The afternoon passed more normally after my sojourn to the bathroom, but I still found myself slipping into reveries about him. I cut out of work about a half hour early, but did not feel like going home. I wandered through the boutiques of downtown aimlessly. I came to a store with corsets in the window. I stood idly for a minute,looking more at my reflection, then the dislpay, when one caught my eye, and pulled me to attention. It was emerald green brocade with cherubs woven into the fabric. I told myself it would be a silly expense, and then entered the store anyway.
I inquired with the salesgirl about it. Learning it was the last one they had convinced me I had to have it. She helped lace me into it, and when she was done, we both stared at my reflection in the mirror.
She said "You have to buy this thing. It was made for you."
And for once in my life I was convinced those words weren't uttered just to make a sale. The emerald perfectly complemented my ivory skin and auburn hair, it brought out the green in my eyes, and what it did to my figure was unreal. It pushed my breasts up provocatively, and shaped my stomach and hips into a perfect hourglass.
"Yeah...Yeah, I think you're right," I said not looking away from the mirror. "Can I get a pair of black stockings? I'll wear it out." When she returned to the dressing room with the stockings, I handed her my credit card, then set to getting dressed. I pulled my panties off, and stuck them in my mail bag. I pulled the stockings on, reveling in the sensuous feeling of the silky fabric sliding over my skin. I wished I had chosen a different shirt this morning, one that would show off the wonderful effect the corset had on my breasts, and briefly thought about buying one, but decided against it, realizing that whatever man I might take home tonight, would not satisfy me.
I stepped out of the dressing room, and signed for my purchase. Out on the sidewalk, I decided that I was hungry, but not ready to go home yet, so I headed to my favorite brew pub. Since it wasn't busy yet, I opted for a booth, rather than a bar stool, and slid in. The waitress dropped a menu at my table announcing she would be right back. I surveyed the selection, and ordered an Arrogant Bastard when she returned. I pulled out my book and pretended to read while I surveyed the bar. No one I knew. No one who caught my fancy. I turned my attention to the book in earnest.
Halfway through my pint, the waitress appeared again, I ordered a rare steak with fries, and another round. I turned back to my book. I had gotten about half a paragraph back into it, when an unfamiliar voice interrupted me "You are truly too gorgeous to be sitting alone on a Friday evening."
I looked up annoyed, and answered "And what makes you assume I am alone, and not plagued with a man guilty of chronic tardiness?"
I could tell he was searching for a snappy comeback, but his opportunity was cut off by a body slipping into the booth next to me announcing "Traffic was horrendous. What did you order me?" He snaked his arm around me in a possessive gesture and asked "Who's your friend?"
I frowned at the square jawed intruder, and replied "An Arrogant Bastard, and we were just exchanging playful banter; we had not reached the stage where we introduced ourselves."
"Well allow me the pleasure then." Smiling at man, "I'd like you to meet Lola. Lola, this is..." he trailed off, gesturing towards the stranger to get him to supply his name.
"James. My name is James." He said.
"Lola, this is James," he smiled at me, flashing his dimples. Then he turned his attention back to James and announced "James, I'm sure Lola would have been delighted to let you buy her several pint's and dinner, but her plans have changed. She will no longer need your cock tonight." James looked shocked for a moment, and then wandered back to the bar.
He claimed my second pint wbefore it hit the table, and beamed at me for a moment, before swiping a fry off my plate as the waitress set it it in front of me. I looked at him. "What are you doing here Dominick?"
"Me?" he shrugged innocently "I'm just running wild in Hell."
"Nicky, no one runs wild in Hell." I deadpanned, rolling my eyes.
"No? Why not," He asked.
"Too many LA cops in Hell for anyone to be able to run wild," was my answer.
He laughed. "That is what I am doing here. Our playful banter."
"No really, Nicky. You were gone daddy, gone. I haven't spoken to you in six months. What's your deal?"
"I could feel you missing me, so I looked you up." He locked his gaze on me, and dropped his voice to whisper in my ear "You were missing me weren't you, slut." He ran his thumb teasingly along my jaw line and down my neck as he spoke.
I looked away, willing my body not to respond to his touch, but feeling it respond anyway. "What makes you think you get a second chance," I asked him. "No matter how much I miss you?"
"Because I want one," he stated matter-of-factly, sliding his hand up the inside of my thigh, and fingering the lace at the top of my stocking. "And because this is turning you on..." I reached down to remove his hand, but he claimed my hand, kissing each finger tip, and biting the heel of my palm, before moving my it to his crotch, finishing with "...as much as it is turning me on." I felt his cock begin to stiffen weighting his words.
Without looking away from me, he flagged the waitress down, handing her my untouched steak, "Pack this to go, please." Picking up on the vibes at the table, she took it without a word.
"What are you doing, Dominick?" I asked
"I am taking you home. Finish your beer. And since when do you call me Dominick?" He frowned, "You know better than that. I don't want to hear it again."
I sat brooding, reaching for my beer, I turned the glass in circles in front of me, but did not bring it to my lips.
"Drink it," he said, putting his down, and handing his credit card to the waitress who returned with my boxed dinner and the tab.
My emotions spun out of control, leaving me not knowing what else to do, I did as he said. I whispered "Yes sir," and drained the glass.
Outside the building, he pulled me to him, and kissed me. The enormity of what was happening hit me. I turned away from him as I said "Wait, I can't do this..."
I shivered as his hand caressed my back.
"I'm mad at you. Go away." I pouted at him.
"I know you are." He responded, leaning in and kissing the back of my neck just below the hair line. "But that doesn't mean you want me to stop."
"I want you to stop." I told him looking him in the eye, and meaning it.
"No you don't." He said and kissed me.
His kiss melted my resolve. I didn't want him to stop. I turned around and he pinned my shoulders to the wall.
"Tell me you love me." He demanded.
"NO." I asserted. "The last time I told you I loved you, you left me."
"Tell me you love me," he demanded again, pressing his body close to mine, kissing me harder. I returned it. The smell of him intoxicated me. The feel of his body against mine was electric. I let go of my good sense.
"I love you," I told him, dropping my eyes, not trusting myself to look at him.
"Look at me and say it," he said patiently.
I looked into his eyes, and felt mine fill with tears. "I love you...Sir," the last word caught in my throat.
"I love you, too." He brushed the tears off my cheeks, and kissed me tenderly, holding me near, he let me cry. "I am going to take you home."
Looking up at him I nodded numbly. Brushing the tears off my cheeks, I allowed him lead me to his car. He unlocked the passenger door. Opening it for me I got in without a word. Once we were on the road, of all the questions running through my head, I choose to ask, "Whose home? Yours or mine?"
He looked at me, quizzically.
I let out a dry laugh, "Yours is trashed isn't it?"
He smiled and nodded, as I knew he would.
"Mine's not," I noted, smiling back at him.
"Your home," he responded
That seemed to settle everything between us. I turned my face to the window to contemplate my reflection, while Bowie sang "Ch-ch-ch-changes," in the background.
At my front door, I fumbled with my keys, as much from nervousness as from the distraction of his hand running under my sweater. His hand hesitated an imperceptibly brief moment when he discovered I was wearing the corset, but continued traveling across my stomach to my breasts.
We stepped inside the inner hallway of my apartment, and I began climbing the stairs to my door. I'd reached the first landing when he told me to stop. I turned around and looked at him, puzzled.
"Take your sweater off."
I pulled it over my head, and it fell on the stairs.
"Now your skirt."
I glanced furtively at the downstairs neighbor's door, but complied, letting it drop at my feet.
"Look at you," he growled surveying me, in my corset and stockings, with no panties. "You were going to take that loser at the bar home with you tonight, weren't you."
