Matchmaking for the Shy Ch. 06

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This is the sixth and final instalment of Matchmaking for the Shy, a chain story written by members of the Author's Hangout in the Literotica forums. Previous chapters have been written by Mrs_Mackenzie, Devinter, Joy_of_Cooking, Kelliezgirl and TheRedChamber, setting me a tough act to follow.

Many thanks to all five of them for their chapters, responding to suggestions, and making this finale so much fun to write.

*

"You're taking me on a date in a helicopter? A frelling helicopter?" Heather squeaked in shock. In her bid to avoid shouting 'fuck', she'd resorted to the swear word used in her ex's favourite show. She hadn't minded the program, though her fantasies had taken the BDSM overtones in rather different directions than the show-runners had.

"A Farscape fan? I knew I liked you for a reason," Cassian joked, as their ride lurched and the pilot took off. "The whirlygig? Well... you did like a bunch of those millionaire businessman novels... and there have to be a few perks to being a rich nepo kid in the family firm... Okay? Not too OTT?" he suddenly worried, wrinkling his forehead.

Heather rushed to reassure him. Cassian worried far too much. Even if it manifested as care, most of the time; his sister Diane was right about that. "It's great! Oh, wow! Look at that! Oh. I suppose you've seen it before."

The Manhattan skyline dropped below them, lights scattered like diamonds in their blocky formations in the dark below. He squeezed her hand tighter. "It's a cliché, but trust me -- the company makes all the difference! And you look fabulous, by the way."

"Thank you. As do you, as always." His open-necked shirt suited him. She chuckled. "I don't suppose you could tell me where we're going?"

*

"How the other half live," Brianna muttered to Diane, watching Heather disappear into the sky. "Just a minute -- if you're his sister...?"

"Mm. It's the company copter. Each of the family -- and a fair few staff who get bonuses -- get to use it once a year. They've got a corporate box at Madison Square Garden, too. Half the time it's set up with cameras and laser trackers for researching crowd behavior, fire and smoke behaviour, that kind of thing, but again, employees get to use it to host friends, every couple years. I've never used it myself. Don't like that kind of attention. You suddenly get too many friends wanting a piece of you. Not that I've ever had anything too bad -- not like Cass and his ex..."

"What happened with them?"

"Not my story to tell." Brianna stared; Diane gave in. "Oh, in short, she'd planned to seduce a millionaire, and had been seeing her not-actually-ex all along. For over a year."

"Whew." Brianna whistled. "No wonder you both put 'Avoid: unemployed gold-diggers' on your dating forms!" She paraphrased. Brianna had just assumed Diane was being cheeky, with a streak of snobbishness, but her story put Cassian's fear in a different light.

"Mm. For a one-night stand, I might be less fussy. Get back to me with whatever hot guys you have, if you haven't found me a match in the next week!"

"Ha. So, maybe you can tell me -- what do you think is the difference between a 'fuckboy' and a 'fuck bo-ee'?"

"I think it's usually said 'fuck-boy'." She pronounced the second syllable of 'fuckboi' in a high-pitched voice.

"Oh, you've been thinking about such things, have you?"

"Bree, shut up. Now, tell me: what's up with Emma? Trust me, she isn't envious of my brother's money -- she has enough of her own. Not that she wouldn't prefer Wei Wei being alive, to the big bucks payout, but hey, silver linings. Is Zach fed up of her busy life, or what?"

"Not that, at least. Zach's going round like a wet week! I've no idea. I'll have to force them to talk to each other."

"Please do. You're a star, Bree."

"Twinkle, twinkle," Brianna retorted sarcastically. "Oh, Rumbold's emailed me."

"Probably to insist he be allowed to be naked," Diane said, ever the pessimist.

"'This is Rumbold's son.... Dad has a medical appointment that day, so I suggest two weeks later, so I can come with him. Please say if that date doesn't suit. You can sell tickets to ensure numbers don't get out of control. Also, please send us a contract specifying the maximum length of time he can speak for, requiring not being under the influence of drugs, etc. I'll make sure he signs it.'"

"Phew. That solves most of our problems. I'll get a colleague to send you a suitable contract tomorrow."

"Thanks, Diane. You're wonderful."

"I know. Now, find me a guy who can tell me that!"

*

Cassian explained they would be landing soon. In the Hamptons, because obviously Cassian's family had a place 'to summer out east', i. e. in the Hamptons. "You said you liked seafood as well as steak, and it's the best fish restaurant I know. Seriously, it's really nice and friendly, but the most amazing food. You'll want to move in! So I thought, if I were going to do the whole Christian Grey multi-millionaire thing for a night..."

"Are you?" She'd opened the 'Sub Contract', the cover in the same style as Fifty Shades of Grey, and found only blank pages.

"Sorry?"

Heather bit her lip. "The whole Fifty Shades thing? Not just the wealth..."

Cassian smiled, a cheeky grin for once making him look his actual age, only in his late twenties. "Oh, yes! I most certainly want that! And yes, I have played around on the fetish scene a bit -- especially in London, where I knew no-one would know me. Nothing too kinky, and I'm not an expert, but I've spanked a few asses..."

Heather swallowed.

"And enjoyed it. What else? Blindfolded and tied up a couple of women. Only redeeming feature of the ex, really," he added sadly. "Never mind!" He pulled himself together. "Now, it's up to you. I'm looking forward to an excellent meal, with a wonderful companion, no matter what. But. If you want to come back to mine after, and find out how it feels to be... obedient? Then let me know." He sat back and chuckled. "The best way to let me know -- Mike's going to land us in a moment. He'll walk round the front of the copter so he can open the door and let us out. In that time, while he can't see, you could show how... willing you are, by removing your knickers and giving them to me."

Heather squeaked. "You want my panties?"

Cassian pouted, which ensured she didn't want to resist. "Well... I'm sure they're lovely and smell of you. But what I really want is a sign, that you do really want a session of... what should we call it? You obeying me. What do you think?"

She was breathing deeply to calm herself, but her blush and not looking him in the eye boded well, in his limited experience. Heather knew she was going to agree. She couldn't stop the thought: 'I saw 'Sub Contract' and I still got in the bloody helicopter, didn't I?'

"You are wearing underwear, aren't you? Of course, a woman going on a hot date to a top restaurant, sans lingerie over her bottom half, would be the dirty kind of woman who deserved a good spanking..."

Heather giggled, mostly in relief at finding it was true: Cass really did have similar fantasies to her own. And more experience. "And that's the kind of woman you want? Okay." She squirmed in her seat, hitching up the back of her dress, just before they landed at East Hampton heliport. The moment they were on the ground, Heather copied Cassian in unfastening her safety belt. As soon as the pilot exited his door, Heather stood up and reached under herself, in one smooth movement. She sat down, then concentrated on getting her lacy black briefs -- specially chosen as suitable to be seen later in the evening -- over her feet. One high heel was particularly tricky, but she managed it, scrunching up the lace in her hand just as Mike came to the door and could see her through the glass. Cassian put his hand round hers, silently claiming his prize.

*

Meanwhile, working the closing shift, Zach morosely mopped the counter at Coffee Pages. The angular grey-haired regular guy had left two hours ago, then the final two excitable students on a date, and now the last customers had gone. The display of photos of him and Emma seemed placed to be impossible not to see. Would he have to ask Brianna to take the pics down? He knew he didn't want to end what he and Emma had, but how could he convince her?

Zach squeezed out the cloth and reached for another.

*

"Cheers." Heather raised her glass of Chardonnay to Cassian's. Despite the levels of bling around the heliport, they'd been collected in a discreet car and taken to a restaurant behind the beachfront houses in a nearby cove. It might not have the sea view, but that meant people came back for the food. Which was simple but top quality, all from the catch of the day.

"It seems a shame to just to have a lobster roll," Heather remarked, reading the menu.

"Oh, no! It isn't. Have one as a starter, then some fish or other seafood, if you like. We don't have to have dessert here. I mean... we might want to get back to my place, yeah?"

She swallowed. "We might."

Cassian gave that boyish grin she'd fallen for. "I've ice-cream in the freezer."

"That sounds perfect, once I've built an appetite again." She managed a cheeky smirk of her own. "Don't put it on my nipples!"

She loved how Cassian pressed his lips together to suppress his laugh. Clearly now thinking about it. "Why? What will you do if I do?"

She looked down. Meekly, she said, "Let you, sir."

Heather had never seen Cassian look so... hungry?

He pulled himself together quickly. "I love the way you think, but can we not speak of such things until after the food? I really don't want to be distracted from it! How did that meeting with the new client go?"

They ordered, and chatted away easily over their starters. Cassian's extra cultural capital from having had all the opportunities money could buy was evenly balanced, he felt, by Heather's extra years of experience. He hoped she felt the same. If anything, he was slightly intimidated by her.

"Oh, that was so amazing," Heather declared, wiping up the last juices with a scrap of the fresh bread. "You chose well." She sensed he needed some reassurance.

"I'm glad. I'm looking forward to my chowder even more, now. Then you." His smile turned to a frown. "I need to go back to London for a couple days, later this week."

"Oh? You don't sound like you're looking forward to it. Just the having to travel, jet lag, being away from home for two nights, or something else?"

"I don't know." He exhaled. "I made some contacts, but the few friends I had there turned out to be Edie's friends. Half of them knew she was still seeing her ex. And the other half guessed she was with me for my money, and thought that was cool."

"So no real friends, then." Her heart ached for him. "Anyone else you could meet? Develop a contact, even if it's just work? You were saying how you wanted to grow the subsidiary company your own way, do everything right, how your father wanted, despite pressure from shareholders to cut corners. Sounds like you could do with cultivating some people who see things your way?"

"You know, that's a real good idea. There's a couple small companies we subcontracted to -- fire safety engineers, soundproofing experts -- I should be able to schmooze someone. Thank you!"

Heather ignored any complaints that her stomach was full, and ate her last mussel, though reluctantly leaving some of the delectable juices and bread. She agreed that Cassian would be a much better dessert.

"The check, please, and a cab to East Hampton airport. Thank you." He left a generous tip, and they headed back into the night, his hand possessively round her waist as they exited, then sliding down to the curve of her ass where it settled, gripped, and squeezed.

Heather laughed. "Got what you want, there?"

"The start of it. You, naked, is what I really want. Right. Time to behave. I almost wish we were going back to my parents' place -- it's only a block away -- but there's always staff there. And I just don't want to think about certain things in their house!" Uncertainty washed over him again. "Does that make me sound awfully young?"

"Not at all! I'm certainly never having sex in my parents' house, even if they go deaf and senile!"

They spoke of other things in the taxi and in the helicopter, but they were still thinking of sex. Mindful of potential audience, they kissed in a fairly well-behaved way in the elevator, but the moment the door closed on Heather's suite, they were on each other as if attracted by magnets. Heather held Cassian's head, thrilling at the dark curls between her fingers, while he got his hands back on her ass. When the passion of their kissing faded enough for them to stand without a wall supporting them, Cassian let his hand creep up under her dress.

"What have we here?"

"Mm," was Heather's coherent response. She parted her legs wider.

"A sexy short skirt, and no underwear? Sounds like the sort of girl who wants to be spanked."

Knowing she was exactly that, and that he now knew it too, Heather couldn't meet his eyes. Staring at his throat, she replied, "Yes, sir."

"Good. You know what you are. Even without your signature on a contract." Cassian stepped over to the chaise-longue in the corner. "Lucky I'm right handed, isn't it?" He sat down in the center. Heather would be able to lie with her feet over the end, her head by the couch arm, and her bottom over his lap. He pointed at his crotch. "Kick off your shoes, pull your dress up, and lie down."

Heather moved slowly. It was hard to believe her fantasy of so many years was finally coming true. She'd had a couple boyfriends spank her back in the day, but only briefly, in fun. A dominant man, which Cassian had no trouble being, despite his relative youth? She'd given up hope.

The other reason for her hesitation was simple: she was about to get spanked. Forget the embarrassment -- no, the humiliation! That, she could deal with. It turned her on, even. But being spanked had to hurt!

"Come on!" She learned, later, he was channeling the British TV presenter Jeremy Paxman, playing up his impatience. Heather swallowed, knelt on the couch, and arranged herself across the man's lap.

She felt the weight of his hand press against her exposed bottom. Cassian's palm was warm, rubbing gently in circles, first on one butt cheek, then the other. Holding her, in control of her.

And then he spanked her. Repeatedly.

At first, it was pleasant. Then, a mild sting. Until it really hurt. Just as she twisted this way and that over his lap, feeling his cock growing under her, praying he'd stop, he did. She shook with the emotion, relieved, then lay still and quiet, not knowing what to do.

"Beautiful. Stand in the corner, there, and hold your dress up for me to admire. Like that. I'll send a few emails while you stay still."

"Do you have to, sir?" That wasn't what a good submissive should say, was it?

She was relieved that Cassian didn't seem to mind. He ran his hand over her hot pink ass, appreciating it. "Hey, you just suggested I contact potential collaborators in London! There's a guy I met once, Sam. Runs a fire safety consultancy... and I have a name of a soundproofing expert. Right. I'll see if they respond before my next trip. Day after tomorrow." He yawned. "Sometimes, I think I should have stayed in London. "But then," he squeezed Heather's red ass again, while she obediently continued to keep her nose on the wall, "I wouldn't have met you. Worth all the jet lag, and then some! Now, remember last time? It's time for you to suck my cock."

This time, she obeyed without hesitation. "Good girl!", he gasped. She then reaped the benefits: ten minutes later, he shagged her silly. A man her own age wouldn't have been able to do that.

*

The next day, Emma, having advised Brianna to the best of her ability on how to handle young fantasy fans, ensured she could spare an hour between meetings and the school run to find Zach. It was the tail end of Brianna's lunchtime rush, so it worked for both of them.

"Your usual, ma'am?" It was a meeker version of Zach's normal voice.

His attempt at polite, barista-type subservience, whilst clearly upset, tugged at Emma's heartstrings. What was she doing to the poor boy? Why hadn't she rejected him immediately, and gone for someone her own age? Like the regular sitting in the corner, tapping most days on his laptop. Her own age, or nearly so, still a full head of hair, despite grey streaks taking over. 'Distinguished', people said, when men went grey. Still working on his novel, or so he told everyone.

Emma winced. She knew what the sensible option was. The problem was, she didn't like it. How bad would it be if she wasn't sensible? Just sometimes? For once?

"Hang out in my office," Brianna ordered both Emma and Zach to move. Apart from anything else, they didn't look like their happy photos on the wall, advertising her dating service.

Emma nodded, following Zach through the door marked Staff Only.

"How's Callie?" he asked, after they sipped drinks in silence for over a minute.

"A bad sprain, rather than a break, thank God! Walking with her air-boot, now, so she's back in school. But we were so scared..."

"Oh, thank goodness!" He put out his arms, offering comfort. Emma sank into them gratefully for a hug.

Emma hated to admit it, but whatever it was Zach wanted from her, it was nothing to what she wanted -- needed, now she was used to it -- from him. She gave herself another thirty seconds, counted by her breaths, then reluctantly pulled herself upright again.

"Zach? I need to talk to you. Seriously."

He nodded, as a resigned prisoner on the scaffold might. "Go on."

"Look. I like you loads. More than that, even." She sighed. "If I didn't have the family to think about, I might be willing to use that other four-letter word already... The one beginning with L," she added irritably, as Zach had clearly guessed at 'fuck', and was confused.

He blinked. "Oh..."

"Yes. The thing is, I'm not just a Mistress." Emma tried to use her firm voice, which she could use just fine when she was at work.

Zach nodded. "True. You're so much more than that."

Emma rolled her eyes.

"No," he added hastily, "that's not just me being all... worshipping, and that! You're a professional, you're a mom -- a supermom of four, at that! You know about..." he considered what topics she knew about that he didn't. "Organising. Music. Loads of stuff..." Sex was left unsaid.

"Yeah, I guess that's what I was trying to say. And same for you -- you're a beautiful submissive. It scares me, sometimes, what I could do to you, and you'd just... let me."

Zach nodded. "Me, too. Because I know I would." His downturned chin, under the mass of auburn hair, was pure fantasy fodder for Emma.

"Yeah. But, what I wanted to say, before we got interrupted the other night, was that I can deal with that, because I know you do have a backbone in there! You telling me you could make your own decisions about me being too old for you? That was what convinced me to give it a go. You working your ass off to get into Columbia and get through their mad degree course load -- that got you my respect. Along with you knowing you needed a year out to recover. You're stubborn, determined... and now taking a break to look after yourself."

She drew breath. "And choosing to do whatever we're doing. I need to know that you will look after yourself. Tell me what needs you have, what you need." She gave a wry chuckle. "You won't be in your twenties forever. One day you'll be in your forties, and I'll need to massage you, too."

They both stopped, realising what a commitment that would be if it happened. "That... that would be wonderful, M... Emma."

He hugged her, not just to hide the tears coming to his eyes.

"Yeah," she agreed. "And, about sex..."

"The pic of the cage freaked you out?" he guessed.

"Oh, no!" This wasn't the time to mention that yes, she'd been a little disgusted, immediately wondering how a man could wash under it, but a lot more turned on. "Just that you had the wrong end of the stick. I don't have a problem with controlling when you get to enjoy your cock -- which, I'd like to point out, I do like a lot, and it's not actually small or disappointing! Sometimes, the idea of you being locked away sounds like a lot of fun. But other times," -- she stared meaningfully into his eyes -- "I really want the idea of you serving me with your cock."

"So... those condoms..."

"Were to be used, yeah. Not all in one night! Though," she laughed, "you're young enough that might be possible... So, some day... when we have time and a chance, I want to make it special for you."

Another sigh. Emma continued, "I'd better get a move on with that, given how often I get cock-blocked by the family. You'll be starting your job in September? I guess you'll not have time for me then."

He looked confused. "You know where my office will be. Not that far from yours. We should still manage a few... lunches. Morgan's is supposed to be a 'flexible, understanding employer'! Though not as much as Brianna, I suppose. I can still drop by sometimes when you're out, to leave you food and to clean."

"You'd... want to?"

He squinted, disarmingly confused. "Well, yeah?"

She didn't really believe him, but it was nice to know they were back together. 'Happy For Now', as romance authors classified one type of ending.

*

A few days later, Heather answered Cassian's phone call. "Back from London?"

"Yes. I got in late last night. Very late." He yawned. "But means I can do a little work today and still see you tonight." Another yawn. "If you still want to."

"That would be lovely."

"I'm not promising anything kinky tonight. I'm too tired."

"That would still be lovely. Honestly!"

"Are you sure?"

"Seriously! What we did the other day was great, sure, and I'd love to do it again, but not every time I see you. Certainly not all the time."

"You're not just my dirty secretary," he agreed. "No. That's great. I... really like talking to you." He could have added 'as a person', or 'getting wisdom from the older woman', but this conversation was embarrassing enough as it was.

Once he reached Heather's suite, though, their conversation flowed easily. As did the sex. Heather cursed herself for putting up so long with the token fucks from her ex-husband. On the other hand, the only thing to do now was to make up for lost time. Having easily stroked Cassian to full hardness, she demanded he come inside her. Curling up her knees, she felt him deep, filling her up as he lay upon her. She could, just, tell where he'd spanked her a few days ago. "Mm," she purred.

"Good? Tell me what's good, so I can do it again," he gasped -- though his concentration vanished as his orgasm took over.

"Just feeling you rubbing over where it's still a bit sore. It felt so good," she admitted.

"Mm-hm? Should I top you up before we go to sleep? So you can feel it when we fuck in the morning." He pinched her bum, and she squealed. He almost got hard again from it.

Blushing, she agreed.

"Very well. Lie down there. Mm," he stroked her. "You, having a red bottom all the time? Anyone else who ever saw it would know what a naughty thing you are." He didn't mention that added to the attraction -- she'd be way less likely to risk cheating on him, because showing off a pink spanked ass would be embarrassing. Unless she met someone from that kind of scene. Would she be into those kinds of clubs? His own take on fetish clubs was 'look, watch, enjoy, then fuck like bunnies', there or afterwards. Cassian let himself imagine other men all admiring his Heather, dutifully draping herself across his lap to be spanked. And then thanking him with a blow job. His groin twitched at the idea. Yes, that was definitely something to include when they next played properly.

She squirmed, enjoying the warmth and mild pain on her backside, knowing it would still be rosy pink the next day. When they woke up, she asked, "Take me from behind?"

Seeing his woman on all-fours on the bed, her crimson ass raised up, begging for him, Cassian was delighted to oblige, even before his first coffee of the day.

"Oh!" Every inch of her ass felt almost like her clit when he thrust against it. She hadn't expected to be screaming that much, that early in the morning. She really hoped these walls were soundproof. On the other hand, she didn't care if they weren't.

They showered and breakfasted, then went their respective ways to work. With a date planned for Thursday night, and big smiles on their faces.

*

It was another late-lunch date, this time at Emma's apartment. Zach moved Emma's foot to one side of his lap and picked up her other foot to massage it in the same way. "Yes, that's a good idea."

Emma had mentioned to her older kids that she'd been using a TaskBunny service for a bit of ad hoc cleaning and meal prep -- hence the repeated deliveries of plastic boxes in the fridge. So they might bump into the regular guy, called Zach. Who was nice, as well as reliable.

"Obviously I'll have to sound professional, becoming friendly, in front of them, but at least it means you don't have to rush out immediately, or worry about one of them seeing you here." She laughed. "I might even confess to having a slight crush on the fit young man! Might get Callie to open up to me, you never know."

"As long as you don't share too much with your daughter!" Zach could convince himself he was just a kind guy, worshipping his deserving mistress, and it was all totally natural. But no way he could ever tell anyone else that he was not so much Emma's toy-boy -- a fair enough accusation; there was a twenty-year age difference after all -- but more of a sex slave. A gimp, even.

"You think? I mean, I could be completely honest and reassure her that no, I have never once had your cock inside me, she teased.

He blushed, as expected. It wasn't that he never got off. Sometimes she enjoyed touching his virgin cock and making him erupt like a rocket, even. But if there was any fucking, it was her applying her sturdy strap-on to his ass. His grateful, increasingly open ass. Though she did rather enjoy just watching him apply toys to himself -- or to her -- rather than her having to do any work herself. Or, like today, have him get increasingly wound up by the humbler which was all he was wearing, while making her feet feel divine. She liked how the smooth wood clamped round his balls and extended behind his thighs, forcing him to bend subserviently to her. He could wield her vibrator for her, next.

She hastened to reassure him. "Don't you worry. Just, if we want to keep seeing each other once you're working again, it's a fact -- you'll have to at least see them in passing. There's just not enough hours in the day for it to work, otherwise."

"You... you do want us to continue?"

"Don't you?"

He could hardly get his words out. "Yeah... yes!"

"Good." She favoured him with a smile. Which reminded him that this was a proper satisfying relationship, however weird it was, because her happiness was all he really wanted. Even if she felt ever so slightly guilty as he applied his fingers and tongue between her legs, followed by using her stick vibrator to fuck her properly. But not guilty enough to change anything, not that time. She really couldn't believe her luck.

The next afternoon, Zach was dressed and about to leave, when Shu Fen returned with the three younger children. Emma did the introductions. "This is Zach, who's been cooking and doing some bits of housekeeping for me. This is Jonas, Etta and Caleb. Callie rides the bus herself from junior high." Callia entered at that moment.

"Hi, Mr Zach. Thank you for making Mommy have more time not doing boring stuff."

"I like your food," Etta piped up.

"Are you why Mommy's been so smiley?" Caleb quizzed him.

Callie, older than the others, merely gave Zach a silent hard stare.

"Yes, he's awesome," Emma replied firmly, shutting the conversation down. See you soon, Zach!"

"Er. Yeah. Lovely to meet you all. Your mom always tells me how great you are. Bye, now."

It occurred to him that he'd been scared to meet Emma's children, partly because he feared he'd feel so much more like them than her. But he didn't. Sure, he was closer to their age, but he was an adult. He'd finished school and college, he had his own place, without parents; he had a relationship. They saw him as an adult. Not like their mom, maybe, but still, a grown-up. It was a huge relief.

*

"How did the trip to London go? I forgot to ask." Heather idly twisted one of Cassian's black curls, that evening.

"It was real good! We sorted out Legal's problem with planning permission. I swear, it's amazing they can build anything in London -- every time they dig, they hit up another archaeological site! Apparently incorporating Roman walls into basements is perfectly normal for them. Our site is just a 'boring bit of Roman street, under some medieval bricks' -- they think it's uninteresting, anyhow, and I'm not arguing! You know the bank, Bloomberg's? They ended up with an entire Temple to Mithras in their sub-basement. They've made it into a tourist attraction." Cassian shrugged. "Various other meetings, lots of HR law -- tedious, but then Sam the fire guy got back to me, suggested I come over at five.

"We had a real good chat. His company are always looking for construction firms to work with who 'do things proper', to go with their testing new materials and all that kind of thing. I won't bore you, we talked about all sorts of building for an hour, but the best part was he said I should keep talking to them, over dinner. He delegated that to a colleague." Cassian chuckled, awkwardly. "Sam had got me onto talking about relationships and all, and I'd mentioned I was a bit nervous about living up to an older woman. He seemed the sort who might have advice -- he must be pushing sixty, and likes doing the sage avuncular thing."

"Aw, Cass! Bless you."

"Anyway, Sam had a word with his guy about what I was looking for, work-wise. Only he must have also mentioned you, because the guy goes, -- he's about forty, Irish -- 'I hear you're in an age-gap relationship too. Trust me, it's a bit scary being the older fella. Tell you what, let's get my better half along. Dan works here too, doing a degree placement.'

"So I'm expecting to meet a hot young woman of twenty-one, trying not to look disapproving. Turns out, his Dan's a dude, and thirty. Real nice guy, getting into architecture. Anyway, between the pair of them and rather a lot of drinks, they convinced me that an age gap of ten to fifteen years is fine at our age. My age, I suppose. 'Keeps me young, it's a good thing,' Adrian said."

"I could do with you keeping me young," Heather agreed.

"Increased blood flow to the skin?" he teased, squeezing her ass again. "Yes. Well, now. I think I promised you some of that this evening." He chuckled. "You know, I love your ass and all that submissive stuff, but I think I like your personality and being a real relationship even more."

"What do you mean?"

"Like, you understand the practicalities of a relationship. It's not 24/7 spanking and bondage and me being the boss. Take, take, take! Of course, turned out there was a reason my last relationship only had the kink and not the... relationship part. But with you, I've got both. Just need to make sure you know I appreciate it. You."

"Both sides of me?" He nodded. "The naughty girl, and the businesswoman?"

"Exactly. I'm really grateful for you kicking me to make more useful contacts in England. Which reminds me." He paused. "Look, I know you wouldn't want to work for Dad's firm. Bad idea, and Dad's firmly against 'fraternizing'. But, you know how you're working for so many different firms, it can get chaotic with peaks and troughs. I know this genius woman in Marketing, who it would be worth chatting to, about how you could pitch yourself for bigger chunks of work, manage your workload, and that."

"That's not a silly idea. I suppose after I kicked Eric out, I was so scared I might not be able to support myself, I didn't like to say no to paying work. He thought it was a 'little job', you see, not a career. Argh! I wasted so much of my life!"

Cassian shrugged. "Like they say, the second best time to do what you should have done is now. Besides, if you'd kicked him out earlier? You wouldn't have wanted me, aged twenty, trust me. Hadn't yet had my rich-boy crisis, still yo-yoing between being a posh wanker and feeling all the ills of the world resting on my shoulder. But, now..." His voice deepened.

She got the hint. "Yes, sir?"

"Strip for me."

"Yes, sir." Her skin tingled in anticipation. Cassian, lounging on his couch in his crisp cotton shirt, polished Oxford shoes and honest-to-god cufflinks, with his boyish good looks, charm, and dark curls, was exactly the image she'd fantasised about for years. The wealthy businessman, dominant but secretly caring, wanting her to be naked for him.

She removed everything down to her lingerie. He pointed at her best bra. "Off." When she stood in just the matching lacy panties, he glared. "I said, strip. Give those to me."

She obeyed, then stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do with her hands and settling for clasped in front of her pubic area.

"Put your hands behind your head. Yes." He came to stand by her. "Legs apart a bit. Like that. Good girl. Standing on display beautifully for me." He stroked down her back and over her ass. "Mine." He reached to pinch one nipple, gently. When Heather squirmed happily, he pinched the other, too, pulling on both of them.

"Oh..." she said, feeling a trickle of juices running down inside her.

"You like that, don't you? Mm. I'll have to get you some nice nipple clamps to decorate those beautiful breasts with." He let go, and weighed her breasts in his hands.

"They're getting saggy," she sighed.

"Excuse me? No, they're perfect. Round and soft. And I don't want to hear you putting yourself down, either. In fact, naughty girl, I don't want to hear you tonight."

She gasped. Then, greatly daring, she asked, "Safe word?"

"Oh, yes, of course. Do you want to pick one? I mean, 'safeword' would work. I'd obey it."

"You choose, sir."

"In that case, I choose 'antidisestablishmentarianism'! I will also accept 'floccinaucinihilipilification'." He grinned at her horror. "Or, like I said, 'safeword, red, yellow'... Even words like 'No', or 'Stop' -- though I might then ask you for permission to start again, or say 'yes'."

She nodded, hands still behind her head. She could see her nipples, pinker than usual. "Yes, sir." Now she'd started saying that phrase, it was hard to stop.

"Good girl." He stroked up her thigh and ran one finger past her pussy. "Mmm! You're wet already. So sexy for me, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir." It looked like he liked hearing it as much as she liked saying it. It was as well his suit was generously cut in the front of the pants.

"Yes. But like I was saying, I don't want to hear you speak unless it's important communication." She nodded again. "I could gag you," -- he rolled her moist panties around in his hand before placing them in his pocket -- "but instead, I think you need to fill your mouth with my cock." He returned to the couch. "Kneel there. Take my cock out, yes, use your hands. Now, suck me off."

She obeyed, taking his cock into her mouth, her jaw straining slightly as she ensured his head wouldn't be scraped on her teeth. She held his shaft firmly, and he sprang from half-hard to totally rigid.

"Yeah, that's so good. Yeah. Now, hands back behind your head... just your mouth..."

Heather had never given a hands-free blow job before. It was sloppy and inelegant. Once, even, his cock slipped out of her mouth before she could take it back in and swallow it down a bit further. From his heavy breathing, she suspected that was the point.

She diligently sucked on his cock head, licking his eye and under his ridge, slurping as best she could as he began to twitch wildly. She should have predicted it, but the gush of cum caught her by surprise. She swallowed a little, but had to sit back and cough.

"Come here." He put his arm out, and she sat next to him, cuddling on the sofa. "Such a good girl." He kissed her. Looking down at his pants, covered in all his cum that wasn't on her face, he added, "One more for the dry-cleaner."

She giggled, comfortable in his arms. "Thank you, sir."

"Thank you, I think, Miss Secretary! Still okay? Then, in a few minutes, we'll go next door to my office. I may have mentioned I have a large desk."

For her to bend over. She remembered, all right. She shivered in anticipation, and he snuggled closer. After a couple more minutes kissing, he told her to stand up.

"Now, Miss Secretary, it's time to work." He took her hand and they went down the hall to a smaller room, dominated by a huge mahogany desk. On the far side was a classic 'boss' chair, with his half of the inlaid-leather surface protected by a giant blotter book, doodles covering part of the right hand side. The side of the desk facing them had piles of papers to the side, a notepad and mug of pens in the center, and no chair. Heather swallowed.

"I didn't write that contract; I needed more information. Your task: I want ten sentences explaining things you would like to try in a scene. What sort of bondage you might enjoy, or toys. And what you wouldn't like, I suppose. Might you enjoy being taken to a fetish club? Playing in public, or just in private? What words can I call you? What shouldn't I say? You get the idea. I want one hundred words, at least, please. I'll go change my pants and be right back."

He pinched her butt again. "Oh, dear, there's no chair for you." There was, but Cassian had pushed it to the side of the room and piled a dozen books upon it. "You'll just have to kneel."

He waited until she had pen in hand, paper before her, and had written her first few words, before slipping out of the room.

Heather wrote one sentence, then paused. Everything she thought about writing had her blushing furiously. Knowing he'd expect more words before she returned, she added another admission. And a third, embarrassing confession. Then it became easier. He already knew she was a naughty, dirty girl, craving correction. By the time he returned, fresh formal pants, shoes shined to perfection, she was half done.

He peered over her shoulder. "Good girl! Keep going." He went to sit across the desk from her, leaning back in the executive chair and clasping his hands. "I could get used to this. A beautiful, naked, secretary. In fact, I intend to." He opened the bottom drawer of the desk and retrieved a cut-glass tumbler and a whisky bottle. "I think a small celebration is in order." He poured a mere dribble of a single malt. "Hm. Lift your breasts so they rest on the desk. That's better." She was definitely the perfect height, he decided. Tits on show like on a shelf in a store, pink cheeks as she continued to confess her deepest desires. A perfect decoration for his home office. He estimated her word count. After sipping his whisky, mostly to look like the rich company director he actually was, he went over to her.

"That's enough, for now." Startled, she dropped the pen and her breasts fell from the desk, nipples scraping over the polished wooden edge. He read. "Oh yes, you will need a collar. An attractive one, that's also... functional." He mimed wrists pulling at a neck collar.

She swallowed. "Yes, sir."

"A corset? Yes, I'd love to see you in one. My, what a lot of suggested toys. Oh yes, I think we may need a shopping trip. No, not online. I want to see your face as I show you things in an actual fetish market. Even a fetish club, you say? 'Nervous, but I'd know I'm yours.' 'Look but don't touch'? Oh, I like that idea! You being a dirty girl just for me, people in a club looking, wanting, but not touching because they know you're mine? Oh, yes! We're gonna do that, soon. But first... like you said, you need discipline. Or as I think of it, naughty secretaries need lessons. Red backsides. Stand up."

"Yes, sir."

"Bend over the desk. Arms out straight, above your head." Her fingers just reached the other side. "Now, we've nothing to restrain you with, tonight. Do you promise to be a good girl and stay still?"

"Y... I'll try, sir."

"Good girl. I'll help you. Now, what do you need?" He rubbed his palm in circles on her bottom, clueing her in.

"Spanking, please, sir."

"Yes, you do. I'm not going to count, or anything. I'm going to spank you until I think you're suitably disciplined. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Here goes."

He circled hands round both buttocks and her waist and thighs, possessive. Then he raised one hand, took a moment to admire the woman bending over his desk for him, and let his arm fall.

A faint pink splotch marked where his hand landed on her ass. He spanked her again. And again, covering all the curves of her backside, making her flesh quiver like creamy jelly, until the whole area was reddening and Heather was squirming. Where his blows hit already-marked areas, it was starting to hurt.

He felt a twinge of guilt at hurting his girlfriend. It was rapidly tamped down by his knowledge that she wanted this. And by the fact that it was turning him on no end. A few more spanks, until she gasped. Then he relented, and clawed gently up her inner thighs, instead, until he reached her pussy.

"Spread your legs wider, for me." She shuffled them another few inches apart. "Good girl. Are you enjoying this?" She made a noise that could have meant anything. "It doesn't matter. Because I am." He explored with his fingers. "Ha! Looks like you are, too. Getting wet, from being bent over your boss's desk, all nude, and being spanked. What a little slut you are..." She'd written that she wouldn't mind being called a slut, if it was clearly a compliment.

"My slutty secretary. Aren't you?"

"Yes, sir," she gasped. He had two fingers inside her now, and was probing deeply.

"Yes, you are. Well, you need more colour in your cheeks, my dear." Heather, knowing she was blushing crimson, took a moment to construe his meaning, then felt her face get even hotter. Before her bottom was heated up further.

"Here goes." He resumed his spanking. Within a minute, she couldn't stay still, rising onto her toes, swaying from side to side. "I told you, stay still!" A harsher whack. Then he rubbed her pussy again. She moaned, relaxed, and arched her ass out towards him. "There. You're enjoying this, really, aren't you?"

"Yeah... sort of, sir."

"Sort of? What sort of sentence is that, for a proper secretary?" He slapped her butt a few more times. "I like how you look on your toes, though. We'll have to get you some high heels. And stockings. Don't you think, Miss Secretary?"

"Yes... yes, sir." He'd continued his spanking. He was being more gentle now, though his hand was landing on pink abused flesh, so it felt harder and more difficult to take. She was managing to keep her toes fixed to the ground, but couldn't stop herself swiveling from side to side. Even with his slaps pushing her back to her position.

"Yes, stockings and garters, I think. Make a note of it, please." He paused her spanking, until his poke into a sore spot made her realise he was serious. She groped for the pen and paper and wrote, 'Stockings, garters, heels'.

"Good girl. Nearly done, I think. Back to position, please. Legs a little further apart. Now, where's my wooden ruler? There. I don't want my hand to get sore, do I?"

Heather suppressed a growl. Her ass was very sore already. When the hard smooth wood hit her, she gasped.

"You do sound good! Let's do some more." He landed half a dozen whacks with his ruler, and she squealed with every one. "Oh, yeah! Poor, poor secretary." He felt between her legs again. She was as wet as could be. "Poor, slutty secretary, finally getting the discipline she needs."

"Oh! Please..."

"Finding it difficult? Discipline is supposed to be difficult, darling. Just a bit more, to make sure you've got a rosy red bottom for the rest of the week. To remind you you're a naughty little slut, just wanting to be fucked by her boss."

"Oh, please..."

"Yeah. You want that, don't you? You'd love me to take you over this desk, wouldn't you? Bent over, all wanton, showing off your ass." He spanked a few more times, then switched to caresses. "Showing off your hot red ass, desperate for your boss to fuck it..."

"Please, sir!" Her thighs were quivering now. She was wet enough she might be dripping.

He thrust two fingers into her. They emerged soaked. "God, you're so wet! Wanting my cock so much."

"Yes..."

"Where's my ruler? You're not quite as red as I'd like." Slap. This one was as hard as he could swing. She cried out.

"No...!"

"No? I think you can take a little bit more. For me? If you want my cock?" He knew he had to fuck her, whether she got any more spanking or not. That little groaned cry had got him granite-hard in an instant. "Can I do a little bit more, please?"

She'd been hesitating, but his 'please' got her. She could do this for him. "Yes, sir," she murmured.

"Good girl. A few final strokes." He rained them down, one-two-three-four-five, whacking her with the ruler until she shook and whimpered. After the fifth stroke he tossed the ruler aside, and bent over her to kiss her between the shoulders.

"All done, my dear." He groped both red buttocks and squeezed. She groaned, in a happy way.

"Oh, please..."

"Please, what?"

"Please... your cock, please, sir."

"What do you want me to do with my cock? Full sentences, please."

Heather really wasn't someone who casually threw about words like 'fuck'. But right now there was only one right answer. "Please fuck me, sir."

"Of course." Cassian cursed his decision to put new clothes on as he fumbled his belt, then his underwear. At last, half a second later, he'd got his cock out, stood between her feet, and was slipping easily into her.

"Oh, god!" It was a low scream. "That's so good!"

It was. Cassian felt the heat of her reddened ass as he thrust his groin against it. He forced his arms round her waist and held her tight as he fucked her against the desk.

"Oh, please, please, please..." Heather was past being coherent. "Yes..."

Knowing he'd brought this beautiful, sophisticated woman to being a gibbering wreck -- with the most beautiful crimson ass he'd ever seen, let alone had hands on -- was the trigger for Cassian. He lay on her, his palms on the desk, as he came inside his secretary.

Then they moved to his bed, to cuddle up and debrief.

"We are so doing that again," he declared.

"God, yes. Mm. I think it's going to be fun sitting down for at least five days."

"Let me know when you need a top-up. Over my lap, or another session as a secretary."

"You aren't going to get confused at work, are you?" she teased.

"That's why they're called Personal Assistants, nowadays. 'Secretaries' are always women, and kinda sexy even when they aren't naughty. Like Miss Moneypenny. PAs? They have a job to do. I assure you, I have two PAs, both part time, one's male, and no, we work!"

"I figured as much. But good to know."

"Yeah. Now, if we did do another scene... thinking about the film Secretary, and some ideas..." He showed her a few pictures on his phone. She nodded approvingly at the one of Maggie Gyllenhaal in her leather collar with solid bars attached, meaning her wrists were each fixed over a foot away from her neck. "Yeah? Or maybe your arms bound behind you, short skirt pulled up..."

"High heels. And the skirt would show off the tops of my stockings."

"How slutty," he agreed. "Definitely. And while you'd be wearing full briefs during the day, to cover up your red bottom, you'd take them off before coming into my office, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, sir." She sighed. "You're not really a lingerie man, are you?"

"No? I mean, no, I love lingerie! Just for about thirty seconds, until you take it off. I like you naked, so sue me."

"Naked, except for the stockings and heels and a collar?"

"Exactly. Naked with decoration. Showing off the best bits that are all mine." He stopped, then gave a small chuckle.

"What are you thinking?"

"Oh, I'm pondering a really tricky question! If I took you to a club where I could show you off, wearing just that. Would I want you to be spanked already, so everyone could admire your scarlet ass immediately you entered? Or should you be allowed in unmarked, so I can have fun spanking you with everyone watching?

Heather swallowed. "You wouldn't let anyone else touch me? Then... they could watch...?"

He kissed her. "You're wonderful, you know that?"

"So are you. You're not just the rich dom fantasy, you're so much more."

"But that's a good part of it, right?" He pinched her ass cheek again.

"Yes, Cass. You're right."

He laughed. "I think I like you saying that even more than 'Yes, sir.' Probably because I won't hear it as often!"

Heather laughed, enjoying both sides of him.

*

At the café, the next morning, Zach didn't believe it. "You've seriously got Houston Rambold, the Sparks of War author, to commit in writing to doing a talk, here, next Wednesday?" he quizzed Brianna.

"Mm-hm. He'll read a bit of the sequel he published already, maybe share some details of the forthcoming book, a bunch of fans ask questions -- how bad can it be?"

"You remember I told you every Sparks fan in the city would want to attend?"

"You did. Which is why it's a ticketed event -- twenty bucks, includes a glass of wine, the usual. And all hundred tickets went in minutes. He can come back next month, for that kind of money!"

"Right." Zach raised his voice nervously. "And the cosplayers? In... almost no costumes?"

Brianna passed him a ticket. Small print read: This is a coffee shop, not a costume event. Patrons not wearing suitable clothing may be denied entry without refund. "And I got Jake to provide a pair of bouncers, just in case." Brianna had taken all the advice Diane and Jake could offer.

Zach nodded. "You may need them."

"Why, what were you planning to wear?" Brianna teased her employee, who tried hard not to think of the canon-appropriate gear that Emma liked seeing him in -- next to nothing, essentially. Just a chain round his neck, sometimes. "Oh, hi, Diane!"

Diane was miffed. "Sold out, already, and you didn't even tell me the tickets were on sale?" She pointed at the poster advertising the book evening.

Brianna rummaged in her purse again. "Ye of little faith! Here. That ticket's yours. You're welcome. Why, did you want a plus one?"

Diane ignored that. Any prospective partner wouldn't be invited to the manifestation of her embarrassing childhood crush. Even though Houston must be ninety by now.

Later that afternoon, in the coffee shop, Heather giggled. "Of course Cass and I bought tickets! Happy to support you. It should be mad! I mean, did you read the last book, the one that got censored and never published here? No? Oh, let me read a bit to you. I'm amazed it never won a Bad Sex Award!"

Heather found the text on her phone. "'Gorian moaned. A tell-tale bulge formed beneath the slinky fabric of his robe; a bulge that Vara seized, kneaded, massaged, pressed and squashed. Under her skilled fondling, Gorian's penis and testicles became one single mound that rolled around beneath her hand's masterly grip. Vara felt she was manipulating not a man's bulge but an elusive furry creature -- a sloth, perhaps, which curled up all four silky limbs in response -- and exulted in her feminine power.'"

"Oh, god." Brianna groaned. "And you've heard the new book will be worse?"

"I'll do my best not to laugh," Heather assured her.

*

"I can't believe I'm going to meet Houston Rambold!" Zach's puppyish enthusiasm was infecting Emma, too. "Even if he did go totally mad in the Sixties -- all the LSD, I guess -- and probably hasn't got much better since. I'll be amazed if the new book is at all intelligible."

"You read the fourth one? The one too obscene to be published?"

"Except in a very limited British edition, and then of course circulated around the internet in the Nineties? Yes, I figured out how to access Usenet when I was fifteen, just to download it. I printed it on my brand new printer I'd got for high school. I gave up after ten pages because I didn't understand a word, but tried again as an adult."

"Did you understand it then?"

He blushed. "Let's just say that by then, I understood a lot more of the subtext in the initial trilogy..."

"The virile young men serving the maturer women, as a natural world order?" she teased.

"Mm. They don't all do that. There are other options. Lamia, the women going off by themselves..."

"Persephone ditching the gods and going off to a much more fun version of a convent? Yes, I bet you liked reading about that!"

"You've read them! Book two, at least?"

She nodded. "Given your enthusiasm, I had to. And I can see why you love them. It's Narnia-level world-building."

"Except only those first three books. Sparks, Shards, Scars of War. We mostly pretend the fourth doesn't exist. Scales. And don't let your kids see that one!"

"It's that bad?"

"'Gorian offered his shaft to the glory of Lamia, to be locked away from mere mortals forever'," he quoted.

"Tschuh. Well, I'm sure you've called me your Goddess..."

"At least once or twice..." Mostly when he'd been allowed to rut with his cock between her thighs. Or teased to the point of not being able to refrain from coming. Or when punished for coming without her permission. Quite a lot, actually.

"Exactly. So should any locking happen -- and believe me we'll need to do a lot of research before even considering it; I want to take care of my precious things -- I will also insist on some unlocking!"

Zach swallowed. While also feeling unreasonably proud that Emma found his penis 'precious'.

*

Heather laughed out loud. "You read the rare obscene sequel? Of course you did! You probably own one of those rare two-hundred printed copies..."

Cassian shook his head. "No! Trust me, it wasn't worth the cheap dot-matrix printer paper I printed it out on, in my dad's office, desperately hoping his secretary wouldn't come back early from her lunch..."

Heather laughed. "Really? Sounds like an excuse for a Sparks-type switch to the usual secretary scenario.

"Secretary, great movie," Cassian mused. "Oh! The secretary and the naughty intern? Mm. No. Mrs Rosenberg might have cemented my interest in older women, though. One out of two ain't bad." He leered at his favourite MILF. Was she a MILF, if she had the age and gravitas and beautiful lived-in face, but not the child? He didn't care. He knew what he liked.

"You like Meat Loaf, too?"

"Simple tunes, done well. Revoltingly catchy," he defended himself.

She grinned at his mild embarrassment. "This part-time secretary has no interest in spanking you."

"Well, that's a relief!"

Though she did think it was a good excuse for fondling his ass. He couldn't keep his hands off hers, after all, and she was seeing the attraction. Her backside was still deliciously sore, making being groped much more interesting. She hoped it would calm down in a few days, or they could get one of the padded seats at Coffee Pages that evening for Rambold's talk. She would be horribly distracted, otherwise.

*

Zach came by to drop off another set of meals for Emma, and to spend a couple hours cleaning. It wasn't just him fulfilling her desires; he truly preferred it to a morning alone in his apartment -- his roommate, Damon, had gone on vacation with his girlfriend Gabriela. The kids mostly watched TV or played in their rooms, meaning he and Emma could enjoy holding conversation with another adult.

Emma's phone rang. "Mom? Oh? The roof? Did you call your agency? No? Oh. Really. Can't you? No? All right. Well I'll have to, won't I? They'll have to be. Yes. An hour." She slammed her phone down, truly irate for the first time Zach had seen.

"What's wrong?" Something clearly was.

"Oh. My mother. The definition of learned helplessness. Ever since Dad died, which was about fifteen years ago,. she's made mountains out of molehills and been unable to cope. I usually leave her to the mercy of neighbors, or there's a company who can deal with most house things, but they're not picking up, and she's got water coming through the roof, and she's twisted her ankle. Most people would call a taxi or a local friend to get them to the hospital -- if they didn't just tie it up and wait until Monday -- but my mom? No, it's full-on panic stations. It's been a good three months since her last collywobbles, so it's about time. I'll call Shu Fen and see if she can mind the kids for a few hours."

"She's on vacation this weekend, remember? Someone's wedding," Jonas reminded her.

"Oh,... bother it. Callie! Callie?" Her teenage daughter entered the room. "Callie, I'm so sorry, but I need to go help your grandma for a few hours. She's got an emergency. So you'll have to be in charge of the family. Please don't leave the apartment." Zach could imagine the havoc the younger three could cause, especially together. And understood that the three of them would be too much responsibility out on the streets, just in case one of them acted up. Probably Caleb, he suspected.

"Oh, Mom! I wanted to go to Maya's house. We had plans! Can't Grandma just manage, for once?"

"No, Callie, she can't. I'm sorry, and I'll try to do something nice for you later, but I'm afraid I need you here."

"Oh, god! My life is so shit!" Callia stormed out of the kitchen and slammed her bedroom door behind her. Emma put her head in her hands and took deep breaths, trying to ground herself.

Zach put an arm round her, seeing as they were alone. Then he spoke. "Um. Emma? It may not be my place, but -- would it help if I stayed to be an adult here? Take the responsibility off Callie?"

Emma blinked. "Would you?"

"My only plans involved playing more Call of Duty. I'd probably eat less pizza with them, even if I dialled for one. Or we could make some. I know, you have to really trust someone to let them near your kids, but the offer's there, if you did want."

Emma nodded slowly. "They're old enough to communicate. Okay. That would be a huge help. It should be four hours at most -- hour there, same back, two to deal with her problems, dump her at the clinic if necessary. She's got insurance -- they can admit her if they like. Callie!"

Emma went to knock on her daughter's door. "Change of plan. Zach's going to stay here to be officially responsible for you guys -- well, the younger ones. But as he's not babysat before, I need you to stay for a couple hours to make sure he knows where things are and the little ones are okay with him. I'll call when I start driving home, and then you can go to Maya's. Okay?"

Callia nodded. "Okay. But can you tell Grandma to get a grip?"

Emma laughed ruefully. "I have, many times. Wait until you can drive -- we can take it in turns."

"If she's still alive," Callie muttered, as her mom left.

Emma had left Zach with money, so he and Callie took the kids to the store to get all the fixings for pizza. He figured, rightly, it was a good way to entertain the younger trio for a few hours and to ensure they had lunch.

Pizzas were in the oven three hours later, and Callie emerged from her room. Seeing her siblings had pushed off to watch TV, after watching the first pizza bubbling up in the oven, she clearly decided this was a good time to interrogate Zach.

"Zach? Are you screwing my mother?"

The girl's inappropriate question, the word 'screwing' now only used in trashy novels, plus the memory of his conversation with Emma on the subject, combined to make Zach lose it in laughter.

"What? It's a perfectly reasonable question," the teenager objected.

"I suppose. Apart from being totally an invasion of privacy, and plain rude! But I may as well tell you: no, Callie, I have never screwed your mother. And now, I'm changing the subject, rather than have any conversation that might be considered inadvisable with a minor! Is that pizza done?"

"Not yet. Do you want to fuck my mother?"

"Callie! I'm sure your mom doesn't allow that kind of language."

"You're quite right. But do you?"

"I'm pleading the Fifth. No way am I having this conversation with a child! Move aside, I need to check the pizza."

"So that's a yes, then. That's okay. I think she might be happier if she got to have sex with someone. And she likes you, and she's been much happier since she got you doing housework and stuff."

Zach's jaw ached from keeping his expression deadpan. "Really."

"Yeah. But if you do anything with Mom, you'd better treat her right, or else. It wouldn't be some mild revenge, like squirting ketchup into someone's locker..."

"Right. Anyhow, the pizza's done!" Zach was relieved to have the distraction. "Fetch the others, please. I'll fix a salad." By the time the siblings were seated round the table, Zach was back in control of himself.

Emma texted soon after. 'I'm about to come home. I'm leaving Mom at the Urgent Care clinic. Even though it's not urgent. She can moan at them instead of me. Tell Callie she can go off to Maya's. How are you doing?'

'Fine. We made pizzas, just ate them. Callie just gave me a shovel talk, though.'

'I'm so sorry!'

'Really, it's fine. They're great kids, and they're protective of you. It's great.'

Once she was home again, Emma overheard her family talk about Zach approvingly, and agreed.

*

Two days later, Diane mock-complained to Brianna about her lack of dating matches. "Just give me the fuck-boy. Or the fuck-boi. I'm past caring."

"I'll think about it. Could you help me put out these chairs?"

Emma was somewhat relieved to find Zach dressed normally for the book reading evening. His Sparks of War T-shirt might have been ironed, but otherwise he wore his usual jeans and a zip-up hoodie, as the evening had a cool breeze. Though when she spotted Jake and two of his gym trainees on the door, she did feel it was a shame that Brianna had insisted on 'no shirt, no shoes, no entry'. She wouldn't mind them as a pair of decorative naked flunkies. Zach would be her centerpiece, of course.

News that a new Sparks book was near completion, nearly fifty years after the previous one, over sixty since the original trilogy, meant a couple dozen ticketless fans hung about near the doors, hoping for returns, or just a sight of their reclusive hero.

The room was nearly full. Brianna had borrowed a few dozen folding chairs to add to the usual seating. When Brianna confirmed she didn't need Zach to work, Charles being behind the counter already, Emma pointed him to a cushioned bench seat along the wall, where Diane and Heather waited. Cassian stood at the counter, getting drinks in for them all.

"Do you think he'll show?" Cassian asked Brianna.

"His son, who's coming with him, messaged ten minutes ago, to confirm they should arrive just on seven." In five minutes' time.

"Sounds promising. I have to admit, the guy sounds intriguing. Even if the book is terrible."

"You reckon you can sit through anything, if it makes your lady happy?"

Cassian blushed slightly. "It's only an hour, didn't you say?"

A tall chap in his sixties was ushered in by Jake, who waved at Brianna, pointing at the man. Cassian was confused. Surely, he was too young to be Houston Rambold?

The stranger spoke to Brianna in an undertone. "Hi, yes, I'm Denver Rambold. My father's just outside. Yes, he's pretty much sober -- I think! He wants to make an entrance -- be led in by those two strapping young men. Shall we go up front now, and we'll announce him?"

Jake gave a thumbs-up. The misted-up windows obscured the view, but Cassian could tell an old man was leaning on one of the security guards.

Brianna wiped her hands nervously on her apron, then gathered her usual charismatic welcome around her like a cloak. She squeezed through to the centre back of the coffee shop, where a mic stood before two chairs.

"Good evening, everybody! I'm so pleased you could make it to the first of Coffee Pages' book-reading events. Can you hear me? Excellent. So, without further ado, I'll pass you over to the son of our first author. Denver."

The nondescript man stepped forward. "Hello, everybody. I'm Denver Rambold. I know, I'm not the man you came to see. Rest assured, my father is outside. Yes, Houston Rambold is alive and, well... Ahem. He will read a bit from his new book, yes. I should perhaps warn you guys, it's quite different from his previous ones..."

"What, no sex?" called out a heckler. Jake, by the door, went to stand next to him, his looming bulk subtly implying that further interruptions would lead to prompt eviction.

Denver ran his hand through his thinning hair. "Heh. No, I can assure you, the sex quotient is up there with the third book. Possibly getting on for the fourth... Anyway, let's not keep an old man -- he was ninety-one last month -- in the drizzle any longer."

He lifted an arm, and proclaimed, "Houston Rambold!" A hundred Sparks of War fans and a few less-interested partners turned to watch the door.

The gym-muscled guys led in a white-haired wiry nonagenarian, who had a cane to lean on, but didn't rely on it as he bustled to his place and tested the mic. "Ah! Thank you, thank you. Ha! Here we go again! Just like the old days, reading to the fans. I thought I'd had enough, I'd had my day, but then I saw the results my books were still having -- written in the Fifties, sixty and more years ago -- I was young. Young, then. And I felt bad! I had to share the wisdom I've acquired since. Spread it to you!"

"Oh, dear. Here comes the LSD-fuelled rant," Diane whispered to Brianna.

"You see, young men want to be looked after. They crave the care from their mothers. They need guidance. Why they don't get enough mothering as they grow up, not to need that, that's a whole nother question. That would take me into politics, and I promised I wouldn't talk about politics." A relieved titter ran round the room.

"I was also asked to promise I'd wear a shirt and pants." He removed his jacket to show an inoffensive cotton twill shirt and chinos, the most generic outfit an elderly man could wear. It was clear who knew of the author's reputation, by who chuckled in relief. Emma noticed the regular laptop guy on a stool across from her, who rolled his eyes.

"You see, I was a young man, too. I know, that's hard for you young whipper-snappers to believe. But I was. And I craved care, too. But you know what I wanted even more?" He gave his audience a conspiratorial smirk. "Sex. And even more than that? Someone telling me it was okay to have sexual urges, to get off. And believe you me, I wasn't getting that from my mother!" More laughter. "No, sirree! So I wrote a fantasy world, where there were such women, who would take young men in hand. Make them shape up. And, when they deserved it, they'd get rewards. Now, I like to think there was a good story in Sparks, too." The room murmured agreement.

"Yeah. Now, they say there's only seven stories in the world. Shakespeare wasn't original; he just told his tales well. The Bible's not original; it's just Babylonian and Assyrian myths mixed with the Epic of Gilgamesh, and then some extra emphasis on one character. I took good stories, mixed them up some more, and tried to tell them well. I think I told them well. The sales figures say I did okay....

"Anyhow, that was those three books. Young men, needing guidance. More mature women, keeping them under control. Helping them keep themselves under control. Yeah, y'all got those references, right? 'Cause that's what young men need, a lot of the time. My daddy, he used to say a boy learns fastest from a whip tickling his rump, or a slap from his ma on his ass, and I wouldn't like to say my daddy was wrong."

Emma squeezed Zach's thigh meaningfully. He hoped he wasn't blushing too much.

"And I got a few years older. And I revisited the Sparks 'verse. But I'd grown up." Rambold paused, looking gleeful.

"I grew some more. I learned. You see, craving that kind of woman is fine for the young boys. When I was a child I thought as a child; I wrote as a child, I understood as a child. But, when I became a real man, enlightened? I put away childish things. Yeah, old King James got some things right. For once I was blind, then, seeing in a mirror, dimly, trying to explain the new knowledge I had -- I don't know how many if you read Scales, my publishers didn't want you to have that wisdom, but don't worry, you didn't miss much, because then, soon after I was gagged, censored, prevented from sharing my partial knowledge -- oh, it was a terrible time -- I saw the truth! Face to face!"

"Oh god, is he going tell us he's found God?" Brianna murmured to Diane.

"God knows," she replied.

"Men need to grow up!" Rambold declared.

"No shit," muttered Emma, along with at least half the women in the room.

"They need to realise their destiny!" Rambold thumped his cane on the floor. "This is the lesson men learned from peyote, from acid, from mescaline, cleansing their doors of perception until they see everything as it really is. They need to realise that a real, grown man should be in control of himself. Of his women!"

"Did he say 'woman' or 'women'?" Heather asked Cassian, while the majority of the audience went "Huh?"

Houston walked in a small circle, rhythmically tapping the floor before him with his cane. "By thirty, certainly by forty, a man should be settling down with a woman. I don't say there's anything wrong with her still being that older, maternal type. You've got a good woman, you keep her!"

"Yeah!" came a few cheers from happy men around the room.

"But you gotta show her you're a grown man now. You know what's what. You take the lead. It's time for you to have her decorating your life. Women getting to fifty, they get out of control. It's the menopause, you know."

"It's them not taking any more shit," Diane growled.

"You gotta show your woman what's what. Besides, I tell you, a woman looks so good with a red ass, spanked so she looks like a pair o' cherries -- it's gotta be right, y'know?"

There was a stunned silence. Heather tried not to think about her own ass, still coloured from two days ago, and prayed her cheeks weren't going red. Cassian squeezed her hand.

"So, I'm gonna sit down and read a little to you, now."

The audience mostly sat politely as Rumbold lovingly described his hero now grabbing women by the ass, pulling them to him, and forcing himself on them. "He held her still and demanded the attentions of her nimble, flickering tongue. She surrendered her virtue without further ado. Gorian needed that love Chaana gave him, selfishly. He devoured it, to give him strength. Gorian was an animal, following his instincts."

Zach, familiar with the main characters over the previous four books, tried not to wince at the reversal.

The old man finished his extract: "'His pearly fluid erupted into her penis holster, where it belonged. She gasped, knowing her purpose was fulfilled.'"

"Assassins of Gor, all is forgiven," Cassian muttered into Heather's ear. The whole audience twitched, trying not to laugh at an elderly man.

"It took me a while to accept my new knowledge. It's taken me more years to try to explain why men need to step up, to accept their destiny. Especially as all around us, women are getting more and more out of control. No, no!" He put out a hand. "I said I wouldn't talk politics, and I'll hold to that. But when I saw the dating agency going on here, and young men in Sparks clothing getting together with older ladies -- quite understandable, they're very attractive ladies," -- he gestured to Heather and Emma, who both blushed and tried to melt into their seats -- "but clearly misled by my earlier books into thinking a woman should lead a relationship, the young man should devote himself to her... Well, I felt guilty."

He turned to Zach and Cassian. "So when I saw you in the photos, I knew I had to come and make it right. You need to grow up, and then, you reap the rewards! You take your women, you get them home, get them naked, and you make sure they know what's what! They'd better serve you," -- his eyes suggested sucking cock -- "and, if they give you any lip? Well, as I said, a woman should have a well-spanked ass, whether she deserves it or not. Remind her who's boss. Be men!"

Zach and Cassian glanced nervously at each other. So did Heather and Emma. They blushed. Then all four burst into laughter. Which was the end of anyone at all taking the talk seriously. And a huge relief for both Zach and Heather, who'd been taking it rather personally.

Denver Rambold stood up. "Dad, let's stop there. Okay, thank you all for coming! The new book will probably be published soon..."

"Because there's plenty of vanity presses about nowadays," the writer customer muttered under his breath, to Diane's amusement.

A couple fans had had a confab and decided to get their well-worn paperbacks signed after all. Emma looked at Zach. "You wanted a signing, didn't you?"

"I did."

"Go on. May as well."

So Zach went up next, and shyly pulled his best copy of the trilogy from his bag.

"Hardback? You weren't alive when these came out. I'm flattered, young man, flattered. Thank you for your custom. You bought this set after reading all three? And your T-shirt, I see. Hm. What's your name, boy? Z-A-C-H." Rumbold wrote in the first book, then the second, then more swirling loops in the third.

Excited despite himself, Zach took the first book. He read aloud, "To Zach. You seriously need to grow up." There was the same signature he'd admired for so long, but it was the comment which cut him to the quick.

"You... bastard!"

Fury was better than devastation, but Emma knew Zach would be feeling both. She hastily snatched the books and passed them to Heather, so she could take Zach in her arms.

Emma glared defiantly at Rumbold. "Fuck you! You know nothing!"

"Couldn't have put it better myself." The laptop writer stood up. "Come on, Den, let's get Grandpa out of here."

Denver nodded. Jake and his team helped make way, and Rumbold was removed, in a practised way suggesting this was regularly necessary at family gatherings.

Diane beckoned Brianna over. "Well! I suppose that went okay, in the circs?"

"Mm. An extra grand in takings, versus a hundred new gray hairs on my head? Let's hope the next reading goes more smoothly."

"Maria Christy's 'cozy mysteries with an Australian twist'? It should do. I can't imagine the author of those stories offending anyone! Did that regular guy say he was Houston's grandson? Can't blame him for keeping that quiet!"

Emma took Zach back to hers. She didn't care what anyone thought.

"The author Zach admired for years turned out to be really nasty," she explained to Caleb, who had, of course, woken up when they came in. "So I figured it would be nice for him to have a sleepover. See you in the morning, lovey."

"Night, Zach! See you for breakfast!"

"Don't wake the others," Emma groaned, while delighted at her son's enthusiasm.

In her bedroom, Zach sighed. "A sleepover. Like a kid."

"No," Emma told him sternly. "Like two adults sleeping together, holding each other's bodies like, well, adults. But being adults, there's no sex with the children about."

He nodded, knowing she was right. "Yeah. Though there'd be no fucking anyway." He still hadn't got his cock inside Emma.

Emma lay down next to him. "Seriously? I mean, it depends on how you define 'fuck', so maybe, maybe not. Look at everything we've done. You can't say that's not sex." She had so many hot images in her memory, now. Zach's perfect young gym body, his lush auburn hair, and his docile obedience were a perfect combination. Especially when he was naked and pleasuring her. Or when he fucked himself with a toy, for her to admire. Or... So many options! "More to the point -- no, don't interrupt -- I really want you to fuck me silly. One reason -- just one small one -- is to make you totally convinced you're a functioning adult, about to start your high-flying job and all, no embarrassing virginity to be ashamed of to hold you back. Even though again, thinking of you... you're hardly a sweet innocent thing. are you? My beautiful submissive boy. No. Man. Fuck Rumbold! You're my man! And we're damn well going to fuck like bunnies next week, even if I have to pay for a nanny and a hotel for an afternoon!

Zach nodded. "Yeah. What does he know, anyway? You know, I could sell those books. A first-edition trilogy, in hardback, signed by their reclusive controversial author? With actual messages, no less! That should cover a night or two in a hotel. Or days! And a couple days out with the kids."

"See? Young, but with genius ideas. I knew I loved you for a reason."

Emma hid her face in his shoulder after letting that slip, but both went to sleep smiling.

The next day, Zach arranged for the books to be auctioned, two months later. On the Friday, school broke up. This made Emma's schedule fiendish over the summer, but the following week had two days when the kids were all at day camp. Until six pm.

"I booked a day rate at the Hollister Plaza Hotel & Spa," Emma informed Zach. "Be there for 10 am, or else."

Zach didn't need telling. He was punctual, and escorted Emma around the spa in a tiny pair of Speedos, which Emma was sure were bringing her dirty looks from jealous guests.

In the deserted sauna, he stroked her hair and passed her water, as she let her body relax. In the Jacuzzi, out in the open air on the rooftop terrace, he knelt to massage her feet, enhancing the effect of the bubbles. She put a foot on his crotch.

He beamed up at her. "Enjoying yourself? I was thinking of a light lunch, poolside. Then you can have the facial and manicure you booked. I'll have a massage, while you do that. Then we could go to the hotel room?"

Emma considered. Then she shook her head. "No. I've had enough of interrupted dates. Just in case, and so I can relax after -- you, me: hotel room, now!"

She rose from the water in her bikini -- his perfect Goddess -- and donned her fluffy complimentary robe. He wrapped his towel round his waist, as a nod to decorum in the corridors, but Emma ordered him to take a robe too. "Everyone's already drooling over you. I don't share," she said, leading the way to their floor.

"I can't believe we're doing this!" Zach exclaimed, as they scurried into the bedroom, kissing and unable to keep their hands off each other.

"I can't relax. I keep worrying I'm going to get a phone call, again." Emma admitted.

"Better grab the opportunity quickly, then, hadn't you?" He dropped his white towelling robe to the floor. And his Speedos. Zach smiled, then reached to remove Emma's robe. "Wow! I swear, Mistress, you're more gorgeous than ever."

"You, too. But you need to get one of those condoms on your cock in the next minute. Or else. That Sparks twat wasn't wrong about spanked bottoms being cute, you know."

Zach had risen to the occasion effectively. Had he been practising how to put rubbers on? It was Zach, the perfectionist; of course he had. Emma lay back on the hotel's fat pillows. "Come here. Feel me. I'm wet enough for you, don't you think? Right. You come inside me right now. Fast! And hard. Then we've got the rest of the day to enjoy. Perfect your technique, even."

Her young lover swallowed. "Okay." He ran his fingers round her once more, convincing himself she was open enough for him. A kiss on her clitoris; a deep breath. The moment he'd yearned for, for nearly a decade. Another breath.

Zach thrust forward with his cock, before it all became too terrifying for him.

Finally, losing his virginity, at the age of twenty-two. His Mistress -- Emma -- squeezed all round him in the most delightful way. It was warm and firm round his cock. He felt he was being held all around. Like his own hand, only wetter and better. His tip wasn't feeling the draft from moving air, but was cozy inside a loving female body.

"There you go, honey." Emma spoke lovingly, proudly. "Oh! Yeah... No! Don't switch to swiveling! As you were. Mm... that's good! Keep doing that..."

It wasn't just in her own interest to give him blunt feedback, Emma told herself. Zach always felt most comfortable when he knew he was meeting required standards. Her high standards. Which he was doing...

He gasped words. "I can't keep... I have to..."

"Do it," Emma ordered. "Come inside me. Now!"

He did. Followed by collapsing on her in relief.

"There you go, gorgeous," she murmured, petting his hair. "My talented toy-boy."

He blinked. "I'm not a virgin any more."

"I suppose not. Though it was getting pretty technical even beforehand, with the amount of experience you had in some areas. Pleasuring me, going down on me... even being penetrated yourself! On average, you were probably already more sexually experienced than many guys your age, this morning! Still. How do you feel? Any different?"

Zach thought, enjoying the warm sweat helping stick his body to hers. "I suppose, not really? But it was real nice and I'd love to do it again! Sometime. Not all the time. When you wish, Mistress. But, I guess, it is a weight off my mind. No embarrassing secrets any more."

She laughed. "No secrets? What about how much you enjoy serving a woman twice your age, saggy and greying, kissing her feet for ages? And then letting her take your ass with a big vibrating cock, until you're crying from how much you like it?"

Zach smiled. "Apart from you not being saggy, just soft and mature? I'm not embarrassed about that. I love it."

She took him in her arms, for the luxury of an uninterrupted snuggle in bed. She wasn't totally sure, but thought she'd heard him murmur, "I love you, my Goddess." She held her precious toy-boy tighter.

After their power nap, Emma got Zach to try a couple other positions before they went for their poolside lunch. After eating, they returned to the hotel room, where Emma teased Zach to full stiffness before demanding a massage, seeing as she hadn't booked one. "Besides, they wear too many clothes, the professional masseurs."

"As you wish." He would happily work naked. "There's forty-five minutes until your appointments."

"Good. Back and shoulders, please, plus feet and the little extras."

Zach happily oiled and rubbed his Mistress. Then he kissed both nipples before concentrating on providing extra intimate massage between her legs, to ensure she was satisfied.

"Goodness, you're glowing already, lady!" remarked her skincare therapist. "Tell me your secret -- what products do you use?"

Emma laughed. She admitted, "I had a lovely young man to help keep me young." She pointed across the partition to where Zach was meeting his masseur.

"Mm-mm! I'm not surprised that's working for you! You go for it, lady!"

"Thank you. I want to keep him." She sighed. "Who knows if he'll want to keep someone my age?"

"You've been together three months? And your kids approve? Lady, he knows what he likes! He likes you; ain't no reason to ditch that."

"Mm. I think you're right."

"I know I'm right! I see so many people come in here, with their side pieces or their bored spouses, or their escorts, or their new guys: you can tell. I get to tell these things. You and him, you got a good thing going on."

After their treatments, Emma and Zach snuck up to their room one more time before they had to have a final sauna, shower, and dress to leave. Emma realised it was probably the most sex she'd had in one day in her entire life. Even though her husband had been most satisfactory in that department.

Back in his apartment, Zach took a deep breath. It had taken nine months, but finally he felt ready for the challenge of his demanding forthcoming job. And, of course, for any challenges from Emma. Even the current one, which was 'No masturbation until I see you on Friday.' He sighed happily, convincing himself he liked constant mild frustration. He did like it, because it made Emma happy. When she was happy, Zach was happy.

*

Back on the night of the book reading, Cassian had taken Heather home.

Heather whispered, "I suppose he did get one thing right. Women do look good when their men give them scarlet bottoms."

Annoyingly, Cassian didn't reply, instead musing, "I'm going to have to buy a copy of that new book. Scales of War, was it?"

"Scales was the fourth. He didn't say what the new one is called. But why? To satisfy your collectionist urge? Have the full set?" Heather teased.

"Hm? Oh, partly. I was thinking more of getting you to read pages aloud." He beamed. "Every time you groan, or laugh, or otherwise reject the True World Order, then, well. An extra line from a cane to decorate your beautiful pink bottom, I think." A joking, but fiendish, plan.

"Oh, you bastard!"

"Mm-hm. But you're a dirty slutty secretary, really, aren't you? Who's getting wet from the idea of being physically punished." He ran his hands up under Heather's dress. "And no knickers. Were you getting turned on in that reading, hearing about obedient wives getting spanked and then properly fucked? Yeah? Even though it's frankly the worst porn I've ever heard?"

"You've never set up text-to-speech on Literotica, then?"

"No need. There's a whole Audio category. People reading out their fantasies. Mm. You know in Gor, the slaves were expected to write out all their honest fantasies, hiding nothing from their Masters? Yeah. Well, I want to know yours. More detail than that list you gave me before. Read them, then hear you read them aloud..."

The very thought sent humiliation quivering through her from head to toe -- while also making her more aroused than she had ever been. "Oh, god. Yes, Cass, yes, just fuck me now! Please?"

He opened his fly. "Get me properly hard, first. No hands!"

She knelt. She sucked.

"Good girl. Now, come lay over my lap." He was propped against the headboard, and pushed her dress up out of the way. Her sandals fell off. Her bare ass rose over his thigh, her pussy rubbing over his cock.

The marks from their previous date had faded, but smears of pink still decorated the wonderful pale curves. Cassian's cock jerked against her as he stroked her ass. He might be ass-obsessed, but Heather's ass really was amazing. Not just because he got to do what he wanted with it. That thought gave him ideas. He spanked her butt back to the appropriate shade of pink. In truth, it was less him picking a color, more him reaching the point where he risked coming, if he didn't take a break.

"Stand up. Display for me. Good girl. Now, I know you own a vibrator. Where is it?"

Heather silently pointed to the bottom drawer of the nightstand. Cassian opened it.

"Oh! What an interesting collection!" A magic wand, a Rabbit and a stick vibrator were unsurprising for a divorced woman. Ignoring them, Cassian pulled out a small butt plug and tube of lube, as well as a lipstick-sized vibe. He held the plug up. "Have you used this?" Heather nodded. "It's not as big as a cock, though. Have you thought about taking cock, there? Getting taken in the ass, by a man?" Heather's well-used paperbacks often fell open at anal sex scenes, so it was hardly even a guess.

She nodded again, unable to meet his eyes. "But... I haven't."

"Oh! My sweet, innocent little slut. We'll work you up to that, then." He rubbed his hands together. "The perfect excuse to buy a range of decorative plugs. You know I like just watching you, with your red bottom? A sparkly plug in the center would set it off so well! It would look great while you're on hands and knees, polishing the floor. Or eating, with your hands bound behind your back, maybe?" The submissives in Heather's novels ate off the floor a lot, less for the humiliation and more for the excuse to see their asses in the air, Cassian suspected.

"Please, sir... Fuck it, Cass! I need you, now! Lie back?"

He lay back on the bed, amused. "Climb on me, then."

Her on top did have the disadvantage he couldn't see her ass. On the other hand, he could and did grab it and claw it and squeeze, and watch her arch and groan and her little pink nipples get darker and hard. Yes, her front view was worth a view, too. Especially when she tossed her head back, eyes closed, totally out of control.

Cassian arched and groaned himself. Too soon, but he had just enough presence of mind to switch on the tiny vibe he'd palmed.

He held her down, close to him, with his left arm. He snuck his right hand to her clit, where he held the small vibrator to it.

She shuddered against his chest. And again. His cock softened but was still inside her. He didn't want to move. She groaned, shivering again. "Please. Too much..."

"Really?" He moved the vibe an inch away. "Surely too much would be..." He dug his nails into her sore ass, then wriggled his middle finger into her buttcrack until it just started to force her open. She wriggled, a happy moan, letting his finger just penetrate a tiny bit inside, then shifting to the side a bit more to try to center herself on the vibrator again. "Oh. The vibe wasn't too much?"

"More... Need more..."

"Yeah, babe. Insatiable little slut. I'll have to take you while you're wearing that plug, soon."

Heather gasped, "Yes!"

"And get you trained to be fucked in the ass. Serving me with your entire body. Yes?"

"Yes!" Heather moaned as she came, collapsing on his chest, into his arms.

Later, Cassian tapped on his phone while waiting for her to join him in bed.

"What are you looking at?"

"Uh... ways my firm could do some useful work for charity?"

"Free construction? Or more, architect services and safety?"

"Mostly the latter. I was thinking, there's lots of small theaters and spaces which want to expand or become more accessible, and it's not they can't afford the building work, but they need advice from someone who will take time to think outside the box."

"Which you could afford to do, for a low charitable rate. Not free -- free services are never appreciated. That's a really lovely idea! Make more buildings properly safe, help more people access them, be an example to the rest of the industry!"

"Exactly! You get it!"

She smirked, and hugged him. "Sure, but that wasn't what you were actually looking at, was it?"

He laughed, resigned. "You got me," he said, and showed her the screen. It was a selection of 'Anal Training Sets', each with three butt plugs of varying sizes. The external flanges varied, from small rounds with plastic jewels, to smooth rectangles of bright colours, or metal loops. Heather felt a delicious shiver in her groin, from knowing Cassian was thinking about such things. For her.

"As long as there's definitely no risk of losing them!" She'd heard horror stories about needing the ER. Even if Cass could easily pay for that. Small mercies.

"Well, in that case... those are kinda tacky, anyway. Cheerful colours? Hm. You're classier than that. Let's go traditional steel, and rope through the loops. Then I can tie it into a nice harness round your waist. Like that photo, there."

"Oh, my. Yes, sir."

"You've never worn a rope harness? Oh, you'll like it! Various knots to press against your clit, your pussy, and your hole. As the harness gets added to, it all gets tighter. And ever so good for holding things in place..." He added a couple forty-yard lengths of cotton rope to the order.

"You mentioned a collar?"

"Mm. That, I think, I'd want to buy you in person. Are you free to go shopping this Saturday?"

"Definitely!"

"Good girl. But I'm not waiting for this lot. What else do I need this week? Oh, cuffs. Lined leather buckle-up cuffs that can clip together. They'll help you keep your hands behind your back, when you suck my cock. A vibrating butt plug? That would help you adjust to a bigger size. Ooh, clothes! We'll have to do most of that in person. I can't wait to see you in a long elegant corset. Blue, maybe? Ah! Garter belt, stockings. Let's get some to go on with. And this short skirt." He clicked again. "Too cheap and flimsy for my secretary, really, but all the more reason to tear it off you. And panties! Obviously there's a place for thongs, but if you're wearing a skirt this short, then you'll need full briefs like these. They'd hide a harness, too." Cassian clicked merrily away on the website.

"Got enough for now?" Heather joked, turned on all over again.

"Oh, so many things! Hm, I'm not sure that spreader bar would be comfortable; I won't." To Heather's relief, he skipped the Gags and Hoods category. The next one down was Nipple Play.

Cassian liked that category. "Oh, yes! These ones, on a chain, look nice. 'Adjustable, for the perfect reactions from your submissive'. Ooh, we could add weights, or vibrating ones..."

"We're going shopping on Saturday," Heather reminded him, her pussy throbbing again at the thought of clamps on her nipples.

"True. All right, I'll leave it there." He clicked on a large bottle of lubricant, before the Checkout button. "And next morning delivery, definitely. What? I'm a millionaire, used to getting my whims satisfied instantly. Now I've finally found a woman who also wants to try these things, you expect me to wait?"

Heather laughed. "No, I'm happy to enjoy the extra luxury." There was no reason Heather couldn't have paid for the online shopping spree herself; she'd just have to consider it as most of that month's extra discretionary spending. "Just a bit nervous about how much my ass can take tomorrow, after tonight."

"Don't worry, my love. I have every interest in maintaining your ass in perfect condition! Is there anything you'd like me to have?"

Heather shook her head. "Not really. I love you in your expensive suits, with the ironed button-down shirts and cufflinks. An extra crisp shirt for summer, maybe? One that lets you roll up the sleeves to show off your forearms..."

"What is it with women and men's forearms? No problem. I suppose they look good for sport. Swinging... implements." He mimed, and Heather gulped. "Ah, no fear. I don't want to really hurt you. Not my kink. Just get you absolutely desperate! My lovely little slut."

They kissed, and went to sleep. Heather dreamed of fetish clubs with her fantasy man made real. A month later, Cass would take her to her first club -- the start of a wonderful hobby. The confidence she gained from all her admirers helped her in her career, too.

*

Diane went for coffee the next morning after the book reading, to ensure Brianna had recovered. And to get any more gossip.

"No smashed windows from angry Sparks fans," she observed.

"No," Brianna agreed. "I think we all came out of that rather well." She pointed behind her at Zach, busy foaming milk. "He spoke to an antiquarian book dealer earlier. Turns out there's a market for the original trilogy, and one for books with personal inscriptions by authors, not just scribbled signatures. Add Rumbold's seclusion for decades, plus the controversy as the new book is hotly anticipated, even with the quotes now circulating online..."

"Especially with, I wouldn't be surprised..."

"Anyway, Zach's set will be starring in an auction in a couple months. With a reserve of five thousand dollars!"

"Nice," Diane breathed. "Should make up for his fallen hero, as it were." She glanced to the chap in the corner, tapping away on his laptop as usual. "Excuse me. Did I hear you aright the other night? Are you... his grandson?"

The man looked up. Diane could see the resemblance, now -- the intelligent blue-grey eyes with crinkles from smiles had always been hidden under the man's focused head, the greying sweep of hair causing her to dismiss him as too old for her interest. He must actually be under forty.

"Yes, I am. For my sins, perhaps? Lansing Jackson, at your service." He caught her surprised look. "Yes, naming the kids after cities is a family tradition, and compared to others Grandpa could have pressed upon Mom -- she's called Reno, Denver's older sister -- it could have been much worse. Dad's family is actually from nearer Kalamazoo..."

She laughed, both at the story and his self-deprecating manner. "I'm not surprised you kept that dark! Thank you for coming and helping last night, though. It meant a lot to my friends."

"You're welcome."

"And you're a writer yourself?"

He nodded. "At least I don't have the surname. This is my second novel I'm working on -- I've had a few short stories and one novel published so far."

"Anything like your grandfather's material?"

"God, no! Okay, there might be a couple sex scenes in the book... but nothing like his..."

"No? Sounds good! I'll have to have a look." Something in his slightly embarrassed grin impelled her to try a line. She liked just to see if a man would pick up on it. One could tell a lot from their reaction. "I had pegged you as being more interesting than you looked," she said.

There it was. A small raise of the eyebrows. And a look of interest, rather than disgust. "Really? I suppose that's a compliment of sorts. I could say, what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander..." A level stare, back at her. He knew what he was talking about, all right.

Test passed. Diane fished out a card with her contact details. "Would you be interested in discussing this further, over dinner?"

"I would. Thank you. Tomorrow night would work? If you'll excuse me for now, though, I do need to edit the rest of this section today, or I might find myself not publishing that 'difficult second novel' after all." He messaged her quickly, so she could get in touch later.

Brianna blinked at the scene in the corner, where her most regular, and, she'd always assumed, boring, customer, was giving Diane a devilish grin along with his phone number. She was fairly certain she hadn't yet matched Diane up with anyone. That night, she checked. Diane's form was still on the pile. Under 'What are you looking for?', she had written, 'Just a normal, but open-minded, interesting man'.

"Well," Charles said, snuggling up behind Brianna. "I wouldn't be surprised if Coffee Pages Dating has a third success soon. Congratulations, my darling."

"Mm. I hope they'll all be as happy as we are. In their own different ways." She kissed him, before they indulged in their favourite sensual lovemaking.

THE END