Rebecca Ch. 01 – BDSM

mobile flash banner



I didn’t have much to unload. A couple backpacks and a few boxes of odds and ends.

“You’re traveling light,” she giggled.

“Yeah, I just got back from overseas. The rest of my stuff is coming by ship.”

“Oh?”

She leaned against her door, arms crossed. About a dozen potted plants bloomed around the front door. They blazed in defiance to the otherwise sterile apartment doors of bland, fashionable colors.

“South Korea. I taught English.”

“So you’re here to teach?”

“No, I’m looking for something new.”

She nodded. Her auburn hair draped her slender shoulders. She wore a pink t-shirt and faded, blue shorts. As she leaned back, her curvy hips pressed the shorts tight. She pouted a little while she wondered, her full lips pushing out.

“It’s a good time,” she said. “Lots of companies desperate for coders. Can you code?”

“I took some classes in college.”

I dropped one of the backpacks and held out my hand. “I’m Jason, your new neighbor.”

“Rebecca.” She took my hand and squeezed it. “Nice to meet you.” Her green eyes held a gaze on me a little longer than I could take and I dropped my eyes.

“You, too,” I quickly whispered.

I felt her laugh, a little hard, and picked up my backpack. “Well, I’ll see you later.”

“Later.”

Inside, I dropped my bags and stared at the empty space: bland, white, plaster walls with metal radiators and a couple of windows. It was a perfect place to begin my new life.

I needed to get some furniture. Meanwhile, I had to call the phone business. In 1996, Dial-up was the only way to get online and I needed to get my resume out to these online job companies.

My hand tingled and I felt my heart beating faster than I realized. I smelled Jasmine, and it lingered just as the wondered of her did. She was gorgeous, but way out of my league.

“Ain’t gonna happen, Jason,” I told myself.

The apartment doors faced a little creek with a red sidewalk that wound from door to door. I all the time passed Rebecca’s door on the way to the parking lot. I hadn’t found a job yet. Whenever I crossed her place, usually during working hours, her apartment was empty. I was relieved. She really got to me.

I carried large boxes inside. The rest of my things had arrived. More books, a couple of smaller, antique tables and souvenirs from Korea, and some clothes I’d been really, really impatient to try on.

I tore into the boxes and found them. South Korean fashion was obsessed with vinyl and latex and anything with a heavy shine. Asians love clothes that shine. So did I. I ran my hand across the thin, vinyl pants and shirts. One pair, even though they were vinyl, had a drape like silk. I slipped them on. Black and iridescent, they clung to my athletic waist. I found a black, silk shirt that fitted my frame like a silhouette.

The bathroom lights danced on the folds. Watching myself in the mirror, I ran a hand across the growing bulge and unzipped the fly. I stroked with my right hand while running my hands across my chest and legs. The lights rippled off of the fabric. I’d waited weeks for this and so it didn’t take long before I shot a load.

I fell back against the wall. There was all the time a let-down after I came, like I was missing something.

The latex peeled off, already a slight sheen of sweat had gathered underneath.

Quickly changing, I hung my clothes next to the suits and dress shirts and began to empty the boxes.

I jumped from a sudden knock. The clothes hung hidden in the back and I slid the closet door shut.

As I sped into the living room, the door opened a crack. “Jason?”

“Who is it?”

Rebecca poked her head inside. “I saw the trunk of your car was open and got a little worried.”

“Oh.” I opened the door and invited her inside. “I just got the rest of my things down at the port and I guess I left the trunk open.”

She ran a finger along the Korean table. “This is beautiful. I bet it cost a fortune.”

“My neighbors were throwing it out and I took it,” I laughed. “So it can’t be worth that much. But I like it.”

“Well, it certainly adds a little class to the place.”

She turned to me. “I wanted to talk to you anyway because I think I found a job for you.”

“That’s great! What is it?”

“A friend of a friend, he’s a trader and he wants to get his office up and running with the Internet. He wants direct access to the commodities market. I told him you were good at tech. He’d like to see you right away, tomorrow if possible.”

“I really want this job.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “Do I need a haircut?”

She stepped close so her breasts were nearly touching my chest and ran her fingers through my hair. Her Jasmine perfume smelled of summer. “I think you’re good.” My heart skipped.

“Got a good suit? This is a serious office. He expects to see you in a suit.”

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, yeah.”

“Let’s take a look.” She turned and was in the bedroom before I could stop her.

I quickly followed her and she already had one of my teaching suits out.

“This looks good. I bet it’s tailored?”

“Yes. Koreans are sticklers for looking good. Hey, I’ll get the things together.” I tried to step in the way but she reached past me.

“And, we’ll need a white shirt, with a tie.” She flung the shirts to the right and yanked one out and threw it on the bed. “And shoes, your shoes need to be polished.”

“I’ll get those!”

“Oh… my….”

Shit. She’d found them.

“Oh, this is very nice.” She pulled out a black, latex shirt and shoved it in my chest. “I bet you look good in this.”

I just stood there, stupidly saying nothing.

“Did you go to a lot of clubs in Seoul?”

“Sometimes.” Whew, that made sense.

Her lips pouted again. Suddenly she frowned. “I knew it. A cute guy like you.”

“What? What?”

“You’re gay, aren’t you? Gay men love wearing fetish clothes. This is what you’d find in a gay bar.”

“No, not gay. I promise.”

“You never slept with a man?”

She had this way of asking things that forced me into telling the truth. Even if I wanted to lie–I couldn’t. She didn’t ask me questions, she told me to answer them, and I did.

“I did once, in Korea. I met a Turk and we thought it would be fun to see what it was like. We both made a mess of things.”

Those green eyes paralyzed me. I couldn’t speak or even move.

She curtly ordered me. “Put some one. I want to see what you look like.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

I couldn’t say no. “At least let me change in private.”

She laughed again, and it cut through me, but she left the room, chuckling.

I threw on the latex shirt and pants with a belt. I got a hard-on right away. This was humiliating. I threw off the pants and put on some tight underwear, hoping that would hide the bulge.

“I’m waiting.”

“Be right there!”

I threw on the pants again and walked into the living room.

She was leaning against the kitchen divider with a glass of water. I stood there, sheepishly and she slowly stared at me, looking up, then down, then up again.

“You’ve got a huge hard-on.”

Shit.

“This is fetish wear for you, isn’t it? It’s okay,” she giggled, “it isn’t a big deal. Lots of fetishes out there. My last boyfriend was obsessed with feet.”

She set the glass down and stood inches away. Her finger ran down my chest, stopping for a tiny second at the nipple before working her way down.

She slid a finger into her mouth, her lips gently surrounding it and pulled it out. The moistened tip circled a nipple.

“It makes a nice shine. Do you polish your latex?”

“I didn’t think you could do that.”

“It maintains the fabric and keeps it lasting longer.”

My cock was bulging so hard that I could see it even as I looked ahead. I blushed.

Turning again, she leaned back against the kitchen divider and sipped the water. I sweated inside the fabric and it was getting uncomfortable. It wasn’t the heat that was making me sweat.

She pulled a company card out from her pocket and set it on the counter. “Here’s the address. He gets there early because Chicago trading is two hours ahead. He said that ten a.m. would be perfect because he’s gotten most of his trades through.”

I stupidly nodded.

She traced her fingers across my sleeve and headed out the door.

“And polish those shoes tonight.”

Mr. Atkins handed me a cup of coffee and sat behind his desk. The office was plain. Every wall had bookshelves crammed with titles that every trader would want. Climate histories of Western Africa for cocoa, US Geological Surveys for oil, political histories of coffee producing countries, and just about everything in between. And about a dozen other books on technical trading.

The view outside could have been from a remote outpost high in the Cascades. The developers had cleverly wound their office park through the tall Douglas Firs. It seemed impossible that the highway was three blocks away.

“I’ve traded by phone for the past twenty years and just follow the TV for quotes, but I want to get everything over the Internet now. I need a couple of computer stations with good software to execute trades. What do you know about that?”

My knowledge was pretty bad, but I knew a little.

“There are a few programs out there. I can do a summary of each one for you and then tell you what hardware you’ll need.”

He grunted. “A lot of those programs make commodities second to stocks and bonds. I want a direct hook-up to commodity trading houses.”

“I’ll research that for you. I can have summaries in two days.”

He grinned and sat back in his chair. “That fast?”

“I’ve been researching Internet stocks and looking at software. I read about commodities, too. What about trading on Internet stocks? They’re making a new world.”

He humphed. “That’ll be over soon. Greenspan is keeping rates low, it’s all going into this fake market.”

“But aren’t these stocks important?”

“Radios used to be important. Mark my words, in five years it’ll all be over. Don’t think you’re gonna be a billionaire by owning these stocks. There’s always irrational exuberance with new technologies. But they don’t change the world. They just make it different. And then they crash.”

He sipped his coffee. “How do you know Rebecca?”

“She’s my next door neighbor.”

“Ah.” He sat for a moment, quietly. “Her last boyfriend dumped her bad. Wedding plans and everything. Guess he got cold feet.”

Koreans are good at hiding their emotions, and my time there kept me from bursting out laughing. Foot fetish, cold feet. Instead I sat quietly.

“If you’re going to date her, let her take her time.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Michael. Call me Michael.”

He stood up and shook my hand. “See you Thursday then.”

My apartment floor was littered with trade magazines with glossy adds for the latest commodity software. In 1996, online reviews were scarce, so I assembled a list and called a few major brokerages to see what they were using. Commodity traders are very friendly. The atmosphere is different from stock and bond markets. I spent hours on the phone getting advice and telling people when the best time to visit the Pacific Northwest was and what restaurants to visit.

Halfway through my report I heard a knock. The door opened a crack. Rebecca doesn’t care about privacy, I guess. I still felt stupid from the other day and dreaded her bringing anything up about it.

“Jason?”

“Hi.”

She stepped inside. After glancing at the mess of magazines littering the floor she said, “I guess he likes you?”

“Yep. Got a report due on Thursday.” Good Jason, I wondered, talk about work.

“What does he want?”

“He wants to trade online and get real-time quotes.”

She brushed apart the magazines and sat cross-legged behind the laptop. The whole move took a second.

As if answering my thoughts she said, “I just got back from yoga. It makes me pretty nimble.”

She picked up a magazine. “CommodiTrade two point oh, the hottest trade software on the net.”

“It’s good.”

She set it down and tapped the laptop. “Now you owe me.”

That sent a shiver down my spine. “Yeah,” I quietly replied, “I guess it does.”

She looked at me then burst out in a laugh. “What do you think I’m going to make you do?”

“I dunno.”

“Something about your fetish?”

“Yeah,” I nodded.

“Well, it does!”

She threw a glossy card on the keyboard. Neon colors swirled around the words, “Catwalk Fetish Ball. Friday, July 12th starting at 8 pm.”

I felt a little bulge. I’d all the time wanted to go to one of those but never had the nerve. And now Rebecca wanted to take me.

“Are you going?” I asked meekly.

“Of course! I know where it is.” She must have seen my face blush. “Jason, I’m into that, too.”

“Oh.” A wave of relief passed through me. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I know,” a slight curl of cruelty passed on her lips. “I wanted to make you sweat.”

I frowned, but underneath the resentment, I found myself accepting it. It seemed natural. I should be happy that she was interested enough in me to be embarrassed like that.

“That’s next Friday. What if I have to work for Michael?”

“It’s just one night.”

Sharp red fingernails curled over the top of the computer. She pressed the lid down over my hands. She leaned in, her weight on my hands while she breathed softly on my lips.

“I’m dying, just dying to go to this Jason, but my old boyfriend would never go in there.”

My hands were trapped, but I didn’t try to pull them out. It felt… right.

We looked at each other and I desperately wanted to kiss her. She must have noticed because she suddenly pulled back.

In that awkward moment, the only thing I wondered of saying was, “A fetish club too weird for a foot fetishist?”

We got a good laugh out of that. Suddenly I felt relaxed and it seemed like a good idea.

“Sure. Yeah, yeah! Let’s do it.”

“But first! She pressed harder. “I want you to have dinner with me this Friday night.”

“Okay.” That sounded stupid. I wanted to pull my hands out but I wanted her to like doing it.

“I want you to wear those clothes you showed me.”

“Really?”

“Really. Can you cook?”

“I’m okay, why?”

“I want you to make a light dinner for us. Make sure you have chilled, white wine.”

She pulled the lid back and stood up.

“I’ll be over at 8 pm.”

Michael liked the report. “Your tech background is coming in handy.”

Different ads were torn out from the magazine and spread across the table. Under each I had bullet pointed the advantages and disadvantages of each program.

“I like this one for the real-time quotes, and this one for the brokerage house connections. What do you think?”

It was hard to focus. Tomorrow night I’d be with Rebecca. I felt a little flush just thinking about it.

“Uh, well, you could run both. But these companies are competing like crazy and in six months they’ll all be doing everything you want. I checked with a few brokers and they all liked CommodiTrade software. It’s a bit more expensive but you get excellent tech support if something goes wrong.”

He nodded. “What about hardware?”

I went over a few PC makers and we finalized that.

He slapped my back. “Excellent job. Come in tomorrow to place the orders and we’ll put it on my card. And, Jason, feel free to research whatever you’re interested in by using my library.”

I couldn’t help but smile. He liked my work and was even thinking of me as an employee.

I drove away from the small village of cedar-slapped offices tucked behind the highway. A job and a date in the same week.

error: Content is protected due to Copyright law !