Chapter
One
| The room
she stood in was vast, quiet and dim, and the windows running from floor
to ceiling on two sides gave her a magnificent view of the city spread
out before her, while insulting her from the din of the streets below.
From here on the fortieth floor she thought she could make even make out
her own building, not far, but for all the connection she felt with it
now it had might as well be on the moon. This is what the world looks like when you're rich she thought. Like a big, shiny toy, wound up and set to running just for your own amusement. As large as it was, the room gave off a muted sense of wealth and refinement that enclosed her like a cocoon in air conditioned serenity. It tastefully exuded wealth, old, established money, comfortable with itself. The colors and fabrics were expensive but unobtrusive; the furniture seemed too good to use, and the art on the walls complimentied the mood perfectly, evoking just the right level of interest and appreciation from her as she strolled about, trying to appear at home, as if this kind of wealth were nothing new to her. The signatures on the paintings were all recognizable to her, and she was no expert. Whoever lived here had impeccable taste and the welath to indulge it. "Miss Alexander?" The voice, as soft and pleasing as the room itself, belonged to an stunning oriental girl who entered from a large door at the far end, mid to late twenties perhaps, with the form and the grace of a professional model yet without the studied artificiality. Her dark hair was done up in a businesslike way, and she wore an exquisitely cut suit of a subtle yet striking sapphire blue. In her hand she carried a leather folder. She maintained her expression of polite but professional pleasure as she silently crossed the vast expanse of thick pile carpet to Zoe's side, her hand extended. "How do you do," she said, taking Zoe's hand, "I'm Miss Liu, the Doctor's personal assistant. It's so good of you to come." "Thank you, Miss Liu." Zoe said. "I couldn't very well stay away." Miss Liu gave her a sly smile of understanding, and guided her to a leather sofa. "Please, sit. Can I get you anything? Tea, a soft drink, alcohol, anything at all?" "Thank you, no, I'm fine." "As you wish, but if you change your mind at any time, please feel free." Miss Liu sat down on a matching sofa to Zoe's right, her folder on her lap. "Now why don't we dispense with first things first. You have the money fragments and the invitation?" "Yes." Zoe said. "Right here." She reached into her purse and withdrew the cream colored envelope and handed it to Miss Liu, who bowed slightly in acknowledgement. Zoe had received the envelope two days before, addressed in the girl’s own hand. Miss Liu opened the envelope and glanced at the invitation, then reached inside and withdrew the seven fifty-dollar bills. Or rather, the five fragments of fifty-dollar bills, for each bill had been cut neatly in two so as to be worthless without its missing half. She now produced these missing portions from the leather folder, spreading them out on the table, and arranged them so that each half met its match. "There." she said. "Three-hundred and fifty dollars. Would you like to check the serial numbers?” Zoe looked at her warily and then shook her head. She could tell the halves matched. The girl gave a subtle bow of acknowledgement. “Just be certain that you join each with its proper half when you tape them back together, and they’ll be as good as new, I assure you." Zoe collected the bills without a word and put them back into the envelope. Miss Liu watched her as she returned the envelope to her purse. "Now," Miss Liu said, "I imagine you would like to know what this is all about, and why someone has paid you two-hundred and fifty dollars just for stopping by." "Yes." Zoe said. "Very much." Miss Liu allowed herself a small laugh of delight. "Forgive me," she said, "I am not laughing at you. This is part of my job, telling people why they have been invited here, and it is always so interesting. People are always so different in their reactions." Zoe nodded and smiled uneasily in return. "Really, it is very simple, and very complex. My employer, whom I shall refer to only as 'The Doctor' is a very wealthy man, as you have perhaps observed." Miss Liu made a gesture with her hand indicating their immediate surroundings, and Zoe nodded. "He is also a serious and dedicated student of psychology and human nature, and, having made his fortune many times over, he now spends much of his time on research in these areas. More specifically, he is interested in motivation, in why people do what they do; and in sexuality, why they desire what they desire. His wealth has allowed him to do much original research in these areas, yet it is a never-ending task, an inexhaustible field of study." Zoe's ears pricked up when she heard the word "sexuality", and she felt the stirring of those familiar suspicions that had nagged her since she had first received the strange invitation. "Quite briefly, the Doctor would be interesting in using you as a subject for a study he is doing on sexual values." Here she stopped, and looked at Zoe, obviously waiting for a reaction. "Yes?" Zoe asked politely. "What sort of study?" "The Doctor would have to explain that," Miss Liu said. "I’m not a party to that information. My role is simply to secure your willing co-operation" "Would I be answering questions or taking tests? Things like that?" Zoe asked. Miss Liu gave a sad little shrug. "I’m sorry, Ms. Alexander, but I really have no idea. But I can tell you this: you would not be required to do anything you didn’t want to do. And you may quit the study whenever you like, at any time. Your participation will be kept in the strictest confidence at all times, during and after the experiment. In fact, the results of the study will never be published. They are for the Doctor's eyes only. "I can also tell you that a number of subjects have already been recruited, and that the study has been underway for some time. Furthermore, you will be compensated for your time on a per session basis, and paid quite handsomely. What you have received so far is merely a token of good faith, a very small token compared to what you stand to earn for a few evenings of your time. Three-hundred and fifty dollars was not a token as far as Zoe was concerned. It was a comfortable amount of cash, especially for something as trivial as coming up to one of the best addresses in town and hearing Miss Liu's pitch. The Doctor must be truly loaded to toss around cash like that. But still, Zoe was no fool. Money like that does not come free. She had no doubt that she would be required to earn it in some way, and it appeared that Miss Liu was not going to tell her how. "Tell me, Miss Liu," she said, deciding on a different approach. "Just why was I chosen to participate in this study? How did you come by my name?" Miss Liu nodded. "I cannot say for certain. As I said, I'm not a party to the protocols of this experiment. But the Doctor chooses his subjects himself." "I see. But I don't know him, I'm sure." Zoe was going to add that she didn't know anyone who could throw this kind of money around, but she held her tongue. "No, I'm sure you don’t," Miss Liu said. "The Doctor's friends and acquaintances are strictly ineligible to participate in the study, so if you did know him, you would not be here now. All participants must be strangers." Seeing that this didn't quite satisfy Zoe, she added, "It is most likely that the Doctor noticed you some place, perhaps where you work, perhaps as a friend of a friend of a friend. You would certainly not be the first to have been selected in such a way. What’s important is that you be a stranger to him, and to the other particpants. No identites are ever revealed, I can assure you." Zoe sat back in the wonderfully comfortable sofa, and looked at Miss Liu with a level gaze. "Do you mean he'd find out who I was? Where I lived? Things like that?" Miss Liu tipped her head in sympathy. "Nothing that isn’t a matter of public record. The Doctor is not a stalker, and he’s nothing if not absolutely discreet and confidential." Zoe considered this and Miss Liu added, "In any case, that's the way the Doctor has always recruited for his experiments. If he hadn't, you wouldn't have your money now." The mention of the money brought Zoe's attention back to the three hundred and fifty dollars in her purse. She could hardly complain about being given an opportunity to be that much richer. The two women sat together, and Zoe opened her mouth as if she were about to speak several times before saying, "I'm sorry, Miss Liu. I really don't understand what's going on here, but I can't help but wonder how much of this 'experiment' is concerned with sex, and I'd really have to know more of what's expected of me before I could give you any sort of answer on participating." She looked at Miss Liu for reaction. There was none. "Forgive my frankness." Zoe said, "but where I live, no one pays another person money without getting something in return, no matter how rich that person is. So you'll pardon me for being a bit suspicious." Miss Liu smiled gently. "Of course." she said. "I understand that this is a very remarkable offer." "At the same time," Zoe said, "I won't pretend I couldn't use the money." Miss Liu watched her calmly. Her look told Zoe nothing, but Zoe noticed that Miss Liu was not as old as she had originally thought. The girl appeared to be in her early twenties. She wore her perfectly applied makeup a bit diffidently, like a mask. She really didn’t need it. "Of course you understand, Ms. Alexander, that this meeting is just a preliminary screening to assess your interest in participating. You would still have to be screened by the Doctor himself. So all I need from you is a statement of interest in continuing." "And I could quit the experiment at any time?." Zoe asked. "Any time," Ms. Liu confirmed. "If you ever decide you want to stop, you’re free to just walk out. Or you may call us and say you won't be back. There is no penalty for terminating, but it will be final. Once you quit, there’s no going back. Of course, you get to keep whatever you've been paid up until that time." Zoe wished now she had taken Miss Liu up on the offer of tea. It would have given her somethingto do while she tired to think this out. "Have many people quit?" Zoe asked. "I’m afraid that’s confidential as well," Mis Liu replied. "But I would say no. Not to my knowledge." The entire thing sounded preposterous, yet here she was, sitting in this luxurious penthouse with three-hundred and fifty dollars in her purse. "May I think it over?" Zoe asked. "For twenty-four hours," Miss Liu said. "No more, I'm afraid. If you’re unable to particpate, there are other subjects to interview." Zoe nodded. Miss Liu waited an appropriate time, then, sensing that Zoe had nothing more to ask, she stood up, and Zoe did likewise. "You have the number on your invitation." Miss Liu said with a warm smile. "You may call us with your answer, any time between now and tomorrow night. If we don't hear from you by this time tomorrow night, we'll presume you're not interested and the offer will be withdrawn." As she said this she subtly guided Zoe to the enormous foyer. Zoe stopped and turned to her. "If I do accept, what happens next? Can you tell me?" "Yes, certainly. That’s something I do know. The Doctor will schedule an initial interview with you himself where I assume he will tell you about the nature of the experiment and your role in it." "There are no contracts or legal agreements?" Miss Liu smiled. "There is a nondisclosure agreement to assure confidentiality, and a liability agreement, but that's all. The Doctor is a very honorable man and prefers to keep lawyers and legality out of it. He likes things as simple as possible" Zoe nodded thoughtfully. "Any last questions?" Miss Liu asked as they stood by the open door. "I'm afraid we won't be able to take any questions over the phone; only a yes or a no." Zoe thought for a moment. She had thousands of questions but she knew that the chances of getting Ms Liu to answer them to her satisfaction were remote. She shrugged. "No. Not that I can think of right now." Miss Liu took her hand and shook it politely. "Then thank you again for your time, Ms Alexander, and have a very pleasant evening. We'll look forward to hearing from you." ***** The interview room, as Miss Liu had called it, was not as large as the living room, but seemed vast and very dark and strangely empty. Miss Liu, dressed in a cream-colored suit tonight, led her across the deep pile carpet to a chair of chrome and white leather sitting under a single overhead spotlight, very simple, and like everything else in the penthouse, expensive and elegant. "The Doctor will be with you shortly." she said, and she left. Zoe heard the door whisper closed behind her. It was very quiet. The noise from the evening traffic below was soft and muted, almost drowned out by the soft hum of the ventilation. Next to her chair was a matching table, and on the table was a pitcher of water and a glass, a box of tissues, and an ashtray, unused. Some distance away from Zoe, perhaps twenty feet of so, was a simple teak desk, Deep in shadow. She assumed that would be where the Doctor sat, and she realized that the light, what there was of it, was arranged so that she shouldn't be able to see him very clearly. She wasn't especially nervous, but neither was she entirely calm. The room, she decided, felt like a cathedral, like a place of profound silence and empty space. A door she had not noticed before opened behind the desk, and a figure entered. A man, but that's all she could say for sure, it was so dark. And now she tensed with uncertain fear. "Good evening. You are Miss Zoe Alexander?" he asked. The voice was deep and cultured. Zoe cleared her throat. "Yes. That's right." "Very good. They call me the Doctor, or Doctor M, and I apologize but it is important that I remain in shadows for the time being. Does that bother you too much?" "No." Zoe said. Then, "Well, yes. Actually. It does." "I'm so sorry. It is only temporary though. I must keep my identity hidden for now, and I feel that shadows are much less threatening than if I were to wear a mask, or speak to you over an intercom. You understand?" His voice was polite, educated, but not exceptional in any regard. He might be anywhere from thirty to sixty, Zoe guessed. He did not whisper or attempt any affect. There was no discernible accent. She could just make him out as he moved from the door and sat down at the desk. He turned on a desk lamp which spilled a bright cone of light on his hands only, folded above a clean, green blotter. A man's hands, nothing exceptional there either. He was wearing a gray shirt buttoned at the sleeves. No jacket. He had a manilla folder which he opened on the desk and seemed to be perusing. "Now, you've accepted our offer to participate in our study?" he asked. "Yes. So far, I mean. I’ve agreed to this interview." "And you've signed the confidentiality agreement?" "Yes. Miss Liu gave it to me." "Fine," he said. Then: "Well. Do you have any questions before we start?" Zoe just blinked in the darkness. "Start?" "Yes." "The experiment?" "Yes." Zoe stuttered for a moment. "But I thought this was just a preliminary interview. I thought you were going to explain the study to me." He was quiet, but for some reason Zoe thought he was smiling. "That's really not necessary. You'll pick it up as we go along." As he said this he seemed to reach into a desk drawer and pull out another folder, a more substantial one. He reached into the drawer again and pulled out a stack of bills: money, still in the bank wrappers. He placed this on the desk to his side, in the shadows. Zoe was confused. "I just want to be sure," she said. "I just want to be sure that I understand this. I'm to be paid for my time?" "That's right." he said. “Including my time here tonight? I’ll be paid for this interview?” “Correct. You’ll be paid for every session.” "And I can quit anytime I like?" "Right again." "I can just get up and walk out whenever I want? And the money is mine to keep?" "Exactly." She thought this over once more although she'd already gone over it in her mind a thousand times, looking for some loophole, some scam. Unless he were simply lying to her outright, she could find no way she might be conned. “Why can’t you tell me about the experiment? Why won’t you tell me what it’s about?” The Doctor folded his hands patiently. “I understand your concern, Ms. Alexander,” he said, “But very often in psychological studies, it’s important that the subject not know the purpose of the experiment. That might bias the result. Indeed, the literature is full of psychological experiments that were hopelessly ruined precisely because the subject guessed or inferred the purpose, even falsely. In this case I’m afraid your ignorance is critical to the success of this work. I do hope you understand.” Zoe thought about this. She knew it was reasonable, but even so, sitting there in the darkness with the spotlight on her, it was hard not to be suspicious. She looked at his hands: calm, strong, patient. She believed him. She believed his hands. "Okay." she said. “I understand.” "Then you're ready to begin?" "Yes." The hands seemd to relax. "Very good." he said. "Now: I'll give you four hundred dollars to take off your clothes." She was surprised that his words didn’t shock her. She’d perhaps been expecting something like this. "I'm sorry?" she asked. His hands didn’t move. "If you'll take off your clothes, Miss Alexander, I'll give you four hundred dollars. Right now. Cash." "You're joking." "No,” he said. “I’m not." Zoe laughed once, harshly. "So that's what this experiment is about? To see people's reaction when you ask them to take off their clothes for money? That's it?" "Not entirely, no." "Not entirely," she repeated knowingly. She waited for him to say something further, but he didn't. She was not surprised at his offer, but she was disappointed. She had expected something more sophisticated from a man of his wealth and intelligence. Zoe sighed and picked up her purse. "No thank you." she said, standing up, "I think I understand it now, and I'm not interested." He didn't seemed surprised. "First impressions may be very misleading, Miss Alexander." he said. "If you should leave now, that will immediately terminate your participation in the study. There will no be coming back. So I would consider it carefully were I you." Zoe looked into the darkness where he sat, weighing his words. It was just as she’d feared: he was nothing but a wealthy old pervert looking for entertainment. She knew the type. She saw them all the time at her waitressing job, some of them joking but some of them serious and always the same: they just wanted to watch. No touching. Entirely honorable. Still, she’d expected something better from a man of his wealth and breeding. Suddenly she was tired of all this, all this pretense and manufacturd seriousness. She knew when she was being played with, and it made her angry. "With all due respect,” she said sweetly, “Fuck you and your experiment." She turned and headed for the door, which was invisible in the darkness. "Five hundred." he said. She stopped, shocked at his affrontery. "I beg your pardon?" "Five hundred dollars if you'll take off your clothes." Five hundred dollars was a considerable amount of money for Zoe. Tips had been bad lately and her rent was overdue. She stopped and looked back at him, or rather, at the cone of light where his hands still appeared. "And if I do 'take off my clothes'," she asked, "What happens next? As if I had to ask." "I'm not going to have sex with you, if that's what you're thinking." he said. "As to what happens next, well, if you won't accept my offer, I suppose we'll never know." Zoe stood on the Deep-pile carpet in that warm and dark and expensive place, and weighed her self-respect against his offer of cash. She had nothing against taking off her clothes per se. It was the idea of being paid for it that insulted her. "One thousand dollars." she said, pulling a figure from the air. Again, she could feel him smiling in the darkness. "Six hundred." he said. "I'm afraid that's as high as I go." "Eight hundred dollars." Zoe said. “Or nothing.” "Seven.” Now Zoe had to smile. “Seven fifty.” She watched his hands as he thought about it, then felt a sudden thrill as he reached for the stack of bills. He picked it up, and she heard the drawer open as he put the money away. To her own chagrin she realized the deal was off: she’d gone too high. “The standard pay for a session is two hundred and fifty dollars,” he said. “Ms. Liu will pay you as you exit.” Zoe stood there staring into the darkness at his shadow, her heart hammering in her chest. She was being dismissed. It was over. She turned uncertainly, looking for the exit in the absolute darkness. “Very well,” he said softly. “Seven hundred and fifty dollars.” Excitement surged through her again, as if someone had licked the back of her neck. "To just take off my clothes and just sit here?" she asked. “That's right." She walked back to her chair and sat down. "Where's the money?" The drawer opened again and he pulled out the stack of bills. Zoe watched as he counted out fifteen fifty dollars bill. The bills made a dry, liquid sound as he counted them out. He fanned them like playing cards and laid them on the green blotter under the desk lamp. Zoe looked at where he should be, seeing nothing but shadow. He didn’t lean forward, he didn’t move. She looked down at the money on the desk. Money that was waiting for her. She put down her purse and sat up straight in her chair. She had worn a simple blue blouse and black skirt for this interview, businesslike, but one that showed off her figure as well. She’d wanted to look nice and it was the best thing she owned. She kept her eyes on the money as she unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it from her skirt. She was aware of her body now, of the feel of her clothes against her skin, how thin and insubstantial her blouse was. She unbuttoned the cuffs, then sat forward and removed the blouse, pulling down her arms, still staring at where he should be. She folded the blouse carefully and put in on the table beside the chair, taking her time. She thought perhaps he’d tell her to stop: that the point of the experiment had just been to determine her price, but he made no move to stop her and said nothing. The fact that she’d been wrong about him again angered her. His hands didn’t move on the desk. She’d worn her best bra too, a slick, seamless thing of powder blue that was perhaps just a trifle too small for her. She was aware of the way her breasts swelled over the cups. Zoe was not ashamed of her body. Though she often found fault with it, she knew that she was nice to look at. She stood up as casually as she could and stepped out of her shoes, then unfastened her skirt, her fingers working at the side zipper with a bit of anger and impatience, wanting to get it over with. She got the zipper down and let it fall down her legs. She picked up the skirt and folded it too, then laid it neatly on top of her blouse. He's paying you to do this, she told herself. It's not like you care what he thinks. It's just a job. She was wearing pantyhose she’d bought that very evening, with white panties beneath it. She essayed a look at him sitting in the shadows, but all she saw were his hands, folded patiently before him. Even though he didn’t speak, didn’t move, she got the message. She hooked her fingers into the waist of the panty hose and stripped them down her legs, dropping the useless garment to the ground. She stood up unnaturally straight to face him and adjusted the straps on her bra, determined to show no self-consciousness. But standing so straight made her feel as if she were thrusting her breasts out, so she tried to relax slightly. She couldn’t quite find the proper balance though. It was as if she suddenly didn't know how to stand. She faced him wearing only the bra and panties. She was not about to let him make her feel embarrassed or self-consciousness, so she tried to appear as natural as she could, willing herself to be calm. The air in the room was warm and comfortable, and she did not feel the least bit cold. But she felt her nipples begin to stiffen inside her bra, and goose bumps ran down her back. He said nothing. He didn’t move. Zoe stood there with her face composed into an unreadbale mask. Even though she couldn’t see him she could feel his gaze upon her near-naked body. She waited for him to say something or give some sign, then felt a thrill in the pit of her stomach when she realized that she wasn’t done. "All of your clothes, Miss Alexander," he said softly. "Your underthings as well." She was not surprised. She already knew what he wanted. Without a moment’s hesitation she reached behind her, unhooked her bra, and let it slide down her arms, catching it before it hit the floor. Her ample breasts tumbled free, and she felt the warm air on them. She smelled a sudden burst of her perfume from where she always daubed it on the warmth of her breasts. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her panties, stared at him boldly, as if she could see him, and pulled them down, bending over to get them over the fullness of her thighs. She let them drop down her legs, then bent down, keeping her knees carefully together, and retrieved the wispy garment, folded it, and laid it atop the pile of her clothes. Her nakedness felt like some sort of moral victory, and she straightened up again, purposely thrusting her breasts forward and spreading her legs slightly to make sure he saw everything. She had been naked with men many times, but she realized now that she had never displayed herself to anyone like this before; never stood totally unclothed before another person's critical gaze, and the emotions it set off were complex and confusing. She was both embarrassed and strangely proud. And she was not without some tricks of her own. When she grew uneasy just standing there, she raised her hands and combed them through her hair,which raised her breasts invitingly, then shook her head to make her hair fall free, and in so doing, made her lush breasts shake enticingly on her chest. If he was going to play with her, she would show him that she could play right back. Let him eat his heart out. She stood proudly in front of him, letting him see that she wasn't afraid, wasn't ashamed. She stared boldly and defiantly into the darkness over the desk and said, "Would you like me to turn around? Would you like to see my ass too?" "As you wish." he said softly. Zoe turned around and let him see her high, round ass, which was one of her points of particular pride, invitingly firm and tempting. She looked back at him over her shoulder. "Well? Am I worth it?" she asked. "Do you like what you see? Are you getting your rocks off looking at the naked lady?" He didn't say anything for a while, and Zoe wondered if he were masturbating or playing with himself. But she saw that his hands were still on the desk. "You're a very beautiful woman, Miss Alexander." he said finally. "Very beautiful. I mean that quite sincerely." She knew very well that she was beautiful; she'd been told so many times, But the honest appreciation in his voice, devoid of any hint of salacious lust or desire, moved her somehow, and she almost felt bad for mocking him. Poor old rich man. Maybe she was teasing him too much. "Thank you." she said softly. He sighed deeply. "The money's yours." She realized that to go and take the money off the desk now would make her look cheap, as if she didn't trust him. Worse, it would make it seem that she had taken her clothes off only for the money. that she really was some sort of whore. That might be true, but she didn't want to call attention to the fact. She saw now how the money that changed everything. Zoe sat down in the chair, as naturally as she could while keeping her knees discretely together. The leather was warm and very supple against her skin, almost like another body. She felt very vulnerable sitting naked like this, and her vulnerability was strangely arousing to her. She cleared a strand of hair from her eyes and said, "You know, if you'd just approached me as a regular person, as a man , and asked me out or shown some respect… Well, you might have gotten your peek for free. Or at least a lot less money," she added with a slight smile. Now she heard him laugh, a warm and open laugh. "Oh? You think so?" he asked. Zoe shrugged. "I'm not ashamed of my body. I enjoy being looked at, actually. I just don't like being told what to do. I don't like being made to feel like a whore, like I can be bought and sold." "I see." She remembered now there had been a time when what she had just said had been true, that she had liked to show her body. She had enjoyed it when men looked at her, desired her. She had known just how to use clothes and accessories to show what she wanted to show, to keep them looking. But all that had changed after her break-up, when she had decided that her beauty was a liability, attracting the wrong kind of men and frightening off the good ones. Now, without any clothes on, she was a bit non-plussed. She didn't quite know what to do with herself, how to sit, what to do with her hands. One thing was certain, she was determined that she wouldn't appear to be the least bit self-conscious or embarrassed, no matter how she might actually feel. She crossed her legs, one knee over the other, and sat up straight, showing her breasts, and it occurred to her that being naked and defenseless like this gave her a certain moral advantage. After all, she was merely unclothed. Unclothed, but natural, while he was the one stricken by salacious urges and lusts. He was the one who was paying her. “Is that all?” she asked. “May I get dressed now?” There was a pause in which she knew that he was looking at her. “As you wish,” he said. She felt bad for him suddenly. Now that it was done, it hadn’t been so hard. She felt like she had cheated him. She left her clothes where they were. "Why don’t you put the lights on?” she asked. “Are you so very bad looking that you have to pay women to undress in front of you?Is there something wrong with you?" "No, I think, on both counts." he said "Then why don't you show yourself? I'd like to have a look at you. I mean, fair's fair. I've certainly shown you enough." He said nothing for a time, but she could feel him sitting in the shadows looking at her, and she began to grow uneasy. "Do you just like looking? Is that it?" Again there was no answer. She could see his hands still on the desk, relaxed, unmoving. Her fan of fifties were still there too. "I mean," she said, "I know some men are into that. Just looking, not wanting to touch. Is that it?" Silence. He didn't move. She couldn't imagine what he was up to, sitting stock still like that. He seemed to be waiting for something. "Maybe you'd like to see more?" she asked. He didn't answer and she added, "Free of charge?" It was a joke, but he didn't laugh. The silence was truly unnerving now. She could feel his eyes upon her naked body, but she didn't know what he was doing. She sensed that he wasn't looking at her with lust or desire, the way men usually looked at her. He seemed to be looking at some part of her that she herself was unfamiliar with, seeing something she didn't know existed. It made her very uneasy. "Here." she said. "Is this what you want?" She opened her knees slightly, and slouched down in her seat, giving him a perfect view of what she'd been hiding. "Do you want to see my vagina? It won't bite." She put her hands down in her crotch and pulled her labia open for him to see. A thrill of dangerous pleasure shot through her as she exposed herself so lewdly. She knew she shouldn't be doing this—he'd said no sex--but she didn't know what else to do, and he seemed to be waiting for her to do something. "Do you want to touch?" she asked the darkness. She began to stroke herself, running her fingers lightly up and down her slit, curling the hair around her fingers, watching the shadows. The hands on the desk didn't move. "I don't mind if you want to touch me." she said. "I like to be touched." At last he spoke. "Touch yourself." he said. His voice was thick. She was getting to him. It was such a relief to finally get a response, to have him break his oppressive silence that she almost smiled. She understood him now. She began to stroke herself harder, the way she did in private, pleased to be on familiar ground, ground she understood. He was a man after all, and men were such predictable creatures. She knew what he wanted to see. "Mmm," she sighed, closing her eyes. She made no attempt to hide her pleasure, knowing that this was what he wanted, and feeling she owed him at least this much. And in fact, her fingers did feel unusually good on her flesh. She was surprisingly aroused. "Do you touch yourself like this often?" he asked softly, afraid to break her spell. "Yes." she sighed. "Sometimes. It just feels so good." Feeling suddenly defensive, she looked at him. "Everyone does it," she said. "Not just men. Women do it too. Everyone does it.” “You do it too," she challenged. "Don't you?" He didn't answer. She didn't like him ignoring her. She didn't like the way he was playing with her, making her feel like she was the perverted one while he was the one who was enjoying it. She didn’t like the way he hid in the shadows, pretending he wasn’t there. But she could play with him as well. She would get to him; she would show him. If he wanted to see smut, she would show him smut. She raised her left leg and hung it over the arm of the chair, opening herself up wider. She was no longer stroking herself softly. She was aroused now and she wanted more stimulation. The movement of her hand was more impatient, insistent, harder. Her fingers vibrated against her clitoris, and her other hand moved up to her chest where she took her breast in her hand and began to stroke it. She wanted to show him how she played with herself, how she gave herself private pleasure. Let the pervert look. Let him get green with envy. "You like watching me do this, don't you?" she asked, a smoky look in her eyes. "You like watching me rub myself. You're sitting there hard, getting off on me, aren't you? You can't keep your eyes off my pussy, can you, you son of a bitch? Are you beating off now? Are you pulling your dick? You sick bastard. You pervert! Can't you talk? Can't you say anything?" "Yes." he said softly. "Ohhh!" the cry of pleasure burst unexpectedly from her mouth as a sudden thrill sparked inside her, a lewd and dirty thrill that came from being watched like this, watched as she exposed not only her body, but her secret desires. "Oh yes! Watch me! Watch me, you bastard! Your big cock is going to come too, isn't it? You'd love to shove your dick into me, wouldn't you? Fuck my little pussy, fuck me with your big cock!" Her hand was moving faster now, sending spears of irrestible pleasure through her. Her body heaved in the chair as she panted loudly, her hips rocking up against her fingers. She had been exaggerating what she felt for his amusemenet, but she had fooled herself too, and now her excitement was real and was running out of control. Occasionally an especially keen bolt of pleasure would make her body jerk and bring a cry from her lips and she would have to leave off masturbating for a second till it passed. Sometimes she would stop and spank her clit with a sharp little blow, as if it were a naughty little pet that had nipped at her. Her other hand stroked rhythmically at her breast, sliding around the ripe hardness to her nipple, which she took between her fingers and twisted. She pinched her tender flesh with her long red nails, seasoning her pleasure with sharp stabs of delicious pain. Her eyes were closed, her hips and thighs trembling as she brought herself to the peak of pleasure. She opened her eyes and stared up at the bright spotlight above her. There was no sound in the room but the sounds of her fingers working wetly against her flesh and her own labored panting. "Oh God!" she moaned. "You motherfucker! I'm going to come! I'm going to come! Please let me come! Please tell me I can come!" "Come, then." he said softly. "Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Oh, fuck meeee!" her voice ran from a breathless whine to a full throated shriek as she convulsed in orgasm, twitching and thrashing in the chair. She shoved two fingers into her vagina and felt her empty sheath spasm hungrily around them as her eyes rolled up into her head in a delicious, full-body orgasm that hit her with jolt after jolt of shattering release. The intensity of her climax took her completely by surprise and her convulsions were so intense that she felt her juices flood out around her fingers and run down her hand as the nails of her other hand made deep marks in her flushed breast. All she could think of was her own nakedness and the man sitting there, calmly and intently watching her make a shameless slut out of herself. The image filled her with lewd and bitter pleasure. "Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh yes! Oh yes! Oh fuck yes!" she whined, feeling the throbbing ecstasy fade with each dwindling spasm of her body. Slowly all her wire-taut muscles relaxed. Her limbs began trembling as she continued to reverberate like a great bell with the faading echoes of her orgasm. Slowly she returned to reality. This strange reality. She saw her clothes folded on the table, the desk, the cone of light, the hands lying calmly in the lamplight. "Are you all right now?" he asked softly. She could tell from his tone that he had not orgasmed. Whatever she had thought he was doing, he hadn't shared her climax; she had come alone with him watching her. Zoe was still gasping for breath. "Yes," she said, deeply ashamed and confused. "I'll have Miss Liu bring you a warm towel," he said. "No. No, that's all right. I'm fine," she said, awkwardly trying to move her legs. "As you wish." he said. He said nothing more for a minute, then she heard him stand up and go to the same door by which he'd come in. He stopped. "That was excellent, Miss Alexander. An excellent first session. I'll look for you in three days, same time?" Before she could say anything she saw the door open and he stood there for a moment in the wedge of light, in silhouette, a shadow regarding her. "Don't forget your money." he said, and was gone. |