I never talked to Danni about something like this, nor do I think she ever anticipated seeing this side of me. All I know is that I was extremely nervous; an excited, hopeful nervous.
"What about me?" My words were tinged with both doubt and a begging validation.
Danni sipped her diet cola through a straw and looked up at me suspiciously. I did my best to read her mind, but to no avail.
"You? What about
you
, John?"
"I could do it," I blurted in response. My mind was racing.
Oh, please, make this happen.
Danni and I had been work friends for about five years. We got along from the moment we met. However, our friendship had only existed inside the office; we never socialized outside the confines of our employer. One day, Danni left our company to join a different law firm. At 36, she was a few years younger than me, and while I was willing to ride out the rest of my career here, she still had a wealth of ambition.
Once she left the firm, we made it a point to get together for drinks. We had become too good of work friends to let our amiable relationship suddenly dissolve. When we met, there was a new looseness to us both; the shackles of the job were no longer there, and our conversations became more personal. As we dug deeper into each other's past - including old relationships and loves - we became better friends.
I did learn she was in and out of a rocky relationship with some guy - who even lived with her for a while - but the way she painted it, it was just a matter of time before it was over. I would tease her about it; the shit-or-get-off-the-pot challenge. Of course, she would find something equally unflattering about me.
One night over drinks, she persuaded me to tell a story of how I slept with one of our co-workers when we were both at the same firm. It was with a woman she despised; and for the first time, I thought I saw jealousy. Danni was sincerely disappointed in me.
"I can't believe you slept with Marla! She's a snake. What were you thinking?"
"I guess I wasn't thinking," I admitted.
"I have suddenly lost respect for you, John," she said dramatically. "You'll screw anything."
"I have needs," I laughed, making a sad attempt at humor.
"Needs, yeah," Danni responded, staring into her drink on the bar and shaking her head. "I oughta spank your fool ass."
I stayed silent and let that comment float in my brain, picturing myself bare ass over her knee.
The more we got together, the more I was drawn to Danni. In fact, I was actually a little frightened of her; the way she talked down about her boyfriend (or ex-boyfriend, depending on the day), and her unwavering confidence. Maybe it was arrogance. Knowing her as an attorney, she always had this commanding personality that took over the room. Even though I was a good foot taller than her, she made me feel smaller.
My growing crush on her was tempered and kept in check; I didn't want to admit this attraction to myself because she seemed so dominant. As much as I was in awe of her, I was also skittish of how subservient she made me feel. I am sure it was unintentional on her part, but it was still churning within me.
Hence, over time, she evolved into my private fantasies. The idea of a strong, controlling woman dominating me - a common theme among many men - was often in my mind as I lay in bed at night, stroking myself. I saw myself at her beck and call; serving her while totally naked.
The whole idea of being a naked servant for Danni - or any woman, really - was always just a dream. A unfulfilled fantasy living only in my head. There was never any genuine opportunity for me to put this into reality.
"I oughta spank your fool ass."
Sigh. Magical, teasing words; just casually tossed into my lap.
So now here we sat, over lunch at our regular catch-ups, and the favor I was offering her was sending my heart rate spiraling.
I could do it.
As a side thing - mainly for fun, although Danni did like the extra money as she was on a mission to retire early - she sold Lindy Cosmetics. She was a Lindy Girl; those women who held Lindy Cosmetic "parties" in which they would invite over friends, present products, make sales, and keep a percentage for themselves. She had been doing this for almost ten years.
Apparently, she knew a fellow Lindy Girl who discovered she could apply her same talents to Freya Love, which held adult toy parties in the same vein. Obviously, much more risquΓ© than cosmetics, but the sales concept was the same.
Now, I was a bit surprised at first, and I peppered her with questions. Basically, I was just gathering ammunition for my own fantasies, picturing Danni in black leather; having me tied and compliant. But what she said next started to give my fantasy some hope.
Danni had a brainstorm to increase her Freya Love party attendance. In this day of private on-line shopping and post-COVID hangovers, participation at her sales parties was steadily dropping. She liked the social aspect almost as much as the money, and she was reluctant to give in. So, as she usually does, she tried to adapt by changing.
"I want to have a man serving at the Freya party," she explained. "It's all women, so some beefcake to draw a crowd."
Picking at her garden salad, she continued. "And to make it interesting, every time I hit a certain dollar figure in sales, my server would remove a piece of clothing." She looked up from her salad to see my reaction.
"So the idea is the more the women spend, the more clothing comes off," I reiterated, seeking to understand. "Like, when you hit $100, off comes his shirt, $500 his pants, $1000 his everything?" I paused in thought. "I bet that could work," I offered with encouragement. I have to admit, I immediately felt a bit jealous.
"Something like that, yeah," she said matter-of-factly, nonplussed by my call-out to her stripping a guy nude at her party. "I'd have to work out the exact numbers, but that's the idea. Maybe not totally naked, though. But definitely down to a g-string."
I put down my iced tea. My mind was racing, thinking of some guy being stripped at an all-women's party. With Danni. I felt myself getting aroused just thinking about it.
"Would that be offensive to some women? I mean, would doing this have the opposite effect?" I asked.
Danni laughed. "Are you kidding me? You should hear these women talk! I keep serving them some cheap white wine on a Saturday afternoon, and let them see a male stripper, and they will go crazy! Besides," she added, "it
is
a sex toy party. It would be...appropriate," she smiled.
"So you'll be looking to find a male stripper? A professional?"
"That was my first thought, but they're going to be expensive. Plus I don't need the theatrics. I just need some eye candy." Looking down at her salad, she asked, "Know any sexy young hunks who would do this cheap?"
It was just an offhanded question, one I could ignore and let this all go away, or I could test myself. Holding steady, I answered, "How about a sexy
older
hunk?"
Danni continued to look down at her salad, poking at a questionable looking tomato slice.
"As long as they got the body, and they aren't some weirdo, and will do it for next to nothing...maybe."
"How about for free?"
There I said it. I am putting it out there. God help me.
Instantly, Danni stopped torturing her tomato. Without moving her head, she rolled her eyes up to meet mine.
It was at this moment that I offered myself up to be Danni's "entertainment." My claiming
I could do it
breathlessly hung in the air between us.
It took Danni a sizable moment to realize I wasn't joking, and then her response was a fit of laughter.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I replied sarcastically.
Danni just continued to roll with laughter. And here we were. My fantasy cat, so to speak, was out of the bag.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," said Danni, wiping away her tears with a napkin. "I just never thought...I just didn't think you'd be..." and she continued to laugh.
I rubbed my hands together anxiously; half-smiling, half-depressed at her reaction.