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Darla




It hadn't gone well, Darla thought, as she leafed through an old
magazine. She shifted position, took her shoes off, and curled her
feet up comfortably beneath her on the couch. Across the room,
Michael was still typing away. They'd been working together quite
well on the book, and then he'd had one of his sudden fits of
inspiration and had shooed her away, irritably, because he didn't
want her "looking over his shoulder." As if he hadn't looked over
mine enough, she thought. And leaned on it at the same time. I
wish we could get an office with two desks, two typewriters, and a
brick wall between them! With a sigh, she picked up another
magazine and slid farther down into the cushions that covered
Michael's couch.

She'd just begun reading a fascinating article on archaeological
discoveries at Tell-el-Amarna when Michael spoke. "Look, it's
getting late, and I have a lot of things to do in the morning. Time
for you to go home."

Darla closed her eyes for a moment. All right, she thought, if that's
the way you want it... She reached down, slipped on her shoes
again, tossed the magazine on the table and got up to go. Her
portfolio and purse and all her papers had been left on the table by
the door, and she turned that way, unwilling to look at Michael.
Sometimes, she thought, I wish you hadn't talked me into this so-
called collaboration. I wish you hadn't insisted that we both work
here at your place. I wish you hadn't...

He came into her field of vision, surprising her out of her train of
thought. He stood there in the light reflected from the desk, shirt
gone, tenuous smile on his face. If you really wanted me to leave,
she thought, why did you take off your shirt? A smile replaced the
sullen expression on her face.

"Gee, Michael, I've seen that half of you before. Why don't you
take the rest of it off?"

He looked down at himself as if to say, who, me? "Ladies first," he
said. "Or is it, you show me yours and then I'll show you mine?"
His tone of voice was light, slightly sarcastic. "I'm just getting ready
for bed here."

Hmmm, thought Darla, I bet he thinks that'll get rid of me. By all
rights, it should, but I'm tired of doing everything his way. "All
right," she said softly, and without another word, she quickly
unsnapped her jeans, unzipped them, let them drop to the floor and
stepped out of them. "Like this?"

Dead silence in the room for a moment. Then Michael said, "Now
wait a minute, put those back on. That's not what I meant, and you
know it."

"No, Michael, I don't know it. I just did as you asked. We're not
playing this game by your rules any more. You started it, and this
time you're going to have to finish it."

Surprised at her own sudden courage, she slipped out of the large,
loose overshirt she wore, and dropped that to the floor as well.
Clad only in a lightpink tank-top and matching panties, she stepped
out of her shoes and walked closer to him. He retreated. Her eyes
were fixed on his. She smiled. Moving close to him, she lightly
brushed her fingertips through the soft hair on his chest. He
gasped, and held her hand still in his own. She reached up with
her other hand, and now held his hand in a warm embrace.

"Come on, Michael," she said, pulling him in the direction of his
bedroom.

For a moment, he resisted. "No," he said, "we can't do this. Let's
stop it now before things get out of hand."

"They're already well in hand, Michael, and you come with me
now."

"No," he said.

"Yes," she said, and pulled him along by the hand. He tried to pull
away from her, but not with any real strength, and then he
followed.

She led him into the bedroom, over to the bed, then turned. "Lie
down here, Michael, and I'll help you take the rest of those clothes
off."

"I've been dressing and undressing myself for a few weeks now,
you know," he replied, sarcastically.

"All right then, you do it. I have some things to do here."

She turned and walked away from him, opening the doors to his
closet. She didn't look back at him. After a moment, soft sounds
indicated that he was undressing. She found his tie rack at the
back of the closet and looked it over. Hmm, which ones look the
softest, the most worn? Which ones will cost least for me to have
sent to the cleaners, she wondered with a smile. I'm glad he has to
wear suits to work -- this is a nice large collection. Sorting through
the colorful array, she selected four that looked a bit frayed around
the edges. Holding the ties in her hand, she folded the closet
doors shut.

Michael was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling off his socks.
He was still wearing a pair of light blue cotton bikini briefs. It was
obvious that the situation was beginning to excite him. She went to
the light-dimmer on the wall and reduced the illumination in the
room to a soft glow.

"Lie down, Michael."

"No."

She walked over to him, ties dangling from her hand, and put the
other on his shoulder. Her nipples had hardened under the thin
tank top, and she stood with legs slightly apart. She looked directly
into his eyes.

"Yes," she said.

Silently, he lay back across the bed, his feet still on the floor.

"No, Michael, lie properly on the bed for me."

He shifted position, bringing his feet up on the bed. She sat down
beside him and took his left hand in hers. She brought it up to her
mouth and traced the fingertips with her tongue. He shivered
slightly. She gently opened his hand and kissed the palm. Then,
she took one of the ties and tied it gently but firmly around his wrist.
He watched her, but made no move. Kissing his palm again, then
biting him very softly on the soft mound of flesh beneath his thumb,
she laid his hand down on the bed and tied the other end of the tie
to the bedpost. Then, she took both hands and caressed his arm,
softly, all the way down to his shoulder, past it, over his nipple and
down his side. He wiggled and gasped, but made no other sound.
She got up, taking the rest of the ties with her, and walked around
the end of the bed to the other side. His eyes followed her outline
in the dimly lit bedroom. She sat down beside him on the other
side, and traced his cheek lightly with her hand, then brushed his
hair back, allowing her fingers to slip down and circle his ear, very
gently. He turned his head to the side, trapping her hand between
his ear and his shoulder. She smiled. Picking up his right hand,
she traced the lines on the palm with a gentle finger, then her
tongue. She took each of his fingers in turn into her mouth and
sucked on them gently. She looked down at him, saw the very light
film of sweat on his chest, and smiled. Then, she tied the tie gently
around his wrist, put his hand on the bed, and tied the other end to
thebedpost. Then, again, she took both hands and caressed his
arm, all the way down, over the shoulder, onto his chest, circling
his nipple with gentle but insistent fingertips. He wriggled, pulling
against the ties, but they held him in a firm grip of their own. Her
hands continued down his chest, over his belly, making the skin
flutter, down his sides, down his right leg. Making circles with her
fingertips, she shifted her position on the bed, caressed his leg,
down to his ankle, then onto his foot. Being careful not to tickle
him, she massaged the foot. Then, she took another tie, tied it
firmly around his ankle, stood up, pulled his leg out a bit, and tied
the tie to the footboard.

Then she got up, moved back around to the other side of the bed,
and looked down at him. This time, she remained standing,
running the backs of her fingernails slowly, gently, down his leg,
beginning at the thigh, reaching the ankle in slow degrees. She
picked up his foot and quickly tied it to the bed. Her own breathing
was coming more rapidly now.

"My goodness, Michael, you didn't get completely undressed. I
wonder what we'll have to do about that?" She looked at the large
bulge under the briefs and smiled.

Darla looked at Michael on the bed for a long moment. Her eyes
were closed slightly, and her breath was coming more quickly than
before. Michael shifted on the bed, testing the strength of his
bonds, and found himself held fast. Darla watched him with a
smile. And then, suddenly, she turned and walked out of the room.

"Hey! What IS this??" Michael shouted. "Is this what you wanted?
Leave me here like this? C'mon!"

"Just be patient, Michael," came her voice from another room. "I
know that's not one of your virtues, but this time you really have no
choice. I'm not leaving."

He could hear the sounds of cabinet doors opening and closing.
He tried to pull his hands loose, but the harder he pulled, the tighter
the knot got. He was still struggling when she reappeared.

"You don't trust me much, do you, Michael? I told you I wasn't
leaving. Now quit doing that before you cut off the circulation to
your hand."

She set the pile of things she'd been carrying on the floor. Then,
deftly, she readjusted the tie on his left arm where his hand was
beginning to turn purple.

"You're going to enjoy this, I promise you, so don't fight it."

He lay back on the bed, panting, and looked at her. Even in the
dim light, her own excitement was obvious. She bent down and
picked up two large, slightly worn bath towels from the floor. Sitting
down, she laid the folded towels on the bed beside him.

"Turn away from me for a moment and let me slip this under you."

He turned as far onto his side as the bonds would allow, and she
spread the towels beneath him, smoothing them out. Her warm
hand brushed against his back, as if to smooth away the tension
there as well.

"All right, now roll back this way."

She walked around the bed, pulled the towels out beneath him and
smoothed them across the bed. There was now a layer of warm,
soft terrycloth beneath him from his neck almost to his knees.
Puzzled, he watched her as she walked back to the other side of
the bed.

She picked up a small, heavy ceramic bowl from the floor and set it
on the bedside table. And then, standing beside the bed, she
began, very slowly, to caress herself. Her hands ran, teasingly,
from her collarbone over her breasts, circling from the outside
toward the center. Her eyes were nearly closed. Her back arched
slightly and her shoulders moved from side to side as her fingers
moved inwards. She held first one nipple, then the other, and
pulled them slightly outwards against the fabric of the tank top.
Then her hands continued their slow, languourous travel, making
their way downwards. Her fingers slid inside the waistband of her
panties. Her eyes opened slightly and she watched him with a
smile as she wiggled her hips, very slightly, and slid her hands
farther under the fabric, but then, instead of continuing to the
center, she slid her hands against her sides, stepped back a bit,
and slowly, slowly pushed the panties down. As she worked the
panties down, farther and farther, she stepped back a bit more from
the bed so that he could see her. He strained against the ties as
he lifted his head to watch.

She wiggled her hips and the panties slid the rest of the way to the
floor. Quickly, she bent over and picked them up, rubbing the
fabric between her hands.

"My goodness, I wonder why these are so damp? Do you want to
feel it, Michael?" -- bringing the soft fabric up against his cheek as
he turned his head away. "No? Ah well, no loss. Now, we need to
do something about you, don't we?" And with that, she dropped
the panties to the floor.

Her hand traced a path up his left leg, caressing him, gradually
working upwards. When she reached the elastic on the leg of his
briefs, she slid two gentle fingertips underneath it, tracing the path
of the elastic across his leg, feeling the coarser hair beneath,
teasing him, coming close to where his bulge began, but never
quite touching it. He turned slightly towards her and made a soft
sound. Her fingers slid a bit farther beneath the fabric, then
withdrew. She drew the backs of her fingernails across his belly,
very gently, and watched the skin flutter and his back arch
involuntarily at her touch. Again and again, till he was writhing on
the bed.

"Stop it!" he gasped.

"All right," she said, and moved back away from the bed, walking
around to the foot of it, never taking her eyes off him. She climbed
up on the bed, to kneel between his legs. Watching him, again,
she began to caress herself, her hands following the same path,
but lingering longer on her breasts, pulling the nipples out again
and again. Then her hands moved downwards, up under the tank
top, and she drew it up and over her head and tossed it to the floor.
The soft light revealed a light film of sweat.

Then she leaned forward a bit and reached up toward where his
left hand was tied. With both hands, she caressed his arm, slowly
working her way downwards, using fingertips and fingernails in
gentle concert. She traced her way down over his collarbone, his
nipple (circling until he writhed again) and again over his belly,
making him twist under her hands. This time, she approached the
waistband of his briefs and slid her fingers beneath, sliding them
down ever so slightly, releasing him a bit. Breathing faster but still
smiling, she ran a gentle fingertip around the ridge on his cock,
only once. His back arched again and he pressed against her
hand, his body wanting more.

But her hands moved upwards to his other hand and arm, and
again, she repeated the slow downward massage. By the time she
reached his cock, he was gasping.

"Oh God, please..."

"Please what, Michael? What would you like?"

"What... oh... in your mouth, please..."

"Ah, but I can't do that while you have those on. You should have
gotten undressed, you know? What shall I do now?"

Her fingertips pushed the waistband down a bit more, teasing him
by tracing a path through his hair.

Darla knelt on the bed and considered the situation. Then, lightly,
she began to trace the outlines of Michael's cock through the fabric
of his briefs. Around, down, up, back, her hands made a path over
the light blue material, but they did not again touch bare skin. He
began to move his hips in rhythm with her fingers, wiggling
whenever she moved upwards in an attempt to pull her hands
where he wanted them to be. Her fingers moved down between
his legs, teasingly, slipping inside the elastic now and again to
caress him.

She bent closer to him, watching his reaction. Her mouth opened
slightly, she bent her head down by her hands. He moved his hips
upward, seeking her mouth. Shaking her head, then, she brushed
her hair over his stomach, lightly over the head of his cock, and
then straightened up. He flopped back on the bed in
disappointment and looked at her.

"Bitch," he said through clenched teeth.

"Yes, Michael, all that and more."

She looked down at him through hooded eyes. And then, slowly,
she put her index finger in her mouth and sucked on it, moving it in
and out of her mouth. Then two fingers. He pulled against the ties
that bound his hands. They held him fast. Angry now, he
struggled, trying to break free, but she made no move, kept sucking
her fingers and watching him. At last, exhausted, he gave up. She
took two wet fingers out of her mouth and traced them around the
head of his cock.

"Is that what you want? Is it?" No answer. "I'll give you what you
want, Michael, but you have to give me what I want, too."

Her fingers moved faster, feeling how slippery his skin had
become, spreading the fluids around in wider circles.

"Yes," he said, pressing up against her hand. "Yes."

"Good," she said.

Moving one leg over his, then the other, she slipped off the bed to
stand beside it. Her hands slipped down inside the briefs, sliding
them down. She reached around him; he arched his back to help
her pull them down.

"Now, Michael, you have to do as I tell you, or I'll leave you here
like this and go home. Understood?"

"Yes..."

Her fingers trailed down his left leg, making circles with the backs
of her fingernails. He lifted his head to watch her. She untied the
tie from the foot of the bed, and he wiggled his foot, unsure of what
she wanted him to do. She reached up to slide the briefs down to
knee level and he bent his knee, allowing her to stretch the fabric
over his knee and then down and off his leg. He put his foot flat on
the bed, knee still bent, and she ran her hand down the back of his
leg slowly, circling, still standing beside the bed, finally reaching
beneath him, probing, making him curl his leg up against his chest
to give her easier access. She pressed the leg back down again
gently, withdrew her hand, and re-tied the tie.

"Now, Michael, we both get what we want."

She reached into the ceramic bowl on the bedside table and
brought her hands back out, shiny with oil. She rubbed her hands
together, then caressed her breasts again, and again, sliding the oil
over her skin until she shone softly in the dim light. More oil, and
her hands moved downwards. More oil, and she reached to caress
him as well. Her hands moved over his chest, his shoulders, down
over his stomach. Dipping her hands into the oil again, she placed
them on his chest and climbed back up to kneel between his legs.
She moved both hands down, tracing a circle on his stomach,
moving down between his legs. Then her hands slid gently
upwards again, upwards, but this time, she shifted her position so
she was leaning close to him. The higher her hands reached, the
closer she came, until by the time her hands reached nearly to his
wrists, her nipples were brushing against him. Oiled skin against
oiled skin, she slid down, the pressure light but the contact
unbroken, until his cock was between her breasts. She shifted
from side to side, rubbing him in gentle circles. His back arched,
and she allowed him to press more firmly against her for a moment.

Then she began to slide her hands gently upwards along his skin
again, raised herself up a bit. Panting, he looked at her, trying to
guess what she would do next. She smiled. Then she sat up,
straddling his legs, and wiggled her hips until he could feel her,
warm, wet, soft cunt brushing against him. She reached down to
hold his cock against her and began moving her hips slowly,
rocking back and forth. He pushed up against her, moving in
rhythm, hoping that soon, she would slide him inside her, pulling
against the ties on his arms as he kept pace with her motions.

As his breathing began coming in ragged gasps, she realized how
very aroused he was, and stopped her motion.

"No, Michael, not yet. I'm not ready yet. Wait for me."

She sat back a little bit, settling down against his thighs, and began
to caress her breasts with both hands. Her fingers made rapid
circles on the lightly oiled skin, moving inwards to the nipples,
pulling them out, rolling them between her fingers, releasing them,
circling outwards again. Soon, one hand moved down her
stomach, circling, brushing through her short, curly pubic hair,
sliding in between her lips. In the darkened room, tied on the bed
as he was, Michael could not really see her hand, but he could tell
by the motion of her body that she was moving it faster, sliding it
down between the lips, caressing herself as far back as she could
reach. She moaned softly and brought the hand forward again,
teasing herself, circling, never quite touching the center of her
desire.

He watched as her hands moved in rhythm, one up, one down, and
she began to rock back and forth, panting, making small soft

sounds of desire.

Suddenly, she wrapped both arms around herself.

"Michael, are you ready?"

"Yes," he whispered.

"Yes," she echoed, and moved forward a bit.

She reached to caress his cock with both hands, feeling how wet it
was, sliding her fingers over it to spread the lubrication around, the
wetness from her hands adding to his. And then she rose on her
knees, moved forward, holding him with both hands, and slowly,
slowly, brought him into position and settled down against him just
a bit. He slid inside her, just a little, the slick warm skin sliding
easily. They both gasped as he slid inside.

She kept her hands in place as she settled farther down, slowly,
slowly allowing him to slide farther inside. He pushed up against
her, but she was tight with desire and he could not make himself
slide in any faster. Deeper and deeper, until finally, he was all the
way inside her. She stopped for a moment, and he could feel her
muscles tighten against him still more.

And then she began to move. Slowly at first, she began to rock her
hips, sitting up but leaning slightly forward, rising up so that he slid
almost all the way out, sliding him back within her again. The
lubrication increased and they moved faster against each other.
Her hands went back to her breasts, pulling the nipples out in
rhythm with her hips. Faster and faster she rocked, up and down,
back and forth, her hands in constant motion. She seemed to want
to draw him deeper and deeper inside her. And then her breathing
changed... the rhythm changed... he could feel the ripples inside
her as her climax rocked her again and again. It was too much for
him. He pushed up against her, again and again, making her move
with him, faster and faster. She went with him, willingly, reaching
down to hold him against her as his body twisted in climax as well.

And then, she relaxed against him, nestling against his chest,
straightening her legs out so that she lay on top of him. They were
panting, making soft sounds. He was still inside her, but growing
softer, sliding out. She chuckled, and tightened up all her muscles,
trying to squeeze him farther out. He pushed up against her, but
weakly, and finally slid out, feeling the wetness between them.

"Did you get what you wanted?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, and reached up to untie his hand.





End of Story