Her name is not important, just that she was the first one at Girl Bar who asked me to go home with her. We don’t touch in the car, but I know it will be a short ride to her apartment. When we get inside the door, I smile and reach for her, but she steps away from me and says simply:

“Turn and face the wall.”

I regard her coolly for a moment. She holds my gaze until I slowly drop my eyes and comply.

“Take off your jacket.”

I shrug out of my blazer and fling it to one side.

“Put your arms over your head.”

I do, and hear her step towards me until she is inches away.

She puts one arm around my chest and undoes the top button of my shirt. I see her hand slip in and begin to caress my breast. I close my eyes.

After a minute, she unzips my trousers and slips her other hand into my underwear. She discovers what I already know – I’m dry.

The hand on my breast stops moving.

Do you want to be here?

I consider this. If I were not here, maybe I would be at the CAC. Or maybe I would still be at the bar, letting some other woman buy me a drink and weigh her chances of something more. But where I want to be is a place that no longer exists.

Perhaps my silence makes her impatient; perhaps what I might have said wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Suddenly her hands shift to hold my wrists against the wall.

“What if I were to keep you here regardless?”

I start and rear at this, and feel her grip around my wrists tighten as her body presses hard into my back. Her mouth is at my ear now, and she whispers:

“What if I were to remove your shirt, your pants, and expose your skin to my gaze? What if your hands were bound to the wall, and mine were all over your body, touching you wherever I wanted?”

My mouth falls open but I say nothing, and she begins to thrust slowly against me. My breathing grows uneven, and when she releases her hold on my wrists, I think she knows that I will keep my hands on the wall. Hers are good to her word, loosening my shirt and bra, pushing my trousers to my ankles. My head falls back against her as she strokes and pinches my ***** with one hand and starts up a steady rhythm against my crotch with the other. When her fingers enter me I am so wet that I barely feel it.

I shudder when I come, and for a fraction of a second as I lean heavily into her, the pleasure washes away everything else. Just for a moment.

There is no question of me staying there afterwards. She drives me back to Girl Bar so I can retrieve my car. I watch her leave, and then straighten my shirt a little before walking back into the bar.