K's Keys

"K," was his answer, "You are very beautiful. Wish I could draw you like this, or paint you, or make a sculpture. Or all three, one after the other. If I had the talent to do that stuff good. If you'd allow me."

Now K didn't react to this flattery as good as she might have. She had trouble taking compliments-always had. They put her too much on the spot. Always assumed she was being patronized, or made fun of. Set up for a scam. In her opinon, she wasn't so great looking. Nice legs, her best feature, but otherwise she was much too scrawny and bony. Her face had a witchy structure. Long and narrow, her chin and cheekbones jutted too much, and her nose was too big and slightly hooked. She had big, bright, fierce eyes, only they always had dark circles around them. Thought they made her look freaky. Lots of guys go for that starved-and-feverish waif look, that can't be denied. It either brings out their protective side, or more often than not, their dark and abusive side ... She knew she turned guys on. No argument there. Problem was she didn't like the way she did. Wished she was attractive in a different and healthier way.

So she deflected his admiration. Went on the defensive. Couldn't help it. She smirked. "That all you want to do, huh? Make a picture or a statue out of me? Put me in a gallery?"

"Not all, my dear. Just for starters. One thing, or three related things, out of many."

She couldn't come up with a followup to that. Nothing that sounded any good in her head. In the end what she went with was: "Do I get to have my keys back now?"

Immediately regretted the way that came out.

He tossed them over to her. She caught them.

"What now?" she asked, fiddling with them, "Do I get to go home?"

"If that's what you want," he answered, "Found out I have to be up pretty ridiculously early tomorrow. My other job offered me an extra shift at freaking five. Gonna regret not going to sleep a couple hours ago. Too late now. Damage is done. Tomorrow's a zombie day."

"When they call you?"

"This afternoon."

"Why'd you go to that movie then?"

"To be with you. Duh."

"I'm not apologizing again for that."

"Wasn't asking you to. I got to see you tonight in the end. That's all that matters. A few minutes is better than no minutes. I'm satisfied."

"Are you? I'm glad to hear it. Shall I just put my clothes back on then? Now you've seen me."

He gave her a funny look. "You think I'm gonna give them back?"

Okay, that threw her off. WTF. She just looked at him with her eyebrows up.

"What?" he said, "Why are you surprised? The deal was the keys for the clothes. Even steven. You got your keys back—you can go home whenever you want. Done dealio."

"Without my clothes? How is that supposed to work?"

"That's for you to figure out. You wanted your keys, you got your keys. Now I'm supposed to give you your things back? But you gave them to me for the keys. You want the clothes back, then give back the keys. Fair's fair. Or else we'll have to make another arrangement. A whole new different deal."

"A whole new different deal," she echoed.

"Yeah."

"Jesus Christ."

"What do you think, K? What do you wanna do? You want your clothes—make me an offer."

"What kind of fucking offer?"

"I'm leaving it all up to you. This time you think of something. It's your turn."

"Or, you know, maybe I could just say 'fuck you' and walk out the door. Won't take me more than a minute to get to my car. It's late enough I can drive home like this without much risk of anybody seeing me. Hell, if I wanted, I could probably jog home, and get there just fine. How you like that idea, huh?"

He shrugged. "If that's what you want—if that's what you prefer. The notion does have definite appeal. I'd be sorry to see you leave. But it tickles me, imagining your trip home like that."

"Only take me ten or fifteen minutes to get home safe, tops."

"Jogging?"

"No, I meant in my car. I wouldn't jog it—no reason to. I only said I could manage it without getting caught and humiliated if I had to or I wanted to. But why would I?"

"The sheer kinky thrill of the thing, my dear."

"Ha. Not my thing, sorry. I'm not one of those crazy exhibitionist girls or a risk junkie. Nothing to prove."

"Too bad."

"Even if I was, I wouldn't just abandon my car."

"It would be fine if you left it there one night."

"You expect me to leave it parked here in front of your building? That's idiotic. I'd have to run all the way back here tomorrow morning first thing before work—or I couldn't even get to work. Work's way too far away."

"Not really, I do all right without a vehicle. Your place isn't that much farther away from there than this place is. You could just walk straight there; you wouldn't have to get up very much earlier than normal. Not like I'm gonna be doing for my other stupid job. Then you can come back here after your shift at four or five or whatever and get your car back then. I'm just saying it's doable."

"Well, I don't care! Plus there's all this nonsense I just went through getting my car keys back from you. Dumb as shit not to use them after that."

"Fair enough, you got me. Use them, if you want. A nearly naked nighttime drive won't be as wild for you as a nearly naked nighttime jog would be—but I think you'll still find it a pretty memorable experience. The images I'm conjuring in my head are still nicely stimulating."

"Pretty mental pictures to beat yourself off to, you mean, after I'm gone."

"Well, yes. I suppose that's exactly what will have to happen. You can picture that in your head, if you like, while you're driving along. I'll be picturing what you're doing and you'll be picturing me. We'll be having a sort of telepathic sex, if you want to think of it that way. Kind of a hot idea, don't you think?"

"No. It's just gross and weird and also damn silly."

He didn't argue with her. Just shrugged and looked a little sad.

She hadn't really meant to be as harsh as she just was. Hell.

"Anyway," she went on, "I didn't say for sure I wanted to leave. Just that I could, if I chose to. You don't have me trapped helpless over a barrel or anything, just because I'm down to my panties and my socks. I can handle this. That was the point I was making."

"Understood."

"I'm just saying, you're not as clever and crafty and devious as you think you are, buster. You might think you've got control of this situation, but you don't. Only exactly as much or as little as I decide to allow you. Or not. That clear?"

"Crystal."

6.

"So what is it you want from me?" she asked, "What do you expect me to do?"

He shook his head. "Told you. You have to suggest something. Entice me. Or not, if you don't want to. Go if you wanna go. But if you don't wanna go, if you wanna stay ... then play."

"I'm—I don't know. I'm not sure. I'm just—I don't know."

"Maybe you do, though. I think maybe you've already thought of something. You're just too chicken to throw it out at me. Go on. Don't hold back. Don't be chicken."

"Don't call me chicken."

"Buck-buck-buck." He made little wings with his elbows and flapped them.

"Jesus. I'm standing in front of you with my tits out, aren't I?"

"That's true. If you could do that, why can't you do this? Just tell me what you thought of."

"It's—it's kind of too obvious, though. It's not an original or inspired idea."

"What is it? I promise not to laugh."

"You won't. You'll ... I'm scared you'll think less of me."

"How do you know?"

"Because you will."

"I doubt it. Try me. Just fucking spit it out, K. If it's no good, it's all right, you'll think of something else. I have faith in you."

"You'll still think less of me, 'cause of this being my first idea."

"Tell me. Please quit torturing me, my dear. And while you're at it, try to quit torturing yourself. It's just you and me here. It's all cool. You're safe. I promise."

"Fine. Fine. All right. God. Fine." It still took her another full minute or so to get her shit together before she could go on. Couldn't breathe properly. Felt like she needed to sneeze but couldn't, like it was stuck. She kept sniffing and snuffling and swallowing, over and over. The sticky bubbling itch inside her nose and the back of her throat wouldn't ease off or clear away. God, she was acting so annoying now, all the sudden. So annoying that she was annoying herself!

"Well? Come on!"

"I was just ... just gonna offer you a handjob. That was all I could think of, pretty much."

He kept his word and didn't laugh at her, but she could still that was only 'cause he didn't let himself, and she could also tell it was tough for him to hold it in. Had to put a hand over his mouth and stomp his feet. "Gosh," he said, at last, "Wow. I mean, whoa. You just plunge right to the nitty-gritty. No messing around. Bam! That's cool, though."

"Told you it wasn't anything creative. You wanted something weirder, didn't you? Now you think less of me. I was right. I can tell from your face."

"What do you mean? Why would I think less of you?"

"'Cause I'm not very imaginative with this kind of stuff. You probably think I'm trashy, too. Since that was the first thing my brain popped up. You think I'm the kind of trashy dumb girl that gives handjobs all the time and doesn't give a shit about it or pretends she doesn't. Like it's no big deal 'cause she does it so much."

"Um ... That's a bit of a leap, K."

"I'm not like that. I know some stupid girls like that but I'm not one of them."

"I know. Hey. Your ... idea ... It wasn't what I was expecting. Still-"

"What were you expecting?"

"Oh heck, I figured you'd just offer to take off the rest of your things. Let me see the last special bits you're still keeping shielded."

"Just that? Would that have worked?"

"Oh yeah. I mean, I wouldn't have let you have the rest of your stuff right away. You'd have to twirl around for me and stuff for a minute or two, to let me savor the full view. Maybe dance a little bit, or just run through some sexy yoga stretches, if you know any sexy yoga."

"I don't. I don't dance, either. Not like that."

He shrugged. "Wouldn't have to get fancy about it. Hell, I'd be happy watching you do some toe-touches and jumping-jacks."

"Then you'd give me my things back?"

"Well, I would've. Not your panties or your socks, but you'd have bought back everything else with them. You'd be able to get decent again."

"Groovy." She bent over to start tugging off one of her socks ...

He stopped her. "Wait! Hold on! That's not how we're gonna do it. That wasn't the offer you made."

"Shit," she said.

He unzipped his jeans and popped his cock out at her. "You can still take your things off if you feel like it. I don't mind. But that's not gonna buy you anything. That's not the new deal."

"Shit," she said again. She stared at his cock and his cock stared at her. At least it was a decent looking cock, as cocks go. And a decent size, neither too big nor too dinky. Her kind-of-but-not-really boyfriend's was a little tiny bit thicker around but also stubbier. She was pretty fed up with that one, ready for something new. There had been times she had really hated the feel of that thing inside her. It didn't seem to fit into her right. Stretched her opening too wide and didn't reach in deep enough or upward enough to hit her best-feeling spots. That wasn't always the case, to be fair. There had been times it did really well. Probably over all she'd got just as much good sex from that guy and his stubby fatty as disappointing and frustrating sex. And that was how it usually tended to go, whenever she was having sex as a regular thing with a guy. Half good and half not, until the relationship died. Never could figure out what made the difference. The position was the obvious candidate—but that didn't seem to be the real issue. She'd never settled her routine on a favorite or reliable one. Never been able to. Every position she did it in—sometimes it worked good, sometimes it wouldn't, all across the board. Had to be some other factor.

Having let herself sink into this brief reverie, he misinterpreted the spaced-out expression that must have settled on her face.

"Hey now, don't look at me like that. This was your idea! Way better than mine was."

"Better for you," she said, "Shit. I can't believe this. Can't I just do the other thing?"

"Nope, not anymore. That wasn't the offer you made. Missed your chance, babe."

She pouted. "You're really gonna make me go this far? You're gonna make me kneel down and beat you off?"

He wavered. Nearly gave in. She would have been pissed if he had. Well, not pissed. But that would have taken a lot of the zing out of the air. And she would have lost some respect for him. No, respect wasn't quite the right word ...

It would have recategorized him, in her mind. It would have proved he was pretty much a total pushover, at least as far as she was concerned. Most guys were, in her experience, if they fell for you ... He would always do whatever she told him, and he would let her get away with anything. She would make or break all the rules. She'd be the official pants-wearer, in their relationship ... if their relationship continued further. Not to say that would necessarily be a bad thing. She didn't mind that role. Most of her relationships had been like that, most of the time. She would call all the shots. Usually she quite liked calling all the shots.

It did get tiresome, though, now and again. Sometimes you wanted a change. A different dynamic. Not that she wanted or needed to be bossed around. It just gave a little extra rush to the relationship-or it seemed like it might—if she wasn't essentially holding a leash, absolutely in control, all the damn time. And the guy wasn't completely one hundred percent predictable.

"Don't wuss out," Graham said, and waggled his cock at her, "Look how big and hard I am, because of you. Look how big and hard you make me."

"I noticed," she said. Then she sighed, sniffled again and swallowed again, still feeling like she was about to sneeze, her eyes watering a little too, and then knelt down.

"You can't reach me from all the way over there, babe."

She nodded and scooched closer. Right up against his legs. Sitting back on her heels, she took hold of him in her hand and squeezed him. Funny how basically easy it was to do, when she got down to business. Just reaching right over and grabbing the silly thing and tugging on it. Yet so scary and dangerous, at the same time. Like fiddling with a bomb. Seriously.

"Oh God," he said, "Oh yes."

She started jerking it. She didn't start slow. Figured it would be more fun to surprise him with a bold and aggressive pace.

"K! K! K!"

7.

Ten minutes later ...

Well, all right. It probably wasn't as long as that. Probably only more like five. Just felt a lot longer.

"Sheesh," she said, blowing some of her sweat-soaked bangs out of her eyes, "You getting close yet?"

"Hahh. Hehh. Huhh. Don't rush me, babe. Don't rush me. Let me enjoy this. This is ... ohhhohh ... pretty freaking wonderful. Yes this is. Hoohh! Hmmm. Haahhuuhh."

"You're taking forever. I never had a guy take this long before. You're really making me work for this, aren't you? I'm actually sweating now! Just fucking come!"

She couldn't crank him any harder than she already was. She would if she could, but she was already at the limit. It was making her furious. Hadn't expected it to take this much strain.

"I'm gonna be a while yet, honey. A good long while. Sorry. Sorry. No I'm not. I'm sorry I'm not sorry but I'm not sorry. Uhhhoooohhuuhh. This feels too wonderful. Hooh wow! Haahh! Why would I want this to end? Never! You can just keep cranking it for me all night long. Oh yeah. Oh yeah. Just like that. Crank it 'til it falls right off! Crank it 'til it kills me! Gaahhuhhaahh!"

"Thought you had to go to work in the morning. Didn't you say at five?"

"Screw that shit. I'll call in sick. They'll survive without me. Just keep going. Slow down if you want, yeah, go right ahead, I don't mind. That's good too. You can go as slow or as fast as you like, just so long as you keep going. Ohhuuhhaahh."

"I can't believe how much noise you make. You make so much noise! It's embarrassing. Guys usually keep it all in."

"Well, I don't. Feels better when you don't. I don't hold nothing back. Not me. Huuhhaahhh. God you are so awesome. You are the best girl ever. I mean it, K. I mean it. Ohhuuhh!"

"You're gonna wake all your neighbors. They're gonna call the cops on us."

"Hell with my neighbors. Hell with the cops. Hell with the whole world except you and your lovely brutal hand. Haaahhh. Huuuhhnn. Hooohhuuh."

It was getting to her, in fact. Watching him like this and hearing all this shit. She'd never had a guy react this powerfully to anything she did to him. Or if she had, the guy hadn't let himself express it on his face or out loud like this, like Graham was doing. Guys kept everything muffled and hidden, trying to stay tough or some shit. As much as you'd get out of them was some swearing at the very end, as their stupid cocks were shooting off. Maybe you'd get some grunts before that, once they got their rhythm going. They would always try to make them sound like tough guy grunts, of course.

Graham had let himself go absolutely crazy ... and despite all her bitching, it was driving her pretty darn crazy too, under the surface. Now she finally understood why a few other guys she'd been with in the past had got grumpy and upset with her when she didn't make enough noises in bed. Because mostly she kept pretty quiet too, when she had sex. Those other guys didn't make any noises themselves—but they seemed to consider it her duty as a female to moan and scream her head off the whole time for them, or they felt insulted. She always thought making sounds like that was too embarrassing. But now she finally could see why those fellahs made a big deal out of it. The rush it gave you, and the power. Oh yeah. It was really something.

K wasn't sitting back on her heels anymore, like when she started. That hadn't lasted long. He'd grabbed her shoulders a while ago to make her shift higher and closer to him—close as she could press in fact to his legs without actually crawling up on top his lap. Still kneeling but upright. So he could fiddle with her hair and her tits while she was cranking on him. Not really part of the deal, but she hadn't objected. He wasn't pinching her, or anything mean. His touch felt good, actually. A bit too good. Electric shivers through her hair, her earlobes, her nipples. And ... downstairs, also. He wasn't touching her there, and couldn't have reached that far, not at least without moving his legs out of the way and bending over, but she felt the same electric shivers inside it, regardless.

She was glad her couldn't see her crotch anymore. Blocked safe below his own legs. She was soaking the front of her panties pretty seriously. She didn't know for sure—she hadn't glanced down to check—but from the feeling down there, she was pretty sure the moisture would be visible. A huge dark hungry sex-splotch.

He kept on carrying on ... "Huuhh. Hoohh. Haahhahhuuhh."

"My hand is getting pretty tired. Pretty sore, I mean. My whole forearm."

"Funny, you're not the first girl I've heard make that complaint. Yet never seems to happen to my arm when I do this myself."

"Well, shit, you put in so much more practice every day, building up those particular muscles."

"Ha, yeah, that must be it. Haahhuuhh."

"You want to take over for me?"

"Nah, I think I'll pass. You're way better at it. I've never made my dick feel half as good as you're doing. Honest. If you want to give your hand a break, hey, feel free to switch to your mouth."