Page 33 of The Facilitator 1


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“Shall I take you home?” he asked. I’d been aware he had been staring at me the wholetime.

“I think that’s best. I think we’ve already crossed a boundary that we shouldn’thave.”

“You had no idea who I was, you did nothingwrong.”

“Did you know who Iwas?”

“Not at first, only when you told me about theconference.”

“Yet you still wantedto…”

“Yes,” he said, cutting off my sentence. “I’m not yourbossas you keep saying. I own the company you work in, that’s all. Rationaliseit.”

He stood and took out his wallet; he placed a few notes on the table and waited for me to join him. I followed him to thecar.

I wanted us to hit every red light, to crawl in traffic, or be stationary at road works, but for the first time, the London streets we drove along were fairly quiet. We arrived back in Canary Wharf way quicker than I wanted. I’d told him I wanted to go home for one reason only; I was scared. Not of him, of my reaction tohim.

He pulled into the car park and into a parking bay. He switched off the car and turned slightly in his seat. I hadn’t spoken the wholejourney.

“Talk to me,” hewhispered.

I looked straightahead.

“I liked it when you held my arms above my head and I couldn’t move,” Ireplied.

“You liked beingrestrained?”

“Yes.”

“How did it make youfeel?”

“I…I couldn’t move, you could have done whatever youwanted.”

“And that turned you on? How would you take that to anotherlevel?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve read about it, in books, I like the thought ofit.”

He opened his car door and walked around to mine. The soft click of the lock disengaging echoed and I stepped out. He took hold of my hand and silently we walked to the lift. We hadn’t spoken a word as we travelled up to my floor, nor as we walked through the apartment door. It was only as we stood in the hallway did he speak, one word that had my skin prickling and my blood pumping around mybody.

“Bedroom?” hesaid.

I led him to the room I’d slept alone in for the past few months, to the room I’d shared with another man. I stood in the middle and facedhim.

“Naked,now.”

I undid the buttons of my shirt, slid it from my body. I popped the button on my jeans, lowered the zip and wriggled them down past my hips, kicking off my Converse as I did. I tried to sexily remove my socks, but that was beyond my capabilities, and I found myself hopping from one foot to theother.

I unclipped my bra, removed it, and then my panties. I stood before him completely naked, in the middle of the afternoon. I wanted to giggle; daytime sex wasn’t something I’d done for a longtime.

I watched him undo a few buttons of his white shirt then pull it over his head. He stepped towards me, unbuckling his belt as he did. I watched as he pulled it through the loops so tantalisinglyslow.

“Turn around,” hesaid.

When I did he took my wrists and bound them together. He picked me up and carried me to the bed, laying me down on my front. I twisted my head so my cheek was flat to the pillow. I felt the bed dip as he climbed on the end and then with his hands around my ankles he spread my legs. He’d hardly touched me, but I was ready to combust. I felt his tongue run along my calf, circle behind my knee, and slowly up my thigh. It crossed my backside and back down theother.

He shuffled further up the bed with his knees between my legs, keeping them apart. I felt his finger trail ever so gently down between my shoulder blades. Then across my backside, drawing circles on eachcheek.

“Do you like this?” heasked.

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