I love writing, but there’s always an issue because I love writing, but to make it work and to make it profitable, I have to be very prolific. I’m lucky to have a great writing partner in Kylie Gable, but writing means spending a lot of alone time cooped up with a laptop, If you know anything about me, you should know that that’s not how I like to live life. The result is that things like blogging sometimes get put off when I’m running behind on a new book. As a special treat, I thought I’d post a story I’m working on in parts. It’s not a sissy story. Instead, it’s a butt kicking and female domination story. I hope you like it.. This video inspired me in a writing a scene for my new book and I thought some of you would like it.
Following Me Is Not a Good Idea
Following me is not a good idea. I like to live in a neighborhood with real people and while I’m not talking about the slums here, I have lived in places where it just wasn’t a good idea for most single women to walk the streets alone after dark. I am not most single women.
For one thing, I can kick a bit of ass if I’m pushed. I love a good work out and I keep myself in amazing shape. I am not overly muscled bound, but I have the lean and toned body of an athlete. That same body turns a lot of heads where I’m dressed like I am today; in a short little blue dress and black heels. I love being sexy, I love getting the attention of every guy in the club, but I also just love the feeling of being in shape–I love to know that I am powerful.
I’ve never hid my body and that’s why at five-feet-ten-inches tall, I’m still wearing four-inch heels on my size 11 feet. It draws a lot of attention from guys who can’t help noticing that those heels make me six-foot-two. Tonight was one of those nights. I was feeling pretty tipsy after only three hours of dancing. My friend Angela went home early with a stomach virus, but when she told me not to ruin my evening, I agreed I’d take a cab.
Neither Angela nor I ever have to pay for more than a couple of drinks. Don’t get me wrong, I have a high alcohol tolerance, but two very attractive single women have that taken care of, if not by guys at the bar, but the owner or bartender who knows that your presence can be very good for their business.
That night, a hedge fund manager named Matt set his eyes on me early. He was a good looking guy with dark hair, and olive complexion, and piercing blue eyes. Impeccably dressed and stylish, his wardrobe hinted at the six figure salary he was probably taking home. He even smelled great, but he really wasn’t my type. He was so used to possessing whatever it was he wanted, that I could tell he looked at me as just one more possession. Maybe it’d be for one night and maybe it’d be for a lifetime, but he’d still treat me as his. That wasn’t going to happen.
We began a flirtatious dance. He was determined to tell me how great he was and I was equally determined to belittle his accomplishments and put him in his place.
“I bet I make more than anybody in this club,” he bragged.
“Is that how you value yourself?” I asked.
“No, it’s not, but money is why you work and I’m very successful at making it.”
“I don’t come from money. You only need so much to live on and then you just start buying toys like a spoiled child only rich people buy toys that cost more.”
He didn’t completely strike out with me, we danced a lot, and I did give him my time. We even kissed a couple of times. He spent a few hundred dollars buying me top shelf drinks, but in the end, I was getting bored with him so I thanked him for a great time and told him I’d be leaving now. I could see his ego deflate. I actually felt a bit bad for him. Underneath all of that bluster he actually wasn’t a bad guy.
“You’re serious? Why not have a few more drinks with me and I’ll drive you home in my Bugatti.”
“It’s tempting, Matt. You do have nice taste in toys, but it’s time I left. Have a great night.”
I left it like that. I was about to look for a cab, but I have a weakness for rainy nights. The rain had stopped, but it left everything smelling clean and I only lived a little over a mile away. Even though my spiked heels were made for style and not walking, I felt up for a walk.
I had long since gotten in the habit of paying attention to my surroundings. In a day with rain soaked streets like today, I couldn’t help but hear Matt. Three blocks from the club and he was still walking behind me about half a block. I nonchalantly looked back at him and he tried to duck between a couple of buildings. My first thought was that he might be trying to rape me, but that didn’t seem like him. From dancing closely with him, I knew that he had no weapon on him, and he wasn’t a very big man. Even without my heels, I still had two-inches of height on him. He probably outweighed me by twenty pounds, but he didn’t have my training and he was in the kind of shape that comes from regularly jogging, not from two hour tortuous routines in the gym.
I decided then and there that I would have my own kind of fun and as soon as I turned a corner and was out of his sight I ducked into a small alleyway and waited.
To Be Continued (If there is interest)