Chapter 6

I sunk into my couch at home with a double espresso and turned on KBRK. In a few minutes, on came my Kat Freely, as I had begun to think of her, and marveled that only an hour earlier I had seen her expertly snort two lines of blow. Then she sank to her knees and sucked a second load of cum out of me before sending me packing. Her pink dress was flattering. There was not a hint of nasal congestion in her voice. Just the sparkling gleam in her eye and TV-wide grin. She was a fucking pro.

I replayed the morning in my mind. I was particularly keen on the submissive side she showed me. I wanted to own her. I wanted to push her to her limits and beyond. I did love a party girl. Fucking on coke was fun, though an indulgence I permitted myself only a handful of times a year, and this side of Kat reminded me of my last true party girl. Jess. She had been my unicorn for four years until rehab became a necessity, and she got her life together. I wanted to know more about Kat's habit. How long she had kept it hidden. I needed to watch her closely for the signs of over-indulgence. But the prospect of a goody-two-shoes local celebrity being my little coke whore had a gravitational pull.

While Kat delivered her first traffic report of the day, I picked up my phone and texted her. "Is this the day of the week that you have your butt plug in? Or were two loads of cum enough?" I said.

I finished my coffee and showered. As I gathered my briefcase for work, the text app pinged. "There is never enough cum," Kat replied.

"That didn't answer my question," I responded.

"No," she answered immediately, "it's not plug day."

"Prove it," I said. I put away my phone and went to the office. Now we would see if I could start pushing her limits and probe her desire to be controlled.

It was a short drive to my building downtown. I liked my apartment because I could live close and not piss away time on a commute. It also gave me easy access to any of the desirable areas of Houston, which made my busy social life easier. The commute was the biggest thing, though. Regularly working more than 60 hours per week was an annoyance. The money was worth it. A long commute would have chafed at me nonstop.

As I sat down at my desk, brought my monitor to life, and felt relief that my voicemail light was not blinking, my phone pinged again.

"Satisfied?" Kat had responded. Beneath was a picture of her ass, bent over and spread with one hand. The pink dress gave me confidence she had just taken it. I smiled. She made me do that a lot.

"Good girl," I wrote back. "But not satisfied."

I silenced my phone and threw myself into the work day. Before I knew it, even though it was a relatively calm day, the clock read 4 p.m.

Kat had blown up my messages. She had written back right away to mine, "But not satisfied." It was a series of a dozen messages while she was at work that day, getting progressively more enticing as they went unread. Finally, after she had gotten home, she sent a plaintive final note:

"Daddy, please, I need it." It was attached with a picture of her kneeling before the full-length mirror in her bedroom, her ass cheeks spread, and a sparkly pink princess butt plug snugly in her ass.

After that, the game was on in earnest. We had morning trysts four weekdays in a row after that, all of which followed largely the same pattern. Naked greeting. Brief making out before some preliminary head or just headlong into urgent fucking. Our encounters were so short each time, we glossed over the appetizers for the main course every time. Yet it hadn't become boring. There was such intensity and fit to the way our bodies moved together, it was as if we were parsing out the massive energy of an explosion in short, small doses. There was so much more pent up inside.

To be honest, after those first few weeks, it frustrated me. I was getting tired of thirty-minute mornings. I wouldn't have given them up, but I wanted more. And it was a rare feeling.

I had gotten in the habit of staying with her while she dressed for work. I'd make her coffee. She'd snort two lines before she left, or two when I arrived and two before she left if she'd been out later the night before. I loved watching it. It was an odd fetish but an enduring one of mine, going back to my days with Jess. I'd leave her apartment ten minutes before she did.

One morning, about a month after our affair had started, as I gave an approving look at the day's floral-patterned dress, I said, "Kat, I am really digging this... whole thing. But I want more. I want more time. I need it."

She blinked. "Okay."

"Okay?" I asked.

"Okay," she repeated. "All you had to do was ask." Her smile was wry.

I was caught off guard. Kat was savvy. I thought I was playing from the position of power, trying to increase my control over her and push her boundaries. She had me on the string the entire time. I felt like an amateur.

"How about this afternoon? Lunch and play time?" I offered.

She shook her head. "I'm going to a charity lunch at the Marriott Marquis."

If Kat had me off balance before, this set me back in my right frame of mind. "I'll get a room there. A suite overlooking the pool. Come up after lunch. Boyfriend's out of town, right?"

She smiled and nodded eagerly. I emailed my assistant and told her I was taking a mental health day. I booked a suite at the Marriott, then called the front desk to confirm early check-in. I took a nap and showered, before heading to the liquor store to pick up Champagne. It was only 10:30 a.m. by the time I finished. I shouldn't have taken the day off. I went to the gym and did cardio. I went home and showered again. It was 11:45. Close enough. I drove to the Marriott and checked in.

The suite had a great view of the pool. It was a sunny December day in Houston, hardly pool weather. I iced down the Champagne and took the elevator to the ballrooms. I wanted to scope out Kat's lunch. It looked mundane. I paced. I went back to the room and popped a bottle. A couple glasses helped calm me down tremendously. I wasn't sure why I needed to calm down, but I wasn't willing to examine why at the time. I checked work email and flipped channels.

Then the knock came. I opened the door with confidence, and Kat ducked in, stepping quickly like a teenager sneaking out somewhere. I ran my hand under her chin and kissed her, then pulled back to look her in the eyes before kissing again.

"I couldn't eat, I was so excited," she said. I realized eating hadn't even occurred to me. She walked to the suite's dining table, set down her purse, and gathered her hair behind her neck. She came to me and turned and said, "Unzip me." I obliged and admired the fabric of her thong spread as she bent over to take it off.

"Leave the heels on," I said. I pulled her to me again, ass first, and attacked her neck and ear. She pushed me away playfully.

"You don't have anything to do the rest of the day, right?" she said.

"I'm yours."

One side of her smile rose a little higher than the other. I'd learned that was a sign of mischief from Kat. "I want to party," she said. She sat down and fished a baggie of coke from her purse. "And let you use me. I want your cum in all three holes. Think you can handle it?"

I chuckled. "I'm always up for a challenge."

"Good," she said, already chopping up the blow into lines with a practiced hand. "You want some?"

"Fuck yeah," I said. "It's been a while. And don't worry. I don't get coke dick."

"Oh really," she said, never taking her eyes off her task. "I'm going to test you on that. I'm also going to show you a little secret of mine."

"We're getting past the tip of the iceberg?" I asked.

"Definitely, and we are going deep," she said and looked up, four perfect lines on the table and a look of pure lust in her eyes.

"Ladies first," I said.