Poison

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

“Oh,” he apologized,” that was terribly clumsy of me. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s alright,” Lindsey was quick to relieve him of any guilt.

But he was prepared and pounced immediately. “It’s okay?” he asked. “You mean you liked it...”

Lindsey struggled for an answer. “It happens sometimes,” she tried.

“But you liked it?” He pressed her for an answer.

Lindsey didn’t know how to respond. She felt overwhelmed. Her thinking was clouded, like there was cotton between her ears. “Yes,” she finally conceded, not knowing what else to say. Trying hard not to offend him.

“My, that’s so wonderful,” he murmured, spinning out his lines. “You’re such a lovely girl. And so mature.”

Lindsey almost choked when his hand came back up. He cradled her left breast and ran his thumb along the fullness until he found the rising n****e. “If you like it... then...”

“Thank you,” was all she could think to say, feeling inadequate and totally lost; far outside her element and her range of experience.

“Your n*****s are so long. You never wear a bra?”

“Sometimes. A sports bra; for running or playing tennis.”

“It’s a wonderful look, on a girl with an athletic build. Like yours.”

“Thank you.”

They were still sitting in the darkness, her face still in the yoke. The position forced her to sit tall with her back arched. He had her just where he wanted. Lindsey heard the wheels of the stool as he pulled around to position himself beside her.

“Doctor Stone...” It was a plaintive cry.

“Hush, child. Just relax now. I’m not going to hurt you.” And his hand moved across to the buttons on her blouse.

“No...”

“Hush...”

His fingers trailed down along the seam, pausing to twist at each button as he went. With her blouse draped open, he reached in. His hands were cool and dry on her skin. She whimpered when he found the n****e and manipulated it between thumb and forefinger. Despite herself, Lindsey couldn’t overcome the feeling, tugging at her uterus, and she began to quiver uncontrollably when he pushed the fabric of her blouse from her shoulders, sliding it down, over her back and arms.

She was practically stripped to the waist and was thankful for the darkness. “Doctor Stone?” She asked, respectfully, trying to make sense of it all.

Why would a man want a young girl like me? But then his lips closed on her n****e, sucking it in to where his teeth could nibble and she knew there was no explainable reason. He was using her and she found herself gladly surrendering to it.

Young Lindsey sat in the stillness of the darkened room; listened to the mouth-noises as he suckled. What was coming next? She couldn’t get her mind around it; couldn’t even begin to speculate; she just surrendered herself up to him.

The end came abruptly, with a sharp rap at the door. “Doctor Stone? You’re wanted in reception.”

He bolted upright. “I’ll be right out!” he shouted after the receding footsteps. He hit the light switch and got himself a nice look. Her n*****s glistened. Lindsey squealed, rushing to cover her naked breasts. Stone licked his lips and, watching her struggle her blouse back into place, he made a decision: she was worth the risk.

He pushed up from the stool. “Maybe we could go out, sometime?” he offered. “I’d love to take you to dinner; get caught up.”

“I guess we could do that,” Lindsey replied, ruefully, doing up buttons.

It wasn’t ‘till Lindsey got home that she realized the full extent of what had happened to her. She had let an older man bully his way into her clothing. And now, she realized, she had quite enjoyed it.

Lindsey was pretty sure he wouldn’t call. It had been a subversive moment. She had been an interesting diversion during a busy workday. It was humiliating, sure, but in the cold light of day, the guy would surely be terribly embarrassed. She would be the last person on earth, he would want to see. Lindsey had underestimated the allure of her breasts.

He drove a Lamborghini Adventura. It was the closest thing to a race-car that they would allow on the highways.

Doctor Stone had admitted to not being able to get the vision of her out of his head. He confessed that when he turned on the examination room lights, he had reeled at the sight of the two ruddy-brown pepper-sprouts; called them both friendly and coy.

It had taken him a week to screw up his courage, but he finally phoned. She couldn’t believe he called and was thrilled by the sound of his voice. He asked her to dinner.

Against her better judgment, she said “yes,” ...but she didn’t want her mother to know. He hastily agreed and they arranged a rendezvous at a nearby shopping mall. That was the first time she had seen his car.

She had dressed in the cutest thing she owned: a blood-red cocktail dress, the shimmering silk ending a dashing eight-inches above the knee. With a daring neckline that dropped dangerously between her breasts and, without a bra, her n*****s stood in proud relief. She levered on scarlet four-inch spikes; she looked hot. Maybe a little too hot for her own good! She slipped bikini briefs up her thighs. Having shaved extra close, and then slicking her legs down with baby oil, she didn’t bother with pantyhose.

Lindsey had just got herself parked at the Dixie Mall when the Lamborghini pulled in beside her. It seemed too long for the space. She was impressed to see the passenger door lift skyward, revealing a dark leather interior. Doctor Stone motioned to her. She slipped out of her mother’s Mazda and locked the door. It was then she realized just how low the Lamborghini was; close to the ground, but with a rather high door sill. It was going to be like climbing into her bathtub. She considered her shorty dress and realized, with a pang of dread, she couldn’t manage the maneuver into his car without flashing her underpants. And what’s more, she had an audience.

Three young guys, attracted by the car, had moved in close. Now, attracted by her dilemma, they moved in even closer, jockeying for position. She had no damned choice. There was only one way into his car and that was through the passenger door. She turned and sat on the door sill. Trying to keep her knees together, she lifted her legs. The boys gawked; one smirked and there was a low whistle. Lindsey felt the color rise in her cheeks. She knew they could see right up her bum. She swiveled quickly and pushed off with her hands. Lindsey dropped into the seat with a bounce. There was the soft hum of hydraulics and the winged door dropped into place.

“Hi,” she said.

It was a real restaurant. Not some fast-food emporium where you had to line up while your date tried to impress you with small talk on “two-for-one” night. There was a maitre d’ who greeted Doctor Stone by name. There were cocktails served in crystal, chilled wine, soft candle light and a succulent beef dinner. “Chateaubriand” he had called it. Soft music filled the air; a woman playing the harp accompanied by a man on a grand piano. And at the end of the evening, Doctor Stone paid by credit card; left a gratuity.

They huddled close over dinner and Lindsey opened up to him. He listened carefully, asked the right questions. It might have been the martini and wine, but Lindsey nattered away easily. She caught him up to date; her life at home, her graduation from high-school and her interest in journalism. She talked about university, the struggle to remain at the head of her class and her goal to win a Pulitzer Prize by the time she turned thirty. She entertained him with the disastrous history of her love life; the list was short and unimpressive. By the end of the evening, she had even told him how she had lost her virginity; what a disappointing experience it had been. She was surprised at how it all spilled out, so easily.

He had laughed, genially. “Most people expect a symphony,” he explained about virginity, “but end up with a garage band!” He was good at saying just the right thing. Later, parked beside her mother’s Mazda, he had leaned over and placed his mouth on hers. It was unhurried; non-threatening. And he asked her if she would like to go to the theater...

“What movie?” she asked innocently.

His eyebrows rose in surprise. “Ben Hepner,” he said. He’s singing “Tristan und Isolde” ...opera,” he said.

“Opera,” she repeated, and thought about her meager wardrobe.

Back in her mother’s car, she found a matchbook cover and wrote down “Tristin and Isolde.” She was determined to learn more.

In the town library, the next day, Lindsey explained that she was going to the opera the following weekend, Ben Hepner, and wanted to learn all about it. The librarian was thrilled and brought out a book outlining the opera that included the lyrics, in German, with an English translation. She provided Lindsey with a synopsis, several old playbills, an audio tape, and even a bio on Hepner. By the time Saturday rolled around, Lindsey knew when to clap, when not to clap, and was one of the first to jump to her feet at the end and shout “Bravo!” at the top of her lungs. She loved it!

Once again, the evening ended with a warm kiss, nothing more, except a promise of dinner at a supper-club he knew, where they boasted a fine jazz quartet.

The supper-club was a slice of old Louisiana. They sat side by side on a bolster behind a round table draped in a checkered cloth. She sipped a mint julep and he drank draft. Between sets, they ate catfish nuggets and she talked about her week of classes.

The evening was laid back and Lindsey was happy to be in designer jeans, though she had dressed-up in a frilly blouse and heels. When he cracked some silly joke, she laughed gaily and, reaching under the table, had squeezed his leg. She turned to him, expecting a kiss and her hand slipped higher. Unexpectedly, her fingers came to rest on the head of his p***s. He wasn’t wearing underwear. The protruding member ran down, along the inside of his thigh, and was as hard as an iron bolt.

Lindsey gaped and hurried to pull away, but he had already placed a hand on her arm. She blushed and turned back to the stage where the musicians were just getting seated. As they started into the first tune of the set, Lindsey stroked his p***s for him.

Lindsey had been in a couple of “intense” relationships, so she knew what to do, sort of. Under the soft cotton of his slacks, the size and shape of him was revealed. She traced fingertips about the tip, following the line of the ridge that marked the point where the head joined the circumference of the shaft. She moved higher, gripped him firmly and slowly massaged him. Then she reached down and cupped his testicles; bobbled them in her fingers. She didn’t dare look into his face; just kept caressing. But it was so mechanical. And it left her feeling terribly inadequate.

Dr. Stone was so sophisticated and Lindsey was sure he was comparing her fumbling fingers to the seductive love-rituals of much older, talented women. He might even be laughing at her; or worse, feeling sorry for her. She was dismal. And was relieved at the end of the song when she was beholden to lift her hand free, so she could applaud the performers. She vowed that, in the future, if he gave her a second chance, she would do whatever was necessary, anything at all, to please him. She finished him off with a light squeeze.

Doctor Stone made no attempt to reciprocate; went back to sipping his beer and enjoying the entertainment. By the time they returned to the Dixie Mall to retrieve Lindsey’s car, though, he was already talking about a dinner party he was hosting. He wanted to introduce her to some of his friends. Just two other couples,” he said. “at my apartment. You’ll enjoy yourself, I promise.” But Lindsey detected a sense of excitement about him, a tendency he had never displayed before. And he was quite insistent that she should attend. Lindsey wondered if it was his way of getting her close to a bedroom. But subterfuge didn’t seem his style. “Wear your red dress,” he said.

He had contrived to possess her innocent beauty; for himself and his friends. He had worked his way through each step of his conspiracy with deliberate intent; like a mathematician working his way through a complicated equation. He had used deceit and deception. And the bait was well placed. When he had her at her most vulnerable, he pounced...