Strangers
She is looking for someone to act out her fantasy
Inspired by requests and comments from several of my subscribers, this latest addition to my Dark Erotica series deals with themes of aggressive, consensual sex and humiliation. If that is not to your taste, look away now.
The first part of this story is open but the main action is for paid subscribers
Strangers
The woman stood in the middle of the cafe holding her coffee and a plate with a packet of sandwiches on it and looked around. Wearing a smart jacket, white blouse and a neat pinstripe skirt that finished just above the knees of her stocking-clad legs she looked a bit upmarket, a bit too businesslike for this sort of place.
Her eyes scanned the assortment of cabbies and market traders and settled on me. Black high heels clicked on the fake wood floor as she approached my table.
“May I?” she said as she put the coffee and sandwich down and slid back the chair opposite me without waiting for an answer.
She looked at me with curious brown eyes as she ripped open the sandwich wrapper. “What sort of a man are you?” she asked as she took a bite.
I looked at her. She was attractive, fortyish maybe, with glossy dark hair that curled gently down to her shoulders. It was an odd question to ask a stranger. “It depends on who’s asking and which part of me they want to know about,” I said.
“You’re complex - a thinker. I knew my instincts were right.” She took a sip of her coffee and grimaced. “Are you married?”
“Is there something I can do for you?” I leaned forward and stared at her. Her eyes barely blinked. “Or did you just decide to walk into this cafe and interrogate the first person you met?”
“No, I selected you.” Her lips twitched into a slight smile that looked slightly nervous. “And there is something you can do for me.”
I raised my eyebrows and sat back.
“I want you to spank me, use me and fuck me.”
That surprised me. I’m a big bloke: if she’d said murder her husband, beat up an ex-boyfriend or do a little debt collection, I would have been ready with a quick reply, but that left me open-mouthed and looking like a stranded fish.
“Why me?” was all I could think of to say.
“It’s a fantasy I have, being taken by a stranger, and every now and then I make it come true.”
“That still doesn’t answer the question.”
“You are strong, capable of violence, but you don’t overuse it. You have respect for people, including women. You are measured, calm and controlled.”
“You can tell all that from one glance in a cafe? Who are you, the female version of Sherlock Holmes?”
She smiled. “I have noticed you before, but I am a good judge, so yes, I can tell that from the way a man moves, how he speaks, the answers to my questions.” She paused and took a small card out of her handbag. “Do you accept?” she said, holding the card between polished, red fingernails.
“Do you have a safe word, a stop word?”
Her shoulders relaxed, just a hint. That question told her that she had made the right choice. “No, no safe word.” She handed me the card. “Come to this address at eight this evening. There will be no cosy drinks, no chit-chat. We start as soon as you step inside.” She handed me the card and stood up. Smoothing down her skirt she looked down at me. “By the way, my husband will be watching, but will not take part or intervene in any way.”
I watched the beautifully rounded curves of her behind flex as she left the cafe and looked down at her uneaten sandwich.
