A Phone Call

She pressed the second quarter into the payphone slot, feeling the ridges of the coin slip away as the pad of her index finger lingered to touch that dark crease.

"Hello?" His voice was deep.

"Hi...Its Dana. I just arrived at your airport. I have a hotel reservation, but I am hoping I don't need it."

The pause was dreadful.

"You won't. I can't believe you are here."

"I'll explain when I see you."

"I'll be there in about half an hour. Meet me outside the doors of the last baggage carousel on the right, as you come off the down escalator. By the taxi stand." Checking her watch: 10 PM, then.

"I'm on my way."

"Okay. See you there. I'm wearing a pink jacket."

A pink jacket. A sheer white silk blouse. A black, high-waist skirt. Black stockings. Two-inch heel, open toe, strapped shoes that hugged her insteps and coiled around her ankles. Demure and professional: a style she'd cultivated to cloak a buttoned up sexuality belied only by two hidden facts. One, black-satin and lace lingerie. Two, its being half-cups and garter belt.

She got a pleasing number of second looks in the airport bookstore, thumbing a new-release novel and glancing nervously at her watch. She'd gathered her light bag from the carousel and retreated back up to the second level.

A half-hour passed, then a few minutes more. He would be waiting. She headed down toward the taxi stand.

He stood beside his car. Recognizably him-nature, being cruel and man adoring, had only made the years carve him into a more distinguished animal. Yes, character is revealed and not made. What had made him attractive ten years ago was clearer now. He saw her then and waved, his smile told her he was delighted at seeing her.

It was the handshake and hug of a dear friend. Her bags swept into the car's trunk, him closing the car door as she sat, and the car moving before her brain caught up with events. He stole glances at her as he drove them from the airport. She stared out the windows at the city.

Away from the press of the terminal, his hand closed over hers and he lifted her arm to brush her wrist with a kiss.

"This is a surprise."

"Well, I'm supposed to interview for a job in town in a couple of weeks. I'm not sure about it, though, and I thought maybe I'd just spend a day here to get a good feel of it before I make a decision."

"I see."

"Are you happy to see me?"

"Yes.... Need to go to your hotel?"

"Should I?"

"No."

They smiled at one another while waiting for the traffic light.

He carried her bag and steered her-"up those stairs...to the left...now right"-to his apartment. He hung his keys on a hook, faced her and placed his hands on her shoulders before pulling her to him in a long hug. He held back from a kiss, and instead looked intently into her eyes.

"I'm glad you are here."

"It was a mad decision. I just said 'what the hell' on Thursday morning and got a ticket. I leave late tomorrow night. I do have work to get done by Monday."

"I'm sure."

She walked around the place. She sat down in the office chair. A smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. He made his own seat in the recliner next to it.

"So, tell me about this interview...."

"Well, it is a research position. I'm really excited about the possibility, but I also have some doubts."

"Hmm."

"I feel like I'm getting mixed signals about it, and I'm not always sure what I think of it, either."

"Sounds normal."

"Well, yes.... Its one of those things you want to feel certain about first, though."

"I see." He took the crease of his trouser leg and slowly sharpened it between his thumb and forefinger. He looked up at her, and held her gaze with his until she found herself lowering her eyes to look down at her knees. Her left hand was absently playing with the collar of her blouse and the lapel of her jacket.

"It's a bit warm in here. Let me turn up the air conditioning." He stood and took the few steps to the thermostat. She stood up behind him, and removed her jacket. She was most aware of her silk blouse, and the electricity it caused in the tips of her breasts. She waited.

When he turned back, the corners of his mouth lifted and he took her in with an endless look.

"I have to go pick up some wine. You stay and freshen up. I wasn't expecting company-though delighted to have it-so I ask you to sort out for yourself where to put your things. I'll be away twenty minutes. Just let the machine pick up if there are any calls." With that, he was out the door.

Dana went into the bathroom. Done, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her nipples showed hard through her blouse, the black of the half-bra emphasizing her breasts still more. He'd left her with a decision. The way he looked at her was clear enough: he would take her...if she wanted. How she wanted.

Checking luggage for a day trip. It had been necessary. Her bag X-rayed anonymously was more bearable than the possibility of having to open that bag at the gate. One supposed that the security people saw everything in the course of their work, but she didn't want to encounter the look that might follow what they saw revealed.

She took several vibrators, a bottle of Astroglide, a box of condoms, and a hairbrush from her suitcase and placed them on his nightstand atop a face towel taken from the bathroom. How she wanted...she thought.

Then, she made for the kitchen to form her plans for how she'd answer her appetite in the morning. How she'd answer her appetite tonight was settled.

She was pulling down the wineglasses from their shelf to the sound of his keys in the lock. Working through the drawers by the sink, she found the corkscrew and held it up as greeting just as he closed the door behind him.

He removed his sports coat, unbuttoned his cuffs, and rolled his shirtsleeves before carrying the bottle to the counter. She put the corkscrew in his hand and then watched his fingers as he opened the wine.

He was deliberate in the way he poured the Merlot, but generous in the amount he gave to their glasses.

"We'll let it breathe a few minutes. Take a seat."

He made his way to the bathroom, but not before he stopped and surveyed all that she'd placed upon the nightstand. It took him longer in there than one normally expected. Dread crept into her stomach and curled up with claws out-had she made a mistake?

Finally, the door to the bathroom re-opened. He dried his hands with a bath towel and carried it into the room.

"Stand up."

He folded the towel and set it over the back of the office chair, then he picked up their wineglasses. Handing her the one in his right hand, he caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers and raised his glass.

"To friendship." He smiled.

She took two big mouthfuls of the wine and swallowed them quickly.

"Is this what you want?"

"Yes, it is."

"I'm not convinced."

She reddened. Another mouthful. Swallow.

"Sir, it is very much what I want. With all my heart."

"I see." His tone was colder...it thrilled her. "Set your glass down and stand over there." He pointed to the center of the room.

"Stand with your feet apart, and put your hands behind your head." He looked hard at her. "Point your elbows out more, I want to see you clearly."

"Yes, sir."

"You've been making a disappointing impression with me all night. You look terrific and your outfit is lovely, but your behavior...." He shook his head.

He was slowly walking around her, stopping now and again to look her over, making some small adjustment to her pose with his hands or even with his feet. All of it was making her increasingly aware of his physical presence, and she began to fill with a luxurious ache.

"Dropping into town unexpectedly, calling for a ride... and then making me wait for you to make your way out. I am certain that you must have already had your bag for at least ten minutes."

"Then, no sooner is the wine in your hand then I have the treat of watching you swig it like Gatorade. I'm surprised you didn't belch."

Her belly was creamy warmth from the navel down, and beads of perspiration began forming across her chest.

"Is it too cold in here for you now?" He pointedly stared at her chest for a moment before locking back onto her eyes with his.

She looked down. Her nipples were hard and obvious points through the silk of her blouse. Holding her hands behind her head and pointing her elbows out was causing her breasts to strain against the fabric. She shut her eyes and blushed deeply.

"Keep your eyes open." His face was close to hers, his nose touching next to her ears as he spoke. "What have you to say for yourself?"

"I'm sorry, sir. Please forgive me. I do want to make a good impression upon you. I don't know what I can do to make up for my behavior."

"I may." He sat down in the office chair, having first moved the towel onto the arm of the recliner.

"Turn around slowly for me. I want to get a good look at you in this light." She did as she was told.

"Now, fold your hands behind your back and stay still."

He picked up his wine and began to drink. He watched her. He sipped. He watched some more. Minutes passed. She grew increasingly annoyed. Finally, she stepped over to her own glass, drained it, and set it down with a defiant glare at him.

He was on his feet and ringing her wrists in a firm grip. With a deft hand to the base of her spine, he turned her and toppled her against him-pulling her over his knee as he sat once more. Her hands were pinned against the small of her back. She felt the fingers of his other hand caress the back of her calf and thigh. She grunted and struggled against his hold upon her wrists. "Let me go!"

"You are, darling, headstrong. Now, you've been particularly rude and nearly insulting. For all your intelligence and accomplishments, you've succeeded in being nothing more than a philistine spectacle.

"I can't imagine that finding yourself-as a grown woman-draped over a man's lap as if you were about to be spanked for being a naughty child makes you feel noble. Foolish seems more likely.

"You haven't followed the simplest of commands: 'stand there.' I know you can do that. I can only conclude that some more lasting impression than my words are working must be made.

"Do you want to be spanked?"

She closed her eyes. Burning with humiliation. Burning more so because of this embarrassing posture, and because his scolding words had her boiling with sexual heat. She felt his thighs pressing up against her, the weight of her breasts freed from their half-cups as her head nearly touched the floor, and couldn't help grinding her pelvis against his leg.

"Yes..." She burned, "Yes, sir: I want to be spanked."

"Do you, now?"

"I do...sir," was a quiet plea accompanied by a pleasurable shudder passing through her entire body.

He ran his free hand through her hair, and caressed her shoulder blades before fingering her spine down to the waistband of her skirt. She felt his cupped hand squeeze her buttocks through the fabric and glide along her thighs to the hem. His nails traced spirals on the insides of her knees.

"I'm going to spank you, Dana. I'm going to spank you for your bad manners this evening. You've accumulated more severe debts than this. Be sure that I will collect on them, with interest, before I put you back on your plane tomorrow."

He landed the blow to her right cheek and kept his palm and fingers pressed hard onto her buttock. Through her skirt, she felt the slap like a blossom of heat and electricity that sparked within her clit. He drummed out a steady rain of open-hand slaps against her rear.

She was writhing against his legs, the motion causing her breasts to sway. Her upending had pushed blood into her breasts and face. With her struggling and the heat of the spanking, she imagined all this fluid pressure was pent-up and waiting to pour from her sopping pussy.

He sensed that she was near-climax, and lifted her to her feet as he stood in a quick motion.

"Step away from me.... Good.... Now, look at me."

She slowly obeyed: turning and looking him in the face. She was on fire, her chest heaving, blouse damp, and the mixture of exhilaration, embarrassment, and lust in her eyes was met by an exhilarated, cool lust in his.

His hands beckoning hers to fall within them, she took three small steps that brought her face close to his. The kiss was a continuation of their movements. It lasted long moments.

His fingers touching her ear. Her neck. Cupping her chin. Forefinger making a smooth stroke down her throat and catching the button of her blouse. The hand inside the fabric, closing around her right breast caused her to press herself into him as she raised her right hand to his shirt collar.

Their kissing like this continued. More buttons undone. A moan slipping from her throat when his fingers deftly clamped upon her nipples.

He took a step back and pulled the sleeves of the blouse from her arms and freed it from the waistband of her skirt. Holding it gently to his face to inhale her fragrance, he then handed it to her and picked up his glass.

She stood before him.

The minutes passed, him looking at her intently, she beginning to hover at the edge of orgasm as the details of the moment doubled and doubled again in her mind.

He sensed it.

"Come for me."

She trembled. It was so close. It stayed just out of reach.

"Can I touch myself, sir?" The no was expressed in a movement of his head.

"I said, come."

She could not. She weakly shook her head, and tears came to her eyes with a strange sense of humiliation.

"Still being willful. Nothing for it, I suppose, but negative reinforcement. Turn around."

She did so.

"Feet apart." Her legs parted.

"Hands upon your knees."

She stood there, back arched and legs straight so that her bottom jutted upward as she balanced on her high heels. Looking back over her left shoulder, she saw him pick up her glass. He rested his right hand at the base of her spine as he brought the wine to her lips. She drank. A flick of his fingers undid her bra.

"Don't touch it."

Setting the glass down, he stood behind her.

"Look straight ahead."

She waited.

Lifting the hem of her skirt, he draped the fabric over her waistband and tucked a fold into the top of her garter belt. His forefinger ran along the lines of her panties. Beneath the garter straps stretched against the backs of her thighs. He walked in a wide circle around her. Briefly in the line of her sight, he stopped and looked, fascinated, into her eyes before moving on.

His fingers slipped into the waistband of her panties, and he began rolling them down over the bones of her hips. She stole a glance downward and saw the small pair of scissors flash in his hand. She heard him cut the fabric and the felt the waistband tight against her left thigh as he pulled the right leg of the panties away from her right. Their left leg was cut, too, and she watched the remains of the panties fall onto the floor between her shoes.

Her uterus pulsed, her clit was throbbing, and she felt warm trickles begin rolling down the insides of her thighs to be absorbed into the top bands of her stockings.

He seemed to loom behind her, just out of sight. Only his shoes peeked into the corner of her vision as she breathed slow, ragged breaths. His lips upon her shoulder. A kiss between her shoulder blades. A burst of starry pleasure inside her head as his hand cupped her naked mound. Tears in her eyes again as his finger pressed into the folds of her pussy.

He took her wetness on his fingertips and began to circle her anus. He dipped into her pussy again and again, making the crevice of her ass slick and wet between her cheeks. He pressed the tip of his middle finger against that ring of flesh. His other hand was firm and gentle as he gripped her shoulder. She willed herself to open to him. The finger slipped inside to the second joint. She moaned. "Ohhhh...sir."

His hand moved from her shoulder. As the hard smack landed on her bare bottom he thrust his finger inside her to the knuckle as his other fingers pressed against her pussy lips. He began moving his finger in and out of her. Withdrawing it completely, circling her wet and puckered back entrance as she found herself wiggling her ass in invitation. Each time he entered her again with his finger, he spanked her. Soon, she felt her wetness extending below her knees. He added a second finger inside her ass, and four hard smacks on both thighs.

"Arch your back more... darling. I'm so pleased with how you are responding. So wanton.... Do you like my fingers buried in your ass?"

"I do."

"What was that?" A particularly hard slap came down upon her ass cheeks, and then he took her right nipple between his fingers-pulling and twisting upon it until she gasped.

"I do, sir."

"Not good enough, Dana. Try again."

"I do...master."

He worked a third finger into her bottom as his right hand caressed her belly and moved between her thighs.

"You are not to come unless I give you permission. Is that clear?"

"Yes, master."

His finger sluiced between the lips of her pussy and she jumped when he touched her clit. Slowly, he made circles on her clit while working his fingers in and out of her ass in a slow fuck. She was trembling all over.

He shifted his stance, removing his hand from between her thighs.

"Move your hips in a circle for me."

"Sir, I don't understand."

Using his fingers pushed deep inside her anus, he guided her in making the motion he intended.

"Like this."

The humiliation scalded her. She was able to choke out a "yes, master" as a half-sob, while a gush of her fluids splashed on the floor and spattered her feet.

He thrust two of his fingers into her pussy, adding them to the fullness of the three in her backside.

"Oh, god...." She shifted the motion from a rotation of her hips to a thrusting backwards onto his hands. Overwhelmed by the sensations, she began coming. He worked a fourth finger into her ass and a third into her pussy, bringing her orgasm to completion: a ball of heat and light exploding outward from deep within her abdomen that caused her to whimper. She felt herself clutching and squeezing his fingers with her insides, so aware that she experienced this intimate touch almost as sight: the image of her ass and pussy plundered by his fingers pitching her orgasm upward so that she went completely limp.

He caught her, his right arm crushing her breasts against her ribs as she still held the four fingers of his left hand enveloped within her.

As she recovered and began to support her own weight, he removed his arm and wound her hair between the fingers of his right hand. Slowly, insistently, he drew her standing upright by the back of her head, and gently removed his left hand from between her buttocks. The bra fell from her wrists and covered her toes.

He left her staring at herself in the small mirror on the wall, and stepped into the bathroom to wash his hands. While the water ran, she looked into her own eyes and at the strands of her hair plastered to her forehead with perspiration. It occurred to her, then, that she had not had his permission to have an orgasm. She had not even asked. Her cheeks burned with shame.

The shame triggered an aftershock of pleasure in her clit, and this only deepened her shame still more.

This loop of sensations had her rocking her hips and feeling the ache of emptiness in both her pussy and her ass.

It was at that moment he emerged from the bathroom.

"What are you doing, Dana?

"I do believe you may, in fact, be a nymphomaniac. Do you have any idea how disappointed and displeased I am with you right now?"

"No, sir." She lowered her eyes and forced herself to stop moving, even as another gush spattered more of her juices between her stocking sheathed toes. Her pussy trembled. She was near another orgasm.