The Spur Ch. 01

"He told us not to trespass on private property any more, writing in his little notebook the whole time and not looking at us. I was grateful for that. It could have been a lot worse."

"When was this?"

"In college."

"That's pretty sophisticated rigging for a college dude."

"I think his frat had low-key workshops or master classes or something."

"I can't think of any way that could go horribly wrong."

"Ya think?"

"I'll bet you are indelibly etched on that cop's brain."

"That's my ambition. Mental bondage pin-up girl to the law enforcement community."

"It's good to have goals. Open."

This time I bit down on something rich, smoky, crispy around the edges and tender in the middle.

"Wow," I said with my mouth full. "This is incredible! What is it?"

"Eggplant, sliced paper thin and fried in olive oil and garlic."

"That is so good! And I don't even like eggplant."

"Me neither, usually. Next question."

"Shoot."

"The first time someone dominated you sexually, who initiated it--you or your partner?"

"Oh, my God, I did! I practically had to beg him to tie me up, and after that he was all weird. That relationship didn't last long."

"Ever been with a woman?"

"Once."

"Who was she?"

"A high-school friend of my college roommate, visiting over January term."

"How was it?"

"It was amazing!"

"Knew what women liked, huh?"

"Yuh-huh!"

"Did she tie you up?"

"No, but she blindfolded me. It was incredibly hot."

"Did your roommate know about this?"

"God, no!"

"Are you turned on right now?" he asked. I only hesitated for a second.

"Yes."

"Well, this is fascinating," he said. "I could do this for hours. However, it's almost eight o'clock, so I'm going to untie you now."

"What happens at eight o'clock?"

"You'll see. Concentrate." He talked me through the untying, then told me I could open my eyes. Handing me my fork, he said, "You're on your own now, Grasshopper."

I pounced on the food--which, now that I could see it, was even more appetizing.

"When did you learn to speak Turkish?" I asked.

"I haven't, really. I could find my way around Istanbul on public transportation when I visited, but that's about it. But I speak food in several languages."

"You like to cook?"

"I do!"

While I was trying to decide whether or not to tell him how sexy a man who cooks was, a blast of Middle Eastern music filled the room, a rush of excitement blew through the hall like a sudden breeze, and into the empty area in the middle of the dining room floated a tall, willowy belly dancer, with huge dark eyes and a cataract of wavy dark hair that fell to her low-slung, sequined belt. Her graceful arms pulled a transparent veil through the air, round and round her body like a gossamer satellite, while her hips rose, dropped, and tilted in time to the pulsating rhythm. She wafted closer and closer to our table, until suddenly she flung the veil around Steve's neck, winking at him as she shimmied away. He kissed his fingertips to her, and she sailed back to the center of the room and into her next number.

When she had finished her set, she came over to our table to retrieve her veil, addressing Steve by name. After they had chatted a bit, she asked in a deep, throaty voice,

"So this is your lady friend? She's pretty! Introduce us."

"Jamila," he answered, "I'd like you to meet Jill; Jill, this is Jamila." The dancer shook my hand, saying,

"He has no manners, but he's a decent guy. Make him cook for you," she said, winking at me with one of those beautiful, exotic dark eyes. The micro jewels on the tips of her false eyelashes sparkled like a splash of water over a dark pool. I thought about skinny dipping under a moonless sky.

"Oh, I definitely will!" I said, trying not to sound flustered and probably failing. "Your set was beautiful!"

"Thank you!" she said, laying her right hand on her heart with a slight bow. "It was lovely meeting you."

"Nice meeting you, too!" And she was gone.

"When did you first realize I was submissive?" I asked him as we walked, his hand warming my exposed back in the cooling summer evening.

"I began to suspect it pretty early on, but I wasn't sure until I asked if you wanted to have coffee."

"How did you know then?"

"I knew because you, one--dropped your eyes, two--turned your face a little away, three-- tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and four--answered, 'If you want.'"

"So I wasn't subtle?"

"Not to me!" he laughed, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me close to him--closer than my wrists were to my waist during dinner.

We walked in silence a while, and arrived at the door of his brownstone, which he unlocked and opened, stepping back to let me precede him in. In the tiny vestibule he unlocked a second door, which led directly into the living area of the apartment. I would eventually get around to wondering what it was like to be a man, perfectly comfortable in a first-floor apartment with a front door that practically opened onto the street. But right then, I was concentrating on not letting my increasingly ragged breathing show, and keeping the excited flush out of my face.

We walked to the couch, which was in the middle of the room, perpendicular to the street. When we reached the back of it, I turned and looked up at him, and he took my face in his hands and kissed me--a long, slow, confident kiss that said, "I've got you now, and we have all night together." My heart raced as his hands glided down my back to cup my ass and he pulled me firmly into him, so I could feel his erection. I slid my arms around his neck and returned his kiss, wanting to devour him, to take him into me and hold him there.

He untied the halter behind my neck and I stepped back, letting my dress fall to the floor. He kissed my neck, my shoulders, my breasts, my belly, falling to his knees and gripping my hips, his thumbs pushing into the sensitive places between the pelvis and vulva as his tongue ran over the skin between my navel and the waistband of my knickers. He breathed on my mound through the knickers, then, gripping my hips more tightly, kissed it until I whimpered.

He stood up and drew me back into him and we kissed again, and I dug my fingers into his hair as he ran his hands up my sides. He squeezed my shoulders, breaking the kiss, and held me at arm's length. He untied his necktie and pulled it free, and I tried not to look too eager as he turned me around and bent me over the back of the couch.

He slowly ran his hands from my shoulders down my arms to my wrists, which he pulled together with the palms of my hands facing each other, and tied them. Waves of heat washed over me as I felt the silk tighten around my wrists. He stood me up and wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, running his hands over my belly in slow, sensuous circles before gripping my hips again and pulling me into him once more. My bound hands sought his belt buckle, and he removed his belt, buckling it tightly around my upper arms and under my breasts.

He picked me up in his arms, bride-over-the-threshold style. Unable to hold on to his neck, I lay my cheek against his chest as he carried me to the bedroom, where he laid me gently on my back on the bed. He took off my sandals, then, beginning at the instep of my right foot, he slowly kissed his way up my calf and along the inside of my

thigh, lingering within inches of where I wanted him, his warm breath cool on my pooling wetness. Running his hands up the outside of my legs, he slid them into my underwear and, holding them like a cat's cradle, pulled them slowly off. He left another trail of kisses, up my left leg this time, as I moved my hips in slow circles, like a prayer wheel of wanting.

I gasped when I felt the flick of his tongue; he flicked it again, and again, and each time I gulped in air and held my breath. He pressed his tongue onto my clitoris, pushing down hard on it as I released the captured air in a long half-sigh, half-moan while every synapse in my body sang. His tongue began to glide in slow circles, as I gripped the bedspread in my hands and fought against the belt pinning my arms, desperate to pull him to me but only able to await his mercy.

After quickly undressing and putting on a condom, he lay down on his back and pulled me on top of him, pushing me upright with his hands on my breasts. I tried to lower myself onto him, but his legs were bent so that his thighs held me off. Seeing his sadistic little smile, I rocked my hips and struggled against my bonds, trying to reach him, but his legs were in the way.

"You are so mean!", I said, and he laughed and pulled me into his arms, his legs still bent, and kissed me.

"Please don't tease me any more," I whispered into his ear. "Please don't make me wait!"

He pushed me back up, this time with his hands on my belly. He slowly let his thighs move away from my back, and I slid down his legs until I felt him enter me. I shuddered all over and I think I cried out, I'm not sure, and he was moving slowly, slowly, pushing deep into me and withdrawing almost completely, pulsing, pausing, and pushing in again, and I was there, the country where all is forgotten, when he suddenly lifted his hips until I was completely off the bed, all my weight between my legs and in his hands on my belly, and then I know I cried out, and trembled, and we released into each other and for a moment that was brief but infinite, like the reflections in two facing mirrors, nothing else existed.

"How did that dancer know I was your 'lady friend?'" I asked, curled up on my side with my back pressed against him and his arms around me, spooning.

"Can you reach my pants on the floor?"

"I think so," I said.

"My phone is in the pocket--hand it to me."

I found the phone and gave it to him; he opened it, found the text he was sending while I was getting dressed, and handed it back to me.

STEVE: Bringing some 1 potentially special 2 nite. Be my wingman?

JAMILA: U O me

STEVE: Yours to command

I put his phone on the nightstand.

"OK, Mister, I'm going to cross-examine you now! I have lots of questions!" Expecting some Y-chromosomy pushback, but hearing none, I looked over my shoulder at him.

He was asleep.

STEVE'S JOURNAL

That weird-ass thing happened at the gym again today. My right foot cramped up on the treadmill--toes curling up like my foot was making a fist. So random.