Tiffany's Deception Ch. 04

Brent motioned for me to lean forward. So I did and he leaned forward too. He kissed me gently on the lips. The kiss was soft and very passionate. I closed my eyes for a second. Brent turned his head. His tongue entered my mouth at around the same time I felt a tuck on my top. I opened my eyes. Brent had pulled down the neckline of my top. I gave him a halfhearted scoff and started to push my top back so it wasn't so open. But, Brent wagged his head and furrowed his brow as he said 'You leave that just the way it is. Just think of it as a little extra tip for..."

I dropped my hands onto the table just as our waiter came to take our order. His name was Donald and he was somewhere in his late twenties. He looked well educated and polished. The kind of guy who didn't mind that his present job wasn't anything because he had his eye set on something bigger. That bigger something was as real as the morning sun. He smiled at both of us, but addressed Brent first. After talking to Brent, Donald turned toward me. There was a palpable silence that grew and died when I looked up and saw him eyeing the top of my chest. His eyes came back up to mine. All of his worldliness and easy self-assurance melted away. He gulped.

Donald took a long breath, licked his lips several times then asked if he could take my drink order. I ordered a Bloody Mary. He smiled and promised to be right back. In no time we had our drinks. The man doted over us. It was obvious why he was so interested. Every chance he got he peered down my top. Because I was trying to be discreet, I hadn't checked my blouse. I must admit, I felt pretty uncomfortable. My tension softened, then melted away as Brent talked. Brent's voice was strong and unwavering. He sounded like a coach talking to one of the team. We ordered our food and Donald left with our order.

It wasn't until Donald was in the kitchen that I bowed my head. At just the right angle, my left nipple was fully visible. I heard Donald talking and looked up. He was seating a young couple in a table to my right. The man and woman were just beyond overweight. They were seated perpendicular to Brent and me. The doughy couple would have to go out of their way to look at Brent and me. Of course, Donald made sure that the fat woman was facing us. Her husband couldn't casually spy on us as we ate.

'Now I want you to do me a favor. Will you do me a favor?' Daniel asked in a low tone. He wasn't smiling. His eyes were locked onto mine. I couldn't look away so I held his gaze and nodded. I'm sure I was smiling.

Brent told me, 'Lean over and give me a kiss and then, go on into the bathroom. And... Make it so everyone'll want to look.' I know I was smiling when I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his dark full lips. Our mouths were open. My upper lip was poked by his whiskers that he hadn't shaved off this morning. I teased him with my tongue. I took in his breath and closed my eyes. I put a hand on the side of his head and drew him in closer. His hair was soft and wiry at the same time. I forgot our surroundings and the people around us. The kiss whet a hunger in me that made lean in closer and pull him to me. I was in a short clingy skirt, bent at the waist over a table with a fine white linen table cloth soul kissing my perfectly chiseled, black god.

Brent put a hand on my shoulder. He gently pushed me away. Our lips parted. His heat fled from my senses. The mist in my mind blew away. I looked up and immediately saw everything as it was when we first entered. Every table was filled and at every seat was an old white person eyeing my every move. 'But for the Grace of God go I' was what I'm sure they were all thinking. They all reeked of old wealth. They were snooty with their ideals of wealth rendering them myopic. They didn't see anyone who was not likewise rich. I was the anomaly they had to watch. They couldn't turn away. I was the experience that rocked their perfect world. They'd never seen anything like me in their exclusive clubs and segregated golf courses. And yet, they had to watch me. They were compelled just as everyone is compelled to gawk at the unfamiliar. They couldn't help themselves.

The gaze of every man, young or old, was pulled from their business partners, wives or girlfriends. I stood up straight and walked toward the back of the restaurant. With no bra and just a short clingy skirt, my assets jiggled and bounced with each step. I was embarrassed. My mother would have called me shameful. I was most certainly shameful. But I just kept walking. I had to fight the urge of taking small, petite steps with my arms crossed in front of me so, instead, I put my arms down my sides and I took normal strides. I walked in a straight unerring line to the place where the restrooms were hidden around the corner. I kept my clutch in my right hand. It was my anchor to reality. It was the one thing I've owned since high school. No matter what else; I kept the black clutch in sight. I know it sounds crazy but the little purse anchored me. It was a reminder that in some small way I was still the same person I was all those years ago.

The restroom was spacious with marble walls and granite countertops. There were lamps sitting on low set corbels. The stalls were floor to ceiling wood. The stall doors were higher quality than any door at my house. I did my business and before leaving touched up my makeup. I looked good. I looked like I just walked off the set of a hardcore rap video. I steeled my nerves, threw back my hair and threw the door wide so it hit the wall and announced my parade back to my table. Coming back, I wound my way through a different set of tables. There were two large round tables sitting next to each other. I squeezed through the space where two men had their backs to each other. The man in front of me scooted his chair in but the man to my back did not."

Daniel asked, "How close were the chairs? Did you just squeeze yourself between those two unthoughtful men?"

Tiffany sounded like she was smiling as she said, "I suppose I could have gone around. I was walking through the narrowest point between the two tables. At the table in front of me there was a big family, all adults. The other table had a bunch of guys on a business lunch. I said excuse me a couple of times then squeezed myself through. The guy behind me; one of the guys at the business lunch, got a nice feel of my ass. When I got a few steps away I dropped my clutch. You know how important that is to me. I kept my legs together as lowered myself to the floor without bending over... too far. When I reached out for my bag I heard someone whisper 'my lord.' So I stayed where I was for a moment and then stood back up.

Someone else whispered 'slut'. I'm sure it was one of the old ladies at the family reunion table. Old white women in expensive clothes always felt like they could use such language. The old prudes never knew how to enjoy sex. They hated me. They knew I was enjoying myself and they hated me for it. My presence was a hot needle in an angry boil.

I made sure no one saw me gaze over at Brent. It's better when people don't think their being watched. Brent had his hand over his mouth, but I could tell from his eyes that he was smiling from fingertip to wrist. Seeing him smile, I exaggerated my movements. My hips swayed a little more with each step. Each step took me closer to my black man. Each step brought the hem of that short clingy skirt up even farther. It was a good thing I got to our table with only twenty or so steps. If I'd have walked any farther I would have been wearing that skirt as a cloth belt right through that rich ass, fancy restaurant.

Donald forgot the other tables. Our food came in record time. He hovered over us, making sure we never needed anything. We were drinking champagne. Donald kept our glasses full. I don't think the owner would have gotten better service. Then when the food was eaten, I took Brent's hand in mine. I kissed his knuckles and turned his hand around and kissed his palm. I closed my eyes and put his index finger into my mouth to the first knuckle. I took it out and let it slide over my bottom lip and then kissed it. I then plunged it into my mouth and sucked on it. I worked it like it was a small penis. I know I must have sucked on his finger for at least a minute or so. Then I licked it and kissed his finger tip. I opened my eyes. Brent's eyes were slits and he was biting his lower lip. 'Are you hard', I asked him. Brent nodded. I quickly looked around the crowded room. It was scary. They were all looking at me. Yeah, I was scared but the situation was also funny and arousing all at the same time. All those rich white breads couldn't take their eyes off of me.

'I think it's time we left.' Brent said. His words were a sudden cold draft. I got goose bumps all over. I nodded to Brent. I wanted to go home. Brent motioned for the waiter and Donald took the proffered credit card. Donald held the door for us. We walked out of that restaurant arm in arm like we owned the place. Once we were out in the parking lot, Brent's hand fell to my bottom. Before I could stop him, he put his hand under the hem and grabbed my bare ass."

"Before you could stop him?" Daniel asked. Daniel's tone sounded more like an angry accusation than an easy question.

Tiffany was smooth as cream. She sounded like she knew she'd been caught. But, she also knew the true weight of her infraction. "Well, maybe not stop him, so much as divert him a little." She said.

"Oh, I see." Daniel said. He didn't sound convinced. His tone turned sharp. Acrid bile seeped into his voice. He said, "So, you only give yourself to the black man when no one is looking. Is that it? You didn't want those well-off, rich ass white people seeing a man, a black man, put his hand on you, did you? Was Donald a good looking man? Maybe you wanted him instead of Brent? Was your waiter a man you wanted? Or was it some other, maybe an older white gentleman you saw as you walked out? A guy who'd caught your eye and made you forget your place? That must have been it, you saw someone who made you forget your place in our little hierarchy."

Tiffany apologized. She then pleaded for forgiveness. Then she begged. Tiffany begged for Daniel's forgiveness. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." She said, with fear invading her voice. "I just didn't want trouble with the police. You know, all those white folks were looking at Brent and me. The old fuckers watched us leave. I'm sorry, but it was really just the wrong words. I wasn't trying to be uppity. I, I just didn't want the police to get involved. Neither one of us needed to be talking to a couple of white-boy cops who probably wouldn't have taken our hierarchy very well. You know the cops wouldn't have driven all the way out to the restaurant without doing something." Tiffany said in a timorous voice. I could imagine that she was naked. Her soft curves blotched red with her sudden anxiety. An expression of fear and longing in equal measure contorting her beautiful face.

Daniel was a stone. He asked "Bitch, what do you mean, without doing something." There was a sudden susurrus like blankets or clothes being moved about.

Tiffany's voice became shrill with her pitch climbing higher with each word. After trying to explain about the cops assuming the worst about black men, she finally just asked flatly, "What do you want me to do?"

"Get your ass over here, that's what I want you to do." Daniel said.

"Ok, sit on your lap?" Tiffany asked.

"Do I look like Santa Claus to you?" Daniel asked. He sounded like an angry shop teacher. There was a sudden clap. It sounded like a single hand clap or maybe Daniel slapping his bare leg. "No bitch. Bend over. Lay across my lap. You're paying for what you did." Daniel said. His voice was granite.

"What I did?" Tiffany asked. Her voice was brimming with disbelief. Tiffany continued with, "But, I just wanted to..." She stopped. I could hear her lips opening and closing on words that wouldn't come. I knew she was scared.

"You just what?" Daniel roared. He quickly followed with, "I'll tell you what. You just wanted Brent to keep his hands to himself. But, like you've already said, you were all over him. Damn, you just told me you sucked his finger like it was a cock. But, when he took your lead and tried to touch you. You stopped him. You put your hand in the way. You know what that makes you?" Daniel's voice dripped with contempt.

"I...I...I don't know" Tiffany said. She stuttered like a store clerk during a robbery.

"That makes you an Uppity Bitch. We can't have that. You're going to lose that attitude right now." Daniel said. He sounded like a man training his favorite hound.

Tiffany replied, "You're not going to spank me... Are you?"

"Sure looks that way don't it?" Daniel replied. There was a quiet grunt.

"Daniel, please don't do this. I won't do it again. I won't be uppity again. I promise, please, no one's ever spanked me; not even my parents." Tiffany said. Her voice was soft. Then there was a sharp slapping sound more pronounced than before. Tiffany yipped. She cried out for Daniel to stop. She sobbed and sniffled. Daniel didn't answer. Granite doesn't negotiate.

Tiffany's voice was devolving into wet sobs. "Daniel. Daniel. Please, don't..." Tiffany said. Her weeping was punctuated by harsh slaps followed by sudden high pitched squeals. The slapping always preceded the squeal. The microphone picked up more than the exhales and sudden inhalations of the beautiful red head. Between the squeals, I felt more than heard, her shame. She was stripped of her dignity. Each slap took her self-determination. She was reduced to an errant child. No, not a child. She was lower than a child. She was an incompetent servant. A servant who had forgotten her station. The concatenation of thunder claps from Daniel's hand on Tiffany's soft buttocks continued. I thought it would never end.

Slap, slap, slap. Tiffany's spanking continued for several minutes. The slaps were sharp and loud. I felt as if she was lying next to me, close enough for me to feel the breeze from Daniel's arm. Slap. Slap. Slap. As the time passed, the intervals between the strikes grew and another sound filled my speakers. It was the soft mewling sound of a soul riding between arousal and realization. I made a note to verify with Daniel but it did appear that our naked, redheaded executive enjoyed the shame of her private spanking. Slap. Slap. Slap. The strikes kept coming. Slap. Slap. Slap. Daniel admonished her to stay still. "You're soaking wet Tiff... Are you sure no one has ever spanked this beautiful ass before? Maybe you're remembering some old lover? Or are you just a slut who loves it a bit rough?" Daniel said, taunting her with his measured vulgarity. He continued to talk to her. He told her that her ass was beautiful. He said that it was a perfect, round, pink ass. "I may have to hit that ass again..."Daniel said. Tiffany's mewling was louder and more pronounced. Was the spanking taking her step by step, slap by slap closer to another orgasm?

The speakers went quiet. They weren't silent like what would have happened if the microphone had been turned off. No, they were quiet. I couldn't hear enough to imagine they were moving blankets around or getting dressed. Then Tiffany moaned and I knew what they were doing. It was a long, chest emptying moan that ended with her plea of "fuck me. Oh God yes keep fucking me. Oh. Oh. Oh." Daniel then said the obvious, "Damn girl, you soaked me." Tiffany responded with something other than words. It could have been a growl or a moan.

Finally Daniel said, "Now, you've been spanked. You have to know your place. You are a beautiful woman. No doubt about that. A truly beautiful woman. But you're also an obstinate bitch. When you step out of bounds you need to be brought back. Left to your own devices, before long, you'd be miles away from the boundaries of a good life. You'll run yourself into a ruinous existence. To keep you safe and on the straight and narrow, you need the discipline of a good strong man."

"A strong black man." Tiffany added. Her words were a pile of saccharine on the tongue, but Daniel played along and grunted a quick affirmation. Tiffany continued her ingratiating with "Damn, Daniel you're an animal. I won't be able to walk a straight line tomorrow."

"You'll just have to sway those hips and jiggle that ass. It's not like you haven't been doing it at work anyway. What else did you do with Brent?" Daniel said.

"What? Oh, Brent, yeah, well, well." Tiffany replied sounding a bit flustered.

"Yeah, you left off at Wendell's parking lot. You both were leaving." Daniel said. He sounded like he wanted to go home.

Tiffany coughed a few times and then cleared her throat. In a gravelly voice she said, "We went back home." Then, there was a long silence. Finally, Daniel coughed and I can only imagine that he gestured for her to continue because her words were pressured. Tiffany said, "We spent the day here just like we spent last night. Except for going to Wendell's, I was never really dressed until Brent left."

Daniel asked, "So you two fucked all day?"

Tiffany said, "Well, no, not all day. We ate and took a shower and..." There was long pause. Then, before Daniel could tell her to continue, she finished her sentence with "he took some pictures."

Daniel lost his dispassion and asked "He took pictures? What do you mean?"

Tiffany said, "Well, later, I guess it was early afternoon, he took pictures of me making lunch."

"Ok, so he took some pictures of you making lunch... Anything special about your cooking skills? Why did he want to memorialize the occasion with a photograph?" Daniel asked.

Tiffany again sounded like an abashed teenager. She said, "I know I should have protested especially since this is something you and I haven't done yet, but it made him smile. I posed wearing just my apron and clear mules. The pictures must have been good because after he took a bunch I was pulled away from the stove so he could bend me over the island and fuck me from behind. You black men are so wonderful. You take what you want and you always make the girl feel great. I came so hard. My God he fucked me like a wild animal."

"He did what?" Daniel asked.

Tiffany started to tell how Brent had fucked on the Island. But, Daniel stopped her by asking, "He took pictures?"

My mind instantly shut off. I'm not sure if Daniel or Tiffany said anything else. Cold, unwavering shock came over me. I'm not sure how long I was in this intellectual catatonia. I only remember clicking the pause button on the player. My mind stopped on "he took some pictures"; that statement reverberated through my mind and each iteration of the loop "he took some pictures" made the enormity of my situation come that much closer. My volition slowly came back. I stared at the video screen. Save for the big word 'Pause' emblazed on it, the screen was blank. But then, the screen had always been blank. How had I forgotten that? Images weren't important. The words held all the importance. This idiot took pictures. The fucking idiot took pictures. I clicked the pause button and watched as the word Pause written with yellow letters disappeared and was replaced briefly with a green arrowhead pointing to the right.

"What kind of pictures?" Daniel asked.

"Well, like I said, some of the pictures were of me just wearing my apron and heels. Then there were some of me in panties and maybe a bra but most were of me naked with heels. He took them all over the house; he even got a few of me in the backyard. But, for those, since I was outside I wore my bikini." Tiffany said.

Daniel pushed back against Tiffany's blithe confession. In a steely voice he asked, "Were there any of you two fucking?"