Getting Lucky

From the start, she knew that he would be getting lucky.

All the men who dated her wondered. It thrilled her to no end, knowing that she had the power to make their luck. Didn't the ancients, in their wisdom, worship Lady Luck, Fortuna, all-powerful controller of the fates of men? Like a goddess, she held them all in the palm of her hand, to reward or deny as she pleased...

He wasn't the handsomest or the most attractive man she'd ever dated. By conventional standards, he might even be considered a little plain, being a smidge under the average height, and having few features that would make him stand out in a crowd. He might even be called forgettable. But she knew. Perhaps the average person couldn't tell, but she'd been with enough men to know that he had that special something.

Men were absolutely useless without it, no matter how handsome they were. She'd known more than her fair share of pretty boys. She'd even let a few of them get lucky, more in hope than expectation. And more often than not, she had been disappointed, left berating herself once again for falling for a pretty face.

But he was different. She'd seen it as soon as he'd sauntered in, immaculately dressed in a well fitted suit and tie, into the restaurant where they'd agreed to meet for their date, seen it in the subtle way that every eye had briefly turned towards him, seen it in the easy way he sat across the table from her, smiling gently as they talked. She'd seen it, and she'd known.

He'd be getting lucky tonight.

It was just a matter of letting nature play its course.

He had been the perfect gentleman. As a matter of course, he had paid the bill for their moderately expensive dinner. She had returned after a tactical bathroom visit to find that everything had been settled. That was how a gentleman should do things, she thought, with a minimum of fuss and bother. And, like a gentleman should, he had escorted her home, right to her doorstep. He had made no claims on her, which made it all the easier to invite him in. Again, with the absolute minimum of fuss, just an easy confidence that this was the way things should be.

He would be a worthy opponent. Well, she was no slouch either. Even with all the luck in the world, he was going to have to work for it.

They had retired to her living room, still keeping a comfortable distance at either end of her couch. He had removed his jacket and tie, the sleeves of his crisp shirt neatly folded up to reveal well shaped forearms. His top button was undone, displaying a surprisingly delicate throat. It wouldn't be long before she had the rest of his accoutrements undone.

Now was when the game really began.

She draped herself luxuriantly over the armrest, showing her body to its best effect. The dress she'd picked that night was a good one, clinging to every sensual curve, teasing all but revealing nothing. Would he be able to resist? He would, leaning back lazily, matching her ease. A sultry smile rose to her lips. Tonight's game would be a good one.

'Can I interest you in some coffee?' she asked, putting just the right amount of purr into her voice.

'Thank you,' he replied, 'but I think I'll pass. Best to avoid too many stimulants, this late in the evening.'

'Oh? But the night is so young. Surely you don't intend to go to bed so soon?'

'Not at all. But I find that there are better ways to stay awake.'

'I wasn't talking about sleeping.'

'Neither was I.'

Yes, she thought, he would be fun...

'Then what were you talking about?'

'I think we both know, my dear.'

So, that was his game. Not bad, but amateurish. She wasn't going to fall for something so simple. If he wanted her, he would have to ask for it, and place himself as supplicant before her. But, that didn't mean she couldn't tease, and cajole, and lead him on. There were many ways to play this game, and she was determined to enjoy herself.

Slowly, she raised a hand, gesturing languidly at nothing in particular.

'Shall we, then?'

'On the contrary. I think we should stay right here.'

Her breath caught momentarily in her throat. With an effort, she forced herself to relax again, allowing the tension to ease from her body. Perhaps she hadn't heard him correctly. She took a slow breath to compose herself, determined not to show any sign of surprise. Smoothing the frown off her face, she turned to regard him, sitting so easily at the other end of her couch.

He chuckled warmly, shifting his weight to lean towards her and resting his elbows on his knees.

'Don't get me wrong, my dear,' he said, his voice soft and low. 'I have every intention of seeing this night through to the very end. But here is as good a place as any, don't you think?'

She did her best to match the easy smile floating across at her. Something about that smile was starting to make her feel uneasy. There was almost something predatory in it. She would have to take care, not to fall into whatever trap he was laying out for her.

'Why, whatever do you mean?'

Again, he chuckled.

'I think it's time to drop the play acting and get started, no? We both what's going to happen, my dear. Now... Strip.'

She blinked in surprise. Her hands were already moving across her body, loosening the ties of her dress. She caught herself just in time. There was a primal power in his voice, one that demanded obedience. Her body had responded all on its own, moving without her to do his bidding.

He certainly was something, no doubt about it.

She chuckled nervously. Exerting all of her will, she managed to force her body to relax again, pushing herself down into the couch. She needed to bring the situation back under control. This was her game, and she was determined that it would go her way.

He sat unmoving, the easy smile never leaving his lips. She saw the challenge in his eyes.

Well. If that was how he was going to be...

She'd show him. He would rue playing with her. Oh, she'd play his game. And she would win. Before the night was through, she would have him eating from the palm of her hand, begging for more.

Without sparing him a single glance, she unfurled herself, rising to her feet and striding to the centre of the room, her heels clicking seductively on the floorboards. She could feel him staring. Good. Let him look. She paused, just for a moment, before turning sharply to face him, flicking her hair playfully over her shoulder. Let the intensity of her stare carry over to him, letting him know that she would rise to any challenge, and that she would conquer.

He was still smiling. Not for long. She'd wipe that smile right off his face.

Slowly, she began to sway from side to side, running her hands along the curves of her body. It wasn't often that she had to pull out all the tricks, but that didn't mean that she wasn't a master of them. She knew when to put on the show. Especially with some of the shyer ones. By the time she was done, even the most reticent were ready to throw themselves at her. Not that he was shy... no, he was a different opponent. But she would prevail.

She'd have him yet.

Her dress whispered as it fell from her body and hit floor, revealing the weapons at her disposal. Tonight, she'd dressed to kill. With her hips, she drew slow circles in the air, her thighs teasing as she danced. It was important not to rush. Given them time to look, to imagine, to make love to her with their eyes, before moving in. Hide, before revealing all in a flash of glory.

With deft movements, she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, lobbing it casually into the corner of the room. She lifted her hands and tousled her hair, making sure to arc her back and thrust her chest out proudly.

How did he like that?

Just a bit to go. Still swaying gently, she bent forward from the hips, keeping her back arced, pushing up and back to accentuate every luscious curve on her body. Her thumbs found themselves hooking into the band of her panties. She paused. Never taking her eyes from him, she slowly slid them down.

She flicked her panties at him, flashing a smile as he deftly caught them and placed them beside him. Oh, he was a cool customer, this one. She spun on her heels again, taking slow steps around the room, swinging her hips as she walked, feeling every well-toned muscle in her body tense and relax as every inch of her was put on display. Give him a chance to take it all in, the swell of her chest, the sweep of her hips, her long, long legs. Let him get nice hot under the collar.

It was about time. He was ready. Time for her to hit with the finishing blow.

She strutted towards where he sat on the couch, placing one leg on either side of his lap. Resting his hands on her shoulders, she slowly began to lower herself, her glistening body barely an inch from his face.

A gentle hand pushed back against her.

'Now, now, my dear. No need to rush things.'

She sighed in exasperation, jerking herself back to her feet and folding her arms protectively across her chest. This was impossible. She couldn't get a read on him. What on earth did he want, sitting there, smiling lazily at her? How could he remain so calm with all this woman on display in front of him?

'A woman like yourself,' he said, as if reading her mind, 'needs time to be appreciated.'

She pouted. Unless she was sorely mistaken, giving him time to appreciate her was exactly what she had been doing. He chuckled again, seeing the confusion on her face. That smug laugh of his was really getting on her nerves.

'The dancing was, of course, greatly appreciated. But I have something a bit different in mind...'

She tapped her foot impatiently against the floor, her arms still folded across her chest. This was ridiculous. Here she was, standing stark naked in the middle of her own living room, being smiled at by a man she had intended to show the time of his life. This was not how it was supposed to have turned out. What on earth was going on?

'Of course, if you disagree, all you have to do is put your clothes back on, and we can call it an early night. No hard feelings, either way.' The challenge twinkled in his eyes. 'Having come this far though, that seems like such a waste, don't you think?'

She was very quickly losing patience with this man. She stared down her nose at him, determined not to lose her cool. It was tempting to take him up on his offer. Put her clothes back on and call it quits. Show him the door and cut her closes. Put it down to an off night, treat herself to some wine and an ice cream, forget that any of this had ever happened. That would show him. He wouldn't have things his way.

But... that would mean admitting that he had defeated her. And she would not be defeated.

She reluctantly held her ground, letting the silence between them drag out.

The smile never faded from his lips.

'Very good. Now, if you would be so kind to take a few steps back, and let me have a good long look at you.'

Step by step, she inched back to the centre of the room. She unfolded her arms and shrugged her shoulders, cocking her head to one side. Defiantly, she struck a pose, letting her body say what she refused to.

Well?

'Marvellous.'

Of course she was bloody marvellous! What else did he expect? She worked damn hard to stay in perfect shape. There were men who would pay good money, who would crawl across broken glass, just to catch a glimpse of her. He should feel honoured, being able to look at her like this!

'Turn around, my dear, if you please.'

She shuffled around, turning her back towards him. She made a conscious effort to stand tall and proud, pulling herself up to her full height. It wasn't as if she had anything to hide, or anything to be ashamed of. She looked good. She knew she looked good. It was a service to the world, to display her naked beauty.

And yet...

She could feel the burn of his gaze, slowly making its way across her body. To her surprise, she found herself beginning to blush. He still hadn't said anything. Was there something about her body that displeased him? That was impossible. She was perfect. But, as the silence grew longer, the doubt crept in. She could feel a thin bead of sweat trickling down the small her back, suspended in the silence.

'Marvellous. Absolutely marvellous.'

It took all her self-control not to sigh with relief. She slowly spun to face him again, not quite able to hide the meek smile on her face, or the reddening flush across her cheeks.

He didn't seem to notice, or care. He leaned forward and patted the coffee table in front of him.

'If you please, my dear.'

She raised a quizzical eyebrow, unsure of what he wanted. The easy smile never faded, but when he spoke, a hard edge had crept into his voice.

'On the table. Lie down.'

She stumbled forward, pulled in by his voice. Caught herself again just as she was falling, steadying herself against the coffee table. Awkwardly, she swung her leg over, sliding the rest of her body across. The glass felt cold against her naked rear. She closed her eyes as she lay back, trying hard not to think about what was happening, about what had happened to place her in this position. About what was bound to happen next.

A gentle touch against her chest yanked her back to her senses. She held her breath as his finger traced its way down her body. Unconsciously, she arced up to meet his touch, as he caressed her ribs, her stomach, her navel, and lower... oh god, lower...

She gasped as his hand left her body, biting her lip to stop the jolt of frustration welling up inside her She could already hear him chuckling as she squirmed.

'Turn over. On your hands and knees, if you please.'

She quickly rolled over, pushing herself up onto all fours. More than ever before, she felt entirely exposed. She kept her eyes screwed tightly shut, in some vain hope that if she couldn't see him, then he wouldn't be able to see her, to see her bare flesh. Her cheeks were burning. This was humiliating. Here she was, on display, stark naked, posed on all fours on top of her own coffee table.

Just as she was thinking that things couldn't get any worse, she felt a gentle pressure between her shoulders, slowly forcing her down. She gasped as her burning cheek came into contact with the cold glass of her coffee table.

'Now, that's what we want to see. The look suits you, my dear.'

She refused to reply. She didn't trust her voice at the moment. She would not give him the satisfaction.

He ran his hand along her back, sending fire burning through her body. Her hips were wiggling, raised high into the air. She must look ridiculous. She didn't care anymore. All she wanted was for him to keep touching her. To take all of her. Her breath was quickening now, her body aching for his touch. Just a little lower... just a little lower...

Still, he slowly stroked her back, taking his time, enjoying himself. Enjoying her squirming beneath his touch.

At last, at long last, his hand circled lower, cupping the mound of her sex. She moaned as he gently squeezed. She couldn't help it. She had no idea what he was doing to her, but it felt so, so good. All she wanted was for him to continue. He could do whatever he wanted, as long as he didn't stop touching her.

Slowly, he ran a finger along the line of her sex, pausing just slightly at the entrance. She was annoyed at how wet she was. All he had done was run his hand along her back, and already she was dripping. She moaned again, deliberately this time, trying to let him know that he had at last found the right spot, that he had arrived at the place she so desired.

Seeing that he had ceased his movements, she arced her back as far as she could, trying to find him, trying to push herself back onto him, to guide him into her depths and bring her to ultimate bliss.

Smack!

'Now, now, my dear. No need to be so eager.'

The pain shot through her body. Her breath caught in her throat, halfway between a gasp and a moan. Tears were welling in her eyes, her body burning where it pressed against the cold glass table.

It was hardly the first time that she'd been spanked. And it was far from the hardest. Some of her past partners had been wild. But she had always been in control. She had always been the one demanding it, demanding more from the men who served her pleasure, demanding that they give their all to bring her to her highest point.

This was different.

This was a rebuke, an admonishment. This wasn't about her, or what she wanted. This was about telling her that she had done something wrong, that she had been displeasing, that someone one else, someone else's pleasure and enjoyment were more important than her own.

That gentle tap, more than anything else, told her that she had completely lost control.

She sniffed, holding back the tears of shame.

'I'm sorry. Please. Please don't stop.'

This was it. He had won. He had the control. Wherever he led, she would follow. He could have her eating out of the palm of his hand, and so much more, if he had felt like it. He could do whatever he wanted now, and all she would do, all she could do, was accept it.

'That's a good girl. Let us continue then, shall we?'

She winced as he touched her once again, little moans escaping as his fingers gently circled around her. She made no effort to hold her voice back. It didn't matter anymore, if he knew how much pleasure he was giving her. Her pleasure didn't matter at all. It was his to give and take as he saw fit.

And give and take he did. Sometimes he worked relentlessly at her, bringing her without mercy to the very edge of release, giving her pleasure so exquisite that it was indistinguishable from pain. Sometimes he teased her gently, withholding the final touch she so desperately craved, withdrawing his hand and leaving her hips bucking wildly in the air, ragged gasps of frustrated lust bursting from her lips as her body fought to contain itself. Again and again, he raised her towards bliss, only to deny her at the last, never allowing her a moment's respite but keeping her on the very precipice between heaven and hell.

She had lost all track of time, had lost all notion of how often he had brought her teetering to the edge. Her thighs were drenched with her desire, her throat hoarse from sobbing, guttural cries of pleasure and pain. Her exertions had left a fine sheen of sweat across her body, trickling down her back, between her breasts, pressed into the glass surface of the table. Her mind had floated away long ago, drowned in the sensations of her body, the feel of his touch upon her as he worked...

'Well, my dear, I think that we're about ready now, wouldn't you say?'

'...please...please...'

He slipped inside her effortlessly, filling her up entirely, pushing so satisfyingly into the centre of her desire. She felt him lancing through her body, as if he was reaching deep inside her very being, towards the very core of everything she was.

She screamed, over and over, as he guided her over the cresting waves of her climax, her body convulsing uncontrollable around his touch.

He chuckled softly as the pleasure washed over her, proud of his work. Slowly, her breath was returning to her. The overwhelming sensation was passing, fading into a gently throbbing ache between her legs.

All of a sudden, she realised how tired she was. Every muscle in her body ached, protesting at the long effort of holding her body in place. She could feel the tension seeping out of her body, as the waves of pleasure passed and faded away, as the effort became too much for her exhausted body to bear.

Slowly but surely, she was slipping, sliding sideways off the table as her consciousness left her...

The last thing she was aware of was the sensation of falling into a strong and gentle embrace...