She Crawls

THE INTERVIEW

"Is what I hear about you true?" The question came poised with a suggestive lilt in the voice, the tip of her tongue nervously exploring suddenly dry lips. Alex knew exactly what she was referring to, but years of paranoia forced him to skirt the issue. Better safe than sorry.

"It depends. What do you hear about me?" The first step in the game was being played, although the woman seated across from him didn't realize it. Getting a woman to admit, out loud, that she might be interested in his services represented a big step. And it was, he admitted, a bit of fun to watch them squirm as they struggled to politely articulate their desires, without seeming too interested.

The woman shifted in her seat, her fingers absently tapping on the sweat-soaked cocktail glass that sat between them. He watched as the beginning of a blush colored the tips of her ears, at the same time shading her delicate neck. It would be fun exploring this one, turning her. He loved all women, of all shapes and sizes. He was proud that he'd never rejected a woman in need based on her looks; everyone deserved a chance to grow. But at the same time, he didn't deny his own desires, the need for a woman who fit certain characteristics, as dictated by his hormones, experience and imagination.

This woman, Melissa, more closely fit his ideal than any woman in a long time, save his wife. Fit and athletic, she measured about four inches shorter than his six feet. Nicely shaped, with smallish breasts, she had the larger butt that small-breasted women always seemed to possess. At least the ones that weren't bulimic or anorexic. Short blond hair nicely framed her classic face; the girl next door in her tomboy days. Her normally self-assured features now displayed embarrassment mixed with arousal. It was a look he knew very well.

"Is it true what Ann told me?" she tried again, hoping to shift the onus of conversation onto him. It was the play of a woman who likes to be in control, he decided. But the topic of conversation had placed her on uneven ground. He could rescue her, of course. Rescue and manipulate her. But he liked these first steps of the game too much. And toying with her now would only help her to appreciate what was to come. No! What might come, he admonished himself. Never assume you know where it's going to lead.

He threw her a little line. "Well, Ann introduced the two of us for a reason. What do you think it is?"

The question hung in the air for a moment, the pink on her ears darkening just a bit. "Well, Ann said you helped her out a while ago. Helped her...grow." He smiled, having anticipated this direction. For some, it was easier to talk of such things in the third person, to explore the subject before allowing it to become more personal. He felt faintly disappointed that they would follow this path, but experience taught him that the more in-control a woman acted, the less likely she could say "I need."

He nodded at her, his smile encouraging, as she continued, "She said that when some people need a little extra in their lives, you can provide it."

It was always tempting to go in for the kill here, to get right to the point. And the urge with this sexy woman manifested more strongly than usual. Instead, he tried a different tack. "It sounds as if you don't approve of Ann's decision."

"No, no, I didn't mean that at all," she exclaimed, her fear of being misunderstood brushing away the embarrassment of the subject. "I can see where some women might need that in their lives. Where some might have had a bad childhood, or whatever, and want more, um, structure. But as long as I've known her, Ann's always had it together. I mean, she and her husband have the perfect marriage."

She left it hanging there as a challenge. She's ready, Alex thought. Let's get her involved. "Let's talk about having the perfect marriage, and being the perfect Mom. Take yourself for example. How long have you been married?"

"About seven years," she replied, her hands back to toying with the glass.

Seven years, five months and fourteen days, Alex pulled from his vast internal file on this woman. "And your husband, he has a full-time career? And you have, what, two children?" She nodded. "And you work full time? Again she nodded. "So let's say, here you are, the modern American woman, you've got a full-time career with all these responsibilities, and you come home and you've got two children and a husband to take care of, and more responsibilities with the house. Are you with me so far? Have I exaggerated anything?"

She smiled, acknowledging in the set of her shoulders and the lifted chin that everything rang true.

"And so here you have to make dozens of decisions a day. The ones you make at work are dependent upon the reputation you've built up there, right? And the ones you make at home depend upon the trust you've built with your husband. His name is Jack, right?"

She nodded at him, this time a fleeting suspicion crossing her face before her mask of measured interest slipped back on. It's too late, thought Alex. You and I are heading to the same place.

"OK. So suppose, just suppose, that this woman wants to take a break from making decisions. A vacation's not going to do it, because there's all that planning, and everybody still relying on her. She could stay home, but there's the kids. She could head off with hubby, but he still needs some pampering. And besides, she really needs more than just a break from decisions. She needs to get out of that rut. She's in a rut everywhere. At work, at home, with her friends, even in the bedroom. Why, when she and her husband make love, they choose from five positions, tops. Or more accurately, he chooses. The few times she gets what she wants, it's packaged to feel like a gift, instead of something she deserves. With me so far?"

She leaned forward in her seat, her blouse opening so he can see the bra cups, if he was so inclined to look. Keep your eyes on her eyes, Alex told himself. Now's not the time to get caught up in lust. Never underestimate an intelligent woman. "So you're thinking, 'you know, if I could just get out of that rut in the bedroom, it'll help me get started on the rest. And it's just my husband I have to change.' But it's not that easy, is it? Because you've got this need not to be in charge conflicting with this need to initiate change, which would put you in charge. Right?

"Now, suppose that there is a way to not be in charge in the bedroom, but to still try new things. I think you know what it is. I think you and Ann have talked about it. I think you've been thinking about giving your husband total control, in a controlled situation."

He watched as she took a long, slow sip from her glass. This, finally, was what she had come to talk about. Though she tried to create an air of disinterest, he could see the interest in her eyes. Why do so many people try and deny their interest in discussing sex, he wondered for the millionth time.

"There's a problem with that plan, though." He watched as several emotions flew across her face. He saved her from further confusion, "Suppose you suggest that to your husband. From a guy's point of view, what is he going to think? One, what's wrong with the way things are right now? We're doing it twice a week. I make sure she has an orgasm every so often. What's to change? Two, sure, I'd like to be able to do the harem thing, order her to do everything I want. But what would she think of me afterward? Would she think I'm some sort of pig? And, of course, you'd share those same reservations. What will he think of me if I suggest that he, oh, spank me for instance, or force me to expose myself to another man?"

Alex paused for a sip of his drink, noticing the small bumps her hardened nipples made against her blouse. He was pleased to have gotten such a positive reaction to those two 'hypothetical' suggestions. It was important to determine a woman's desires early in the game.

"So we get down to the crux of it," he continued. "What if a woman could have a safe, short-term alternative to going to her husband and pleading for a change? What if there existed someone who could help her out of this rut, could direct her growth. Someone she could trust implicitly, because her friends trusted him. Would you be interested in meeting such a person?"

"You're married," she noted, nodding to his wedding ring. No, thought Alex, what you want to say is that you're married, and you want to know how you can rationalize cheating on your husband. He decided to inject some doubt into the conversation, to see what she would do. "Yes, I'm married. And, I'd like to take this moment to remind you of two things: so far, we've only talked in hypotheticals, and I never said I'd be this person you want to meet."

At this news she visibly sank in her chair, her mask of studied indifference falling away, hopefully never to be seen again. Finally I get to see the real Melissa, Alex thought, just a little turned on by the confusion in her eyes. With luck, I'll get to see more of that.

"I say that," he continued, "because there have been women who have tried to take advantage of this conversation, for the purpose of blackmail or some other kind of leverage. Not that I believe that to be the case right now. For instance, if you were a cop, there wouldn't be nearly enough evidence to convict. And if you do have blackmail in mind, you should know that my wife knows about everything, and allows it, because although she likes to experiment with alternatives, she knows my needs are a little stronger. So as far as my wife goes, she knows the truth."

Deftly, Alex switched from the hypothetical to reality, drawing her along with the current. "In terms of your husband, were you to pursue this, the choice would be entirely up to you. I have counseled couples together, but frankly, it doesn't sound like your husband would be interested. In fact, I make it a rule to only take couples where the husband approaches me first. That way, I know he's on line with this, and he won't come searching for me with a gun.

"Also, I have protections that would allow me to prove that anything that happens would be consensual. As to what most women tell their husbands, well, most decide that silence does the least harm, and makes it easiest to generate the most good. Again, the choice is up to you. I will say that if you decide to tell your husband, that you tell me in advance, because there's a certain form that I'd want him to sign."

He sat back as she took a moment to digest all this. He could tell she hadn't decided on the overall concept yet, but if she went with it, she wouldn't be telling her husband. Lack of communication kept him in business, but it was still a very sad state of affairs...so to speak.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her hardened nipples once again creating small nubs in her blouse. This time Alex allowed himself to appreciate her as a sexual being, pleased that she accepted his gaze without condemnation. "If I agree, what would be the next step?" she asked, straightening in her seat.

"Should you agree, the next step would be for you to buy me dinner, at which point we would work out all the details. But Melissa, before you make a decision, it's important for me to know that you understand what you're getting into. What exactly would happen between us?"

He marveled once more at how easy it was to go from the hypothetical to reality. How very, very, easy. She blushed full face this time. "We...we would, you know, have sex, and you would tell me what to do. And, I, I would try things I haven't, you know, tried with Jack."

He smiled reassuringly, glanced around to ensure their privacy, then looked intently into her face. "Sort of," he agreed. "More accurately, you would agree to be my sex slave, totally submissive to my wishes. For the entire five hours we're together each time, you will be totally under my control. You will dress as I tell you, undress as I tell you, speak as I tell you, do as I tell you, and be rewarded and punished at my whim." He warmed to his topic, pleased to see her face flush again, and not from embarrassment. "You will be expected to do everything I say, with enthusiasm, without question."

He leaned even closer. "If, for instance, I order you to play with yourself, you will. If, for instance, I order you to suck me off, you will. If I order you to show your tits to some teen in a party store, you will. If I feel you need a good spanking, you will immediately prepare yourself for it. If I want you to talk dirty, you will. If I want you to crawl naked through the mud, you will. If I order you to debase yourself, you will." He watched her carefully after each suggestion, noting her reactions for future reference. "You will do everything you're asked, trusting that I know your limits, and that I would never allow any harm to come to you. And because you're only doing as you're told, there's no judging or guilt involved. That's what you would be agreeing to."

She sucked the last of her drink from the glass as he got up to leave. "The choice is yours," he stated, leaving her to her thoughts with a warm smile. "The choice is yours."

To be continued in much more explicit detail...

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