Beginning

Holding her hands in mine, arms outstretched, I backed through the archway into the living room. She walked forward, following my progress toward the large overstuffed chair.

I sat down in the chair and positioned her on the ottoman facing me; and placed her hands on her knees. She sat calmly, seemingly comfortable with her nakedness.

I pulled her list from my shirt pocket and read it over. Then I read it out loud, watching her reactions.

I handed her the list, “Read the two immediate goals out loud.”

She did.

“Okay, let’s begin. Tell me about the first goal.”

Ready Now

Came from here

Noticing how calm and compliant she was, I continued to circle around her. I moved from in front of her, to behind her, stopping there, looking at the back of her head.

Calm and quiet, I didn’t make a sound, she turned her head left, then right, looking for me. I traced fingers through her hair, her whole body shivered.

I walked around in front of her again and lifted her chin with the tip of my finger and smiled at her. I put my hands out to her and she put hers in mine and I lifted her up.

Starting

On so many occasions she had walked by my shop, and I’d smile, and say, “Hey. Hello.”

She would half-smile and keep walking, sometimes looking back, sneaking a peek.

And now, here she was, sitting on the edge of my desk, looking shy, nervous. What was she doing here? Sitting in her little plaid schoolgirl skirt with charcoal gray knee socks, her tender thighs open slightly, offering a tempting space.

I put my hand on the inside of her left knee and she jumped a little. But as I moved my hand up her inner thigh, she opened even further.

Noticing

"Yes." she said.

I let go of her chin, resumed circling around her, examining; bothering her attention, noticing. I noted the smooth soles of her feet, her high arches.

I grabbed a handful of hair, holding her head back, noticing her face. She stared up, half smiling, three quarters fearful. I let go her hair and her head flopped back down.

I moved around to her side, noticing the curves of her uplifted breasts, perky nipples.

Circling further, I noticed how her thighs were parted, opened, glimpsing the glistening darkness of her pubes, full and fluffy.

Was she really ready?

Calmed Down

She sat quietly on the floor while I circled around looking her over, her head bowed downward.

“Look up here.”

I reached down and touched her shoulder. Her skin was warm, but her nipples were hard and her breasts were covered in goosebumps. She shivered at my touch.

I trailed my hand in her tousled hair, tightly gripping a handful and she whimpered. She blushed when I stood in front of her, staring at her untrimmed pubes, (unusual for a girl her age).

Grabbing her chin I lifted her face up and looked into her eyes, “Are you ready now?”

Sit

“Gather yourself up.”

She collected her things and we walked out. She slid into the passenger’s seat and as I drove off, she just sat quietly.

When we got to my house, I took her wrist and walked her in. She handed me her purse and stood nervously in the middle of the room.

“Stand right there.”

I went and adjusted the heat, poured myself a glass of wine and returned to her.

I lifted her top off over her head, then pulled off her shorts and panties. Finally, I removed her sandals. She stood there, wonderfully naked.

“Sit down.”

Building Heat

“Sit up, nice and straight, back against the booth.”

She smiled, shifting.

“Put your feet flat on the floor, fingers interlaced, on the table.”

I glanced down and saw her toes, even with each other, about 12 inches apart.

“Sit very still.”

After a few minutes I said, “Reposition yourself and cross one leg over the other, nice and snug.”

She shifted around, complying.

“Now, start rocking your upper foot.”

I could feel the tip of her toe brushing against my trousers as it moved to and fro. I looked at her face; her eyes were beginning to glaze over.

The Fire

"The game is called Submission, perhaps you are familiar with it?"

She shook her head, "No."

"I will take this list and make a plan, to guide you through the accomplishment of these goals. Your side of this bargain is to follow my suggestions; sometimes they will be obvious and easy, other times you will not want to do as I instruct, and you will rebel.

"You’ll tell me your objection and we'll discuss it, then you’ll do as I instruct."

"And if I still don't want to do what you tell me to?"

"Then the game can be over."

Frying Pan to Fire

We sat staring at each other. Finally I reached down, spun the list around and read it.

“So, you wrote this list, sent it to me, came here, all of your own volition? I guess this means something to you?”

She nodded her head.

“You are a very young girl to have such an extensive list; you must have had very liberal parenting?”

Again she nodded her head.

“Being allowed to do what ever you want lacked the discipline necessary to learn to make good, informed choices?”

She continued nodding her head.

“So, do you want to play a game?”

Applying the Heat

“Again?”

She looked down, avoiding my gaze, not looking at the pack of cigarettes.

Softly, looking down into her lap, “Yes, but I don’t want to stop smoking. Who are you to make me?”

I sat the pack aside, reached across the table and lifted her chin until our eyes met.

“Who am I? You think I’m trying to make you stop smoking? I’m asking you, ‘Why are you smoking?’ ”

She looked confused. I continued, shaking her chin slightly and tapping the list, “Who are you to make this little girl do these things she doesn’t want to do?”

Please.Don't.Stop

He caressed my shoulder while we watched a movie, (nice). His hand moved down to my breast, but I pushed it away. Soon his hand was at my neck, teasing, slipping down again onto my breast, “Stop it.”

I moved away; escaped across the room. He followed, pinned me against the wall, arm across my chest, hand up under my dress. I jerked his arm down, “No!”

He slapped me, (stunned), then grabbed my throat, clutching hard. His mouth sought mine; I deflected, trying to squirm away.

I pressed my elbow into his chest, speaking loudly, sternly, “I mean it!”

Heating Up, Again

There she was, sitting in the specified booth looking very much self-absorbed. I walked in and stood at the end of the table until she looked up, and said, “Hello.”

I slid into the opposite seat and recognized the printed list. I also recognized that same tank top, affording me that same delicious view.

“I see you’ve brought the list.”

She smiled nervously, “Yes.”

Reflexively she reached into her purse for a pack of cigarettes. I caught her hand, and took the pack from her, holding it in the air, twisting and turning, slowly, in the space between us.

“Again?”

Tempering the Heat

I checked my email Saturday night; there was nothing from the mystery girl. I wasn’t surprised or particularly concerned, I suspected she’d default on the timing of the assignment, either out of reticence or because of the complexity.

I busied myself with weekend chores, had dinner with friends and got to bed early Sunday night in anticipation of a long hard week ahead. I checked my mail again on Sunday morning, still nothing - mid-day nothing, even Sunday night, nothing. It tickled me, imagining her mental gymnastics.

I checked again Monday morning, there it was, “Possible Improvements”, with an apology.

Turning Up the Heat

When I got to my car, I saw her sitting in hers, opening a pack of cigarettes. I pulled up beside her, driver-door to driver-door.

“Hello, I noticed you in the store a few minutes ago.”

She smiled, “Yes, I noticed you too, bold statement, ‘Not yet’.”

“Give me the pack of cigarettes.”

She offered them and I tossed them onto my dash.

“By 9 o’clock send me your list of other bad habits, and two things you want to improve,” and I gave her my business card.

She looked off-guard, confused, but nodded her agreement, and I pulled away.

The Heat of Summer

I was looking for Gatorade and trail mix. Rounding the corner heading to the checkout station what I found was a lovely raven-haired girl. She was wearing skimpy volleyball shorts, barely covering her well rounded buttocks, and a deeply slit cotton tank top.

We got to the line at the same time. Nodding, I stepped aside. She smiled softly, and silently stepped forward. I placed my items on the conveyor belt and looked her over. My eyes were drawn to the complex compound curves of her cleavage.

The cashier glanced at her, then addressed me, “Are you together?”

“Not yet.”

I can't hear you

She’d been all for this game when my hand was clamped onto the back of her neck. And also when I had harshly squeezed her breast, although she'd grimaced and squirmed. And when I’d teased her navel and combed through her pubic hair, she was fine, giggly even.

Now she was balking. She held my wrist, pulling down. But I continued to push up forcefully, fingers pressing in against her throbbing veins.

“Let go of my wrist.”  Her body shuddered in response but her grip slackened.

I put my lips to her ear and whispered, “Are you ready to continue?”

with or without

I was settled in my favorite Adirondack chair, reading a book. It was late afternoon and there was a breeze rustling through the trees, sending leaves skittering across the patio, against the house.

She was on a chaise-lounge, legs tucked up to one side, working on a needlepoint project. She was absent-mindedly humming an indistinguishable tune.

Suddenly I rapped my knuckles on the arm of the chair and she looked up.

Indicating a spot directly in front of my chair, I spoke softly, “Come here.”

She got up and came over.

I leaned back into the chair, “Lift your skirt.”