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Her jaw drops as soon as I mention going to Japan. “What?! There’s no fucking way I’m going to Tokyo with you. Forcing me to go overseas with you is a felony!”
I can’t help but laugh at her naivete. “Yeah, I commit like five felonies per week without leaving my office. The law doesn’t scare me, at least not usually.”
She’s tearing up now, and I’m tempted to just leave her in the room by herself until she chooses to stop sulking.
“Listen, I know this is all extremely weird, but I promise we’ll do something nice in the city to try to make up for it, okay? Now can you please try on your goddamn clothes?”
She sniffles a little without responding at first, but then she looks up at me and nods.
“Okay, try on the black one first,” I say, leaning against the wall and crossing my arms.
“Wait, you’re going to stand there while I change?” she asks with a little more flirtation and curiosity than she intended. She must be so inexperienced with men to be acting this way, but I revel in it.
I smirk at her, tracking my gaze up and down her body slowly enough for her to feel it. “Don’t pretend it isn’t what you wanted.”
Her eyes grow big and needy suddenly, and I realize that she might be much easier to deal with if I just appeal to her submissive, feminine side. If she likes being barked at and told what to do, our arrangement will work much more smoothly.
When she starts to slip her clothes off without another word, I realize the true depth of her desire to be stared at.
She doesn’t want to be too obvious about it, of course. That would be unattractive to any man. Someone who is desperate for attention like that is a hard pass, at least to me. But the way she slowly glides her hands down her thighs as she pulls her shorts down is enough of a tease for me to start getting hard.
I know I won’t see as much as I want to, but in a way, that’s the allure of it all. I have a beautiful woman in my house who is stripping in front of me, for fucksake. There’s no possible way I could find something to complain about, though I haven’t felt this horny for someone in months, possibly years.
The last time I was able to tear the clothes off someone I desired like this was in my last relationship, and that connection has long since passed. All the pointless, hollow, casual sex I’ve had since then has been an attempt to fill a void. Nobody has even come close, and the more I look, the less hope I have that I’ll ever experience that kind of passion again.
Until now.
When she starts to work her sweatshirt off, I can feel my desire beginning to overpower me. She has a beautiful body, even better than I had seen in the dress she was wearing at the casino. Her curves are perfectly proportioned, and her breasts are perky without being too small. I’d walk right up to her and suck on them right now, but I still need to observe some semblance of decorum.
I’m almost disappointed when she begins to pull the dress over her head. When she works it over her body, she instantly looks like the kind of girl I would have chased at a nightclub when I was in my twenties. I can just picture it - watching her stumble in from a blizzard on New Year’s Eve with a group of her friends while I work on my fifth vodka soda.
I would be obsessed right away, trying to find my way over to her group without getting into a fight with someone. She would probably think I was a huge loser back then, especially given how much wealthier I am now. Even still, I’d want to do everything I could to steal her from her shitty boyfriend.
Of course, it’s all a fantasy. But I can dream.
With a little makeup and brushed hair, she would be an absolute bombshell. Bringing her to Tokyo might get me into trouble because of how much attention she’ll get. If anyone recognizes her from TV, I’ll be fucked.
Oh well. I guess I can’t do everything right.
“What do you think of it?” she asks, trying to suppress the excitement in her voice.
“It looks fucking great. It’s like it was made for you,” I reply, tempted again to approach her and stroke her body.
There’s a palpable silence for a moment as both of us know that she’ll have to take the dress off in order to continue trying clothes on. The anticipation of this game, watching her dress and undress, might be the biggest tease I’ve ever experienced.
Because, really, what’s stopping me from fucking her?
I have to focus on the mission, and fucking her would break the seal, so to speak. I’d be consumed with the memory, the imagery of her sweet face as she moans in ecstasy. There’s no way in hell I’ll be able to keep my attention on the issue at hand, and I’d hate myself if something were to go wrong because of my selfish negligence.
“Which one should I try next?” she asks, a cute smirky smile breaking on her face as she awaits my response.
All I can think about is reaching out and touching her, but I’ve already talked myself out of it enough times. I doubt she would actually be into it anyway – she’s probably just flirting for the sake of it. Maybe she’s even trying to appeal to me as her captor so she’ll get special privileges with me. Fuck. I didn’t even think about that.
I remember seeing another black dress in the pictures that my assistant sent to me, and picturing Faye wearing it turned me on like crazy. It has high slits on both sides with ties that can be adjusted to be longer or shorter. She could be as slutty as she wants in that dress, and I’d never stop her. If she tried, she could probably get whatever she wants from me if she keeps this up.
“Look in that bag. I’m pretty sure some of the really nice ones are from that store," I say, pointing to a blue paper bag. “At least in my opinion.”
Now I have an interesting opportunity to see what drives her decision. Does she want to impress me, or is she just playing along to receive attention and favors?
