you ever did, you would never stop slapping us.”
I laughed and rolled my eyes, a bit frustrated at his coy attitude. A man so proud of his own thoughts and yet afraid of offending me that he could only hint around at what his heart wanted. I was ready to scandalize him. I wanted to win this game. I wanted to feel absolute power.
“Well, Nate, here’s the thing. My intuition is telling me that I’m going to go home now...”
“Yeah?”
“Forget that I ever met you.”
“Yeah…”
“And use a vibrator. As I always do, before bed. Because it helps me sleep.”
“Oh…” he said, hiding a gulp.
“Are girls not supposed to say that?” I asked with a grin. “Does that intimidate you?”
“Well, no, not really…I mean…”
“But I’m also thinking what would be the big deal about using you…”
“Using me?”
“Yeah. Instead of the toy. Using you as a toy. Your tongue. Using your…big dick?”
He laughed hard.
“Does that intimidate you?”
“No…well…”
“Oh wait. Was it the word ‘big’? Is that a no-no?”
“Well, if you must know, it’s not about the size. It’s about how you use it.” He smiled and winked. My instincts said it was a perverted look, a clear cut case of sexual harassment. But I chose to see it differently. It was a verbal love tap. An expression of endearment by a man who had almost no power, no chance, and no expectations except what I would give to him.
“Oh, I see!” I said, touching his shoulder and stirring up his senses. I caught him looking so fondly at my arms and hands. Wondering, fantasizing, about what it would be like, for him to jump up to my league and take me. If only he were rich. If only he were a little more charming.
And the old me would have found a reason to dismiss myself by now. But I wanted to play with fate. But first, wearing the mind of a man, I had to get that all important consent.
“Well, I guess I’ll be going home now.” I bid Nate a shy smile goodnight and got up, leaving behind a tip. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him staring despondently, realizing this was a now or never moment—possibly a once in a lifetime moment.
“Well…would you like to come to my place for some drinks? Also got weed. Watch some movies.”
“Hmmm,” I said flippantly. “I don’t smoke. And I’m not really in the mood to drink or watch movies tonight. So…”
He seemed miffed and bit his lip. “Well, it was just my polite way of saying, why don’t you use my face as a vibrator.” He laughed, looking away, probably figuring he might as well strike out in style. I could tell he got a nice full body tingle from saying that and meaning it. I waited until he met my eyes again. I leaned in closer to his ear, taking his presence in with all my senses. His smell. My cheek barely grazing his. The admiring, dreamy gaze in his eyes. The little sounds of his gulping and heightened breathing seemed to overpower the sounds of a bar TV and clanking drinks.
“Yes. I want to go back to your place.”
**
To my surprise, even when we pulled up to his less than stellar apartment, I didn’t feel the dread of regret. The pangs of conscience seemed oddly silenced. I didn’t even feel worried for my safety, since I knew the negotiation was over. We both wanted the same thing. As soon as we entered his apartment, a typical bachelor pad and only moderately cleaned for the unlikely prospect of a visitor, I stopped him. Leaning back on the living room wall, I said nothing except what the selfish side of me felt at that moment.
“Don’t kiss me,” I said, looking into his eyes and meaning it. I didn’t want to fall in love. I wanted release.
He understood me perfectly, and hopped to attention, nibbling my neck and inhaling my subtle work perfume, which had melded to my natural skin taste and a few hours of after work
I laughed and rolled my eyes, a bit frustrated at his coy attitude. A man so proud of his own thoughts and yet afraid of offending me that he could only hint around at what his heart wanted. I was ready to scandalize him. I wanted to win this game. I wanted to feel absolute power.
“Well, Nate, here’s the thing. My intuition is telling me that I’m going to go home now...”
“Yeah?”
“Forget that I ever met you.”
“Yeah…”
“And use a vibrator. As I always do, before bed. Because it helps me sleep.”
“Oh…” he said, hiding a gulp.
“Are girls not supposed to say that?” I asked with a grin. “Does that intimidate you?”
“Well, no, not really…I mean…”
“But I’m also thinking what would be the big deal about using you…”
“Using me?”
“Yeah. Instead of the toy. Using you as a toy. Your tongue. Using your…big dick?”
He laughed hard.
“Does that intimidate you?”
“No…well…”
“Oh wait. Was it the word ‘big’? Is that a no-no?”
“Well, if you must know, it’s not about the size. It’s about how you use it.” He smiled and winked. My instincts said it was a perverted look, a clear cut case of sexual harassment. But I chose to see it differently. It was a verbal love tap. An expression of endearment by a man who had almost no power, no chance, and no expectations except what I would give to him.
“Oh, I see!” I said, touching his shoulder and stirring up his senses. I caught him looking so fondly at my arms and hands. Wondering, fantasizing, about what it would be like, for him to jump up to my league and take me. If only he were rich. If only he were a little more charming.
And the old me would have found a reason to dismiss myself by now. But I wanted to play with fate. But first, wearing the mind of a man, I had to get that all important consent.
“Well, I guess I’ll be going home now.” I bid Nate a shy smile goodnight and got up, leaving behind a tip. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him staring despondently, realizing this was a now or never moment—possibly a once in a lifetime moment.
“Well…would you like to come to my place for some drinks? Also got weed. Watch some movies.”
“Hmmm,” I said flippantly. “I don’t smoke. And I’m not really in the mood to drink or watch movies tonight. So…”
He seemed miffed and bit his lip. “Well, it was just my polite way of saying, why don’t you use my face as a vibrator.” He laughed, looking away, probably figuring he might as well strike out in style. I could tell he got a nice full body tingle from saying that and meaning it. I waited until he met my eyes again. I leaned in closer to his ear, taking his presence in with all my senses. His smell. My cheek barely grazing his. The admiring, dreamy gaze in his eyes. The little sounds of his gulping and heightened breathing seemed to overpower the sounds of a bar TV and clanking drinks.
“Yes. I want to go back to your place.”
**
To my surprise, even when we pulled up to his less than stellar apartment, I didn’t feel the dread of regret. The pangs of conscience seemed oddly silenced. I didn’t even feel worried for my safety, since I knew the negotiation was over. We both wanted the same thing. As soon as we entered his apartment, a typical bachelor pad and only moderately cleaned for the unlikely prospect of a visitor, I stopped him. Leaning back on the living room wall, I said nothing except what the selfish side of me felt at that moment.
“Don’t kiss me,” I said, looking into his eyes and meaning it. I didn’t want to fall in love. I wanted release.
He understood me perfectly, and hopped to attention, nibbling my neck and inhaling my subtle work perfume, which had melded to my natural skin taste and a few hours of after work
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