Chapter 6: Dashing Derek
Bunny met Dashing Derek in a hotel bar. He was tall and dark and amazingly handsome, soft spoken and polite, but you could tell just by looking at him that he had a mean-streak. Bunny was intrigued.
- Actually, she was drunk and bored to tears. Greg's Gym was on a bullshit weekend team-building seminar at the hotel, and she found it absolutely excruciating. See, Bunny loved her part-time job; the only thing she couldn't stand was her co-workers. Who the fuck were these people? Greg, her boss, was a cowardly weasel; Martin the yoga-instructor gave her the creeps; the fitness-people were fucking air-heads; Harry the PT was just a tool and a half; and finally you had Belinda the accountant, who was OK, meaning nice but only marginally more interesting than a blank piece of cardboard. The team-building exercises were just awful, but then she actually had to spend the evening with them to boot. She spent the entire five-course meal asking for more wine and contemplating shoving her fork up her boss's ass.
"Team-build this, fucker!"
Greg had graciously seated her next to Harry, who still harbored a healthy dose of resentment towards her from the time one of her elaborate practical jokes almost landed him in jail.
Everybody else found it funny, what's his problem?
Greg probably figured since they were both hired to do the same job, they probably had a lot to talk about. The opposite was closer to the truth. They were both doing the same job, hence they competed for the same customers. They were both hugely competitive, and none of them believed in fair play. All they had to say to each other boiled down to variations on the theme 'fuck you'.
All this may have played into her finding Dashing Derek so darn dashing over by the bar, but he was a handsome man. He was there on business, too. Said he worked for a major TV-network. Bunny said she hated TV. So did he.
"Hey, you know what would make a great show?" Bunny said. "Someone who exposed and ridiculed phony team-building coaches. Team-building nightmares."
Dashing Derek shrugged.
"I don't make shows. I axe them."
"You're mean."
"Guess so."
"Wanna go upstairs?"
"Sure."
They went to Dashing Derek's room on the fourth floor. Bunny leaned in to kiss him once inside, but he backed off.
"I wanna show you something first."
He pulled out his suitcase and opened it. Inside was a fucking treasure-chest for the wicked: Hand-cuffs, chains, whips, butt-plugs, gag-balls, you name it.
Bunny sighed.
"Uh. Do we have to? Can't we just fuck?"
Dashing Derek didn't reply. He took out a pair of cuffs and walked over to Bunny. He locked it around her wrist, put her hands behind her back, and locked the other one as well.
"It'll just take a second. It'll be worth it. Promise," he said.
Bunny didn't mind. It'd been a while since she'd been tied up.
Dashing Derek went back to the suitcase and returned with a pitch-black silk scarf. He tied it around her head so she could no longer see.
