CHAPTER ONE
The first time Chrissy saw Derek he was standing alone at the bar of Craig`s Tavern. She
was there with some of her girlfriends from work. They liked the place because the stock
traders from the nearby exchange went there, and sometimes lawyers, too. Chrissy was an
administrative assistant for a large commercial bank around the corner, as were her
friends.
They liked to look at the men and be looked at in return. If they were attractive men,
the girls would try hard to be noticed so they might be picked up for a good time. Chrissy
was the best looking and also the boldest. She had long brown hair, which she wore very
straight down the middle of her back, large green eyes, an oval face and a body that would
rank at least a nine out of ten on anyone`s scale.
The men who`d seen her naked and there`d been a reasonable number in the six years
since she`d turned eighteen tended to like her ass best, and her flat belly. She was a
petite woman, standing just five foot one inch tall in her bare feet, which gave her that
sweet, compact look that was known in the vernacular as a having a `tight little body.`
She also had a bit of coloring, owing to an Italian grandmother. This meant her hours in
the tanning booth were never wasted. As far as Chrissy`s older sister was concerned,
however, the productivity of the girl`s entire life left something to be desired.
At thirty, her sister already had two screaming children and the stretch marks to show
for it. Their mother and father wanted the same for Chrissy, which was why she`d moved a
thousand miles away to live on her own.
"I`ll only be young once, Ma," she`d argued the day she left, and that had
become her mantra ever since.
At the particular point in time when she spotted Derek Traynor, she had two sort-of
boyfriends and a married bank executive she was seeing. Neither knew of the others and not
even her girlfriends knew about the guy at the gym she sometimes screwed after her
workouts.
Derek stood out for a couple of reasons. First because he didn`t have on a tie or
anything even remotely resembling business attire. He was wearing a pearl gray turtleneck,
suede jacket, black slacks and loafers. It was a look that oozed money, so much so that he
didn`t have to kowtow to the conventional notion of a suit.
He was handsome, of course, brutally so, which only added to the cool, aloof image. He
might well have been one of those twenty something movie stars, the kind who has gotten so
big that he runs his own production company and film studio.
The girls spent a good fifteen minutes giggling from their table across the semi-crowded,
brightly lit establishment, sneaking peeks at him as he stood at the bar, sipping a clear,
mixed drink, not a hair out of place, his strong, defined chin, and profiled face just a
tiny bit larger than life.
Was he waiting for his fiancée? A girlfriend? Or was it some business partner or
other?
"Well, I`m just going to go talk to him," Chrissy announced midway through her
second happy hour margarita.
The other three shrieked sotto voce and grabbed her arms, all bug eyed and girlish. No
way, they all said, you can`t do that. But of course she could and therefore she would.
"I`m going to live my life," she informed them. "What are you all so
afraid of anyway? He`s just a man."
"That`s easy for you to say," said the slightly chubby blonde Mandy.
"You`re a hottie. Men fall at your feet all the time."
"Exactly," nodded Tanya, an African American who was a little too tall and
skinny.
Chrissy gulped the rest of her margarita, shook out her long, silky hair and headed off
to make trouble. She happened to look cute today, in her opinion, with her gold hoop
earrings, short yellow dress and white boots. It was a little provocative for the dress
code at work, but she was fucking the boss` cousin so who was going to say anything?
"Hi." Chrissy announced her presence, sidling right up next to him at the bar.
Most men would consider that quite a treat, to have the instant and complete attention of
a pretty, sassy girl like her, and after an entrance like this, they`d usually be putty in
her hands. Derek, however, barely noticed her as he continued sipping his drink. She
double-checked for a wedding ring on his finger. Finding none, she plunged on.
"I noticed you were looking at me," she declared.
This was a safe thing to say because men were always looking at her.
Derek gave her the barest attention, a minimal pass over with those eyes of his: cerulean
blue, deep and complicated. Fuck it, she thought, the more he`s playing hard to get, the
worse I want him.
"I don`t think so," he replied.
Chrissy pouted. Was he gay or something?
"Well I`m here now," she smiled charmingly. "If you`d like to. Notice me,
I mean."
"What I`d like," he said flatly, "is to be left alone."
Jeezus, she was actually getting rejected. After she`d gone this far out on a limb, too.
There was no way she could go back to her friends with her tail between her legs. She
needed to get some reason from him, some way to save face. "I`m sorry," she
said. "Obviously you`re engaged or seeing somebody. She must be a very lucky
person."
"No," he took a sip of the drink, the ice clinking on the edge of the thick,
beveled glass. "There`s no one."
"Oh."
He angled his lips slightly, a motion that flared his dimples, not to mention her loins.
"If you don`t mind my saying, Miss
"
"Chrissy," she supplied. "Chrissy Newland."
"If you don`t mind my saying, Miss Newland, you strike me as being an extremely
insecure young lady."
Chrissy couldn`t believe her ears. Not only had he just insulted her, he`d done so with
the tone and condescension of a man twice his age. Her response was quick and none too
subtle. "I don`t know where you were raised, buddy, but where I come from, that was
just plain rude. And where do you get off calling me young lady, anyway? I bet you`re not
even thirty."
He shrugged, the very picture of indifference. "Like I said, I just wanted to be
left alone. You`re the one who came over here in the first place."
"Yes, I did," she agreed. "And it`s a mistake I won`t make again, trust
me"
She was halfway back to her friends` table when it occurred to her she had more to say.
"For your information," she went back to confront him again. "I am not
insecure. I know who I am, and there are lots of men who`d consider themselves pretty
damned lucky to be in my company."
"Then do us both a favor and go find one," he said.
Chrissy hated how calm he was being. It was as if the more clever answers he had for her
remarks, the more she wanted to shock him. "You think I couldn`t? I could get laid
just like that. Don`t try and act like you don`t know it`s true. Maybe you`re so rich you
can let a fine little honey like me go by the wayside, but you`re just one man. One, puny
little man."
He regarded her, his face completely unemotional, his eyes an unreadable sea, completely
and dangerously alien. "The answer is maybe," he told her, continuing his
oblique, martial arts style of dialogue.
"What answer? I didn`t even ask you a question."
"Sure you did. You came over here in the first place to find out if I would permit
you in my bed, and the answer is maybe. It would all depend on whether you passed the test
or not."
She gave him the contemptuous glare he deserved. This guy was either a lunatic or the
biggest egomaniac since Saddam. "You know, maybe instead of analyzing other people
you ought to get yourself a little therapy, cause you`re about as delusional as they
come."
"I can back up everything I say, Miss Newland, can you?"
"Don`t call me that," she snapped.
"It`s your name."
"I`m Chrissy."
"I thought you didn`t like to be talked down to," he reminded. "I`m trying
to show respect."
She held up her hands. "You know what, you can keep your respect and the rest of
your fucking mind games, because I have had enough of them and you."
"After I`ve had you, I`ll call you by your given name."
Chrissy felt a sudden weakness in her knees. His voice was like steel wrapped in velvet,
the tone steady and completely confident, as if it were already a done deal. She would be
his, captive to his touch, her naked body completely open and at his disposal. What would
a man like this do to a soft, attractive female, she wondered? What acts would he perform,
worse still, what might he make her do?
"In that case you might as well get used to calling me Miss Newland," Chrissy
vowed, fighting to hold her ground against the rising tide of passion. "Because the
day you have me is the day hell freezes over."
He smiled in response, as if enjoying a small joke not intended for her amusement. It was
the last straw.
"Fuck you," she fumed, already heading back to the table for the second time.
"So, what happened?" Tanya wanted to know as soon as Chrissy seated herself.
"Yeah," said Mandy. "You didn`t last five minutes. Weren`t you his
type?"
Chrissy grit her teeth. The last thing she wanted right now was to be humiliated in front
of these less attractive girls. She was going to have to go back up there and put up with
more of his crap, there was no other way. "Actually, it went fantastic," she
fibbed. "I just came back for my bag and to say goodnight."
"Omigod," gasped Tanya, "you`re going with him?"
"All the way," Chrissy winked. "See you guys in the morning."
With any luck they`d take off in a few minutes and she could, too. Alone. In the mean
time, she`d just have to trade more barbs with Mr. Tall, Dark and Delirious.
"Okay," said Mandy. "Just be careful. He looks a little
raw."
"Nothing I can`t handle, sweetie."
She sauntered back to the bar. "I`m just doing this to fool my friends," she
said, offering a fake smile. "I don`t even like you."
"Actually, you`re here for real," he countered, as if he knew her own thoughts
better than she did herself. "If you weren`t, you`d have just told them I was gay and
been done with it. Unfortunately, the test is going to be a lot harder now since you
bailed out the first time not to mention your use of foul language."
"Whatever," she rolled her eyes.
Could it be true, though? Had she been drawn to this man like a moth to flame, the most
arrogantly sexy, masculine male she`d ever encountered in her life?
He ordered her a beer, a bottled domestic.
"I don`t drink that shit," she said.
"You really do have quite a mouth on you, don`t you?" he observed.
She blew him a kiss. "The better to tease you with, honey."
He took a sip from the freshly delivered bottle and placed it in front of her.
"Finish it."
"Is that your little test?" She laughed.
"No. We just need the empty bottle, that`s all."
Chrissy raised a brow. Maybe she could have some fun with this after all. There wasn`t a
sex game or a man she hadn`t beaten yet, and there was no reason to think this clown
could ever give her a run for her money. Okay, so he`d done some nasty things to her
libido last time around. It was mumbo jumbo, that`s all.
She smiled at him wickedly, pure party girl. "Just be careful. Your little test
might backfire. You could end up in over your head."
"That`s a chance we`ll take," he acknowledged.
Chrissy drowned the watery beer in three long swallows, one right after the other.
"Here you go, cowboy. What`s next? A breath holding contest?"
"You are going to take this bottle," he said. "And use it to make yourself
come."
The implications hit her like a fist squeezing her heart. She was seeing herself, the
smoked glass neck of the bottle pushed between her sex lips, moving in and out, in and
out. "You`re insane," she dismissed.
"You`ll do it in the bathroom," he ignored her protests. "You will take no
more than five minutes. You will then wash the bottle and bring it back to me. We will
discuss the rest of the evening from there."
"Why would I fuck a bottle for you?" She demanded. "You think I`m that
hard up for your tool? No offense, but I`m sure I`ve seen bigger."
He checked his watch. "The five minutes starts now."
She laughed, covering a whirling tide of feelings. Outrage. Shame. Curiosity. Along with
a strange, dark thrill at the thought of succumbing to this man and his perverted test.
"I don`t care if I have five years. I`m not doing it."
"You can fight it," he reasoned. "You can run away again. But you`ll only
come back. And each time the test will be more difficult than the last. Much more
difficult."
"How would you even know if I really did it or not?" she challenged. "I
could lie and tell you anything."
He regarded her, eyes fixed, his very presence putting her in her place. "Trust
me," he assured her confidently. "I would know."
It was not a tone she`d ever heard from a man before. It made her feel small, and very,
very predictable. "Oh, so I suppose you know that special little look then, do
you?" She ridiculed. "The look of a woman who`s just fucked a bottle?"
"No," he dissolved her sarcasm with a single breath. "But I know the look
of a woman who`s obeyed me."
Chrissy leaned against the bar for support. She was breathing quickly, her tight nipples
pressing against the silk of her bra. The sounds of the tavern were distant, as if out of
the end of a tunnel behind her. What exactly was happening here? She wanted to throw
herself into this man`s arms. Or better still at his feet. What the hell had been in those
margaritas, anyway?
"You have three minutes left," he handed her the bottle. "You`ll have to
hurry."
Chrissy`s hand was numb as she took the bottle. I`m doing it she thought as she walked to
the women`s room, her boot heels clicking on the floor, I`m on my way to masturbate for a
man in a public toilet. I`m about to violate myself with a foreign object for a chance to
have sex.
And I`m being timed to boot.
"Hi Chrissy," cried Erika as Chrissy entered the women`s room. "Long time
no see."
"Yea," giggled Mandy, standing beside her at the sink, fixing her lipstick.
"It`s been like five minutes. So are you and this guy gonna do the deed or
what?"
Fuck. Of all the times to run into her two friends again. I just have to keep focused,
she thought. I have to get into one of these stalls and do what I need to do.
Thank god, one was open.
"I never kiss and tell," she dove behind the door, trying to hide the bottle
behind her back.
"That guy sure is dreamy, though," sighed Mandy.
"I know," Erica agreed. "Say, Chrissy, what`s his name?"
Shit. She didn`t even know it herself.
"Um
we didn`t get to that yet."
"Who cares about his name," said Mandy. "I want to know how rich he
is."
"Is he loaded, Chrissy?" Erica wanted to know.
"I guess." Chrissy lifted her dress. Her white silk panties were soaked clear
through. Her pussy was already throbbing in anticipation. Horny, helpless and totally
mindblown, she yanked down the material to her ankles and sat herself on the smooth seat.
It felt cold on her ass. For a minute she just looked at the bottle, shaped like a cock,
but harder and totally merciless. Could she really do this thing? Could she live with
herself if she didn`t?
"He must be," Erica said. "Look at those clothes."
Oh, well, here goes nothing. Chrissy whipped off her underwear and opened her boot-clad
legs. "Oh, fuck," she hissed under her breath.
"What did you say, Chrissy?" Erica asked.
"Nothing," she tried to keep her voice steady, her one hand holding open her
labia lips, the other applying the rounded ring of glass to the outer folds of her pulsing
sex, delicate flesh against ultra smooth glass. Her tiny feet pivoted on her toes now, the
heels in the air turning outward as she pushed the beer bottle past the barrier then
inside herself.
"Are you okay, Chrissy?" Mandy wanted to know.
Chrissy yielded herself an inch, then two, then three. Oh, god, this was hot, and nasty,
too. She was going to come fast, but could she do it quietly? "I`m fine
really," she insisted.
Considering I`m performing a lewd, semi-public sex act at the behest of a total stranger,
she thought sardonically.
"God, you are so lucky," crooned Erica. "I`ll bet he`s gonna be really
good in bed."
Chrissy clenched at the glass with her pussy muscles. In a way this was an extension of
him, her body pierced at his command, her pleasure determined by his will.
You will come, he`d told her. In five minutes. And she was doing it.
How could he just tell her when to orgasm, though, as if she were a trained seal? She was
a woman. A lady.
Drawing a ragged breath, she pushed the bottle till it hurt, then pulled it back out,
almost all the way. I need it to be on my clit, she thought, that`s the way to give it up
quicker.
And that`s what it was, too, giving something up, namely a climax, one that he would take
from her. One look in her eyes, at her face, he`d assured her, and he would know if she`d
done as she`d been told. What did sexual obedience look like in a woman exactly? Was it a
matter of her expression or would it show in her body, too, in the way she stood before
him and how she carried herself? And what of the depth and longevity of the effect? Would
it show only for a moment what an obedient girl she`d been or might she be marked for
life?
"He`s
he`s a strong man," Chrissy replied to her friend, even as she imagined
herself naked before him, under his inspection, her every nerve ending on heightened
alert, craving command, screaming out in anticipation of what he might want her to do
next. "He acts
older."
She felt like such a slut, doing this while talking to her friends. Humping a bottle,
getting off in the cheapest most whorish way possible. It was so hard not to moan, not to
undulate her body in response to the sensations. She was so full. God, she looked so
amazing this way, the whole neck swallowed. Two, three more times she moved it in and
out.
The clit, yes, she had to press the clit. She had to finish this. If only the girls would
leave so she could do this in private. What were they saying now? She gripped the toilet
paper roll, pressing her thighs together in a desperate effort to keep things manageable.
It was going to be an explosion.
A small groan came from the back of her throat
so good.
Next thing she knew, someone was knocking on the door of the stall. Her friends were
concerned about her.
Again, she told them she was okay. Pushing her pelvis forward, she made contact with the
wide part of the bottle. Her fingers gripped the end of it, steadying it as she moved,
keeping her from snapping the end off. The shuddering was starting, deep down and
familiar. From the tips of her toes, working its way upwards.
All she could think of was him, out there, calmly sipping his drink as she went through
this ordeal entirely on his behalf. How had he managed it? How he had exercised that kind
of power without even telling her his name?
Whatever it was, it was palpable. A charge that passed through this very bottle into her
cunt. A charge he had put there the moment he touched it, the moment he put it to his
lips, set it down and gave her the order.
Use the bottle to make yourself come
Chrissy rocked. Chrissy rolled her eyes. Chrissy was gone. Exploding, or rather
imploding, her senses falling in on themselves, desperately making herself small enough to
avoid detection all the while knowing there was no real control here. The orgasm had come
in its own fashion, it would run its course, the juices would flow, her tits would throb,
her brain would soar until it was done.
No mercy, no let up, until the thing between her legs had had its way.
A cold, lifeless thing, wedged, inserted, dancing, consuming. Occupying.
Finally she went stiff, for a few moments, perhaps, or an hour, and then she was limp.
"Chrissy? What`s wrong with you?" Erica was saying.
Chrissy`s head was against the metal wall, her cheek against the cool, flat surface. She
could hear her own heart, thumping itself back to rest. Every muscle had dissipated its
energy. Still, her pussy throbbed, the bottle still pressing at her very core.
"Just
drank too fast," she managed.
"Do you need any help?" Mandy queried.
"No
it`s all good."
All good, indeed. A threshold crossed, a sweetly wicked delight enjoyed, snatched from
the jaws of propriety.
"We`re going to take off, then, Chrissy. It`s getting late."
She tried to contain her delight. "Okay, Erica, if you need to."
"Yeah, we`ll see you in the morning, then. You can give us all the dirt."
A few moments later she heard the door swing open and closed, indicating the pair had
gone. Waiting a little longer to be sure no one else was coming in, she dared to open her
legs again. Her thighs were slick with her own emissions. Holding her breath, she withdrew
the bottle. Slowly. It dislodged with a loud popping noise, as if her sex did not want to
let go. Amazed, she stared at the thing. It had actually been in her. It had actually
done her. Never would she look at a beer bottle in the same way.
Or at a handsome stranger in a tavern.
Feeling as if she hadn`t walked in a week, Chrissy rose to her feet. How much time had
passed? It had to be long past the five-minute deadline. Would that count as a failure of
the test?
Stuffing the wet panties in her purse, she left the stall and went to the sink. The woman
she saw in the mirror was flush, her moist eyes lit with the secret of the act she`d just
performed on herself. Did the details show? Would everyone looking at her know what she`d
done with the seemingly innocent bottle?
Carefully she rinsed it off, washing away the evidence of her own complicity, her own
submission. She toweled it dry afterwards, wiping the rough brown paper towels over the
glass. Her movements were painstaking, almost reverent. This was no mere bottle anymore,
it was like a ritual object. A witch doctor`s tool to deflower virgins. Except she wasn`t
anything close to a virgin and hadn`t been in quite some time.
It was as if she were some kind of priestess, lost in a sacred moment. In the back of her
mind she was aware of the time, rushing past, and her own helplessness to stop it, but
that only added to her own sense of rapture.
She was caught up in something and she could not control or predict where it would go.
Back to him, yes, and from there, on to lovemaking. That s what she both wanted and
feared. That`s what she both craved and loathed, all at once.
Full of deliberateness and wonder and lovely wooziness, Chrissy freshened herself a bit,
left the bathroom and returned to the bar, placing the bottle precisely where it had been
next to the man. "I was delayed," she said without apology. "A couple of my
friends came in the bathroom and started talking to me."
He glanced at the bottle, a mere flick out of the corner of his eyes. "That will be
all, Chrissy, you can go now."
Her mouth hung open in total disbelief. No fucking way. After all this, he was going to
give her walking papers. "What is this, some kind of job interview? `Thanks for the
application and all, we`ll get back to you?` I just did something for you, dude. Something
pretty intense and the way I see it"
"The way you see it, you did something of your own free will and now I owe you for
it, is that it?" he interrupted.
Chrissy frowned. He had this way of turning things against her that was getting on her
last nerve. "If you`re trying to make me out to be some kind of selfish bitch, it
won`t work. I came over here to meet you because you seemed like you might be a cool guy.
I thought we could both have a little fun. You`re the one who turned it into some major
head trip."
"Seemed to me you came over here just to impress your girlfriends," he pulled
the rug out from under her. "And when that didn`t work you had to come back a second
time just to make it look as if we were getting along."
Chrissy reeled from the truth blow. "You know what?" She sought to recover
herself. "I don`t even care. I`m willing to just cut my losses right now and go
home."
"Tomorrow at eight," he replied, as always on his own wavelength.
"What are you talking about?"
"I`ll pick you up, tomorrow at eight." He put out his hand. "My name is
Derek, by the way."
Chrissy swallowed hard. His fingers gripped hers, firm, enveloping, warm, promising
delight and more. "You`ll
pick me up?" She stammered.
"Yes. For dinner, assuming you`re interested."
"Oh
well, yes, that would be fine
at eight."
Listen to her, she was sounding like a schoolgirl. Reduced to flushed giggles over the
offer of one little date from a man whom she`d despised just a moment ago.
"Write down your address for me," he slipped her a small pocket pad.
She scribbled the correct letters and numbers, her brain completely oblivious to what her
hand was doing. Should she be telling a stranger where she lived?
"Good, it`s settled, then." He gave her his card, slick and dark blue with
white lettering. "If anything comes up to change your plans, give me a call."
Chrissy nodded, mumbling her thanks. He pulled a billfold from his pocket, peeled off a
fifty-dollar bill and left it to cover his drinks.
"Until tomorrow," he smiled, signaling his goodbye.
Chrissy melted at the expression. It was a real smile. A man`s smile, full of
possibilities. On a handsome face like his, it couldn`t help but make even the most
diehard party girl think of white picket fences and babies to suckle.
"Yes," she agreed, aroused, curious and terrified all at once.
"Tomorrow."
What if he were the one, she thought, watching him wade through the crowd, a prince among
men, a hunter among sheep. What if this was it fate, knocking at her door? There was no
choice but to answer, but how could she know what to expect? It was very possible this man
might want something very different than marriage. He might want only to use her. And she
was apt to give in no matter what the cost.
Either way, no matter what he was after, he was, at this moment, holding all the cards.
Chrissy did not like being in that position one bit. If she were going to have anything to
do with this Derek, she`d have to regain the upper hand.
To do that, she would have to shake things up, leave him on the short end of the stick so
she could start calling the shots. Chrissy looked down at the slick, electric blue
business card with the white lettering.
Derek Trace
Trace Importing and Exporting
"All Things Come and Go"
Several numbers were listed, including a cell phone. Call him, he`d said, if anything
comes up to change her plans. Something would come up all right, she smiled, but she
wasn`t going to be making any calls. Her absence would be entirely unexcused. She`d
apologize afterwards, of course, indicating something pressing had come up a sick friend
or whatever and how she was so sorry she`d lost his business card, but she had so much
on her mind, and to be honest, things had all happened so fast between them, but she would
definitely be open to a rain check very soon. After this she would turn him down a couple
more times till he was chomping at the bit, and finally, like a trainer dangling a little
treat over a dumb animal, she would reward him with an actual, bona fide date.
That would teach him to make her molest herself with bottles. Yes, indeed, Mr. Derek
Trace was about to get a lesson in the Battle of the Sexes, Chrissy Newland style.
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