Love Me For Me


The door bell rang. It was the pizza delivery guy. Roberta had the twenty ready 
and handed it to thee kid and took the pizza.

³Can I ask you something?²

I looked over my shoulder towards the door. Roberta had the pizza box in one hand
while the delivery guy shuffled around, trying to make change.

³Sure,² he replied.

³In your job, do you get a lot of women inviting you into their homes to have sex
with them?²  Roberta was wearing silk pajama pants, the color of apricots, and a
lightweight robe of the same material with only one button near the top fastened.
I couldnıt imagine what must have been going on in that poor Joeıs mind as she
stood there in bare feet, tummy exposed, hair blue-black and slicked back from
having just come from the shower; looking for all the world like any horny
teenage delivery boyıs dream.

³Uh, nope. Not really,² he admitted.

³Oh. Sorry,² she chirped merrily, then closed the door.

³That was mean of you,² I chided as she set the box down on the coffee table and
flipped open the lid. It was still hot enough that inviting wisps of vapor rose
from the greasy, sausage-strewn surface.

³Thatıs why they pay me the big bucks,² she chuckled, snuggling in next to me on
the couch and prying a gooey slice from the pie.

³Doesnıt it ever worry you?²

She was trying to bite through the cheese, but instead it slid off the slice and
plopped onto her chin, smearing tomato sauce everywhere. She set what was left
back down and wiped her chin, sighing.

³God yes,² she said, finally answering me. ³But I figure if I exercise daily, and
start eating healthy when I turn thirty or so, I should be safe for now.²

³I didnıt mean the pizza...² I hesitated calling her Œsillyı or Œstupidı, even in
fun. ³I meant, doesnıt it worry you to have those people come to your house, that
they know where you live?²

She stopped fussing with the pizza, and turned to look directly into my eyes. I
knew immediately Iıd said the wrong thing.

³ ŒThose people,ı ² she said frostily.

³I didnıt mean it like that!²

³Oh yes you did, Franlin! I could hear it in your voice. ŒThose people.ı Those
perverts! Those weirdoes! Those freaks!²

³Roberta...²

³Because, of course, no normal -² she said the word like she was twisting a
knife, ³person could possibly get turned on a the thought of someone peeing on
them or riding them around like a pony! Itıs even in the DSM - Sadomasochism is
considered a mental illness - so, obviously only a drooling psychopath would ever
want someone to do those things to them.²

³But consider this, Franlin...² Her cheeks were flushed and there was a fiery
light in her eyes. ³if theyıre freaks for wanting those things done to them, what
does that say about me that I enjoy being the one who does it!²

I shifted miserably in my seat.

³So, youıre... really into that, then?²

She laughed angrily. ³No, Franlin! I took a test in high school that said Iıd do
well in a career that involved whips and human degradation!²

I got up off the sofa and started to walk away.

³Where are you going?² she snapped.

³Downstairs,² I replied wearily. ³Iım going to get one of those gags and shut
myself up before I can dig myself in any deeper.²

She leaned over and caught my arm. Looking down, I saw her eyes soften, just a
bit.

³Do you know how long itıs been since a man said all the wrong things to me?² she
asked.

I shrugged.

She sighed. ³Too long.² She pulled me back down next to her. ³Itıs almost kind of
endearing.²

³I have a gift,² I said dryly. She started laughing; clutching my arm and burying
her face in my shoulder.

For a long time we just sat there, she leaning against me, and watched the
shadows lengthen. Finally, somebodyıs stomach started grumbling again, and we
started in on the pizza; eating in silence.

When there was nothing left but some disconsolate pieces or orphaned crust and a
big glob of cheese stuck in the center of the box; I decided to tempt fate and
ask another question.

³So, what was his problem?²

³Whose problem?²

³Hendersonıs. One minute heıs upset that Iım there, the next heıs crying because
Iım going away.²

³Oh, he was thrilled that you were going away. He was just heartbroken that you
were taking ŒMy new toyı with you without getting to play with it himself.²

³I think heıd be disappointed if he knew what it really was.²

³You cannot begin to imagine,² she said, rolling her eyes. ³Itıs like they think
I sleep in a coffin or something.²

³You do look a little like Wednesday Addams, come to think of it.²

She looked up at me and mugged a smile. ³Thank you. Everybody tells me that. Last
year I went to a Halloween party dressed up in a black dress and pigtails. Guess
what?²

³Nobody got it.²

She laughed. ³No! Jesus! It drove me crazy! Everybody kept coming up and asking
me who I was supposed to be!²

³Whatıd you tell them?²

She smiled slyly. ³That I was a serial killer.²

I grinned. ³Because they look like everyone else.²

She didnıt say anything, but she crawled in close and snuggled her head under my
chin.

The world had grown dark, and the only light in the room came from the weird
purplish glow from the fish tank. I could hear her breathing softly, and felt her
ribcage expand and contract peacefully against me.

³Can I ask you something else? Just one more thing? Please?²

She sighed heavily. ³Only if I get to pinch you for every question you ask after
that,² she replied.

³What? Ever?²

³Thatıs two!² she exclaimed happily, one hand pinching my inner thigh wile the
other tweaked a nipple.

³Ow! Hey! Ow!²

She twisted around in my arms so that she was lying on her back, her head in my
lap, staring up at me.

³Well, I figured neither of those were the question you really wanted to ask,
were they?² She batted her eyes at me innocently.

³Okay,² I said, a little annoyed. Sheıd pinched hard. ³Let me think this through
- and thatıs a request not a question!² I added sharply, causing the blooming
smile on her lips to fade into a mock pout.

³Same thing,² she muttered sulkily, but at least she didnıt pinch.

I let out a deep breath. ³What... is it about... I mean, why do you...²

She looked at me intently. ³Why do I enjoy being a dominatrix?² she asked. It was
the first time the word had been spoken between us, and she used it in such a
casual, off hand kind of way that it sent shivers down my spine.

³Yes.²

She sighed and lifted herself out of my lap, making me regret Iıd said anything
at all. She stood up off the couch, arched her back and began swinging her arms
around to stretch them out.

³Iım sorry,² I stammered, ³if itıs something you donıt walk to talk about...²

³No, itıs all right. Really. Itıs just... well, I guess I was expecting a
different question.²

³Like what?²

She got a gleam in her eye. ³Are you asking?²

I squirmed nervously. ³Uh, maybe later.²

³I wonıt forget.²

³So? You were about to say...² I hemmed, trying to get the subject back on track.

³Well... I guess part of it is that I come from pretty aggressive blood. My
grandfather was in Korea, and my uncle was a Marine sniper in Vietnam. My dad
wanted to go, too, but grandma was scared to death sheıd lose both her boys, so
he stayed home and prayed for a letter from the draft board. He always had a bug
up his butt about that. He still does, I guess.

³Anyway, all of them, the whole crew, were hunters. Big time sportsmen.²

She paused. her tongue flickered out unconsciously to moisten her lips.

³So, dad misses out on the war, and eventually marries, and six months later,²
she winked at me and wrinkled her nose, ³little Roberta is born. Ta Da!² She
lifted her arms high above her head and took a sweeping bow.

³And six years after that, my sister Carol is born, and daddy begins to clue in
to the fact that he probably isnıt going to have some strapping young son to take
into the woods with him every weekend. So I got the call.²

Her smile faded briefly and she crossed her arms over her chest in a curiously
protective manner. Then she seemed to suddenly brighten up again.

³I got my first compound for my tenth birthday! Do you know anything about bows,
Franlin?²

³Not really. Sorry.²

She shrugged and sighed sadly. ³Well, it was sweet! My uncle didnıt think a girl
could handle the pull, but I showed him! I took down a fourteen point buck on
opening day - with one shot!²

She beamed with pride.

³I have pictures somewhere. Eighteen and a half inches on the inside spread!²

³Iım not really sure what that means,² I admitted.

³No,² she agreed sadly. ³I guess you wouldnıt.² She paused, took a few breaths,
then started up again.

³Anyway, it turned out I hadnıt killed it outright, just mortally wounded it, so
dad took me over to where it had fallen to finish it off. It was lying on its
side, and it was straining for each breath. My arrow was sticking out of its
ribcage and there was blood running from its mouth and nose. It was a pretty cold
day, and there was steam coming off the blood.

³I remember standing over it, while dad knelt down with the knife. And... I
didnıt feel bad about what Iıd done at all. Not guilty or mean, or even that
sorry for the deer. I felt good. I felt... alive... like I was where I belonged
and this was the way things were supposed to be.²

Her cheeks were bright crimson, and there were eerie blue lights in the deep
recesses of her eyes. Her breathing had that same, post-orgasmic ragged quality
to it.

³I was only ten,² she repeated softly.

³Then a few years later, I discovered boys. Or rather, I discovered that they no
longer seemed quite as repulsive as they did in my younger days.²

³Specifically, I discovered a boy. His name was Thomas. He was a jock, like
you...²

³I was never a jock!² I interrupted. She looked at me curiously, and in my mind I
could imagine her thinking, ³Same thing,² but she didnıt press the issue.

³Well, maybe Thomas would have said the same. That was part of it, a big part of
it. He hung out with the jocks and his body was built like a jock, but his face
had such delicate features, feminine, really...² She smiled at me evilly.
³...like yours.²

³He had long, blonde bangs; and those sad, expressive eyes staring up from
underneath them made him look like a poet, born two hundred years past his time.
I didnıt know his name at first, so I just thought of him as ŒThe Poet,ı and not
long after, ŒMy Poet.ı

³At first, I was just infatuated with the way he looked. Cupidıs bow lips, tiny,
upturned nose...² She smiled again. ³Come to think of it, the similarities are
striking. Are you sure your name is really ŒFranlinı?²

I wriggled on the leather cushions, suddenly unable to get comfortable.
³Positive.²

She hummed quietly and tapped her lips.

³Well, regardless, the whole thing came to a head. I was mooning over him in
studyhall, as was my wont, and suddenly I had a vision. Thomas was running,
naked, through the woods. He looked magnificent, that hard, muscular body in
motion, sweat glistening on his skin. Except for his silly bits. Thatıs what I
called them in those days, because any girl knew you could take down a man easily
with one hard kick to them. They were flopping around between his legs just
looking pitifully ridiculous. He was running like hell, all out, jumping over
fallen trees and dodging between standing ones.

³He was running because I was chasing him.

³I was naked, too, except for my wrist guard, and my quiver. And I had my bow
gripped tightly in my hand. And when the opportunity presented itself, I dropped
to one knee, and lightning quick, drew and released all in one impossibly fluid
motion.²

As sheıd been relating the story, sheıd begun to pace back and forth. She stopped
at the part about firing, directly in front of me.

³And I hit him.² She grinned. ³Right-² she balanced herself on one foot, like a
ballerina about to make a pirouette, and poked me in the side with her big toe,
³- there!²

Her whole face was red. Her eyes and her thin, pink lips glistened with moisture.
A bead of sweat ran down her forehead.

³And he fell. And I walked over to him. He had rolled over onto his back, and
those sad, tragic eyes seemed even more tragic now that they were filled with
helplessness and tears. My arrow stuck out of the side of his abdomen, a bear
hunting tip: four razor sharp sides all dripping with gore, and I ripped!-² Her
sudden, yanking motion caused me to recoil out of fright. ³- it from his body,
and cast it aside.²

³Then I lowered my body down onto his, and I fucked him.²

³Wait. He could maintain an erection after all of that?²

³Well,² she admitted, batting her eyes bashfully, ³it was a fantasy, remember.²

She cast her eyes downward, her voice trailing off sadly.

³Iım sorry, Roberta! Please, go on.²

³Thatıs it, basically. I didnıt really know much about what sex was supposed to
be like, or, God forbid, what an orgasm even was. I just sort of imagined that
fucking felt like they way I felt when Iıd killed my first whitetail, only, like,
times ten.² She sighed.

³And that was it?²

³No,² she said reluctantly, ³but Iım not sure I want to tell you the rest. I
think it would probably freak you out.²

I got up off the sofa and took her hand in mine. She still wouldnıt look at me,
so I reached out with my other and gently lifted her chin until we were gazing
directly into each otherıs eyes.

³Please,² I said in all sincerity, ³I want to know.²

She tried to pull away, but I held on to her tightly. Finally, she said, ³I
strung him up by his feet from the branch of a tree, bled him, boned, gutted and
jointed him... and then I cooked the meat over a fire and ate it for dinner.²

That did freak me out. It took everything I had not to take a step backwards out
of fear. We were both trembling.

³Anyway, when I came out of it, Iıd thought Iıd peed myself or something. My
underwear was so wet and my pussy... hurt... So I got a pass from the teacher and
hurried to the girlıs room and when I got there and sat on the toilet, I started
instinctively... touching... myself. And it felt good!²

She drew out the word so that it was a long, wistful sigh: goooooooood!

³And I was right,² she said, her voice barely a whisper, ³it was exactly the way
I felt when I killed that deer... only so much better, too!²

She lapsed into silence, and we stood there uncertainly, face to face. Then, my
hand shaking, I timorously reached out and slid it under the waistband of her
pajamas. She sucked in her breath sharply as I slid my hand into the yielding,
sopping-wet folds of her vagina.

³Did it feel like this?² I asked softly; tenderly sliding my hand in and out of
her, grasping her rising clitoris between the tips of my fingers. She bit her
lower lip, whimpered, and put her arms around my neck for support.

It was like shoving your hand into the hot, fertile soil along the banks of the
Amazon. I began to pick up my pace, to squeeze her clit a little harder each
time. Her hips began to buck of their own accord and she began to make low,
guttural sounds, like some jungle animal. My hand was immolated in her natural
lubricant.

As she came, she threw her head back and cried out wordlessly in a surprisingly
deep voice. Then her whole body turned to jelly in my arms and I had to
stagger-carry her to the sofa where we dropped, she on top of me.

She continued to whimper faintly, curled up against my chest, as I still played
with her; my hand making short, laconic strokes. I finally stopped, but neither
of us made any move to expel me from there. I could feel her pulse as her blood
ebbed and flowed through her vaginal walls.

The urge to flip her over and plunge my cock into that warm, damp furrow was
terrible, but it would have meant sacrificing the moment we were in; and I wasnıt
about to do that for anything in the world.

Several hours later, our bodies began to betray us with their thirst, their
hunger, their need to eliminate wastes; and with heartbreaking reluctance, we
pried ourselves apart.

After satisfying our needs, we returned to the sofa and sat next to each other,
awkwardly. There was only one thing that could be said between us after that kind
of experience that did not seem small and anticlimactic; yet neither of us -
well, I can only really speak for myself - could find the courage to say it.

Roberta began to root through the pizza box, ferreting out bits of crust that
looked appetizing enough, and started to much.

After much thought and deliberation, I made a show of stretching out my arm and
proffering it to her. She looked at it, then me, curiously.

³What?² she asked, spilling crumbs out of her mouth.

³Iım going to ask another question.²

She sped up her chewing, swallowed with an audible gulp, and washed it down with
a swig form the glass of cabernet sheıd poured during our ³break.²

³Okay,² she said, ³shoot.²

³I wanted to know what it was you thought I was going to ask you.² She turned her
face away from me suddenly. She crossed her arms over her chest as she had
before.

³Roberta?² I asked, gently caressing her temple with the same hand - freshly
washed - that had pleasured her so, earlier in the evening.

She sighed mournfully, and peeked at me shyly from out of the corner of her eye.

³Whenever I tell my boyfriends what I do for a living, they always have one of
two reactions,² she began in a melancholic, yet matter-of-fact, tone. ³Most run
for the hills, screaming...²

³I was pretty borderline on that myself,² I admitted. She smiled; a wan, little
smile.

³The others, about thirty percent of the time I guess, get turned on by it. And
they ask me,² she turned her head back to look me directly eye to eye, ³to
dominate them, like I do my clients.²

My face must have clearly shown my confusion, so she went on.

³Franlin, as much as I enjoy dominating men, it is work. Hard work, that drains me
both physically and emotionally and at the end of the day all I really want is a
back rub, a foot massage, and maybe - maybe - a good roll in the sack, not some
whiny wannabe sub nagging me to take him down into the dungeon and beat him!

³At first, when they would ask, I kind of liked it, but I always made sure to
explain how I felt. I thought if they cared about me, like they said they did,
theyıd understand, but they never did. Most of them expected it, demanded it, as
if domination came part and parcel with going out with me. Hell, some of them
even tried to bully me into domming them! Can you imagine? ŒI bet the local vice
squad would be interested in what youıre doing out here.ı That kind of crap!²

³I bet they regretted that.²

³They did, but not in the way youıre thinking. Do you know the old joke about the
masochist who says to the sadist, ŒBeat me!ı ²

I said I didnıt.

³The sadist says ŒNo.ı Iıd tell them, ŒFuck You! Go ahead and report me! They
know all about me already!ı So long as thereıs no sex, no oral or genital
contact, itıs not prostitution and Iım totally legal.²

³But donıt you, uh, put stuff up their butts?²

She giggled and rolled her eyes. ³Well, sometimes,² she admitted. ³But as I
pointed out to our local constabulary, if itıs illegal to get paid for
introducing a foreign object up someoneıs ass, every cop in this county whoıs
done a full cavity search should be arrested!²

³And that is what I was afraid you were going to ask. That you were going to be
like the others and act as if you had hit the jackpot and would get to live out
your cheap, Men's View fantasy.²

³Donıt worry!² I laughed. I guess I wasnıt convincing enough, because she still
didnıt seem too happy, so I added, ³My Men's View fantasy was always the one
where Iım the pizza delivery guy who gets seduced by the beautiful nymphomaniac
heiress!²

Her raucous laughter was indescribably gratifying. ³Oh God!² she cried out
between guffaws, ³The poor thing! No wonder he never gets any! Did you see his
acne?²

We held on to each other and laughed. Eventually, I started to get a little
thirsty again, so I disentangled from her and got off the sofa. Without warning,
I felt a sharp sting on my ass, and when I spun around, I saw her hand darting
back. She was curled up on the sofa, grinning ear-to-ear.

³Gotcha!² she said, wrinkling her nose.

Not too long thereafter, we went upstairs and made love.

Afterwards, we were content to lay entangled in each otherıs limbs, sweaty and
spent, and let the world pass us by. Roberta lazily ran one finger up and down
the length of my torso, softly humming a tune I couldnıt quite make out.

³Franlin?² she asked, breaking the long, post-coital silence.

³Mmmm?²

³What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?²

³Eleven, I think.²

She sighed.

³What?² I asked, ³Why?²

³Oh, itıs just that, I was hoping you could sit in on some of my sessions
tomorrow. I... liked having you there.² Her hand slid further down along my body
than it had been, her nails gliding across my sluggishly responding penis.

³I liked having someone watch me,² she continued. ³Someone who appreciated my
performance.² Her fingertips now tickled my cock as she played me with a feather
touch.

³Most of my clients are so far into their own little headgames that itıs like
they hardly even know Iım there.² She sighed again. I sighed, too, but for
different reasons. ³I liked having someone there who saw me.²

³And there was one client I was seeing tomorrow that I really wanted you there
for.² She took my shaft in her palm and began jerking me in earnest. ³The
appointment is for ten - surely you could stay for just a little while. Ten,
fifteen minutes?²

I reached down and took hold of her wrist, bringing an end to her hand job. With
great reluctance, I pulled her hand away from my groin.

³Ask me again,² I whispered. And when she did, I said yes.

Copyright İ1998 by SIC