Charlie’s client wants to remain incognito. When he finally recognizes her, he realizes she’s his most precious wish and also his most overwhelming humiliation.
Excerpts from Charlie
Angie – This was a different Charlie Vagos than the one I’d known most of my life. Still one of my older brother’s best friends, he’d been a constant feature in our house and eventually, a college roommate to my athletic sibling. At first, we’d thought they’d grow out of the relationship, but it had been Buster, a black kid with a huge family and Charlie, the poor Greek kid, raised by his grandmother. The two of them had been thick as thieves throughout their lives. My family had all substituted for the brothers and sisters Charlie never had, accepting his presence and sometimes his grandmother’s, at most large family functions. My parents never said anything, but I knew there were times when my mom bought him clothes, shoes and served as sponsor for him when sports equipment was too expensive for his grandmother to afford. The assistance was easy for my parents, so they gave it.
But the sultry looking man staring back at me looked nothing like the Charlie I used to know.
The tattoos were new for one thing. The sleeve of black tribal geometric patterns that started at the top of his left, muscular shoulder and traveled down his arm and over most of that side of his chest were new. He stood with both hands in the pockets of his loose fitting, low slung jeans, displaying his hips and muscular v-line. All that abdominal muscle was decorated by more tattoos, like darkly colored flames that flared across his lower hips, across his stomach, almost reaching his bellybutton and drawing attention to his finely chiseled abs. I wondered how far down the artwork went below his jeans.
While the tattoos were intriguing, it was the pierced nipples and the pierced eyebrow that shocked me more. They made me wonder at the changes, wonder if my brother had any idea that his old friend now sported metal ornaments on his body, on that dusky skin that made him look forever tanned. Even though it appeared as if he was looking right at me with his bright green eyes, his face was turned slightly away from the camera revealing that Roman nose of his with the high bridge and a slight hook, offset by jet-black curly hair that he wore closely cropped, and the shadow of a beard and mustache. The beard only served to emphasize his lips, the ones we used to tease him about. Girly lips, Buster called them; thick, full and so wide they seemed indecent.
I’d always thought Charlie was the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen. My sisters would tease me about the way I followed him and my brother around just so I could be near Charlie. I’d done my best to hide my attraction. As he grew older, his looks only improved and my feelings for him deepened. My brother had made it known that his sisters were off limits to any of his friends, including Charlie, but I’d always known that wasn’t why Charlie never paid attention to me. He’d simply never been interested. Looking at his sultry picture, the changes in him only served to make him more desirable.
Charlie – Beth had told me that my client had wanted to finally live out her fantasy of bondage and pain, that she’d always wanted to try it, but had never done it. I assumed, like all of my clients, that the woman wanted to be dominated, tied up, spanked, whipped, maybe spoken dirty to, called names, some hair pulling, some humiliation. Ever since that Fifty Shades book had hit the shelves, our requests for this kind of thing had exploded. Everyone wanted to experience what they’d read about.
This one wanted something else.
She no longer swayed to the music. Now, she crossed the room, all business, heading straight for a chair, her impossibly high heels clicking loudly against the wooden floor, her hips swaying with the addition of the spiked boots. She picked something up from the chair and held it up for me to see. A black latex corset. She laid it on the table and stared directly at the mirror. Then she turned her back to me and removed her bra. She picked up the corset and fit it around her waist, the corset ties already done up the back. She struggled and pulled to snap the front closures, all with her back turned to me. When she turned around, she preened, showing me her cinched tight waist, the way the corset accentuated her generous breasts, now large succulent mounds tethered in the shiny latex.
She took a couple of steps closer to the mirror then put her hands on her hips, turning right and left to admire her new look—the white, glittery Mardi Gras mask with feathers like a headdress, the black corset that showed off her breasts, so confined they looked as if they would pop out any second, her white lacy panties that were now almost translucent with dampness and her thigh-high, shiny leather boots.
She looked beautiful, sexy and dangerous. Her lips stretched slowly into a wicked smiled.
This woman didn’t want to be spanked. This woman wanted to spank me.
“Holy shit.” I looked at the heavy handcuffs in my hand and sucked in a deep breath, surprised by how much it shook as I released it. I’d never been on this end of things. I looked back at her, an amateur. I didn’t know what, if anything, she knew about the rules of bondage between willing partners. That wicked smile on her face sent my heart racing.
I wasn’t sure if I was scared shitless or completely and totally turned on.