Dirty Dates by Rachel Kramer Bussel

Author:Rachel Kramer Bussel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Dirty Dates
ISBN: 9781627781503
Publisher: Cleis Press
Published: 2015-03-11T16:00:00+00:00

MAGIC WORDS

Emily Bingham

When I hear the front door being pulled shut and locked, then the noise of a car pulling away, I know it’s time. In preparation for this moment I’ve dressed in a white sweater, a plaid skirt that barely covers my behind, and matching argyle kneesocks. After dressing up, I have nothing to do in this empty room except wait.

It’s hard to tell how long I’ve been waiting. Every noise puts me on edge with the hope that it will be the signal that I can leave this room. My heart races each time the house settles or a car door slams on the street outside the window. I’ve been thinking of the sound for so long that it seems like a figment of my imagination at first.

As I finally lift myself from the chair, the air of the room passes over my bare upper legs, bringing my attention to the wetness between them. I run one finger along my labia, shocked at how excited I am. I blush as I realize that daydreaming about the events I’ve agreed to has made such an impression.

This provides the motivation I need to pull open the door and slowly make my way down the hall; the door at the end of it both beckons and threatens. The anticipation was torture but now that it’s over I’m nervous to find out what happens next. I close my eyes while resting my hand on the doorknob, taking in my last moment of solitude.

Once I swing the door open to expose the room on the other side, my stomach drops. Aside from walls lined with books, the floor-to-ceiling window near the desk and the large leather chair at the center of this office, the room is empty.

I feel a bit heartbroken. All that waiting for nothing? It isn’t until I turn to leave the room that I hear the floor creak and notice the top of his head resting against the back of the chair. He’s so still I overlooked him.

“Leave the door open and come sit in my lap.” His voice is deep and calm. It passes through me, causing a chill as I acknowledge I’m willing do every little thing he asks. When he speaks I feel half-hypnotized, unable to deny him. The wetness between my legs increases as I walk toward him.

It isn’t fear that makes me slow to cross the room. My concern is the things I am likely to ask him for, the way I asked for this afternoon’s game. He has a way about him that makes it safe to say or do the filthiest things. He makes me want to let every deviant thought jump from my lips and into his ear with the hope he will help make it come true.

I feel like the shy schoolgirl I’m dressed as while coming around the front of the chair where he can see me. I sense him shift his weight to sit upright but I can’t bring myself to look up and meet his eyes.

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