With or Without You (27 page)

He remained silent.

‘What do you want from me?’ I whispered.

‘Nothing but to observe your beauty.’

I stayed still, as still as I could, while he stared at me, his eyes filled with the same wonderment of the women in Danae’s household. Danae, herself, curled up on one of the sofas with several other girls nestled close around her, simply looked at me and smiled.

‘You will make Aphrodite proud,’ Marcus said. ‘You will make all of us proud.’

I lowered my head, as my new sisters had done, and sighed. I could ask nothing else. Even my father, had he been present, could have expected nothing more. The Oracle came true in an instant and my fate, my destiny, was sealed.

The party went on and on. I thought, hoped really, that Anthony might show up, surprising me as Byron had. That he might suddenly appear when Nora was passing out the bright-pink hats indicating which contestants would be invited to join the reality show. If he had come, he would have seen two girls collapsing in hysterical sobs when they did not make the cut. He would have seen one future bartender kiss Nora fully on the lips and another do that bending over the bar trick that Nora had talked so eloquently about.

But he didn’t.

I waited as long as I could, before feeling the muscles in my body start to tighten. Anticipation made me tense all over. The possibility of being let down was almost too much to bear. I drove the bouncer crazy, asking repeatedly whether Anthony had arrived. ‘No, honey,’ he said. ‘I promise to let you know when your man shows up.’
If
he shows up, I thought, but didn’t say. I didn’t want to hear the words aloud.

Finally, I gave Nora a hug and told her I had to go.

‘You’re not staying? You
have
to stay.’

‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘I have to go.’

She gave me a look that let me know she understood.

Before heading towards Anthony’s apartment, I changed my clothing. It was crazy to do this, but I no longer felt as if I was operating on a completely sane level. Besides, where had acting normal ever gotten me? Wasn’t it time for me to break out of my box? I stood in the fancy bathroom at the Pink Fedora and looked myself over. I
wasn’t in costume any longer, but I might as well have been. A man walked in and gave me the once over, his head nodding in approval – Nora’s bathrooms are unisex as might be expected.

I slipped out of the room before he could say a word.

I arrived at Anthony’s apartment later, wearing only my lightest nightgown, one that reminded me of the togas described in the story. It was a sheer, silvery floor-length number, made of expensive silk. I wore it under my black cashmere coat, which I took off outside of his building, shivering in the cool night air while waiting for him to let me in. I prayed to God that he would let me in, that he wouldn’t leave me out there in the cold. What would I do if he refused to speak to me? I couldn’t go back to the club, back to Nora’s house …

The buzzer sounded and I gratefully made my way up to his apartment floor.

He opened the door quickly and, at first, he didn’t say a word, simply stared. I wondered what he was thinking until he motioned for me to follow him down the hall to his bedroom. The patter of our footsteps on the polished wooden floor sounded so loud to me. I felt as if we’d already been down this path together, and that we were replaying that experience in slow motion. Every movement seemed heightened. Every action seemed choreographed.

I’d never been to his room before, but I didn’t focus too seriously on the surroundings, other than taking note of the raised circular track, the model trains in place at the starting line. After that, I focused on his four-poster bed. It was unmade and, when I put out my hand, I felt warmth at the edge of the bed sheet. I pictured him in bed, and then visualised myself under the covers, naked, alone. I didn’t need him for this first fantasy; I only needed his heat. Needed to wrap myself in the sheets that smelled of his body, needed to put my head in the indents on his pillow, mould myself into the shadow that he had left behind.

But normal people don’t do things like that, do they? Normal people don’t strip off their clothes and climb into their date’s bed. I still had some little desire to be normal, even if it didn’t make sense any more.

I sat on the edge of the bed while he stood in front of me, and now his fingers moved to lift my nightgown, pull it up to my shoulders, and his lips followed the trail of his hands. He revealed more and more pale skin, and his fingers moved all the way up my ribs to my small breasts. My body trembled as he touched me. He was being so gentle. Too gentle. What was this? What did I want from him?

Anthony pushed me back on the bed, slid the nightgown over my head and off me. He straddled me, looked down at me. ‘Good girls are rewarded,’ he said. ‘Did you know that?’

When I shook my head, he said, ‘Liar,’ and I instantly blushed. Was I lying? I didn’t know. Confusion beat through me, and I wished I could find my voice and explain. Wished I could confess to him everything I’d wanted from the start, from that very first kiss, from long before his lips had met mine.

He put his hands forwards and into my hair. His fingertips stroked my hair away from my face, then tangled in the strands of caramel softness pulled free.

‘Don’t be silent,’ he said. ‘Talk to me.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘But don’t say that.’

‘I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t trust you. I’m sorry that I went behind your back. I’m –’

‘Don’t say that,’ he said again. ‘It’s not what I want to hear.’

‘Then what?’ I asked. I could feel how hard he was against me, and how much I was desperate to feel him inside of me.

He said, ‘Good girls are rewarded, and bad girls are punished.’

And now I did understand. He didn’t want me to tell him I was sorry. He wanted me to tell him what I needed.

‘Punish me,’ I said, my voice faltering, dying down to a whisper.

‘How?’

Oh, God, he was going to make me say everything. He was going to make me ask. I wanted to hide my face in his sheets. I wanted to flee – but not really. Because I understood now that fleeing didn’t get me what I wanted. And more than anything else, I wanted him to put me over his lap and spank me. Spank me and then fuck me.

‘How, Eleanor?’

He knew. He was playing with me. He’d had that paddle out. He knew everything that I wanted. And
still
he was tormenting me by making me ask. But that was part of the whole scenario. I wasn’t some blow-up doll, without a mind, without a heart. I had to take responsibility for my actions. I had to ask him for what I wanted.

I took a deep breath. One that I could feel in the very depth of my soul. ‘Spank me,’ I said, and then as if the act of confessing had opened some previously dammed floodgates, the pent-up words finally came out in a rush. ‘Spank me, Anthony. Please, Anthony. Put me over your lap.’ My voice trembled, but I didn’t stop. I needed him to understand how much I wanted everything I was asking for. I would have gotten down on my knees and begged if that’s what he required, but luckily, Anthony took pity on me.

As I was speaking, he began to make my fantasies come true. His hands were strong and warm and, in a flash, he had me upended over his sturdy lap. Even through the faded fabric of his old blue Levis, I could feel how hard he was beneath me, how much this encounter turned him on. We were the perfect pair in this situation. He wanted to give me everything I so desperately craved, and I wanted to take everything he
had to give. Had I always known he would? Was that why I had avoided this for so long? Keeping a fantasy just that – a fantasy – made me never have to fully confront my true desires. But now everything was different. Anthony knew.

He understood.

For the first series of spanks, he simply used his hand on top of my panties. But even with his bare hand alone, he warmed my rear for me, the heavy sensation of his open palm against my satin knickers reverberating throughout my whole body. Over and over his hand connected with my panty-clad bottom. Over and over, I responded to the new sensation as if trained. My pussy became swimmingly wet, and I could not believe how turned on this sensual punishment was making me.

That’s another lie.

I lived for every single smack of his hand against me. My heart seemed to beat at the same rhythm of his hand on my ass, and I could feel my juices pooling between my nether lips, the liquid of my sexual desire filling me. I knew that if he touched me there – just
touched
me – I would come. The orgasm would be sweet. I knew it.

But, greedy thing that I was, I wanted more.

‘Please –’ I begged, hoping that he wouldn’t mind my requests. I had no idea how he would react to my speaking. Once he’d gotten me to ask for what I wanted, he might have been the type to expect to control every part of the encounter. I didn’t know, yet I couldn’t stop myself. ‘Please, Anthony,’ my tremulous voice begged, ‘take my panties down.’ I wriggled my hips as I spoke, letting him know with the urging of my body what I wanted as well as my words.

Don’t deny me, I pleaded, silently. Give me what I need. I’ve waited so long. I’ve been such a good girl. Such a bad girl. I’ve been desperate …

‘Why?’ he asked, and his voice was so deliciously stern that I could hardly control myself.

‘I want you to spank me bare. I want you to take down my panties.’

Once again, as I spoke, my wishes became reality. His fingertips didn’t linger within the waistband of my panties. He had my knickers down my thighs so fast that the fabric almost whistled in the air. But then, for one agonising moment, he waited, and I could guess that he was admiring his handiwork. My behind must have been charmingly pink by now, blushing rosy all over, my rear cheeks far pinker than ever before.

Don’t, I begged in my head. Don’t stop. Don’t wait.

I rocked my hips against his, and I could feel once more how hard he was. A burst of thankfulness ran through me. I needed to know that this scenario turned him on as much as it did me.

Then his fingertips traced over my rounded ass cheeks, and he seemed to be doing more than admiring me – but now inspecting me. Embarrassment flooded through me, and I turned my head into the crook of my arm. I could feel myself blushing harder than ever, and I guessed that my face was becoming as scarlet as my blooming rear cheeks.

How long would he make me wait before he continued?

That query was answered almost immediately. As if determined to outdo his work so far, his hand came up and then down, connecting ferociously with my naked bum. The spank was louder than ever, and the pain was instantaneous. Yet this was what I had dreamed of. This was what I required. His hand came down again on the other side, and then continued quickly, landing a medley of blows back and forth on my rapidly reddening rear.

He smacked my right cheek, then my left, then focused on the underside of my rear, the most tender part of the skin, the sweetest spot. I rocked on his lap as he spanked me, but not because I wanted to get away. Thoughts of
escape were far from my mind. Redemption was the only thing I craved.

Anthony didn’t say a word as he punished me. He was as intent on the act of spanking me as he was at any other task I’d ever witnessed him doing. Right now, I was his work. I was his focus. As I revelled in being the most important thing in his world, the pain echoed inside me.

I had asked for this!

That thought sounded loud in my mind, louder even than the smacks of his hand on my naked skin. I’d begged for this punishment. I deserved it.

I tried my best to stay still for him, but I failed. He had not told me to hold myself steady for him, and I was grateful for that because I thrashed across his lap, my legs kicking in the air. To make his job easier on himself, he scissored one leg over both of mine, and stilled me this way, keeping me in check as he continued my punishment.

I thought of the girl in the story. I thought of my fantasy of Anthony spanking me in the conference room. I realised that all I’d ever wanted was this – to be thrashed like this, by Anthony. How had he known? Way back at our Christmas party, when he’d kissed me, and then let his hand find my ass for a light little tap – how had he known? Was I that transparent? To the right lover, were all my desires visible?

The spanking went on until tears wet my face, and then suddenly, as if he knew my exact breaking point, Anthony was pulling me tightly into his arms and kissing me. Kissing away my tears. Kissing my wet cheeks, my full lips. I felt so exposed, my panties still twisted around one of my ankles, my bottom throbbing from his punishment. My hair a mess, strands in my face. My eyes wet.

But Anthony didn’t seem to find me out of sorts at all. I understood how I’d been pushing my fantasies down, denying them. This is what I wanted. This is what I’d always wanted.

At the end of the kiss, Anthony bit hard into my bottom lip. I relished the way that felt, the spark of pain that made my clit twitch. When we parted, I tried to hide my smile, but I knew he saw it, knew it didn’t matter any more. I sucked in my lip, feeling the indents from his teeth there, touching them as I traced over the marks with my tongue. Adoring them.

‘That’s your reward,’ he said, and I heard the dark laughter in his low voice. ‘That’s the kind of reward very good girls get.’

I wanted to laugh, too, because everything suddenly felt so right. Nothing in my world was wrong. He was on me, with me, needing me, and it was right.

We did not re-enact the scene from the story. He didn’t paint me up and stare at me. Instead, he fucked me in his bed. Not using anything but fingers and tongue, lips and cock. He made my upper thighs wet with the decadent sex of my arousal, and he teased me for it, slapped my thighs as they grew wetter still. When I came the first time, he went and got his paddle, and he used this on my naked ass, reddening it even more than it had been all night.

It was a vicious circle. The more he spanked or slapped or pinched me, the more excited I grew, and the more he punished me for the arousal. It was all a lesson.