Skinning the Cat

When he came in I stood up. He walked over and took his seat. I was his pupil. He was my teacher. I wrote down every suggestion. I smiled at every positive comment. I tried to look apologetic at every criticism. All the while I carefully twisted this way and that. I was posing, and I think he knew it. I think he felt flattered. He sat and talked about my lesson for nearly twenty minutes while I crossed and uncrossed my legs, and then my second miracle happened."

He changed the subject. He told me where he went to college and a little about the education programs there, and what his qualifications were."

Then I told him where I went to school. I found out he had a friend who went where I went. Gosh we spent nearly ten minutes just talking about college. He even mentioned his former wife! He mentioned he was divorced! I didn't push that though, but I did sort of nonchalantly, unconsciously touch the third button of my blouse. I sat stiffly with my knees close together and pushed the hem of my skirt down.

The last thing he said was that he'd be back in a few days to see if I'd followed up on any of his suggestions. I was in heaven! A second observation meant there would be a second after school conference!"

Another new thing started to happen after the conference. I had a specific time I was to eat lunch. I always ate in the teachers' room in the cafeteria. Mr. Westcott could choose the time and place he could eat. Up until then I never saw him. Then a couple days after our afternoon meeting he appeared in the teacher's room at my scheduled time. I saw him. He saw me. I smiled, stood up, and pulled out a chair. He was obligated to accept. Suddenly it looked like I had a school time lunch date! And I did.

I wasn't stupid I had to plan what we'd talk about. Of course I knew the one thing all men liked to talk about-themselves.

Every day we met in the lunchroom. I packed my own lunch. Every night I made something I thought he'd like. I baked brownies. I baked a cherry pie, a bunch of sugar cookies. I even made up some homemade cupcakes!

At first we talked about school; others joined in, but gradually the others got bored when we shifted to what he liked. We talked about NASCAR and football and, ugh, fishing! I tried to find out as much as I could about those things. I checked out books. I asked around. While we talked I tried to act excited. Every chance I got I'd touch his hand or his arm. He liked it. I could tell.

Well the lunchtime thing kept on all through October. I still had discipline problems, and he still made regular visits, and we still had after-school conferences, but the conferences slowly changed. The days got shorter and the weather turned cooler. Even then the schools were energy conscious so they turned the heat way back after school closed. My classroom was too cool so we shifted our meetings to a little tavern that was only a couple blocks away. It was a quiet little place called the Red Hen.

I'll say this; it was slow going, but then one night we had a major paradigm shift. We were walking out to our cars. He drove a Pontiac, and I drove a very old late model Ford Falcon. My car wouldn't start, and I didn't have Triple A. It didn't matter. He called a station and they agreed to come out, but it would be a while. It was cold so we sat in his car. It was big, and it had a bench seat. I wasn't really all that uncomfortable, but I pretended to shiver. The next thing I knew I was right beside him. He had his arm around me. We sat and pretended to talk. He wanted to kiss me. I knew he did. I wanted him to kiss me, but it was a different time; he had to make the first move. He didn't so I laid my head on his shoulder and we talked about all the places I'd like to see. He talked about all the places he'd been. I was appropriately impressed.

Then it happened. He leaned down and he kissed me. He kissed me right on my left cheek. I knew then. I knew right then and there I was gaining yardage.

The tow truck came, and they fixed my car. The battery wasn't connected properly. I drove home that night knowing it was just a question of days before he'd ask me out, and he did.

He asked me to go to the movies with him. We saw a Julie Christie movie. She was young then. Later she played Brad Pitt's mother in 'The Trojan War'. I don't remember the movie, but I remember getting a pack of Raisinettes. He got a bag of popcorn. Nothing happened that night; in fact nothing happened until it was near Thanksgiving. We'd been out four times; then things turned dark."

"I said Dark."

Dillon, I was calling him Dillon when we weren't at school. He told me he wanted to take me to DC. He wanted to take me to a nice restaurant, get a really good meal, and then go hear the symphony. I of course agreed. Then he went dark. He said he wanted to buy me something to wear. I thought he meant maybe a necklace or a scarf, but he wanted to buy me a dress! Any normal woman would have been offended, 'Whoa, as in you don't like my clothes?' Not me, I was in too deep.

I got the package and I opened it. Inside was a pretty 'empire style dress, kind of low cut and a mini. There was a pair of matching high heels, a pair of black panties and that was all. I figured he'd either forgotten about things like a bra and pantyhose or he assumed I had that stuff.

What happened next was really scary. He got to my door. I lived in an apartment building. He rang and I opened the door. He seemed surprised but didn't say anything. We went to a great restaurant called the Embers. It's gone now, and got a table on the side. As soon as we sat down he said to me, 'Did I send you a bra and those hose?'

I told him, "No I just..."

He sat back and in a real firm, almost threatening voice he said, "Well take them off."

I said, "What?"

He said, "Take them off."

I was surprised. He was scaring me. It didn't matter. I had to do it. I got up to go to the bathroom to take the things off, but he grabbed my arm and said, "No take them off right here." Years later Hollywood made a movie where something like this happened.

That really scared me. I said, "Here? At the table?"

He said, "Yes."

I said, "I can't do that."

Then he looked around, found our waiter and signaled for him to come over.

I asked him, "What are you doing?"

He said, "If you aren't going to listen, then the date's over."

I was plum terrified! I never expected anything like that. I mean he'd always been so thoughtful. I realized this was some kind of test; a test I knew I needed to pass. By then I was head over heels in love. I'd been maneuvering for two months, but I knew I was the one in the corner. So I told him. I said, "OK. I'll do it."

By then the waiter had arrived. Dillon looked at him and said, "Can you bring us a doggy bag?"

The waiter said now or after you eat?"

Dillon said, "No now please."

The waiter looked confused, but nodded his head and left to get a bag. Dillon looked at me and said, "Well?"

The dress had three quarter length sleeves, and the bra was hooked in the back so it was really hard getting it undone and then pulling it down first through one sleeve and then the other. My breasts started slipping around inside the dress top. I was a little afraid one might fall out. I know I was creating quite a little scene. Dillon seemed unperturbed. In fact he was enjoying it. People at some of the tables were watching but trying not to show it. I got the bra out; it was a white one with lace. Then I had to first pull my panties down, and then, right there in the restaurant I had to pull down the pantyhose. It was unnerving. I had to twist and turn to get the hose down. I was really upset, but excited a little too. For a few seconds my bare butt was on the chair, and it was cold. I got my panties back up as fast as I could. Thankfully they were a 'tap' cut, more like knickers actually.

Then what happened nearly led me to leave. Dillon told me to neatly fold the pantyhose and the bra and set them on my unfolded napkin. The waiter came over with the bag. Dillon told me to put the bra and pantyhose in the bag and take it across the restaurant and throw it in a small trash container that was by the hostesses stand. I had to get up and walk all the way across the restaurant and throw away my clothes. I had to do it right there in front of everybody. Without the pantyhose my legs felt the draft of the cool restaurant air, and my boobs kept undulating back and forth as I walked. I felt sort of naked and exposed. It was terribly embarrassing. I knew I was blushing. A lot of people were watching. Honestly, it was humiliating.

After that Dillon was a perfect gentleman. We ordered dinner. I got chicken livers. He got a steak. We ate. He left a large gratuity, and then we took the shuttle bus to the concert hall. We had good seats. He was incredibly polite, but I felt really almost naked all night. Without the nylons and the bra I felt terribly self-conscious; I felt like people were watching me all night. I knew they weren't; it just seemed like it. I think that's what he wanted to happen.

After the concert we took the shuttle back to where he'd parked his car. I expected he'd take me home. Maybe I'd get a good night kiss, but no it didn't happen that way. As he helped me in his car he said, "I'm taking you back to my place."

A normal person would have declined, but this hadn't been a normal date, and I hadn't been behaving normally. He had me; I realized it was going to be all or nothing at all, total victory or utter annihilation. I taught French. This was my fantasy. I was Vercingetorix and he was Caesar. I was 'Roland' about to face the Moorish hordes! I was Saint Joan! I was Napoleon back from Elba! I nodded my head and murmured, "I'd like that,"

I shivered as he pulled out of the lot. Maybe I'd go down in flames; but I wouldn't turn tail. Maybe, just maybe this was my Marne, my miracle! Oh God let this be my night!

He smiled, got in and started his car, and then he took me to his home. He took me to his apartment. He knew too; because of what happened at the restaurant he had me.

We took an elevator up several floors. He helped me out, unlocked his apartment and helped me inside. Then he walked me into his living room. It was really big and well furnished. He stood in front of me. He wrapped his arms me, pulled me close and kissed me. His lips were hot. I felt his thing press against me. I'd never had that experience before; his thing was really big.

He kept kissing me. Then he slowly unzipped the back of my dress. It started to fall away. He used his hands to let it slide down my arms. He kept kissing my hair and ears, and then my face. He lowered his mouth and used his lips and tongue to caress my neck. I'd say it was more like a nuzzle than a kiss. None of that had never been done to me before and I had all these incredible shivers go up and down my back and all around my shoulders and my face. I couldn't say why, but I felt really brave!

Then no sooner than he'd started; he stopped. He stepped away and looked at me. All I had on were my shoes and the panties. My panties felt like they were wet so I looked down and it looked like I'd peed myself, but I knew it wasn't pee. I'd masturbated a few times, and I knew what it was. He did too.

He just stood there and stared at me. It was like I was some piece of sculpture. I was blushing; my face and the top of my chest turned bright red. He saw it and smiled.

I don't know how I really felt. This was the most exciting moment of my life. Here I was almost completely naked standing in front of a man I'd only known a few weeks. He had me. He could've done anything he wanted. I was helpless. I couldn't have stopped him if he took out a knife and started to cut me up like some man had done to that woman they called the 'Black Dahlia' years before.

I had no idea what would happen next, but it was like I was outside my own body. I was afraid, but excited too. I wanted him to make love to me, but I had no idea, other than what I'd read in books and magazines, just what making love meant. It was Friday night. Nobody knew where I was. He could keep me there all weekend if he wanted to.

That's what he did.

While I stood there in his living room with nothing on but the panties and shoes Dillon disappeared into a back room, but he wasn't gone long. He came back dressed only in a Tee shirt and a pair of boxers. He held a long scarf in his hand; a long black silk scarf.

He looked me in the eye and said, "Hold up your hands," It was kind of a 'matter of fact' type of statement, kind of like, 'what time is it', what's the weather like', how about me beating you within an inch of your life.'

I held out my hands.

He took them in his. He turned them over looking at my palms and then my wrists. He said, "I'm going to tie your hands together. It'll be tight but not so tight as to hurt you. Then I'm...well then we'll...you'll see."

I shivered. I don't know if it was fear or excitement. I asked him, "You won't hurt me will you?"

He smiled. It was a cat-like smile; he was the cat, I was the mouse. He spoke in an almost whispered tone, "Yes I'll be hurting you."

No explanation, no calm reassurance, just a simple 'yes I'm going to hurt you. I kept my hands out.

He walked over and looped one end of the scarf around my left wrist. He proceeded to tie it off. The tie was tight but it didn't hurt. I knew it was too tight for me to pull free from, but it wasn't so tight that it cut off circulation or anything. Next he took the scarf and, leaving maybe a three inch separation he tied my left wrist up. Now my hands were held together at one end of the scarf by the wrists while he held the other end. There was maybe three feet of scarf between my captured hands and the end he was holding. He pulled me up close toward him. He leaned down, and wrapped his arms around me again. This time when his hands went around me my hands were pulled in close to my stomach. He stepped into me, he nuzzled my neck and smelled behind my right ear. Then he took his hand and undid the tight scrunchy that held my ponytail in place. My hair cascaded down around my shoulders. He whispered, "You smell nice."

After what seemed like an eternity but was really only a few seconds he stepped back. Using the scarf he pulled me forward. Hands tightly bound, my arms pulled forward. He turned and slowly led me toward what I presumed was a bedroom. It was.

We got to the bedroom where I saw a king-sized bed; the covers had been pulled down. It had a large wooden headboard, and what looked like a big 'O' ring was held in place by a bolt that seemed to dangle from the top of the center. He whispered, "Climb on the bed."

I climbed on.

He quickly twisted my feet so that I fell on my back. In a second he was at the top of the bed. He took the scarf, looped it through the 'O' ring and tied it off. Then he stepped back. I was left lying on my back with my hands held above my head by the scarf. He climbed on beside me.

I turned my head toward him and whispered, "You know I love you. Promise you won't hurt me."

He smiled softly, "I know you do. Now be quiet."

For the next I don't know how long he used his hands to rub over my entire body; feel my breasts, my face, around my neck, and my stomach. He started to fondle me. He took his fingers and tickled the top of my abdomen. He leaned down and kissed my navel. It felt so creepy and exhilarating all at the same time. He kept kissing my breasts, especially my nipples. They got hard and stuck out; it was like they were reaching for his mouth and his tongue. My body felt warm, feverish even. Everything felt all hot and dry; that was everything except between my legs. I knew my crotch was wet; I felt uncomfortable, but good uncomfortable. I admit I've played with myself; I've masturbated. It felt like it did when I rubbed myself down there, but so far he hadn't touched me yet. My panties were even still on!

He must have been reading my mind because he knelt back and slowly started to pull my panties down. Once he got them to the lower part of my thighs he said, "My, my; what have we here? You're a hot little thing aren't you?"

I squirmed. I pleaded, "No please. I'm still a virgin."

Dillon placed the palm of his right hand on the flat of my stomach just above my Mons, "Not for long," he said.

I really started to squirm then. I tried to kick out with my legs. I tried to twist and turn. The dryness was gone; I was wet with sweat all over. I could've yelled, but if I did he might've stopped and I really didn't want him to stop.

He commanded, "Lie still and it won't hurt so much."

I glared at him. I didn't want this to happen, not this way. I had a fantasy. I'd be in a big bed, in a long white negligee. The man beside me would whisper sweet things. He'd caress my cheeks. He'd tell me how much he loved me. He'd be my husband! I cried out. Well it wasn't exactly a cry out, more a whispered cry out, "Please if you love me you won't..."

He reached up and covered my mouth with his left hand, "But I don't love you. I admit I'm fond of you, quite fond of you in fact, but love? What would make you think I loved you? Because I took you to the movies a few times? Because I bought you a dinner? Because I helped you prepare a few lessons? Come now Elizabeth you know who you are. You know what you look like. You're just a plain little girl; just a very plain Jane. Who could love you? I mean really?"

He broke my heart. I broke down. I started to cry.

He took his hand and fingers. He held my mouth between his index finger and his thumb, "Just because I don't love you doesn't mean I don't care. I do like you. You're very sweet. I may not love you, but I fully intend to make love to you...now stop crying and just shut up."

And just like that I stopped crying.

He crawled up beside me on the bed, got close to my ear, and murmured, "I want you to pretend; pretend you've been spirited away to a distant land. You are being held captive by a powerful prince who intends to keep you his prisoner. He's going to make you his slave. You'll be forced to do his bidding for the rest of your days. You'll clean his clothes, scrub his back, prepare his meals, have his children, and you'll grow old, you'll get grey hair, you'll grow tired and wrinkled, and you'll never see the light of freedom again. Yes, this prince fully intends to keep you locked away in a remote castle tower for a long time, until..."

I wondered what the 'until' was supposed to mean. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend. I tried to pretend everything he said. All night long he made love to me. I'll never forget it.

All night I think he did everything he said he would; he made mad passionate love to me. I never felt that way ever before or since.

I can't describe it. He lay beside me, kissing me, whispering to me, telling me how beautiful I was. I know it was a lie but I didn't care. The things he said had always been part of my childhood fantasies, a part of my teenage dreams. Dillon was like a drug; he was my dream person, my prince charming, so what if it wasn't real.

He breathed his hot breath on my neck and against my hair, he kissed along the nape of my neck. Chills went up and down my spine. He took his hand and at first softly but slowly with more strength began to massage my stomach just above my Mons. He found my clitoris with his fingertips. I knew he found it because I'd touched before when I masturbated, but his fingers were different, they were, if anyone could believe it, harder but softer too. He pressed down on my vaginal hump. With the palm of his hand on my Mons he caressed my clitoris with his thumb. He drove me half wild.

He titillated my labia. I knew I had a G-spot. He found it just inside my moist walls. In and out he went with his fingers. Up and down he pressed first the top then the bottom of my vagina. It was embarrassing; more embarrassing than the restaurant. I felt like I was peeing. How could he control my body so easily?