Good Girl by Susan Wright

I want to do it tomorrow
night?”
    She had to smile. “I’d say yes. But I
don’t expect a relationship to come of this.”
    There it was again; the slamming of a
door inside of her, cutting him off from everything important. “Why not?”
    She blinked a few times, as if it was so
obvious she didn’t know where to start. “I’m not kinky, for one thing.”
    “I beg to differ. You’re loving this.”
    “I’m sure this is like twiddling thumbs
to you.”
    “No! I love it! I adore the way you
respond, with your heart and soul. So sensitive! So responsive. It’s like
playing with the wind.”
    Now Kali looked away, embarrassed. She
was closing herself off more each second. She covered her breasts with her
arms. Her shirt was still looped around one.
    He helped her sit up. “You don’t know
what I want. We haven’t talked about relationships at all. You’re making
assumptions based on one glimpse of one of my play partners.”
    “What is your relationship with Minx?”
    “I’m not in love with her. And she isn’t
with me. We enjoy playing together. And she helps me keep the studio clean.” He
wasn’t going to go into the deeply structured relationship he had with Minx,
wherein they were always in Master/slave roles when they were together.
    Kali was looking at him with rising
skepticism in her eyes. He could see goose-bumps starting on her skin as her
flush slipped away. This was not how he wanted to end their first scene
together. It had spiraled out of control.
    It was so unlike him.
    He felt fear deep inside at the thought
that she was going to slip through his fingers. He wanted to grab her even
harder, to hold her closer and make her understand what he meant.
    But he couldn’t. He forced himself to
smile and relax, so he wouldn’t frighten her. It took an effort of supreme
will. Fear in a sexual context could be delicious, but the kind of fear she was
feeling now was making her run away from him.
    He had to finish the scene and give her
the closure she needed after opening herself up to him. So he took her into the
kitchen and carefully scraped off the wax with a butter knife. He made her
laugh, and then tickled her until she nearly screamed. Just enough so he felt
more in control. He knew he was weak to do it. But he felt like he had just run
a marathon and had to turn around and run all the way back again before he was
done. He needed a long cool drink of water, something to sustain him. So he
tickled her and felt her wiggle in his arms as he held her, and shamelessly
rubbed his denim-covered dick against her body.
    Then he carried her to her room and
helped her get out her nightclothes. He pulled back the bed and plumped the
pillow while she stared at him. “Go get ready for bed. I’ll clean up out
there.”
    While she was in the bathroom, he swept
up the waxy bits from the coffee table. She wouldn’t like finding them ground
into the rug the next morning, so he made sure they were all gathered up. The
candle was out and he fixed the magazines, then turned out all the lights
except for the one by the door.
    Kali met him next to the door wearing a
long white nightshirt.
    “You look like an angel,” he told her.
    He took her face gently in her hands and
kissed her again. This time he restrained himself. She was begging for more,
but he let her know he wanted her, then pulled back, kissing her on the
forehead before he left.
    “Go to bed. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,”
he said, going out the door.
    As aftercare for him, it sucked. Why did
he feel like he was the one who just got whipped? But he couldn’t lie down on
her bed and cuddle with her, as he wanted to. He would end up having sex with
her, and probably scaring her because he couldn’t control himself. That would
only confirm her idea that this hook up would be brief and meteoric.
    He couldn’t believe how much that
thought panicked him. He paused outside her closed door, wanting to knock, to
return and hold her for a few minutes. But