Two Hundred Dollars Ch. 02

"Okay," Kent shrugged. "Can always catch you tomorrow."

"Right," Bailey nodded, satisfied he'd received the intent of her communication.

Kent started toward the kitchen but turned around to look down the hallway as Bailey bent over to pick up her backpack. When she stood up, she turned and looked back over her shoulder, letting a smirk come to her face as their eyes met.

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The late night on Wednesday, almost getting caught with Bailey in his lap on Tuesday, and then feeling her up under her jeans, had taken a lot out of Kent and kept him up late with the tension -- masturbation or not.

Operating on the perfectly reasonable supposition that she wouldn't visit on Thursday, Kent called it a night by ten o'clock, cleaned up for bed and went promptly to sleep.

In the communication gap between men and women, there exist a great number of differences that are known to neither. What is commonplace for one seems odd to the other. Women generally expect their communal showers to have privacy curtains, for instance, while men are expected to shower in one giant room with a bunch of spigots on the wall.

Another crucial difference came into play this warm Thursday night, as Kent lay sleeping on top of his covers, with a light breeze coming in the window, slipping its way over his prone, boxer-short clad form, through his room and under his bedroom door.

Kent had not locked his door. He had closed it, only because he knew that Bailey and Carson might come home late and make a bit of noise or turn on the hall light on their way past, and he wanted to sleep through that. But he saw no reason, since he was in the apartment, to go to the absurd length of locking the door.

Bailey, naturally, would always lock her door, because prudent, sensible girls received thorough training from their mothers to do that sort of thing.

But Bailey, having a fairly shrewd sense of 19 year old boys, had long ago figured out that boys did not receive mandatory training on this subject the moment they hit puberty, and most didn't regularly lock the doors of the places in which they lived.

The appreciation of this simple difference allowed Bailey, tiptoeing through the darkened hallway in an old, threadbare pink nightgown, to slip into Kent's room without him even waking up. She had already made certain that Carson had fallen asleep, because the nightgown was years old, long since outgrown, and really didn't cover her very far. Such pieces of clothing only kept themselves out of the trash through nostalgia and sentimentalism. But tonight, it generated for Bailey just the right amount of daring.

She paused after gently closing the door, listening carefully to the pattern of his breathing, noting how the calm, unconcerned inhale and exhale didn't alter in the slightest.

I could be a thief, Bailey shook her head. I could be here to stab him and he didn't even hear me coming in.

The tiniest amount of light filtered in through the high window from a distant streetlight and Bailey gave her eyes time to adjust. Everything seemed grey and indistinct, despite the time spent in the dark hallway. Most of the time, a student's room had a digital clock, or a few blue LEDs shining away from some electronic device, but Kent evidently liked his room dark.

Bailey took a breath and decided she'd have to fake it. She'd paced the room off once before, when Kent had suggested her drunkenness ought to disqualify her for the night.

With her hands out in front of her, she quietly paced off, toe to heel, toward the light of the window. She felt herself getting closer, the breathing getting louder. Her knee bumped the side of the mattress. Now she just had to find him.

Looking carefully, she made him out, lying on his stomach with his head toward her right side. He slept facing the door, with his right knee curled up just a little.

When she realized how perfectly she'd imagined this, her chest rose with an involuntary breath.

Ever so gently, she sat on the bed and laid herself down with her back to him

Finally, groggily, he woke up.

"I -- whuh -- Bailey?"

"Who else?" she whispered as she backed up into his hip.

"I thought -- you said -"

"I had some time after all," she whispered. "If you're up for it."

His right hand, having lain somewhere above his head, gently found the top of her head. Bailey felt the softest touch Kent had ever laid on her as his fingers slid down over her hair to her bare shoulder. Bailey shivered as she felt him slowly moving his hand down the entire length of her arm, raising frail little hairs the entire way.

She spread her fingertips, stretching them down past the hem of her nightgown, so when Kent's fingers reached the end, his touch slid right onto her thigh. Bailey felt his breath on the back of her neck.

"Lift up the gown," she said. "Underneath."

Kent pushed the gown up.

"No panties," she pointed out as he hand cupped her right cheek. "Four?"

"Mm," Kent squeezed her cheek in a strange way that hinted of defiance. "The discount was for seeing you. I can't see anything at all right now."

"Oh," she breathed in sharply when she heard his tone, "So... five?"

"Yeah, five."

It did mean one more spanking, but he'd sounded definitive. Bailey could have turned on the lights, demanded it just be four, but this particular evening she wanted it very, very dark.

She turned over slowly onto her stomach, letting Kent's hand keep up with her turn, holding its grip on her cheek, and lifted her hips up in the air.

With the darkness protecting her, she let the nightgown fall up her body, leaving most of her back bare too. Further relying on the shield of obscurity, her right hand, the one farthest from Kent, slid down her body and pushed at her genitals.

I hope he doesn't notice, she thought, although she couldn't even explain to herself why she felt the need to keep her secret. Maybe because he'll stop taking spankings for money if he finds out.

She knew, though, that she needed to get the timing just right. She slid a finger between her lips, making her body tingle, just as Kent spoke.

"Ready?"

Bailey wiggled her hips a little, bracing against his hand. "Yes."

Given their position, he wouldn't be able to spank her very low, but she didn't mind. She'd already had a good two days of awkward sitting to keep their nightly sessions in mind. She felt completely at ease with him spanking some other part of her ass.

The first slap came down on her bare flesh right in the centre. She hadn't realized, before hand, how much harder the pain would come with her hips bent more than ninety degrees. Bailey had stretched her muscles and tendons so far that the impact vibrated her body instead of shaking her flesh. The collision cracked through the silence of the room, echoing high and sharp, so contrary to the surreptitious whispering of their encounter thus far.

"One," she moaned, and pushed her finger hard against her clitoris, feeling the wetness that had started building before she'd even entered the room.

Kent moved his hand to her left cheek and she turned her hips away. He squeezed first, then pulled back and let her have it.

"Two," Bailey cried softly, telling herself that she'd have to take her spankings this way every time from now on.

Back to the right, she flexed her thighs as she masturbated, letting him feel her muscles when he gripped her cheek. His hand came down, so hard this time, Bailey imagined they could hear it upstairs.

"Three."

She increased the vigour of her stroking, her fluids keeping her three fingers slippery as they powered away at her inner lips.

Bailey knew Kent could hear her panting, but she hoped he couldn't feel the undulations from her masturbation.

Darkness is my shield.

She wiggled her hips back and forth, hoping that would hide her actions. It also greatly improved the sensation her fingers made, wiggling between her lips and her clit.

Kent went to strike her left cheek, but she'd moved herself so much between grope and spank, only his fingers caught her.

"Sorry. Just do it again," she panted, and held still while he cupped her left cheek and let her have her fourth one.

"Four," she whimpered softly, and plunged her face into the pillow, knowing what was about to happen, thanking all the gods she knew by name that she hadn't argued against taking five.

She just needed one more...

Kent's hand came down hard on her right cheek and Bailey's muffled screech drained itself into his pillow. Shaking madly, her fingers jammed against her genitals, she curled up in a ball and fell sideways, trembling as she tried to regain her breath.

"Five," Bailey whispered, her voice soft and content.

"You...okay?" Kent asked, not entirely sure about the shriek, but casually resting his hand on her bare hip, starting to rub the spot he'd spanked hardest in slow circles.

She became aware, having rolled sideways toward him, that her left cheek had come to lay against his erection. Only the thin layer of his boxer shorts separated them.

But you can't do anything, something whispered inside her head. Can you? No. It won't work that way. We have to leave. You do you and he'll do him. Don't break it, now.

"I'm fine," she heaved. "You'll, ah, mark the board?"

Standing up, she felt the nightgown shift, sweat making it cling in an ungainly fashion so she had to force it down. God, I can smell myself. Dripping so badly.

"Yeah, no problem."

"Perfect," she whispered, and tiptoed out of the room.

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Jesus, Kent thought, jerking madly the moment she left the room. He took off his shorts and pointed the head of his cock into them.

Not only was her ass up against my cock, her skin was hot.

Bailey had been sweating hard, taking that spanking. She'd even screamed into his pillow. Laying on his side, he could smell her hair in the pillow -- the scent of her shampoo, conditioner and a kind of perfume. A faint orange and strawberry scent lingered in the air, mixing together with... one of those floral scents. Kent couldn't tell lilac from lavender, but he'd never noticed any of those things before. But in the dark, what else did he have?

On top of all that, he could still feel the curve of her cheek in his hand, tight because of the way she'd lifted her hips up so high.

He felt his groin spasm as it began expelling semen into his shorts, imagining loosing himself all over her spanking-reddened cheeks.

Christ, woman.

Kent's breathing calmed down once he'd emptied himself and discarded the shorts on the basement floor.

Can I get back to sleep now?

He doubted it, and so he lay on his back, thinking and catching his breath while he wondered about Bailey. Had she intended to skip tonight because she'd taken too much damage? Had she then changed her mind, panicked about falling behind in the count?

Kent liked spanking her and he could acknowledge that without shame. And not once had he had slapped her butt so hard that she'd stopped coming back. She'd bantered about it, sure, and whined a bit, maybe, to cover up her embarrassment. But Bailey always came back and never once had she tried to pay him any of the money she owed.

And he started thinking about that shriek in the pillow.

Very odd, he decided.

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When he rose Friday morning, he went straight to the shower to properly wash himself. Despite it all, he'd slept well and good. The scent of coffee throughout the basement had faded and grown old, from which Kent deduced Bailey had left very early for her first lecture. He took his time in the shower, unable to shake images of her from his mind.

The clearest pictures came from the very first night: Bailey leaning against the door frame; Bailey crawling over his lap. He had grown accustomed to the feeling of her denim jeans, both the texture when he touched her and the distinct stinging sensation when he spanked her.

Last night, though, had evoked different sensations.

With his eyes denied, he smelled her. Even as the soap and shampoo ran every real odour off his body, Kent could still remember the orange and strawberry, and the floral scents from her hair. He'd slept on the same pillow where her head had lain for a few brief moments and the smell of her stayed in his nose the whole night.

He'd probably smell it all day long.

And without his eyes, he'd had to feel for her legs, grope around her cheeks to get the right spot, feel the little hollows in the sides of her cheeks. Every goose bump and curve drew his attention anew.

Kent cranked the shower off and towelled himself dry in a hurry. He could still take down an emergency breakfast and make it to class.

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When he came home for a nap, he half expected to find her waiting, but she didn't show up for the entire afternoon, so he slept well and arrived refreshed for his lab. He didn't see her Friday night either, and that didn't bother him. Kent had hit the point at which the intensity of his experiences had overwhelmed him, left him wanting to savour all the emotions his last encounter had peppered his mind with.

He didn't even play any games or watch any TV. He filled out his lab report without an idle thought in his brain.

Sometime around 11pm, Kent went to sleep, content that Bailey would either drop by or not, and he could take it either way.

No one disturbed him.

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Kent and Bailey didn't run into each other until Saturday morning when she joined him for breakfast.

"How ya feeling?" he asked.

"Good," she smiled. "Missed yesterday though."

"S'alright," Kent shrugged it off.

Bailey smiled again and they sat across from each other, talking about school and classes, as if nothing strange ever happened between them. Kent had idiots for project partners. Bailey had a T.A. so smart, no one in the class could understand the woman. Kent had too many midterms coming up at once while Bailey had three assignments due Monday.

They washed the dishes when they finished eating and went down the hallway, ostensibly toward their heavy loads of school work.

"Just one thing," she called out as they passed her door.

"Hm?"

She stood with her back to the door, holding it ajar.

"For, uh, next time," she jerked her head toward her room.

"What?"

"You can pick," her eyes went to the ceiling. "For the next time."

She pushed the door open with her backside and waved him in with another jerk of her head.

He saw her little desk -- a real one with drawers and everything -- and her four-drawer, golden-stained dresser covered with a collection of framed pictures. In the far corner of the room sat a single bed, neatly made up with clean white sheets.

Upon that bed, she had laid half a dozen pairs of panties, none of which he had seen before.

"Oh," he said.

"Choose," she said, eyeing the hallway warily.

Three of the pairs were simple black with varying cuts. Bailey had laid them out with their fronts facing upward, so he could see that none had any sheer or transparent parts. The fourth and fifth tended into the dark blue area, one with a delicate lace edge, the other seemingly designed for athletics. The sixth, on the end of the bed, was a white thong with a sheer, translucent front, woven with a strange floral design despite its transparency.

"The white one," he said, as if he really had a choice.

"That's what I figured," Bailey replied. "But I thought you could have a look."

"Thanks," he smiled.

Kent and Bailey looked at each other awkwardly, at which point Bailey -- still standing at the door -- pursed her lips and looked up at the ceiling. Kent gave a half-shrug and walked past her out of the room.

"Later," she said lightly.

"Later."

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Darkness came and Kent kept himself busy to keep his mind off Bailey. He heard footsteps come by his door late at night, booted and masculine; Carson on his way out. A moment later, Bailey's bare feet whispered past as well, not stopping. Where did she go without shoes? He heard the lock click at the top of the stairs and, walking more heavily this time, almost if she wanted him to hear her coming.

A rapping came at his chamber door.

Bailey slipped into his room, wearing her black jeans accompanied by a mid-riff baring black halter top, and stood next to the whiteboard.

Kent only raised his eyebrows, waiting for her.

With a deep breath, she took the marker and made two tick marks in the corner and turned back to face him.

"I missed yesterday," Bailey defended herself.

"Yes, you did," he said. "How do you want it?"

Instead of answering, she took one step over to him and took his hand, pulling him out of his chair. Facing him, she unbuckled her jeans and slowly unzipped them. With her right knee tucked into her left knee, the denim held fast, revealing only the very top of her white panties.

She turned her knee just enough to let the jeans slip past and, in one fell swoop, they hit the ground around her ankles.

"Oh," Kent breathed.

Bailey took his hand again and, before he'd quite recovered from the sight of her transparent underwear, pulled him toward the door. Helplessly, he allowed her to lead him into the darkened hallway, his eyes entirely captured by her bare cheeks. The only light in the dim hallway came from his room and the small light bulb around the corner at the top of the stairway. As a result, Bailey mostly disappeared into darkness the moment she crossed the threshold of his room.

She didn't take him far, just to the little nook under the stairs where the washer and drier lived.

"This will do," she said as she released his hand.

Already panting nervously, Bailey put her hands on the washing machine and leaned over, keeping her thighs tightly together.

Kent regained his senses, barely, and placed his hand on the small of her back. She had bared herself from her toes all the way up to the elastic underside of her halter top -- excepting the thong underwear that covered her not at all from where he stood.

"If Carson -"

"He'll be at least fifteen minutes getting groceries," she glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyes twinkling in the darkness.

"Alright," Kent's voice trembled.

"Don't take forever, though," Bailey chided him as she arched her back and pushed her hips out.

"Right, right," Kent took a breath and slid his hand down to her left cheek.

"Where ya gonna go?" Bailey's voice picked up a tremor as his fingertips moved over her skin. "High or low?"

"I was thinking," Kent moved his hand in slow circles, "getting all around."

Bailey shivered, whispering, "'kay."

The first spanking came low and sudden, echoing back to their ears along the length of the hallway.

"One," she puffed out with a short breath.

Kent wasted no time working his way up her left cheek, delivering three more slaps to her rear at slightly different spots.

"Two. Three. Four!" Bailey managed to shout and whisper at the same time, while trying to control the shaking in her body.

Kent paused, his hand hovering in the air, not touching her, not giving her any idea when or where the next strike would come. Bailey didn't turn around or even say anything. She just waited, shivering, not knowing anything.

Seconds ticked by.

Bailey took in a breath, opened her mouth as if to speak, and his hand came down at the same moment, striking at the so far untouched side of her left cheek, forcing a surprised breath out of her lungs. The breath she'd meant to use for words came out as a shocked groan.

"Five."

"Should I do these five on the other side now?" Kent asked, cupping and caressing her right cheek.