The error was unforgivable, especially for someone who prided herself on being so careful. I told myself it was the carelessness itself that was bothering me, and not my bruised ego.
I was, I told myself, above having my feelings hurt when I read what she’d said about me in an email to a different playmate. As far as she knew, her email meant for the “kinky M&A man” had not accidentally gone to me instead. The bulk of the email was mundane, but she did mention that she’d be seeing me today, and that she hoped I’d do better than the first time. “I mean, he practically had to ask permission to push me around. I thought he was going to stutter when he tried to call me a whore. Maybe this time the principal won’t be so polite.”
Polite principal.
Who was I kidding. My feelings were hurt. Our first and so far only time together had been my first time being so rough with a woman. By my standards anyway. Slapping her ass, pulling her hair as I fucked her from behind. It was hardly my fault if it took me a while to acclimate to kink, to make up for twenty-three years of my sex always being “polite.”
Polite. I’d show her polite. I was almost at the door of the hotel room. I paused. Could I hear her inside? Had she even figured out her mistake yet? I knocked.
When she opened the door, Rachel looked great. A black sheath dress, high heels, understated jewelry. Black hose or stockings. No perfume. Her hair was carefully coiffed. Maybe she wasn't too worried about it getting excessively mussed, since I was so polite. She produced a radiant smile. She looked fucking fantastic. “Nick, I'm ready for my tune-up.”
I didn’t answer or even smile as I came in, which prompted a frown of confusion. The frown turned into something else, a gasp of surprise, of excitement when I brusquely shoved her against the wall, spinning her as I did, pushing her face against the decoratively pebbled paint of the midtown hotel-room wall.
“Ow! You're hurting me!”
I couldn’t read her tone, and for a moment I hesitated, before realizing it would be my last hesitation. If she wanted me to stop, she could just say the damn safe word.
I didn’t respond. I just pressed my forearm against the back of her neck, pinning her against the wall, harder. She let out a soft moan, which could have been pleasure as easily as pain.
With my free hand I pulled up the hem of her dress, revealing her trim elegant legs, sheathed in black stockings after all. Her panties were black lace.
“Did I do a good job with the stockings, Nick? Like you said?” She could feel my breath at her nape. She tried to twist to kiss me, but I held her firm.
Yes, she’d worn stockings, but I’d told her with a garter belt. Another game? Oh, Nick, I didn’t get it quite right, did I? Are you going to punish me for being a bad girl?
In a calm voice that didn’t conceal my annoyance, I said, “I told you with a garter belt. How hard is it to get that right?”