Chapter 2

On Saturday, when we finally met up at his place, things felt a lot calmer between us. We’d found this questionnaire online, like a contract we downloaded, and we sat there laughing and freaking out over the stuff we were reading. The dirty talk was thick in the air, and we were having a blast with all the prep. The bulge under his old shorts was impossible to ignore. And, honestly, it wasn’t just my mouth watering at that moment.

“Leon, if you dare hit me hard enough that I have to use a safe word, I swear I’ll kill you after,” I let out, half-joking but dead serious as a warning.

“Babe, I don’t think it’ll go that far, but… what if we get carried away, right?” he replied, with that carefree tone that always hid a bit of mischief.

“You’re not gonna shit on me, or burn me, or give me shocks…” I went on, my voice dripping with sarcasm, but my eyes locked on the paper as I filled out that ridiculous form.

“The best part is it suggests shit we never even thought of before, huh?” he said, sounding thoughtful, like he’d just discovered a new toy.

“Oh my God, now it’s just more filth to stuff your perverted head with crazy ideas!” I exclaimed, pretending to be worried, while heat crept up my thighs.

“There’s always room for more dirty fun here, sweetheart…” He grinned, all sly.

“But hold on, how does this even start? ‘Cause, look, I don’t think I can do half this stuff if I’m not in the mood…” I confessed, my voice dropping a bit, like I was spilling a secret.

“Ah, babe, I know you pretty well. We’ll ease into it…” He said, the promise of something way bigger hanging in the air, as his hand slid over to hold mine.

It took me forever to pick the damn safe word. Everything I thought of seemed like something I could blurt out in the heat of the moment and accidentally kill the vibe. Of course, that’s not how it worked, but we got a kick out of just imagining it. If I said the word, he’d have to stop, even if just for a second, to check in with me. It was like a pause button — funny and, at the same time, fucking serious.

He looked shocked when he saw I’d agreed to almost everything on the paper. There were things there I’d never even dreamed of doing in my life, let alone imagining. But since he promised to take it slow, I relaxed. The real issue was different: when they throw something at me I’m not ready for, I freeze up. And when I freeze, nothing happens. That’s why putting him in charge seemed like the best idea in the world. He knew exactly what to do, and I knew that with him, I’d end up loving even the stuff I didn’t think I wanted.

“Babe, we could try something today!” he said, with that excitement that just ramped up my own desire.

“But the stuff hasn’t arrived yet…” I said, genuinely disappointed.

“Do this, then. I know you’ll wanna pee first, so go to the bathroom. When you come back, come naked. Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. See this pillow here?” He tossed one of the couch pillows onto the floor, the thud breaking the silence for a second. “When you get here, drop to your knees, stay quiet, and wait to see what I do.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much, huh, Mr. Leon? Watch out…” I teased, kinda impressed by how in control he seemed.

I got up and headed to the bathroom, but my blood was already boiling. The nerves, the anticipation, the idea of giving in to him… My heart was pounding so hard I could barely think straight. Just picturing the possibilities had my body reacting. My little Larissa was so wet it felt like it was dripping, and my soaked panties made it clear this wasn’t just the summer heat. Giving myself to him always drove me wild, but seeing him like this — pumped up, taking charge — had me on the edge before we even started.

In the bathroom, a full-length mirror behind the door showed my whole body. Alone there, I stripped while staring at myself. The clothes came off slow, folded almost like a ritual on the little stool nearby. Nothing special about what I was wearing — a beat-up old bra, worn from too many washes, that made me smile. I really should buy new ones, I thought.

With my tits free, I lingered on them, checking out every curve like it was the first time. So many times my exes had raved about them. Pale, flawless, with nipples a burnt honey shade. Just one thing bugged me: the tips, too small for my taste. They didn’t quite match the rest, but… who knows? Maybe that flaw was what made them so damn cute.

I peeled off my panties, grabbing them by the drenched crotch, soaked from my own nerves. I tossed them into the shower, remembering to wash them later. Facing the mirror straight on, I saw the obvious: I wasn’t shaved smooth. The hair gave away my laziness, grown out past what I’d call decent. No way I’d fix it now — rushing would just make it worse, and the itch would be my punishment.

I usually kept everything smooth and perfect, but this time, the stray hairs were everywhere, showing how off my game I was. I turned, offering my ass to the mirror, and spread to get a better look. Back there, the neglect was even more obvious. That area’s always a pain in the ass. A few long, messy strands always lingered. It wasn’t presentable, but since we hadn’t planned anything fancy, he had no right to bitch.

I sat on the toilet to pee and thought: Is he gonna wanna fuck my ass? I don’t know if I’m clean, and I didn’t wanna check. I decided if he asked today, I’d say no. But could I even say no? On the contract, I’d checked yes on the form. Well, if he really wanted it, he’d probably get a nasty surprise. Unpleasant.

I took my shower and dried off. I felt weirdly exposed walking out naked; it hit me with this huge wave of vulnerability. I could barely touch the doorknob, I was so jittery about it all. I took a deep breath, tried to focus, cleared my mind, and opened the door, heading to the living room where the curtains were now drawn. No one in the other apartments could see what we’d do next.