Chapter 5: The Fifth Week

She had not told me to make coffee on Monday the next week, but I stood eagerly by the machine all the same, just waiting for her. And after a few minutes of breathless anticipation, she came. By now I had learned to recognize the sound of her heels, like a dog does his master's footsteps, and I was short of breath and had an ever so slight bulge in my pants when she finally slid into view.

"Good morning, coffee boy," she said brightly, the first words she had spoken to me since she ordered silence. "You may bring the cups to my office."

I followed her down the corridor with one cup in each hand. She stopped by an office door, and I glanced candidly at the sign: Finally I knew her name!

Her office was decorated in a stylish, pleasant and feminine manner. It was neat and ordered, not a dump like mine. There were two chairs on opposite sides of her large desk.

She sat down behind the desk, and looked challenging at me. I placed her cup in front of her, but made no move to sit down.

"Please," she said, an amused smile on her lips, "take a seat."

I sat down eagerly, almost spilling the contents of my cup in the process.

"So," she began after taking a sip of coffee. "Who are you, and why do you have this urge to make me coffee?"

Then we started talking. She told me about herself: She was nine years older than me, she was divorced, and she lived downtown in an apartment. She did not hate her job as much as she liked to pretend, she played squash and enjoyed culture and classical music.

I gave her the most important details about me, and we talked about this and that until our cups were empty. She was intelligent, intellectual, friendly, and open. I liked that. But there was also a demanding, or strict, tone hiding just under the surface. Right now I liked that even more.

"So, why this obsession with coffee?" she said, finally.

"Well ... I don't have an obsession with coffee, as such," I replied.

"No?" she said, fixing me with her eyes.

"No," I said, looking away, my ears burning.

"Then maybe," she laughed, "I can identify what your obsession is. Should I do that?"

"Huh?" I said.

She waited with polite interest.

I finally had to speak. "Yes, please do!"

She smiled once more. "Could you lean forward?" she asked me.

I did as she asked, so that my head was now poised over her desk and my face looked downwards, losing sight of her.

Then I saw her hand appear, touching my shirt. Gingerly, slowly she took hold of my purple tie, and pulled it lightly towards her. I followed as soon as I felt the slightest pressure around my throat, my butt just leaving the seat. Then she placed her empty styrofoam cup onto the end of the tie. She released both tie and cup and took at step back to admire me where I was sitting leaning uncomfortably forwards.

"Now you just have to sit there until I remove that cup," she said in her pleasant voice. "Am I right?"

"Yes," I breathed. "Yes, you are." I was rock hard, this was something I had dreamed about for years, and now it was finally happening! I didn't give a damn about if anyone should see me like this, all I wanted for her to ... to ... to just continue doing what she wanted to me!

"Nice to know, my dear!" Her laughter tinkled in my year as she took the cup away. "But we can't play anymore today, I'm afraid. I have a meeting now, and you probably should get back to your office!"

After work, for the rest of the week, I would wear nothing but my purple tie as I closed my eyes and dreamed of what she might have done to me.