Page 22 of Hurts So Good

John and I worked our way to the bar. I leaned my back against the padded edge.

John ordered. Gin for me, whiskey for him. Within moments, I had my drink in hand. I gripped the icy glass in my palm and tried to relax. John’s eyes kept questioning me. But I knew better than to try to answer an unspoken question.

A group of men were standing by the window talking. There was only one I recognized. Peter had been at the last party I attended. His wife had a way of bringing out the worst in me. I was thankful I had avoided her so far.

I saw rather than heard one of them motion to John. He hesitated briefly before responding.

“Behave,” John advised.

Dropping the handle of the leash to my hand, he patted it before walking away. I gulped my gin and tonic. Nerves played me. I hoped he wouldn’t be gone long. It was hard to stand alone.

I eavesdropped on the couple next to me. Their conversation centered on my collar and leash. I strained to hear them as a way of occupying my time. I could see a guy working his way over to me from the corner of my eye. It took a full five minutes for him to approach. Half turning, I set my drink down and busied myself, tapping the leash handle against my upturned palm. I avoided eye contact, but he was insistent that he get my attention. His voice was loud and invasive.

“So you’re his slut, eh?”

My back stiffened.

“Cat got your tongue?” He was clearly drunk. His voice carried. I knew if I didn’t respond he would only get louder.

“You’d have to ask John that. He normally calls me his whore.” My insolence dripped like syrup. I hoped if I mocked him, he would stop.

My impertinence was marked by his stare. But I refused to back down.

“Does that mean anyone can fuck you?”

I considered my options, then I looked across the room at John. He was deeply engrossed in conversation. I couldn’t expect him to rescue me. I was in this alone.

“I said,” I tried to keep my voice level, “you would have to ask John. It’s his decision.” Even as I spoke these words, I knew the answer. John wouldn’t share me with anyone. It was part of our original agreement. I said it because I wanted to get a rise out of this asshole.

“Really,” I continued to goad him, “you should ask him. You never know. He might just let you.”

For emphasis, I dragged my fingers through the neckline of my dress revealing most of my left breast. The edge of my nipple poked out of my bra. I slid my other hand down my side and gathered the hem into my grip. Tugging slightly, I exposed the skin above my stocking. The move accented the muscle along my thigh.

With precision, I ran my tongue over my lips and smiled seductively. His hand snaked out and landed directly on my breast. Instinct ruled. I slapped him. It was a natural reaction, and I did it without thinking.

Almost instantly, I felt John’s hand grip my upper arm. His voice was loud, blasting in my ear.

“Do you need something, Don?” He asked. “Is Jordan being difficult?”

John’s eyes cut into me, and I shook my head at him in disbelief. Surely he wasn’t going to blame me for this?

“No…John…She…I…” Don stammered like a drunken fool. “I stumbled, fell against her. She thought I was coming on to her.” He covered his tracks.

“He was talking trash.” I was quick to explain. “Really, John. Listen. He wants to know if he can fuck me. I told him to ask you.”

John laughed loudly. His grip tightened on my arm. He laughed again before answering.

“Well, if that’s the question, Donald, the answer is ‘fuck no,’ but I can understand why you would want to. Jordan is a beauty. She sucks cock well, too, but I am keeping that for myself. I’m selfish that way. You’ll just have to take my word for it. I’m sure you understand.”

He jerked me toward him and took the leash handle from my hand. His other hand pushed my dress down farther. His fingers worked into my bra, exposing my breast. With confidence, he pinched the nipple and worked it between his thumb and forefinger. I gasped as he squeezed. My panties dampened. Don’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

The assault ended as abruptly as it started. John slapped Don on the back to help him get his tongue restored to his mouth.

“Excuse me while I take care of something, Don. Forgive me for not staying to chat.”

With that said, John grabbed my leash close to the collar. He pulled me away from the bar and through an opening on the left. He kicked the door partially closed with the heel of his boot. My heart pounded.

We entered a bedroom that was doubling as a coatroom. The white bedspread was spattered with jackets and purses. I took this in, but it barely registered. John’s swift movements kept me from protesting. He sat on the bed and pulled me across his knees.

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