Chapter 38: Traps for the unwary

Finding another man like Doug was not proving easy.

Janelle and Sue frequented The Twilight Zone on several further occasions, just to hang and see what might be in the offing. Janelle thought she might have finally hit pay-dirt with Arthur, who looked so normal in that weirdo milieu that he caught Janelle's eye instantly.

Arthur was forty-something, business-suited, and looked like he'd just popped in from an executive board meeting. Handsome, though a little balding, he matched the same demographic as Doug. Which was probably why Janelle decided to investigate further. Simply turning up in a place like The Zone had to mean that he was "out there". It was kinda obvious from the clientele that one didn't stop by here merely for a quiet drink on the way home from work.

Janelle looked at him directly. Unabashedly. Let him know immediately that she knew what his game was, and challenged him to admit it. Just like she'd done with Doug in the corridors of his high-finance kingdom.

His response was to look down, look away, avoid the lie-detector test of her gaze. Avoid being exposed, or forced to admit the nature of his fantasies. A response that by itself gave the game away.

Because he had indeed been fantasizing, and well he might because Janelle was dressed in typically predatory fashion in leathers and spiked heels, showing lots of cleavage. She'd spotted him surreptitiously checking her out.

His shyness, and his clear intimidation by her glance, set Janelle's pulse racing. It was obvious he'd not come face to face with a woman quite like her before. Or if he had, then he clearly hadn't learned how to deal with it.

Janelle patted the barstool next to her. Sue, catching on, got up and moved away to a discreet distance.

He gave Janelle a "Wot? Who? Me?" kind of a look, so Janelle repeated the gesture.

"Hello" he said over the music. No mean feat, as it was pretty techno. White noise, with a thudding beat. He slid onto the stool, and looked ahead at the mirror-backed bar. All the better to see her cleavage in their reflection, no doubt.

Janelle said nothing. She just looked at him. Straight in the eye.

"Look" he said finally, "I'm not really used to this nightclub scene. Do you wanna go for a quiet coffee somewhere?"

Janelle looked across at Sue, who simply waved a discreet "Goodnight, see ya later".

Thanks Sue, Janelle found herself thinking. So understanding, and supportive.

That coffee shop, the one with the deep plush booths, came in handy yet again. The two of them spilled out of a cab and went inside. They hadn't said anything more as yet. He was clearly quite nervous, and Janelle was happy for him to remain so for the time being.

Settled in a private corner, Janelle spent the first couple of minutes just looking at him. He met her gaze from time to time, but only briefly, and mostly he kept his eyes downcast or looking across the room.

Janelle secretly thrilled at his discomfort. Exulted at the reactions she was getting, merely by looking at him impassively. She could feel a flush of excitement beginning. A feeling of blood running hot at the back of her neck.

A feeling of anticipation.

Finally, Janelle spoke.

"So... why did you come tonight?"

"Here? Or the Zone?"

"The Zone."

"I'm... looking."

"For what?"

"A strong woman."

"Why?"

"I want to put myself into her hands. I'd like to serve her, and pleasure her."

"In everything? Or sexually?"

"Sexually. The thought of being utterly used by a real mean bitch is something I find very exciting."

He was looking straight into her eyes now, as he made this statement. It was genuine.

Janelle considered for a time.

"Used... how?"

"So that she can get off on me. However she wants. Use me as her tool."

"You seem to have given it a lot of thought. Have you done this kind of thing before?"

"Yes, but not much."

"Why? What happened?"

"Stuff kinda fizzled out after a couple of encounters. It can be hard to make the right connections for this kind of thing."

Tell me 'bout it! - Janelle mused to herself.

"Okay, next question. Why did you come with me here, now?"

"Because you look like you could easily be a mean bitch."

"So, that's what you want from me. What do you offer?"

"Servitude."

"You think that's what I want?"

"I don't yet know what you want."

"I want a love slave."

"What does that entail?"

Janelle recited, as if from heart. Which it was.

"You belong to me. You can't have sex with anyone else. We spend time together. You can't touch any part of me unless I tell you to, but I can touch you anywhere, at any time and in any place. You may have to masturbate yourself while I or others watch you. I can tie you up, and fuck you however I want. My pleasure comes first, before your own. And you have to share everything with me. Be honest with all your innermost thoughts."

Now it was his turn to consider.

"That's a tall order."

"It's all or nothing."

Another silence, as he toyed with his coffee cup.

"Okay. When do we start?"

"We start now. You can pay for the coffee."

He did, and as he stood waiting for his change, she put him to his first test. She gripped his jaw between thumb and forefinger, turned his face toward hers, and kissed him hungrily on the mouth in very possessive fashion. He tasted fresh. A non-smoker. Good. The cashier looked on in amazement at the sheer animal lust of Janelle's gesture. Arthur's eyes had widened momentarily in alarm, but he remained stoic. Also good.

Out on the street, they hailed another cab.

Before Janelle could even raise the subject of venue, he interjected "Your place."

Janelle had been about to suggest his place, but shrugged and gave her address to the cabbie.

On the way home, Janelle said "By the way, I'm Janelle."

"I'm Arthur," he responded.

She put her hand on Arthur's crutch and gave it a squeeze. He visibly winced at the sudden pressure on his scrotum. The cabbie caught this in his rearview mirror, and Janelle saw his eyebrows arch somewhat.

So far, things had been quite straightforward. Amazingly so. Offer, and acceptance. As simple as that. Janelle wondered, would they really turn out to be so well matched? So... yin and yang?

In her apartment, she bade him slip out of his suit jacket and sit on her little sofa while she dug around in her bag of tricks.

What would be a good initiation into Janelle-ism? Ah, yes. Handcuffs. Tried and true. And leather straps for his ankles.

She held them up for him to see.

"I'm going to restrain you. Are you okay with that?"

"I guess."

"How are you feeling?"

"Anxious. But excited."

"Excited, about what?"

"Janelle, you're a goddess! You got a figure to die for! And you've chosen to get your rocks off on me - I feel so unworthy!"

"And so you should. But I'll be the judge of your worthiness."