by Carrie
Diary of A Rich Girl – Chapter 6
Once again Rodney came walking into my bedroom unannounced while Daniel was in the middle of me. Instead of immediately leaving, he said, “I must speak with madam, or I shall be late for my plane.”
I yelled, “Must you always interrupt us! Give me a minute.”
Daniel withdrew from my bottom and showed his gleaming private member to Rodney. It was a sly insult to let him know who was in control of me. “Yes, madam,” He shut the door.
I arched my bottom up and said, “Continue.”
When he was done with me I slipped on my robe and went into the living room where Rodney waited next to his neatly packed valise. I curtly said, “I thought you left hours ago.”
He said, “There was a delay at the last moment.”
“Why didn’t you call?” I demanded.
“I did.” Then he looked toward my bedroom. Nothing else needed to be said.
“What was so urgent that you had to barge in on me?”
He said, “I perused your note concerning Mr. Farrelli.”
“What about it?”
He said, “I would rather not have him punish you.”
I replied, “He did quite well with me several nights ago.”
He said, “You weren’t supposed to let him spank you.”
I defiantly said, “Well, he did.”
“But he’s not a professional.”
I angrily said, “Professional? He spanked me very well, and I would like him to spank me while your gone. I went through your recommendations you left me. None of them I liked.”
Rodney said, “Understandable. I expected you not to like any of them. But Mr. Farrelli is a novice.”
I said, “Is that so? Look at my bottom.” I undid my robe. I didn’t care that he got to see my lovely body stark naked. I turned around and showed him my red rear. “Now what do you think?”
He said, “Then I should have a word with him.”
“About what?”
He said, “How he must punish you.”
I said, “Then call him on your way to the airport.”
Rodney said, “I will have to advise him to be very thorough with you. You’ve been excessively haughty lately, and you’ve been testing my nerves.”
I sternly advised him, “You are going to miss your plane. Don’t expect to stay here for the next two weeks.”
He said, “Your attitude is intolerable.”
I said, “It damn well should be! I’m your boss. Don’t ever forget that! And don’t ever barge in on me again or I will have your ass…is that understood!”
He was visibly shaken. I could see it in his eyes as they averted my glare. He had been getting too big for his britches lately, and he knew it. It was thoroughly satisfying to have verbally taken him down a few of notches, and he was smart enough to endure my wrath and shut his mouth.
I said, “Is there anything else that you need to bother me with before you go, Mr. Rodney?
He apologized, “Sorry madam, for my rudeness.”
“I just spoke with Miss Maltby at the agency. She’ll deal with you the next time you step out of line.”
“Yes, madam. Please forgive me.”
I thought about it and said, “This time I will, but next time don’t tempt my fury.”
He did that bow, “Most certainly, madam.”
I told him, “You better return with a different attitude. Because from now on things will be different around here…..Now I think you’re late enough. Get out of here.”
He took his valise and was out the door.
* *
I entered Farrelli’s tailor shop just after five. I had on my new Italian sunglasses on. My hair was combed straight back and it deliciously fell over my shoulders. I was stunningly gorgeous as usual – – a taller more elegant version of Winona Ryder (and honest!). I wore an extra tight pair of 501’s with stiletto heeled Sergio Rossi ankle booties and a little black silk T-shirt with a cute quarter-cup bra underneath. I was a knockout. Men had been tripping all over me the whole day.
I noticed some of the other ladies’ clothing bunched on the racks. All very tasteful. All very nice. The smell of fine material and brewed tea permeated the little shop; yet, it was distinctly pleasing and cozy. A cozy place to get a spanking.
Farrelli came to greet me. He didn’t recognize me with my sunglasses. I lifted them. He returned the gesture with that weak and hurt smile on his face.
I said, “Mr. Farrelli, what is the matter now?”
He shrugged his shoulders and said, “We can’t find her.”
I asked him, “Did you spank her?”
He said, “How could I? She did not come home.”
I said to him, “She will return when she needs money. That is when you make your move to take control of her.”
He weakly smiled and said, “Do you think so?”
I said, “Mr. Farrelli. Look at me. Tell me what you see.”
He said, “I see the most beautiful woman in the world.”
I said, “Thank you, but besides that.”
He didn’t know what to say so I said it for him, “What you see is a successful woman. If you have patience and play your cards right she will prevail as have I.”
He seemed to be rejuvenated, which meant that he felt a little bit better. I asked him, “May I enter the back area.”
He nodded his head and said, “I thought you said you would call, but then I might have been out. I’m sorry if you did call and I didn’t answer you.” He dutifully followed me into the back of his little shop.
I told him, “No, I didn’t call.” He was surprised. I said, ” I told you I would be back. Anyway it’s been a several days now. I just felt that I needed to stop by.” I touched my bottom; it was already feeling hot. ” I hope you remember.”
Timid as always, he said, “Oh yes, that’s right.. Some how last time I had gained courage, but now, since she has left…well you can just imagine.” I really didn’t care. I towered over him in his little work area. I stood there patiently. I suppose I must have been very intimidating to him.. Again, he didn’t know what to do with me.
I said, “What’s really bothering you?”
He said, “Nothing really, but I don’t know if my wife would approve of this.”
I asked him, “Approve of what?”
He said, “Being here with you.”
I then said, “You have any problems with your wife, let her speak to me. Now I thought we had an agreement.”
He said, “We most certainly do, Ms. Dupree.”
Good. I slipped off my top, dropped it to the floor and then unbuckled my belt. I noticed Mr. Farrelli staring at my breasts.
I said, “Mr. Farrelli, you have seen a quarter-cup bra before?” He ambiguously nodded. But I must say it was difficult pulling my jeans down, they were so tight. I said, “Will you give me a hand.”
“Ms. Dupree, why don’t we move your spanking up to tomorrow?
“No. I’ve been needing a good hot spanking all day long, and I can’t wait any longer. Are you ready?”
He pointed to my sheer panties and asked me, “Is that one of your new line?”
I said that it was the very latest and it was selling right off the racks.
He said, “If you don’t mind me saying, I like the lacy top, but I can see your private parts very well.”
I told him, “Of course. That’s the whole idea. It makes a girl feel very sexy to know she has a nice panty on the whole day,” and then sarcastically said, “That’s why they make them, Mr. Farrelli.”
Then the phone rang. He was on for a while. When he was done he returned more morose than before.
He said, “I’m sorry. I have to return home. I promised to take my wife bowling.”
I angrily replied, “Bowling! You have to be kidding!”
He said they had reserved lanes, and that they were going to have Chinese food afterwards. How glamorous! I was infuriated. I tugged up my jeans, threw on my top, and left the shop. I didn’t tell him what I thought of him, but I don’t think I had to. Though I did agree to come back another day.
In the meantime, I needed to be spanked, and just about anyone would do at the moment. I was already beginning to miss Rodney. He was very good about that. If I felt I needed a good hot spanking at a moment’s notice more often than not he would oblige. One time we were shopping, and he knew I needed one terribly. I was agitated and at nerves end. Although his arms were full of shopping bags, we managed to find a spot in the basement where he bent me over, pulled down my panties, and gave it to me very hot and thorough. We then continued shopping and had a most pleasant day
But Rodney was away now. I thought about going through his recommendation list. Maybe I could call one of his people. I went home and made several calls. I spoke to a gentleman named, Thisley.
Thisley said, “I see, madam. Well, I have the highest respect for Rodney. We’ve been working out of Miss Maltby’s butler agency for years, ever since England. Of course once you’re under my supervision, you will be obligated to me for the time you are here. It’s all in the contract, and you’re probably more familiar with it than I.”
Impatiently I said, “Yes, yes, of course, I know all about it. I would like to come over as soon as possible.”
Thisley said, “Of course, we’re living at the Groton’s on 5th Avenue and 64th. You’ll have to come up the worker’s entrance. I hope you don’t find that too inconvenient.”
Impatiently I said, “No, that will be discrete enough- – you recently have been engaged in this activity? Am I wrong to presume not?”
He said, “Oh, yes of course, madam, I’ve thoroughly spanked Mrs. Groton’s daughters for years. By the way, they are all at Princeton, except one who is at Columbia, or is it Penn? My, my, I forget. It’s hard to keep track of four little girls.”
I said, “Fine, I’ll be right over.” I didn’t know whether to change into something more proper, or just go like this. I decided not to change; why bother? My only other concern was Daniel. I’d have to risk telling him to go to hell if I ran into him on my way out the building. I was in no mood to be his little slut.
The Grotons were only a ten minute walk at the most. While on the way I amusingly came to the conclusion that I didn’t need to have mirrors anymore. The looks I got from every man that past me once again confirmed how hot I am. I turned up 64th and went through the service entrance and into the service elevator. I received strange looks from the operator. I’m sure he was baffled as to why someone like me should be coming up the service elevators.
Thisley greeted me at the rear entrance of the apartment and quickly took me to one of the service bedrooms. He said that he would return in several minutes. He shut the door and left me there.
It was a nice room, equal to the service quarters in my apartment, except Rodney was single; Thisley had a small family, a son I was told from his second wife. She was the cook. It seemed to be a pleasant little setting, remote yet within immediate reach to the family quarters.
Time went by. I kept looking at my watch. I felt rather peculiar sitting in the unfamiliar room all by myself. I could tell it was a boy’s room. It was very modest and spare. There was the typical travel photo of the boy and his parents riding in some canal in Europe; yet, the room was properly sparse.
The rules in my household were that the service people: maids, the butler, and cook(s), were to keep a minimum of unnecessary belongings, otherwise the tone of service would be incorrect. I certainly wasn’t going to put up with Carnival Cruise life in my household, and it was obvious neither was Mrs. Groton.
Soon, I felt as if I had been in that small room for an interminable amount of time. The longer I waited the more apprehensive I became. I felt more like a prisoner – – someone under house detention. I just couldn’t think of why it was taking so long to get spanked.
I knew that Thisley was busy directing the staff for the party that the Grotons were having, but he wouldn’t have had me come over if he had known that my request could not have been fulfilled. Regardless, I became restless and tired of waiting. The room felt as if it has become smaller, more confining. It totally bored me. I had seen every nook and cranny a hundred times.
I got up and looked out the window, but like all service quarters, it faced the back. I suppose I could have counted the bricks if my goal was to go insane. A fly kept buzzing on the window pane trying to make it’s way in. In frustration, it circled around and tried to fly through it. The pitiful thing just wouldn’t give up. We were alone to together. Soon I might be trying the same thing.
Then suddenly the door opened. It was the boy in the photo.. His hair was messed and there was chocolate smeared on the corner of his lips. His tie fell over a gold button of his school blazer; a shirt tail had escaped his trouser.
I said “Your father told me to wait in here. We have some business to discuss.” He didn’t answer me. He sort of grinned. He took off his jacket and retrieved a candy bar from it’s pocket and bit into it. I said, “I’m Ms. Dupree. And you are….?”
He jerked his thumb for me to get off his chair. Since it was his I gave it up to him. He sat down and slowly chewed on his candy. I said, “Did your father say when he’d be coming back?”
He was a funny boy. I’ve met these type before. They don’t talk much. They sort of let you blabber until you feel like you’re some monkey in a zoo. At first glance his cherubic face would lead you to believe that he was not more than twelve. Well, he just had to be older than that.
“How old are you?” He ignored me. He just tossed the chocolate paper away and pulled out another candy bar. How did the tyke manage to stay so skinny? I said to him, “I don’t think you’re father would like you throwing that sticky wrapper on the floor.”
He laughed at his monkey in the zoo. I had the distinct feeling he was playing some sort of sadistic game with me. He stuffed his mouth with his sticky chocolate bar, and pointed to the bed while his jaw delightfully stretched and twisted and dripped the sticky mess. Then he pointed to his chair.
It all suddenly came clear to me, and I didn’t think it was funny. Thisley had sent the boy here in his place. I was just about to walk out and get Thisley when I realized that if the Grotons saw me here it could turn into a scandal. What excuse could I give? I wasn’t invited.
We weren’t real friends. They were much older than I, but Mrs. Groton and I had chaired several social functions; we were socially tied. She thought I was an up and coming member of society. I had been invited to join some of the most prestigious clubs. I shared intimate dinner parties with the select few.
If they caught me here it would be totally embarrassing, an absolute ruin. So I was stuck in this room with this evil little child by his evil father. I wasn’t about to get spanked by this boy!
I was absolutely infuriated over the evil things these butlers could come up with. Thisley never even planned on spanking me. It must have been his perverse English sense of humor. He was too busy with the party so he sent his son in to do it for him.
Well, I wasn’t going for it. I decided to get the hell out of there. I walked right to the door and turned the handle. It was locked. I angrily demanded, “Open it!” My keeper was elegantly scratching his head and yawning. He seemed to enjoy my situation and laughed.
I tried the door again. It still wouldn’t budge. He had locked me in good. I turned and stared at him. Then I noticed that dumb crazy fly buzzing on the window. So did he. He opened the window and craftily slapped the fly dead, and proudly showed me the palm of his hand with the squashed remains of the critter.
It was a metaphor for what he was going to do to me. I realized that I didn’t have much of a choice. The longer I waited to be punished the more I risked getting caught. I assumed Thisley had invited me up because the Grotons were out.
Wrong, he did it for the opposite reason. The thrill of embarrassing me was to great to resist. I was left with two miserable choices. Wait it out and risk getting caught, or get it over with. I couldn’t wait any longer. I decided to not let my anger get the best of me.
I said, “Alright. You want to spank me? Go ahead and get it over with.” He took out another candy bar. I couldn’t believe it. I was going to get spanked by a candy bar eating little monster. I unbuttoned my jeans and started to tug them down. He put down his candy bar, sat up straight, and stared at me at I struggled to get my tight jeans down.
I finally got my jeans tugged down to my knees. I did what was proper and showed him my pantied bottom for him to inspect. But the wicked boy just sat there. I said, “Well are you going to stay over there all day or are you going to spank me?” Then I heard the bolt of the door lock turn.
Thisley entered the little room. He face was flushed with anger, “Just what the hell are you doing, Ms. Dupree!”
I said, “You have some nerve allowing a boy to spank me. You could have had the decency to have at least told me this before you acted on your perversity.”
He was flabbergasted, “Decency? Perversity? Whoever said that Jean-Michel was going to spank you?”
I said, “I know how you butlers like to perversely taunt your ladies.”
He said, “Nonsense, I sent the boy in here to do his homework.”
I said, “He doesn’t need to. His French is perfect.”
Thisley exasperatedly cried, “Of course it is. The boy is French.”
I did a double take – – I looked at Thisley and then at the boy. I asked him, “Is that true?”
Thisley said, “He doesn’t speak a word of English. He’s been here two days, just in time to enroll at the Lycee. Now if you hurry up and get dressed and never set foot in here again, I’ll leave the matter as a discrete incident to be forgotten.”
I buttoned up my jeans and said, “You should apologize for having left me here for so long. It created the wrong impression.”
He said, “I work for the Grotons, not for you, Ms. Dupree. Now get out!”
I felt terrible. I wanted to cry. I had been cruelly embarrassed, but in my heart I knew I had been decent, and I believe that is where God looks when he judges you. Still, I had been an absolute fool. I allowed my burning desire to get spanked get the best of me.
*
The following Saturday was lovely, though a bit humid. Anne and I had decided to go to the park and skate dance. We just loved it more than anything else. I threw on a cool white sleeveless nylon running shirt, and to go with it a nice fresh pink mini skirt, which made skating very free and easy.
I skated down 72nd street, through the park, and went to the band-shell where everybody meets. It’s a lovely spherical area bordered with old fashioned New York benches and is bisected by the famous promenade that is lined by the most tallest and glorious of the park’s trees.
Everyone one skates around the circle — doing their own thing. It’s a very free attitude, sort of like adult recess from the daily regimen of work in this hustle and bustle city. I noticed Anne’s back pack on a bench. Some friends we had known from the park were sitting there.
They told me Anne had skated off with Jamil. Jamil is this black guy who is a really good skater and Anne loves to dance with him down below: a dead end paved hill that the skaters have taken over and fill with music on the weekends. I skated to the hill, but I couldn’t find her. I searched the area several times until Roberto, a hispanic/black guy that I often dance with told me, “Your pretty blonde friend, she and Jamil left.
Obviously Anne had forgotten her backpack. So I went back to get it and told everyone where I was incase she returned. I returned to the hill and put her stuff with some people I knew to keep an eye on it. Roberto approached me and in a friendly way took my hand and asked me to dance. I told him, “Sure, I’d loved to.”
One of the guys joked, “Watch out for him, he likes to put his hands on the girls.” It was just a tease because I like to dance with Roberto. Obviously a guy has to put his hands on a girl when she dances with him and when we grind Roberto likes to put his hand on my bottom while I gyrate, but then all the girls do the same thing.
Well, the music was just terrifically hot with a great beat and in no time we were skate-dancing and going through several of the numbers he taught me. The one I liked best was when he flipped me around and rested me on his chest while we skated scarily backwards in the circle of dancers, but it was a lot of fun.
We kicked our skates out sideways and rocked to the beat, flowing with the circle of skaters. I didn’t mind he had his arm tucked under my breasts, though I probably should have worn a bra, but I noticed the guy who joked Roberto before dancing alone nearby watching us. Roberto then turned me around and circled and we did the same move going the other way.
Then the beat changed and to a hard rhythm and we gyrated. I got on his thigh and rubbed up and down as he skated us around the circle kicking out with one skate and then the other. That was why I wore my mini. Not only is it cooler in the humidity and heat but it makes it easier to straddle.
We really rocked and all the girls and guys just looked and felt happy. Then suddenly, as I gyrated, I knew I was going to come. The beat got really harder and we just locked our eyes as I gyrated my muff up and down. I don’t think Roberto knew I was on the verge of coming.
Surely my face must have looked rather flush, but you get that feeling anyway from dancing. As I gyrated my crotch on his thigh he pushed my bottom harder on his thigh to the driving beat. I think he may have accidentally hiked up my skirt because I felt his hand pressing on my panties. But who could see in this mass of dancing people.
His fingers pressed against my bottom to hold me as we skated round the with the circle. Up and down I drove my muff on his thigh. My breasts stood out proud with my nipples cutting through the fine silky material of my running shirt. The DJ master drove the rhythm harder and I drove my pantied crotch harder into Roberto’s thigh. Then I felt the feeling of bliss as my body vibrated and stretched out. I was coming. I smiled and held my gaze into his eyes and squeezed his thighs with my legs.
Then as if the DJ master had read my mind he switched the music to a totally different beat. It was like this every time I met Roberto in the park, and he never had a clue that I had come. I then suggested, let’s skate around the park. He took my hand and we hit the interior road of the park.
I took Anne’s backpack and told the guys to tell her that I had it. Roberto and I left.
We went east and north, past the Metropolitan Museum of Art towards the Great Lawn. New York’s Central Park is heaven in what is sometimes hell. We cut across through the road that bordered north of the Great Lawn when Roberto told me he needed to take a break.
We took off our skates and walked through a lovely little hilly area that surrounded by trees where it was quiet and nice to sit down and relax. Then we heard a noise. At first we weren’t sure what it was, but then we both knew without a doubt. It was the cry of a woman getting fucked. Her cry was warm, sweet, and totally under the grip of her passion.
We both felt awkward, but at the same time we couldn’t resist spying. I guess we were no worse than Daniel. We carefully followed her wonderful cries which started and stopped. We tried to guess where it was coming from. I followed Roberto as we walked around a large rock and up a slight hill when she started her cries again.
We were closer than we had thought. He cries now picked momentum. I knew she was getting fucked harder and that she would soon reach climax if she didn’t pace herself. Roberto pointed. I followed his finger and looked down. He turned to me and I turned to him. It was Anne and Jamil. Her legs were thrown up on his chest and her panty was dangling off her ankle while she rocked her bottom into his cock.
We stepped away. Roberto wanted to stay and watch – – so did I. So we stayed for another ten minutes and watched Anne get fucked until she wildly came. Jamil then removed his hard cock, which was full of his cum. We watched Anne sit up and lick him clean. I knew at that moment that Anne had been seeing Jamil for a while. Her story about not finding a guy was total nonsense.
We left and decided to exit the park and skate the streets. I just followed him wherever he went. It was still mid afternoon. We headed north above 96th street where it changed to a latino/black community. He pointed to a six story walk-up and said he had just moved into his new apartment. He wanted to know if I would like to see it.
I told him sure. It’d love to. We took off our skates. I followed him up to the top floor and we entered his railroad flat (a term for a dwelling style built in New York City in the latter 19th century).
We drank some beer and started talking. He told me I was a wonderful dancer. I thanked him for teaching me a lot. Then he reminded me again that I was beautiful. I joked and already said I knew that. He asked me about my life, and I giggled and said that he already knew that had been a high fashion model. He told me that he was taking a course in photography and was seriously thinking of becoming a fashion photographer.
I told him how tough it was. He said he knew and that it frightened him at times, but he wanted to follow his passion So I told him I’d give him a hand with his portfolio and spend an afternoon modeling for him and show him a few tricks of the trade.
He then took out his camera and politely asked if I would pose for him. I told him that I didn’t mind posing, but I said that I wasn’t wearing anything special. He asked me what he should do for the clothing that I was wearing.
I told him he’d need to shoot a sporty youthful fun side. I then checked to see if Anne had put some clothing in her bag. I opened it and was totally surprised. It certainly wasn’t rollerblade stuff.
Instead, I found a brand new black leather strap with the price tag on it. My hand caressed the pliable yet firm piece of leather. There was a long hard heavy wooden paddle, handcuffs, a rope, and more. My imagination went wild thinking of what she was doing with it. She had fired Nigel the day before, so I wondered why she had bought these things.
I heard a click and looked up. Roberto had his camera trained on me. I told him that it would be difficult to do a shoot of me inside because of the clothing I was wearing (unless for catalogue work) demanded an outdoor setting. He looked a bit despondent. I thought he felt that maybe I didn’t want to really help him.
So I told him to wait for next week. But then he had an idea. He put his camera to the side and said that he had the perfect idea. He wanted to know if I could show him some lingerie moves. I looked at him like he was crazy. I told him that you need lingerie for that. So he thought for a moment and then , “Would you mind posing for me in your panties?”
I was a little embarrassed and said, “That’s about all I’m wearing underneath, Roberto, and I’m not wearing a bra as you already know” He put his camera down as if that was the end of that. I took a swig of my beer and said, “I am wearing a panty from my new line. It’s a flimsy sheer little thing. You’ll see it next week in the magazines.”
I said, “You could probably get some ideas if you study. I’ll give you a copy next week when we meet in the park.” He then asked me a good question, ” Is it easy to shoot lingerie?” I said, “Just remember, you’re selling sex, Roberto, not porn. You must make the woman who sees your photograph want to be that woman in that photograph. Then you’ve made your point as well as sale.”
He absorbed what I said and looked eager to use his camera. I had a feeling he just might be good. But it was almost six and I wanted to run over to Mr. Farrelli to get my spanking before he closed. He had promised me that he would take care of me tonight after he closed up.
I told Roberto that I had to go. I took Anne’s backpack and went to the door. Of course he tried everything to get me to stay. He approached me as I opened the door. He so desperately wanted me. There was a bitter expression on his face. I tried to soothe him, but it didn’t help.
He really tried to get me to stay. I knew what he wanted, but I wasn’t interested in having sex with him. Then he dropped a bomb. He wanted to know why I had let Jamil fuck me several weeks ago.
I had told Jamil to not say anything, but as usual….so I told Roberto, it was just one of those things. He wanted to know why I would fuck a black guy and not a Puerto Rican.
I told him, “Look Roberto, it has nothing to do with your nationality. Don’t be stupid. You and I are great friends. Why jeopardize the special thing we have?”
Then he asked me, “Was Jamil lying, then?”
I wanted to say that he was, but I had already insinuated that it was true. I let Jamil fuck me, that was my business So I told him, “It was just one of those things. I wasn’t planning on it. I’m sure it’s happened to you.”
But Roberto’s infantilism over came him. He angrily replied. “He fucked you in the park like he fucked Anne, right?”
I hesitated then told him, “Yes, if you really must know.” He asked, “Then you licked his cock for him like Anne?”
Tired of this interrogation I told him, “And, if I did? This is a free country, Roberto.”
And then he did something vicious. He pushed me through the door, “You fuckin’ bitch! You don’t think I’m good enough for you! Get the fuck outta here you bitch!”
He pushed me through the door and frighteningly chased me down the stairwell, pushing and shoving me all the way. I tripped and fell down the stairs and yelled for help. An Hispanic woman opened her door and started yelling at Roberto in Spanish, but nothing would stop him. I was just at the main landing when he grabbed my hair and threw me against the wall and dragged me to the bottom of the stairwell. He tore off my skirt, beat me, then tried to rape me.
But he didn’t know what was in Anne’s backpack. My hand had been tightly gripped on the handle of the hard paddle. I drew it out from the backpack and viciously whacked him in the head. He went reeling, stumbling backwards. Blood spurted from his mouth.
Disoriented and totally shocked at what happened, he could barely gain his balance to counter attack. I whacked him again. The few seconds that he had had to reorient himself were crushed by another whack. He fell on his back. Blood gushed from his smashed nose. He tried to come full force at me, but was checked again. He horribly screamed as he threw his head into his bloody hands and cradled what was left of his nose.
I quickly gathered my wits. To continue would have risked killing him, something I would have preferred to do at that moment, but my instincts, conditioned by years of rule of law brought me to my ‘legal’ senses.
Although he was clearly in violation of my rights as citizen and as a woman, I was also rich and white and he was poor and a minority. All too familiar with the perverse and sewer like political nastiness of racial retribution in this country, I took that split second of reflection and chose to leave. I was in no mood for some circus trial.
* * *
Postscript:
When I reached home I desperately needed to speak to someone. I called Carlota, a rather off-beat girl at the office. She is a very smart and savvy girl, incredibly good looking, but very ‘downtown ‘. High society didn’t interest her. She enjoyed her own interesting group of friends and didn’t care a twit what anyone else thought. I felt I had to speak to someone and I knew that Carlota would be the right one.
She most certainly was. She told me that she had had the same thing happen to her, except she had gone to court, and instead of getting restitution she got the ring around. Her solution, or at least, her peace of mind, came from her male-slave.
She sweetly laughed when I reacted strongly to the concept of a slave. Carlota said that he protected her, served her, and was totally devoted her. His greatest satisfaction was being owned by her. In turn she gave him the unique opportunity to slave over her total being — and sex wasn’t involved. Most importantly, if anyone tried to touch her she could count on him to protect her.
I found this fascinating. I asked her how would I go about finding someone like her slave-servant without ending up with a nut. Carlota said that she’d get to work on it.
Several days later I got my call. He came with Carlota’s highest recommendations. Taylor and I planned to meet in a cozy little café around the corner for later that afternoon. I had high expectations, and they were completely fulfilled, but first I had to speak to someone else.
