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The Key

By: Many Feathers



Authors note: As very special favor for some very special friends, I've been asked to resubmit a couple of my older stories once listed under Thesandman. It is not my intention to submit all or many of my older works, but for those who have truly supported and appreciated my writing over the years, I have relented to do so. Additionally, I will not turn voting on for any of these, as they have had their moment in the sun so to speak.

But for those of you who've asked: Resubmitted

The Key

By: Thesandman/Many Feathers

Miranda Jones, a shorthaired brunette with a pixie-like face has searched all her life for the right, special someone. Little does she know that the key to that very happiness exists within a small corner shop, catering to those who collect odd items, or who enjoy browsing through antiques, most of which seemingly have no purpose.

The discovery of a tiny tarnished key barely clinging to an old worn out silver chain is about to change her life forever.

#

As she'd been doing nearly every Friday for the past three years, Miranda stood waiting patiently in front of the small, cozy little sidewalk café waiting for her two friends. She had known Silvia and Darlene for several years, though she considered Darlene as truly her very best friend having known one another in high school. Now at just over forty years of age, though looking much younger than that herself much to the chagrin of her two companions, Miranda spotted them on the sidewalk heading her way. She waved, watching as they spotted her waving back.

Moments later they reached her side giving one another a kiss on the cheek in greeting. "Morning M.J.!" Darlene called out smiling. She had called her that ever since high school, only then her last name had been Jenkins, not Jones. Miranda smiled to herself, wondering if Darlene would have continued calling her "M.J.", even if she hadn't gotten married to a man with the same last initial in his name.

"Hey Darlene, Sil!" Miranda answered back, abbreviating Silvia's name just as Darlene always had, something she had herself picked up on shortly after being introduced to her. Silvia and Darlene worked at the same law office, which is where they had met, soon after introducing her to Miranda where they began their weekly get-togethers at the café.

Like Salt and Pepper shakers, Miranda had often thought of her two friends in just such a way. Darlene, with a fair almost alabaster complexion, though her hair was dark, worn long and nearly coal black. Silvia on the other hand, her skin a deep rich creamy looking chocolate color, hair short, though bleached nearly a platinum blonde standing well near six feet and looking every bit the model she once had been during her teenage years.

"Shall we?" Silvia asked leading the way without waiting to be shown to a table.

Though it was mid-June, the early morning air was crisp, cool, though the sun was already promising to chase away the cold morning air with a hint of warmth already peeking through the treetops. Miranda drew the button down sweater she had worn closer about her neck though refusing to button it in an effort to ward off the chill as she followed her two companions toward their seats.

Miranda had already secured their favorite table for them upon arriving with a simple nod towards the waiter. The same pimply-faced kid that had been serving them for month's now receiving a more than generous tip for ensuring that their favorite table was 'unofficially' reserved each Friday morning whether they arrived for their morning coffee and pastries or not.

As was customary, they held off sharing any recent news or on-goings about their respective lives until after having first given their orders. When 'Chuck' finally ambled away to get their coffee's, Darlene leaned over closer towards Miranda, whispering just low enough that no one beyond Silvia sitting across from her could over hear.

"You might want to do something about dousing those head-lights M.J.," she began. "Otherwise, old Chucky-baby is apt to hang around our table all morning long!"

Miranda took a quick, very brief glance down at her chest, already knowing what to expect. She'd felt her nipples harden considerably just moments before her friend's arrival. And it hadn't been due to the chill of the morning air, though no doubt that had contributed to keeping them firm and erect afterwards. What she hadn't mentioned, and doubted that she even would, was the young handsome dark haired man that had stood to leave just as she herself had arrived. He'd done nothing more than to smile briefly, nodding towards her. But the penetrating look he had given her had been deliciously received. She'd felt her body respond of its own accord, without rhyme, without reason for it. "A simple look", she'd mused moments after he'd passed her by, not even giving her a second look until reaching the corner of the street before crossing. Only then had he looked back, caught her looking towards him and smiled once again. Miranda had felt her face flush in confused, unjustified excitement. But for the briefest of moments, time had stood still and she had found herself standing there being kissed by this strangely attractive looking man.

Miranda tugged the sweater she was wearing more firmly around herself actually doing up three of the five buttons, just enough to place enough material over her blouse and adequately hide the aroused state that her nipples were in.

Darlene was smiling. "I didn't think it was that cold!" she said with a mischievous grin. "Or do you actually have some secret fantasy you've been harboring over Chucky baby," she finished with a suggestive tease.

One of the things Miranda loved most about her dear sweet friend was her uninhibited openness, something of which she herself possessed, but usually reserved for the bedroom. Darlene on the other hand, had a suggestive charm about her nature that bordered on the extreme. She had the talent and the ability to call another woman a 'slut' to her face, and have it come off sounding like the most heartfelt compliment ever given. Most often Miranda would see her sit back, or stand there with a 'Mona Lisa' smile upon her face, as though only she knew the secret behind the comment just given. But after years of coming to know her friend as well as she had, Miranda more often than not heard the true meanings behind the words whenever Darlene delivered one of her deliciously wicked diatribes without her unsuspecting victim being any the wiser.

And not that she herself hadn't fallen victim to one or two of Darlene's naughtily wicked assaults upon her either! More than anyone, Miranda knew that she could trust Darlene implicitly with whatever secrets or thoughts she might share. No matter how decadent, or innocent they might be. It had been over two years ago that she had first confided in her friend that her sex-life had all but disappeared. She and her husband had not been intimate in all that time, a situation that had gradually gotten worse though she'd made every effort imaginable to correct it. Eventually, with frustration setting in, and the worry that she had perhaps failed somehow in their marriage, or worse...that perhaps her husband was off having an affair with another woman, Miranda had found herself pouring her heart out to her friend in hopes of receiving some kind of advise that would help her towards making some sort of decision.

And though Darlene had in fact counseled her, giving Miranda a wide variety of options and choices to think about, she'd added one more little option in the manner that Miranda should have known better, and been on guard about. 

They had met for lunch at a posh restaurant, it had been Miranda's turn to treat, and as it was also a special occasion of sorts, the day that she and Darlene had first become friends, it was a date they yearly celebrated with a fancy dinner or lunch together. This year, it was Miranda's turn to buy.

She'd gotten up a short time previous, excusing herself to use the restroom. Unlike a lot of women, she'd not taken her purse with her into the bathroom leaving it comfortably parked on the chair between them where Darlene could stand guard over it for her, though not as though she had too. Upon her return, and in preparation of retrieving her wallet, she'd fished inside her purse, discovering a long slim object that she knew full well hadn't previously been there before. Without thinking, she withdrew the devise holding it up within her hand for closer inspection, totally unaware of its true purpose or nature gazing at it curiously much to the sudden delight and laughter of her friend.

"Ah Miranda? You might want to put that back inside your purse," she suggested. "I wanted to surprise you with a little something to help you with that problem we were discussing a few days ago."

Miranda gave Darlene a questioning look, then as realization began to dawn on her, she found herself blushing furiously, dropping the thin silver object onto the table where it began to hum, buzz, and bounce upon the table as though having a mind of its own. Darlene shrieked with peels of laughter, watching Miranda desperately reaching out to recapture what must have looked to many within the restaurant as a writhing snake somehow having been smuggled in and set free.

A few nearby giggles from other patrons as those who knew and were obviously well aware of what the thing was, began snickering as well. There were however a few astonished voices rising with abject indignation at the bizarre spectacle taking place.

Ever since then, Miranda had learned to be a lot more careful in the future against any more of Darlene's hidden naughty little surprises.

After receiving their coffee's and fresh pastries, the three of them had finally gotten down to business, catching one another up on the weeks events, their lives, and for desert, the latest naughty gossip, though lately, Miranda had found herself having very little to share by way of amusing antidote, most often content to add a thought here or there only in passing. She considered briefly mentioning the good looking dark haired man that had been the real cause behind her hardened nipples, deciding at the last moment not to, suddenly feeling silly about it, if not somewhat embarrassed that she could find herself so overwhelmingly aroused over hardly nothing.

"Hey! We've still got a half hour before we have to head to the office this morning," Silvia began. "There's this really neat antique shop I want to show the two of you."

Darlene balked at the thought initially; she really wasn't into collecting or browsing around through antiques. Silvia on the other hand had by in large, decorated her entire apartment in antique furniture, much of which Miranda found extremely interesting to look at and wonder about. Though she herself appreciated some of the pieces, also shying away from buying anything really antique herself.

"It's not just an antique furniture store either Darlene!" Silvia said seeing the rolled-eyed look on her friends face at the mention of it. "They've got all sorts of neat, weird looking stuff in there. Everything from books to gadgets, even toys I haven't seen anyplace else in years!"

At the mere mention of the word "books", Miranda knew Darlene was hooked. She collected first editions of anything she could get her hands on.

Miranda soon discovered that the store was less than a block away from the café. She had passed it a hundred times without once giving it a second thought, or even a second look. So often she'd gazed at the store briefly in passing, surmising it to be more, one of those palm-reader, or novelty shops rather than what the sign said as she found herself really reading it for the first time.

"Vickie's treasure chest".

Miranda followed Silvia through the small door into the shop, noticing when she did that it needed a fresh coat of paint, chipped, weather worn just as the dimly lit interior of the shop suggested upon entering. The faint sound of bells jingling to announce the arrival of customers greeting them familiarly as it took a moment or more for Miranda's eyes to adjust to the much dimmer light even at this hour of the morning.

Even with the announcement of the bells, Miranda noticed that no one stood behind the cluttered, semi-dirty counter to greet or wait on them. Silvia immediately directing Darlene over to a pile of dusty, worn looking books that rather than shelved and put on display in any semblance of order, stood stacked in haphazard piles, some toppling over onto others, many dusty with titles and covers obscured. Even so, Darlene approached them with the enthusiasm of a child discovering gifts beneath the tree on Christmas morning.

"Over here!" Silvia said leading Miranda over to one of the very few glass displays that appeared to contain the perhaps more valuable bobbles and novelties of the store. She ran her hands atop the glass, discovering the case to be unlocked, easily accessible. Almost immediately, her curiosity and interest drawn towards an antique looking hairbrush. The handle of which was either ivory or bone, many of the bristles now missing, but of note, a single strand of what appeared to be long reddish-blonde hair clinging to what remained of the bristles as though desperately willing to remain as the only surviving member to what had once been its owners gently caring hair brush.

Miranda could almost picture the image of a young woman, sitting before her vanity mirror, gently combing out her long tresses just before retiring to bed. A smile upon the woman's face as she sat brushing her hair, the thought of a young suitor perhaps, still fresh upon her mind, or perhaps the romance story she'd just finished reading, leaving her breathless with images of a romantic interlude, or some knight in shining armor sweeping her off her feet and riding off towards the sunset with her.

Next to the brush, what appeared to be a hand held mirror, though no mirror now existed within the exquisitely carved frame. The palest of tiny pink roses dancing about the framework, interleafed with what appeared to be tiny elves, or perhaps fairies of some sort. An interesting contrast as though someone had had trouble deciding which of the two was the more intricate of design.

"Wow! Look at this!" Silvia exclaimed reaching into the glass case, retrieving what appeared to be a tiny silver key attached to an old, well worn and tarnished chain. "It looks hand made!" she added after a moments fondling of the almost too tiny, too delicate key no bigger than the size of her thumbnail. Yet, molded so perfectly, so intricately with tiny carvings actually embedded within the design of the key itself.

"It is!" both Miranda and Silvia heard turning to face the strange voice that had startled them both, Silvia, nearly dropping the tiny key onto the floor, fumbling briefly with it for a moment before securing it tightly within the palm of her hand.

Miranda felt herself blushing self-consciously, wondering if they should have even been pawing around at the items within the glass enclosed display, even though it hadn't been locked.

"Beautiful little thing isn't it?" the woman asked without a hint of anger in her tone of voice, though she held out her hand towards Silvia, who promptly allowed the tiny silver key to fall from her hand into that of the proprietors.

"Sorry, ah Mrs.," Miranda stated for the both of them, even though she herself hadn't been the one holding the key.

"Cravenstance," the older looking woman replied with an awkward smile as though her name even made her grimace whenever saying it. Silvia almost laughed in spite of herself, quickly covering her mouth will the ball of her fist.

Not only did the woman have an odd sounding name, but even her features reminded them both of a stork. Nearly as thin as the bird with the same name, Mrs. Cravenstance's hair was thin, wispy and combed straight back atop of her head and slicked down with god knows what, giving her a just gotten out of the shower look.

Her nose was just as equally big, long though narrow, and pointed at the tip almost as though it had been purposely sculpted that way.

"Do you like it?" the old woman asked once again holding up the key so they could both see it.

"It is interesting," Miranda had to admit, examining the tiny charm as it hung almost dangerously from its precarious little chain swinging back and forth as though the old woman were making some attempt at hypnotizing her into buying it.

Spotting an even smaller tiny white tag attached to the chain itself, Miranda reached out towards it without thinking, as though drawn to it having actually been lulled into a hypnotic trance.

The old woman let the tiny chain and key drop into Miranda's outstretched hand. She immediately fished for the tag, turning it over and examining the simple numbers showing on the other side. She let out a surprised breath of air upon seeing the price tag.

"Wow!" Miranda stated already beginning to hand back the tiny trinket before she damaged it in anyway, having then to actually buy the piece though she found herself actually considering it. "Two hundred and fifty dollars?" she blurted out before realizing how insensitive that must have sounded to Mrs. Cravenstance. "I mean it's certainly worth it!" she amended quickly, "But my husband would kill me if he were to learn I'd spent that kind of money on something like this without first discussing it with him!"

Even that was a lie, and she knew it. She had her own personal budget that she kept for just such kind of things, though in truth, it would mean she'd have to cut back on her more expensive lunches for a couple of weeks.

By now, Silvia had managed to disengage herself from the awkwardness of the situation by pretending to browse through a selection of paintings that were again haphazardly standing along one wall.

"What would you offer for it?" the old woman asked suddenly, catching Miranda off guard.

Miranda laughed, she'd noticed the sign out front posted by the door when they first came in. "No Checks, No Credit...Cash only!"

"I'm not sure I even have fifty dollars on me at the moment anyway," she stated offhandedly, sure that the mention of whatever real cash she did have on herself would end any bartering over the piece.

"Done!" the old lady said dropping the key and chain back into the tiny box it had sat in previously before handing it over to Miranda, smiling.

Surprised, unable to even speak, Miranda quickly opened her purse fishing out the two twenties she knew she had, along with a handful of ones. "Ah...Darlene? You have a couple of dollars I can borrow?" she asked.

Darlene was already rummaging around in her own purse as she approached her friend. "Sure sweetie! What'd you buy anyway?" she asked curiously. Miranda handed her the tiny box accepting the five Darlene gave her.

Moments later, Mrs. Cravenstance came back with a few coins as her change, pressing the meager tokens into Miranda's hand. "Some believe that there is Magic in this shop. Perhaps there is. There is a little bit of everyone, of past lives, past loves that remain and continue to exist within the memories of those things we all cherished or once held dear. Perhaps you my dear, will find the happiness you seek. Let the key be your guide to unlock the secrets towards that which you have long sought after."


Before Miranda could as much as utter a single word, the old woman turned disappearing into the back room as though knowing whatever business there had been was completed. There would be no more sales from this group of women today at least.

Almost as quietly as they had all entered, they left. Miranda already fingering the tiny silver key as they hurriedly exited the store.

"Kinda spooky isn't she?" Silvia stated the moment they were out of earshot of being over heard. "It really is a neat store though, I've purchased a number of things that I've found interesting for one reason or another. I guess, they buy out old estates and such, then sell whatever they can to make a profit from what they're able to bargain the family's down for who don't have the time or patience to try and sell everything off themselves."


The Key



The stars were burning in the night sky, burning like the wreck of my car, which was now wrapped around the trunk of a large oak tree. Flames danced in the grass near the wreckage and although I had been thrown well clear of the wreck, I felt an urgency to move. Despite my will, I was unable to gather the strength. My head throbbed, and my body was cold, as if the life was being drained from me. I struggled to keep my eyes open, but I could make out the blurred figure of someone approaching, and I soon felt arms underneath mine, pulling me farther from the wreck, and losing the battle with unconsciousness, darkness overtook me. 

When I awoke, I was laying on a bed, shirtless, on my back, and staring up at the ceiling of a cabin. Wondering who had pulled me from the wreck, I was quickly answered as a woman approached the bed and placed her hand on my forehead. She was slender, and young, with deep black hair that curled around her neck. Her eyes glittered like green gems as she looked down carefully at me, inspecting my wounds, and I wondered what someone so young was doing out here on her own. 

I wondered what condition I was in, having been thrown from a wreck such as that, but I was surprised to find that I could move all my appendages and digits without much pain. Astonishingly, nothing felt broken, but I could tell I was cut and bruised all over my body. I recalled the violence of the wreck, the adrenaline rush as I swerved off the road, the terror of being thrown through the windshield and the impact in the dirt and grass. It amazed me that I had survived, let alone be alert and moving so shortly afterward. 

I felt like I could get up, and I wanted answers from this girl that had pulled me from what in my mind would have been certain death, but before I could let a word out she was on the bed with me. 

I started to say something but she muffled my words with her lips, pressing against me, her eyes closed. I felt her breathing, and suddenly I felt weak and my surprise subsided and I just went with her kiss, laying back slightly, my hand sliding up her arm. Her tongue slipped past my lips and I felt myself becoming weaker still, and then her hand moved between my legs.

It only took a light touch of her hand and I instantly felt the blood rush to my cock. My heart pumped hard in my chest, and I could feel the adrenaline start to flow, at this moment I wanted nothing more than sex with this woman, however her kisses made me weak. I unbuttoned her shirt slowly, her small, pert breasts exposed to me with their pink nipples at the tips, and I could see she was wearing a necklace with a peculiar medallion. It was round, with a perfectly spherical stone in the center, so black that it didn't reflect light. There was writing around the edges, very small and not in any written language I have encountered before. 

She tossed her shirt away and pulled off her skirt, straddling me, grinning down at me with just a hint of malice, but staring into her eyes reassured me. She laid down on top of me, licking my face and my neck, down my chest, her hair falling over me. I couldn't move anymore; I attempted to move my arms but I was unable to, and I could feel her pulling my pants down my legs, my hard cock coming free and her lips wrapping around it tight. 

She clutched the medallion she wore around her neck as her head bobbed up and down between my legs. Her hair occluded my view of her face, but she was groaning as much as I was as she proceeded to pleasure me with her mouth. I could feel her sucking hard, and it was nothing like I had ever received before from any other woman. Her mouth went all the way up to the head of my cock and her tongue swirled around it rapidly, then all the way back down and my cock went deep into her throat. She was somehow able to do this so rapidly, I couldn't explain how if I tried. Each time her head came up to the top of my cock, she expertly licked the spot right under my head, driving me mad as she played with the sensitivity there.

My heart was slamming in my chest and I was sweating. Suddenly I was able to move my limbs again, and her head came up off my cock and she quickly snapped her head up to look at me, and then I realized her eyes had become completely silver. Her hair was wild and the look on her face was purely animalistic.

What happened next is almost a blur. The longer she looked at me, the harder my heart beat. She commanded me with her eyes, and I grabbed her nude body, pulled her to the edge of the bed and spread her legs open wide, pushing them back toward her chest before sinking my cock into her. Her head went back in pleasure as she brought her hand up to grip the medallion, and at that point my vision went fuzzy. I could do nothing else but slam my cock into her harder, feeling my thick shaft penetrate her, stretching her tight hole open. The feeling of her gripping my cock drove me wild as I lost control, wildly fucking her on the bed, my fingers digging into her thighs, her breasts bouncing as I rocked her body. 

My balls were becoming sore from slapping against her ass but soon even that wasn't a concern of mine. She sprang up with great force and knocked me back on the floor, gripping my wrists and holding me down. I was completely immobile once more. She placed her hands on mine, and as she did, I felt a brief, stinging pain on my hands, and she rode me, hard. She rocked her hips back and forth on me, gyrating, moaning the entire time. 

She started moving her entire body up and down on mine, and that's when my vision started going dark. I could feel my orgasm nearing, and her body trembled around me. I could feel her orgasm clenching my cock, riding me wildly, and as I poured my hot seed inside her, I felt my body going colder, and I went limp on the floor.

At that point I blacked out. I had apparently laid there all night because when I woke, the sun was coming through the window. I sat up slowly, my body was sore, and at that point I realized why my hands stung so bad. There were strange characters carved into both my hands, easily visible thanks to the dried blood. And then I realized where I was laying. There were two concentric circles drawn on the floor, and in between the two were drawn more of the same characters. The woman from the night before, whose name I didn't even know, was nowhere to be found. 



The Key



You walk into my office, take a seat across the desk from me, and lay down a key on the wooden surface in front of me. You're breathing through your nose as your mouth is blocked up by a black, leather muzzle gag - the key fits the padlock that holds the gag in place. You've placed your hands flat on the table in front of you.

Your silky, dark hair hangs to your breasts and down your back, almost the same shade as your black lace bra, matching panties and suspender belt, black stockings and 4-inch spike-heeled stilettos. 

I look across the table - first at you, then at the key. Then I look you in the eye.

"Thank you for returning my property. I presume that the padlock associated with this key is also exactly where it should be?"

You nod, once.

"Good. Leave your hands where they are and stand up," I say, standing myself.

You do so, your heels clicking briefly on the floor as you straighten your legs to leave you bent over the table as I remove the chair.

"Now stay right there and think about what you have done," I say as I re-arrange your dark brown hair so that it all falls down your back, "and when I come back we'll discuss your punishment."

"Mmmf!"

Returning, I hesitate in the doorway to observe my naughty girl leaning over my table, long, stockinged legs running from shiny, teetering heels to firm, barely-clad buttocks.

"I'm glad to see you listened, Anthea." 

I drop some things on the ground behind you as I re-enter, and your head flicks very slightly to one side as the mixture of muffled clumps and clanks makes you start.

"Am I to understand that you regret your earlier outburst?" I place the flat of my hand at the base of your spine and stroke up your back as I walk round to face you again. "That your actions were not what are expected of you?"

You look me in the eye and nod - again just once. I hold your gaze silently for a few a seconds.

"I appreciate your sentiment, but..." I also place my hands on the table, either side of the key you returned to me, and lean so that my face is 12 inches from yours. "...you must appreciate that if you don't do what you are told, you will be punished." Again, I hold your gaze for a few seconds before leaning back and surveying my shapely beauty before me, gagged and expecting her punishment.

"Put your elbows on the table."

You do so, and your black-clad breasts swing closer to the surface of the table as your back becomes almost horizontal. Your hair falls to spread round your neck and the muzzle gag that silences you. As I walk to the pile of equipment I dropped behind you, this time I place a large hand on your right buttock, squeezing it firmly and enjoying the well-made quality of my property.

Having picked some things up, I return to face you.

"Hands together now, Anthea."

You comply, soundlessly, your eyes searching mine. Are you wondering if I will be merciful? Are you hoping it will be over quickly? 

"Punishments must fit the crime, Anthea," I say clasping the first cuff over your left wrist, "so if you are not going to come when I ask you - " the second cuff is fastened securely around your right wrist " - then you are not going to go anywhere."

"Mmmmff!"

With your slender wrists now cuffed together on the surface of the table, I wrap a red nylon rope around the chain between the cuffs and tie it securely in place. I pull the rope sharply towards the edge of the table in front of you, and you bend further as I pull you forwards. Your hips are pulled hard against the edge of the table, and you let a small squeal of surprise escape.

"M-!"

I stop what I am doing.

"You will learn the virtue of silence Anthea - that is what the gag is for, after all." I walk round behind you and place my hand on your right buttock. "But while you are learning, we can certainly use aide-memoires."

You feel my hand lifting and a brief coolness on your skin before it is replaced with the sharp sting of a hard spank. You stumble forwards - moving the whole table - and another squeal escapes your stopped-up mouth.

"Mm-!"

"Oh, Anthea - you must try harder than that."

You know what is coming and this time, as my hand strikes your other rounded cheek, you remain silent. Your breasts dangle quietly in black lace an inch from the table's surface,

"That's better," I say, and return to the rope tied to the chain holding your wrists together.

Being careful to avoid the key in front of you, I take one end of the rope and tie it firmly round the table leg in front and to the right of you. Having done this, I walk round behind you, seeing that both your cheeks blooming pink on either side of your thong, and that your body shivers with the anticipation of a further smack.

I let you shiver in vain and come round to secure the other end of the red rope to the table leg to your left. 

The two necessary spanks have ruffled your hair, obscuring one side of your face. I pull it all clear, gently smoothing it back over your back before re-positioning the key right in front of you.

"This key is mine, Anthea, as is the padlock, these handcuffs, this rope and all the other equipment behind you." I lift your muzzled face with a finger under your chin. "The only thing that is yours, Anthea, is this gag - everything else is mine." You hold my gaze, eager to show your understanding of this fundamental truth.

"You don't help yourself to my things, Anthea - you do what you are told with them." I remove my finger from under your chin, and move to the pile of my equipment before returning to your left side.

"If you are not going to bring me the things I ask for when I ask them, then what is the point in having them?"

I begin winding a second red rope round your left arm, just above the elbow.

"I'm not greedy, Anthea," I say wrapping the rope round your right arm and pulling it tight to the left one, "I don't want to play with all my things at once." I begin winding the rope round both arms at once, and wrapping it round the rope stretching between your limbs to pull it tighter. I know you like the feel of these soft nylon cords on your skin, as I know I like putting them there. I finish tying the last knot. 

"For example," I come round in front of you and stoop to slide my right hand beneath the table top and your increasingly-restrained body, "I'm not going to play with these tonight - "

You feel my fingers on your left breast through the material of your pretty black bra. You look into my eyes, my face only inches from yours as I find the nipple, already hot and hard, and squeeze it between a finger and thumb. I can hear the short sharp breaths from your nose, and feel the heat of them on my face. 

" - and you know how much I like them." I move my hand and squeeze the whole, full globe of your right breast, and you shudder slightly as you feel your breast fill my large hand, revelling in the intimate touch in contrast to the unforgiving touch of the steel and rope binding you. Your eyes roll back slightly, the lids fluttering almost shut.

"But greed is a sin," I say, standing. "We should exercise restraint and self-denial at every turn."

I gather your long, silky hair in my hands and pull it all firmly into a pony tail. The back of your head is pulled up as I do so, and you are forced to look down directly at the key that is the cause of your current predicament. I forgive the little grunt of pain - for now.

"So tonight, as you couldn't exercise the self-denial necessary to leave my things alone", I wrap a rubber band round your hair, and lower the tail into the middle of your back, "you will learn restraint the hard way."

The room fills with the crack of another smack on your exposed backside.

I stand and admire my progress for a few seconds, before leaving the room for five minutes.

-

"Did you think I wasn't coming back, Anthea?"

I re-enter the room from the door behind you, greeted by the sight of my sexy dark brown's figure bent over - and tied to - the table. It is some time since I spanked you on the way out of the room, and the pink has almost faded from your naked cheek. "Were you hoping this was the extent of you punishment?"

You know better than to nod or shake your head. Still behind you, I pick up another red rope.

"Spread your legs."

You comply, moving first your right leg and then your left leg. With the rope in my hand, I snake my right arm up between your legs and the rear edge of the table; as it rubs against your pussy through your thong, you try to wriggle away from it, involuntarily, but your stance doesn't allow you to get very far. With my left hand, I reach under you, take the end of the rope, and withdraw my right arm - rubbing your pussy again.

"There's more to come, Anthea - much more to come."

Standing, I tie the end of the rope around the one I have already tied your arms together with. When it is attached, I go behind your bent form and take hold of the end of the rope that dangles between your legs. I pull on it slowly but firmly, and your elbows move slightly back towards the rear of the table until the ropes tying your shackled wrists to the front of the table become taut. This slight backwards movement of your torso pushes your ass further out and up, away from the edge of the table.

"That's better," I say, pausing to admire this consequence as I notice it. I tie the rope tightly to a stout eyelet set into the underside of the rear of the table.

When I'm done, I survey my handiwork up this point.

My Anthea is bound by steel cuffs at her wrists and red nylon ropes at her elbows. Her large breasts have been squeezed into a bulging cleavage between her arms, and her beautiful eyes radiate a gratifying willingness to please above the shiny leather muzzle gag locked over her mouth. With her upper body now pinned to the table, I know I can now turn my attention to her shapely legs. 

"Thank you for remembering that those stockings and suspenders are my favourites, Anthea."

Unseen by you, I have to re-arrange my cock in my pants as I feel the beginnings of an erection just looking at your underwear from the waist down.

Still behind you, I run my rough hand slowly up the inside of your left leg starting at the ankle.

I move slowly up, savouring the feel of your stockings and the firmness of your thigh, the tenderness of your groin. Your leg fidgets as you feel my hand move from your stocking-top to your bare skin. My hand comes to rest on the fabric covering the lowest part of your mound, and I linger there momentarily, rubbing once, gently, before you feel my touch on the bare skin of your right groin. Your skin is hot to my touch - is it tingling?

"Were you hoping I'd got bored?"

As my hand moves gently down your right leg, barely touching you, I sense a slight squirm pass through your bent-over body as the fine caresses on the inside of your thigh tease you, and I hear your breathing slow and become deeper.

"I'll never get bored of this; I'll never get bored of indulging in the feel of your body, Anthea, in the excitement I can see you get from the lightest of my touches - and the excitement I get from surprising you."

With the fingers of my right hand still tracing slowly down your right leg, my left hand lands another scalding slap on your bare ass above me. You buck, startled, your helpless body lurching away from the sting; a loud "MMMMMFFF!" is proof of your surprise.

"Will you shout out, Anthea? Would you make a sound before your punishment is over?"

Your breathing is loud and fast, as you feel me lay both my hands on your bottom - the skin of the left just-spanked cheek incandescent under the full palm of my hand.

"That was quite mean of me, Anthea, so I'll let you choose if I should punish you for that outburst." I squeeze your ass with both hands.

"One 'MMMF' for no spank at all, two 'MMMFs' for a spank with each hand, and three 'MMMFs' for a spank with just one hand." I squeeze again. 

"What do you say, Anthea?"

"Mmmmf! Mmmmmff!"

"Enunciate, Anthea: was that one MMMF or two?"

"Mmmf! Mm mmf mmmf!"

"Four 'Mmmfs' wasn't an option, Anthea."

I stay where I am and think about this. It takes me a while, but then it registers. My erection throbs.

"You said 'Two, I want two'. Anthea, you want two..." I'd expected you to not fall for the trap of 'no spanks', but didn't expect you to want two spanks.

"You want to feel my palms, my strong, wide palms striking both sides of your bottom?" I squeeze your ass with my hands again, and you can feel my thumbs slipping into the crevice between your cheeks - one thumb gets hooked over the thin strip of black material covering your modesty there, and you feel it pulled a little way to one side.

"Is that guilt? Is that to show me just how sorry you are, Anthea? Do you think asking for the worst punishment will get you in my good books?"

I look along your body as it stretches out in front of me, at your dark brown hair pulled into the pony tail that rests between your shoulders as I consider the implications of your answer. Your breathing is steady, as if you've braced yourself.

"Or is it because you like it; do you crave the brief, sharp pain of being spanked?"

SMACK! My right hand strikes your right cheek, hard. You exhale loudly through your nose.

"That must have hurt, Anthea. Did you enjoy it? Do you want to be punished like this?" Your cheek is bright red, and the shape of my hand is visible on your skin.

"I wonder what you get out of it? Do you enjoy those moments before the hand strikes, waiting helplessly for the spank to come," I lift my left hand from your behind, "is there a thrill of anticipation running through you right now..."

I feel you holding your breath as you brace yourself.

"...does it turn you on to know that it's coming, but there's nothing you can do about it, and you don't..."

You have to exhale, and empty your lungs in a long, loud breath from your nose.

"...know wh-"

SMACK! 

Your head jerks back as my left hand spanks your ass as hard as the right did moments earlier. I think I took you by surprise there, but having just exhaled you are prevented from crying out. You manage to refill your lungs, but your breathing is almost hyperventilation and your whole body rises and falls on the table.

"I can see I'm going to have to re-think what would actually be a punishment for you. Oh - and well done for not falling for the obvious trap of requesting no spanks," I trace a finger round the red handprint on your left buttock, "you have submitted, Anthea, and that is the only choice that is yours to make."

I lift the string of your thong out of your ass-canyon and stretch it before letting go - it pings back down between your cheeks.

"Now - where were we?"

"MmmmMGF!"

"Oh yes - your legs."

I'm still behind you, and pick up your next restraint from my pile of equipment. I survey your long legs running up from your spike heels to the round, reddened flesh of your ass exposed before me. The lace of your stocking-tops is delicate and pretty - I long to touch them and feel the texture of the material stretched around your thigh.

You feel my hand on your left ankle, shortly before you feel a leather cuff being tightened round the calf above it. You feel the slight squeeze as the buckle is fastened, and then straight away you feel my hand on your right ankle. I lift this leg, pulling it slightly further away from the other, spreading you wider. Your high heel clicks on the floor as it comes back down to earth.

You feel another cuff tightened round your right leg.

"Legs together," I order, standing and placing a hand on your back.

You move your left leg inwards, and find that its progress is halted by something jammed between your angles.

"A spreader bar, to keep your legs just where I want them," I say coming round to face you. You look up at me, and I hold your face between my hands. I kiss your forehead, my lips lingering on your skin, as I remove one hand and push it into your welcoming cleavage.

"I'm glad you submitted, Anthea - I'm glad you came back to get what you deserved," I say watching your face as I fondle your right tit, "what you wanted..."

I return behind you, and pick up another rope. I kneel behind you noticing that your mound is more visible between the tops of your legs now that your legs are spread a little wider. I wrap the rope round your right thigh, just above the knee.

"Are you getting hot, Anthea? Is your bondage exciting you?"

You feel the soft cords slide around your leg, surrounding your flesh in a tightening noose. I see you pull your head back, your back arching down towards the table as you do so, and wondering if this will squeeze a nipple out of your bra as your chest is forced between your bound arms. I pull the cords tight around your thigh and then start to wind it round the table leg.

"Do you feel helpless yet?" Your knee bends slightly as your leg is forced against the furniture. I wrap the end of the cord round the loops connecting stockinged leg to wooden leg and tie it off.

"Do you feel at my mercy?" I begin tying another velvet cord round your left thigh. You shift position slightly over the table - are you testing your bonds, or enjoying the sensation?

I tie this rope around your leg and the table leg in the same way that I did previously, and while I am kneeling behind you, my face is level with your pussy - only the thin material of your thong separates my mouth from your lips as I lean closer.

"Can you feel my breath, Anthea? Can you feel my hot breath on your groin?"

I tie off the last knot and stand.

"Do you feel exposed? How does it feel to be bound, gagged and helpless with your ass and pussy up in the air where I can do what I want with them?"

You feel my hands on your waist, feel the press of my hips against your thighs, and feel the rigidity of my erection pressing on your labia through two layers of material. I move away and come round to face you once more. 

What a pleasing sight: your arms and legs are all tied to the table with soft, red ropes holding you tight. Your legs are spread by the bar at your ankles, held there by thick leather cuffs. Steel cuffs enclose your wrists and you are gagged with your precious muzzle. Your bare buttocks, still pink from the last spanks are raised up on high heels and legs and ready for whatever I decide. The key to whole situation remains on the table top.

"Here is your lesson in restraint, Anthea, here is what your submission means."

I leave the room to collect some more things.

-

Your gorgeous, helpless, restrained body is before me.

"Anthea, now you are restrained, I need to be sure you have completely submitted, that you are mine to do with as I please, that you will welcome any punishments meted out for your misdemeanours." I place my hand on your buttock, making you flinch slightly, and run it along your back as I walk round to face you.

"Questions, questions..."

Standing up against the far side of the table, with the key between us, I pull your ponytail down to your back so that you are forced to look up at me.

"Have you submitted to me, Anthea? One MMMF for yes, two for no."

"MMMF! MMMMMff!!"

"So proud, Anthea" I say, smiling and looking into your eyes as I reflect on the implications of your response; my cock goes rock hard as you defiantly hold my gaze.

"So you are going to be hard work." I release your ponytail and go to fetch from behind you some of the items I brought through earlier.

You feel a cold strip of metal on your right buttock, its coolness making your smacked skin tingle. I slide my left hand under the T-piece of your thong, my nails gently scratching your lower back before I lift the material away. You feel the string of the thong pull at your pussy and up through your ass.




The Key



"Fortunately," I say as you hear something go SNIP once and then again, "I love to work hard."

You feel your panties being pulled away between your legs, and you tense as you feel the air on your uncovered pussy. 

"...and I love my work." 

I pick up two items, place my left hand at the top of your right stocking and run my fingers up the back of your thigh, up and over your cheek and along your back as I come round to face you.

"Let's see if these change your mind."

On the table in front of you, on either side of the key, I place a broad black leather paddle and a soft, white wand vibrator. I look at you closely to try and gauge your reaction to these two items, to see if either makes your eyes widen. As I watch your eyes, it appears to me they both do, but I make a decision and pick one of them up again.

"Shall we begin?"

"Mm..."

I consider your raised, round, naked ass.

"So beautiful, but so proud and so..." I place my free left hand on the inside curve of your right buttock while I search for the right word, "...wilful."

"But I'll tame you yet." I remove my left hand.

"I want you to count to ten, Anthea, count as loudly as you feel you need to."

SMACK! I bring the paddle down hard on the fullest part of your backside.

"Mmf!"

SMACK! On the outside of your left cheek.

"Mmmf!"

SMACK! At the top of your left cheek. 

"Mmmmf!"

SMACK! Where your left thigh meets your left cheek; I can hear you breathing hard already.

"Mmmm!"

SMACK! Back in the middle of your left cheek, as hard as I can. 

"Mmf!"

Your head jolts back, dark brown hair still flying as I quickly bring the paddle down again.

SMACK! Towards the inside of your left cheek. 

"Mmmf!" You jump slightly. "Keep counting," I say.

SMACK! Bottom of the left cheek. 

"M-mmf!"

"Does it smart, Anthea?" 

SMACK! Back of your left thigh. 

"Mmmf!"

"Or are you enjoying it?" Your body, restrained before me, is quivering now. My cock is throbbing.

SMACK! Outside of your left thigh.

"Mmf!!"

"Are you tingling, Anthea?" 

SMACK! Inside of your left thigh. You shudder bodily, like you're cumming.

"Mm!"

SMACK! At the base of your back. 

"M-m-mmf!"

"How many's that? I've lost count."

SMACK! Inside of your left thigh again. 

"Mmmf!"

"How many?"

SMACK! SMACK! Both in the middle of your left cheek. I pause, my arm hurting as you breathe hard through your nose.

"Mmm-mmf! Mmmf-mmf!"

"And one more for luck."

SMACK!!

"Mm-mmmf!"

"How does that feel, Anthea? Is your skin on fire?" I place my fingers on the skin of your left cheek. You flinch. "Do you wish you could get away - do you wish you weren't gagged, tied to a table and at my mercy?" A trace an ever-increasing circle round the globe of your buttock, before grabbing the whole thing in my left hand and squeezing the flesh hard. "Or are you exactly where you want to be?"

SMACK! 

"Have you submitted yet, Anthea? One moan for yes, two for no."

"Mmmmf!"

But you're not finished, and I am momentarily disappointed that you've submitted so easily, before you satisfy me with a second grunt.

"Mmmmff!"

"What a strong-minded slut you are, Anthea." I caress the bright red skin on your buttock - you try to wriggle away from my touch, but you can't. "Well, if I can't beat you into submission," I say pushing the erect cock beneath my trousers against your bare pussy, "I'll have to change tack." 

I hold my cock there until I feel you push back against it. 

"Let's see if you respond to a softer touch instead," I say stroking your back with the back of my hand.

I move away from your rear, and place the paddle back on the table. "Let's see if I can reduce you to jelly another way." 

I bend down and start applying little butterfly kisses to your scarlet backside.

I place both my hands around your left thigh, holding it tightly while I kiss all over the skin of your buttock, before moving down and kissing your hip, and your thigh - both the bare skin and where your stocking covers it.

I move my hands, and caress your groin with my left hand while I stand and begin kissing your back in the same way, starting at the bottom, and moving along your horizontal spine with the light touch of my lips fluttering over your skin. 

I kiss along the material of your bra, and caress your back with my hands. You are motionless.

"Still waiting for another spank, Anthea?"

"MMmmmmff."

I push your head forward over your tethered wrists and apply my kisses to the back of your neck, feeling your torso move for the first time since I started - your shoulders squirming in response to my lips.

I kiss up the edge of the gag, and in behind your ears while my hand finds its way beneath your body to your breasts. I caress the bare skin above your bra, and then your left nipple through the material. I caress it while I'm licking your neck, feeling it harden and gently beginning to squeeze it. I start nibbling the tops of your ears and squeeze your nipple harder and harder between my fingers until you cry out at last and try to get away, the ropes tightening, the chain of the cuffs snapping taut.

You can't get away from my lips, my tongue, my teeth and my hands; you're tied to my table, your delicious figure clad in nothing but stockings, bra, muzzle and unyielding red rope. I'm kissing behind your ears with one hand deep in your dark brown hair, holding it, pulling it. I can hear your breath close to my ear, feel you writhing beneath my touch.

Releasing one hard nipple, I move to start nibbling your right ear. I find the other erect nipple and squeeze it hard straight away. The end of my tongue darts in to the most sensitive part of your ear, causing you to jerk your head away quickly. This doesn't distract from the pressure on your nipple though.

"MMMMMMFFF!!" you cry out, your eyes clamped shut.

"Was that a moan of pleasure, Anthea?" I say, standing. I lift your bra strap, and let it ping down, as I bend and apply my tongue to the right-hand side of your ribcage and waist, gently flicking over the sensitive skin and making you squirm again. I clasp my hands round your right calf and my tongue follows the line of your leg from buttock, over hip, and down the thigh to the back of your knee, which I kiss lightly.

"This must be torture for you, Anthea, the soft touch of lips opposed to the strictness of ropes and cuffs, affection instead of a paddle on your bottom." I lift your garter belt and let that ping down to coincide with the word 'bottom'. You jump, and I hear a sudden intake of breath through your nose.

"I won't be using the paddle again," I say before licking up the inside of your leg until you feel my nose just touch your naked mound. "Not for a little while anyway."

You can feel the heat of my breath on the lips of your pussy. You try to force your thighs and backside forwards, but are stuck where you are by the red rope holding you tightly against the table.

"Pleasure before any more pain, Anthea," I say blowing gently on your asshole, "although I'm not sure you know the difference..."

I place my right hand on the skin of your left groin, above the stocking top, enjoying the firm feel of your held flesh, the heat of your skin on my palm. I feel you wiggle and twitch as I start gently biting the skin of your right ass cheek. I move my face over your skin again, lightly nipping every inch of your butt with my teeth. My hand is now caressing your loin, and every few seconds you feel the side of my hand touch you mound. 

I lean my chest on your ass as I start to nip the skin of your back, running both my hands along your sides, and under you to squeeze your tits again. Small sounds are coming out of your gag, like slightly muffed gasps. I break off from nibbling you. 

"Next time, we won't hide those tits away, Anthea," I say squeezing them both. "I think I've denied myself pinning you to the table this way," I bite the back of your neck, under your dark brown ponytail, "I think I'd like to see these perky things on display." I squeeze both nipples with my fingers and thumbs. "Do you like having them slapped as much as your ass?"

"Mmmf m mmf!"

I'm kissing your back again, and pulling my hands back along your sides as I slide backwards off your backside until my hands are gripping your hips. I'm kissing and licking down the inside curve of your ass until I reach the pert bit that provides the definition between buttock and thigh. You fling your head back, dark brown hair flying as I run my tongue along the underside of the firm overhang.

"I think it's time you had a little fun," I say, licking the skin of your groin adjacent to your mound, "and I want to hear you enjoying yourself." I can feel the heat coming off your pussy on my face and wonder how wet you are. "After all, all work and no play makes Anthea a dull girl..."

You're suddenly alone: neither my hands nor my body, not my lips nor my tongue, are touching you. You try to look round, nervous at this sudden denial of touch. You hear a buzzing noise, and look down to discover that the wand vibrator is no longer on the table.

I can see you squirming, trying to close your long legs, attempting to clamp those firm loins together. Your heels skitter slightly on the hard floor as they try to get purchase, or even move any meaningful distance, but the spreader bar does its job effectively.

"Remember, Anthea: I want to hear you."

You feel the vibrating wand's head touch your hood, and I hear you inhale sharply. Slowly, I push it up until I feel the resistance of your pubis. With your clitoris between the two, I just hold the wand in place and let it buzz you insistently.

"MMMMMFFF!"

"Is this better than spanking? Will I achieve your surrender by being nice to you?"

The wand slips slightly as your whole mound gets wetter. "Are you horny, Anthea? Are you getting that excitement of eventual orgasm?"

The vibrator hums away on your clitoris, and I caress your inside leg and ass with my free hand.

"I could do all sorts to you, Anthea, while you're indisposed like this." You're starting to squirm. "I could use you as I wished."

"Mmmf!"

I slip two fingers in and back out of your sopping cunt, just once. "I could slide my hard cock into you, and just hold it there, impale you on it for as long as I wanted and feel you writhe around it, or fuck you so hard we'd move the table round the room."

"I could cover your asshole in lube," I say, slowly running my tongue up over it, feeling your cheeks clench involuntarily, "and push beads-on-a-string up there - one," I press a finger gently against your asshole as I count, "two," I press again, "three," I push my finger in, "and pull them out again."

"Mmmmfff!!" 

"Slowly," I say pulling it back out again as described. 

"I could - " SMACK! " - your bottom until you lost count, until your body screamed in the ecstasy of agony..."

"Mmmmmmmm..."

I can see your hips start to roll, and wonder if your eyes are closed, if you'd be biting your lip - if you could.

"Or I could use the key, Anthea, remove your precious gag and fuck your face until I exploded cum all over it."

"MMmmffff!"

"I could hold this vibrator here for hours, make you cum over and over again, until you thought you couldn't cum again..." I run my tongue up your pussy now, the tip not quite entering you, "...and then make you cum again."

"Mmmmff!" 

Or I could simply leave you here - walk away and leave you tied to this table for days - and no-one would hear you, no-one could set you free - apart from me."

You're writhing on the table, your back rising and falling as you try to control your breathing. "I could do all of that to you, Anthea, all of them, one thing after another, and I could film it all so I could relive this domination of you whenever I chose." 

"MMMFFFF!" I think you like that idea.

"I think you have submitted, Anthea, I think you have surrendered to me and whatever I choose for you and your body." I can't hear the vibrator over your breathing.

"I think you'd like to watch that tape back more than I would."

"You'd want to see yourself walk in, see how sexy you looked in your lingerie, with your dark brown hair, your long legs, and that stunning gag, and see the effect it all had on me, what it drove me to do to you, and what delights it meant for your body." 

I'm having to hold the vibrator as still as I can now, as your hips are starting to buck, your butt almost doing figures-of-eights in front of me.

"I think you want to be used, to surprise yourself with the lengths you can pushed to, I think seeing yourself be used to satisfy someone else's peccadillo makes you horny like nothing else."

"I think seeing yourself so helpless, with all choice removed, is your turn on." 

"Mmmf!"

"I think you want to be tied down so that the teasing and the -, the foreplay are almost infinitely prolonged."

"MMMMMM!"

"I think you want every sensation heightened, every feeling to be electric, to thrill every nerve in your body."

"I think you'll willingly suffer the spanking and the nipple-squeezing, welcome the pulled hair and the discomfort of bondage, because you like to walk either side of that line between pain and pleasure, Anthea - because you know the reward at the end will make you scream like a banshee."

"MMMMMMMMMM!"

Your legs are trembling, your back is bucking and your breathing ragged. You are on the brink, but I sense that you are somehow withholding it until the moment you deem to be right arrives, the perfect moment when pleasure and pain converge, and cause the pressure to blow. I know you're close, that the vibrator can charge you up no further, can impart no further bliss on your clitoris; now you just need something to trigger the release of that pent-up ecstasy...

SMACK!!

"MMMMFFFFFGGGHHH!!"

"MMMMFFFGG... GNNNNNGGGHH!!"

Your back bucks and heaves, your legs spasm, and your hips and ass almost vibrate - the noise is a long, high scream and a low, drawn out guttural moan at the same time. The table moves three inches to one side as your pinioned body shakes uncontrollably. I re-position the vibrator, and try to ride out the secondary tremors moving through your body before a second tidal wave orgasm arrives.

"MMMMmmmmmfff!"

You feel the vibrator's touch suddenly leave your clitoris.

"Decision made: I've decided what I'm going to do with my helpless Anthea".

You feel my left hand placed on your left butt cheek an instant before you feel the length of my cock slide smoothly into your pussy, eliciting a small gasp from behind your gag. I hold myself there, not moving - not withdrawing, not pushing deeper - just keeping you stuck on me, feeling your vagina tighten round me.

"Can you feel it pulsing, Anthea, can you feel my hard cock filling your soft pussy?"

You try to push back, try to waggle your butt to get some friction, but you can't move, impaled on my rod as you are.

"I could stay here all afternoon, Anthea, stay here with my rigid pole ensuring your position."

"Mm!" you whimper, and I push myself harder against you, further into you.

"Could you cum, Anthea? Could your pussy make itself cum even if my cock did nothing?"

I have both my hands on your ass, kneading the flesh, deciding which side is firmer. I hold there, not moving for a minute until you squirm.

"Mmmmff!"

"However, all work and no play makes me a dull boy," and with that I pull myself almost all the way out, causing you to inhale sharply. "I'm going to fuck you into submission, Anthea," I say pushing my erection firmly back into your wet snatch.

"This might take a while, Anthea," I pull out so that my glans is tickling your lips, "and that means we won't get back to the spanking soon," before pushing steadily back in so that my hips rest against your ass.

Your head jerks back as my cock ploughs you, and while your ponytail is splayed across your back I grab it, hold it hard. 

"MMMFF!"

With your hair held tight, and your face pointing at the ceiling I increase the frequency of my thrusts. Your hands are bound, your arms are tied to the table, your legs are spread, and your head is held firm by your pulled hair - I fuck you hard, my hips banging against your bare ass. The table jumps slightly and I hear you moan through your gag again.

"MMMFF!!"

We're like a machine - my rod the steel piston mercilessly plunging the full depth of your pussy-shaft, my cock thrusting repeatedly and exactly balls-deep into your lubricated vagina. Each thrust brings a little moan from your mouth, and a little skip across from the table.

"Mm - Mm - Mm - Mm - Mm -Mm."

"I'm going to fill you with my spunk, Anthea, but you will probably know it's coming before I do." I can feel the end is near for my rigid penis in your hot cunt.

"Your pussy will feel my cock contract, and your pussy will tighten round it," I say still pumping into you hard and fast, "and then you'll feel me tighten, feel my load about to discharge..." 

"Mmmm..."

I feel your vaginal muscles tighten round me, "...and you'll bite your lip..."

"Mmmmf!"

"...and you'll cum an instant before I do knowing you're about to be filled with my spunk."

You shudder and your back bucks again.

"MMMFFF!"

I feel your hot pussy convulse around my cock, and your legs quiver as I pull your hair back even further towards me and you cum again. 

"MMMMFFFGGHHHH!!"

I push myself as far and as hard into you as I can and spurt my load as far into you as I can. You groan a low groan again, as I hold myself where I am, getting my breath back.

"NNNNMMMGGGGHH!"

I slap your ass, give you one more thrust and withdraw, admiring your body as it tries to deal with the aftermath of a third orgasm while unable to move. You are breathing so hard, and apparently struggling to breathe, that for an instant I consider removing your gag. 

My concern passes.

"Was that pain or pleasure?" I ask, my grip on your hair unrelenting.

"Mmmmmmfff..." You are gasping through your muzzle, your eyes shut.

Keeping hold of your hair, I withdraw my sticky cock from your exposed pussy. I can see your lips hot and flushed before me as pick up my last piece of rope - a rough, rasping length of plain hemp rope.

I tie one end to your ponytail and pull it hard back towards me, pinning your head against your spine. I tie a knot in the middle, re-knotting over it twice more so that there is a big rough ball of rope there. I pull the rope tight through the crack of your ass, the rough knot sitting roughly on your asshole, before tying the other end to the spreader bar between your legs. I see your cheeks clench against the knot, trying to get away from it, but it is held down tight against your twitching hole by the tautness of the rope.

"Did I do left or right before, Anthea?" I ask, and you feel the paddle laid on your left buttock.

"Mmm!"

"Which?"

"MMMM!"

"Nevermind; we'll do the right. Count to ten again," I say lifting the paddle. You tense as you wait for it to descend.

No delays between strikes this time; I spank you frequently and hard, as hard as I can with the broad leather paddle.

SMACK! Middle of your right cheek.

SMACK! Top of your right cheek.

SMACK! Outside of our right cheek. You try to shuffle away.

"MMMMMFFF!" You've no time to count, I'm going too fast.

SMACK! Bottom of your right cheek, bringing a little squeal from you as you try to pull your head forward, rubbing the rough knot over your ass.

SMACK! Middle of the right cheek again, which has reddened.

SMACK! Middle of the left cheek.

"MMMF!"

SMACK! On the knot in the rope.

SMACK! Bottom of your back. 

SMACK! Middle of the right cheek again, and you close your eyes, holding back tears.

"MMMMMFFF!!"

SMACK! Top of your right thigh. You jump again, and the knot rubs against your asshole again.




The Key



SMACK! On the knot.

SMACK! On the knot again.

SMACK! The hat-trick.

"MMMMMFFFFF!!"

SMACK! Inside of your right thigh.

SMACK! Left ass cheek.

SMACK! Right ass cheek.

SMACK!! I've put my thumb on the knot and with each spank, as your body convulses, the clump of rope rubs against the sensitivity of your sensitive orifice as the pressure of my thumb forces it to begin to yield to the knot.

"MMMMMFFF!!"

SMACK! 

"Submitted yet?"

SMACK!!

"MMMMMFFF!"

SMACK!! Your right cheek is now as red as the left one was earlier, and your body is tense, trying to move itself away from the paddle's blows, away from the stinging pain they bring.

"No, you're enjoying this far too much."

SMACK!

"MMMMFFF!"

SMACK!!

"MMMFFF!!" you say as the rough knot in the rope finally breaches your asshole. You try to pull your head forward and down towards the key, pulling your own hair to try and pull the knot out of you.

SMACK!!

"MMMMMmmmFFFFfff!"

"I could keep this up all day, Anthea."

SMACK!!

"MMfff!"

"...and I suspect you could, too..."

SMACK!! I give you a final spank and drop the paddle on the floor as you groan.

"Mmmmfff, mmmmfff..."

Your bottom is bright red, dissected by the hemp rope that is cruelly pulling your long, brunette hair. Your stockinged legs are twitching against their red bonds and the table, a tic in one of them causing one of your high heels to 'tac-tac-tac-tac-tac' quickly on the hard floor.

I come round to face you, taking in the tears that have dried, and the eyes that are tightly closed.

"I'll ask you again, Anthea: have you submitted yet? One groan for yes etc..."

Your eyes flash open, moist and tired, but fierce and defiant.

"MMM! MMMF!"

I smile. "That's what I admire about you most, Anthea: your spirit. I look forward to renewing hostilities with you again very soon."

You attempt - unsuccessfully - to find somewhere where your head won't cause the rope to tease your asshole and try to control your breathing, the deep breathes causing your back to rise and fall noticeably. I start to walk away from you and the table you remain attached to.

"Miss Hall will be along in half an hour to unfasten you, Anthea, and then you can return upstairs to your office. Keep the key safe, please, and remember that both it and the gag are company property that I will use as and when I like."

I give your butt one last smack with my hand, SMACK!

"However. You'll be pleased to know that you will be invited for a second interview later in the month: please research what a 'safe word' is as preparation. Good day."

You hear the door shut behind me and, as you steel yourself for your thirty minute wait, my cum starts to drip down between your legs and onto the floor.



The Key



Night time has a way of allowing the desires of the heart to rise without exception. No reality of day to interfere with what is right or wrong, sane or insane, lust or love. It makes no difference. It follows a radar of its own primal, intense, and without restraint. That's what drove him to stop by Kelsey's place at one in the morning. He had thought about her for too long, wanted her for too long, held back by commitments that were not spoken but still there gnawing at him. Although not happy, he was doing what was right not to hurt someone who had continuously hurt him tearing away at his sense of self. 

Now that would end. It had to end so he could sleep at night. Put it to rest one way or another. He needed to make certain in his head and heart once and for all or he'd go mad with the wondering. She had given him a key to her place months ago although he never asked for it. "Your choice," was what she said when she gave it to him. He kept it in the glove box of his car, out of sight, but not out of mind. He'd take it out periodically, look at what it said, a promise unspoken, then quickly replaced it in its safe place and wore his fidelity like a thorny crown about his head. 

Now it had been too long, too long without what he needed to feel like a man again. It had come to this when he stood on the steps of her place, inserted the key in the lock and turned it to enter another world where the unknown would be known. The door creaked like in those haunted movies, but it wasn't scary, more nervous and exciting than anything else. He quietly closed the door behind him. A small lamp was lit in the living room as if expecting him. It gave just enough light to lead him to the stairs where her bedroom held the secret he wanted to discover. 

At the top of the stairs he turned left, the door to the room was open, the bed, the softness of her breathing drawing him in like a siren. She was asleep. He hadn't woken her and that he was grateful. He could look at her without her knowing, see the curves of her body as she lay there, blanket over her, eyes closed, hair about the pillow, and vulnerable. She lay on her side away from him and didn't notice as he undressed and pulled back the covers enough for him to slide in and draw her close. Skin against skin, feeling the warmth as his hand slid over her shoulder down her waist and lingered on her hips as he kissed her neck. She stirred ever so slightly. 

"Hi Baby," she whispered.

He cupped her breast with his hand and twisted the nipple between his finger and thumb and she moaned softly. His erection stiffened and he pressed against the small of her back. He lifted her leg and draped it over his thigh allowing him to slip in between her folds that were moist and beckoned his touch. He slid in between the moist folds with ease as if it were made for him and he took her deeper needing to feel the depth of her, the soul of her femininity, wanting to know her as if it were the first time for both. Sliding in and out, the desire she had for him evident and without a word spoken between them he rolled her to her back to watch her face as he pushed inside of her. 

Her back arched as he penetrated over and over again and again, diving into her pool of no return. She raked her nails over his back, her legs raised above his hips and locked at the ankles. Closer and closer, heat rose, desires burned like a branding iron searing through doubts, and denial to culminate in a fulfillment that went beyond fantasy. Her breasts bobs and he lifted one to his mouth to suckled running his tongue over it. He knows this is her temperature gauge for arousal and his tongue and lips raised it to new heights. Her breaths came in short spurts, his eyes on hers and the wave began.

The ocean of desire cannot be denied when the waves rise and has no other purpose than to crest, erasing the world and going to a place that is both ecstasy and nirvana. The explosion of her orgasm, the writhing beneath him, the splash of her pleasure soaking him urged him to do the same. He plunges into her knowing he has satisfied her, her body now his, claimed and proven, he sought his own release, feeling it climb to the head of his shaft, to linger there momentarily then explode inside her. Spasms of his seed filled her mingling with her own juices that was once so forbidden now a natural coming together without pretense. He kissed her and sealed the rapture. A kiss of the tender release and the world slowly seeped in and as they held each other. It is at that moment he slips out of bed, dresses, and leaves the bedroom, goes down the stairs, through the dimly lit living room, and to the door. 

The night air is cool and inviting as he steps out the door and closes it behind him. The world is different now as he walks to his car, climbs in and starts the engine. The confusion is gone and he smiles as he drives off with a new understanding and purpose and instead of placing the key in the glove box, he places it in his pocket for safe keeping.

THE END



The Key



It's a hot, sunny day and you planned a trip to The Key. Enlightened by the recent incident on the local news of a sexual tryst gone bad, the thoughts of the media frenzy bringing more on-lookers and participants than usual, has you excited. 

You send me a text, asking if I remember how to get to the marina and tell me to hurry my ass up. Naughty fun is on your mind. I pull up in my jeep, you greet me at my door, looking at me and see a smile play across my lips, and know that I am thinking wicked things. I slide back into my thoughts as your fingers caress the side of my face, over my lips, gently teasing me. Anticipating how the day will progress.

As we walked to your boat, Bad Monkey, I think back to earlier, the thoughts I was having on my drive to the marina to meet you. Thoughts of us having sex on the sun deck of your boat. You curled behind me, one hand cupping my breast. I was in between mischief and arousal, comfortable, but with you so close to me my nerve endings were tingling. Your fingers tightened around my nipple, coaxing it into hardness and a soft moan escaped me and encouraged your touch. I arched my back just the slightest bit and felt your hardness swell as my pussy tingled in anticipation. Your hand slid down my stomach, over my hip and between my thighs, lightly running your fingers over my pussy lips, teasing me until you made contact with my clit. 

I raised my leg up allowing you better access and you stroked my button until I was writhing against your hand, so close to cumming. I wanted to feel you, reached behind me until I had your gorgeous cock in my hand. I loved the thickness, my hand felt so tiny wrapped around you. I slid my hand up and down your rock-hard shaft a few times, trying to reach down to stroke your balls, too. I wanted to feel you deep inside me, I was wondering if you had similar thoughts as you drove to the marina. You pulled my hand away and slid your hips forward until I could feel the tip of your cock, the heat radiating off of you. 

With your hand on my hip, you slowly filled me, your thickness creating sensations like no other, it was as if I could feel your pulse radiating into me. You kissed my shoulder as you began to slide in and out of my pussy, whispering into my ear, "I love how wet you get for me." 

Knowing that you were as aroused as I was only turned me on even more, and I found myself arching into your thrusts, trying to get more of you in my greedy hole. I lifted my leg up, and you seemed to hit deeper, a totally different angle. I felt myself sliding closer to cumming, soft moans escaping my lips. With barely a motion, you rolled and had me pinned on my stomach beneath you, straddling my legs. The sudden change in friction set me over the edge. "Oh, Sexy, I'm cumming! Oh, my God!"

I felt the warmth exploding inside me as wave after wave of ecstasy rolled over me. I threw my head back, managed to find your lips as you thrust into me, and the pleasure shot up my body. I loved the feel of your weight surrounding me, the tightness and friction as you slid into my wet pussy even more forcefully, spurred on by my orgasm. I, too, wanted more, and met each thrust, feeling the afterglow of an amazing orgasm growing into another storm. "Do you like me on top of you like this, Sexy?" you growled into my ear. "Do you want to feel my hot cum filling you?"

I moaned in response as I slid my hand beneath me, finding my sopping pussy and engorged clit. I drew circles around my clit with one finger, and could actually feel you swelling inside me as you cried out that you were cumming. I felt waves of another orgasm rip over me just as streams of your cum filled me. You collapsed onto me, your hands wrapped in my hair, both our breath ragged and blood rushing thru our bodies. After a few minutes resting, I imagined myself giggling softly, and you asking, "what are you laughing about?" I turned my head and you could see the grin on my face as I answered, "I'm thinking how amazing it would be to be in this position with your beautiful cock somewhere else." You let out a soft moan of consent and had a grin, too, thinking of things to come.

So here we are, The Key, busy as you had predicted. Naked fun happening all around us. My thoughts were wandering back to my drive, thinking of how badly I wanted you in my ass, but have been afraid to. I was worried I would not be able to handle your thickness, your length, but isn't that precisely what had me so preoccupied and wet any time that I thought about it? 

On the sun-deck with so many onlookers, just yards away, I reached for your hand, pulled it to my lips and began kissing your palm, lightly licking a finger down to the tip, which I gently sucked into my mouth. You smiled down at me, one eyebrow raised in a questioning look, knowing that I was feeling naughty. "Take me right now on the deck, Sexy, I want you to fuck me," I whispered, "I want you to take my ass."

"Are you sure?" you asked, turning our hands around until now you were kissing my fingers, teasing me. I sat up, leaned into you and kissed you deeply, my hand curling around the back of your neck as our tongues entwined. I could not believe how turned on I was, my passion clearly amused you. You could tell how badly I wanted you to fuck me.

"I'm sure. I've been laying here thinking of how you touch me, how I want you to touch me," I whisper against your lips. You respond by pulling me in for a deeper kiss before, telling me, I love how your body feels, pinning me against the deck, your lips capturing mine. Your hands slide down to my breasts, my nipples already hard from your kisses. You pull away long enough to strip me of my swimsuit, noticing we have the attention of others. This has you excited, your cock hard as a rock. I take the opportunity to pull your swim trunks off, as you gaze at the on lookers... 

You bend down and flick my nipples with your tongue, then gently blow, sending shivers down my spine as the cool breeze off the saltwater contrasts with the heat of your touch. You return to my breasts, your fingers teasing the sensitive skin of the undersides as your teeth clamp onto a nipple, the mix of sensations making me weak.

I pull your head up after a few moments for a kiss, push you onto your back and run my tongue from the base of your cock up to the tip, slowly swirling around the head before taking you into my mouth and gently sucking, pressing my hot wet tongue against those nerve endings you enjoy so much. I run my nails down your thighs lightly, sliding as much of your thick cock down my throat as I can. I love the sigh of contentment I hear from you, and drop to my knees, burying my tongue in your balls. You moan more audibly now and lift your knees, allowing me access to your sexy ass, so I flick my tongue at your tight hole, alternating between gentle licks and more probing strokes. I wrap my fist around your cock and gently stroke while I tease your ass. 

I stop in midstream of enjoying your ass with my tongue, as I hear a splash in the water. A young girl, late twenties, approaches the boat, asking to join. We both admire her perky small tits, young firm body, wet long hair and glistening wet bare pussy. She climbs onto the deck, lays beside us. I look up to you Sexy, for permission to enjoy her. You smile silently with your approval.

I move my body over hers, gliding my tongue along her neck while my fingers reach for her tight young pussy. She moans and arches her back, pressing her tits against mine. I glide my tongue to her perky tits as you watch, stroking yourself. Gently biting her erect nipples as I fuck her with my fingers.

I place my mouth onto her gorging clit, while continuing to fuck her with my fingers, reaching for that special spot inside of a woman. A spot she isn't familiar with yet, as with youth, the experience isn't always there. As I suck and tease her clit, rubbing her womanhood with my fingers, she begins to wildly buck her hips. With my free hand, I hold her in place. As I lick her clit, I feel her pussy tighten around my fingers. She explodes with hot juices, her body quivering with the pleasure of her orgasm. I remove my fingers, swirling them across your lips. You open your mouth, to taste her. You moan with pleasure.

I tell her she can watch us. We resume where we left off, me finishing up your ass... 

You reach down for me, kissing your way down my body until your tongue is flicking my clit and leaving me arched and filled with desire. You slide a finger into my pussy, slowly stroking in and out, then add another. Just when I think I can't take anymore, you slide your fingers out and down towards my ass. Using the wetness from my pussy you tease my little rosebud for a moment, then push gently, sliding past that initial resistance. Before I even realize it, you have your finger all the way in and are slowly sliding in and out, your tongue lapping at my pussy then grazing over my clit. You slide your finger out, gather more wetness for lubrication, and then slip a second finger into me, both of us slowly savoring the invasion. I am stunned by the suddenness of the orgasm when it hits me, the feel of your fingers buried in my ass is such a special sensation so different from how you fill my pussy. The girl is watching, wanting you Sexy, to fuck her like that.

You are no longer being gentle, your fingers fly in and out of me roughly, but this just heightens my orgasm. "God, Sexy, I can't stop cumming!" The ripples of pleasure seem to go on forever as I grip your head between my hands and savor every sensation. You slow the strokes of your tongue along my slit, tasting the honey you have so expertly coaxed from me, looking up at me with such a devilish blush. 

"Did you like that?" I nod slowly, nearly incoherent from pleasure. "Are you ready for more?" you ask, in a sultry southern voice that nearly sends shivers up my spine in anticipation. Again I am mute, and can only nod, pulling you up for a kiss, savoring the heat of your body, the taste of my cum still fresh on your lips, mixed with hers. 

You move your hips, spreading my legs until I can feel the thick head of your cock as your move into me. I am struck again at how completely you fill me. You pause to kiss me, my legs wrapping around you to draw you deeper. I kiss and bite at your neck, eliciting soft moans as you arch to allow me better access to your sensitive spots. I kiss your ear, swirling my tongue along the shell of your ear, knowing you are enjoying this as your motions become more forceful. You break away, kiss me more softly, taking the pace down a notch before telling me to roll over. Our eyes lock, and we both know this is what we both have been waiting for, what we both want. Someone watching us.

You pull away, allowing me to roll over onto my hands and knees, glancing at you slightly unsure over my shoulder. You stroke my ass cheeks, slide one hand down to my pussy and murmur, "so wet," almost as if to yourself. When your finger slides into my ass I am ready for it now, aching for it. I sense, more than feel, your body moving behind me. You slide the length of your cock along my slit, gathering lubrication and then I feel the thick knob nudging at what I imagine must seem like an impossibly tiny hole. My fingers find my clit, to tease and distract me. I have a moment of doubt that you will fit, I feel such pressure as you push into me, and then there is that inevitable release after you penetrate that first barrier. You pause, allowing us a moment to adjust, and I continue to lightly stroke my clit to ease the pressure coming from my ass. She watches intently, hoping she will experience anal for the first time.

I slowly push back towards you, letting you know I want more, that I want you to fill me completely. I can feel you tremble slightly, sensations obviously overpowering you, too, as you slowly withdraw almost to the tip before sliding just a little deeper each time. There is silence except for our breathing and her slight moans, my breath coming in short pants as your thickness overwhelms and excites me, my pussy getting wetter and wetter as you slide deeper into my ass. I can't believe how full I feel, how wicked, there is no other way to describe the sensation. I am amazed when you pause and I realize that you have your cock buried to the root. I slide my fingers away from my clit until they graze your balls, gently running my nails along your ass as you are resting tightly in mine. You cry out and propel your hips forward just a little more until I know that you have now, completely taken my ass.

"Fuck me, Sexy," I say hoarsely. You grab onto my hips and plunge into me more forcefully, in long, deep strokes that ensure I feel every long, thick, bit of you. I know I'm not going to last long and my elbows start to splay, my forehead supporting most of my weight now as I am becoming lost in sensations. I can feel your body tense as you pause while buried to the hilt, your breath becoming more shallow. I slide my hands around to my ass cheeks, pulling them apart more, wanting you even deeper now as I feel my body start to tremble with the first ripple of my orgasm. The sensation of me cumming and the sight of me begging you to fuck me deeper sets you over the edge, too, and our cries combine. "Sexy, Sexy," I just whisper your name, my hands slipping to the deck and gripping the surface. 

"Oh, Babe," you cry, and I can almost feel you grow larger, then streams of cum shooting into me. You pull out, letting a little cum dribble onto my freshly fucked hole before sliding back in, pushing me down onto my stomach. Your arms curl up to my shoulders, a finger twirling a stray lock of my hair as you nestle your head behind mine. Our breath is ragged, our hearts are thumping as the blood rushes, only now there is such a sense of satisfaction and completion. I lift my head, turn over my shoulder to kiss you, a grin on my face. My grin is not one of mischief any longer, but of great satisfaction. Our bodies relax, the young girl nestles against us, patiently awaiting her turn.



The Key



Miranda wasn't really listening to her friend however, but she was wondering what the old woman had meant by telling her to let the key be the guide to unlocking the secrets of her own heart. And though those might not have been the exact words, Miranda somehow felt that that was the very meaning behind what the old woman had told her.

They soon after said good-bye to one another, departing off to work and another busy day. Shortly after arriving at her own office, Miranda quickly attached the tiny silver key to the much newer, much nicer chain she was already wearing around her neck. Not too surprisingly, she caught herself gently fingering the dainty ornament several times during the day, the words turning over and over within her mind each and every time she touched it. Almost like a mantra being stated as she attempted to make sense out of the words spoken to her by the crazy, weird looking old lady.

"Let the key be your guide to unlocking the secrets of your heart!" 

Over and over she repeated it to herself, surprised when she looked up to realize it was already well past quitting time. She was to meet her husband Bill at one of their favorite restaurants for dinner prior to going home. Easier that way as it was closer for each of them to do so rather than driving all the way home and then returning. Dinner reservations were for six, so she still had plenty of time as it was a reasonably short drive over. And if nothing else, she'd probably have a few minutes to spare to have a quick glass of wine at the bar while waiting for Bill to arrive. Time enough to think, wondering if she would even share the days adventure with her husband, deciding against it as she retrieved her purse heading out the door of her office.

#

Miranda arrived at the restaurant twenty minutes to six, plenty of time to enjoy a glass of wine while waiting for her husband to arrive. She ordered a glass of Chardonnay, reaching into her purse only then realizing she didn't have a damn dime to her name! She'd spent every cent of cash she'd had on herself for the key, which even now she reached up to finger without thinking. She could certainly put the drink on her credit card, but she felt foolish in having to do so. Bill would no doubt question the minor charge when they worked through the bills together. And though he would care less if she'd spent her money on the tiny silver key, he would in fact raise some objection to her being so frivolous with their credit card.

The bartender stood waiting patiently. Miranda felt her face flush with embarrassment, as the indecision of what to do seemed to take on a life of its own. She started to push the untouched wine glass back towards the bartender when she heard the sound of a man's voice just behind her, simultaneously catching movement just out of the corner of her eye as he began to seat himself down next to her.

"Let me get that," he'd said. "And I'll have one of the same," he added immediately.

Miranda was now even more confused than she'd been a moment earlier. She didn't know whether to thank this strange man profusely, or to act indignant and decline the already purchased drink as she'd seen a twenty dollar bill thrown down onto the counter top, the bartender immediately swiping it up as though knowing Miranda might very well decline the man's offer. She turned to face towards him, still undecided as to what her reaction would be, when she all but swallowed her tongue.

"Hello again!" The dark handsome looking guy sitting next to her said smiling. It was the same man Miranda had briefly shared a look with earlier that morning.

"Brad Edwards," he stated still smiling, extending his hand out towards her in a more official greeting. "Thought I recognized you from earlier this morning, wanted to at least introduce myself, and offer to buy you a drink as it was obvious you'd either misplaced your wallet, or something else had happened to it," he continued now showing a look of real concern on his face for the loss of whatever money she might indeed once had with her. 

He pointed back over his shoulder near the door. "I'd just come in, thought I'd recognized you like I said, when I realized by your look as you fished through your purse that something was wrong. Thought I'd put on my suit of armor and come over and rescue the damsel in distress."

Miranda grinned in spite of herself. "Thank you," she said demurely. "I really appreciate that."

"Would you care to join me for dinner?" he questioned next.

For the briefest of moments, she actually entertained the idea. "Actually, my..."

Her cell phone rang interrupting what she was just about to tell him.

"Excuse me," she said feeling herself blushing all over again as she reached for her purse, feeling extremely awkward. To her surprise, she saw Brad stand pointing towards the restrooms with a boyish grin on his face. She answered, saying hello before covering the mouthpiece with her hand, nodding in understanding towards him before turning her attention back to the call.

"Miranda?" she heard Bill asking in what was an obvious exasperated tone of voice. Obviously, he'd already questioned if she was there.

"I'm here!" she said just a bit too cheerfully.

"Listen, I'm sorry but the meetings still going on, looks like I'll be stuck here at least another hour, perhaps even two. Why don't you go ahead and have dinner without me? If I can, I'll try and make it for desert. But if I'm not there in say an hour and a half, I'll just meet you at home ok?"

Miranda heard herself sigh into the phone. She really had been looking forward to dinner, her appetite ravenous, as she'd been considering one of her favorite dishes all day. "Well ok, but I doubt I'll stick around for desert," she stated letting him know in so doing that she wasn't real happy with being stood up.

"Probably a good idea if we just meet up at home then," he told her simply. "I'll grab something to eat on my way home. See you later." And with that, Bill clicked off without waiting for any kind of a response from his wife. Miranda sat staring at her phone momentarily, irritated though she couldn't quite put her finger on why she was as upset as she was. Bill was after all a very good provider and had given her just about everything she could ever want. Financial security, a nice home...everything but intimacy and romance. In that department, Bill had failed miserably.

Miranda had no sooner finished putting her cell phone back inside her purse when she saw Brad's approach, still smiling at her with that boyish grin. She couldn't help but smile back at him.

"So? Interested in getting something to eat?" he asked her once again.

This time, she barely hesitated. "Sure...why not?"

Gathering fresh drinks, they were soon seated to a cozy little corner booth, semi-circular facing out towards the rest of the diners, yet far enough away to provide them some measure of intimate privacy as well as being sufficiently secluded from the nearest seated table to ensure their conversation wouldn't be overheard either.

"You know, I still don't know your name yet," he began repositioning himself slightly a tad-bit closer to her without closing the distance too much between them to make her feel crowded or uncomfortable.

She laughed, "Miranda..." Miranda caught herself, she'd decided against giving him her last name, leaving it with giving Brad only her first for the moment. He sensed her uneasiness picking up one of the menus that lay on the table in front of them.

"What's good here anyway? First time I've ever decided to stay here for dinner," Brad told her.

"Guess it depends on what you want to spend," she said casually eyeing her own menu now, glad for the awkward reprieve she'd been given. Glancing over the menu herself, she once again realized that this time she would have to put the expense on her credit card, but under the circumstances, Bill wouldn't dare question her on it as he'd basically stood her up for their planned dinner.

"I rarely concern myself with the prices," he said simply without even glancing up towards her. "Feel free to chose whatever it is you'd like to eat," he added only then looking up towards her expectantly.

"Dutch!" Miranda smiled back.

Brad shook his head no. "I asked you to have dinner with me, you accepted, so it's my treat. So...order whatever it is that you'd like. How's the Salmon here anyway?" once again glancing back down towards the menu.

"It's good, matter of fact, I was thinking about ordering that myself."

Their waiter appeared as though on cue, filling their water glasses. "Are we ready to order yet?" he asked them.

They spent the next twenty minutes while eating their salads, enjoying small talk, discussing the freakish windstorm that had blown through the city days earlier, and very little about themselves. As they spoke, Miranda noticed Brad politely toying with his miniature tomatoes, pushing them nonchalantly off to one side of his plate.

"I take it you don't care for tomatoes?" she asked having already consumed both of her own.

"Not really, no." he said surprising her as he then forked one of the small morsels holding his fork up towards her. Miranda surprised herself, opening her mouth just wide enough to accept the proffered enticement allowing Brad to slip it easily inside her mouth where she took it, feeling the fork withdraw slowly as Brad pulled it away. It was a simple act, but a personal one especially under the circumstances. Miranda felt the heat rise to her face almost guiltily as she politely began chewing the succulent fruit.

She noticed that Brad had somehow managed to scoot even closer to her having performed this particular feat without her really knowing it. She felt only the briefest of contact between their legs, hardly noticeable, and so inconsequential that she felt neither alarmed nor uncomfortable by the sudden sharing of her space. If anything, that physical touch between them sent signals that suddenly made her glad she'd worn pantyhose beneath her skirt though that was all she was wearing.

Miranda lifted her napkin in order to wipe the corner of her mouth, feeling as she did the slightest additional touch of Brad's fingernail against her neck as he caught, then lifted the tiny silver key.

"That's an interesting little piece," he told her. "Very delicate, very beautiful, just as it's wearer is."

Once again, that barest of touches sent an electrical shock coursing through her entire being. She was surprised at the intensity of it, feeling her nipples actually harden with announced anticipation, additionally thankful that she'd worn her business jacket though she knew the slightest move one way or the other would most likely reveal the presence of one or the other of her large extended nubbins.

"Thank you, I just purchased it today," she stated.

Though Miranda leaned back ever so slightly, breaking the contact with his fingertip, she did not however scoot away from him on the seat. She knew that to do so would send him a message, and one she wasn't sure she wanted to send him, though cautious enough in having leaned slightly away to let him know that her intent was to be cautious, and move slowly here.

Their waiter arrived with the main course, already beginning to clear away their salad dishes. As he began, Miranda felt Brad shift once again, only this time, instead of closer to her if that were even possible, he moved away slightly. She found herself suddenly disappointed, amazed she would feel so even though the distance between them was still a lot closer than most anyone else seated around the establishment. Nevertheless, Miranda felt a pang of loss, silly that she would feel such a thing over so simple of a movement.

As the waiter retrieved Brad's salad dish, Miranda spotted the lone single tomato as it threatened to roll off the plate and onto the table. On impulse, she gathered up her fork. "Wait!" she actually exclaimed, spearing the tiny red ball retrieving it, noticing as she did the approved, playful expression spreading across Brad's face.

"I was going to ask if you'd like the other one, but I didn't want to push things," he told her, telling her in a unique way that this wasn't really all about the tomato.

She could only smile, nodding to the waiter that he could finish as she drew the tasty delicacy off the fork with her lips, doing so a lot slower than she might do otherwise, enjoying the amused expression on Brad's face as he watched her. Even the waiter paused, suddenly as caught up in this sensual moment as Brad had been. Only when it became too obvious that the waiter was actually staring at her did he suddenly turn, nearly tumbling their empty plates onto the tray, recovering just enough to smoothly begin serving them their main course.

After their waiter had left, Brad laughed. 

"What?" Miranda asked knowing full well what had just happened here between them.

Brad shook his head slightly from side to side already beginning to sever a small morsel of his Salmon with a knife. Miranda began doing the same, shifting her position slightly as she prepared to attack her dinner, and found herself closing the gap between them as once again the contact between her thigh and his was accomplished. She felt a subtle movement from him, though rather than shifting away, he seemed to press gingerly against her in eager welcome, just enough to signal her that he liked the now more permanent contact, as did she.

Unlike before, they now sat eating in near silence more formally enjoying their dinner though occasionally smiling at one another with their eyes. The periodic shifts of their bodies while they ate a constant reminder of one another's presence, an ongoing form of semi-innocent foreplay that was still having every bit as much the same affect as had he been intimately touching or caressing her.

Miranda reached towards her wine glass, feeling her napkin suddenly slide from her lap onto the floor. She made an attempt to retrieve it, too late.

"Allow me," Brad said hunching over slightly as he extended his arm beneath the table. But rather than giving it back to her, he wadded the discarded item into a ball setting it down on the far corner, catching the eye of a passing waiter as he did. "Would you get a fresh napkin for the lady?" he asked, "and two more glasses of wine too please."

This bit of chivalry not only pleased, but flattered Miranda immensely. She felt her cheeks redden once again, returning to her dinner, forgetting momentarily she no longer had a napkin within her lap automatically reaching to find it, and finding instead the hard firm muscle of Brad's thigh as her hand briefly came into contact with it. He neither reacted one way or the other, and to her own surprise, Miranda allowed her hand to linger a moment longer actually giving him an affectionate squeeze.

"Thank you," she told him, only then retrieving her hand as though it had been her intent to have touched, while thanking him in this way all along.

To her immediate surprise, she found her mind wandering, time suddenly standing still as she imagined, wondering the distance where her hand had so briefly rested, and to where his maleness obviously sat. As aroused, as wet as she found herself, she wondered too if he was as aroused as she, and upon closing that small distance, would she have indeed discovered his excitement? "Was he?" she found herself actually thinking.

Miranda felt a small droplet of perspiration gather between her breasts. "Whew! It's a little hot in here don't you think?" she questioned suddenly. Miranda wasn't exactly sweating profusely here, but she knew that if she continued to sit there even wearing her lightweight jacket, she would be.

"I was about to mention the same thing myself," Brad responded. "Would you like me to help you with your jacket?" he asked, already reaching over towards her where she again shifted, this time facing away slightly as he helped her in its removal. "Better?"

"Oh yes, much!" she grinned settling back into her seat as Brad reached around her shoulders gently placing her jacket over the head rest of their booth safely out of the way, yet leaning so close to her that she could almost taste him, let alone finding her head swimming dizzily in the subtle fragrance of his cologne.

Once again she felt the heat spread between her legs, the additional flow of wanton excitement, knowing full well that her now exposed nipples were no doubt pressing anxiously against the thin material of her blouse.

No one but perhaps her best friend Darlene knew of the Sultry, Wanton, Vixen that hid herself just below the surface. Whenever she was in public, Miranda was for the most part shy and somewhat reserved, certainly never a hint of the hot, erotic sensual woman that enjoyed being set free once in a while to explore and so openly enjoy herself. Even her friend Silvia was unaware of some of the things Miranda allowed her imagination to periodically explore.

But she could just hear Darlene leaning over to whisper to her, "M.J., you're high beams are on honey!" she'd state with a giggle and a reassuring approval enjoying Miranda's embarrassed discomfort.

They continued on with their dinner, Miranda grateful that she'd eaten as the third and final glass of wine she'd consumed already alerting her to a giddiness that though not bordering on being really drunk in anyway, was telling her that her guard was down slightly as her normal reserved persona was being threatened by the needful emergence of the sensual woman she truly knew herself to be.

Miranda glanced at her watch. They'd been there well over an hour. And though the likelihood of her husband now arriving to join her was remote, the thought of that mere possibility sent a slight panic through her mind, chasing away that light-headedness and reminding her that she was treading on very dangerous thin ice here.

"I really should be going," she announced abruptly. "My husband will be waiting for me." Miranda turned retrieving her jacket. "There, I said it," she told herself. "Now he knows for certain I am married," though she'd made no movement nor attempt to hide the wedding rings she'd been wearing all night either.

Brad had already received the check having passed on dessert. She'd watched as he'd almost secretly folded a number of bills inside the black leather folder he'd been given with an itemized display of their dinner and drinks. Brad had only briefly glanced at it before inserting their payment, obviously having included a sizeable tip from which he neither expected nor wanted a return of change.

"Where's your car?" he asked helping her back on with her jacket.

"Oh, it's just around the corner," she announced. "Not far, so there's no need to worry about me."

He gave her a puzzled look. "You really don't expect me not to escort you do you?" he stated incredulously. "Even though this is a nice neighborhood and all, there's still one or two creeps that could be lurking about out there you know. I'll see you safely to your car!" It wasn't a request. Miranda actually smiled at his offer, silently accepting it as they walked from the restaurant out onto the sidewalk heading off towards her car. When he took hold of her hand, she allowed it, accepting the warmth and firmness of him as her own fingers interlocked deliciously with his.

It really was a short walk as they arrived at the parking lot where her car was. "Over here," she announced now leading the way. Using her key to unlock the door electronically, the familiar 'beep' reached both their ears several steps away from actually arriving by its side. "Well, this is me," Miranda stated opening the car door, feeling a bit more awkward now and unsure of herself, or the situation.

"Listen, I won't ask you for your number," he began. But she watched as he fished a piece of paper from his pocket that he'd obviously already written his own number down on. It was apparent he'd done so while she'd excused herself to use the restroom shortly after finishing dinner. "I hope...you really will call me. Perhaps we can have lunch, or maybe share a cup of coffee together at the café," he said reminding her of their first meeting.




The Key



Miranda accepted the tiny slip of paper, placing it inside her jacket pocket. Once again she turned towards him prepared to slide down into the seat of her car. Brad looked towards her intently, hopefully. The smoldering heated passion that had been with her all evening long suddenly emerged. Before she knew it, she was kissing him, urgently, needfully. The kiss seemed to have lasted an eternity, and it was she who was surprised when it was he that actually, finally broke it. He held the door open a bit wider so that she could sit down, closing it when she did. Miranda inserted her key, rolling down the window.

"I hope you really will call," he told her.

"I hope that I will too," she thought to herself, only smiling back towards him with a hint of a suggestion that she might.

She drove the rest of the way home in a euphoric mood, aroused more than she'd been or had found herself feeling in months. She laughed outwardly, wondering to herself if she dared share this interesting piece of "dessert-gossip" with her friends when next they joined one another at the café.

"Well, Darlene maybe," she reconsidered, not quite sure that she as yet share such an intimate encounter as this with Silvia, though she trusted both of them sufficiently enough, she wasn't as confident that Silvia might not mention something to someone else where this might eventually find its way back to her husband. Though the likelihood of that ever happening was a near impossibility.

"Still..." she considered. "Perhaps Darlene," who she would indeed get a kick out of surprising, if not down right shocking her friend that she'd been as bold as she'd actually been with a man whom she'd only really just met.

Miranda arrived home to discover that her husband still wasn't home as yet. She hurriedly prepared for bed, safe in the certain knowledge that she'd hear the garage door opening upon her husband's arrival. Miranda quickly reached into the secreted compartment where she now kept that same sweet silver colored toy that Darlene had long ago given her. She felt the device come alive in her hand, purring contentedly as she closed her eyes, allowing the sensation of pleasure to finally release as she fixed the image of Brad firmly within her mind.

#

Miranda doubted she could wait clear until the following Friday to mention anything to Darlene. And besides, she still hadn't made up her mind as to what she might say regarding anything to Silvia as yet. Excitedly, she called Darlene inviting her over to "brunch" as she called it on Sunday morning. Bill would be off with the 'guys' for their weekly golf round as he was every Sunday morning, leaving the time for she and Darlene to sit and visit for nearly as long as they desired without fear of being overheard. For the first time in a long time, she found herself anxiously peering out between the blinds for the sound of her dear friends car and arrival. When she finally did, Miranda met her at the door long before she'd had time to even ring the doorbell.

"Well, so what's so exciting that you just had to get me over here to tell me about?" Darlene asked brushing past Miranda heading towards the kitchen where she knew Miranda would already have a cup of coffee waiting for her.

"What makes you think that?" Miranda asked trying to mask her excitement.

Darlene shot her a knowing look. "Well for one, you waited until today to invite me over, which tells me that you didn't want Bill hovering around for one thing. And for another, you have that same look on your face as the night you told me you'd lost your virginity!"

Miranda blushed turning away to freshen up her own cup of coffee buying some time to compose herself and turn the tables on her friend to some extent. This was part of the game they had enjoyed with one another throughout the years, anxious to tell, but even more excited to see if they could get the other to plead or beg for whatever news there really was.

Darlene seated herself at the kitchen table snatching a banana from the fruit bowl, quietly peeling it. Miranda was too excited to play the game any longer, so she caved.

"You're not going to believe this!" she began, only then watching as Darlene sat the half peeled banana back down giving her, her full undivided attention.

For the first time in recent memory, Darlene neither interrupted nor commented on anything Miranda told her until she'd finally recounted their entire evening together. Occasionally, Darlene's eyebrows did lift in abject surprise, but beyond that, she waited patiently for her friend to actually finish relating her story. Only then did she lean back in her chair once again retrieving the half-peeled banana while she sat silently peeling it before taking a bite.

"Well?"

"Well what?" Darlene said with a mouth half full of the squishy fruit.

"You know damn well what I mean Darlene, tell me...what do you think?"

"What I think is girl friend, that it's been a while since you've had sex is all, and basically, you're simply horny. It sounds to me like all this guy really wants to do is get inside your pants."

Exasperated, Miranda twirled heading back over to the kitchen counter to pour herself yet another cup of coffee, already her forth one for the morning. "It wasn't like that, not like that at all!" she countered indignantly.

"Oh no? Didn't you just finish telling me a few minutes ago that if he'd even suggested getting a room, that you might have actually considered it?"

Miranda set her coffee cup back down on the counter before she dropped it. "The point is, he didn't do that even if I might have entertained the idea. He was a perfect gentleman Darlene."

"And my point is kiddo, that he sounds just a little bit too perfect. It's those kind of men that would have me running off screaming into the night. I'd rather one be up front and honest with me about his feelings or desires, perhaps trying to seduce me subtly yes, but still giving me the chance and opportunity to tell him to fuck off or not."

Miranda sighed. One of the things she'd always loved about her friend was Darlene's sometimes twisted sense of humor. This however was not one of those times.

"Don't you see Darlene? Don't you find it kind of interesting on the very day that I buy this key," she'd already reached up to finger it, "that I see him that very morning in the café? Then later, after that crazy old lady tells me that it will be my guide to unlocking the desires of my heart? I run into him at the restaurant?"

"I think you're reading too much into that Miranda," Darlene stated cautiously. The fact that he ran into you actually, seems a lot more like simple coincidence rather than any kind of cosmic fate."

"You really think it's mere coincidence?" Miranda pressed.

"After one chance meeting, yes I do."

"It wasn't just the one, you forget I saw him that very morning."

"That one doesn't count, you just saw one another, you really didn't meet. Now, if you happen to bump into one another again without telling him where you'll be or what your schedule is, I might start to consider the possibility, though I'd be more inclined to believe he was actually stalking you as opposed to being some kind of 'love destiny' or something."

Frustrated, Miranda returned to the sink and began rinsing out her cup. "I thought you'd be excited to hear all this," she said with her back still facing her friend.

"Trust me kiddo, I am excited. Though to be honest, it would have been a lot more exciting to have actually heard you'd gone and gotten a room with him."

Miranda actually spun away from the sink facing Darlene. "It's not just about sex Darlene, you know damn good and well I don't need a man in order to get off!" she exclaimed indignantly.

"I know that M.J.," Darlene responded attempting to put things back on a more friendly level. "I probably know that a lot more than you are even fully aware of. None of us need a man to have a really nice orgasm necessarily, but it is nice after having had one to feel a pair of arms holding you close afterwards. And until someone invents some sort of vibrating robot, then the likelihood of ever having that without a man isn't very damn likely. All I'm saying is this, be careful with your emotions. You're feeling pretty vulnerable at the moment. You know I told you a long time ago that you should perhaps consider leaving Bill, moving out on your own. Then see what happens. If all you want is sexual gratification, there's enough nice guys out there who are willing to share that with you without all the emotional entanglements that go along with it. At least then you get a few sweet kisses, some cuddling, and maybe a real good orgasm or two along the way without suffering the possibility of heartbreak before you actually get to really know the person you're interested in."

Miranda slumped down onto one of the kitchen chairs beside her friend.

"Just don't go rushing into anything," Darlene warned her. "At least, don't go leading with your heart anyway. Keep an open mind to the possibilities yes, but don't be so taken in by his charismatic charm or boyish grin. You want to simply fuck him, then go for it. You want to fall in love again, then that's something else entirely."

Once again, this was not one of her better days that she'd ever spent with Darlene.

"So...you going to call him?"

"I don't know," Miranda answered honestly. "Maybe."

#

Miranda had agreed with Darlene on one point. If she did decide to ever call him, she'd at least give it a week. It would give her time to actually think about it before jumping into something she wasn't sure she was really prepared for. And she was also curious about the other thing. "Was it fate?" she asked herself. Wondering if she would indeed 'bump' into him again. Perhaps he really was stalking her like Darlene suggested.

Miranda shook her head as though clearing away cobwebs. "Don't be ridiculous!" she chided herself aloud. "The only place I might actually bump into him again is at the café. He knows I've been there, and I don't have any intentions of going back to the restaurant anytime soon either. So if we see one another before then, it either really is fate, or Darlene's right."

Miranda frowned; either choice wasn't necessarily a good one. If she allowed herself to pursue this particular path, it would mean a life-changing decision.

It hadn't been Miranda's initial intent to not meet her friends the following Friday. As it turned out, she was required to attend an early morning meeting at work and had to pass. She did however make arrangements to meet both Silvia and Darlene for an early dinner, especially as Bill would be out of town on business for the weekend. She really wasn't looking forward to spending the night alone, and as neither of her friends had dates either, it was a welcome relief to know she would still be spending some time with them. Perhaps after dinner, a movie, or if nothing else, window shopping which they always enjoyed doing together.

Oddly, she found herself curiously torn, wondering if Brad might indeed be at the café on Friday, something that Darlene assured her she would tell her if he did happen to be there. On the other hand, by her not showing up even if he was there, she would at least not seem too eager, willing or for that matter, available.

"Available," she thought. "Was she?" Or was she just needy? Or as Darlene would so aptly put it, "simply horny." Maybe she was, but she also knew she wasn't happy either. She hadn't been happy for a very long time. Miranda found herself fingering the tiny silver key around her neck. "Would it indeed unlock the pathway to her happiness? Was it indeed the actual key to her heart? Was Brad?"

She actually found herself questioning. Only time would tell.

#

She was to meet her friends at another one of their favorite hangouts, not too far away from the café though in the opposite direction. As she drove slowly down the main street preparing to turn at the next intersection, Miranda glanced over towards the strange little antique store as she began to pass by. Just as she did, she saw Brad emerge from the store walking up the street back towards the café. She nearly rear-ended the car in front of her barely glancing back in front long enough to lock up the brakes of her car, barely avoiding the collision. Even the near miss of that happening didn't fully register, as the thought of having just seen Brad emerge from "Vickie's Treasure Chest" really did seem more than simply coincidental this time.

"What the hell was he doing in there anyway?" she found herself asking until the sound of a blaring horn behind her told her the light had once again turned green. Glancing into her rear-view, she smiled waving, feeling a bit idiotic that she'd allowed her thoughts to cause her to totally forget what she was doing, nearly getting herself killed in the process.

By the time she'd parked the car and joined her two friends, she was visibly shaken and wondering all kinds of things.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost!" Darlene told her the moment she sat down at the table. Miranda threw her a look, whispering just low enough that so that even Silvia couldn't over hear her. 

"I just may have...sort of," she told her. Then mouthed the words, "Meet me in the bathroom!"

Miranda sat her menu down on the table. "Silvia honey? Would you do me a big favor? I need to use the restroom really bad, would you mind ordering for me when the waitress comes over?"

"Sure honey, what do you want?"

"A glass of their best Merlot for starters, then the Ravioli, only with white sauce, oh...and Thousand Island dressing on my salad."

Miranda quickly stood at that point, heading off towards the restrooms.

"You know, I gotta go too," Darlene said standing. Order me the same, only I'll take Ranch dressing ok?"

Silvia shot her a curious semi-knowing look. "You know, one of these days the two of you might actually invite me into some of these little secrets you two have been sharing," she announced with a semi-hurtful smile.

Darlene laughed, shook her off. "It's not like that Sil, I really do need to pee." With that, Darlene headed off towards the bathrooms in search of her friend.

Darlene found Miranda inside the restroom nervously waiting for her. "Well? You want to explain to me what it is that you meant by that?"

"You're not going to believe this," Miranda excitedly began.

"Ok, even I have to admit that's a little weird," Darlene told her once Miranda had actually convinced her that it had been Brad she'd seen leaving the shop. "So, what do you want to do now?"

Miranda grinned, I have an idea, and I don't think it will be too terribly difficult convincing Silva to go along with it," she told Darlene. "After we finish eating, we're going to go back to that antique store!"

As she'd expected, convincing Silvia to go back to the antique store once they were finished eating proved easier than she had hoped for. 

"Cool! I've been wanting to go back there anyway. One of the paintings I spotted last time would go perfectly in my bedroom, and I want to see if its still available!" she announced excitedly. It was the fastest in recent memory that Miranda recalled any of them ever rushing through dinner. They didn't even order a second glass of wine as they normally would have, paying the check and heading out the door in less than a half an hour.

"I'll drive," Miranda volunteered, and though the store was well within reasonable walking distance, both Silvia as well as Darlene seemed elated to drive there as opposed to taking their time walking there instead.

They soon after entered the store, Silvia already making her way over towards the far wall where she'd spotted the particular painting she'd been interested in. Surprisingly, there were three other customers in the shop, two of which stood conversing with the strange old lady.

"What are you going to ask her?" Darlene questioned.

"I don't know yet, something," Miranda responded winging this as it was. She stepped over to a book shelf filled with a variety of knickknacks and began rummaging through them as though appearing interested until she could think up what it was she was going to say and do. While she did, she actually spotted something that caught her attention. A collection of small loaf-sized cedar keepsake boxes stood within the shelving. Miranda had always enjoyed intricate wooden collectables, especially hand-carved boxes like these. She picked one of them up and began toying with it, discovering while she did that it was locked. She briefly attempted to force the lid open wondering if it was just stuck, then gingerly replaced the box once she'd determined that it really was locked and didn't want to end up breaking it.

"Pretty isn't it?"

Miranda was startled, turning to see Mrs. Cravenstance standing beside her. She hadn't heard her come over, nor had been aware that she'd finished talking to the two customers she'd been with moments ago. Miranda looked briefly for Darlene, noticing that Silvia had come over to claim her upon finding the painting she'd come back to purchase.

"Yes, it is pretty," she told the woman reaching in to pick up another one, only this time when she lifted the lid, it opened. The smell of cedar still just as strong as it had probably been when new. "How much?" she asked, noticing that there were no visible price tags attached to the box she was holding.

Mrs. Cravenstance held out her hand, Miranda then giving the box to the old woman to look at. Perhaps there was some secret identifying mark indicating the cost. But rather than do anything like that, the old lady placed the box back onto the shelf, taking instead the first box that Miranda had chosen in the beginning.

"This one's much nicer looking," she said with a grin. "Look's more like something you'd be interested in anyway," she added.

"But it's still locked!"

"Many things are," the old woman told her. "Like I said before, we buy up a lot of estates, many things coming to us 'as is', and we pretty much sell everything 'as is' too. Which is one of the reasons I named this place the 'Treasure Chest'. Sometimes, you might actually find a treasure in one or two of these things. It's a part of what keeps people coming back here. I even had one woman that discovered a very valuable diamond ring in an old antique dresser she purchased. She's been a regular buying customer ever since!"

"This lady really is crazy!" Miranda thought to herself. To give away such a valuable item as a diamond ring without even giving any thought to it, or having remorse at not discovering the piece herself seemed oddly insane.

"Make me an offer," the old woman told her. Miranda laughed.

"Here we go again," she thought to herself, "Forty? Fifty?" she asked before allowing the old woman to even consider the first offer.

"Done! Here let me wrap that for you," she said taking back the box, heading back behind the counter. Silvia and Darlene were already headed that way as well with the two of them carrying the semi-large painting between them. Darlene looked towards her questioningly, reminding Miranda she still hadn't asked the old woman what she'd come here to ask her about in the first place.

"Ah by the way," she began as she stood next to the counter, "I think there may have been a gentleman that came in here earlier, perhaps a little more than an hour or so ago." Miranda described him briefly to the old lady who stood considering Miranda's description.

The old woman thought for a moment. "I don't know, maybe. But the shop's been pretty busy this past little while. I don't recall speaking to anyone that fits that description, but its not to say he wasn't here either. I just didn't speak to anyone that looked like that."

"Well ok, thank you for your time then, and for the box," she added accepting her package.




The Key



Miranda waited patiently while Silvia completed her transaction for the painting, heading shortly there afterwards back towards the restaurant where they had parked their other vehicles. Saying their good-byes, Darlene held back until after Silvia had left.

"So? Find out anything?"

"Not much, she wasn't even sure she remembered him being there. Obviously whatever the reason he was there for, he didn't approach her about."

"Now what?"

"Now...I call him," Miranda stated with finality.

Darlene grinned. "Well, when you do, you know I'll be expecting details girl-friend! Lots and lots of details!"

#

Miranda didn't even bother to wait until arriving home. As she drove, she fished out the slip of paper that Brad had given her from the secret little compartment in her purse. She dialed the number listening to it ring only twice before he answered.

"Hello?"

For a moment, Miranda didn't even speak, suddenly afraid and about to hang up.

"Miranda?"

That stunned her. Hearing him say her name, not even sure that it was, or could be her, she answered.

"Hi Brad," she said nervously, trying to control the excitement in her voice. She felt her pulse-rate suddenly escalate, her breathing becoming quicker, shallow as she fought to take charge of her emotions.

"Nice to hear from you, I was hoping I would."

Again, Miranda fumbled with the words to say. Hearing her voice, Brad hadn't seemed even the least bit surprised to hear from her. Something she wasn't sure that she found either flattering, or annoying. That he was perhaps actually expecting her to call, anticipating it painted her as too eager, too available. And she didn't want him thinking that about her either. Yet, that he'd been pleased to hear that she'd called, "hoping" she would as he'd said it, made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside too. Something she hadn't felt in a very, very long time.

She decided to play coy, taking back control to some extent.

"Well actually, I was cleaning out my purse and stumbled across your number, I nearly tossed it away but then decided I wanted to at least call and thank you once again for dinner the other night."

There was only momentary silence. "Well, you're very welcome. But I was hoping we might have dinner again some evening, or just drinks if you'd prefer. Someplace where you'd feel more comfortable perhaps?"

Now it was her turn to be silent as she considered the invitation. She could end it here, or she could take the next step, see where it went. She was still in control, and knew that she could end things at any moment anywhere along the way if she needed to. And besides...Bill was out of town. There might not be a better opportunity for her to find out more about who and what this man really was. And more importantly, did he have anything to do with the key to opening her heart, or was this simply some fantasy that she was dangerously entertaining?

"Perhaps we could meet for a couple of drinks somewhere," she said hesitatingly, letting him know in saying that, that she had no intention of meeting him anywhere else but wherever it was they were to meet for drinks. She would remain in control, and if things got out of hand, or if she felt uncomfortable being with him, she could leave whenever she damn well felt like it.

Brad didn't push it, hearing precisely what she'd implied by agreeing to 'meet' him someplace.

"How about Jared's? Say around nine-ish? You know the place?"

She did. It was one of the more exclusive nightclubs in town. She'd been there once with her husband when he'd been entertaining some clients. But that had been well over a year ago. She'd even asked her husband to take her back there again, just the two of them since the firm had a membership. But he never had.

"Sounds good," she said demurely. 

"I'll leave your name at the door," he assured her. "Ask for Michael when you come in, he'll know where I'll be waiting for you."

With that Brad rang off before allowing Miranda to say anything else. Not that she would have, or even balked out in changing her mind in agreement to meet him. But he'd effectively kept her from having that option. Still, she smiled feeling much like the high school girl she'd once been about to go on her first ever prom date.

"Shit!" she exclaimed pulling down the rear-view mirror, checking her appearance, running her fingers briefly through her hair. "What the hell am I going to wear?" she asked herself now glancing at her watch. It was already nearing seven-thirty. She barely had enough time to get home, shower, change and meet him there by nine.

Miranda calmed. "Well, if I'm a little late, so be it. If he really wants to see me, then he'll be there," she mused to herself. She slowed the car back down to just under the speed limit of forty-five. Miranda contemplated what outfit she really would wear, something not too sexy or provocative for sure. But something that would at least hint at the smoldering sensuality just below the surface.

She inched her speed back up to just over fifty arriving home just a short time later.

#

Miranda found herself hurrying through her preparations even though she'd already told herself she wouldn't. Putting on a fresh coat of lipstick, brushing out her hair one last time, she slipped into something that she felt would be comfortable and unrestrictive yet hinting at the femininity of a woman who was confident in herself. She slipped into one of her sexiest black lace bras.

"Not that he'll ever see it!" she said aloud to herself. But it made her feel sexy just wearing it. And if she felt sexy, she knew she would be. She chose a loose fitting black silk shirt allowing one button more than she might otherwise allow to remain undone. Just enough cleavage showing to hint at the gentle well rounded slope of her breasts. She dabbed a small amount of Obsession between them, "Not that he'll get close enough to that either," she teased herself. "But perhaps the subtlety of the perfumes fragrance might further disarm and entice him in some way," she further considered.

Miranda slipped into a short, but not too short black matching skirt. Though she wore pantyhose, she wore nothing else, putting on a pair of her favorite open-toed heels, though these too were comfortable enough to dance in if they should do that.

She wondered if they would dance. And found herself once again looking forward to the prospect of being held within his arms while they did. Miranda took one last final check of herself, smiled, and glanced at her watch. She'd be there exactly on time.


#

The place was packed and there was a small line of people who stood outside waiting to get in. Not sure what she was supposed to do, feeling slightly uncomfortable, Miranda walked to the head of the line where one of the bouncers stood slowly letting people in as others left. About to ask for Michael, the bouncer took a closer look at her.

"Would you be Miranda?" he asked. Startled, she nodded her head yes as he undid the rope-chain baring entry, allowing her to pass. "Just inside the door there will be another bouncer," he told her. "He'll point out Michael for you."

"Thank you," she told him and entered inside.

The place hadn't changed much since the last time she'd been here. The atmosphere the same, dimly lit with small candles burning on each of the tables as the only real light source except for on the dance floor, where even there the lights continued changing colors making it difficult to see much or even know for sure who it was you were dancing with. She turned, spotting the bouncer she'd been told to expect sitting on a nearby barstool keeping a watchful eye on the crowd.

"Excuse me, I was told you could point Michael out for me," she told him. He smiled, looking through the throng of people for a moment.

"Over there," he said pointing. "She's wearing the light blue jacket and bow-tie."

Miranda was surprised. She'd assumed that Michael was a man. Heading over towards the longhaired brunette beauty, she felt a pang of jealousy confusing her briefly as there was no reason she should be feeling this way. Brad hadn't indicated that Michael was a girl of course, but there really hadn't been a real reason to unless he thought that her discovery of that might be found to be amusing. It wasn't. Still, she smiled as she approached introducing herself.

"Michael? My name's Miranda. Brad Edwards told me to ask for you."

She was surprised when Michael gave her a warm and friendly smile. "Nice to meet you. Brad's waiting for you, follow me."

Michael crossed over to an upper-stairway, this too security guarded by another tall burley looking man. Seeing their approach, he didn't even hesitate immediately undoing the rope-chain that secured anyone's passing without authorization to the upper level.

Michael led Miranda up a short flight of stairs, pausing at the top extending her hand into the room beyond. Miranda followed the movement spotting Brad as he became aware of them, standing. He smiled. The hint of black light in the ceiling above gave his teeth an almost too white appearance, as was the simple white tee shirt he wore beneath a dark brown suede jacket. He wore Levi's, semi-faded but crisply pressed, penny loafers, no socks. As simply dressed as he was, he looked better than most wearing a tuxedo.

Miranda felt her heart skip a beat even as he waved a 'thank-you' to Michael who was already turning to head back down the stairs.

"Hey!" he told her as she reached him, surprised as he leaned over kissing her lightly on the cheek. "You're beautiful!" he commented, stepping around her, holding her seat.

"Thank you," she said blushing having gotten a quick whiff of Brad's cologne making her head spin with the intoxicating aroma. She spotted what appeared to be a large pitcher of Margaritas along with two large over-sized glasses sitting upside down. Brad picked one up, dipping it quickly in a small bowl before placing it upon another plate full of salt where he then poured her a nice-sized glass.

"How'd you know?"

"Know what?" he responded fixing another drink for himself.

"That I like Margaritas!"

He grinned at her with that same boyish grin she'd seen him give to her before, and again, her heart seemed to flutter inside her chest.

"Ve have vour vays!" he replied in a mock imitation of a poorly done German accent.

"No really? How'd you know?" she asked once again with a nagging thought that had no real basis for making her nervous or leery that he should know, could know something like that.

"Good guess?" he said teasingly. "You just looked like a Margarita person. I like them myself actually. But if you'd prefer something else, I'll be glad to call down and order whatever you'd like!" Only then did Miranda realize there was a small phone placed upon the wall next to them, which he'd begun to reach for. She also noticed that they were also the only people sitting on the balcony overlooking the dance floor below.

"No, that's fine. I do like these," she said taking a sip. "Hmm, good too. Just the way I like them!"

Even as she took another sip of her drink, she noted the appreciative scrutiny Brad gave her with his eyes though careful not to linger too long in any one area. 

"So, how'd you manage this?" she asked looking about the small balcony area that had seating perhaps for a dozen or so couples. 

"V.I.P. area," he announced casually. "That and a few extra bucks to ensure we had some privacy for a little while at least," he said winking at her.

Miranda felt her cheeks redden slightly. 

"Would you like to dance?" he asked suddenly catching her by surprise. The music from one of her favorite artists was playing, slow...sensual.

"Ok!" she responded without even thinking about it. Once again Brad stood coming around from behind to take her chair as she scooted herself out. Miranda began to head towards the stairs.

"Where you going?" Miranda turned, saw Brad as he stepped up onto a small platform, which was obviously a private, intimate dance floor. The primary source of black-lighting now bathing him in its effervescent glow as he stood there beckoning to her like a ghostly apparition as strobes began to slowly pulsate to the melodic beat of the sensual, passionate music. She all but floated across the floor towards him finally accepting his hand as he pulled her into his arms. She felt one strong firm arm securely wrap itself about her waist, the other pressed lightly against the small of her back already beginning to caress her as they began swaying together slowly, magically.

"This is nice, really nice," she whispered, though there was of course no need for her to have done so.

Placing her own arms up and about his neck, she leaned in towards him, her head resting comfortably against his neck, the smell of his cologne once again assailing her senses, causing her a headiness as she drew the scent of his maleness, and the spicy fragrance acting as a perfect balance to his refreshing smell. Miranda felt the press of her firm breasts against his chest, felt each of her tender nipples respond of their own accord as she stood there slowly moving against him. The occasional brush of his leg, his thigh against her, a teasing reminder of just how close they held one another, surprised that she felt no guilt, no remorse at dancing this close, this intimately with a man she had just barely met, never even knew really. And yet, she felt as though she had known him for a life-time, picturing herself lying next to him intimately, romantically in front of a toasty warm fire, glasses of wine sitting near by, and the sound of music, this song perhaps, playing subtly in the background.

"I enjoy the way you dance," she again whispered.

"I enjoy the way you feel," he answered huskily.

Miranda didn't even realize the song had quit playing until the sound of yet another song reached her ears. This one had more of an up-beat tempo to it though, making it awkwardly impossible to continue dancing together the way that they had been. Brad however had seemingly taken no notice of it either, continuing to hold her, still lightly, softly caressing the small of her back. She felt his fingers still tracing intricate patterns through the material of her blouse, causing a sea of goose bumps to crash in waves against her.

"Ah, the songs ended," she announced as though waking from a dream. Only then did he release her stepping back slightly away from her. She took that as a sign that they were to head back towards their table, especially as he reached out once again taking her hand in his. She began to step off the platform, suddenly drawn back towards him as the extension of his arm ran out. With surprising strength, he pulled her back in towards him, where she met him suddenly. His lips coming down upon hers, she...greeting and accepting his when they did. Her mind reeled, swimming in a sea of ecstasy as their tongues suddenly began to dance playfully against one another. The taste of his lips upon hers, drawing in her lower lip to gently suckle, chew before again fencing with her tongue. Likewise, she gave in to the erotic little game they were playing. Locating his upper lip with hers, licking him, kissing, then chewing on his lip softly and tenderly.

"Whew! Oh my God!" Miranda finally exclaimed coming back somewhat to her senses. "I think...I could use another drink," she stated purposely withdrawing her hand from his before he could pull her back, heading almost too quickly back towards their table where he followed. Arriving just in time to help her back into her seat, he bent over planting the softest of kisses upon her neck. She felt every square inch of her body respond to that, especially her femininity that responded in ways she'd not felt now in years.

"I'll be right back," he informed her. "There's something I want to give to you," he stated giving her hand an affectionate squeeze before slipping away heading back down the stairs and out of view.

Miranda quickly poured herself a second Margarita having finished the first without the elaborate process of adding any salt. She took a long healthy pull on it until her thirst was momentarily quenched, though the thirst for something else had only begun with the raging fires of desire making her all to aware of her predicament. She caught herself fingering a button on her blouse, felt as it came undone, wondering as it did why she had done so and contemplated briefly redoing it. Only then did she brush the tiny chain holding the miniature key about her neck. She reached for it instead and held it between her fingers, smiling, wondering.

Miranda looked quickly about. She could see no restrooms on this floor and knew she would have to head downstairs in order to find one. A bit of soft tissue strategically placed would prevent any embarrassing moments as the desire between her legs continue to escalate and present itself. "Worse comes to worse," she mused. "I think there were also some hygiene products in the women's room last time I was here," she considered.

The sound of Brad's return quickly reached her ears. She turned within her seat to face him as he approached, his hands behind his back, the boyish grin upon his face telling her that he did indeed have a surprise for her.

"Pick one," he said giving her what appeared to be some sort of a choice.

Miranda giggled, thought for a moment then pointed towards his left hand. "That one!"

Brad frowned as though she'd picked incorrectly, then allowed his face to explode in excited anxiousness as he brought his hand back around in front of himself, there enclosed a beautiful pure white perfect budded rose. "For you," he said extending it to her to smell. Miranda accepted it, doing so. Delighted at the soft perfumed aroma that came from the tiny perfect white bud.

"Pick another one," he said again, one hand still held behind his back giving her no other options.

Again she grinned, "Ok, the right one!"

Once again Brad held out his hand. This time she saw what appeared to be a tiny light blue box with a bit of delicate lace ribbon wrapped around it. Curiously, she accepted the gift without even acknowledging to him that she was grateful. 

"Go ahead, open it!" he urged excitedly. She did. Inside, a tiny intricately fashioned box greeted her. She fished it out, opening the lid. A velveteen pad inside the tiny box. "It's for your key, someplace to keep it safe whenever you're not wearing it," he explained. "I thought you might like something like that," he added.

"Yes, thank you, I do!" she said happily, still surprised that he would think of such a thing to give her, but answering her unasked question simultaneously. The box certainly wasn't antique, newly made though exquisitely designed. Obviously Brad had stepped into that store in search for something, found nothing, and had simply left.

"You really like it?"

By way of an answer, Miranda stood once again coming into his arms. This time she kissed him even more deeply, more passionately if that was possible. They held their kiss for a long time, once again their tongues exploring, caressing one another until each was left breathless, panting from the erotic foreplay of their lips and mouths so hungrily needful of one another.

This time when Brad began to pull away, she held him close to her unwilling to let him go. Surprised by the sudden show of continued affection, he nuzzled her neck kissing her there, feeling the tiny bumps spring forth as he lightly licked and tickled each one with the tip of his tongue.

Miranda felt Brad's hand as it slowly circled, caressing the small of her back. She felt his fingers gently weave intricate patterns as they began working their way further down until they began to dance on the floor of her ass. Miranda allowed his adventure, reveling in the sensation of so intimate a contact. His continued explorations of her throat with his lips sending shivers of pleasure coursing through her entire being.




The Key



Boldly now and without thought, Miranda placed her hand upon his. She knew the movement would initially send him the wrong signal as she took his hand that had been seductively running small circles upon her ass, placing his hand within hers. She felt him flinch, suddenly aware that he was perhaps being told he'd gone too far, and once again began to draw away. Before Brad could realize it however. Miranda then lifted his hand within hers and rested it gently upon the fullness of her breast.

"Touch me," she breathed into the flesh of his neck as she again pressed herself next to him, trapping his hand between them, securing it. She felt the lightest of touches as with trembling hands he began to run his fingers, then the palm of his hand ever so gently upon the fullness of her breast. Miranda allowed a small moan, escaping from deep within her being as the sensation of such ecstasy exploded deep within the forgotten recess of her mind.

"Oh God, Brad!" she moaned once more as his fingers dug into the softness of her flesh more urgently, more expectantly. She felt him fumble with another button, then another and another. The sudden coolness of the air enveloping her flesh, telling her that he'd undone her blouse completely as she herself then pulled it from the confines of her skirt, revealing the sexy black lace bra that she'd had no intention of allowing him to see.

"It unclasps in front," she heard herself telling him. He giggled, she loved the sound. She felt his deft fingers easily release the catch, then the warmth of his firm, yet soft hands as he claimed each of her twin perfect orbs.

Brad began to move her away from their seats ensuring as he did that no one from below might inadvertently look up from the dance floor and see them. Guiding her back towards the intimate dance stage, she felt the back of one wall suddenly halt his advance. She saw the lights dim even more than they had been as Brad located a nearby dimmer switch, all but throwing them into total darkness with only the barest of light to see by. Even the single burning candle upon their table gave out more light as she glanced over in that direction, nervously assuring herself that they could not be seen, and were still very much alone.

Brad continued to caress the softness of her breasts, his kisses more urgent now, more passionate than even before as they embraced. The warmth of his breath as he trailed a string of kisses down her neck, the touch of his lips upon the upper swell of one breast. Miranda felt herself breathing in deeply, holding it in anticipation as moments later, though they seemed like an eternity, the first contact as he drew in the hard extended excitement that she offered between his soft lips.

"Oh God, Oh God!" she moaned with abandonment.

His kiss, his tickle, and then the slow teasing assault of her nipple sent a thousand tiny prickles of lustful desire through her entire body. Once again she felt a surge of renewed moisture gather between her legs, uncaring now that she did, or that she'd not had time to do anything about it earlier.

He released her aroused nipple, his hand quickly reclaiming it before it had a chance to feel alone or neglected. His lips once again seeking hers in a renewed urgency, pressing against her now, her back supported by the wall as he leaned into her, and she...now boldly into him. 

In doing so, she could feel his own arousal as it briefly brushed against her upper thigh. He began to move away, aware of the incidental contact. But Miranda moved with him, surprised and giddy with her own unadulterated boldness, keeping the contact, though brief still, light as a feathery touch as her hand now trickled down the side of his chest.

"Oh God, Miranda!" Brad allowed his own yearning moan inform her of his rapidly escalating desires. She felt the lightest pinch of her nipples as his fingers claimed each, gently pulling, softly caressing, his mouth once again upon hers as they danced slowly against the wall, their undulations gradually increasing as they moved against one another.

She was almost to the point of no return. Not wanting him to stop, but needing him to. Almost as though having read her mind, she felt a last final touch upon her breasts, then Brad stepped away, releasing her.

"Miranda, you need to know I want you, I want to be with you so very much. But you need to think and consider this before it goes much farther. The last thing I want to do is take advantage of the moment, no matter how perfect it might be...or is. You need to think about this for yourself and decide if seeing me is something you want to do, need to do, as much as I want to do."

She was surprised, slightly disappointed, yet relieved. Almost embarrassedly, she turned reattaching the clasp on her brassier, then buttoning her blouse, tucking it in before turning back towards him. He had given her this moment to recoup having returned to the table where he began fixing them each another drink, waiting patiently for her to rejoin him.

#

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Don't even go there Miranda! You know damn good and well what I mean!"

Miranda laughed. Darlene had given her a direct order to call her the moment she got home no matter how late it might be.

"Tell me everything!"

Miranda could almost picture her friend settling back in her chair comfortably waiting for her to describe in deliciously naughty detail everything that had happened.

"And I mean everything, from the beginning Miranda!"

"From the beginning?"

"Yes. So, what did you wear?"

Miranda did tell her everything. From the very beginning. She fingered the white petals of the rose that now stood in a crystal vase upon her vanity. Next to it, the small ornamental box that he'd given her. As she spoke, she fingered the tiny silver key about her neck briefly before releasing the catch, depositing the key and neck chain safely inside the box before closing it. She looked as well at the other box she'd purchased earlier, once again thumbing the lid as though it had perhaps found someway to open itself. It was still locked.

"Holy shit girlfriend!" Darlene exclaimed when Miranda had at last finished telling her about their evening together. As she'd retold it, Miranda had herself relived each and every moment vividly, describing as Darlene had so aptly put it, "Every naughty detail!" When she'd at last hung up the phone and finally began to prepare for bed, she slipped between the cool crisp sheets, her body once again aflame with desire.

It had been a while since she had actually touched herself. Now, with the urgent need, the unfulfilled desires again burning through her like a raging fire, Miranda succumbed to the sensations of her aroused flesh. She began at the beginning, again. She saw herself as though watching a movie, being escorted up the stairs by Michael where she stood gazing at the boyishly handsome man who stood waiting for her. She could even taste the pungently sweet-salty flavor of the Margarita as she recalled sipping it while secretly glancing towards him over the rim of her glass. Every detail just as crisp and as clear as though she were experiencing it all over again. She felt, remembering the touch of his hands and fingers upon her breasts, touching them in exactly the same way, recalling the sensation, recreating it as closely as possible.

Only this time, unlike before, Miranda continued the fantasy, this time he didn't stop, and this time, she smiled in the sweet ecstasy that claimed her as she envisioned what could have happened, and what...might yet still happen.

#

By the time she'd awoke, it was nearing almost nine-thirty. She'd had one of the soundest sleeps that she'd had in a very, very long time. Rare enough that she hardly if ever slept past eight, even on a weekend. "But nine-thirty?" she questioned aloud, surprised indeed that she had slept as long as she had.

Miranda headed downstairs to make coffee, then showered, her skin still tingling with arousal and excitement. She thought briefly of once again allowing herself pleasure, going so far as to capture momentarily those same exquisite sensations as she soaped and washed her breasts. Finding the willpower however, she hurriedly rinsed, soon after drying off and heading downstairs for that first morning cup of coffee. Silvia as well as Darlene would be there by eleven for an early morning brunch. She began scrambling the eggs in preparation for the omelets they'd be having, and began dicing up the vegetables, all the while imagining and remembering the feel of Brads strong arms, and aroused body as he held her so closely next to him.

"Knock, knock!" she heard Silvia yell out through the back door upon entering without an invitation to do so.

"Morning Sil!" Miranda greeted her friend, noticing a mischievous expression on her friends face when she did.

"What?" Miranda asked watching Silvia as she crossed the kitchen taking a seat at the table and began pouring herself a cup of coffee from a nearby carafe.

"Tell me everything, from the beginning, but I want to hear your version of it," she added.

Miranda couldn't help but laugh. "As soon as Darlene arrives, I'm going to kill her!"

"Oh come on now Miranda! Surely you didn't think that Darlene would keep me out of the loop forever, especially with as tasty a morsel as this one is!" she retorted back. "Now come on, tell me...I want to hear you tell it!"

And once again Miranda did, just getting started when Darlene in fact arrived.

"Oh goody! I'm not too late then!" she exclaimed excitedly taking another seat.

"What the hell are you so excited for?" Miranda asked her. "I already told you everything that happened!"

"I know! But I want to hear it again, just in case!"

"Just in case what?"

"Just in case you left any of the really good parts out!"

"Darlene!" Miranda said with a frozen expression. "I did tell you everything...including the 'good parts!'" she said.

"Oh? Really? And what about after you hung up the phone with me?" she asked pointedly. Miranda blushed.

"Darlene!"

Darlene laughed. "I knew you would, hell girlfriend, I was while you were telling me!" she admitted openly.

"Darlene!" Miranda exclaimed once again. "You're really are incorrigible you know that?"

"I know. By the way, you don't happen to have any fresh batteries do you? I brought a friend a long just in case!"

Even Silvia's eyes widened at that remark.

"Darlene!"

#

Silvia stood at the stove finishing up their omelets. Miranda had once again related the entire experience to her two friends. Only when she'd finished telling them the story once again did Darlene finally ask to see both the rose, as well as the cute little ornamental box she'd described.

"Be right back!" she stated bounding up the stairs. She opened the little box removing her tiny silver key placing it about her neck. She then took the box along with the white rose, and as an afterthought, the loaf-sized cedar box she had also purchased from 'Vickie's Treasure Chest'. Heading back down stairs to join her girlfriends, Silvia was just setting their omelets on the table in preparation for them to be eaten.

"Wow...beautiful rose!" Silvia stated. "You do know the significance of what a white rose means don't you Miranda?"

"I think so yes. Purity? Singularity? "Honesty?"

"All those yes," Silvia stated in agreement. "Virginal too," she added "not that you are of course," she said with a wink. "But it means that he was giving it to you without thought or intention of having any other designs or motives in mind. In other words, he was coming to you openly, honestly with but one thought on his mind, to get to know you."

Miranda smiled, lifting the rose, inhaling, enjoying the sweet fresh aroma of it's almost perfumed scent.

"Let's see the box!" Darlene asked taking it from Miranda. "It really is cute!" she commented, passing it over to Silvia. "Hey, isn't that the box you purchased from the crazy lady?"

"She's not crazy. Well maybe not entirely anyway," Miranda amended handing that box over to Darlene to examine. She too fingered the lid briefly trying to pry it open.

"Be careful with that Darlene. I don't want to break it for one thing. And for another, I thought about taking it to a jeweler or something, perhaps even a locksmith."

Darlene continued to examine the box, turning it over and over within her hands, gently shaking it and even listening when she did. "You know M.J., I think there's something actually still inside here!" she exclaimed.

"No! Really? You think so?" Miranda asked.

Darlene continued to shake it for a moment, still listening. "I really do M.J.! I swear, it sounds like there's something inside anyway. Sort of shuffles back and forth, not too heavy though. Maybe there's something wrapped up inside it with a big wad of tissue paper or something!"

"Let me see that!" Silvia all but demanded. Darlene passed the box over to her. Miranda once again sat fearfully as Silvia toyed with the box as well, giving it a shake, listening just as Darlene had done. "I think she's right Miranda! There really is something inside here. Now...if only we had the key!"

Nervous, Miranda extended her hands out in order to retrieve the box from Silvia before she actually did anything to help force the delicate lid open. As she did, the tiny silver key resting upon the chain between her breasts swung forward catching Silvia's eye.

"You know, wouldn't it be funny if the key you're wearing actually opened it?" she suggested lamely.

Darlene's expression suddenly turned somber. Then wonder filled her eyes. "Miranda? You don't think do you?" she began.

Miranda placed the cedar box down onto the table, immediately removing the chain from around her neck. "This is silly," she began. "There's no way that this key is going to open that box!" Miranda attempted to insert the key. It didn't seem to fit. "See?" she said not daring to force it to fit any more than she had. The key was simply too delicate as it was to risk breaking it inside the lock.

"Try it the other way," Darlene suggested. "Slowly, don't force anything!" she cautioned unnecessarily.

One again Miranda attempted to insert the key. This time is appeared to slide in easily, though that was still no real assurance that it would work. She glanced up at her two friends, holding it, though refusing to make the attempt to turn it.

"What if it does break?" she asked worriedly. "Maybe we should just wait!"

"Turn the key!" both women stated in coincidental unison. Miranda did. The locked turned, the lid opened. Carefully, Miranda turned the key back removing it, she briefly examined it to ensure that it was ok.

"What's inside the box?" They both said in total unison once again. Miranda gently lifted the lid peering inside.

"Oh my God! Look at this!" she exclaimed in complete and total surprise.

#

Inside the antique cedar box sat a stack of carefully refolded letters, all bound together with a faded piece of satin ribbon, once white, now horribly yellowed with age. Miranda carefully withdrew the stack of letters, half expecting them to fall a part, turning to dust. She tugged gingerly on the ribbon, surprised when it pulled open just as easily as it might have the first time it had been tied together.

"Who are they all from?" Silvia asked.

"I don't know." Miranda began to separate the still neatly folded letters, noticing as she did that none were inside envelopes, so there was no address, no last names that she could immediately see. Carefully unfolding the first letter, she immediately noticed the delicate handwriting as well as the date. March 16th, 1939. "Wow! These are pretty old!" she exclaimed excitedly.

Miranda noticed too that each folded letter appeared to have a matching piece of correspondence folded inside. Each of these written in what obviously appeared to be a man's printed response, all dated within a short period of time of the original outgoing correspondence.

"Read one!" Darlene urged now becoming just as excited as Miranda herself was.

Miranda picked the first letter and began. "Dear Wil, It still seems like only yesterday, and not two weeks since you took me to the church dance and held me in your arms. Then later, when you rowed me out onto the lake, and we sat there inside the boat, again with you just holding me gazing at the stars. I thought then it was the most perfect night of my life. That first kiss, the feel of your lips when they first touched mine sent shivers racing up and down my spine. I wanted more, even as I knew you did. But you were a perfect gentleman, so unlike all the other boys I have dated who wanted more. But you weren't like them. You didn't even press me for a second kiss though I wanted one so desperately! Now, you are away from me for three month's while away in boot-camp. I'm not sure how I will survive waiting here to see you again until your return. But I will have that night beneath the stars to remember you by until you come back to me. Affectionately, Grace."

"Now I'll read his response," Miranda told them both. His letter was much shorter, written on what appeared to be some sort of special armed forces stationary that was relatively small, half sheeted with barely enough room to write any kind of a message let alone a decent letter.

"My dearest Grace," it began. Miranda sighed taking a moment to read it again. "I too think of that night often. Nearly every night before I retire to bed. Always exhausted, but thinking of you, and looking forward when I can return to you so that we can share another night beneath the stars together. Yours Truly, Wil."

As Miranda continued to read, each letter seemed to become more personal, more intimate. And though neither Grace nor Wil came right out and said anything that might have been too amorous in nature, it was obvious they were both thinking it, hinting at and eluding to the time when they would soon be together again. There was excitement as Wil wrote an extra letter home to her that said he'd graduated and would soon be there, would soon be holding her in his arms again, and promised to do so, never letting her go the entire time he was home on leave.

After that, there was another series of letters dated a month later, with again matching correspondence, only this time Wil's responses seemed to take longer and longer. It was obvious by the cryptic replies written back to Grace, that he was somewhere over seas that he could not tell her about, nor what he was doing, nor where he was at. Even so, their letters spoke of love and devotion for one another, and finally, a longing and commitment to share their lives together forever when next Wil returned home on leave. Miranda soon discovered that Grace had finally written to tell Wil that she was pregnant. That she wanted the baby even though her family was horribly upset and disappointed in her. They'd counseled her to give the baby up for adoption, secretly, quietly. But that she had refused. She longed for his return, wanting to share the rest of her life with him.

There was no return correspondence to that letter. And there were no other letters that continued on beyond that one either.

"What do you suppose happened?" Darlene asked.

"I don't know. Maybe upon hearing that Grace was pregnant, he got scared or angry that she was foolish enough to have done so. Who knows? Whatever the case, or whatever happened, it appears their relationship ended there," Miranda guessed.

Silvia had sat quietly listening to her two friends refraining from saying much of anything. "I think you're both wrong. They were too much in love, cared about one another too deeply to let something like her pregnancy destroy how they felt about one another. I think something else must have happened."

"Like what?" Darlene questioned.




The Key



"I don't know, but something. It just seems odd to me that things just suddenly ended the way they did, unless there are more letters, more correspondence between them that's either been lost, or tucked away in another box some place."

Miranda shook her head in agreement. "I think you're right Sil. There has to be more to this story than what we've discovered here. Too bad there's really no way to find out what did happen, or for that matter, if either Grace or Wil is still even alive. If either or both of them are, I'd be willing to bet they'd give just about anything to get these letters back."

"There must be some way," Darlene mused. "I know! Maybe that old lady at the antique store will give us a lead. Surely they must keep some kind of records for whenever they buy up these old estates. For tax purposes or something anyway!"

"You might be right Darlene. It's a place to start anyway. And besides, it might be fun trying to discover who these two lovers were..."

"Are!" Silvia interjected once again. "Maybe they really are still alive! Wouldn't it be exciting as hell to see the expression on their faces if we were able to return these letters back to them?"

"Yes it would!" Miranda said smiling as she carefully placed all the letters back inside the box, once again retying the old faded ribbon carefully about them. "Hey...you guys want to go back there with me this afternoon? See what we can find out?"

Sheepishly, Darlene turned her head away though she was smiling. "Can't. Have a date this evening."

"Oh?" Miranda asked in surprise. "Anyone we know? And when did you start seeing someone anyway Darlene? You keeping secrets from us again?"

Darlene laughed. "Actually, this will be our first night out together, so I didn't want to say anything until I saw how things went. And besides, I needed something juicy to share next Friday. If there was anything juicy to share by then," she added with a devilish grin.

"So where'd you meet this guy anyway?" Silvia asked.

"Met him at the gym." Darlene paused realizing she wasn't going to get away with just leaving it there. "He's my personal trainer," she finally admitted. Miranda laughed. "It figures. That good looking guy you told me about who's been working with you these past few weeks. So he's already hitting on you is he?"

"More like me hitting on him," Darlene shot back. "But I do feel better about myself, and hey, I figured why not?"

"Sure...why not?" Silvia said smiling.

"What about you Sil? You want to come with me then?" She too smiled with a blush spreading across her cheeks. "I have a date too," she announced. "Sorry Miranda. Guess if you're going to start looking into this, you'll have to start things on your own."

"Damn! I was really hoping we could get a bite to eat, perhaps see a movie together later or something," she stated disappointedly. Miranda really wasn't looking forward to spending a night all alone, especially now.

"Why don't you call up good old Brad and see what he's up to this evening?" Darlene teased. "I'm sure he's available, and probably dying to see you again. As I believe you are as well!"

"Don't go there Darlene!" Miranda warned her friend. "I seriously doubt I will ever call him, or see him again anyway. True, he was good for my ego and all. But I'm not sure I'm ready to get involved with another man under the circumstances."

"Well, suit yourself M.J., but if it were me. And if he's even half as good-looking as you say he is. I'd be on the phone with him before someone else decides to give him a call. And probably in his bed an hour after that!" she said suggestively.

"You would Darlene. Which reminds me. After your date tonight. I think you owe Silvia and I a phone call to let us know how your evening went!"

Soon after the girls departed leaving Miranda alone with her thoughts. She considered briefly driving down town to see if she could find out anything about where the box had indeed come from, though the odds of ever really finding either Grace or Wil was remote the more she thought about it. Miranda attempted to keep herself busy the rest of the day doing a few much needed chores and some light house keeping. But by four in the afternoon, she'd finished with everything she could think of and found herself looking towards a long lonely evening by herself.

Miranda gave herself an excuse to browse through her purse momentarily, fingered the small piece of paper that Brad had given her with his number on it. Before she knew it, she was dialing his phone number.

She listened to the phone ring three times before nearly hanging it up. Just about to do so, she heard Brad answer. "Hello?"

He sounded out of breath. For a moment, Miranda felt a twinge of unreasonable jealousy run through her. She could just picture him rolling away from some gorgeous female he was with, out of breath, all excited from just climaxing.

"It's Miranda," she replied a bit too frostily. Now mad at herself that she'd sounded so unjustifiably angry with him for no apparent reason. "You sound out of breath. You been running?"

Brad laughed. "Actually, I was getting out of the shower when I heard the phone ring. I was hoping it might be you," he told her with an obvious smile to his tone of voice.

Suddenly, Miranda had a whole different picture bouncing around inside her head as she imagined Brad standing there, wet...with nothing but a towel wrapped bout himself as he stood talking to her.

"Listen, I have an errand I want to run a bit later, but I thought that perhaps afterwards, we could meet for drinks later. Just a couple though as I do have to get up and go to work tomorrow. But I thought just in case you weren't doing anything, or didn't have any plans, that you might be interested."

"Sure! What time and where?" he asked.

Brad allowed Miranda to set the time and place, assuring her that we wouldn't keep her out too late. But recommending and suggesting a couple of different places that she might consider that were quaint, out of the way...and obviously a bit more private than most. She'd finally relented, choosing one he'd suggested and agreed to meet him there by seven-thirty. That would give her just enough time to go to the antique store a half hour before closing. With luck, it wouldn't be busy at that time, and perhaps the old woman wouldn't mind looking through whatever records she might have kept. "Hopefully anyway," Miranda told herself.

As she showered and began to dress for her evening, she found herself once again very aroused, not sure as she changed and applied her make-up, that she wouldn't...if it were even suggested, agree to spending the night with Brad someplace.

"God! If Darlene could hear and see me now!" she said aloud to herself. "She'd just die!" Miranda said with a giggle, feeling much like that lovesick schoolgirl she'd once been and the first crush she'd ever had and felt over her very first boyfriend.

Putting on one of her prettiest sweaters and a nice tight fitting pair of jeans, she'd purposely neglected to include a bra. And though her breasts were certainly full, they were firm enough to not look too noticeably in her not wearing one. "As long as I don't do a lot of jumping up and down of course," she reminded herself with a laugh.

She soon headed out towards the antique store though with very little hope of really discovering anything. And had it not been for the fact she would soon be meeting Brad for drinks, she might have given up on the idea and simply turned around and gone home. But the thought of him standing there all wet wearing nothing but a towel had her smiling with eager anticipation as she drove along.

#

As Miranda entered the dimly lit shop, she heard the familiar jiggle of bells announcing her arrival. Looking quickly about, she learned that there was no one else there at the moment.

"Good!" she thought to herself. "Just as I'd hoped!"

Crossing over towards the counter, she stood waiting patiently. A moment later a very young, very attractive looking woman came from the back area. "We'll be closing soon," she said politely. "But is there something I can help you with?" she asked.

Dejectedly, Miranda answered. "Actually, is Mrs. Cravenstance available? There is something I really needed to see her, and ask her about."

"No, sorry. My Aunt's away for a few days visiting her sister, my other aunt. She's recently become very ill, so she's gone to take care of her. I'm watching the shop for her while she's away."

Miranda thought for a moment. "I guess not. I was hoping to see her about a couple of items I've recently purchased from her, and if there were any more items in the collection that might still be available."

Miranda noticed the young dark-haired woman staring at the tiny silver key about her neck. "Hey, wait a minute!" she said suddenly. "I was told that a woman that meets your description just might return here," she said enthusiastically. My Aunt told me you might be wearing a tiny silver key around your neck. And she also said that if you did come back wanting to purchase anything else, that I was to help you in whatever way that I could!"

Miranda was curiously surprised. "She did?"

"Yes, and it just so happens, she gave me the inventory list of the few things we did keep for resale that we haven't already given away to a few other antique dealers. It looks like most everything we did keep we've already sold, all except for a few old photograph albums. But it's highly unlikely anyone will purchase those any time soon. Beyond that, it looks like you purchased the only real valuable items we had left."

"I don't suppose you could tell me who the collection came from could you?" Miranda asked.

"Sorry no. We do respect the privacy of the individuals we do business with. You understand of course."

"Of course," Miranda said feeling whatever hope she had slowly slipping away.

"I can tell you this much however, I do have the address where this stuff all came from. And though there are new owners of course who now live there, perhaps they will be willing to tell you who they bought the place from. Perhaps that will be of some help to you. But beyond that, that's about the best I can do."

Miranda felt a surge of renewed hope and excitement. "Please yes!" she said a little too enthusiastically. "That would be most helpful to me if you could do that!"

The young woman soon disappeared into the back room, returning a few minutes later with a written down address and name on a slip of paper. "This is the best I can do, I hope it helps," she said smiling.

"I hope so too!" Miranda grinned turning to leave.

"By the way? You interested in those photo albums?"

"Oh, no...but thank you. I think I have everything I was interested in," Miranda told her. She soon exited the store, glanced at her watch. She had plenty of time before she was to meet Brad at the intimate little place he'd suggested. Now excited for several reasons, Miranda once again turned her thoughts back to Brad and how attractive looking he really was. That image of him speaking to her on the phone, wet head and all was one she simply couldn't shake her mind off of. She even pictured herself, joining him there in the shower. "God Miranda! Get hold of yourself!" she thought silently. "You keep acting like a horny teenager, you'll not only scare him away, but probably everyone else too!"

Twenty minutes later she pulled up in front of the cozy, semi-out-of-the-way bar that Brad had recommended to her. She entered. It certainly wasn't an elegant establishment, but it was clean and neat looking. Very few couples were even there, most of which scattered about the establishment with more than enough distance between them to ensure whatever privacy, for whatever reasons, they might want it. Miranda spotted Brad sitting at the far end of the bar as he stood waving her over. He'd somehow managed to snag them a private little booth well away from everyone else.

"You know, we keep meeting like this, people are going to start to wonder," she said jokingly as she approached.

"Let them," Brad replied. He'd already ordered her a glass of white wine, which sat waiting for her. He then ordered another for himself as he'd obviously been there long enough to have had a glass of wine before her arrival.

"You been here very long?" Miranda asked as a way of making small talk. She was nervous, the feeling of butterfly's swarming around inside her chest.

"Only long enough to have one of these," holding up his fresh wine. "Salute!" he added clinking his glass to hers. "To another very special evening."

Miranda took a sip of her wine, peering over the edge of her glass at him as she did. "God he really is handsome!" she thought to herself.

As they had a booth, Brad scooted over a little closer to her. Situated as they were, it was easy for the two of them to spot anyone heading their way. The closest couple even near them was seated several tables away, well distant to ensure private conversation.

"I've been thinking about you ever since you called," he said leaning over even closer to her.

Miranda glanced briefly towards the other couple, their backs towards them. No one else could even see them let alone hear anything.

"I've been thinking about you too," she whispered back huskily.

She felt his mouth brush against hers. Miranda accepted the kiss, feeling his tongue as it began to tickle the tip of her own. She kissed back, forcefully as they now licked, sucked and continued the erotic dance with their lips. It was Brad who finally broke away.

"Have you been thinking about what I asked you?"

Miranda took a moment to collect herself, gathering her thoughts as she took another sip of her wine. "I have been thinking about what you said, yes. I'm just not sure about certain things yet. There's a lot that I need to consider, and come to some sort of a decision on," she said candidly.

"No rush Miranda. You need to know that. You won't feel any pressure from me to decide one way or the other. Whatever you're comfortable with now, is ok with me too. I'm here for you. And if being here for you helps you discover what it is you're looking for, then I will be satisfied in whatever decision that is."

Miranda looked at him curiously. She wanted him, she couldn't deny that feeling. And she felt like he wanted her just as much, if not more so. But it truly was refreshing to meet a man who could be patient, undemanding, and allow her to discover for herself in her own time, what it was she needed and was looking for.

She leaned over and kissed him again. As she did, she unconsciously placed her hand upon his thigh for support. He groaned pleasurably. And though she was no where near his manhood, she once again pictured in her mind, and wondered if he was indeed as aroused as she was rapidly becoming. Miranda allowed her hand to remain where it was, even as she leaned away from him, breaking their kiss. She continued to caress his thigh in gentle circular motions, all the while gazing into his crystal blue eyes. It was then that Miranda felt his hand slide across beneath the table, placing it in near exactly the same position on her leg that hers was upon him. They sat there, simply caressing, teasing one another in a fashion all the while continuing to look at one another, smiling...then grinning.

It became a kind of a game. Miranda felt her cheeks flush with excitement and arousal. The continued slow teasings of her hand and fingers upon his thigh, gradually circling, inching up ever closer towards his groin. She knew that if she continued this much longer, that she would no doubt come into contact with him.

Likewise, as she moved, so did Brad. He allowed her to set the pace, the tone, and the thrill of their rapidly escalating discoveries. She was fully aware that should she continue on, that he too would no doubt do the same. "And where do we go from there?" she wondered.

A moment later, he leaned over to kiss her again. The movement just enough that as her hand traveled upwards on its natural course, she knew in the next pass that she would find him. She had but to remove her hand now, accept the kiss perhaps, yet let him know that she intended to go no farther with this. But even as these thoughts played inside her head, as their lips again met with even more urgency than before, Miranda realized she'd located the firmness of his being. She heard as well as felt Brad's soft mewling groan against her lips. Her fingers now gently tracing the outline of his firmness, the sensation racing through her mind like a bolt of electricity. She couldn't stop herself. Didn't want to. She pressed, her hand seeking him out spreading itself, the palm of her hand resting now, gently squeezing as again Brad groaned deliciously against her neck as his lips began to gently bite, kiss and nip their way across her sensitized flesh. 

Though his own hand had ceased moving at the first touch of her own upon him, she now felt him began to move again. Still circling, very much aware now that he too had begun to move upwards towards the fire that had suddenly blossomed into a full rich blaze, she could again stop it now before it truly got out of hand. Especially here, in the bar. Instead, she found herself spreading her legs a part slightly. And though the Levi's she wore certainly dulled the sensation to some degree, it was the thought of how he touched her, and where as his own hand now pressed, eagerly yet slowly letting her know that he too was just as aroused and needful as she was.

"Miranda?"

He whispered her name as though it were a prayer.

"Yes?" she barely managed to say, her breath heated, shallow.

"What do you say we finish our drinks and get out of here? There's a place I'd really like to show you."

Brad sat back up effectively removing his own hand, forcing her to relinquish her own too. She was somewhat glad for the reprieve, a moment to collect herself, Brad surprising her with making the decision to allow them both a momentary 'time-out'.

"Ok," she said simply, downing the remainder of her wine in one easy swallow. Brad stood, tossing an exorbitant tip upon the table for whoever came to clear away their two simple wine glasses.

Leading her out of the bar, he soon steered her over to where his car was parked. "Don't worry, we won't be gone that long, and I'll bring you back here to pick up your car," he assured her. "It's not that far away."

They were less than a mile from the canyon road that slowly wound itself up to several picnic and lookout areas. It had been years since Miranda had been here. Not since High School when the surrounding property was undeveloped. Where houses now stood on the spot that had once been known as lovers lane. She'd been there once, after a game. It had been the first time that she and Bill had ever kissed, the first time she'd allowed him to touch her breasts, though he'd only done so on the outside of her sweater back then.

Miranda shook the thought away. The last thing she wanted to be thinking about right now was her husband.

"Where are we going?" she asked curiously as Brad continued to following the winding road that climbed ever steadily up the mountain.

"There's a piece of property I want you to see. My family owns it. There's nothing built on it as yet, but perhaps one day..." he said smiling towards her.

Although it was nighttime, a full moon hovered high above them throwing off enough light that it was still relatively easy to see by. A small dirt road appeared off to the right from the main road. Brad took it, easing the car along the narrow path. "It's just up a head now," he explained.

They drove through a thick copse of evergreens lining the dirt road on either side, the full moon now partially blocked from the canopy of branches that reached out from either side, intertwining as though having built a natural tunnel as they drove through it. Then, just up a head, Miranda once again saw the fullness of light as the trees thinned. Brad pulled the car into an open meadow. The stars above twinkling majestically all around them. Brad turned off the ignition, opening his door.




The Key



"Come on," he urged her stepping out. She did so, watching him as he stepped back around the car opening the trunk. Moments later, he closed it, a large quilted blanket held within his arms. He extended his hand towards her. Miranda quickly closed the distance between them, taking his hand, allowing herself to be pulled a short distance away from the car where Brad soon after spread the large-sized blanket on the ground overlooking a gentle sloping hillside that presented them both with an even more spectacular view of the forested valley below them.

"Oh Brad! This is absolutely beautiful!" she exclaimed in surprised wonder. "I never knew this place was even up here!" she added. She heard him laugh. 

"That's because like I said, my family owns much of this. Since it is private property, there have been very few who've even been allowed over into this area. But I thought it might be something you'd enjoy seeing, sharing with me. I love it up here, and often find myself coming up here merely to sit and think."

"I can see why," she stated once again glancing towards the moon, scanning the horizon as the soft light cast interesting shadows upon the landscape below them.

"Come...sit." Brad told her, almost as though he were commanding a pet dog. The thought of which struck her funny, making him realize when she laughed that it had indeed sounded exactly like that.

"Lay down? Roll over?" she now teased back.

Brad grinned, his boyishly handsome features once again causing her heart to skip several beats. "Well, perhaps lay down with me at least. We'll see about the roll over part later," he added lustfully.

Now it was Miranda's turn to surprise him. Before settling herself down onto the blanket next to him, she reached down, easily pulling the sweater she had been wearing up and over her head. Though the night air was cool, it was nowhere near chilly enough to make her uncomfortable. That, and added to the heat of her excitement, having removed that particular garment made her even more comfortable than she had been. But it was the look of delighted surprise etched within Brad's eyes that she'd hoped to see there.

"You really are beautiful!" he commented, reaching up, once again taking her hand, drawing her down next to him there on the blanket. This time, Miranda allowed him to gently ease her over onto her back, his lips urgently seeking hers out as they came together in a fiery embrace. The short time they'd allowed themselves to recoup from their earlier fondling and caressing had left their heated passions smoldering just beneath the surface. As though they had never even left off touching and kissing one another, Miranda felt herself engulfed in a frenzy of desire. She felt her bare breasts pressed delicately against his chest as they kissed. His hand now cupping her left breast, gently kneading it, finding the taut nipple that greeted his welcoming caress.

Miranda reached around pulling on his shirt, easing it up and over the waistband of his pants. She allowed her fingers to run beneath it once she had, feeling the touch of bare flesh as she dug into him, fingernails lightly scratching the firmness of him as his lips began to trace an intricate pattern down her throat towards the upper swell of her breasts.

He paused momentarily, leaving her hanging, expectant, as she had already prepared herself for the sensation of his mouth capturing one of her hard swollen buds.

"Miranda?"

This time she couldn't respond, her breath already stolen, but he continued on sparing her the effort.

"If ever you need me, or can't find me. Chances are this is where I will be. Remember that," he told her simply, then his mouth claimed what she'd already prepared herself for. Her taken breath was claimed even more greedily as she sucked for air, the pleasure and excitement of his gentle lips kissing the softness of her breasts overwhelmed her senses completely.

"Make love to me," she whispered softly, finally finding just enough air to allow the words to float upon the stillness of the night, echoing her unspoken, long unfulfilled desires to explode deep within the depths of her soul.

Brad released her, repositioning himself beside her on his knees as he quickly unbuttoned his shirt removing it. She watched as he then stood, the sound of his belt being removed. The moon sat behind him, silhouetting his form, his features now darkened, unrecognizable. Yet he stood above and before her like an Adonis rising up out of the ash. Miranda struggled out of her jeans, tossing them aside even as he bent to finish removing his own before casting them away to fall upon her own. Only then did he kneel down by her side once again, taking her into his arms kissing her face, her forehead, each eye and even her nose before sucking the fullness of her lips within his own.

He continued to kiss nearly every square inch of her body, slowly, methodically making his way down her torso, lingering a while paying homage to her breasts before pressing on. Her flesh tingled, alive as never before. She felt his tongue lightly spear her naval, planting sweet sucking kisses upon her flesh that sprang in waves of tiny bumps just ahead of him. When he moved, his hands already parting her legs though she were hardly aware of it, she again sucked in her breath holding it as the warmth of his breath came into contact with the now exposed vulnerability of her femininity.

For Miranda, time stood still. The exquisite sensations she now felt as Brad's tongue lovingly caressed her, robbed her of the ability to even think. Awash in a sea of ecstasy, Miranda felt herself floating upwards amongst the stars that twinkled as though knowing the secret of her pleasure. She fell into the depths of them, allowing each one to become a tiny kiss upon her flesh. She spiraled into the depth of the night, the moon her companion as it bathed her flesh in unbridled passion, warming her soul like a pair of soft hands as her body responded in ways it hadn't known or done in years. Even the cry of delight sounded foreign to her as she listened to it pierce the silence of the night, only then realizing it to be her own voice, her own joyous sound of release as she exploded there amongst the stars, becoming one of them.

Afterwards, they had made love, gently, slowly, perfectly. The initial urgency now gone, replaced with an almost too gentle kindness that was yet just as perfect, just as needed as the lust-filled wanton urgency of that first shattering climax.

How long they had pleasured one another no longer mattered. Miranda had lost count of the number of times she'd succumbed to the rapture of bliss. Amazed, that Brad too had successfully joined her there more times than she'd thought possible for a man.

When exhaustion finally claimed them both, they lay quietly entwined, hearts beating as one until the coolness of the night air finally caused them to stir. Now realizing the time, and reluctantly agreeing to finally get dressed and make there way back down the mountain to where Miranda's car sat waiting for her, Miranda settled back into the seat, eyes closed, reliving each and every precious moment she'd just experienced.

Brad saw her safely to her car in the now deserted parking lot. Going so far as to even follow her until reaching the primary highway where they then parted, she heading for home, he, heading back towards the city. By the time she arrived home, the sun was just beginning to peak its head above the horizon. She knew she was in no shape to attempt to work, already having decided to call in sick, catch a few winks, then perhaps spend the afternoon driving over to the address she'd been given in hopes of finding out more about Grace and or Wil, and whatever if anything had happened to them.

#

It was the sound of her phone ringing that actually woke her. Though initially she thought it to be her alarm, and that she'd allowed herself to oversleep. Reaching over to shut it off, the ring continued. Still half asleep, Miranda realized her mistake, snatching up the receiver, irritated, and answered.

"Yes?"

"Hey! You ok Miranda? I called your office earlier. They said you'd called in sick today. Everything all right?" she heard Darlene worriedly asking.

"Oh yes, everything's wonderful actually," she said now dreamily, the irritation now gone as she settled back into her bed, the soft pillow supporting her head as she closed her eyes, the image of Brad standing above her silhouetted by the moon now a permanent fixture within her minds eye. "What time is it anyway?" she asked leaning over to glance at the clock on her dresser.

"Nearly one," Darlene answered for her. "You sure you're ok? You sound a little strange."

"Not strange, just exhausted," Miranda teased back, knowing full well that would spark additional curiosity.

"Don't you dare leave me hanging there!" Darlene warned her. "I take it you saw Brad last night after all?" she continued to question.

"I didn't just see him," Miranda hinted, then giggled unashamedly. "I'll tell you all about it later. Right now, I really need to get up and get dressed. I have things to do, especially before Bill gets home this evening. I'll call you later kiddo."

And before Darlene could even attempt to pry anything more out of her, Miranda hung up the phone, laughing at the image she was sure must have been expressed in Darlene's face as she sat there in stunned disbelief at what she'd just heard.

"No doubt, she's calling Silvia at this very moment!" she mused to herself as she stepped into the shower.

As tired as she still was, Miranda felt better than she had felt in years. She showered quickly, dressed, applied the briefest of makeup and was out the door in less than an hour. The address she'd been given barely a thirty minute drive away. She was in hopes of discovering a lot more than what she knew now, though she figured the likelihood of really learning anything more than she already knew as extremely remote.

The address was an easy one to locate. Pulling up in front of the hundred year old home that was itself an antique, though beautifully maintained, she noticed a variety of children's toys scattered about the front yard. Obviously whoever had moved in to the old place was a much younger couple with children. Miranda shut off the car, stepped out, and immediately noticed a young woman kneeling over a small flower garden weeding it.

"Excuse me, but do you live here?" she asked knowing full well the young woman probably did. But at least it was a way to break the ice before introducing herself, or attempting to try and explain the reason she really was here after all.

At the sound of Miranda's voice, the young woman stood wiping away a bit of unseen dirt from the side of her nose. Her strawberry-blonde hair neatly piled beneath the bandana she wore.

"Yes I do. Can I help you?" she asked with a friendly smile.

"I sure hope so. I'm actually trying to locate the family that used to live here," Miranda began, hoping that by the sound of her voice the young woman wouldn't find that too odd or concerning a question to be asked. "Have you lived here long?" she added, hoping the additional question would keep the young naive looking woman off guard.

"Actually, we just moved in a couple of weeks ago," the woman stated now crossing the yard over towards the fence where Miranda continued standing, not wishing to step into the yard through the gate without being invited. "I think my husbands got some papers with the previous owners name on them. Not sure how much that will help you though, I don't recall seeing an address or anything like that. About all I do know, the people we purchased this place from sold it because one of them died."

"Do you remember any names?" Miranda asked feeling a bubble of excitement swell within her stomach.

"Not sure, but I think one of their names was Grace or something like that anyway. Not sure about the other one who was living with her."

As excited as she now was, she was disappointed to hear that it was Grace who apparently had died. "Do you recall hearing the name Wil? William perhaps?"

"No, wasn't a man's name. Kind of an odd one actually. Can't recall what her name was, funny looking old lady that's for sure. I guess she was living here with her sister, but it was Grace who actually owned the place, though the family took over the property and sold everything. We kept some of the stuff, things they didn't want. But they pretty much took everything else. A lot of old neat looking stuff as I remember."

Miranda really was disappointed now. "Would you mind? I really would like to see whatever documents you might have. It's really very important to me," Miranda near pleaded.

"I guess so, wait here. I'll see if I can locate them for you."

Miranda wasn't sure the young woman would even return. She was half sure she was in calling her husband at this very moment and would no doubt be told to mind her own business, and be on her way. To her relief however, a short time later the woman returned holding a hand full of documents as she once again crossed the yard, this time inviting Miranda to come in.

"This is all I could find," she began handing them over to Miranda.

Miranda quickly thumbed through the documents. There was indeed no address, just the name of the attorney who was obviously handling things, his address, but she did see the name of the party he was representing.

"Grace Richards," she said aloud. That at least confirmed that it was indeed Grace who had once lived here, but she still had no idea what had happened to Wil, if anything.

"Like I said, not sure that really helps much, but I hope you're able to find whoever it is you're looking for."

"Thank you. Actually, it helped a lot. At least now I know I'm on the right track," Miranda said thanking her again, handing the young woman the stack of papers. She turned waving good-bye and walked to her car.

"Oh miss?"

Miranda stopped. 

"I think I just remembered the other woman's name. Like I said, odd sounding just the way she looked. Dotti Craven something or other as I remember. Not sure of the last name. But I do remember her first name was Dotti!"

"Craven? Cravenstance maybe?"

"Yes! That's it! Cravenstance! Weird looking old woman, sort of looked like a stork!"

#

Miranda made it back to the antique shop in record breaking time. With the jingle of the bells announcing her arrival, she was somewhat disappointed to see the young girl she'd spoken to earlier waiting on a customer. Impatient, she stood off to one side making it obvious that she wished to speak to the young woman, who though acknowledging her presence, continued to speak to the customer she'd been with.

Anxious, growing more and more impatient by the moment, Miranda did something she rarely if ever did...or was. And though she normally wasn't rude, the circumstances demanded that she get some answers, and now.

"I'm sorry, but I really need to speak with you. It's a matter of some urgency!" she explained trying to apologize for the interruption, but making everyone aware that she couldn't afford to sit waiting any longer.

The young girl smiled politely, then apologized to her customer as well. "I'm sorry, but if you'll excuse me one moment, I'll be right back," she said directing Miranda off to one side.

"Is there something else I can help you with?" she asked.

"Yes, I need to speak to Dotti, Mrs. Cravenstance," she amended.

"She's still not back, and won't be for the remainder of the week."

"Is there anyway I can contact her?"

"Sorry, no. My Aunt is rather old fashioned and doesn't even have a phone. Dotti has to drive into town just in order to call me and see how things are going. About the best I can do is relay any messages to her if and when she calls me again."

Miranda thought for a few minutes. "Maybe there is something you can tell me. Tell me more about Grace."

"Well, I really didn't know most of mother's sisters all that well. That side of the family never really was very close. Especially Grace for some reason as about all I do know, she was virtually disowned by my grand-parents, though I never really knew the reason why. Dotti's really the only Aunt I've ever been close to. I'm not even very close to Aunt May, who she's visiting and staying with now."

Miranda was even more frustrated. She was getting nowhere fast. If anything, she had far more unanswered questions than she'd had in the beginning. She stood there thinking for a moment.

"You mentioned something about some photo albums? Do you mind if I have a look at those?"

"Not at all, like I said, Dotti thought you might eventually want to look at them, so I kept them out for you."

"She did? That's odd. I wonder why?" she asked not really expecting an answer.

"No idea, only that she said you'd eventually get around to asking about them once things started happening."

Things were getting stranger and stranger by the moment. The young girl soon stepped behind the counter and pulled two large old volumes from off one of the shelves setting them down on the counter.

"Feel free to browse through them. I'll be back in a few minutes after I've finished helping that other customer."

"Thank you," Miranda replied, feeling a little sheepish at having been so demanding with her. "I wonder why she thought I'd want to look through these?" she asked herself once again.

She began flipping through one of the books. She soon came across some old black and white photo's that had to be pictures of all five girls together when they were fairly young. Miranda almost smiled. Even then 'Dotti' appeared to be the more homely looking of all the girls. Though her hair was dark and long, it was still stringy, and if anything made her long pointed nose appear even more prominent than it did now.

She continued to browse, noticeably the girls began to grow, change and develop. As they did, she began to notice something else as well. One of the girls looked vaguely familiar, but Miranda couldn't quite put her finger on why, or what significance that might make. It was when she began leafing through the second book that an eerie thought struck her. One of the women looked amazingly like herself. There were certainly enough differences between them, but anyone seeing this younger picture of one of the women, and a similar picture of herself when her own hair had been a little longer as a young girl. And anyone comparing the two would swear they were truly related in some way!

She was halfway through the second album when she found herself staring at a particular photograph. Stunned, she actually extracted the photo in an attempt to see it more clearly. The image was small, smaller than most. It appeared to be the type taken at a school dance, one of those typical 'sweetheart' photo's. The woman in the photo was the same one that now reminded her of herself, and even more so than any of the others. But what had caused her to nearly faint dead away was the man standing beside her. If Miranda didn't know better, she could have sworn it was the spitting image of Brad, perhaps considerably younger, but Brad none-the-less.

On a hunch, Miranda flipped the photo over and discovered writing that was barely even still legible. It took her a moment to make out the words.

"William and Grace, Valentines dance 1938."

Now she was getting somewhere. But the images she stood looking at haunted her. She felt goose bumps suddenly spread up and down her arms as she continued to stare at the images that still appeared to look more and more like Brad the longer she stared at them. But even Grace's photo reminded her strongly of her own self when she was that age.

"How much?" Miranda asked when the young woman had finished with the other customer and returned to her.




The Key



Katie, my nineteen-year-old sister, sleeps naked.

How do I know? Her bedroom and mine are next to each other, joined by a connecting door. Of course, the door is locked, and only Mom and Dad have a key to it--or so everyone thinks.

One day, Mom let herself into Katie's room through mine. She forgot the key, leaving it in the lock on my side of the door.

I couldn't believe my luck! I grabbed the key and almost ran downstairs, on the way to my car, which was parked along the curb in front of our house.

Mom was busy making Dad's breakfast--scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast, with coffee and o. j. Whether it's sex or food, my parents are boringly traditional. "Where are you going in such a hurry, Tommy?" she called after me.

"Out," I shouted, as the screen to the front door slammed shut behind me.

My heart was racing faster than my car as I drove downtown to the locksmith's shop. Mom would go to retrieve the key she'd left in the door between Katie's room and mine as soon as she remembered having forgotten it. I wanted to be home, with the original key, inserted back into the lock, and the new spare key, in my pocket, before she remembered. Otherwise, unable to find the key, Mom might have the lock on the door changed.

Parking outside the locksmith's shop, I almost sprinted inside.

"Hi, Kevin," Mr. Martin greeted me as I hurried along the aisle to his counter at the back of the store. "What can I do for you today?"

I placed the key on the counter. "I need to get a copy of this key made," I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

He picked up the key, turned it this way and that, and gave it a close examination. I swallowed. Irrationally, I feared that he might somehow recognize the key and know what lock it fit, which would enable him to figure out why I wanted a copy. But he just smiled. "No problem," he said.

As he set to work, I thought, Hurry! I wanted to get the original key home and back into its lock as soon as possible.

After a few minutes, which seemed like hours to me, he was finished. "Here you are, son," he announced, handing me the original key and its newly created bright, shiny copy. "That'll be two fifty, please."

I handed him three bucks. "Keep the change," I blurted, hurrying toward my waiting car.

I was home again in less than ten minutes.

Mom and Dad were having breakfast.

"Tommy?" I heard my mom call as my feet pounded the stairs. I didn't stop.

From downstairs, I heard Dad say to her, "These kids are always in a big hurry to go nowhere and to do nothing."

"Now, George," Mom remonstrated.

That's the last I heard of their conversation, because I'd closed my bedroom door behind me and rushed to the door connecting my room and Katie's, slipping the key as quietly as I could back into the lock so as not to disturb my sister in case she were home and sleeping.

It looked as if I'd succeeded in making a copy of the key. Apparently, Mom hadn't yet remembered leaving it behind.

I decided to give her a chance to remember--and to retrieve the key. I ran downstairs, to my parked car, and drove to Chad Beaker's house.

Chad lived three blocks away, on Naples Street. I'd known him since kindergarten. Now, both of us eighteen-year-old high school seniors who were due graduate in a month, we were best friends. It had been Chad, in telling me about how he'd seen his twin sister Laurie naked, who'd piqued my curiosity about Katie's body.

Upon arriving at his house, his mom had told me to go on up to his room. I had, knocking at his door.

"Who is it?" he demanded, and I'd told him, "Tommy."

"Come in," he'd invited me, and I'd opened the door and stepped inside, closing the door behind me. Unlike my paranoid, straight-laced parents, Chad's mom and dad allowed him to close his bedroom door when he had guests over. Hell, he could even lock it if he wanted, which he did whenever we checked out his Playboy and Penthouse magazine collections.

"What's up?" Chad asked.

"Your cock," I said.

"You wish."

I'd come to hate this repartee, thinking it as stupid as it was adolescent, a carry over from our younger years, but Chad insisted that we continue it. In his own way, he was as traditional as my parents, I thought.

Anyway, now that this asinine banter was out if the way, I could get down to the real business at hand. I'd come to hear again--for the thousandth time--how Chad had come to see his sister naked, not once--lucky bastard--but lots of times.

If it had been Chad who'd brought the topic up, I'd have shut him down at once. I mean, sure, Laurie's a hot chick, but hearing the same old stories about Chad seeing her nude had become old the third or fourth time he'd told them, and it's gotten harder and harder to listen to them since. This time, it wouldn't be hard to listen, though; this time, his stories would be as exciting to hear as they had been the first time I'd listened to Chad recite them. The problem was how to bring up the topic without alerting Chad to the fact that something was afoot.

"Where's Laurie?" I asked nonchalantly.

Immediately, Chad was suspicious. "Why?"

"I'm horny," I claimed. "Maybe she'll fuck me."

"Watch your mouth. That's my sister you're talking about."

"Why the sudden concern?" I demanded. "You've told me enough times about how you'd love to fuck her yourself--if Laurie wasn't your sister."

"That's different."

I snorted. "Yeah? How?"

Chad's eyes narrowed as color rose in his face. He was becoming angry. "Because she is my sister."

"She's your sister, so it's okay for you to say you'd like to fuck her but it's not okay for me to say maybe she'd fuck me?"

Inadvertently, I'd hit on the perfect strategy for bringing up the topic of Chad's having seen Laurie naked without his wanting to know why I wanted to hear the stories again. By making Chad mad, I could keep his attention on his anger instead of on my motive for asking to hear his naked sister stories again--provided that I didn't make him too angry.

"That's right," Chad agreed. "I don't talk that way about Katie; you don't talk that way about Laurie."

It was time to act chastised. "Sorry," I mumbled.

Chad continued to regard me with his narrowed eyes and reddened face, deciding whether to kick my ass or accept my apology. "Okay," he said, his demeanor softening, "but watch your mouth."

"Sorry," I repeated. "It's just that--well, sometimes I think about how you've seen Laurie--you know--naked."

"I should never have told you about that," Chad contended, but I could tell that my mentioning the incident had made him want to talk about it again.

"She was coming out of the bathroom, wasn't she, with nothing on, carrying a pillow in front of her?"

Chad's eyes had a dreamy look. "Yeah," he said, "one time, she was."

He told me the stories again. This time, I listened as if I were hearing the anecdotes for the first time, and it made my dick rock hard. Hell, if I'd had a tape recorder, I'd have recorded him; if I'd had a pen and some paper, I'd have taken down his every word. In general, this is what he said:

We lived in the old house, on Fenton Street. Laurie's bedroom was across from mine. Sometimes, when Mom and Dad were downstairs, I'd hear a noise, as if she'd dropped something. The first couple of times, I ignored it, but, finally, when I kept hearing these same types of sounds repeated at odd moments of the day or night, I'd wonder what the hell my sister was doing.

My curiosity got the better of me. The next time I heard a similar sound, I opened my door and popped my head out. Laurie was across the hall, in her room, but her door was open--and it was open more than just a crack; it was open about a foot and a half, maybe two feet, wide. She had her back to me, and she was bent forward at the waist, with her right foot lifted, putting on her panties. Her whole ass was bare, and I could see the underside of one of her tits hanging out under her armpit. I stood there with my mouth wide open, staring at her creamy, smooth butt and her soft, jiggling boob, watching her straighten up as she tugged her blue silk panties over her calves and up the backs of her thighs to her hips. When she'd pulled them completely on, I realized that they were thongs! My God! I remember thinking, my sister wears thongs!

That was the first time I ever saw Laurie naked, but it wasn't the last. I'd hear the noises again--a bumping sound or a crashing sound or a thumping sound--and, sure enough, when I'd open the door, she'd be standing there, across the hall from me, in her bedroom, with her door half open, naked or half naked. She'd always act as if she were unaware of me, though, but I knew she wasn't. The bumps and crashes and thumps were signals, not accidents. These noises, always when Mom and Dad were downstairs or away from home, were intentional. They were her way of letting me know that she was putting on a show.

Piece by piece, so to speak, I got to see all her charms--her tits, her ass, her cunt. She's damned pretty, Tommy. You know that? Damned pretty. And she dyes her pussy hair to match the hair on her head, so she's a peroxide blonde above and below. Of course, she keeps her bush neatly trimmed. Once, I saw the cleft of her cunt and the pink flesh inside her pussy lips. She was lying on her bed, with her door wide open this time, pulling on a pair of tight jeans. She wasn't wearing any panties, and, as she wriggled around, trying to pull her jeans up, her pussy lips parted once or twice, and I saw inside. God, there's nothing prettier than the pink inside a cunt. The crayon companies should come out with a Pussy Pink color. 

Anyway, Laurie got bolder and bolder. One day, I heard the Pussy Signal, and I open my door to see that she'd come completely out of her room. She was walking down the hall, with just a pillow in front of her, and I could see her tight, cute ass sashaying back and forth and kind of rolling up and down at the same time, and my cock was hard, man, like fucking steel. She went into the bathroom and shut the door. Of course, I stood there, waiting to hear the bathroom door open again--thank God, it creaked. When I heard the sound, I was waiting, and I saw her coming back up the hallway to her room, with that pillow in front of her, blocking her tits and cunt. All I could see were her legs, from the thighs down, and I wondered why Laurie' had had this sudden attack of modesty. Then, when she was right across from my doorway, where I was standing with the damned door wide open, she started with a jerk of her shoulders and a little gasp, her head turning to me. She stared at me with her eyes wide and her mouth agape, as if she were shocked to see me--and dropped that fucking pillow! Man, I saw everything--tits, with stiff, jutting nipples; puffy areolas; tiny navel button inside the flat, smooth plain of her belly; trim blonde bush--everything.

"Chad!" she whispered, as if she were surprised. "I didn't know you were there!" Even then, she made no move to pick up the pillow or hightail it to her room. Pretending to be paralyzed with shock or outrage or embarrassment or whatever, she stood there, letting me look at her naked body for half a minute or more. Then, she snatched the pillow from the floor and scurried into her room, giving me another look at her bare ass in the process. She didn't slam her door; she shut it ever so gently. Sometimes, I think maybe Laurie was trying to get me to do more than look at her naked body.

That's the way he concluded his anecdotes--the same way as always, having recited the exact words he's used all the many other times he's recounted these same stories and ending his accounts with the same statement: "Sometimes, I think maybe Laurie was trying to get me to do more than look at her naked body."

I've never asked him this question before, but, feeling perverse--and living dangerously--I decide to tweak him with it this time, so I ask, "Have you and Laurie ever dome anything?"

He scrunches up his brow at me. "Like what?"

"You know."

"Hell no! That's fucking gross, man. Laurie's my sister."

"She doesn't seem to mind you taking a peek now and then--and more than a peek."

"That's different. She's a chick. All chicks are exhibitionists."

"Even sisters?"

"Of course. Hasn't Katie ever showed you her body?"

No, I thought, unfortunately she never had. I shook my head. "She hasn't." But I wished she had.

"She will," Chad predicted.

"Not Katie."

"Sure she will. She's a girl, isn't she?"

"She never has."

"All she needs is the opportunity; she already has the means and the motive."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

I thought of the key in my pocket--the key to the adjoining door between Katie's bedroom and my own. She could have the opportunity, I thought. The key seemed red hot, as if it might burn a hole in my pocket.

"Where you going?" Chad asked as I headed for his door. "I just got a new Playboy."

"I'll check it out next time," I answered. "I have to be getting home."

When I reached my house, I went straight upstairs to my room. As I'd hoped, the key was gone. Mom, having remembered or missed it, had retrieved it. The lock looked the same. To test it, I removed the key from my pocket, inserted it softly into the lock--it fit as well as a cock inside a virgin's cunt--and gently turned it to the left. The lock opened, and I could ease the door forward on its hinges. The rectangular panel of wood that had so long denied me access to my sister's bedroom swung open, and I saw Katie's inner sanctum--the full-length mirror on the inside of her bedroom door, the mirror over her dresser, the posters of teen heartthrobs on her walls, her desk and chair, her night table, and the dolls and teddy bears seated or lying on her bed. I thought of the many times she may have stood naked before one of those mirrors, admiring the soft slopes of her breasts, the swelling curves of her hips, and the round mounds of her silk-soft derriere. I thought of her trying on her bras and panties. Had she studied the budding of her breasts at puberty, wondering how her blossoming bosom stacked up against the other girls in school? Had she touched herself the way she'd imagined a favorite boy in school might touch her? Had Katie wanted to share the sights of her tits and ass and cunt with her sibling? Had she slipped her finger between her labia and fingered the slick clitoris within her tender, wet cunt, thinking, perhaps, of my hand in place of her own? Had she lain in bed, on her back, with her thighs spread wide, masturbating with a dildo and wishing that the artificial prick were, instead, her brother's warm, hard cock?

Probably not, I told myself, but I could wish, couldn't I?

I hesitated. I wanted to cross the threshold and enter the forbidden interior of my sister's private chamber, but to do so would be risky. What if Mom caught me trespassing on my sister's sanctuary? What if Dad saw me invading my sister's boudoir? If that happened, the least I'd have to worry about would be the loss of my key.

But I could be careful, couldn't I?

I would be careful.

Very careful.

And I wouldn't stay long.

Just long enough to touch the blanket and sheets upon which my sister lay--thinking, perhaps, of me. Just long enough to open her drawers and touch the silk and satin of her panties and the ribbons of her lacey bras.

My cock was hard, and my balls had risen inside my tightened scrotum.

I really shouldn't, I thought.

Maybe, for just a moment. . . .

I stepped over the threshold, into my sister's room--and it was wonderful, just to be here, in the same room where Katie had stood naked, where Katie had dressed and undressed, where Katie had, no doubt, masturbated, her mind awhirl with thoughts of sex.

I crossed the room, to Katie's dresser. I opened the top drawer. As I'd supposed, she used this drawer for her underwear. It was full of panties--a garden of panties, a rainbow of them. Red panties, pink pantries, white panties, black panties, blue panties, green panties, and more, in ten or more different hues and shades. Some were cotton; others were silk; still others were satin. A few pair were, like Laurie's, thongs. Like Chad's sister, my sister also wore thongs! The thought of my sister wearing thong panties was almost more than I could bear; I almost lost it then and there, spurting my seed over the top of my sister's dresser, into the mirror behind the chest of drawers, and onto the panties inside the opened drawer. 

Instead, I closed the drawer and strode to my sister's bed. I stood beside the frame, letting my fingertips trail lightly over the blanket and the rumpled sheets. I smiled. Katie was always so neat and clean. I'd never have thought that, like her brother, she didn't make her bed in the morning. Maybe Katie was more like me than I'd supposed, I thought. After all, we both had the same parents. Maybe she'd thought the same thoughts about me as I'd entertained about her. Maybe she'd imagined me naked, as I'd imagined her naked. Maybe she'd opened her legs to me, accepting the offer of my erection as I'd lain between her parted thighs and thrust my member into her moist, soft center. Maybe, I thought, but probably not.

I was pressing my luck, I told myself. I was being foolish.

I decided to return to my own room, close and lock the connecting door, and return the key to my pocket before Mom or Dad--or Katie herself--caught me snooping around in my sister's room.

Before I did, though, on an impulse, I entered my sister's walk-in closet. It was stuffed with clothes and shoes. There was something else in the closet, too, against the back wall, about three feet from the carpeted floor, above a small pillow that seemed to have been placed there on purpose, as a cushion upon which to kneel. An eyehole. Kneeling on the pillow--it had been the presence of the pillow, out of place as it was, that had alerted me to the presence of the hole in the wall above it--I placed my eye to the hole and was shocked to find myself gazing into my own room. I was looking directly into my own bed. Last night, I'd heard Katie shuffling around in her closet, but I'd thought nothing of it. Probably, I'd told myself, she was picking out the outfit that she'd wear to school or work the next day or she was trying to find the one pair of shoes among the fifty that she owned that would perfectly complement some skirt or pair of slacks. Now that I'd seen the peephole, however, another possibility--a much less innocent and far more exciting possibility--presented itself. Maybe my not-so-innocent sister had been spying on me!

I gulped, feeling the blood rise in my face as I blushed. If she had been spying on me, she'd have seen quite an eyeful, I thought, for, last night, as I'd lain in bed naked, thinking that my sister might be lying in bed naked in the adjoining room, I'd masturbated. Had she seen my cock standing upright, stiff and swollen, against my belly as, with my fist tightly closed around the thick shaft of my prick, I'd pumped the tight skin up and down, faster and harder, on the straining shaft until, at last, my semen had erupted, spewing all over my chest, belly, and pubes? As hard as it was for me to accept, this seemed a likely scenario. If Chad were right about girls (which was doubtful), they were all exhibitionists.

It seemed likely that Katie was also a voyeur.

I rose, exiting the closet, and returned to my room. I closed and locked the door, slipping the key into my pocket, and smiled.

If Katie liked to watch, I thought, I'd give her something she'd enjoy seeing.

I gathered a couple of textbooks, a notebook, and a pen, and went downstairs, pretending to study. Actually, I just wanted to be downstairs when Katie got home from her shift at Food Fest. I figured she'd want to go straight upstairs, take a hot shower, and recuperate from a long, hard day at work.




The Key



Preface:

I have mixed feelings about humiliation.

On the one hand, the absolute last thing I would want is to humiliate anyone, especially women; women suffer far to much humiliation in this world. My greatest hope and joy is the empowering of women, including my wife and daughters. A good look around shows us that when women have more power, violence and poverty are reduced. Men need good women to temper and augment their power. And women need good men, as accepting partners, as well.

On the other hand, I recognize that a great many women have what might be considered a strange reaction to humiliation; they are massively turned on by some forms of it. One has only to look at the number of lovelies who prance around after bad boys, players, and cads to see that sad truth. And in the Lifestyle, that is magnified. Many submissive women are more than willing to specify directly that they are looking to be "put in their place" and made to do things most would consider degrading.

On the gripping hand, every life may be improved by some level of humiliation, in the same way that what doesn't kill us can only make us stronger. My own life was probably saved by a very humiliating incident which allowed me to finally admit my place and give up the weight I was foolishly attempting to carry. We must all face humiliation, and lessons on how to do that well are therefore worthy.

This is a story about a love that starts with such a lesson. The story does not continue into the ongoing benefits of the lesson learned, but you may trust that the relationship which results is a positive one, for both of the participants, as may be expounded upon in upcoming missives from this author, depending on the strength of whatever reactions this story gleans.

Finally, I want to point out that although the story is written from the first person point of view, the man in this story bears no more resemblance to the author than is necessitated by the limits of my imagination. If the language of this introduction provides no clue, let me say this: Our subject is a bit stuck up, a proper man, although a quick learner and flexible. He is also an incurable romantic and completely obsessed with the books of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Jane Eyre and others of the romance era; so much so that his speech is, at times, archaic.

And I, embarrassingly, have gotten somewhat stuck in that wording as a result of trying to write from his point of view. Our subject is not a hater of women, although his past gives reason to distrust the fairer sex. He is a bit traditional in that he assumes that women are better suited for some roles and men for others. He admires strong women, and those in positions of leadership, but he feels they must be rare and must have overcome elements of their basic nature to have attained power. In short, he is somewhat sexist, but in a manner which is most subtle and difficult to discern. This lesson helps him to grow as well, for he sees the power of submission and the strength it requires.

I must credit Mrs. Ember (Jaily) Flameman and YummyBomb with their assistance in editing and writing this piece. It would have been laughably inaccurate as to the female perspective without their help, and rife with spelling, tense, punctuation and grammatical errors. Any errors that remain were introduced by my final tweaking.

I do hope you enjoy it. Writers are sustained by feedback.

THE KEY

I was leaving the office about 8pm, having worked late on a proposal to help the community, which was not coming together well. In these hard economic times, empty buildings and broken homes had resulted in an increase in vandalism and graffiti. Now, with the opening of a nightclub a block away, our area was becoming increasingly unsafe at night. I began to fear that aside from the cost of replacing windows and painting over the taggers handiwork our business might be robbed or some violence done to our happy little group.

As I turned and walked into the last light of the evening, a voice floated to my ears from the alley between mine and the next building.

"Excuse me... Sir?"

It was the voice of a women, not shrill or rough, but soft and with a hint of panic and despair. Not a hooker nor a sales pitch, which could leave only two possibilities -- a damsel in distress or bait to a trap.

I shaded my eyes from the street lamp and looking deep into the alley. There I saw a lovely woman. She was standing just in front of the retaining wall which runs about waist high at the end of the alley. Although her face and body were not really visible, her clothes and her stance left a distinct impression of class, delicacy, and attention to detail.

I cleared my throat and called out "yes, hello... how can I help you?" as I turned and walked into the alley toward her.

She leaned forward slightly, her arms behind her back, her chin raised and hesitatingly said, "I... seem to be in a bit of a... predicament... which will require the assistance of a trustworthy person to resolve."

I could see more of her now, a lovely face

She continued, "I called out to you because you look... honorable and trustworthy. I dearly hope that I am not mistaken."

"Uh oh", I thought. "This sounds like something just out of a fairy tail."

Long years of bitter experience have taught me to distrust this sort of thing, and this was really starting to sound like a scam. I stopped and glanced to the sides, looking for a man or men hiding, waiting to rob me. Looking back at her, I could see a look of fear and almost panic pass over her striking face.

She pleaded, "Please don't stop, Oh God, don't leave. I really do need YOUR help, Sir."

Tilting my head to the side, I replied, "Yes, well... this requires a certain amount of trust on my part as well, doesn't it?"

She blanched and then, looking down, whispered "Ah... I hadn't thought of that... how embarrassing" then nodding her head she continued, "but I suppose you could see this as an attempt to maneuver you into a compromising position"

Suddenly she laughed; it had a bitter, almost gasping and ironic nervousness to it. She looked directly at me and said, "But our positions are a bit different, in that you can always walk away, whereas I..."

At that point she moved slightly to the side allowing me to see that her hands were handcuffed to the wrought iron railing just beyond the top of the retaining wall. My eyes widened in amazement, and I exclaimed, "Well! I see what you mean about finding yourself in a predicament. How on earth did you end up handcuffed? Are you in trouble with the police?"

She laughed bitterly "No, not the police... my ex husband. The courts just awarded me the house and a portion of his business in our divorce. It was unexpected and he didn't... take it well"

"Ahhh... he is the vindictive sort?" I said, looking around and behind me again.

She bit her lower lip and replied, "Apparently... Although he really has no cause to be, considering that he cheated on me, repeatedly. He even made a pass at my sister. You have nothing to worry about" She said, noticing my concerned glances "as he will be well occupied for the night with the tramp who accompanied him when he locked me up here."

I nodded, then said, "I will call for a locksmith and get you released quickly."

A look of panic passed over her face. "Please Sir! Thank you, but the idea of anyone other than a gentleman of your stature seeing me like this... I would be so afraid that it might be reported to the press."

"The press?" I asked, obviously confused.

"Oh..." she smiled with a little pout, "you don't recognize me..."

"No, I am afraid I do not..." I replied, trying to place her face against the media images that I desperately try to ignore.

She smiled softly, "I am your city council women, a respected member of the community and the mother of 3 fine young men."

Recognition dawned.... and along with it, an understanding of the delicacy of the situation. No matter how little she had done to deserve this treatment, the fact that it had happened at all, and her ex husband's apparent motivation... It would be a major blow to her standing.

If it became public.

"Now you see why I must hope that you are an honorable and trustworthy person" she said, as she looked up at me sadly. Her face softened and her chin dropped a bit as she ended her sentence with the whispered word... "Sir."

"Very well then, no one else shall know. I have a hacksaw at home, a few blocks away..." I had started to suggest, only to be interrupted.

"Oh, please, no! Please, Sir, do not think again of leaving me here alone?" she begged and then, flushed and with a quivering voice she admitted, "I have the key..."

"Ahhh! Excellent!" I said "Of course! I'll just unlock them then, where is the key?"

A strange, bitter and twisted smile passed her flushed cheeks. "Well Sir, that is the tricky part... the key is... " she was breathing rapidly, and I am sorry to say that I was momentarily distracted by the sight of her chest rising and falling.

Then she blurted out, "the key is... inside me."

My eyes snapped back up to hers, and I stared for several seconds before what she had said could sink in. "um... Inside you?" I dumbly repeated.

"yes Sir" she shook, completely crestfallen and appeared to be on the edge of tears. "My ex is a respected gynecologist, and had been my OB/GYN for many, many years. Even after our marriage failed, and I filed for divorce, we maintained a professional relationship as patient and doctor. I trusted no one else with myself. He had been the only man..."

She cried, quietly and with a dignity not often seen. As tears flowed from her bright eyes and down her lovely cheeks, the thought passed the back of my mind -- even if this was a trap -- I was lost. Nothing destroys a man like the site of a spirited, lovely woman -- sobbing. I was so moved but could do little other than first offer her a handkerchief... then, realizing she could not take it, I hesitated, and finally dabbed her cheek, saying "there there" in the most ineffective manner imaginable.

She recovered, smiled a rueful little smile and continued "Thank you. I went to his office today for a regular appointment. Things have been strained since the divorce, but I thought he was dealing with it. He started the exam, removed my diaphragm, which he had recommended after our separation, and then later he put the diaphragm back. I had no idea, at that time, that he had placed the key on top of it. Afterwards he offered me a drink and said he wanted to talk about the settlement. I accepted, trying to be polite. Apparently the court papers had been delivered to his office earlier."

I listened quietly as she continued her account.

"My lawyer had advised that I try for everything I could possibly be awarded, but said it was unlikely that the judge would award me very much considering that my salary is actually more than my ex's. Apparently the judge didn't see it that way. I was awarded the house, the boat, the children, and both child and spousal support. The pictures I had of him cheating on me combined with the testimony of my family and his ex-lovers may have influenced her."

She laughed a bitter, heartfelt laugh at that point which ended in a gasping sob as she continued, "He was enraged. I've never seen him like that. The things he said about female judges are not repeatable. He forced me out the back door of his office and into his car."

The memory of her fear was clearly etched over her lovely features.

"I was stunned!" She continued, "I've NEVER seen him like that. He's never been violent or angry in the slightest, as long as I've known him. He always said he is a lover not a fighter." she grinned sardonically.

"I just went along with him, expecting that he would calm down in time. He drove us here, into the inner city, then pushed me down this ally and before I knew it, handcuffed me to this railing. His little trollop showed up then and laughed at me, while she kissed him and groped him... and he was, of course, all over her. He said she was my 'replacement' and went on about how much better she was in bed." A bitter, sad look passed her face as she looked away to the side.

After a moment, she looked back up at me and continued, haltingly, "And then he explained that the key... He had placed the key on top of my diaphragm... I could actually... feel it... scraping. At first, anyway..." Her head fell down as she blushed deeply. "So that key will have to be... retrieved... by someone whose hands are free to do so... " She said with a nervous laugh

She looked at me, searching my face, and said, "He said something about depending on the kindness of someone from the city other than a... women judge... and now I am... I need you to... put your fingers... " Her voice trailed off.

I nodded, "I wish I could see another way of doing this, but... I'm willing to help... Um... I guess we will need some sort of lubrication... do you have a moisturizer or lotion in your purse?"

As I said this, another look of panic and terror passed over her features and she started shaking again, but then firmed up and looked directly at me. "Well, you will know soon enough. All this time that I've been here, waiting for someone suitable to come... I've known what was going to happen... what would need to be done to free me... And the most horrible thing about it is..." She shuddered and turned beet red. She gasped for air and continued, "The truth is... well..." A crooked little smile teased at the corner of her face, "Let's just say lubrication isn't going to be a problem."

It took a moment for that to sink in. When it did, I smiled, or almost smirked, despite myself. "oh... I see"

The shame now evident on her face was... well... the best word I can find is powerful. I felt sorry for her, I wanted to ease her pain, but I was also... more than a little intrigued. Here was a powerful woman. A leader. Lovely, but strong. And she was being humbled in a way few of us ever experience, but along with the anger and bitterness that one would expect She was also turned on. Wet. Horny. And without knowing why, I felt a rush of power and desire unlike anything I had previously experienced.

Looking back on the event, I recognize that I would never have felt that power or desire had she been simply a helpless victim. Without her deep if unexpected and somewhat unwilling enjoyment of the situation, I could not have reacted as I did.

As it was, my life, from that day forward, would never be the same.

I moved almost without direction. My hand came up to cup her chin and raise her face to me. As she looked into my eyes, with fear, shame, and... passion reflected in her eyes, I simply nodded and then reached down to pull up the hem of her dress. I stood close to her, and she leaned into me, turning her head to rest on my chest and shoulder while she lifted one leg, spreading herself, and giving me access to her most private depth.

I felt her rapid breathing, as her breasts pressed into my chest, then her gasping as my hand made contact with her thigh, then panties. Her panties were soaked clear through. She wasn't kidding... She couldn't have gotten this wet in the short time we had been talking. I realized that she had been horny from the moment she understood what she was going to have to do, what would be done to her. She must have known she was going to have to ask a random stranger to basically finger fuck her, and the thought had turned her on.

I pulled the material to the side, and felt along her lips. She was fully engorged; her pussy lips open and proud. How singular a reaction, I thought... She must have been terribly excited from the very point of realizing what was going to happen. Just thinking about what must have gone through her mind, the struggle she must have experienced between her own passions, made my head spin. And to have had the strength to resolve to do as she had done truly amazed me.

"Ready?" I asked. She nodded quickly, then held her breath. I gently pushed my finger inside her, easily penetrating her. She suddenly pressed her head down harder against my chest, prompting me to stop and ask "Are you ok?" Her answer started as a whimper which she quickly turned into a "yes, just do it! Please!... Sir, please...." I nodded and pushed deeper, wiggling my finger to try to feel for anything other than the warm, soft wet inside of a woman. She whimpered without finding a way to cover it up. "I'm not finding anything..." I said. She gasped out that I would need to go farther, but at that point, my palm was pressing almost against her outer lips. I tried, but when I pushed up against her, I could feel no farther, and her whimper sounded a bit like a moan. "I'm going to have to use my other fingers to get in farther" I said. "Oh my good freaking god!" she mewled with a breathless air "please, Sir, please, I'm not sure I can... please hurry, my good Sir" A little smile played over my face as I considered her dilemma, and suddenly I had a thought. This situation could end with her free, humiliated, and very sexually frustrated... or...

I pulled my finger out, purposely pressing it against the inside of her, running it down the very sensitive area behind the clit. Her squeal was delicious, and she did not otherwise object. I formed my fingers together into the smallest possible space and started up into her again, but before I entered, I found her opening by starting from the top and going down, flicking over her clit in the process. she jumped, shuddered, and moaned deeply but said nothing. As my fingers penetrated her again, spreading her more widely this time, I spoke softly into her hair. "It has come to me... that this can end one of two ways... I may find and retrieve this key, release you, and you will go your way. Free, humiliated, and very... ah... bothered, shall we say? Or, if you wish, I could spend a bit more time... searching, still finding the key, eventually, and you will go your way, free, humiliated, but rather more... satisfied." A moan of despair with a massive undercurrent of need was my only answer.

I wasn't going to allow it to be that easy. I brushed my lips against her ear, "No, this is your choice. I'll not force myself on you. Unless you specifically ask for... release..." "YES!" she almost shouted. "Yes, please, Sir.. oh god, how could I be such a slut... Yes, make me cum, I beg you, Sir" I smiled widely, pleased that I had guessed correctly. Holding her gently, I said "Now, there, 'slut' is just a mean word for a wonderful and responsive women, try to let go and enjoy yourself. On my word, I will never tell another living soul what happens here."

I thrust my hand up into her -- in and out, deeper and deeper. moving my thumb to brush against her clit. I had never before heard such a lovely series of moans, mewels, whimpers and panting curses. She had quite a vocabulary, it turned out, with all the naughty words that ladies just don't say, and she was spilling them all out. I grasped her leg with my free arm and laid it up along the top of the retaining wall, then held her close as I started to ram my fingers into her, harder and harder. I could feel her stiff nipples rubbing against my chest through both my shirt and her thin sweater top. Her increasing arousal gave me permission to do whatever I wanted to his lovely creature. I pushed her back against the wall and pinched her right and then her left nipple; harder and harder until she cried out.

Her face was a picture; a masterpiece. I touched her cheek then pulled her back to me. While her form bounced lightly up and down over my fingers her nipples became harder and her cries into my chest became sharper.

Suddenly, she stiffened, then a strangled cry escaped her mouth as her head snapped up and she froze, vibrating in place. I could feel her clamping down on my fingers, and I pressed in, holding her clit between my thumb on the outside and my fingers inside. Long seconds passed without any change... no breathing... no motion other than that rythmic clamping and her entire body vibrating. I suddenly realized that I was feeling wetness over my lower arm and down on my waist.




The Key



For an instant, I thought she had lost all control and was peeing on me, but then I thought of stories I had heard of women who gush vaginal lubrication when they cum. I laughed with joy at the pure novelty of the situation. I had never experienced such an erotic encounter, not to mention with a woman I had never even been formally introduced to. The feeling of her body rigid, but soft, living, but comatose, racked with orgasmic pleasure was heaven to me. Just as I was starting to become a bit worried about her lack of breathing, she gasped, loudly and drawing in a great rush of air, shuddered and collapsed against me.

I held her tenderly, as best I could. After a while, I started to think that her leg must be in an uncomfortable position so I started to withdraw my hand from inside her, but she stiffened and whispered "No please, Sir... don't leave me... Yet" Her voice was soft and sweet, tender and delightful to me. More so than any long term love I had ever cultivated. At last she shuddered, took a deep breath and pulled back a little, lowering her leg as I pulled my fingers out of her. "I am ruined Sir... " she said in that same soft voice, with a slight hint of irony. "You may free me from this fence, but I will never be sane again." She looked up at me; bright eyes and a quirky smile. "I fear I will spend my life seeking that feeling again and again until I wither and die from a lack of interest in food or drink"

Was I sad? Did I share her concern? I admit, I was not, I did not. The rush of power was... wholly corrupting. I knew that I owned this woman. This lovely lady would come to me again. And she would cum for me again. and again. Who else would she have for this? Who could she tell? She was already in trust to me, and could only hope I would not betray it. I had been of service and done my duty... in time, and soon, I knew she would service me.

And were I true to myself, I must needs admit: I was lost as well. Once having experienced her submission, I could never appreciate another. And far from thinking her less of a person, I found myself with deep respect for the strength it had taken her to face this experience and embrace it as she had.

I smiled down at her, and said "I'm going to kiss you" which I did, and she kissed me back.

*

Postface:

If you enjoyed this, you might also enjoy a story I wrote a while back called "18th Century Master Maid A Pain Slut" which is based in the "romance" era, where consent was often not considered, and Steam-punk like machines were the high tech of the day

I'm currently working on the next chapter in "The Key" story. So far: It's filled with both pain and pleasure of the emotional as well as the physical variety. It involves both female and male bisexuality, so if a man sucking his buddies cock bothers you, move on. It is a comedy of errors and heartbreak based on what I have seen go bad in the lifestyle. 

Oh... and it also involves a washing machine, a candle, and a marmoset. 

LOL.



The Key



I get more married pussy than anyone else I know and that includes several husbands. My secret? I don't make passes at them! Yeah, you heard me right, I don't make passes at them and I don't even let them know I'm interested in them. What I do is become their friend, their buddy, and their big brother whose shoulder they can cry on. It is surprising how many husbands are complete assholes where their wives are concerned and those wives are always looking for someone they can talk to, someone who will say "There, there, don't cry, it can't be that bad." The wives confide in you, tell you their inner most secrets and all you have to do is listen closely and pick up on the 'key'. And there is always a 'key' and once you have it you can begin to move things in the direction you want. 

Take Maddie for instance. Her husband would stop after work for drinks with his buddies and not get home until late and when he did get home there would be a faint whisper of perfume that was not Maddie's and maybe a lipstick smudge somewhere. Maddie was sure that her husband was fucking around on her. Was he? I have no idea, but the important thing was that Maddie thought he was. One day Maddie was telling me about how her husband had come home late with a phone number in his pocket in what Maddie was sure was a women's handwriting. She said to me, "I wonder how that bastard would like it if I screwed around on him?" and I had my 'key'. From then on every time Maddie would cry on my shoulder I would make sure that the conversation would be steered to the subject of her getting even.

"You can't do something like that Maddie. In this day and age you have to be careful of Aids and shit like that. If you want revenge you better make damn sure that you find someone you can trust completely." 

The more the subject of getting even came up, the more the idea appealed to her and eventually she decided to do it and guess who she decided she could trust. Her seduction of me took all of two days and now she gets even with her hubby at my place - two or three times a week. Hey! What can I say, I'm just helping the poor lady out.

+++++++++++++++++

Helping ladies get even isn't the only way to get them into bed. There are a lot of ladies who get mad at hubby over something he won't do. Sarah was a case like that. One day we were eating lunch together when Sarah asked me if she could ask me something personal and when I said sure, go ahead, she asked, "What is your opinion of oral sex?" 

My ears perked up and I could sense a 'key' coming. 

"I love both," I said. 

She looked at me curiously and said, "Both?" 

"Sure" I replied, "Giving and getting." 

She looked at me and said, "I thought most men hated to give a woman oral sex." 

Oh ho, I thought, she wants her pussy licked and her hubby won't do it. I had the 'key' to Sarah and from then on the subject of oral sex always seemed to come up whenever Sarah and I were together. It took a month, but one day Sarah asked, "Can I ask you for a big favor?" 

"I guess so" I replied. 

Sarah hemmed and hawed, blushed deep red and finally said, "Will you let me suck your cock?" 

"Whatever for?" I asked. 

It seems that all of her girl friends raved about the effect that sucking their man's cock had on the man and it was usually enough to get the man to go down on them. Sarah's old man wouldn't let her suck his dick; "It's dirty. Only whores do things like that!" 

I gave her a serious look and said, "I don't know Sarah. That's asking an awful lot of me and not only that, but its pretty lopsided. You would get me all charged up and then I would want to eat your pussy and before it was over I'd would want to fuck you and you are a married woman." 

Care to guess how that one turned out?

++++++++++++++++++

And then there was Monique. The very first time I laid eyes on her I knew that I was going to move heaven and hell if that is what it took to find her key. I never found it; I didn't have to. It did not take long for us to become buddies and about a month after we met she said to me, "Do you think I'm attractive?" 

"Absolutely!" I replied. 

"Sexy even?" she asked. 

"What's going on here?" I asked, "No woman who looks like you has to ask these questions. You know what you've got." 

She smiled and said, "It's just small talk leading up to my asking you if you would like to fuck me." 

For a change I was speechless. It had never been hard to get the married ladies, but this was almost too easy. Monique laughed at the expression on my face, "Don't look so stunned. You are already fucking half the women who work here, what's one more?" 

It turned out that Monique's husband was getting it on with his secretary and then coming home and getting it on with Monique. It never occurred to the idiot that Monique might notice that his cock tasted different on the nights he came home late and that she would figure out that he had been dipping his wick in another woman. What she wanted now was a cunt full of cream to take home to the asshole to see if he could figure it out. It will come as no great surprise that I helped the lady out or that I have continued to help her for the last six months. The funny thing is that Monique is almost certain that he knows, but he hasn't said anything. In fact, the only change in him that she has noticed is that he is more eager to eat her pussy than he ever was before. All I can say is that if he isn't going to complain, neither am I

+++++++++++++++

Ruby was the most difficult to land. Becoming friends was fairly easy and becoming her confidant not much harder, but she didn't seem to have any problems with her husband. It was almost six months before I saw a glimmer of hope. She came to work one day in a clearly pissed off mood, but whatever it was that had upset her she did not want to talk about. It was another two days before I was able to pry it out of her. Her hubby had gone to a bachelor party for a friend and had not come home until three in the morning. He was smelling of beer, whiskey and, she was almost sure, a faint trace of perfume. Bingo - I had my key, and I slowly began to turn it to unlock Ruby's treasures.

"So what's the problem?" I asked. "Almost all bachelor parties have a stripper or two come in for entertainment. It's no big thing." 

Sounds like I'm telling her that hubby hasn't given her anything to worry about, right? I went on, "Usually the talent only screws the bridegroom, and sometimes the best man (Ruby had already told me that the party was for her hubby's best friend - I gambled that the groom's best friend would be best man - bingo again). Ruby burst into tears and I tried to soothe her, "There, there honey, no need to be upset. You know, in less than half of the parties I've been to did the stripper take on everybody there." 

Ruby looked at me with tear filled eyes, "You mean she did everybody?" 

Inside I smiled as I said, "Don't worry about it. Your hubby doesn't sound like the kind of guy who would go along with something like that" but the tone of my voice said "Of course he fucked the bitch and if she was halfway decent looking, he nailed her at least twice."

For the next couple of days every time we would sit down together the subject would come up and I would 'pooh pooh her fears, but in a tone of voice that plainly said, "You're old man got himself some strange that night." By the following week Ruby was one hundred percent certain that hubby had done her wrong and, by God, she was going to get even. 

"Whoa! Hold on!" I said. "You can't just run out and take on the first good looking guy you see, these days you have to consider things like disease, and nuts who like to beat up on women, or even sexual serial killers. If you are going to do it you have to find someone who will keep his mouth shut. You want your hubby to know, but not everyone else. The last thing you want is for the word to get around that you are an easy piece." 

Ruby thought long and hard about it and then she asked me, as her friend, to help her get even with her old man. What could I say? She was my friend - I was honor bound to help out. We had one fantastic night together and then she hurried home to tell her husband the good news.

++++++++++++++++++++

The most memorable was Nancy, another one that I didn't need a key for. Nancy was a raven-haired beauty that I lusted for, but who had apparently had some sixth sense that told her what I was about. She never allowed me to get close to her and so I put her on my list of unattainables and concentrated my efforts in other areas. Nancy was cordial, but cool towards me, until the day she had to leave work early for a doctor's appointment. Her house was on the way to the doctor's office and she had forgotten her checkbook that morning so she stopped at the house to get it. She found her husband fucking the next door neighbor and after watching for a few moment she had backed silently away - they never even knew that she had been there. The next day she showed up at my cubicle and asked me to have lunch with her. We met at a small café close to work and after satisfying herself that there was no one close enough to hear our conversation she cut right to the chase. 

"Normally, you are not the kind of person that I would have much to do with. You are a predator and you prey on women when they are in an emotionally unstable state, but you have two qualities that keep you from being a total lowlife - you are discrete, and you don't go around blabbing about your conquests. In fact, the only reason that most of us know about what it is that you do is that your victims talk. I find it amazing that none of them have anything bad to say about you. The bottom line here is that at this moment in time I need someone like you to help me get some revenge." 

I had been sitting there totally silent while she made her little speech, but I wasn't in the least upset because, after all, she had it totally right, but now it was time for me to speak. 

"Why, given your opinion of me, would I even want to consider helping you?" 

She smiled at me and said, "Because you want me. I can see it in your eyes every time you look at me and if I get your help, you get me!" 

Talk about the offer you can't refuse! It took me all of two nano-seconds to say, "What do you want me to do?" 

Nancy told me and two days later I was sitting naked on the side of her bed watching her set up a video camera on a tripod. But I wasn't watching her fiddle with the camera; I was taking in the breathless sight of her flawless naked body. High breasted, narrow waisted, and with legs that seemed to go on forever. Raven black hair falling on creamy white shoulders and her green eyes flashing satisfaction over what she was about to do. For an added bit of eroticism she had on nylons with a garter belt and was wearing a pair of black patent leather "come fuck me" high heels. When she was satisfied with the camera she turned it on and then walked seductively toward me. 

It was the most strenuous afternoon of my life. She sucked my cock and then we fucked. She sucked me back to life and then we fucked again. Nancy's mouth and fingers got me up more times than I thought possible and every time she got me up we fucked. I would love to be able to sit here and write that I was "Superman" that day and that my cock stayed hard and I fucked Nancy until she pleaded with me to stop. But that wouldn't be true (and I'm sure that you all know that anyway) and in fact it was just the opposite, I had to beg Nancy to leave me alone. 

Nancy popped out the videocassette and place it in the middle of the unkempt bed, right next to a large puddle of cum, with a note taped to it that said, "Something for you and Clarissa to watch the next time you both climb in this bed." 

We dressed and went out for a steak dinner and as we finished off the bottle of wine I asked, "What now?" 

Nancy gave me a contemplative look and then said, "Your place." 

We spent the next three days never leaving my apartment. We both called in sick to work and all of our meals were delivered. We tore at each other until my dick was so sore that I had to fight Nancy off. On the fourth day Nancy went home.

++++++++++++++++++

My life changed drastically after our three day sex-a-thon. Nancy and her husband separated and she moved in with me. I'm not allowed to prey on married women anymore (unless you count Nancy, who technically is still married). I guess that it would be true to say that I'm not preying, I'm being preyed upon. The woman is insatiable and is doing her absolute best to fuck me to death. I'd protest - if I could find the strength.