Needless to say, after my last encounter with Suki, I was quite shaken. I hadn't expected to ever have sex with a man again, let alone an anonymous old Asian man in an alley in broad daylight. The memory of it repulsed me, filled me with revulsion, especially since I remembered how eagerly I cooperated with Suki, and let her prostitute me. I was clearly deranged when I was in her company, and I decided it wasn't safe for me to ever see her again.
Nevertheless the thought of her haunted me, and what she had done to me had changed me. I started noticing men on the subway, old, twisted men with gnarled hands and pocked faces, and inevitably, despite myself, I would begin to think of what it would be like to have their cocks in my mouth, or in my pussy, and whether it would make Suki smile to see it. I would start getting wet at the sight of some hideous old man, and it would infuriate me, make me beside myself with frustration. I kept recalling the old man who fucked me in the alley, I saw his face in my mind, unwanted, when I masturbated, which, I confess, I did frequently, even more so since I had come to know Suki.
And every time I saw a slim, black-haired Asian on the train, my heart would begin to pound and I would think for an adrenalized moment that it was her. Sometimes it was any woman with short hair that would start me going. I thought about my fingers running through that short spiky hair while that beautiful little head was between my legs, licking me, caressing my clitoris with a moist tongue. I could feel my face burn; I would want to pant with desire, at these strangers, at these mere shadows of her. I could still smell her, that unmistakable musk that makes me salivate; I could still taste her sweat, pure ambrosia to me.
I tried to be good. I deleted Suki's number from my cell phone. I tried to pretend I'd never met her. I even tried to rekindle my relationship with Julia, one of my old girlfriends who I ran into by chance at a bar on Avenue C. Lithe, rail-thin, she sparked something in me. She had a flimsy T-shirt on with no bra on underneath, and even in the darkness I could see her nipples bud against the fabric. I bought her a bourbon and water, which I remembered was he favorite drink, and soon my hand was in her back pocket, caressing her ass, and soon her hand was up my skirt. "I never thought you were the skirt wearing type," she purred in my ear, stroking my pussy through my underwear.
Still, when she kissed me in the cab to her place, I was thinking of Suki. The whole time we made love, I was thinking of her, thinking of myself in the mirror in the outrageous outfit she made me wear, me with the dog collar around my neck, basically topless in the crowded market, me with that old man's cock in me while Suki just laughed at me. I squeezed my eyes shut as Julia ate me out. I wanted to be swept away, but ultimately I had to imagine a scenario where Suki was watching me sucking the penis of a giant Great Dane, like the one my Uncle Clete had when I was a girl, to finally come to orgasm.
So when Suki called me and left a message on my phone, I didn't wait long to call her back. And soon I was preparing myself in the mirror again, wearing a tight sweater to bulge out my breasts, and a short skirt and thigh-high stockings that emphasized my long legs, putting on slutty makeup and crimson lipstick, even a little gloss to make my lips shine. Soon I was making that long train trip out to her neighborhood, uncomfortable with the looks the Latino men were giving me on the train, like I was a nothing but a tramp, put on this earth for them to leer at. And soon I was threading through those same strange streets in her neighborhood to her apartment, teetering on the heels I wore, whose every clack on the pavement seemed to draw more attention to me.
When I arrived, I was overcome by her, finally present, in the flesh, in front of me for real after all those nights I had dreamt about her, touching myself. Her hair was a little longer than I remembered it, almost a bob now. She had on just a black bra and silk boxer shorts. I had forgotten how luminescent her golden brown skin was, how mesmerizing were her cool green eyes. I wanted to drop to my knees and lick her legs up and down. I could see the aureoles of her breasts through the black lace of the bra, chocolate halos I wanted so badly to kiss.
She had a new costume for me to put on. "I like what you're wearing" she said, running her hand casually over my chest, over the tight sweater, making my nipples spring out immediately, painfully, so badly did I wish she would linger on them, tease them some more. "But I have special costume for you."
She undressed me, rolling my stockings down my legs, and then my panties, rubbing her breasts against me as she did, driving me insane. I kept trying to touch her, to stroke her between her thighs or across her belly, but she eluded me. "No time for that," she said.
She had what was an extremely lewd schoolgirl outfit that she wanted me to wear. What made it so provocative was the pleated plaid skirt which barely reached my thighs, which were bare above the knee-length ribbed white wool stockings she put on me. It barely reached over my ass. And the translucent white blouse she buttoned across my chest was extremely form-fitting, it emphasized the size of my breasts, so much more ample than you'd ever see on a real schoolgirl. My breasts made a mockery of the whole pretense that I was a little girl, and that made all the more sexual -- much more so than if I would have been topless. And she had shiny black patent leather Mary Janes for me to wear, which she buckled on my feet.
Looking in the mirror at me, she smiled her strange cruel smile. "You look perfect," she squealed, as she pulled my hair into pigtails. "Perfect." I felt so strange looking at myself. I adjusted my glasses; suddenly they seemed so strange on my face. I tried a girlish pout, and it suited my get-up perfectly. Then I was ashamed of myself, pouting like that, the way all the girls in high school I hated used to simper at the boys. Here I was acting just like them at the first opportunity. I pulled on my pigtails and pouted some more. I bit my glossy red lip. I couldn't help myself. I had never looked so sexy as this when I actually was in school.
I turned around and looked over my shoulder at myself, saw just how much of my ass was exposed: I could basically see the pucker beneath both my cheeks, and the elastic rim of the stark white panties Suki made me put on. I continued to admire myself, my nipples growing harder and harder. Almost absently, I had begun to touch myself with slow lingering motions, rubbing underneath my heaving breasts though the blouse, and my thighs, above the tops of the wool stockings. I was getting myself all worked up, and I could see by the way Suki was staring at me that I was getting her worked up too. Or at least I hoped so.
She grabbed my wrists, and I thought she was going to guide my hands to her body and let them play, but instead she quickly bound them with coils of ribbon behind my back. "Be good, pretty American girl," she said. "Don't struggle. You like it anyway."