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“And then…?”
“And then I fled down the hallway to my room. I was embarrassed. I didn’t know what to do, so I went to my room. The next morning, when I went downstairs for breakfast, the man w
as gone. My girlfriend and I never spoke about it. Ever. It was just one of those things.”
“Do you still think about that night?”
Leticia nodded. “Every day,” she muttered wistfully.
She got up suddenly from the sofa, looking slightly shaky – almost as if she were appalled by the secret she had shared. “I need coffee,” she said. “Would you like one?”
I nodded. Leticia disappeared into the kitchen and I went to the living room window. There was a view of the inner city. I stood watching the headlights on the street below, and I brooded.
My instinct was something I had always trusted in my business dealings, and with women. And right now my intuition was warning me: there was an opportunity here. It was a predatory sense – the same sense of the hunter who stalks a vulnerable prey. I sensed that within Leticia was a woman crying out for an opportunity to explore her sexual fantasies that had been stifled by a stale relationship and small town claustrophobia for too many years. It would take only a nudge…
There had been a time when I had seized moments like this with bold ruthless confidence. But now, as I stared down at the city, I sensed my own hesitation, and with it, an unfamiliar conflict.
‘A fuck you knock back, is one you will never make up,’ a business associate once told me, and I had pretty much lived by that questionable motto throughout my adult life, spurning every opportunity to develop deeper relationships with women for the freedom to bed whoever I pleased.
Leticia came back into the living room carrying two mugs. She handed one to me and stood there, shifting her weight from foot to foot self-consciously for a moment. I could see the turmoil behind her eyes. She looked down at the floor, then back up into my face.
“I can imagine what you think of me,” Leticia began. “But I haven’t had the exotic lifestyle you have lived.” It sounded like a prepared speech she had rehearsed in the kitchen. “I’ve never been the kind of woman who would sleep around, but I would appreciate you not judging me as some frigid prude just because I don’t have a long list of sexual liaisons, just as I am not judging you for your own lifestyle choices.”
The speech delivered with suitable defiance, she took a quick tremulous breath, and brushed loose hair away from her eyes.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said.
We sipped our coffee in silence. Leticia fetched her notebook from the table and curled herself up in the corner of the sofa. She arched her eyebrows at me.
“Do ut des.” She got the pronunciation right this time. She was a quick learner.
I set the coffee mug down and my mind drifted back to that Sunday so many years before, when Claire had returned from the weekend in New York she had shared with her secret husband. I started to smile, remembering that night’s events with fond satisfaction.
“I photocopied the page from Claire’s diary and left it on her kitchen table for her to find,” I said, picking up the thread of the story again. “Below her handwritten note, I had scribbled my own message, demanding she meet me in the study at nine o’clock. I was there fifteen minutes early. Claire was already waiting for me.”
“Was she pissed?”
“She was furious,” I grinned. “There was a wicked, malicious glint in her eye. I stepped into the room and she was pacing the floor like a caged lioness. She had her arms folded across her chest as if she was trying to restrain herself, and there were livid spots of color on her cheeks. She was literally shaking with rage.
“I asked her how her husband was. She glared at me, and told me I had no right to go into the guesthouse. I took the little diary from my pocket and taunted her by waving it in her face. I told her that little book gave me the right to do whatever I wanted. It was like showing a red rag to a bull. She flew at me.”
“Attacked you?”
“Clawed at my face,” I said. “She was desperate. She couldn’t afford to lose her husband’s money, and I’m sure I wasn’t the only other man she had played her little games with. It was all falling down around her. Suddenly the boxing and martial arts lessons paid off. I caught her wrists and held them away from my eyes. We were pressed against each other. I could feel her heart racing like a trip-hammer. Her mouth was a red slash across her face. I tightened my grip – and suddenly something behind her eyes changed. I think that was the instant she realized I was a lot stronger than her. But it wasn’t only that. There was suddenly something else in her eyes. It was arousal. She let out a broken little gasp and her voice was strangely husky.
“I pushed her back until she was up against a desk. Her mouth fell open in surprise. Then I spun her round and pressed my hand into the middle of her back. She folded forward, bent over the desk, and started to thrash and squirm. I ignored her. I held her down with one hand and kicked her legs apart. Then I reached up beneath her skirt and rubbed her pussy. She was wet – her panties were soaking. She groaned, and then suddenly went into another spasm of thrashing and snarling. I tugged the lace aside and slid two of my fingers deep inside her pussy. She arched her back and let out a sob of desire.
“I told her to lay still. She grunted. I slid my fingers in and out of her pussy and she started to rock her hips. I felt her push down hard against my hand. She was trying to grind her clit against my palm. I eased my fingers from inside her and reached round. ‘Open your mouth!’ I told her. She did. I forced both fingers between her lips and she sucked her juice from them.”
I stopped talking. Leticia looked up at me. Her cheeks and neck were flushed with hectic color, and there was a trance-like look in her eyes. She looked away quickly and cleared her throat.
“How did it make you feel? Taking control like you did?”
“I loved it,” I said. “It felt ‘right’. It felt natural. I rubbed my cock against Claire’s pussy and then thrust myself all the way into her in a single stroke. She groaned and I felt her hips rock and sway to accommodate me. I kept my hand pressing down between her shoulder blades and started to fuck her. She lifted her hips, and began to push back against me. I slapped her bottom so hard it left a red handprint on the flesh, and Claire seemed to suddenly thrill beneath me. It was like some deep shudder rocked through her entire body. I slapped her again, just as hard, and then drove myself into her until I was ready to explode.
“Claire wriggled one of her hands between her legs and began to play with her clit. I felt her fingers brush against my shaft as I was sliding inside her. I seized her arm and pinned it behind her back. She moaned in frustration. I told her she wasn’t to come. She didn’t have my permission. She started to plead.”
I looked at Leticia. “That was the real power,” I said softly. “That was what turned me on, and catapulted me into the world of BDSM. I loved the way Claire pleaded and begged for her release. It wasn’t about physical domination for me. It still isn’t. It’s about that emotional transfer of power: the command and control. That’s what turns me on, Leticia. That’s what I find so addictive about being a Master. I love the power, given to me by the submissive. It’s symbolic of their trust. Claire showed me how intoxicating that feeling could be. After that night in the study, my life changed.”
I sighed. I was tired. I checked my watch. It was getting late. I massaged the back of my neck and felt myself deflate. I went to the dining table. I swept my jacket off the back of the chair and started to roll down the sleeves of my shirt. “I think we’ve covered enough for the night,” I said.
Leticia came off the sofa, then saw my expression and nodded reluctantly. “Okay,” she said. “I understand. When… when can I see you again?”
“We can continue tomorrow night, if you’re free. How about my place, after dinner?”
“Sounds good,” Leticia smiled brightly.
“Eight o’clock?”
“It’s a date,” she said.
* * *
I poured the glass half-full and swallowed it. Then I re-filled the tumbler and sank into the deep leather chair. This one I would sip slowly.
Let
icia watched me with cool expressionless eyes. I slipped the knot of my tie and leaned back until I was staring at the ceiling. The old leather creaked and groaned around me.
“This is my office,” I said. I took a sip from the glass and turned my head towards her. She was sitting across the desk, knees pressed together, hands folded in her lap, as though the setting intimidated her.
The walls were paneled with dark grained wood, the room lit by an oyster-shaped desk lamp and an old antique light fixture that hung from a chain in the ceiling. One wall was lined with shelves of leather-bound books, another wall hung with old artworks, their thick paint cracked with age, the frames heavy and ornate. There were intricate models of World War I fighter planes atop a long wooden shelf behind the desk, and on a lower shelf were dust-covered trophies and long-forgotten business awards.
It was a man’s room. It smelled of cigar smoke and brandy fumes.
“It’s… it’s very severe,” Leticia said politely, frowning as her eyes swept around the walls.
I nodded. “So was my father.”
“Your father?”
I nodded again. “A lot of the things in this room were his. They’re all I kept when I sold the old estate.”
She glanced around the walls again and tried to find some kind of new appreciation for the room. She couldn’t.
“Well… it’s nice that you have memories of him…” Leticia offered weakly.
‘They’re not memories, they’re reminders,” I said and sat upright in the chair. “I filled my office with these things of his as a permanent reminder of what a bastard he was – and to ensure I didn’t turn out to be the same kind of man.”
“Oh,” Leticia said. She was uncomfortable and lost for words for a moment.
And then she asked quietly, “Did you?”
“No… and yes,” I said. “I’m not the same bastard my old man was – I’m a different kind of bastard. For him, power came from wealth and influence over businesses and his rivals. For me, the power I sought was on a far more personal level.”
“Over women.”
