The Meeting
“What will you do for sex?” he asked.
They first met at a Pizza store, he was late from meetings and lazy to cook, so had stopped for takeaway, and she had just dropped off hubby at the airport, hubby was away for a week on business. They fell into conversation and changed numbers after the knowledge of an absent hubby was whispered in confidence.
It was meant to be in jest, but soon turned into an earnest discussion. “What will you do for sex?” They laughed, and he smiled, and she giggled a lot. He asked what she liked in bed, she did not know, or was uncertain she could share with him.
“What porn do you like?” he asked in the voice conspirators should always use, and, as they both giggled, she checked her hair, and flicked it out of her face.
So the porn where women were made to crawl always pleased her. She confessed and blushed.
“I love to do that,” He whispered, “Does he?”
His question was asked as he tapped the wedding ring. She did not pull away her hand, and his finger lingered just a moment longer than was necessary, and he drew a sensual line from the ring to her finger tip, and then removed his hand. The suggestion was complete.
“Never you mind!” she replied with false indignity, but after a pause and a guilty smile, she shook her head to the negative.
He laughed with a soft and seductive twist. Mariana flashed a beautiful smile and shyly hid it as quickly as it appeared. The man announced their orders were ready, and they left together. He had the panel van there and popped open the back doors. The van was empty and when he threw open the back door, he lingered there. She looked into the van and made a comment about how much space was available.
“I could kidnap you!” he threatened.
She shuddered, not in fear, but in unexpected excitement. Part of her would love to be kidnapped and owned, but her head pushed her away and she let him kidnap her numbers only, and she had his.
So then came her call, a month later.
“Where is hubby?” he whispered.
“Travelling…”
“Pizza?” he asked after a long pause.
“Oh I need a favour,” she said after a pause, cash, she needed cash.
He knew the demons of money, knew that they would always find him to ask, beg or demand. It immediately disappointed him, but he remembered the connection, remembered her smell, slight build, tiny mouth and olive skin. She stood up firm, erect back, and then he remembered she liked to crawl, liked to be made to crawl.
“7’000.”
He knew it was a cheek! But how to take advantage? She liked to crawl? Right?
“I’ll give you 12’000! But…”
“You have to perform 12 Tasks. I’ll give you 1’000 for each Task. Just like the 12 Tasks of Hercules! What do you think?” he continued, the Hercules reference a homage to her Greek roots.
“So 12 sex Tasks…?” She asked nervously.
“Oh no. No. These Tasks will never include sex between us!” His cool manner somehow reassured her, and excited her.
“So we will not have…” she paused too long.
“We will have sex! You and I, we will have sex, but that will be in between your Tasks! Your twelve Tasks. These Tasks will take at least eight hours, and I will need your body for all that time. So do you accept the challenge?”
Sunday was a few days away, and their messages flooded time, and imagination, but she finally agreed, but like most women, her mind went spinning. What if he does not pay me? He agreed to pay 1’000 after every Task. What if… What if… what if… You can quit any Task and leave whenever you want. Take what money you have made, and leave.
