Better Off Dead

I saw him a few times over the next week, and he was right, we never spoke of it again. Every time we hung out with Raye and Derek, he kept things light, just the same as before. Only I'd find him watching me with that same heart-stopping look from time to time, but he never once asked if he would see me at the club.

By Friday I was a nervous wreck. I'd decided to go then changed my mind a dozen times, I'd also changed twice. Now, dressed in the pin-up couture dress Raye coerced me into buying last year, that still had the tags on when I pulled it out that afternoon, I stood for ten minutes just outside the front door of the club working up the nerve to walk inside.

When I finally stepped inside Sin City, I saw him. Eli must have been waiting because he met me at the door. His eyes were almost wild with delight as he crooked his finger to urge me closer then turned and led me through the crowd to the back 'private rooms'.

Part of me panicked and I thought about demanding that we not be alone together, but in the end my fear of putting on a show for strangers won out and I slipped inside after him. Once inside, Eli shut the door, drowning out the din of the crowd.

It was good we'd come in here, with my polka dot dress and his dress shirt and slacks we stuck out like sore thumbs in the whorish Hawaiian theme of the night. We stood there for a few minutes, I self consciously watched him, while Eli looked as though he might devour me at any moment. Then, finally, he moved to a table along one wall and rummaged around in a now familiar black bag.

"Why didn't you wear that dress to the party last week?" His question seemed innocuous, but it only made me more uncomfortable. How could I tell him I only had the courage to wear it to this place because I imagined the others looked much worse than I thought I did. For some reason here, with these people so bold and daring in their latex and fishnet, I had the courage to wear things I would never wear out with friends.

"It's not that kind of dress," I replied weakly.

"It's exactly that kind of dress," he corrected. "It might have been hard to dance in but it's definitely a party dress."

Eli pulled out the riding crop and my heart leapt in my chest. Tap-Tap-Tap. He leaned against the table to watch me, the riding crop gently tapping against his leg, he seemed to take extraordinary pleasure from my discomfort.

"Can we talk about something else?" I asked nervously. Turning away from him I wandered about the room pausing to look at the large wooden cross in the corner.

Tap-Tap-Tap.

There was a picture of a woman's silhouette as she knelt on the floor, her hands bound behind her back.

Tap-Tap-Tap.

Everywhere I went Eli followed a few steps behind, that crop Tap-Tap-Tapping against his leg. I couldn't escape him, or the reminder of what was to come.

"I think you should take off the dress," he said at last. I paused and turned, only to find him directly behind me. A small smile playing at his lips. "It's going to feel so much better without that dress in the way," he spoke with that same disarming calm that had gotten me in this mess in the first place.

Tap-Tap-Tap.

I contemplated my options, yes I could say no, but I wanted to feel the leather tip of the crop on my skin.

Tap-Tap-Tap.

Thankfully, underneath my dress was a pair of high waisted 1950's style panties and a boustier that covered most of what I needed to hide. With a sigh I reached back for the zipper and shimmied out of the dress. There was no reaction from Eli, save a momentary pause in the tapping of his crop.

As soon as the dress hit the floor my arms moved to cover my nakedness, but Eli stopped me.

"Go put your hands on the wall," his voice was deeper than before, this was no longer the calm and detached Eli. Gratefully I turned and placed my hands on the wall. "Now take a step back," he murmured. Tossing my dress back towards his bag, Eli reached out to guide my hips.

The position put my backside out at a very obvious angle, which I knew was the point. I felt his hands tighten briefly before he pulled away and paced behind me.

Tap-Tap-Tap.

My heart was pounding in my chest, I was ashamed to admit that I was soaking wet, my hips burned where his hands had been. Not even ten minutes in I was lost to him.

Tap-Tap-Tap.

"Do you remember the rules?" he asked in a voice that wreaked havoc on my nerves. This time I remembered his insistence on verbalization.

"Red is stop, yellow is softer, green is go," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

Tap-Tap-Tap.

He paused behind me and my body tensed when he reached for me. Those deadly fingers brushed my hair off my back and over my shoulder, leaving a trail of nerve endings quivering in their wake.

"Very good," he replied. I felt the crop slip between my thighs and shivered. He tapped it on either side of my inner thighs. "Open them," he ordered. Wordlessly I obeyed. "I've been looking forward to this," I heard him say as the crop came down sharply across my backside.

"Oh god," I gasped, leaning forward to rest my forehead on the wall. It felt better than I remembered, my body cried out for more. Eli's hand reached out to weave through my hair and he gently tugged my head back.

His lips found my ear and as I shuddered at the touch I also pulled back against his hand, silently urging him to pull harder, which he did. I smiled and let out a soft moan.

"God's not here with you Mariah," his voice was rough. The tap, tap, tapping of his crop resumed, only this time it was against my leg not his. "I don't want to hear his name when you call out, do you understand?"

My body was arched back in this wonderfully foreign way, I could feel the gentle slap of his crop on my thigh and his lips danced across my shoulder. I felt erotic and beautiful, sultry and desirable, there was nothing that I wouldn't have given him at that moment in time.

"Yes, Eli," I gasped. "I understand."

The crop came down again, this time with a little more force and I heard him murmur, "Good girl."

I lost count of the number of times I cried out his name. A few times I was pretty sure he was working to make me cry out. Eventually, when my knees were weak he stopped and had me drop my hands. I wanted to sit down, but I wasn't sure if that was possible right now. My back was on fire, my knees were weak, and there was a delicious, lust inducing fire from my shoulders down to the backs of my thighs. He'd left no spot unmarred.

Eli moved in behind me and ran his hands all over my back and ass. It was assertive, possessive even, like he had no doubt that I would let him, and that I would enjoy the feeling. Which I did, more than I wanted to admit. It worked to soothe the sting but left the ache and the burning desire behind.

I still had my back to him, which was probably why I found the courage to ask, "What do you get out of this?" His hands slid around my thighs and pulled me back against his groin. My hands found their way back to the wall and I pushed back against him a soft moan escaping my lips.

"I like hearing those sounds you make. The little gasps of pain, the moans you make when you want more. I like knowing those sounds are for me." His hands moved slowly, tracing a path down along my soaked panties. I gasped and he smiled. "I like finding new sounds."

His hand came to a stop just above my clit and he held me there, as I shamelessly ground against him, over and over, until I came in a quivering, shaking mess. He held me, his lips trailing across my shoulders in a line of gentle kisses, then rested his forehead on my shoulder.

It wasn't until I'd stopped shaking and of my own free will stepped away from him that Eli pulled away and moved back into the room. I stood there against the wall, fighting my fading desire and the urge to turn around and kiss him.

"Come here," Eli picked up my dress and helped me get into it, then smoothed my hair for me. I used a tissue to fix my make up as he packed up and when we turned to leave he smiled down at me and said, "Good as new."

"Thank you," my embarrassment was met with a warm smile and he leaned down and brushed his lips against mine for the first time.

"Any time," he told me in a voice uncomfortably sincere. "Come on, I'll take you home."