“I am glad to see you are easily aroused. I like that in a man.”
            I couldn’t believe my good fortune. I was already picturing her naked body in a satin- covered bed.
            “I didn’t bring you home, Mr. Lord, merely for drinks and conversation.”
             “My goodness, you have an ulterior motive?” I asked coyly.
            “Exactly. Stand up in front of me.”

            Her words were more like an order from a drill sergeant than a sexy request, but I complied.

            “Lower your zipper,” she said—more like a command than a suggestion.
            Her eyes were glued to my crotch as I pulled the zipper down.
            “Take your cock out, Mr. Lord.”
            I reached inside and somehow managed to disengage my penis from inside my underpants, allowing my erection to poke skyward from the “V” of my lowered fly.
            “Move your hand out of the way. Give me a better look.”
            I moved my hand away from the front of my pants. I felt foolish standing there with a solid-gold erection in front of a woman I hardly knew, but was beginning to fall for in a big (no pun intended) way.

            She stared at my cock for at least a minute, studying it like a child with a schoolbook. I waited for her to reach out and touch it.
            She said, “Masturbate.”
            “Say what?” I said.
            “Make it come for me,” she said in that same commanding tone.
            I didn’t know what the hell to make of this, what to do.
            She said, “You are taking too long, Mr. Lord. Let me show you to the door.”
            She arose from the sofa, being careful when she uncrossed her legs not to give me too much of a glimpse between them.
            “I don’t understand,” I said.

            I felt—stupid.
            She said, “It’s very simple, Mr. Lord. I do not permit hesitation when I ask someone to do something. You may put that thing back in your pants and get your coat.”
            Her tone was obvious. I eased my now half-hard erection into my pants and zippered back up. Retrieving my coat from the chair, she showed me to the door.
             “I’m sorry, Miranda. I would like to see you again. Please.”
            The look on her face was cold as ice.

            “I doubt that that will ever happen, Mr. Lord. Good evening.”
            The sound of the door closing behind me hurt terribly. I went home and hardly slept. I had become infatuated with this beautiful woman.