He stood over her, offered her his hand. “Come with me,” he said. “Follow me.”
She took his hand, bigger than hers, stronger than hers, a bear paw cradling her small white hand. She followed him into house, into the living room. He pushed her lightly onto the sofa and then closed the curtains. Sunlight shone dimly through the curtains, but nobody could see in, and they could not see out. They were enclosed in this place, just the two of them. They were completely alone.
Then he walked back to her, reached down, and grabbed her under the armpits. He lifted her to her feet. She stood on the couch, and she was still only head level with him. She had not realized how tall he was until this moment. He truly was like a bear, all muscles and hair and bright hunter’s eyes. “I want to play a game,” he said, his hands on her breasts, under her dress, twisting her nipples lightly. “Will you play a game with me?”
She thought: this is for revenge. She thought: fuck, yes, I want to play a game.
“What kind of game?” she whispered.
“A role-play game,” he said.
“Like World of Warcraft?” she joked.
He laughed; almost instantly the laughter died. “No. You are a student. Let’s pretend that I am your teacher, okay?”
She was shocked at the response this triggered inside of her. A shiver moved down her spine to her ass cheeks, her ass cheeks tingling, her pussy tingling, everything tingling. She had never, in her life, done anything of this sort. Her sex had been the least kinky sex. It had not been bad sex. But it had not been kinky.
“Okay,” she said, her voice very soft.
“I have laid out clothes for you in my bedroom,” he said, and lifted her down from the couch, placed her on the floor. “Up the stairs, the first door on the right.”
“You’ve . . . what?” She giggled. “How did you know I’d say yes?”
He smiled a cocky smile: a smile that would have – and probably had – floored dozens of women. “I just knew,” he said. “Don’t take too long getting changed.”
She left him, walked up the stairs, and into his bedroom.
*****
Sure enough, he had laid out clothes for her: long black socks, a short skirt, a shirt, and a black tie. There was no underwear, and she decided to leave her underwear off. There was a full-length mirror in his bedroom. She stood in front of it, looking at herself, and had to admit she looked pretty hot. Her legs were slim and white and honed, and her breasts were small and pert. Her arms were strong.
She left the room and crept down the stairs. Adam was not in the living room. “Adam?” she hissed, thinking for a mad moment that she was on one of those hidden-camera shows, and any second now some reality-TV star would leap from behind the curtains.
“In here.” His voice came from down the hallway.
She followed it to an office, with a large desk, and two chairs. One chair was one the far side of the desk, and this was the chair in which Adam sat. The other, smaller chair was on her side of the desk. She assumed this was where he met with clients if he ever had to bring them home.
“You will call me sir,” he said, his face betraying no hint of amusement.
She would have laughed if somebody her own age had said that to her. I will not call you sir, she would have said. But she wasn’t laughing now. “Yes, sir,” she said, immediately sliding into her role. Suddenly this room was not Adam’s office. It was a teacher’s office, and she was the student. The role-play gripped her. She would win no Oscars, but it gripped her all the same.
“What do you call this?” he said, sliding a blank piece of paper across the table. “Do you call this an essay?” His voice was stony.
Katy gulped. He had struck the heart of something very important to her. He had struck the heart of her entire college life: striving to write good, persuasive essays which received high marks. The blank piece of paper was no longer a blank piece of paper. The imagination of the moment swept her up. The blank piece of paper became an essay she had written at the last minute, with little to no references, poor arguments, with an unfinished conclusion.
“I am sorry, sir,” she muttered, finding it difficult to look into his hard gaze.
“Sorry?” he said, and laughed. “Do you think sorry will cut it?”
“What else can I do, sir?” she said, her body prickling, buzzing.
“Do you want to pass this module?” he said calmly, in a commanding tone of voice.
“Yes,” she whimpered.
“You don’t want to fail, do you?”
“No.”
“Then stand up.”
She rose from the chair, stood in his gaze. He looked up and down her body, from her long-socked toes to her flushed red face. “I think you need to be punished,” he said.
She gulped again. Her mouth was dry as hell. Her body was hot as hell.
“Come. Here.”
She walked around the desk and stood beside him. “What are you going to do, sir?”
Her legs were shaking. She was completely in character. She knew that it was all an act, but she did not care. She believed that it was really happening and that was all that mattered.
“I am going to punish you,” he said.
He grabbed her, lifted her like she was weightless, and laid her across his knee. Her skirt rode up, baring her ass, her pussy. His hand moved up her thigh, starting at her socks and moving toward her ass cheeks. She bit her lip, shivering with the anticipation of it. Vengeance was cast from her mind. This wasn’t about vengeance anymore. This wasn’t even about being close to Adam. This was about bending over for her teacher.
“You deserve a spanking, don’t you?” he said, in that calm, level voice.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered. Her pussy was so, so wet. She couldn’t remember a time it had been so wet.
His hand left her—and then slapped her ass. She let out a whimper, of pain and pleasure mixed together. “You’re a bad, naughty slut, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
He spanked her again, this time harder, leaving a warm, stinging impression on her skin. “You’re a little whore, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
He spanked her again and again, over and over, her ass burning, and in the pain there was pleasure. She was surprised to find it there, but it was there. She had never thought that pain and pleasure could be so intimately connected, had never dreamed that pleasure could lurk in pain.
Words spilled from her as he spanked her, words she had never imagined herself saying. “I’m your slut, sir,” she moaned, and he hit her again. “I’m your whore, sir. I’m your dirty little whore.”
“Yes, you are,” he said. “I am glad that you know that.”
“I’m your bitch, sir.”
He spanked her.
“I’m your slut, sir,”
He spanked her.
“I’m your whore, sir.”
He spanked her.
“You don’t deserve a treat,” he said, and his hand moved from her ass cheek to her pussy, to her wet, soaking pussy. “But I’m in a good mood today.” He slid his finger inside of her. Heat exploded in her pussy, spread outward, like hot hands tearing through her body. He rubbed her sweet spot. She came, right then, a second after he’d slid his finger inside of her. It was the fastest she had ever come in her life. “Oh my god,” he whispered, as he slid another finger inside of her. “You’re such a sexy little whore.”
He rubbed her, over and over, wriggling his fingers inside of her. The orgasms came quick, violent, causing her whole body to lurch and writhe. She gripped the desk so she wouldn’t fall from his lap. His body jolted as he fucked her pussy with his fingers. She squirted all over his hand. She rarely squirted, but now she squirted again and again. Then he removed his fingers from her pussy and put them in her face.
“Suck,” he said.
Things that we would normally find disgusting, Katy learned in that moment, become hot as fuck when you’re horny. She took his fingers in h
er mouth, and sucked her come from them. He pushed them back to her throat. She choked, and a pulsing moved through her body.
“Do you want to pass this module?” he said.
She nodded, his fingers still in her mouth.
“Then you have to do something for me, okay?”
She nodded again.
“Stand up and bend over the desk.”
He lifted her, placed her on her feet. Her legs were unsteady from the orgasms, her knees trembling. She walked to the side of the desk and bent over, digging her fingernails into the wood. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him stand from his chair, and then she heard his belt unbuckle, and heard his pants drop to the floor. She gasped. His cock, huge, rock-hard, brushed her clit.
“Do you want this cock inside of you?” he said.
“Yes, sir,” she breathed, and she meant it. She had never wanted a cock inside of her so badly. Her mind was a cloud. All she wanted was pleasure.
He tickled her clit with the end of his cock, moving it up and down, teasing her. “Beg me to fuck you,” he said, “and then maybe you’ll pass this module.”
The words spilled out of her, unforced, sincere. “Please, please, sir, fuck me. I want you to fuck me. Please, sir, fuck me. I want to be fucked.”
His cock tickled her clit, and then moved to her hole.
She was so wet, he slid into her easily.
Heat erupted. Her world became pleasure.
*****
She fell forward on the desk as he came on her back. She could have slept right there, if it had not been for the warm come sliding into the small of her back. Her breath came quickly, frantically. She had never fucked like that before, had never known that you could fuck like that before. She grabbed a tissue from his desk and made to wipe herself. Adam took it from her hand and did it for her, and then threw the tissue in the small metal bin in the corner of the room.
She stood up and looked down at herself. This was vengeance, then. She had expected to feel vindicated, to feel superior, to feel right, but all she felt was weary, her eyes heavy, her body aching.
“I need to get changed,” she said, walking past Adam and up the stairs to his bedroom.
She changed back into her summer dress and found Adam in the living room. Freddy came into her mind like a flash of light. She saw his face and all the smiles and moments they’d shared like they were happening right now. There was nobody worse that she could have wanted, but she wanted him, right now. She felt dirty and tired. She wanted sleep.
“Can you take me home?” she said.
“Sure,” he said, with a smile, and she saw that he did not care if he never saw her again. She couldn’t blame him, of course. It wasn’t like they were going to get married. They’d had their experience. It was over. No doubt Adam would move onto another woman, move onto another experience. Now that it was done, now that he had given her everything he was capable of giving, she did not find him as appealing as she had only an hour ago. Maybe that made her shallow. Maybe that made her indecisive. If it did, it made him the same, too. She could see it, written plainly across his face. He no longer cared.
They didn’t talk as he drove her home. His charm was gone. His aura was gone. Perhaps she had imagined it all along. Perhaps he had never been some higher form of man. Perhaps her hunger for revenge, and her just plain hunger, had misled her. Pretty soon they were sitting in the car outside of the apartment. She looked across at him. He smiled back, but there was something different in the smile, a lacking. Or maybe it was something in her which was lacking.
“I’ll see you, then,” she said.
“See you.” He nodded. He was not a man who would ever stoop for a woman. She saw that, and she hated it.
She climbed from the car. He did not wait for her to open the door to her apartment building. He sped off, down the road, and out of her life.
She knew, then, that they were done with each other. She had no claim to him; she wanted no claim to him.
As she showered, she could not help but think of Freddy. He had betrayed her. He had hurt her. And yet she longed for him.
“Fuck,” she muttered, when she was out of the shower, sitting on the end of her bed, with her cellphone in her hand. “Fuck.”
He had called her a dozen more times, and sent her twenty more texts. It was the kind of thing Adam would never have done. He was too cool, too aloof. Maybe she did not want cool or aloof. Maybe she did not even want vengeance.
His most recent text was: Can we meet?
She sighed, and sent back: Fine. My place. Eight o’clock.
And then she lay back in bed, closed her eyes, and slept.
*****
She woke to her apartment buzzer. She bolted upright, wiped sleep from her eyes, and walked to the door. “Hello?” she said in the intercom.
“Hello,” Freddy said.
“I’ll buzz you up.”
What are you doing? He cheated on you! He hurt you! You should never see him again!
She knew this was true. She knew she was letting herself in for hurt, for pain, but the desire to see him was too strong. Freddy was normally the person she talked to when she was this angry, this confused; it was just a shame she was angry and confused about him. She sat on the couch, facing away from the door, and did not turn when he entered. He shuffled into the room and around the couch, into her vision, and sat down next to her.
She didn’t say a word. If this was a duel, she wouldn’t offer the first word. She wouldn’t fire the first shot. Her body was aching from her time with Adam. God, had all of this happened in only a few days? It felt like weeks. It was crazy how the steady flow of life could be broken up like this. Moments passed, and he still did not say anything.
Finally, he said: “I’m so, so sorry.”
Anger flared in her chest. “Sorry?” she snapped, turning on him. “Sorry? What do you mean, you’re sorry? You broke my fucking heart!” She hated the tears in her eyes, hated the quivering of her lips. “Sorry won’t make this better!”
He shrunk back from her. “I was drunk, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. Do you think I want her, over you? Do you think I want to be with her? Do you think any part of me wants her over you?” There was pleading in his voice, desperation in his voice. She felt for him. That was the worst part; she felt goddam sorry for him.
“You shouldn’t have kissed her back, then!” Katy hissed. “I saw her kiss you, fine, but why the hell did you kiss her back?”
He studied his feet.
“Don’t look at the floor! Look at me!”
She hated her tone of voice: that bossy, demanding tone of voice she’d heard Mom use so often in her childhood. But Mom had flipped out about nothing and everything. If a towel had been left on the wrong railing, she would flip out. If Dad was five minutes late, she would flip out. But Katy had a reason, and she suppressed the traitor guilt that rose up in her mind. This was not a time to feel guilty. She had nothing to feel guilty about.
Slowly, he raised his gaze. Tears stood in the corners of her eyes. She had to push away the urge to reach out and wipe the tears away, as she would have done without question only a few days ago. This man had hurt her, but seeing him in pain did not bring her any pleasure. She supposed that was how it was, with love. You can hate the person you love and love them no less because of it. But she didn’t reach out, because crying wouldn’t magically make all of this better.
She hardened her face, and stared levelly at him. “What do you have to say for yourself?” she said, her voice icy. “You can’t just sit there crying. What good is that? What will that achieve?”
“I . . .” He sniffled. He sounded young and lost and afraid and every instinct in Katy willed her to hold him, to comfort him. Only when the image of him and Stacey together resurfaced in her mind did she push those instincts. Her instincts had led her to some strange places these past few days. It was time to use her head, not her heart.
“You . . . what?”
“I made a mistake.” He threw his face into his hands, sobs escaping him. It was strange to see Freddy, a bodybuilder with a huge, muscular body, cry. It was like if Hulk suddenly stopped tearing apart a city to start crying. There was something pitiful in it. She had never seen him cry before. “I don’t want her.” His voice was muffled by his hands, by his tears, but she could make out the words. “I don’t want anybody but you. You have to believe me. Please. I never want to be with anybody else again. I promise you I don’t. I was drunk, and I fucked up, and it will never happen again.”
He removed his hands from his face, wiped the tears away. Katy could see he was fighting off more tears, a fresh flood. She wished she could simply wrap her arms around him, accept his apology, but betrayal is not as easily soothed as that. But, God, how she wanted to! It took all her effort to remain where she was, cold-faced, staring at him without pity. He did not deserve her pity.
He stared at her, his lips quivering. “Katy?” he said. He reached out and took her hand. She did not stop him, but when he wrapped his hand around hers, she did not hold his back. She left her hand, limp, in his grip. It occurred to her that this was the hand that hours ago had been gripping Adam’s desk, and she wondered how things had become so fucked up so fast.
“I really am sorry,” he said. “More sorry than I’ve ever been. I wish I could take it all back. Really, I do. But I can’t, can I? It’s done, and I can’t undo it. All I can do now is try and make it up to you. All I can do now is say I’m sorry, and pray that you forgive me.”
The words should have had no effect on her. Cheaters didn’t get second chances. But they struck home, in her chest. A pang moved through her body. She wanted to grip his hand in return, to feel close to him again, to forgive him. But her mind was a whirlwind of emotion and betrayal and she felt as though she was in a fog, grasping, stumbling, finding nothing but more confusion.
“I need to think about it,” she said, and took her hand from him. “I can’t . . .” She realized tears had started in her eyes. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. Freddy made to touch her face. She batted his hand away, jumped to her feet. “I can’t decide right this second!” she snapped, taking a step away from him.
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