[Sometimes a masochist meets the perfect sadist. This story is about how these two found each other. Your comments and votes are encouraged.]
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She saw it coming. I was watching the people on the platform waiting for the train when I saw the man running. Twenty-five feet behind him a cop was running, trying to catch him. The man looked back at the cop and a woman on the platform stepped in front of him.
She did it on purpose! She didn't lift her arms, brace herself, or do anything to prepare for the collision except step in front of him.
His head turned forward just in time to see her but not soon enough to avoid her. They slammed together and both went to the pavement. The cop caught up, cuffed the man and then went to the woman.
"Lady, are you Ok?"
"Just give me a minute. I think I'm fine." She slowly sat up, not paying any attention to the fact that her skirt had uncovered almost all of her legs bare. The nylon on the right leg was torn at the knee and the knee was scraped. I had noticed that when she fell. She did not put her hands out to break the fall or protect herself. The man who ran into her did. His hands were scraped and bleeding.
I smiled. This was a woman I needed to meet. I got a paper towel or two from a vendor and wet one of them. I walked to her and knelt by her. She looked up at me and I said, "Nice landing."
"Ruined a stocking."
I wiped the scraped knee with the wet towel and she hardly winced. I applied pressure with the dry towel and she looked up at me, but said nothing. I held the towel on her knee.
"You were on your way home?"
"Eventually. I was going to stop at a market and maybe eat before I went home."
"Then, allow me to buy you dinner. Putting yourself in harms way deserves a reward."
She looked at my face and hesitated. She knew I knew she had done what she did on purpose. Finally, she smiled a little and said, "That would be nice, I think. Thank you."
I checked and it appeared the knee was through bleeding, for now. My hand reached for hers and I helped her stand. The cop came and took her information. I listened and it confirmed what I hoped was true. She was single, lived alone, and was thirty-three years old. The cop thanked her and walked back to his prisoner.
The woman next to me was named Michelle. We turned to step toward the incoming train and she winced. Her hands grabbed my arm and she leaned on me as we got on the train and found a place to sit. Even when we sat she didn't let go of my arm.
"Hurts a little, doesn't it?"
"Yes. But, not too bad."
We got off at my stop. I hadn't asked her which stop was hers. Going down the stairs to street level took a little time but I was in no hurry. I felt her press her breast against my arm as she held on to me. I glimpsed into the opening at the front of her dress and saw lace covering her breast. I smelled her hair and took inventory of the woman beside me. No rings. Dressed nicely, good quality clothes including expensive shoes. Modestly dressed with a hint of sexy. I thought, at first that the top button of her dress might have come up buttoned when they collided but I noticed the button hole wasn't open at all. She had never buttoned it. She wanted to show a little skin.
Less than a hundred yards from the bottom of the stairs we entered Rusty's, a neighborhood eatery. Eight tables and a six seat counter. It was after six so there were checkered tablecloths on the tables. Five of the tables were occupied. Rusty ushered us to an empty table and helped Michelle sit.
"Rusty, Michelle fell on the train platform. Could we have a napkin with some ice please?" He looked at her knee for just a second and disappeared into the back. He came back with crushed ice in a plastic bag and a large white napkin. I took them from him and applied them to her knee.
She looked at me and said, "Thank you, Sir." Her head turned to Rusty and she said, "I don't need to see a menu. I am hungry so just bring me something you think I'll like."
"You like shrimp?"
"Yes!"
"I'll take care of you. Mr. Peterson?"
"The same. Thank you, Rusty."
As he walked away Michelle said, "You don't need to do that. My knee will be fine."
I squeezed her knee and looked into her face. "I'm enjoying what I'm doing. I know the bleeding stopped. I know your knee is bruised and that the ice will get the bruise to the surface faster."
"Do you know me?"
"You told me a lot back on the platform."
"I haven't ever spoken to you before tonight."
"No. But you have tells."
"Tells?"
"Behaviors that signal the beliefs driving the behaviors. I saw some when I first saw you. They interest me. You interest me."
Our food came. A spinach pasta with lots of small shrimp in a tomato basil sauce. We ate. When the hunger had backed away a little she said, "Tell me about my tells, please."
"You wanted him to crash into you. You didn't do anything defensive. You didn't put your hands up as you fell. You didn't jump when I wiped your scrape."
"And, what do those tells tell you?"
"That you have discovered something about yourself that makes you different from the people you know and hang out with. They do their best to avoid pain. You like it. You stepped in front of him, not as a good citizen wanting to help the police, but hoping he might hurt you."
"That is crazy. No one would do that."
"Yes, you would. When we're finished eating we will walk to my home and I will teach you some things about yourself. I promise you will enjoy the evening."
"Why should I trust you?"
"Because there is the chance that I know who you are and that I like giving pain as much as you like receiving it."
Her attention went back to her dinner and she ate it all. After the last bite she swallowed the last of her wine and looked at me. She reached for her purse and I said, "No. Dinner is my treat. Dessert will be on you."
"Dessert?"
"Yes. You get to be my dessert." I left cash and waved at Rusty as we walked out. She held my arm as before. She was trembling a little as we walked. Less than a block later I turned us into a doorway into what looked like a warehouse building. I owned the building and worked in it as well as living on the second floor. We went up in the freight elevator and when it opened on the second floor her eyes went wide.
It was a huge open room and it was my home. Couches, tables, chairs, rugs, a big bed and along one wall a kitchen. Two other rooms were part of the floor. She could see the doors to both, but not what was in them. One was a very large bathroom and the other was my play room. It had walls a foot thick, soundproofed. A choir could scream inside that room and never be heard outside.
"Michelle, tell me about your schedule for tomorrow?"
"I plan to do laundry at some point and go to the market. I may clean my apartment."
"Not working?"
"No."
"Good, we don't need to rush."
I led her to the bathroom door. "Inside is the bathroom. On a hook on the back of this door is a robe. You will go inside, undress completely, put on the robe and come back to me."
"I will?"
