by M. L. Young
As I looked at Chase’s blood-filled plate, I didn’t know if he was truly interested in a rare steak, or as I liked to call it, a living cow, or if he’d ordered it to try to subtly assert his manliness. He seemed like that kind of type, the aggressive take-all-even-if-it-kills-you type. I’m not saying I hated it; it was better than the true losers I’d been with, and after all, he did choose a first date in the fanciest place I’d probably ever get to eat in. I supposed I could put up with his shit because of that.
As I took a small bite of my dish, Chase watched me with his piercing eyes, before cutting off a fat piece of his steak.
“How is it?” he asked.
“Very good. The best fish I’ve ever had,” I said, before I held my napkin to my mouth and patted it clean.
“So, you never told me what you do for a living,” he said.
“Well,” I said, before swallowing a small bite, “I’m in school now, and that takes up a lot of my time. I also work part-time at the school, part of the work-study program they have for students.”
“Interesting. Do you like school?” he asked.
“I like it enough to stay,” I said, flashing a smile.
“School can be good for some, but also a colossal waste of time for others, even if society heavily presses its importance. I find that what you learn in the real world is more applicable to a successful life than what you learn in a classroom. Unless, of course, you’re going into medicine, that is,” he said.
“Yeah, I would sort of agree, at least in terms of the required yet useless classes I’ve had to take that aren’t related to my career at all. You have to put in a lot of work for a piece of paper,” I said.
“That’s why I didn’t get one,” he said.
“I’ve wondered that about you. You’re dressed nice, you probably have a nice car, and you seem to have some kind of money. What do you do?” I asked.
Chase looked at me, chewing his steak, before taking a sip of his scotch and wiping his mouth with his crisp, white linen napkin.
“I help people get well known. Those with talent,” he said.
“So you’re an agent?” I asked.
It would’ve made perfect sense if he were an agent. He was in Los Angeles, after all. Helping people get jobs and get famous was what they themselves were famous for.
“Not exactly. I work in the industry, but I’m far from being an agent, manager, or any other worthless parasitic job you could name related to those,” he said, taking another bite.
“So, you’re at a record label? Movie studio? What?” I asked.
“I work in music, exclusively,” he said.
“That sounds fun! I’ve always had a knack for music, but not singing. I actually played the saxophone from seventh through eleventh grade, though I was only second chair,” I said.
“Out of how many?” he asked.
“Three,” I said, shyly.
“There’s nothing wrong with that. You were still better than the other person who was unlucky enough to come last. How come you didn’t play in twelfth grade as well?” he asked.
“Just lost interest, I guess. I knew it wasn’t going to make a difference with colleges, so it would’ve just been for the fun of doing it, and I wasn’t having much fun at all. Marching through football fields surrounded by cornfields with a saxophone and a funny hat isn’t exactly ideal,” I said.
“Cornfields?” he asked.
“Yeah, cornfields. I’m originally from Iowa,” I said.
“Nice. I’m from Illinois,” he said, flashing a quick smile.
“Oh,” I said, smiling.
“Do you ever miss it back there?” he asked.
“Sometimes. I like being out here, though, even if it is a little hard at times. Being a student with a part-time job and your own place isn’t exactly easy,” I said.
“That doesn’t sound easy at all. How do you do it?” he asked.
“Between the money from the job, student loans, grants, and my parents, I’m able to kind of make it work. I should find a new place or a roommate or something, but I guess deep down I’m just a glutton for punishment,” I said, laughing.
“Duly noted,” he said, an almost devious look on his face.
“How is everything this evening? May I get you something? Possibly a dessert list?” Armon asked as he snuck up behind me.
“No, I believe we will be having plenty of that later, thank you,” Chase said, with a straight face that almost bordered on the sociopathic.
Armon nodded, not saying a word about the apparent innuendo he had just spewed with ease, and I felt a flutter of nerves in my stomach as I tried to keep a straight face and not react. What exactly did he mean by that? Was he planning on us doing something? I couldn’t say it hadn’t crossed my mind, and lord knew I need to get laid, but already? Shouldn’t there be more dates first? I wasn’t experienced enough for this.
Fifteen minutes passed and Chase looked ready to go. His drink was empty, and mine was close to gone. I started to feel nervous, as he hadn’t insisted or even hinted at me going to his place, or him to mine, and I wasn’t exactly sure where we stood on that subject.
“Well, are you ready to go?” he asked, after paying the check, the ink on the receipt drying.
I nodded, stood up, and walked behind him to the front door, where a man opened it and smiled at us as he held it open. We went outside and Chase handed the valet attendant a slip of paper, the man quickly sprinting into the lot to retrieve his car.
“So, are you coming with?” he asked, as he looked at me with his devious stare.
“Where?” I asked, as I cleared my throat.
“My place,” he said.
A few seconds passed, Chase staring me down the entire time, before I gave in to his request.
“Yeah, I suppose I could stop by and check it out,” I said, trying to act suave.
A red sports car pulled up to the line, the engine roaring like a maniacal, mythical beast, and the valet hopped out and kept the door open for Chase.
“This is yours?” I asked, gazing at the candy red exterior.
“Of course,” he replied, a small smile on his face, as if I should have known.
Chase opened the door for me, and I crouched down and slid happily inside. The car was lower to the ground than any I had ever ridden in before. I could smell the sweet scent of Italian leather, the fragrant aroma dancing through my stimulated nose. The vibrant stitching was executed like a Renaissance painting. It was perfect.
Chase shut the door and walked around the front, the headlights drowning out the black of his pants, before he got in the car, closed his door, and hit a few buttons.
“Ready?” he asked, as he buckled his seatbelt.
“Ready,” I replied, buckling mine, as the soft, short click filled my empty, amazed mind.
•••
After twenty minutes of driving, we pulled up to a gate, and Chase rolled down his window and entered a code before the large metal gates slowly opened, letting us drive through. They closed after we went through, and lights on the side of the driveway lit up as we passed, illuminating our path. I was amazed at what I was looking at. This couldn’t be his house…could it? I knew he had some money, by dinner and this car, but this place was the type you’d see in celebrity magazines. He must share this with someone. He had to.
“Well, here we are,” he said, as we pulled into a five-car garage that was filled with four other cars, including an SUV, two classic cars, and what appeared to be one of those electric vehicles I saw in a magazine ad the other day.
I followed Chase, who didn’t say a word, up to the door, and what I saw next took my breath away.
It was the most beautiful sight. The floor to ceiling windows in his living room opened to a panoramic view of the city as we sat up in the hills. The lights of other houses, buildings, and cars twinkled in the distance, making me feel almost like I was up in an airplane. It was magical.
“I take it you like the view?�
�� he asked, as he put away his keys.
“Yeah, it’s magnificent,” I said, as I continued to gaze over the horizon.
He walked up, standing next to me, and looked at me, before I looked over at him, seeing a soft look on his face after a dinner of intense, hard stares.
“Yeah, the view is magnificent,” he said.
Without so much as a warning, he leaned in, his lips pressing against mine with a force of spontaneity so strong that the butterflies in my stomach begged to be let out. I didn’t push him away, slap him, or tell him no—instead I took the kiss, loving the way his lips pressed against mine with the force of primal attraction. It was a feeling I hadn’t felt in a while, though I’d longed for it, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to back away or give it up for fear I would go another long while before getting the taste of it again.
His hand ran down the side of my dress, goose bumps forming all along my thighs, their bumpy armor not enough to keep him away as he grabbed my hip. It wasn’t enough force to hurt me, but it was more than enough to let me know he was there, and boy, was he there.
Just as I had started to get into it, he slowly pulled away, our lips connected before they were pulled apart, sticking to one another, as if they didn’t want this to end either.
“Come with me,” he said, grabbing my hand.
I held onto him, following him wherever he wanted me to go, not a single ounce of hesitation or trepidation in my body or soul. After that kiss, I knew what was coming next, but then again, I wanted him to show me.
We walked down his hallway, where there were pictures on the walls of him and famous people, some I knew and some I didn’t. I didn’t have much time to look, since I was being whisked quickly away down the never-ending hallway. He had wood floors, the kind that were probably made from some now-extinct wood that a thousand species of animals used and needed for their own little ecosystem. Looking around, he seemed wasteful that way, but for some reason, I didn’t care.
“Where are we going?” I asked, as we reached the end of the hallway.
“Well, that’s my bedroom right there,” he said, pointing to the door on the right.
“Well?” I asked, wondering what the holdup was.
“We aren’t going in there, at least not yet. The bedroom is for sleeping,” he said, putting his hand on the silver handle of the door on the left.
“Then what is this room for?” I asked, almost hesitantly, as if I were scared of knowing the answer.
With a smirk, he turned the handle, the door opening as dim lights inside turned on with the motion of the swinging door.
My hand still laced with his, we walked inside, the door shutting behind me, the room neatly put together with a bed, some weird curved chair thing, a couple dressers, and some things hanging on the wall next to the bed whose purpose I couldn’t figure out.
“Have you ever been spanked?” he asked, as he walked over to the wall.
“Spanked?” I asked nervously.
He pulled a long, black stick off of the wall before walking over to me, swatting the wider end of it gently into the palm of his other hand.
“Yes…spanked,” he said with conviction.
“No…” I replied.
“Be a good girl and bend over.”
I felt myself getting excited, almost happy that I got something way more than I bargained for. I didn’t know why he had this room, but I had a feeling I was about to find out what he did in it.
He guided me over to a dresser and I put my hands on the top, arching my back, my ass sticking out and up for him. I saw him smile in a mirror on the wall, just above the bed, before he cocked back the stick and slapped my ass with it. It pushed me a little forward, a light, strong moan coming out of me, as he continued spanking me, not too hard, but hard enough to leave a light red mark. Or so I hoped.
“Do you like it when I spank you?” he asked as he stood behind me.
“Yes,” I said softly, as my bated words escaped my mouth.
I felt his hand pushing my skirt up, as his hand quickly cupped my bare ass and squeezed it gently.
“Do you like it when I touch you?” he asked in a straight, calm voice.
“Yes,” I said, my eyes now closed as I gripped the top of the wooden dresser harder, my nails starting to scrape against the wood.
“How about now?” he asked, squeezing harder.
Before I could reply, he turned me around, my hair cutting through the air like a thousand little blades, my back pushed up against the wall, his hands gripping my wrists, pinning them above my head. He looked at me like a lion at its prey, not a single ounce of nervousness on his face, though I knew there was a ton on mine. Even though he was aggressive, I knew he wasn’t going to hurt me. Hell, I wanted him to do this to me, but I was still nervous, and I liked it.
He leaned forward, starting to kiss my neck, his hands still pinning mine against the wall. My chin gently rose up in the air, giving him more room to trace his lips against my throbbing neck. He pushed against me softly, his bulge caressing my thigh, the thin fabric of our clothes unable to stop the euphoric sensation of our bodies rubbing together.
Just as I started to like this, he stopped kissing me, moved his lips up towards my ear, and whispered the words I wanted to hear more than anything in this moment.
“I want to fuck you.”
I bit my lower lip, giving him a simple acceptance of his invitation, before he led me over to the bed, which had a thick, fluffy black comforter spread out across it. I sat on the edge, looking up at him, before he walked over to his dresser and opened a drawer near the top. He pulled something out, letting it dangle from his hand, before closing the drawer and walking over towards me, pulling his shirt out of his pants.
“What’s that for?” I asked.
“Put this on,” he said, as he put the satin blindfold over my eyes.
“What’s it for?”
“If I tell you, then it won’t be a surprise,” he said.
I heard him unzip his pants, his belt buckle clinking as it hit the floor, before he shuffled the pants away, his belt making another sound as it flew across the room.
“Open your mouth,” he ordered.
I didn’t question him, able to piece two and two together. Even though I rarely ever did it, I had never wanted to suck a cock more than I did right now.
“Wider,” he said.
My pussy starting to get wet, I accepted his order, opening my mouth wider, as far as it could go. I felt him get closer, hearing him breathe, and I could sense it, his dick, right in front of my face. Just as my opened mouth began to get lonely, he slowly slid it in, his shaft brushing against my tongue, before he hit a pocket of spit in the back of my mouth. It was big.
“Yeah, just like that,” he said, as he grabbed my hair and pulled it back, grabbing it into a ponytail to keep it from getting into my mouth.
I started to suck his cock, letting it slide in and out, down my throat, as he slowly motioned back and forth like he was fucking my mouth. I couldn’t fit it all in, maybe three quarters of it at best. Some of his thrusts made my eyes water and tear up underneath the blindfold.
Just as my mouth and jaw began to get tired a few minutes later, he said something that would stir me up even more than he had already.
“You’ve been such a good girl tonight. How about I return the favor?” he asked, as his cock slowly slid out of my mouth, a trail of spit stretching out between the head of his cock and my lips, before I swallowed and looked up at him, the blindfold still on.
“Return it how?” I asked, almost hoping he wouldn’t tell me.
He grabbed my hand, pulling me up, and then pulled my dress over my head and tossed it clear across the room.
“Keep your blindfold on,” he said, as he undid my bra.
I felt the cool air beat against my bare tits, my nipples hardening, as his hands cupped them and squeezed, pulling my right nipple gently. He got close enough to let his cock brush against my bare thigh, so close
to my pulsating and now throbbing pussy, the likes of which had never seen or experienced a cock that felt this big.
“Get on your back,” he said, guiding me back towards the bed.
I laid back, my arms at my sides, as he grabbed my purple lace panties and pulled them down slowly.
“Mmm,” he mumbled as he spread my legs apart.
I tried not to smile, but I couldn’t help myself, my only saving grace being the lip bite I did to try to keep myself from looking too needy. I only waited ten seconds, but it felt like a lifetime before I felt his tongue brush against my pussy, my lungs filling with bated breath, before his tongue skipped and danced along my growing clit. His tongue flirted with it, running quickly along it like a small motor before slowing down and circling around like it was doing laps.
His finger slowly slid inside me, my back arching just slightly, before he slid it out and put two inside me, my pussy stretching to accommodate his fingers.
“Fuck,” I said softly, with an exhaled breath.
I heard him gently laugh, his fingers slowly riding in and out of me, his tongue still playing with my clit like it was a toy. I squeezed my tits, pulling my nipples out, before letting them snap back as I pushed my palms against the bed and grabbed the comforter, squeezing and twisting it tightly between my quivering hands.
Before I could take any more, he stopped, as if knowing I was reaching my peak, and he got on top of me, pulling off the blindfold. I opened my eyes, squinting them as I adjusted to the dim light that now felt blinding.
“Why did you stop?” I asked.
“I want you to see my dick being pushed inside you,” he said as he ripped open a gold condom wrapper and slid it down his dick.
It was big, maybe seven and a half to eight inches, and had a girth that I knew would prove challenging. He didn’t smile, didn’t frown, and kept a straight face, the kind that was incredibly mysterious and sexy, the kind that made you need to know what he was thinking about.
He squirted some lube into his hand and stroked his cock as he looked at me, then wiped his hand off on a small, white towel and walked towards me, my pussy still getting hit with the cool air as I looked down at him. I wasn’t experienced in any sense of the word, but I knew I was about to get a crash course.