She contemplated snubbing her cigarette and going back inside, to her own birthday party. And that thought was tinged with sadness. "Ok. I've never been spanked before."
He laughed again in his interesting, sexy laugh. "Really. You should give it a try. One less thing to regret not doing next year."
She finished her smoke and turned to go back inside. "Well, it's been an interesting chat."
"Wait," he said, fumbling in his pocket. He pulled out a business card and handed it to her. "I enjoyed it. Give me a call sometime. Maybe we can both cross something off our lists."
Hours and quite a few drinks later, she sat in her car, waiting for it to heat up for the drive home. She pulled the card out of her coat pocket. She glanced at the dashboard clock. 2 AM. "The fear has gone," she whispered. She reached for her cell and punched in his number.
She closed her eyes and waited for him to pick up and when he did, answering with a groggy 'hello', she took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.
"I do want it. I want to be spanked."
*
He thought about the girl the rest of the night. Woman, he corrected himself. She was all woman. Her cute spikey hair, her graceful movements, her smile. Her lips, the top one with the little ridge and the full lower one, made for kissing.
As he made himself his last martini for the night -- it was a martini night tonight, no good mixing gin with whiskey -- he thought about those lips wrapped around his dick, his hands gripping a handful of that spikey black hair as she looked up at him. Later her lips would be wrapped around a ball gag, the straps pulled tightly, puffing her cheeks, allowing her to only make moans as he played with her, teased her, pleasured her, hurt her.
He wondered what was under that coat of hers, wondered whether her nipples were little buttons or fleshy buds and he wondered what it would be like to nibble them, lick them, bite them, then clip them with clamps and twist, making her back arch. He wondered whether he would find her wet from the things he did to her, what she tasted like, whether he could make her beg him to come just by teasing her little clit. He wondered what it would feel like inside her, laying atop her, not thrusting in and out -- rutting, he called it -- but just laying with her, his dick buried deep in her sweet warmth, claiming her, as he looked into her eyes and saw her surrender to him.
He took a sip of his martini and fired up an old Insex video on his laptop, one of his favorites, the one where the girl is unloaded from the truck she's been captured in, then clothes cut off and tied, she's teased and played with, her tears mixing with the betrayal of her body as she submits to the pain and pleasure her captor inflicts on her. But it's the woman's face from the bar that he sees as he closes his eyes and shoots his load into the hand towel.
As he crawled into bed and turned out the light, satisfied, he wondered if he would ever see her again. His last thought, as he drifted off to sleep, was what it would feel like to just hold her, falling asleep in her arms, his collar around her neck.
His cellphone woke him some time later. He didn't recognize the number but the clock on the screen said it was two in the morning. He was about to mute the ring and just go back to sleep when something made him pause. Then he answered.
"Hello?"
There was a long pause on the other end. Then, her voice. "I do want it. I want to be spanked."
