SSC 04    Wondering (Adult)
By Sunny B
Word Count: 503

Last night, we pretended to be strangers. There was this party that
some Russian friends of ours gave. All the girls were dressed up, sexy
in their skimpy dresses and glittering makeup. The guys wore shiny
button-shirts and black pants, with serious impenetrable faces. Big
hands around small waists dancing to blaring techno and dub. Everyone
drinking vodka and laughing.

He stood by the dj talking with his hands, pointing to albums and
scowling through the smoke from his cigarette, covertly watching me
dance with my friend Michelle.

At a break in the music, I strutted over, wobbling slightly in
unaccustomed heels. "Privyet, stranger," I said grinning. "Come dance."
He declined with a shake of his head and returned to enumerating the
merits of Bjork's vespertine with the dj.

Later on, I was drinking lemon sours with Michelle, discussing in high
pitched giggles the recent pseudoscandal of Margaret and Ahmad's
marriage for a green card, and filling her in on the stranger game. I
felt a hand on the small of my back, and a low voice whispering, "I've
been seeing you tonight." Michelle took the initiative of pretending to
introduce us, and as she walked off to refill her drink, he guided me
up the stairs, into a dimly lit bedroom.

I straddled his lap and kissed him as he sat on the bed, happily
pretending that this was a casual hookup. But I began to felt neglected
by his previous lack of attention. Kissing his neck, I asked,  "Are you
planning to seduce dj alexi later tonight or have you already fucked
him?"

Eyes flashed annoyance and a little anger. "How many times do I need to
tell you that you are not going to control who I speak with every
minute of the day?" "But /I/ wanted you to dance," I whined.

Before I knew what had happened, I was displaced from my perch on his
lap and was turned over his knee getting a hard spanking. I whined and
squirmed but didn't really cry until I heard him say, "This is getting
done right."

I found myself on my stomach on the bed, legs hanging over the side,
dress pushed up high, panties on my ankles, and his doubled-up belt
smacking my ass. I squealed into the pillow so our friends downstairs
wouldn't hear, begging in whispers for him to stop and swearing to be
good.

He finally stopped, pulled off his pants, and sat down on the bed. He
then pushed me to the floor onto my knees and pulled my face against
him. I did what he wanted, smiling to myself as he moaned softly, with
"big brother" watching me from a poster on the wall.

I woke up a while later, lying beside him, gray morning light out the
window. As I watched him sleep, touching his chest softly with my
fingertips, I wondered if the emotional turmoil of rapture and
shamefulness that welled up in my throat was love....or if it was just
obidient gratitude.