Her apartment was cool and dim in the afternoon of a long Los Angles day.
The door was open and he slipped inside without knocking. She was there,
vulnerable and alone, and she was all his now. Already pulling off his tie,
he moved through the living room, found her in the kitchen. She was chatting
on the phone, the receiver tucked up on her shoulder while she washed
dishes. Perfect.

The phone fell to the counter when she felt him push against her, one
large hand slapping over her mouth, his left arm around her waist and
dragging her away from the sink. He threw her roughly onto the small
kitchen table, onto her back, he wanted to see the way her eyes widened
with fear. And they did, he deliberately unbuckled his belt and she
started pleading, begging, "don't, please, please, don't do this." It
was music. It was cheering crowds and love talk and approval ratings
as he unzipped his pants, dragged her squirming body to the edge of the
table and ripped off her panties. One hand held her open for him, the
other guided him into manhood, into paradise and power. Into the confident
man he had once been, while she struggled against him. He held her down
with sheer masculine force, reveling in her weakness, snaking a hand into
her hair and pulling her head back so he could savage her throat with his
mouth.

There was never any doubt that he would complete his act of violence,
ecstacy surged through him as he moved on her, murmuring obscene
endearments in her ear. He was hard and strong and he finished with a
great shout, slumping over her soft, finally yielding body for a long instant.
Then small hands were on his shoulders, urging him up, pushing him back
and the familiar lassitude descended back on him. His carefully constructed
power base crumbling as he moved back, though his face hid it, his
confidence shrinking with his erection as he ran a hand through her hair
again, then offered her a tissue filled bag. He straightened his clothing
while she opened it, exclaiming over the fine alligator wallet inside. But
his voice was still strong when he told her to open it, to use the gift
certificate to one of the best salons in LA.

"I want this dark again." He flicked her hair one more time and turned
to leave.

"Don't bet on it."

There it was. The independence that drew him back to these contrived
sessions. The carefully unlocked door, the arranged kitchen scenario.
His lust, his need to break her, to conquer her, surged up and he knew
he'd be back soon.

End