Chapter 4

Janet’s third session with Bobby hadn’t been arranged yet. Rhonda had backed off a little, once Janet had seen him again, but was still miffed that Janet didn’t want to talk about what had happened. What Janet found so fascinating was that she thought about Bobby a lot. And the way she thought about him had changed too.

In the past, she had had very brief fantasies about him, based mostly on things Rhonda had said. Such fantasies had been useful in coordination with using her dildo. Now, though, she had some concrete experience of her own, and that played through her mind more and more. The problem was that she couldn’t fit herself into that fantasy. She could visualize him with Rhonda, or at least with a woman who looked a little like Rhonda. But putting herself under him, in the fantasy, still made her feel queasy and uncomfortable. She had no trouble, though, remembering the look of him as he sat there and masturbated, looking at her naked breasts ... which he thought were beautiful.

She was thinking about that, in fact, when a deep male voice said “Hi,” from behind her, where she was stacking bars of Irish Spring soap on a shelf at the IGA.

She felt a flutter in her belly as she recognized that voice, and turned to look at the man she had just been thinking about. Her eyes dipped to his crotch, and then bounced back up as she realized what she was doing.

“Hi,” she said, feeling a little light-headed.

“What are you doing after work, tonight?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said. The flutters intensified, and she almost wished she could say she did have something planned.

“I’d like to come over,” he suggested.

“You would?” she asked, unable to think of any other response.

“Oh yeah,” he sighed. “I’ve been thinking about last time a lot.”

“Me too,” she said, and then wished she hadn’t.

“That’s good,” he said. “I have some ideas for tonight.”

“What kind of ideas?” she asked, as nervousness began to replace the flutter in her stomach.

“Ideas that will make you feel completely in charge,” he said.

She still didn’t know what to say. This time she just kept quiet. He did too, though, waiting for some kind of response. The discomfort of the moment of silence between them was broken by a woman who wanted to ask Janet where the molasses was kept. When she turned back around, Bobby was gone.

Her mind was a riot of questions, fears, and hopes, for the rest of the three hours she had left on her shift. It didn’t get any better as she drove into her driveway and saw him sitting on her porch. He had his tool bag sitting beside him.

“You’re already here,” she said, needlessly, as she walked up to him.

“I wanted us to have plenty of time,” he said.

“Oh,” she said. Not knowing what was going to happen made her stomach lurch.

Again, though, he didn’t do what she expected. When they got inside, he suggested she go change clothes ... take a shower if she wanted to, while he prepared something for them to eat. He’d even brought things to prepare, in a plastic sack inside his tool bag. He moved around in the kitchen, acting completely at home, while she stood and tried to decide if she had the courage to go in her bathroom and take a shower, with him in the house.

It was her desire to be in control, at least of herself, that moved her out of the kitchen, and to her bedroom. She took off her shoes and sat on the bed, just looking at the door for a few minutes. The knob didn’t turn. He didn’t come in. Even after she was in the bathroom, with the water warming up, she couldn’t help but open the door, to see if he’d come to stand outside, once the water was on. But he wasn’t there.

As she stood under the water ... and he didn’t come in ... she felt better and better. She marveled at the fact that he was, apparently, as trustworthy as he wanted her to believe he was. She was alone in her house with him. She thought it was ironic that, if she didn’t know he’d been hired to have sex with her, she wouldn’t have been worried about him at all. But he had been hired to have sex with her. She didn’t understand why that made such a difference, especially since he’d already promised it wouldn’t happen until she wanted it to happen. “Until” That was the probem. He assumed she’d want to ... some day. Still, she was naked, and in the shower and, as he had promised, nothing was happening that she hadn’t approved in advance.

She finally let the hot water wash the stress out of her body, and then stood with her head under the streams of water, imagining that her mistrust of him was being washed out too.

She felt so good when she got out that she did what she thought of as being “dangerous” and put on only her thick terrycloth robe. She combed her hair straight down and left it damp. She’d see what he thought of her this way, without any makeup, and with wet hair.

As soon as she opened the door her nose was assailed by wonderful smells. When she got to the kitchen he was tossing a salad.

“Smells good,” she said. “What is it?”

“Lasagna,” he said. “And garlic bread.”

“You couldn’t possibly have made that while I was taking a shower!” she said, almost her normal self.

“I cheated,” he said. “I made it at home. I’m just warming it up in the oven.”

“You made lasagna?” she asked, amazed.

“Yes,” he said. “I hope you like Lasagna. I like it. I didn’t know what kind of food you liked.”

“I love lasagna,” she said.

“Excellent,” he said.

They ate the salad first, and he didn’t take the lasagna out of the oven until their “first course” was done. He served it piping hot - too hot to eat - and they munched on bread while it cooled.

“This is good!” she mumbled, around her first mouthful of still-hot lasagna.

“Thank you,” he said, grinning. “Mamma taught me how to make it.”

When they were finished, Janet felt content ... full ... relaxed. He hadn’t said anything about how she was dressed, or her hair. He had just accepted her as she appeared.

His change of pace caught her by surprise.

“What are you wearing under that robe?” he asked, his voice casual.

She looked at him for long seconds. “Nothing,” she said, her voice low and soft.

“Mmmm, I like that,” he said.

She sat. The flutters were back. But she knew it wasn’t nervousness.

“Would you let me comb and dry your hair?” he asked.

“Why?” the question was out before she even though about it.

“I like combing my sisters’ hair,” he said, in an offhand manner. “For what I hope we’re going to do tonight, I think you’ll want it dry.”

“What are we going to do?” she asked, the nervousness clear in her voice.

“You’re going to be completely in control of what happens,” he said. “I won’t be able to do anything, unless you let me.”

“How?” she asked. He could do anything he wanted. He was bigger and stronger. Men had always been bigger and stronger.

“I’m going to be tied up,” he said.

She blinked.

“What?” She couldn’t believe what he’d just said.

“I want you to tie me to the bed,” he said. “I won’t be able to move, unless you untie me.”

“That’s ridiculous!” she said. That was perverted! Normal people didn’t go around tying each other up during sex!

“Maybe,” he said, agreeably. “But I want you to do it.”

“No.” She shook her head. “That’s ... that’s abnormal.”

“I’m not going to argue with you about that,” he said. “I’ve never been tied up before. I tied up a woman once, but I’ve never been tied up myself. I just think that if I were restrained, in that way, you’d feel like you could relax. That’s all.”

“You tied up a woman?” Janet asked, her stomach trying to knot around the lasagna in it.

“She wanted me to make love to her,” said Bobby. “But she didn’t want to let me make love to her.” He smiled thinly. “I just gave her an excuse to let things happen. I had it rigged so she could get out whenever she wanted to. She did, eventually, and we never did that again.”

“That’s just so weird,” said Janet.

“I only want you to feel like you’re safe, and that nothing can happen unless you want it to happen,” he said. “I just thought this might be a way for you to feel that way.”

“I don’t know,” said Janet, doubtfully.

“Will you at least give it a try?” he asked. “If it isn’t working, we’ll chalk it up to experience, and try something else.”

The human mind is a complicated thing, and the thoughts that are generated in it aren’t always logical, or even explainable. That’s how Janet would have characterized what was going on as she found herself in her bedroom with Bobby Dalton, who took thick, soft ropes out of his tool bag.

He tossed them negligently on the bed, and seated her at her vanity. Then he used her blow dryer, and a brush. She sat, watching him look at her hair and stroke it over and over, until she felt so relaxed that she felt like she could take a nap. The tug and sweep of the brush was mesmerizing, and his hands on her hair, when he stopped using the blow dryer, were soft and gentle.

Then, he was pulling her up, and she found herself back in the strange world he had created for them, where she was going to tie this man to her bed.

She was in the process of trying to convince herself that the only reason she was doing this was because he said he’d have to be naked, when she tied him to her bed. The prospect of seeing all of him was something she had thought about many times. She loved looking at a well muscled man, and Bobby was that, if nothing else.

Then, when he bared his chest, folding his shirt neatly and putting it on her vanity stool, she found herself holding her breath. It was even better than she’d imagined. He was gorgeous! His pants and underwear followed, and he took off his socks at the same time.

He stood there ... gorgeous and naked ... in her bedroom ... holding those ropes. She never thought once about the fact that he was naked, a foot away from her and she was naked under her robe ... but she wasn’t afraid in the slightest.

When he showed her how to tie a slip knot, she wanted to howl with the ridiculousness of it all. A naked man was standing in her bedroom, teaching her how to tie him up. He didn’t want knots that he could get out of. He made sure she understood that. She watched her own fingers, in complete disbelief, as they tied those knots, and pulled them tight - but not too tight - around his wrists.

She watched in disbelief as he lay on her bed, and put his arms up, so she could tie the other ends of the ropes to her headboard. She almost giggled hysterically as he corrected the knot she tied there.

“Now the ankles,” he said, his voice strong.

She looked at his groin. Maybe it was the fact that he was soft that calmed her down, somehow. Maybe it was sinking in that he was actually going to let her restrain him like this. It occurred to her that, once she did this, she would have complete control over him. She could hurt him if she wanted to. Not that she wanted to, but he was making himself vulnerable. She could call someone to come over and see him like this. It would make him the laughing stock of the town. She didn’t want to do that, either, but he was allowing her the option.

She was also suddenly quite sure he wasn’t a pervert, because a pervert would have been excited about this... would be hard ... and this man wasn’t.

Finally it was done, and she was standing there, looking at the naked man tied to her bed. She had no idea what to do now.

So she just looked at him. She went to the foot of the bed and stared. He really was helpless. She knew that. He could probably tear her headboard apart like it was cardboard, but something in her said he wouldn’t do that. Not unless something was wrong.

As she stared at the muscles on his chest, and arms, he lay there, just looking back at her. He was still soft.

“How do you feel right now?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Strange ... weird, kind of.”

“Do you feel safe?” he asked.

“Perfectly,” she answered instantly.

“Do you feel safe enough to take your robe off?” he asked. His voice was clearly hopeful, almost boyish in its hopefulness.

She cocked her head, looking at this strange man. That he would let himself end up like this ... it bespoke either some strange weakness ... or strength of a kind she hadn’t even imagined a man could have.

She discarded the “weak” theory immediately. This was no weak man. That meant he was strong ... so strong that he would let her be even stronger ... more powerful. For the first time, she really believed all the things he’d said. He really did want her to feel relaxed. He really did want her to understand that he was no threat to her. He really would let her be in control.

It flashed in her mind like a brilliant light. This man cared about her.

She didn’t try to figure out why he cared. She didn’t believe for an instant that his attitude was “professional” somehow, part of being a gigolo. She didn’t believe any man could be that detached. He cared. It was the fact that he cared that took center stage in her mind.

Suddenly, she did feel calm ... in control.

“Do you want me to take my robe off?” she asked.

“Desperately,” he admitted.

“You want to have sex with me, don’t you?” she asked.

“Desperately,” he admitted again.

“Like this?” she asked, pointing at a rope-tied ankle.

“If it has to be this way ... yes,” he said.

“I’ve never done this,” she said.

“I haven’t either.”

Her hands went to the knot on the belt of her robe. She undid it, and let the ends fall. The robe only opened an inch or two. She walked to the side of the bed, close enough that, if he wasn’t restrained, he could reach out and touch her.

But he couldn’t reach out and touch her.

“Is this what you want to see?” she asked, spreading the robe apart.

His eyes raked over her body. She felt a thrill of excitement. He obviously wanted to see her. She’d worked hard to maintain a fit body. She’d often wondered why she bothered; because, deep down inside, she knew she’d never let another man in. Now she was glad she had kept herself fit.

“I want to do more than just see it,” he said.

She looked from his face to his groin. The limp thing moved, even as she stared at it.

“That’s beginning to be obvious,” she said.

“I’m getting hard,” he said, needlessly.

“I know,” she said.

“It’s for you,” he said.

“Because of me,” she corrected.

“No ... for you.”

She looked back at his face, one eyebrow raised.

“I’d like it very much if you touched it,” he said.

Somehow, it was easier to let the robe slide down off her shoulders and arms, than close it. She felt another thrill as she stood, equally naked. He licked his lips. She looked at his penis. It was hard, now, standing up and leaning drunkenly to one side, and up a little.

She could play with that interesting thing ... if she wanted to. He wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. She could touch it ... or not.

She decided she wanted to touch it.

She was fascinated. Her fingertips drifted over the heavy sack that held his balls. She’d never had the time ... or inclination, really ... to just look at a man’s balls. There had always been too much hurry going on ... too much “Let’s get on with the good stuff!”

She marveled at the tiny, soft hairs that sprouted from that sack. She pushed a finger at the bag, and saw something round move inside it. She knew how sensitive that little round thing was, so when she gripped it, through the skin of the sack, she was gentle. It was slippery in there. That sack was heavy ... full.

He hadn’t said a word. He just lay there and let her explore. His penis was next. It looked so odd to her, with its loose covering of skin, and the shiny part peeking out, with its one Cyclops eye. It bobbed when she pushed at it, and then returned to its former position, like a drunken soldier, trying to stand at attention, and not quite making it fully upright.

Very carefully she reached, to grip it. It was hot. She didn’t remember her ex-husbands’ feeling hot like that. That loose skin moved, and she pushed with her hand, uncovering the knob. Her hand ran into his body, and she had to get another grip, to make that loose skin go all the way down. Now it looked like the ones she had seen before.

She let go, and watched the skin creep back upwards, all by itself. It caught at the back of the knob, and she teased it with her fingertips, until it rolled over the crown, and seemed to ooze back toward the tip. She giggled as she thought of the movie “The Blob”, which she had seen at the movie house in Hutchinson, when she was only thirteen, and which had scared her to death. She remembered hiding behind the seat in front of her, feeling like she was five, instead of the woman she had wanted to think of herself as.