This story was written for the
750 Word Project 2025
, below this line are exactly 750 words:
He was a nice guy who he a had a thing for being in control, which was perfect because I was a good girl who had a thing for being controlled.
For our first date, he took me to the Getty. Very civilized. Very intellectual. We wandered around the galleries chatting about art. I was dressed conservatively—ankle boots, black leggings and a baggy sweater—but there still was an undercurrent of sexual tension all afternoon.
We lingered before a Manet painting of a woman sitting nude on the grass with two fully-clothed men. Even though it was over 100 years old, it still had the power to scandalize. The woman in the painting was staring directly at the artist, boldly defiant in her nakedness.
“It’s an interesting juxtaposition,” my date commented. He was standing beside me, resting his strong hand against the small of my back.
Indeed it was, but not in the way he intended. He was referring to the juxtaposition of the male and female figures, but I was thinking of the juxtaposition of the woman in the painting with myself.
Later that evening I thought about that juxtaposition when I took off my clothes for him.
We were back at his apartment. There was no question at this point about whether I was going to sleep with him or not. I definitely was. The only thing we hadn’t determined yet was who would be on top—both literally and metaphorically.
He knew he had me really worked up—that I wanted it bad—so he was content just sit back and watch how things played out.
