Brand New Billy

"You figured that right out watching me?"

"Get dressed and go, Billy. Please get out and don't come back. Don't talk to Jesse anymore, don't come near us again."

I went into the house and locked the sliding door, shaking like a frightened dog. An uneasy stomach, a sea sickness feeling, stayed with me through the night and into the next day.

\ \ \

On Thursday evening I resumed the workshop. It went well and my spirits lifted afterward. Everyday since confronting Billy, I had had flashes of panic. Every day I compulsively relived the event by the pool, his erotic assertiveness, the weakness inside me, the struggle to overcome reckless temptation, my eyes fixed on his turgid stick. Every day since, I fought and surrendered to the craving to rub it out.

Billy appeared at the sliding door late in the afternoon that weekend, with his swim bag in hand. My heart sped when he knocked. I spoke to him through the glass panel, unwilling to open it.

"You're not welcome here, Billy. I thought you understood. You cannot use the pool."

He looked contrite, diffident. "Can we talk, Ms. V?"

"I don't think we can."

"I want to apologize," he said. "Please, just let me apologize, and then I'll go."

It went back and forth, back and forth, until I relented and let him in.

He stammered and said, "When we played cat's cradle that night, and I caught your finger in a ring, you felt something, I could tell."

"I will not discuss that."

"But I'm right, right? Only it's not like you want do anything bad. You're just curious. You want to learn something about it, right?"

"No, not . . . I was startled and . . . You . . ."

"Ms. V, I'm really sorry."

"Okay. Accepted. Thank you. Now that you've said it, you should go."

I sat in one of the ladder back chairs at the table. As far as I was concerned, his visit was over. He was at the counter.

"First, tell me, am I right?"

A drawer rolled open.

"It's not appropriate to talk about with you. Close that and go."

"I kind of have an instinct about this sort of thing."

"Billy, you violated my hospitality and trust."

"If it excited you ... so what?"

The drawer closed. Billy came to the table, unwinding the rawhide bundle.

"I could show you one or two things, just how to make knots," he said. "Remember when I told you that you could control a person with just a little loop? I could show you that."

"No," I said. "I don't believe you can do it, and I don't care."

"Look," he said, quickly fastening a loop, the little noose he'd made the first time. "You know the secret?" He wiggled his thumbs."

"Do I have to call the police, Billy?"

"I'm not ashamed about it, Ms. V. Why are you?"

When I hesitated to answer he seated himself next to me. "Here," he said, raising a thumb. "Put it there, and I'll show you how it's done. You're doing it to me, so how can it hurt?"

"Then you'll go?"

"If that's what you say, then I'll go."

I slipped the noose over his thumb and tightened it awkwardly. He loosened it and handed it back and said, "Now go for speed." When I flubbed it, he said, "Try it like this," and in a blink he had my thumb. In a fluid movement he stood behind my chair and secured my hand about as high as my head to the ladder back.

"Hey, I said —"

As I reached to undo it, he noosed my second thumb with a loop he had ready in his pocket and secured it like the other, so that I sat with my arms positioned like a cactus.

"This is wicked wrong, Billy. It's wicked wrong, and you're scaring me," I said.

He dropped his bag, zipped it open and removed a length of soft rope.

"What did I tell you about controlling a person?" he said. "Once I do this . . ." — he wound the cord at my waist and fixed me in the chair — ". . . there's not too much you can do." He bound my wrists to the ladder back and then my ankles to the back legs. "You don't need to be scared, Mrs. B. I'm in love with you."

I was breathing heavily, my mouth so dry I couldn't speak. He turned the chair so he could face me squarely, then leaned close.

"I'm just gonna open your shirt."

"Billy, no!" I said. It sounded feeble even to me.

He pulled my shirt free of the cord around my waist, unbuttoned it, and showed the whole of my pale front.

"Okay, stop Billy. Stop right there, all right?"

"I'm gonna open your bra too," he said. "Lucky that it's fastened at the front, huh?"

"Wait!"

The cups fell apart as he unclasped them. Billy squat-sat in front of me, bringing himself eye level to my tits, to my pointed nipples.

"Billy ... this can't happen. It's dangerous," I said.

"For me or for you, Mrs. B?" He didn't lift his eyes.

"For both of us."

He shifted his weight and looked up.

"Your nipples are perfect," he said, "the most perfect ones I've ever seen. I like them stiff."

They were painfully erect. He reached out slowly to touch one, extending his pinky to brush only the very tip with his fingernail. The electric charge of that contact made me jump.

"Oh fuck," Billy said, grinning. "They're hot points too."

/ / /

Billy stood up and said, "Well I know just what I'm gonna do for you, Mrs. B."

He pulled coiled lengths of rope out of the bag.

He worked the first behind me, passing it three times between my back and the chair. The first coil he tightened just under my tits, the second two he tightened above, squeezing me almost flat above the nipples. The remaining length he knotted in back. It was just tight enough to constrict my breathing without shortening it.

"Feel all right, Mrs. B?" he asked.

"It doesn't feel anything like all right."

"One little adjustment," he said, as he repositioned the upper coils to catch my nipples between them.

"Nobody taught me this," he said. "I taught myself."

An exquisite, mild sensation from the chest ran through my arms and legs.

"I think I have a talent for it," he said. "Kinda runs in the family, you could say."

He took a moment more to micro-adjust the coils, to pull each nipple a little further through and to flick them for extra spark, then said, "What d'you think, Mrs. B?"

I had to stifle a scream, biting my lower lip.

"Man, you look so fucking hot."

He slid a shorter length of rope under my bottom and up between my thighs, see-sawing it back and forth lightly, lightly, until he found the spot, the groove, and worked my puss through my jeans. I think I growled. He breathed in my ear.

"You're all tied up and it makes you feel free."

"Oh, god, oh —"

The little bastard had thrown a switch. My current flowed. I was humping the little rope. It hadn't flowed in years. I was gone.

\ \ \

He played me to near peak, then withdrew the rope. Taking two steps back, he undid his zipper and belt, dropped his jeans and underwear and kicked them aside. His prick was rising.

"Billy, for god's sake, we can't," I said.

He fished the beaded cord from his knapsack and began to tie himself off. The color of his cock deepened, its veins filled. He took a step toward me. I couldn't help staring at it, that florid thing, hyper-swelling, coloring deep.

"Billy, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Something I've always wanted to."

"Billy, not while I'm - "

He took a step closer, his horn in my face.

"Know what I always wanted, Mrs. B?"

I shook my head no.

"A blowjob from you."

"From me? You've thought about me blowing you?"

"Even when I was a kid, I jacked off thinking about that."

He touched the engorged head to my cheek. It had heat. I felt ripples of disgust as he tapped it around my face.

I said, "Stop. I can't, I -"

He pressed it into my mouth. I had to work not to bite.

And then the feel of it brought a rush. It's heat. It's spongy stiffness. He pulled out and took my face in his hands.

"I think you're okay with me doing this," he said.

I shook my head no, then nodded yes. Keeping eye contact, he touched my nipples.

"You should say that you want me to do it," he said.

"It's already happened," I said. "Please, let's stop."

"We just started."

He stood up and went back to tapping my face, even my eyelids.

"Just be totally honest, Mrs. B, and say what we both want."

"Do it," I said.

He slapped me with his prick. Not hard. "Say it," he said.

"Fuck my mouth."

"Please?"

"Please, Billy. Fuck my mouth."

He pushed the plum head past my lips. My tongue rose to greet it. I tried to slow him down. No chance. He pumped, he poked wildly, fucking my cheeks, my throat, every part of my mouth. It was all I could do not to suffocate or drown in the drool. He started to make that hissing sound.

"Gonna come . . ." he said.

I panicked, tried to shake my head no. He held me by the hair.

"Ready? oh! . . . right in your . . . fuckin' — oh!"

The horn stopped thrusting. He shivered and swelled like a mollusk gone rigid. A tangy tart spray coated the back of my tongue, then I fought not to choke on the spurt that followed.

He pulled out as he came. Warm drops rained on me.

He watched me spit out his cum, watched it pour in one long gob from my mouth, and glide like a snail between my breasts to the rope binding them. He shook the last of his cum in glycerin beads on my thighs.

/ / /

Billy untied me. I was standing topless in my kitchen and asked him to get me a towel. He so thoughtfully brought a warm cloth with it.

"You son of a bitch," I said as I wiped myself down.

"You got that right. You were incredible, Mrs. B. I want to thank you."

"Thank me? You fucking shit."

"Hot, huh?"

"Not hot, no . . ."

"What, you're mad?"

"I feel all but raped."

"Fuck, like how?"

"Like I could've had a fuck of a lot more to say about it."

"Fuck, then it wouldn't've happened."

"I mean I could've —"

"It only happened because of the way it happened."

"I feel used. I feel dirty."

"That's what I mean."

"It was like you were jerking off, using me to jerk off."

"And you got off too. It's a win-win."

"Who do you think you are? You- You -"

His smile turned flat and mean.

"I'm the guy who just face-fucked Mrs. B, and came in her mouth."

"You shit," I said, "I will never -"

"You'll never what, Mrs. B?"

"Don't you — "

"You asked me to fuck your mouth."

"I was going to say —"

"Fuck, what, that you'll never do it again?"

"For starters —"

I was backing away. My intimidation aroused him. His cock bobbed, rising again.

"Billy, you are not — "

"You're fucking juiced now, ready for the second heat, right?"

His cock flipped to hard. A satyr's horn.

"No, not. Wrong — " I faltered.

He walked toward me. I backed farther.

"Billy, you've got what you wanted."

He laughed and spread his arms.

"Mrs. B?"

My legs struck the chair and I fell into the seat again as he closed in on me.

"I won't even have to tie you this time," he said.

My face burned.

With a parched voice I said, "You'd better start acting like a gentleman."

"Mrs. B," he said, positioning that livid thing for my lips again, "you are probably gonna suck this dick every Thursday night from now till the end of summer."

\ \ \

He'd gone too far and had to be answered.

I slapped his cock, as hard as I would slap his face. Smack! He folded in on himself, shuffled backward, crying out.

I sprang to the counter and grabbed a knife from the block. Once he recovered enough to hear me, I ordered him out and gone, never to come back.

"What if I tell Jesse, or my dad?" he said.

"Get out or I will stab your fucking balls off."

Billy undid his tourniquet, dressed, gathered his things and left. He could see by now that I was in enraged, and would've killed him, had he tried anything more.

/ / /

A note appeared in the mail two days later. A large envelope contained a written apology, a promise to never talk about what happened, a statement that he'd done worse and people had liked it, a farewell, as his father's business dealings had fallen and they would move again very soon.

It also contained Billy's idea of a present. A rawhide loop.

\ \ \

I was dialing my son. To my confusion, Danni Clay answered.

"What a surprise," she said.

"Danni?"

"I was just thinking of you — today in fact."

"How funny. I was thinking of you, but I -"

"It's as if we have antennae to pick up on each others thought waves. Miss me?"

"Yes."

"Ha. It's about time. What were you thinking?"

"Danni, I should tell you, I was thinking of you, but dialed your number by mistake."

"We're meant to talk."

"I think so too."

"What's up, sugar?"

I had trouble getting it out. "Jesse brought Billy Lyle over a few weeks ago."

"He's not little Billy anymore."

"No, he isn't."

"He's smart," she said, "or sly. He might pretend not to be, but he is."

"He fixed the lights in our pool."

"He ask to train?"

"That's why he fixed them, I'm sure. I said Tuesdays and Thursdays, when Jesse has choir and I do the workshop."

"He trained here too."

"He told me that. I was surprised."

Danni was silent. I listened to her breathing.

I said, "Has he behaved ... strangely?"

"Ha!"

"Danni?"

"Ha! Like tying his dick off when he does laps?"

"Oh, my god -"

"Like playing little games with ..."

"String."

"Or rawhide. Or ..."

"Danni?"

"Rope."

"Danni!" I said.

"What is it, sugar?

"I gave in. I let him do things to me."

"Did you?"

"I let him treat me like ..."

"You did the forbidden."

"Did he talk to you about me?"

"No. We don't talk. He doesn't come here anymore."

"I chased out him with a knife."

"You should've called sooner."

"Danni, did you ...?"

"I don't know what he did with you. I got reamed."

"I feel like such a stupid cunt."

"It's not so simple, is it?"

"I let him bully me, humiliate me."

"Only enough to get what you thought you needed."

"More, much more, believe me. Did you?"

"It's been too long since we've talked, darlin'. Why not come over for coffee? Now, if you want."

"That fucker."

"We played ourselves."

"Why ... why would either of us ever want that?"

"To know that somebody cares enough to go through the effort?"

"Do you think —"

"I think she's a part of it too, yeah."

"We let him have his revenge?"

"Like we're payin' our share, feelin' a little of her pain?"

"Danni, I got off on it at first. It was dicey, but I got off. Were you —?"

"Darlin', I got off so deep, I got off scary deep. I saw the abyss."

"Please, we have to talk."

"Come over."

"I've thought of you often, Dan. Not just the past week."

"Life draws people apart."

"And together."

"I'll make coffee." Before we said goodbye, Danni said, "I have to ask myself, would we be talking now, if we hadn't let this happen?"

Half an hour later, on my way to the car, I stopped in the darkened yard to look at the stars, the familiar formations of triangles and zagging lines. In my bag were some overnight things, just in case.

I drove trembling to Danni's. So much was possible.

End.