A Bestiary of Unnatural Women (4 page)

“Which department?”

“Psychology.”

“Is this some kind of experiment?”

“Life is just one damned experiment after
another. But if you are asking if you have been a subject in an
official scholarly study, the answer is, 'Of course not.' The
ethics violations alone would be staggering. Not only could I not
get it published, but I'd risk my entire academic career if I tried
to submit a report. No, this is just a game I decided to play. It
was a one-off experience. I've never offered to have sex with
strangers before and will probably never do it again. I didn’t come
up with this game out of thin air, though. I began with the
hypothesis that a woman would find a man more attractive if he was
successful in competition against other men. I proved that
hypothesis to my satisfaction. I can hardly wait to fuck you.”

“Me, too, but we’ve got a few minute left
before I can unchain you so why don’t you tell me why I got the
impression at that meeting that you worked for Barton
Kinematics?”

“I don't even know who they are. I just
walked through the engineering department and noticed your meeting.
Everyone looked like they were strangers because they were all
introducing themselves, so I went in and sat in the nearest open
chair. It happened to be between those two guys so everyone else
thought that I was with them.” She giggled. “It was no big deal.
What was the worst that you could do? Politely ask me to leave.
That wouldn’t have been all that traumatic.”

“Hmm.” Roy paused for a minute to digest that
little chestnut. Then he said, “One other thing, I noticed that you
have a different address on your driver's license. Your real
apartment is a lot closer to the university than this one.”

She shuffled her feet a little, trying to get
more comfortable in her heels. “Yeah, well, I'm sure you understand
why I borrowed this one. I didn't exactly know you guys so I wasn't
keen on you all knowing where I really live. This is my
officemate's apartment. She's at a conference in Alaska and won't
be back until tomorrow evening. I've got to get the place cleaned
up before then.”

“I can understa–”

The clock on the mantle began dinging loudly
and repeatedly, cutting Roy off in mid-sentence.

“That's it!” Barbara shouted over the
dinging. “You've officially won the key to my most intimate parts.
You'll find it taped to the bottom of the clock.”

Roy looked at her for a minute, then said,
“So if I just walk out of here without unlocking you, then you'll
have to stay like this until your colleague comes back tomorrow
night.”

She stared hard at him for a moment. “You
wouldn't do that to me. I've held up my part of our bargain and I
trust you to do the same. Now you owe me an evening of wild,
passionate sex. That was the deal.” She rattled her chain
impatiently, giving Roy the impression that she was anxious to get
the cuffs and chastity belt removed so that she could make wild
love to him for the rest of the night.

“You're right. I'll play fair with you, too.”
He reached out and stroked her tits for a minute. “You feel great.”
Then he hugged her and gave her a kiss. He expected it to be a slow
gentle meeting of the lips, but she was fierce in returning it with
as much passion as he had ever received. She leaned forward to
press the length of her body hard against him. If her hands had not
been locked over her head, she would have tried to squeeze him
breathless.

He hugged and kissed and caressed her for a
couple more minutes before he moved his hand to her chest to get
the padlock key.

As soon as he unlocked her, she proved that
she was telling the truth that she was desperately horny for him.
She almost ran to the mantle clock, ripped the key free from
underneath it, and unlocked the chastity belt from her waist.

She guided his hand between her legs and let
him feel that she was dripping. She gasped at his touch and parted
her knees to give him access.

After letting him stimulate her manually for
a couple of minutes, she dragged him back to the bedroom and spent
the next few hours showing him that she was as inventive in her
lovemaking as she had been in her gamesmanship.

He proved to be her equal in bed.

And on the dining room table.

And in the bathtub.

Their evening did not end at midnight, as her
rules specified. The next morning, she made him breakfast; then he
helped her clean all the evidence of their passion from her
friend's apartment. It was the first night of a beautiful
friendship that lasted until she graduated.

And it wasn’t the
I-don't-want-to-fuck-you-any-more kind of friendship. It was the
happy, lusty kind.

Suzie's Lessons

It began as a day like any other for Rob. He
was sitting in front of his computer, typing up a storm, writing
code as fast as his mind could think. And that was pretty damned
fast.

Then, a strange woman walked into his office.
That was not odd in itself. That happened to Rob all the time.

This woman was a little older than most, but
not old enough to raise any red flags. He was not good at guessing
women’s ages. If forced, he would have said that she was about
thirty. Maybe thirty-five. Probably not late twenties, but he could
be wrong about that. Like I said, he was not good at women’s
ages.

But he was good at predicting women’s
reaction to him because it never varied. They looked at his rumpled
clothes and unkempt hair, rolled their eyes, dismissed him as a
nerd, and walked away. Then, before long, maybe in a day or two,
maybe not for a few weeks, they’d come back and ask him to fix
their computer.

He would always agree to help and spend an
hour correcting the problem, hoping that the woman would be
impressed with his knowledge and skill. Not that he normally had to
use much of his extensive knowledge or skill. Nine times out of
ten, the problem was something that the woman had caused and
something that she could have fixed almost as quickly as him if
they’d only read the fucking manual.

But the women would never sully themselves by
deigning to read a manual – that was beneath their dignity. Nor
would they stay and watch how he fixed their computer – that was
too boring. Nor would they listen to his explanation about how to
avoid the problem next time – he was too boring. Instead, they’d
gush a quick thanks and send him away, not thinking of him again
until the next time they screwed up their computer. Chivalrous nerd
errants garnered few real rewards in this world beyond hearing a
few quick, empty words of insincere flattery as the
no-longer-distressed damsels showed them the door.

It was not surprising that Rob's social
skills tended to the perfunctory. Having a narrow range of
experience, he gave back what he received.

The woman currently darkening his doorway
looked distressed. Again, that was no surprise; every woman who
came to his office was distressed about her computer. And they let
their distress show because they believed that Rob would be more
likely to help them if he could see it on their faces.

They were right.

When this woman spoke, she said about the
same thing as the last dozen women who had come to his office. “I
have a problem. I need your help.”

“What’s wrong with your computer?” he asked
with a sigh.

She looked at him oddly and said, “My
computer? Nothing. As near as I know, my computer’s fine. That’s
not the kind of help that I need.”

“Oh.” That was Rob got his first inkling that
there was something different about this woman. “What kind of help
do you need?”

That was the moment that Rob’s day became a
day like no other. The woman blushed. No woman had ever blushed in
his presence before. Considering some of the stupid things that
they had done to their computers, many of them should have blushed,
but this was the only woman whose face actually turned red. “This
is kind of embarrassing.” She paused for a moment then said in a
rush, “I need you to remove my bra.”

“What?” He could not believe that she had
said what he had heard.

She spoke more slowly. “I need you to take my
bra off for me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What word don’t you understand?” she asked
in frustration. “Bra or remove? A bra is a piece of underwear that
a woman wears on her chest to support her breasts.” She raised her
hands to her chest but did not actually touch her breasts.
“Removing it requires unfastening it at the back.”

“I know that,” Rob snapped back. He
interpreted her sarcasm as implying that he had never removed a
woman's bra before. He never had – a fact that he would have been
embarrassed to admit – but, if given the opportunity, he was sure
that he could figure out how it was done. His technical competence
was not limited to software but encompassed hardware as well.

Though woman’s breasts looked more soft than
hard to him. Not that he had ever touched one to know from
first-hand experience.

At this point, I should tell you a couple of
basic facts about Rob. He’s a young man, a month shy of his
twenty-second birthday, who had just begun his master’s degree in
computer science. He was not ugly but no one would call him
handsome, either, especially when they saw him in his usual stained
and rumpled attire. Even if he cleaned himself up in strict
accordance to Esquire rules, he would still look quite average.

His appearance did not bother him, though.
His main obstacle to happiness was that he had almost no social
life. He liked people and would have liked to hang around them
more, but had no idea how to relate to other human beings. Not all
computer geeks are nerds, but some are and the nerd stereotype
could have been based on Rob.

The only thing that was really wrong with Rob
was that he was relentlessly boring. He could speak about little
apart from computers. He never read books or newspapers, watched
little television, and didn’t know one end of a football from the
other. Worse, when he started talking about computers, he was
excruciatingly pedantic, especially if he was speaking to a woman.
He should be forgiven for that, though. In order to get him to fix
their computers, women invariably acted like helpless children
around him. Then, when he spoke to them as though they were
children, they felt insulted.

It was a no-win dilemma.

It was not surprising, then, that he had
never had a date with a woman. I was probably the only woman that
had any kind of friendship with him and that was pretty much
limited to a few dinners with groups of students in the computer
science program. I was more likely to talk to him in an Internet
chat sessions than in real space. I let him be one of my Facebook
and Twitter friends mostly out of sympathy.

This woman, though, acted completely
differently from any other woman that he had ever met. Rob as
flabbergasted when she closed his office door and then began
unbuttoning her top. She was wearing a heavy, shapeless, plaid
flannel shirt that was probably the least sexy item of clothing
that any woman had ever worn in the history of fashion. Her breasts
were large enough to make their presence obvious but the shirt
completely hid the fine details of her shape. And he was soon to
discover that the details of her shape were exceptionally fine.

Despite the unsexy fashion, the fact that she
was voluntarily stripping it off in the privacy of his office
instantly made the lumberjack shirt the most sensual piece of
clothing that he had ever seen on a woman. He might well spend the
next decade fantasizing about plaid flannel.

As the buttons were released, one by one, the
flannel began to gape open, revealing shiny black leather cups on
either side of the woman’s lovely milky cleavage. When the final
button was released, the woman reached up to pull the shirt off her
shoulders, a movement that thrust her full breasts forward hard
into the stiff cups. The bra cups were large but her breasts were
big enough that they filled them completely. As the tender flesh
pressed into them, she could not suppress a gasp. She moaned softly
as she lowered her arms and relaxed her shoulders. It was a ragged,
breathy moan.

Rob didn’t know if women normally wore
leather bras or not. But he did know that he had never heard such
an erotic sound as that moan in his life. This was the stuff of his
dreams.

“Why don’t you take your own bra off?” he
asked.

“I can’t,” she replied. “I need help.” She
turned to present her back to him.

He was astounded to see that, instead of a
simple hook and loop clasp, the bra was fastened with a small black
in-line combination lock, exactly like his bicycle lock. Most
likely someone had made this bra by taking a bicycle lock apart and
re-riveting the lock to the reinforced bra straps. Now he
understood why the woman had been wearing the oversized flannel
shirt; the lock would have made a noticeable bulge if she had been
wearing a lighter, tighter blouse.

As well, he could see that the geometry of
the straps in the back made it impossible to remove the bra until
the lock was unfastened. The shoulder straps converged just below
the nape of her neck to form a single strap that came down her
spine to split again right above the lock where it was attached to
the cross strap at either side of the lock by loops. The cross
strap could only be pulled from the loops if the lock was
unfastened. Furthermore, the cross strap curved upward to put the
lock in the upper part of her back where it would be difficult for
her to reach. It was a fiendish design.

“Do you know the combination?” he asked.

“Yes, but I can’t see to work it. I can’t use
a mirror because the numbers are too small and I can’t get close
enough.”

Rob could see what she meant. The numbers on
his bicycle lock were painted white to stand out against the black
rings. On this lock they had been repainted black so that they no
longer contrasted with the background. You had to get within a
couple of inches of the lock to read the numbers.