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I started scrolling through my contact list, then shut down my phone. I needed rest before my appointments with Gibraltar tomorrow, and my interviews with the NTSB fuckers. I stayed right where I was, in my favorite recliner, and closed my eyes to sleep.
When I woke again, it was dark, and my phone was ringing in my lap, flashing Ella’s name. I took the call, clearing my throat just before I answered.
“Hi. Everything okay?”
“It’s Ella,” she said.
“I know.” I cleared my throat again. “What time is it?”
“Just after nine. Did I wake you?”
“No. Yes. It’s okay.” I started getting hard, just from the sound of her voice. “How are things?” In my mind, I appended the wordsyou little maso, but I didn’t say them out loud. I didn’t know where we stood, friendship-wise. Kink-wise.
“I’m sorry I acted so bitchy earlier today. I felt kind of…overwhelmed.”
“Overwhelmed about what?”
“About everything that’s happened.” Her voice sounded high, a little pitchy. I wondered if she’d been crying, or if she was just tired.
“Ella, you know—”
“I have to tell you something. You really had an effect on me these last few days, and even though I keep saying things like ‘my work is important’ and ‘I don’t want a relationship,’ I feel like we have a relationship. I don’t know what type of relationship, but…I just felt bad that I was a bitch to you today. Most of the time I feel like a ten year old when it comes to interpersonal skills. So, you know, there’s that.”
I waited to see if she would say anything else, but she didn’t.
“Okay, there’s that,” I said, “and I feel the same way. It’s been a crazy week.”
“Yeah. And I was sitting here thinking that I kind of missed you, which is weird, but understandable, I guess.”
“You want me to come over? I’m not that far away.”
“Kind of,” she said, for the third time in our conversation, if anyone was counting. I was counting, for some reason.
“What does ‘kind of’ mean?” I stroked a hand over my cock. “Youkind ofwant me to come over. Youkind ofmiss me.”
“Maybe I’m kind of confused.”
Are you in bed? What are you wearing?She sounded sleepy and fuckable, even over the phone. “Maybe we’rekind ofattracted to each other,” I said, since one of us needed to state the obvious. “Maybe we shouldkind ofget together and fuck soon.”
“At The Gallery?”
“Yeah. There’s paperwork though, and you need a uniform.”
“Paperwork? A uniform? What kind of uniform?”
“A sexy uniform. Don’t worry, I’ll pay for it.”
“I have money,” she said in her petulant-genius voice.
“I’m sure you have money, but the sponsor traditionally pays for it. I’ll text the woman who does the fittings and ask if she can squeeze you in sometime next week.”Squeeze you insounded dirty to me, probably because my cock was hard, and starting to ache. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you when I get you to The Gallery?” I added. “I’m going to hurt you so badly that you hate me. Then I’m going to let my friends hurt you, and they’re not as nice as your Via Sofferenza people were.”
“Oh,” she said. I wondered if she was reaching between her legs.
“And I won’t blindfold you, because I want you to see the men who are hurting you for their amusement. I want you to see their eyes and hands, and their cocks.”
“Are you going to let them fuck me?”
I could tell from the way she asked that she wanted me to answeryes, and my dick wanted to answeryes, but my mind thoughtno. Hell no. No one fucks you but me.
