The Playboy's Proposition Read Online Free PDF Page A

skirt but Michael held my hands and
said, “No, let them watch a few more minutes.”
    I hissed, “No. I’m done here. I can’t do it.” I fought to
get my skirt down.
    Michael said, “You can do it. Because I want you to. Because
deep down, you want to.”
    “No! You told me I could say no and that you’d stop. I want
you to stop, now.”
    He released me. I dropped the hem of my skirt, then turned
and glared at the three gawking men until they finally took my not-so-subtle
hint that they’d best clear the hell out, the show was over. All the while,
Michael stood there casually watching me, studying me, maybe.
    I smoothed my clothes and tried to control my breathing. I
said as calmly as I could, “If we’re done here, I’d like to go now.”
    “As you wish,” Michael said, and picked up the basket.
    We didn’t speak while he ushered me up to the front of the
building. I looked straight ahead, avoiding any eye contact with the other
customers. In my opinion, we couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
    The old man at the counter took ages to ring up all of
Michael’s items, his gnarled old hands shaking from palsy, taking multiple
stabs at entering the prices into the cash register. The man didn’t look like
he could fight off a small child, let alone a dangerous hooligan, and I had to
admit that Michael was undoubtedly right about there not being much of a safety
issue in the place.
    Finally, on the third try, the old man managed to complete
the sale and Michael and I headed to the car. And then we were driving away
from the sordid site. I exhaled in relief.
    Michael asked me if I was hungry now, but I again told him
no, that I hadn’t even thought of food. He simply said okay, then didn’t speak
again. All the fun and pleasure of our ride to the porn shop was gone.
    I snuck the occasional glance at him while he drove. His
handsome face was impassive. He didn’t appear angry, or even annoyed. In fact,
he looked pleasant enough. All the same, the silence bothered me. We were going
to have to talk about what happened, weren’t we?
    I waited quite a long time, hoping he would open the
conversation. When this didn’t happen, I debated what I might say. I wasn’t
angry at Michael for what had happened. My reaction had been more panic than
anything else. Did he understand that? Should I tell him?
    I hated the silence. It seemed to go on forever.
    I settled on asking, “Are you mad at me? For stopping it?”
    Michael answered simply, “No.”
    I couldn’t read anything into his tone. It was just a no and
nothing else. That wasn’t telling me anything.
    I said, “I just couldn’t do it. They were so ... ugh. It was
gross.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean, they were nasty. All dirty, and pervy and ...
gross.”
    “Oh,” Michael said. “So, if they were nice-looking, clean
men, then you wouldn’t have minded? You would have kept going as I asked you?”
    “Well ... I don’t know. No, I don’t think I would. I guess I
haven’t thought about it.”
    “You should think about it, Sweet. You had no problem
displaying yourself at the club the other night. How many people watched me
squeeze your breasts? And in the private room, all three of those people saw
you completely naked. You gave me a blow job in front of them.”
    I was glad it was dark in the car so he couldn’t see my
blush. I said, “That was different.”
    “How? Because they were all freshly showered?”
    It was impossible to miss the sarcasm in his tone. And yet
there was no world in which I would tell him that I had thought the glass in
that room was a one-way mirror. It was too embarrassing. No chance.
    I copped out with, “I don’t know. It’s just different.”
    Michael shook his head. “I want you to think about all of
this, and try to understand what’s keeping you from acting on what I believe is
a natural tendency toward exhibitionism.”
    “I’m not an exhibitionist.”
    “How do you know?”
    I sighed. “I