Act I: Where she hooks me

Before I could turn my head in surprise, she had fingered my last cigarette from the crumpled pack in front of me. It was now dangling from her lips as she shot me a defiant look.

‘Aren’t you going to give me a light?’

Her fingernails were drumming impatiently on the vinyl counter top while I fumbled with my Zippo, finally producing a flame which she sucked in sharply through the cigarette. She swiveled away from me and threw her head back to spit a cloud of smoke into the already dense air of the hotel bar.

I eyed her cautiously in the mirror behind the bar. Late forties, cropped black hair short enough to be daring, huge round earrings that stretched her tired earlobes. The executive kind. Her face was hard and stern, too much mascara around the slitted eyes, her thin lips painted three shades too dark for her pale skin. She was wearing a grey pin-striped business suit, straight-lined skirt and jacket over a white blouse, black stockings, high-heel pumps.

Anger breathed through her every pore. This was a woman who, in my twisted fantasy, could force a man to his knees with a simple look. I felt my hardness tearing a tell-tale crease into the front of my pants as I imagined her standing above me, arrogant and disdainful, baring her crotch with one hand while the other – spent ashes from her cigarette snowing down on my shoulder – pulled me into her wet cunt. Casually looking down at me and puffing her cigarette, she rode herself to a swift cold climax on my face.

‘Do you need help with that?’

The woman had turned back to me and her eyes were on my crotch, where my hand was squeezing my stiff dick through the fabric. Embarrassed, I crossed my legs and hid my lap under the counter. I didn’t dare to look at her, but I could feel her cold stare boring holes in my skull.

As inconspicuously as possible, I slipped a ten dollar bill onto the counter to pay for my beer and slid off my bar stool.

‘Sit down.’

I froze. Her voice was sharp and commanding. She hadn’t moved. I sneaked a glance at the mirror and she was sitting there as before, blowing cigarette smoke into the air. She was staring back at me through the mirror. I slid back onto my chair, my brain spinning as I tried to figure out what to do. She had no business talking to me like that. I should have just left. What kept me?

‘I-I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.’

‘I think you’re in for a sexual harassment charge if you don’t shut your mouth right this instant.’

‘I don’t k-know what you’re talking about,’ I croaked. I felt the blood rushing up to my face. They take sexual harassment very seriously in this country.

The woman turned back at me, staring at me with an amused smile on her face. Suddenly, her hand was in my lap and I felt it grabbing my hard-on.

‘This is what I’m talking about.’

She gave it a hard squeeze, pulling me back as I tried to turn away. I looked around as inconspicuously as I could, but no one seemed to notice what was going on. She let go of my dick after a while, but kept looking at me.

‘Take it out.’

The words jolted me. She had not whispered.

‘W-what?’

‘I said, take it out.’

I looked at her, but had to divert my eyes under the pressure of her stare. Her face was dead serious.

‘I… no! I can’t do that here. Someone will notice.’

‘You weren’t too concerned about that a minute ago while you were whacking off.’

‘I wasn’t… ‘

The woman drew from her cigarette and blew the smoke in my face. Then she leaned over and whispered in my ear.

‘Listen. You started this. Now take it out or I start screaming rape and murder.’

I had an impulse to get up and run, but something in the look of her eyes held me back. Or was it something in me? The whole situation was crazy, but it was extremely arousing at the same time. I slowly unzipped my fly and peeled the front of my briefs from my pulsating dick. It popped out against the bottom of the counter.

‘Show me.’

I looked around, then slowly straightened up a few inches, enough to allow her a glance at my exposed dick. I was shocked at how the white flesh contrasted against my dark blue trousers and quickly hunched over again.

‘OK. Now let’s see you jerk off.’

I had fantasized about this. An angry woman finding sadistic pleasure in humiliating me. Forcing me to do things for her sole enjoyment.
But this was different. This was real.

‘I’m sorry,’ I mumbled while I quickly zipped up and rushed out of the bar.


Act II: Where she subdues me

I slammed the door of my room shut with my shoulder and slid down to the floor, tears rolling down my face. Oh my god oh my god oh my god, what a fool I’d made of myself. My chest felt like it was about to burst with emotion, a wild myriad of contradicting feelings that clashed and roared inside me.

What had happened down there? Why had I acceded? And why had I crumbled? Was I so obvious? A soaring pain ripped through a core in me I had long forgotten. Images of my mother came and went, I could hear her shrill voice calling out my name in blind rage. I needed someone to hold me, to hug me tight and let me sob my heart out on her chest. But I was alone.

The phone rang. The room was dark, but I didn’t want to turn on the light. I inhaled deeply and got up to feel my way along the wall until I reached the bed. I sat down and picked up the phone, not even wondering who it could be.

‘Yes?’

‘Room 304. And make it snappy.’

She hung up. I sat in the dark, confused.

The sharp tone, the commanding take-for-granted attitude. I had wanted it to be her. She must have gotten my room number from the bartender.

It wasn’t that I was appalled. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go. I knew that I would the moment she gave me the order. But I was nervous and afraid. Never before had I met a woman who had looked through me with such ease and pinpoint accuracy. She had smelled my susceptibility like a feline smells its prey. And I, the prey, was too spellbound and awestruck to run for dear life.

My knees were shaking when I knocked at the door marked ‘304’. Nothing happened for a while and I had a good mind of running back to the elevators, but then the door opened slowly.

She was still wearing the suit but had taken off the black stockings and sported a pair of spongy white slippers which contrasted with her stern and short manner. She looked me up and down like she was surprised to see me.

‘Yes?’

‘Uhm, it’s me. From the bar. You… ’

‘What do you want?’

‘I… you called. You said I should…’

‘I know what I said. I asked you what you want.’

‘Uhm… I don’t know. I-I just came. B-because you told me to.’

I never saw the hand coming. It slapped me right across the left check. My head was jerked sideways violently and I almost lost my balance. I stared at her in disbelief, rubbing my enflamed check. Before I could react, she grabbed my tie, turned around and dragged me into the room. I stumbled after her, trying hard not to fall flat on my face.

The woman towed me into the sitting area of a large suite, where she released me and sat down on the couch. I looked around in awe. This was nothing like the crummy standard room I was staying in. To the right, a double door gave into a bedroom where an enormous bed with scores of plush cushions in assorted colours and patterns stood tall on a raised platform. To my left a Louis XV desk stood between two French windows. The soft light from a corner lamp next to the sofa gave the room a sense of coziness and home.

For a while the woman just sat there and scrutinized me with a stare so intense that I had to turn my eyes down.

‘That was for running out on me in the bar.’

‘I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. It’s just…’

‘What?’

‘I… I was overwhelmed. Nothing like this has ever happened to me.’

‘You’re chicken shit, that’s what you are. You spend your nights jerking off on the fantasy of a woman taking control, but when you run into one who actually does it, you shit your pants. You men are all the same.’

How could she know so much about me?

‘OK, let’s try this again. And no hick-ups this time. Either you do as I say, or you forget we ever met. I don’t waste my time with chicken shits. Understood?’

I gulped, then nodded.

‘Good. Now take your clothes off.’

She stood up and walked to the French windows behind her to close the curtains. She did it slowly and deliberately and didn’t seem to be in a hurry to check if I was obeying. She took it for granted that I had come to get laid.

I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t like being taken for granted. Yet I found her boldness and commanding attitude extremely exciting. Even the slap in the face, offending as it had been, had added to my sexual arousal. Still, I was not prepared to trade my dignity for sexual pleasure.