Chapter 2

In the morning Jarrod and I both tried to behave as if nothing unusual happened last night. But all those unanswered questions hung in the air. There was definitely an elephant in the room.

I was dying to ask him about last night. But I didn’t even know what to ask! No. That’s a lie. I know what to ask, I just don’t have the nerve to say the words.

I finally gave up and went upstairs to finish getting ready for work. When I came back down Jarrod was getting ready to leave. He took me in his arms and kissed me. It was the most passionate goodbye kiss we’ve shared in a long time. He held me in his arms and in a voice that, unlike his normal dispassionate goodbye, was so sincere when he said, “I love you. See you tonight.”

I stared at him as he walked away. I’m so confused I was unable to speak. It’s like he has fallen in love with me all over again after watching a large black man grab my ass last night! I’m so confused.

After Jarrod left I made sure the coffee pot was turned off. I rounded up my purse and briefcase and went out to the garage. All the way to work I wondered what it would be like between Blake and me today at the office. We hadn’t really done anything. He discovered my porn and learned about my fantasies but all he did was hold the cheek of my ass in his hand for a while as my husband smiled and watched. I permitted it. My husband permitted it. But that was all he did.

That was all except that he had checked out my reading material and he had been given an open window into my mind. But was that my mind? I mean, are those really my fantasies? Or could it be just as simple as I was merely enjoying some dirty stories I came across? I can’t possibly want to experience those things! I don’t think. I never really contemplated doing any of the things I’ve been reading about. Just as important, does Jarrod actually want to see me being dominated, being used by a large, dominant black man? I’ve never had any indication he has fantasies like that. Now that I think about it though, we’ve never discussed our fantasies. I have no idea what kinds of kinky things might excite him.

As I pulled into the parking lot at work my head was still spinning with questions.

I’m nervous about seeing Blake this morning. But we now share an office. I’m responsible for training him. When I got to my office he was already there. He looked up and smiled impersonally, like nothing happened last night and he said good morning. We went right to work and as we sat at my desk going over files and sipping coffee I started to think grabbing my ass last night had been an aberration. Something that happened because of a little too much alcohol and my carelessness in leaving an erotic story open on my computer where it could be, and was, discovered.

We were on our second cup of coffee when his hand moved behind me and he moved his chair closer to mine. I stopped breathing when his hand came to rest on my shoulders, just below my neck.

He never even looked at me, though. He continued to look at the file we’re going over and talk as if his hand was not gently rubbing my shoulders.

I felt my nipples harden instantly and my breathing became shallow. I knew I should put a stop to this, especially here in the office. But I didn’t say a word and I don’t even know why. Maybe because it’s so exciting ... or maybe because of the unusually passionate kiss I got from Jarrod this morning.

The file was quickly forgotten. Our office door is closed and there’s very little likelihood we’ll be disturbed. He doesn’t know that, though. This is his first day on the job. He doesn’t have any idea how often people might drop in to see me. He doesn’t seem to care, either.

His hand gradually worked down my back again, much quicker than it had last night. When his fingertips rested on the cheeks of my ass and he was gently massaging them he leaned closer and said, “Tell me about those stories you read.”

Oh god! What can I say?! What does he want me to say?

I paused for a long time, trying to marshal my thoughts. I paused long enough that he brought his hand around, rested it on my upper thigh and squeezed hard.

I gasped and he repeated in a much firmer voice, “Tell me about those stories.”

In a breathless voice, almost a whisper, I asked, “Tell you what? What do you want to know?”

He loosened his grip on my thigh and said, “What was the first story you read? Tell me about it.”

Oh god! Can I really do this?! Can I have this conversation with this strong, virile man who now seems to be totally in control? But then, how can I not? Answering his question will be humiliating. So why do I get the impression I want to do just that?! Do I want to be embarrassed, humiliated? Do I want this man to know what turns me on? Do I want more than that?

I know that the minute I start telling him about that story I’ll be submitting to him. The flirting, what little of it there had been, will be over. He’ll know as soon as I begin to speak that he has me. Is that what I want? Is that what Jarrod wants?

I feel his fingers moving on my leg, gently moving up and down my thigh, getting closer to my supersensitive crotch with each movement. I looked down at his large, black hand caressing my leg and I know it’s so wrong. I also know I want it. I want him to touch me ... everywhere.

He took his hand away and said, “Before you start, lift your dress up. I want to feel your soft skin.”

The shaky feeling that washed over me in the pool last night was enveloping me again. I’m tingling all over and breathing is becoming more difficult all the time. As if I was totally without free will I reached down and eased my skirt up to just below my crotch.

He watched me obey his order and when I stopped he said, “Higher, all the way up.”

And I obeyed once more!

I lifted my skirt until most of my panties were exposed. He looked down, shook his head in disgust and commanded, “Take those damn things off. I hate them. Don’t ever wear pantyhose again. That’s an order.”

An order! He’s telling me what to wear, or rather what not to wear! This man I less than twenty-four hours ago is ordering me to remove one of my undergarments, and never wear it again.

I’m not sure what I was thinking. I pushed my chair back slowly and rose to stand on legs which only just barely seem capable of supporting me. I stepped away from my desk and I could feel the blood rushing through my veins as I slowly started to walk to the door.

Blake asked, “Where are you going, Paula?”

I turned to face him but I can’t look him in the eyes. I stared down at the floor and whispered, “To the ladies’ room. I’m going to ... you know. I’m going to do what you said.”

I felt like a little girl in the principal’s office. I feel small and helpless. I’m incapable of independent thought. And I’m sorry Jarrod, but I’m more turned on than I’ve ever been in my life!!

He said, “I didn’t give you permission to leave the room. Come back over here.”

I went back around my desk and stood in front of Blake. In a halting voice I said, “But ... I thought ... don’t you want me to...?”

He shook his head as if he’s trying to be very patient with the moron he’s forced to deal with. In the voice one might use when speaking to a very young and not very intelligent child he said, “Lift your skirt up to your waist and pull your pantyhose down. Throw them away and return to your seat with your skirt up around your waist.”

I stared at him for a second in disbelief, until he raised his voice and commanded, “Do it! Now!”

He didn’t seem at all surprised when I obeyed. But I certainly am! I lifted my skirt to my waist and after struggling for a moment to get a grip on the waistband I started rolling my pantyhose down. I had them down to about mid thigh when he said, “You might as well go ahead and take your underwear off, too. You won’t be wearing panties anymore, either.”

I hesitated for a few long seconds. I had not been a virgin when I married. I’ve had half a dozen lovers since I lost my virginity in my sophomore year of high school. I don’t think that’s a lot. But until I got married I never undressed in front of a man. My previous boyfriends always struggled with my clothes while we kissed until they had me undressed enough to have sex, usually in the backseat of a car parked in the woods somewhere. I always enjoyed it, too. I got a thrill from the kissing and the touching, even when I didn’t reach orgasm which was more often than not.

I had not actually stood in front of a man and undressed until I was married. And even though it was exciting, it was not something I was comfortable doing for at least six months after my wedding, maybe longer.