Antiquities IV

She came home, tired, bone weary. She’d gone round and round with her Boss, who had taken her “upstairs” , where the rounds of arguing continued with their Boss…and she had been vindicated.

But Jim would hate her eternally for it.

Some days just sucked.

She rolled open the door to her loft and saw Gene.  She stepped inside, shut the door, and did a double take…..and guffawed. Her purse fell to the floor, and she sagged against the door, convulsed.

His eyebrow waggled, and he strutted over to her. Not a swagger in his walk, not at all. This was a full-blown cat-strut.

“…” and she bent over, holding her belly and laughing madly. For several minutes she laughed until tears spilled, and she sagged loosely to the floor.

Wiping her eyes, she looked up at him. “Thanks Gene…gosh i needed that…” and a few giggles bubbled up as she took in his outfit, a rubber wetsuit. Skin-tight it showed off an impressive bulge at the “centre of manly delights” as he called it, arching his back and thrusting his pelvis forward, turning this way and that.

“Oh, oh….” and she continued to giggle. He sat down beside her, gathered her into an impromptu one-armed man-hug. “You know, Boss, I am breaking all sorts of djinn codes here, right? Dressing up, and hugging…that’s practically verboten.”

“Still, I really like you …and sometimes breaking the rules is necessary…Ghandi did, and so did Rosa Parks…”

She leaned into him. How had they grown so close so fast? She felt like she’d known him years, rather than 36 short hours.

He slapped her none-to-gently on her thigh. “okay, Boss, time to get up and get dressed!”

“Gene–i am dressed.”

“nope. not. We’re going out! He laughed at the look on her face.

“Look, Boss, i found your date book and guess what i found? Hmmm? Hmmm?  No. Dates. Not one Tom, Harry, -or- Dick, and I accent the “no dick”…” He poked her shoulder as she flushed.

“You haven’t had sex in so long you *blush* about it, Boss. We gotta fix that. I put out an outfit on your bed. Found it in your closet….”

She rose, and went off to see. There was something in his eyes that made her curious and then…she flushed. Oh. My. Gawd. He didn’t find that box….did he?

And of course–he had. There laid out on the bed was a short mini-dress, made entirely of black lace. The bodice had a plunging Vee-neckline, which plummeted to her navel, with cross-lacings that tantalized views of the inner swell of her breasts. The straps came up around her neck, halter style, and left her back bare to her waist. A second vee revealed her asscrack under the crisscrossed ties.

“You’ll look stunning in that, you know.” She turned and looked over her shoulder. Gene lounged in the doorway. “I may be gay, but there is nothing I like better than seeing a woman all tricked out in sexy clothing. I am not immune to a lovely set of titties, you know.”

He leered at her, a caricature, making her laugh yet again.

“Gene, I’m not sure where you’re from, but i can’t wear this out, not here….”

“You can wear it to where I’m going to take you…look…” He proffered the flyer to her.


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She looked up at him. “Gene…i can’t….i mean…that is not my scene anymore…i…”

“You mean you got burned, so now you’ve decided to bury a suppressed need and forget all about that dark side that needs feeding? Gave up ALL sex, focused on the career, yada yada yada.

I’ve heard it all before, Boss. Trust me on this …we’re going!”

He turned away…then back to her. “Don’t forget the cuffs, Boss..” and his laughter trailed out behind him as he went back into the living room.

She stared at the vacated doorway. Well…fuck!  Slowly she shed her clothing, her work, and gingerly she picked up the halter-dress. Hmmm. This one wasn’t hers…..and she looked over her shoulder…

I fixed the rip, and spiffed up the fabric a bit…” his voice came from the living room.

How the fuck did he do that?

She slid it over her head. It fit like a dream. The fabric Gene had “fixed” was even more sheer, more gossamer. It clung in the right places, flared at the skirt. She sat on the edge of her bed and slipped on one stocking, then the other. Ruffled garters held them in place on her thighs.

She took up the thick leather cuffs. These had been made specially for her by a leather-working friend. Her last memory of Him was laughter and good humor as he had affixed them around her wrists that first time…Soft as butter, strong as steel, He’d said. And he’d kissed her softly.

That was the last time she’d seen Him. He’d moved to the West Coast, and she’d headed here to New York. Gosh that was eons ago.

They slid on, and she was able to fasten one, then the other. She slipped into the black heels,  and strolled out to see the reaction on Gene’s face.

It was worth quite a bit to her to see the look flash across his face when he spied her sashaying towards him.

“Well, aren’t YOU the pretty submissive slut, Boss?!” He circled her, tugging here, straightening a curl there.  He pulled her wrists behind her, and fastened them together.

He held his hand out and a pair of clamps with a thick silver chain *poofed* into view.

“No charge” he said, cheerfully, ordering her to “stay”. Her feet froze to the floor. He attached the chain onto each of her nipples through the fabric.

“it’s extra ouchie when there is something between the clamp and your skin, but i made them a bit loose for you…don’t want to usurp the right of any Dom who claims you…”

“I-i don’t want just any Dom to claim me…” she sputtered.

“Don’t worry, Boss. I know *exactly* what you need…”

He took her hand and with a *poof* the loft was empty. The gleaming eyes of the Meissen fish seemed to smile through the thin wisp of genii-smoke that curled slowly to the ceiling, and dissipated.