered all of his power.

A man would have to be a cretin not to be tempted by such a lascivious depiction of delights. No wonder they say cleanliness is next to godliness. Such a treatment could make a mere man feel like a god.

"May this slave crawl to your bed and wait for you, Master?"

I managed to keep a straight face and I told her to drag her ass to my bed on her belly and kneel there with her worthless tongue hanging out until I saw fit to avail myself of it.

If she was expensive, she also played a fun game. It was one woman in a million that could look stylish dragging her belly across a carpet. I glanced at my watch. It was pushing ten. Pretty late for a school marm, I thought. If she were going to call it would be soon. Edith, the timeless bitch goddess of love and despair and all things French, was now growling her way through 'emporte-moi'.

"Take me down," I translated, "Carry me to your country. Tear me from the world where I live. Carry me far, far from here."

I was on my way to the bedroom when the lobby rang. I knew instantly that instead of calling she'd come in person. This was better than I could have hoped for. What a stroke of chance having the talented Tanna here. I could use her as a further challenge to Miara's conception of herself.

Yes, there she was on the lobby monitor, biting her lip. I buzzed her in and went to the bedroom. I stuck my head in the door and instructed Tanna to remain there quietly unless she was called. On my way to the front door, I stopped and took two wooden clothes hangers from the hall closet.

15.

I had almost called twice but kept backing away from it. In a fit of pique, I had tried to take off the damn gold choker he had given me. I discovered that he had locked it on me and that it was too close to cut off. No longer hesitating, I'd jumped in the car and slammed out of the drive.

As I rode the elevator up, I was nervous. Even when I was in the right, I hated confrontations.

I arrived at the top floor and found him holding his door open for me. I made to enter but he held an arm out and handed me two clothes hangers. I looked at them stupidly. They were so irrelevant to the issue at hand that I was bewildered.

"What are these for?" I asked in puzzlement.

"For your clothes. Don't you remember promising that you would not wear clothes in my home?"

"Are you crazy? That promise was given in another lifetime. What you did to me in the park destroyed any promise between us."

"Very well then."

As Alan said this he started to close his door. I could not believe it but apparently he meant to leave me standing out in the hall.

"Damn you! Fine I don't care whether we talk naked or wearing clown suits! As least let me come in out of the god damned hall?"

"You are fine there."

Fuming, I yanked my clothes off where I stood and slipped off my under wear. I wadded all of it into a ball and dumped it in his arms. Naked, I strode past him into the living room and sat down with my arms and legs crossed, glaring. The bastard smiled at me and tossed my clothes back out in the hall and closed the door. Still smiling, he came and sat in a chair across from me.

"Alan, we have to talk …but the first thing you must do is unlock this damn gold chain you put around my neck."

"Not yet. I can't talk to you if you are going to wear your hair in that spinsterish bun again."

"For god's sake, Alan after what you did to me, you want to talk about my hair?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Miara. I want it down."

Hair down or up didn't really matter to me. I clawed the pins loose and shook it down over my shoulders. Instead of arguing over these little power trips of his, I would just go along. Eventually, if he had a spark of decency, he would tell me the identity of my attacker. Hopefully, he had not just bribed some filthy street person.

"That is much better, Miara. Now what are you so worked up about, darling?"

"Alan, we made love together. You made me feel close to you and then you had some creep sexually assault me. Who was it, Alan? How can you sit there and even look me in the eye?" I demanded.

"Excuse me, Miara, but before we discuss this further, would you hold your legs open for me? It distracts me when you sit with your legs crossed. There is something dishonest about it. And stop hugging your breasts like a silly school girl!"

Staring at him, to let him know that I was serious and wanted some answers, I uncrossed my legs and folded my hands I my lap.

"No, no. I said open. Come on, or we'll be here all night and take your hands out of your lap and place them behind your neck. Stick your tits out. Don't be so ashamed of your body."

Determined not to get side tracked arguing over his quirks, I sat as he wished. I was still looking right at him, waiting for an answer. He was looking at me too but not at my eyes. His gaze was wandering over my body, appraising my breasts and lingering on my exposed sex. Against my will, I felt myself getting red and my nipples filling. I could see that he was at last ready to address the issue but an acute awareness of my body was beginning to distract me.

"The man you are so worried about is a friend of mine. You needn't worry about any diseases. I wanted to do it for you myself but I knew it wouldn't have worked if I had played the part."

"Worked?" I asked, numbly.

"You had to live out that fantasy to rid yourself of all that guilt. You felt guilt for having been excited by what you saw. You felt guilt because you hid there and watched them. Instead of getting help for that woman, you stayed there and played with your little pussy while she was having her throat raped. That is why for you, the real gut wrenching pleasure of sex will always be associated with coercion. You have to be force fed before you derive any nourishment from it."

I was not happy with what he was saying but I had to consider the possibility that he was right. Even hearing this awful judgment of myself was making me wet. I strove against it but my ass had begun to move against the texture of the settee. All my self-righteous exterior anger had been comforting but it was becoming apparent that my inner feelings were different. Alan was making me wonder if down deep I was nothing but a cum hungry slut.

"You'd like to be angry at me," Alan continued, "But I was nearby and saw you. The moment you got your mouth full of cock, you couldn't keep your hands off your cunt. When it was over, you weren't crying because your mouth was full of strange cum; you were crying because you had enjoyed it."

Alan was right, damn it! It was just so humiliating to hear him say it. Humiliating, yet so arousing! Acknowledging my nasty, sluttish nature was making me want to touch myself.

"You were right to come here tonight, Miara. It is time for you to find out who you really are. Your passionate body wants to challenge your dispassionate mind. Are you ready to let them fight it out?" Alan asked.

"Yes." I whispered, afraid that that my body had already won.

Alan blindfolded me as he had that first night. Again I was led by the chain around my throat and laid out on the bed. The sensation of helplessness occasioned by the securing of my wrists and ankles brought on the same thrill of anticipation tinged with fear. I felt Alan's fingers delve into my pussy and I could hear the wet sound of my arousal.

"I can see you are already excited. I want this to be a real test though. I want the outcome to convince you once and for all that your arid little life is turning you into one of those oranges you hate. A dry, fibrous empty fruit, wrapped in a bright, happy looking peel."

Alan looked hard at me as if willing me the strength to refuse what he was about to offer.

"Promise me that you will try your best not to come. You need to think of anything you are made to feel as being disgusting and foreign to your nature.""

"Yes." I answered, a trifle more assertively.

"There is another woman in the room with us, Miara."

"There is another woman here? Now?" I asked, startled.

"Yes. Her name is Tanna."

"And you think I'm like her. That I'm just some toy you picked for an hours fucking amusement! Now I know what you thought. I can hear you thinking to yourself- 'I'll fuck the silly, little, innocent teacher, dabble around in her head a bit and when she gets to be a drag, why I'll l just dump her! And now you've found some other poor bitch to…"

"Slap"

Alan's palm shocked me into silence. I didn't want to cry but I couldn't stop the tears and the blindfold held their salt to my eyes.

"Her a poor bitch? Likening her to you? Hardly. Remember? You are nothing but a dry, tasteless orange. Tanna here, although you can't see her, is a ripe, red, juicy, poisonous apple. As a professor, you should know that apples and oranges can't be compared."

Without sight, my world had shrunk to the size of his voice and his taunts filled it completely. I could almost feel my self-esteem shrinking under the lash of his words. The feelings of fearful anticipation and sensual hunger grew, as though they were feeding off my vanishing ego. His praise of the unseen woman, led my imagination to conjure up a vision of total femininity, against whom I would never be worthy.

Tanna's legs are lithe and lean. They belong on a Paris runway with the summer collection. Yours are merely two pale tent poles for your closet full of long, drab skirts. Tanna's breasts invite a caress and her nipples put me in mind of sugar-swollen berries begging to be bitten. Yours have an unloved look about them, like pale prisoners, newly released from their harsh, elastic prisons. Tanna's pussy trails a scent of invitation and its release is so generous that it slicks her thighs. The lips of your cunt, Miara, wear a stingy sneer and seem to begrudge every trickle of moisture they produce."

Alan had been punctuating his stinging remarks with progressively harder pinches to my unprotected nipples, leaving them tender and alive. Next I felt his hand slide down over my belly and come to rest in my pubic hair. I could feel him twirling his fingers through it and another set of nerve endings came awake.

"Have you ever become aroused by another woman, Miara?"

"Alan, you know I'm not a lesbian. Of course I never have."

I felt the bed shift and then the sensation of long hair brushing light over my face and breasts. I knew it must be the woman he had been describing. I could smell her perfume. She seemed to be hovering over me. I could feel the air moving as she drifted above my blindfold. There was no contact other than the feathery brush of her hair on my skin. I felt goose bumps break out as my nerves reacted to this faint caress.

"Alan. You win. Untie me."

There was no answer. Had he just left me at this woman's mercy?

"Come on, Alan. You've proved your point."

The sound of my unanswered voice was too lonely and I gave myself over to the silence. It was natural to react to any stimulus, I assured myself, remembering the saleswoman who had fitted my stockings. Her touch had aroused my senses too but I had not found her attractive. Or had I?

My mind went blank as I became aware of a light touch moving over my face. It felt as though the fingers of a blind person were delicately tracing a picture of me. In darkness myself, I wanted to reciprocate but my hands were bound.

The touch left my face and slid along my throat. It traced out my collarbones and trailed down between my breasts. I felt the touch pause at my navel, as if pondering its next direction. I felt it climbing back across my belly and my nipples seemed to get even harder in anticipation of its arrival. They were disappointed though, for the fingers left my body.

My right nipple then felt hot breath on it. I pictured the open mouth just above it. I couldn't help but wish that it would descend and suckle me. Something warm and wet covered it. Saliva, I thought. As the air cooled my damp nipple, it began to ache.

Something brushed my lips. My tongue reached to identify it and found that it was her nipple. I turned my mouth away but the insistent contact followed my lips. The hot breath was more intense on my own nipple. It came to me that if I would accept the strange nipple at my lips, my own would then be bathed in pleasure. Surrendering, I sucked the hard little bud into my mouth and immediately mine was engulfed. The action of my mouth and tongue were duplicated exactly and it was as though I was outside my body and nursing at my own breast. A touch began teasing the edges of my labia. The whole expanse of me was being inundated by warm and wet sensations and I knew I was lost.

The nipple was pulled from my clinging lips and the wet mouth left my breast. The hot breath returned, this time between my legs. Of their own volition, my hips strained up toward the teasing mouth. I felt the hair around my open cunt move as she blew gently into me. At the same moment my nostrils filled with the smell of pussy and her pubic hair tickled my nose. I realized that I was being offered the same quid pro quo.

Why fight it, I thought. I knew I desperately wanted the mouth that was just out of reach to devour me. All I had to do was give in and the release my nerves were screaming for would be granted. My need was stronger than my pride.

"Okay." I told her.

"Okay what, slut?"

Her voice was soft but the mockery in it had a hard edge. Until now there had been a dreamlike aura surrounding me but her voice sharpened my urgency. The smell of her seemed more pungent.

"Lower your pussy. I'll lick you. I want to come."

"I don't believe you really want to please my beautiful pussy."

" I really do. I want to."

I felt her move away from me and her warm breath was suddenly in my ear. Then my nipple was being squeezed. The pressure slowly increased until I was biting my lip to keep from crying out.

"Beg." She hissed in my ear.

"Yes! Yes, I'm begging you. Please let me suck your beautiful pussy."

My nipple was released. I waited for her to lower herself onto my mouth. I was eager to please her now.

I heard small sounds that I couldn't interpret and then heard the door close. As the silence lengthened, I knew I had been left alone. I began weeping in frustration. I had begged a woman to let me eat her cunt and she had rejected me as worthless.

"Alan!"

I screamed into the darkness for him but there was no answer.

16.

I had watched Tanna's entire performance from a corner of the room. It had been good. She had hovered above Miara like a devil cloud. Each time her hot breath had descended to tease those sensitive areas, Miara's excitement had increased. The signs of her arousal had been obvious. I had watched her hips twitch. When her pretty, white teeth were not biting her lips, her tongue had repeatedly moistened them. In the end, she had been panting for it and the scent of her pussy had filled the air.

When she was begging to come, Tanna had looked at me. Shaking my head, I'd motioned her to follow me out of the room. I'd left Miara alone, tied to the bed, bound to her empty, aching cunt but more importantly…a prisoner of her new awareness.

I put her favorite chanteuse on the stereo and turned on the bedroom speaker. A nice touch, I thought. I sat back on the sofa to relax and let the minutes work their magic. An hour of lonely uncertainty would seem an eternity to Miara in her present state. Tanna brought me a fresh scotch and then dropped to the carpet in front of me. With long flat strokes of her tongue she lapped at my feet, while gazing up at me through her lashes. It was, I thought, for all the world like having an adoring Tabby following one about.

"My check is already in your purse, Tanna" I reminded her.

She stopped licking and laid her cheek on my foot, with her eyes still on me.

"I know, Master." He said simply.

It was hard to tell with her at times, where he games ended and the reality began. I withdrew into my head and began to write the next scene of my play. I went through my options and Miara's possible reactions as if working through a chess problem. By the time I arose to fetch her, things looked bright for the black knight and dim for the white queen.

I got up and beckoned for Tanna to follow me. I blindfolded her and spread her face up on the dining table. I tied her to its legs and went for Miara.

She tensed at the sound of the door, her senses straining to tell her what her eyes could not.

"Alan?"

I let the question hang and stood, watching her listen.

"Tanna?"

I let my fingertips lightly graze her nipple. She shivered. She had to guess and naturally she guessed wrong.

"Please, Tanna, I am sorry I hesitated. If you'll tell me what you like…How to do it properly…just give me another chance."

Her hips were moving again. I was glad she wanted to come so badly. Very glad.

"I do want your pussy. I'm begging. Please?"

"Even if I wished to help you," I said at last, " I don't have a pussy."

"Oh! Alan!" she was clearly flustered.

She started trying to explain but I cut her off brusquely. I got her off the bed and led her into he living room by her collar. I sat her in a captain's chair and draped her legs over its arms. I placed her hands behind her neck and told her to stay as she was. I took away the blindfold and let her squint under the bright chandelier. The first thing she registered was Tanna's bound form.

I moved to the head of the table where Tanna's head hung off the edge. I palmed her breasts through the fine silk of her blouse. Miara looked on raptly as I grasped Tanna's nipples and began milking them. I noticed hers getting hard from the visual stimulation.

"Tanna, How much did this blouse cost?" I asked casually.

"I don't remember, Master. It was expensive."

"Is it one of your favorites?"

"Yes, Master."

I gathered its fabric and ripped it open sending buttons flying. I split each sleeve from the cuff and finally managed to tear it loose from her.

"Now it is nothing but a rag. Are you angry about that?"

"No, Master."

"Why aren't you angry, Tanna? I would be."

"Everything I have is yours. What pleases you pleases me, Master."

I pulled my cock from my trousers and moved near Miara. She looked at me for some indication of what I wanted but I kept my expression neutral. When she finally leaned forward to take it in her mouth, I slapped her face lightly and backed away. I smiled at her hurt, confused expression. I turned instead to Tanna.

"Show this silly, repressed little teacher how to ask for my cock."

"Please, Master, may I taste your cock. Use my mouth. Use all of me. Hurt my nipples while you fuck my throat."

I moved forward into Tanna's open mouth and stretched her nipples up off her chest. Miara watched open mouthed as I fucked Tanna's moaning mouth and tortured her nipples. I stroked in and out deeply all the while pulling and shaking her suspended tits. I felt my orgasm coming on and withdrew to let my sperm shoot out onto Tanna's face. She sighed and sent her tongue out for whatever cum it could reach.

I took a pocketknife from my pocket and cut away Tanna's trousers. I moved again to Miara.

"Now, use your silly mouth to make me hard again for Tanna's cunt."

The humiliation of being rejected started her crying. She turned her tearful face away in refusal. I slapped her again. Reluctantly her mouth opened and accepted me. A sharp pinch to her tit convinced her to suck. Once I was fully erect again, I pushed her head away rudely and mounted the table. As I entered Tanna she began a quiet chant of exhortations. Miara's eyes, averted at first, were soon drawn back to us. Even tied down, Tanna was writhing like a gigged eel but it was too soon for me to come again. Finally I felt Tanna's pussy clench and flood. I faked a big orgasm of my own for Miara's benefit. I lay there with my cock embedded in Tanna and slowly looked over at Miara.

"She's very wet down there, Miara. Earlier you were asking for some pussy. Would you like to come over here and clean her out? Have the leftovers so to speak?"

This final dig was too much for her. She must have had a mental image of herself, sitting there with her legs spread and her nipples hard, all the while being insulted. She slid to the floor and curled into a ball, sobbing.

"My God, Alan! What do you want from me? Why are you hurting me like this? Don't you know that I want us to have a relationship? I've fallen in love with you damn it"

"Why? You still haven't a clue do you? I have no intention of spending a lifetime negotiating with you. I don't want a girlfriend, or a fiancé, or a wife, I want you as my slave. I don't want the paltry little part of you that you wish to trade for a wedding ring. The only ring I'm offering is the one on that collar around your neck."

"But..." she began.

I hauled her up by her hair and pulled her along to the door.

"But nothing! I've ordered a gold leash to match that collar. I have instructed the jeweler to send it to you when it is ready. Now get out and don't come back unless you are on the end of that leash."

I pushed her out into the foyer and closed the door on her.

17.

My mind was in a shambles as I struggled into my clothes. I was even thankful to have them. The bastard could as easily have put me out there with nothing to wear. He was capable of anything. Part of me wanted to flee down the stairs, as fast as my legs could carry me. Insanely, the other half of me made me wait for the elevator, hoping that his door would open and he would appear to explain it all away. He didn't though.

Driving home, I alternated between crying and cursing. I even had a moment of mad laughter. By the time I pulled in my drive I was as limp as a wet dishrag.

There were three messages from Jenny on my machine, each one more insistent than the last that I call her. God, I wanted to. I needed a shoulder to cry on. I knew that I couldn't though. I would have to start from the beginning and give her all the gory details. By the time she heard me out, she would be convinced that I was crazy. I felt as if I might be going crazy.

The fucking craziest part of it all was that it was really Alan's shoulder I wanted to cry on. What a fucking roller coaster he has put me on, I thought. And Tanna? What was she to Alan? Obviously they had not just met. Was she his lover or slave? She had called him Master. Did he want me to join her in some sort of harem? Too many questions kept banging around in my head. I rummaged around until I found a bottle of tequila that I had never been able to finish. I poured a water glass full and washed down three aspirins. I took my drink into the bedroom and was horrified to see that it was past 2 a.m.

I woke up, already late for work and still in my clothes but I didn't give a damn. I'd never been late before, so fuck 'em, I thought. I called Admin and told them I had car trouble and would get there when I could. I almost told them I was sick and to cancel the day but the idea of being alone with my thoughts was intolerable.

What was left of the morning was one long agony. I found that I suddenly hated my students. I found myself comparing them to leaches. Energy leaches, I thought. To escape them, I found my mind replaying the scene in Alan's apartment. Even the memory of the sensations I had experienced made me wet as I sat at my desk. A vivid picture of Alan's hands twisting Tanna's nipples while she moaned with pleasure invaded my head. I actually wanted to get up and go to the ladies room and masturbate.

Jenny cornered me at lunch. I hated lying to her and dodging the issue but I had no choice. I knew what her advice would be and for some stupid reason I knew that I was not ready to quit. Maybe I really was a masochist. What else explained my obsession with this man? She poked me and brought me back from my thoughts.

"I mean it, girlfriend. You look tired. You have definitely been burnin' both ends of the candle."

"Yes. I admit it. I had a late night."

"I know you've been without ever since you got here. Not That I could figure out why.

But look here, just because you found somethin' fine, don't nasty yourself to death!"

"Yes," I smiled, "I'll get some rest tonight. Don't worry, Jenny."

"You better. You better call too. I'm sick of talkin' to your machine."

It was a relief when she finally left. She was my only friend and yet in a mere few days my reality had moved to a different and distant zip code.

During the afternoon, only my body was in the lecture room. I could hear myself droning on about the post-war boom and wished that I would shut up. I was alone during my last hour, grading essays, when the erotic visions returned. This Time I fantasized that it was me who had been tied to his table. Without thinking, I began twisting my nipples and did at last, hurry to the ladies room. When I left the stall where I had frantically sought release, I was once more conflicted, momentarily satisfied and vaguely ashamed of myself. On my way out to the parking lot I knew, that somehow, I must end this emotional duality that was torturing me.

18.

I leaned back against the door after I had closed it on her. Well the die was cast, I thought. I had placed her at a fork in the path and could only hope she would choose the one that circled back to me. I felt sated with Miara's departure and so noticing that Tanna was looking at me longingly, made me sigh. I really was feeling rather drained.

I untied Tanna and praised her performance. I offered her one of my overcoats for the trip back to her place. She let it slide from her fingers and it dropped to the floor. Without a word she sank to her knees and crawled off down the hall toward my bedroom. She took her time, pausing once to look back at me over her shoulder, with pleading eyes, before passing from sight through my door.

My ambivalence melted and I followed her after all. Tanna had truly mastered the art of seduction and could have stirred juices from a stone. She was in the bed with a single sheet pulled to her chin. I took a corner of it and tugged it slowly down her body, appreciating her, an inch at a time. Fully unveiled, she really was breathtaking. Tanna had the sort of beauty that excites a man no matter how often he has viewed it. A quality that great art captures and holds timeless.

I knew what she wanted. Right then, I would have preferred to give her the soft, gentle lovemaking that many women crave but I knew her needs were different.

"Turn over and raise your bottom, Tanna." I demanded.

I sat beside her on the bed and wrapped my left arm around her. I pulled her waist to my side and began kneading her bottom cheeks.

"I know that I praised your performance but it occurs to me that you also did something very naughty while you were tied to that table."

As I spoke, I ran the tips of my fingers up and down the lips of her slit. Her purse was protruding impudently below the crevice of her raised ass. My attentions drew a sigh from her.

"You came without permission. Didn't you, Tanna." I stated, accusingly.

"Yes, Master. I couldn't help myself."

"I'm sorry, Tanna, but I can't let it pass."

"I understand, Master."

Gauging my force carefully, I brought my open hand down sharply on her proffered rear end.

"Smack!"

I waited a moment testing her reaction. Her ass twitched impatiently and I knew she wanted more. I began moving from one cheek to the other. Each slap the tiniest bit harder than its predecessor. Harder and faster I paddled. Somewhere along the way, her cries joined the rhythm of my hand. I was panting by the time she arched up off the bed and came with a loud wail.

I flopped onto my back, exhausted. After a bit, I felt her lips brush mine and then move to my ear.

"Thank you, Master. I wish you had found me years ago. I envy the attention you are lavishing on your little teacher. I had actually retired from what I used to do until I heard your voice on the phone today. If she fails to return to you…call me, huh?"

I felt her slip away and the rosy glow faded from my closed eyelids as the light went out.

* * *

I awoke around nine, feeling refreshed. I breakfasted on the terrace and made several phone calls. The first to the jeweler, who assured me that the commission I had given him, had been picked up by the messenger service. He said it was one of his finer pieces. Yes he'd received my note and had included it as instructed. To my amusement, he told me he assumed that the lady who was receiving such a costly gift must have a poodle of which she was exceedingly fond.

Next I made first class reservations for two on the next evening's flight to Costa Rica. If Miara accepted my gift I wanted to take her away from anything that would remind her of her old self. I would take a villa on the water for us. It would be the perfect setting while Miara and I defined our relationship. The interplay between master and slave was never the simplistic, black and white arrangement that many assume. Over time, subtle innovations colored and shaded the pleasures that were exchanged.

If I was rejected …well, I wanted a change anyway. The fact was, that I had been bored stiff with this town for some time now. Initially, it was boredom that had set me to chasing Miara. Along the way I had developed a desire for her that I could not explain. Why I would choose a girl next door type, over someone like the exotic Tanna, still baffled me. This was probably a good thing. I suspected that once we came to totally understand our motivations, it would all be over. No more thrills. No more mystery. Yes, I thought, mystery was the crucial spice if one wanted to cook up a delicious life.

19.

Another miserable night and another day without Alan had dawned. Sometime during the night, between restless moments of sleep, I had decided to submit my resignation, effective at the end of the semester. I would start all over again. I couldn't bring myself to crawl to him again but I also knew I could not remain in the same city without being tempted to do so.

I had no idea how I would make it through the semester. I'd been tired and snappish all morning. Repeatedly, I had found myself touching the gold choker around my neck. I was torn between having it removed and keeping it. It seemed that it would be all I would ever have of Alan. In fact, during lunch, a tenaciously inquiring Jenny had pestered me as to its origin. I had more or less told to mind her own business. She would probably never speak to me again.

I suffered into the afternoon but then I could no longer take it. I went to the Dean's office and told his secretary that I was simply too ill to carry on.

Driving home, I wondered if I shouldn't stop off at the Pig and Whistle and drown my sorrows. It occurred to me that I might go in there and pick up the first halfway presentable male I found and screw his socks off. Wonderful, I thought, by day, I could be the meek, mild Professor of history and by night, a prowling, suburban slut. As I came to the pub, I accelerated past it, as though it were responsible for my entertaining such garish thoughts.

Home at last, I threw off my clothes and hurried to the shower. With the spray as hot as I could stand it I let it beat on my neck. I was lost in the heat and steam and the sound of the door chime almost escaped me.

"Damn."

I grabbed my robe and hurried to the door. A distorted face above a brown UP uniform peered back at me through the spyglass. I signed for a small but very heavy parcel. On my way back to the bedroom I remembered Alan's words.

"I have ordered a gold leash to match that collar. I've instructed the jeweler to send it to you when it's ready."

The shower was still running but the parcel in my hands was a strong magnet holding my attention. Feeling as if I was opening Pandora's box, I unwrapped it. It was a flat case done in red Moroccan leather. I slowly opened it. Bedded in satin, a length of beautifully worked gold lay curled like a slender serpent of temptation. I drew it out through my fingers. A cream colored envelope had been hiding beneath it. I slipped the card from it.

"My Darling Miara,

I know the deepest part of you hungers for what we can share together. If I seemed harsh or cruel, it was only because I wanted to shock you awake. This piece of jewelry is merely a golden symbol of commitment. Please…attach it to the collar you wear so beautifully and bring it to me. I swear I will only use it to lead you to the life we both deserve. To the place where we belong…together.

Love, Alan.

I let his card slip from my fingers. I opened my robe and holding each end of the chain's length, I dragged its weight up across my body. All the sensations of that first night with Alan seemed to flow into me from its cool touch on my skin. I looped it around my wrist and choked up on it, pinning my hand to the bed. The memory of how my helplessness had freed my pleasure was vivid. I felt my pussy begin to flow.

Almost in a trance, I got up from the bed and moved to the bathroom. I wiped the steam from the mirror and watched myself as I clipped the end of the chain to the collar's ring. I thought how often I'd looked at this mirror and found myself lacking. I looked now, with Alan's golden symbol hanging between my breasts and I felt incredibly beautiful and sexy. I wanted to make love to myself… but even more urgently; I knew that I needed Alan's hands on me.

I barely remembered to turn off the shower as I hurried for my raincoat. Wearing only that and a pair of flats, I bolted for my car.

20.

Yesterday and a long night had passed without word or sight of Miara. I knew that she would have received my gift and note last evening at the latest. Even if her mind had still been crawling with contradictions, she would have decided by now. I had to assume that the fear of leaving her secure little nest had been too great.

I wanted her. Perhaps, I had even fallen in love with her. However, I wanted no part of her silly life. Her feelings may have come to mirror my own. I was sure she wanted me as well but my anarchistic attitude must have proved an impossible barrier for her.

I did have the two tickets. For the briefest moment, Tanna's whispered invitation to call her echoed in my ears. It was no real temptation though. Her presence would be a constant reminder of my failure with Miara.

I had occupied my morning packing a bag. I had called my attorney and informed him of my plans. Once I had made my arrangements down there, he would send over some movers. A glance at my wrist showed 3 pm. There was nothing left to do and my time had run out. With less than three hours until take off and airports being what they now were, it was time to leave.

I hoisted my leather duffel and headed for the door. The terrace and its lovely view would belong to someone else within a month.

21.

Somehow I had arrived at Alan's apartment without an accident. I had driven in a daze. I wanted to surprise him, so I waited impatiently for another tenant to drive in. At last one arrived and I was able to follow him into the underground garage. As I rode up in the elevator, I felt all the doubts that had bedeviled the days and nights since I had met Alan falling away.

Stepping out into his foyer, I remembered the embarrassment I had felt at having been made to undress here such a short time before. I felt like laughing. I calmly unbelted my raincoat, folded it neatly and laid it on the carpet. I set my flats side by side on top of the coat. Pulling the end of my leash from between my legs, I placed it in my mouth.

I dropped to my knees before Alan's door. Noticing my wristwatch, I took it off. I wanted to present myself to him naked, except for his jewelry. I rang his bell and knelt there with my lead between my teeth. I would always remember that 4 o'clock had been the hour of my deliverance.