Not a Meat Puppet, a Magic Puppet
by
Thea Hutcheson
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
Lilac Moon Books on Smashwords
Not a Meat Puppet, a Magic Puppet
Copyright (c) 2003 Thea Hutcheson
Cover by Laura Givens
Copyright (c) 2011 Laura Givens
http://www.lauragivens-artist.com
Discover other titles by Thea Hutcheson at Smashwords.com
And at http://www.theahutcheson.com
SMASHWORDS EDITION LICENSE NOTES
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Not a Meat Puppet, a Magic Puppet
The bar was hot and jangly. Not Tina’s kind of place but that was the point. Running her fingers through her short hair, she turned to the bar and ordered a beer. Sipping a house ale, she checked out the crowd. Why had she come in here? There’d definitely been something -- a scent maybe, she wasn’t sure.
Face it, Tina, you turned in because you’re so desperate you’d look under any rock, in any hole to find what you had with Dustin. Fucking cops. She sipped the beer, resisting the white hot anger, slicking it back the way she slicked her hair back, automatically, the way she’d never let anyone ever take her master or that magic from her again.
Which brought her back to her current loose ends, scanning the smoky interior. There was a powerfully built man, a bear daddy, at the end of the bar. They were attracted to her tiny figure, her fine bones. And she was drawn to the power they represented with the same bad results every time.
I am not a meat puppet, she thought. I’m a magical puppet, which, handled with finesse, becomes an instrument of many means. Men like Bear Daddy would hurt you because they could. Dustin hurt you because the pain got you through to the white hot magic of his touch. She looked away from the man’s smile.
Her eyes were drawn to a pocket of murk across the dance floor, near the far wall. She stared, sipping the beer and fancying it gave her superhero vision. It worked because she now saw a person there. The figure was facing her, left ankle casually resting on right knee, bottle poised on the crossed knee.
Still unable to tell if it was a man or a woman, she toasted the darkness. The bottle returned it. Some time later the bartender came up behind her and said, "There’s a beer heading over there if you want to join it."
She turned to him and he cocked his head to the murkiness across the way. He waited, ready to smile encouragement or shrug agreement. Turning back to the murkiness, it took her a moment to see that the bottle was still lifted at an inviting angle.
"Hmph." This was different. It was a move worthy of Dustin, who held control in one hand and latex in the other. She finished her beer and made her way across the dance floor, her hips and arms swaying to the heavy beat. Each step made the tension flow off of her like water. This was it, or it wasn’t. This was the stalk, the appraisal, go or no go.
When she reached the edge of murk, Tina slipped into it like a snake, head up, questing, body sinuous as she flowed up to the table and examined her host. He remained seated but she could tell he was lean and tight like her, not much taller, not five-and-a-half feet, surely. There was a solid presence to him, though and a whiff of … she wasn’t sure but got a solid memory of Dustin smiling wickedly as he rolled the Trojan over the new goddess dildo. How she’d prayed that night.
This man’s face was calculating; he could be cruel no doubt, but there was a vulnerability about the mouth. He could be hurt terribly, but you wouldn’t want to, couldn’t bear to. She resisted the urge to fill the gap with some witless observation. He continued to study her and she posed for him, carefully neutral, receptive.
Finally he spoke. "Beautifully made. How fortunate, I’d almost finished my beer." He uncrossed his leg and used it to nudge a chair out for her.
She pulled herself together, managing to let herself down into the chair gracefully. The very idea that she might meet someone like Dustin, the magic maestro, made her wanton. Flaunting a little made this man’s eyes get big with -- surprise, glee? He could be surprised. That was good to know.
When she smiled at him, he gave her one right back -- from his eyes too, and it had an inquisitiveness that nudged, just nudged for now.
He didn’t offer his name and she was going to ask when he spoke. "Music is good," he said.
She considered the statement. This music wasn’t her first choice. It sported a heavy bass beat and the melody was savagely sexual, which made it more blatant and less sophisticated than she liked.
"Makes the body clamor, doesn’t it?" he added, watching her.
"That’s one way to say it." He gestured at the beer. She picked it up. This was pricier than she’d bought herself. She nodded to him and took a swig.
"Mmm," she said, smiling at him. "Thanks, this is good."
He continued to examine her. Putting the beer on the table, she settled back in the chair to let him. The flush that spread across her face and her breasts swelled the hungry little mouth between her legs each time she thought about what he might be thinking.
"Open your shirt one button."
The pleasure of that took her a moment to remember to breathe. He took that for hesitation.
"Why not? You enjoy me watching you."
Another blush slid across her face and a spasm of pleasure pierced her.
"You see? Don’t deny it. If you enjoy it wouldn’t you want to encourage it? I want to see, you want me to see, what’s the problem?" He smiled. He knew the problem. Just like Dustin knew the problems he posed. She wanted to be bad for him just as she had for Dustin. He gestured with his bottle for her to pick up hers.
"Drink up and we’ll see what other mutual things we want."
She tipped the bottle at him and downed it. He’d recrossed his legs and his package made a solid bulge against the pale blue of his jeans. Tina took advantage of the view as she had with Dustin, who had known she liked it and affected the pose to enjoy her reaction.
When she settled back languidly, the man across the table nodded. "Now, where were we?" He pretended to think and she caught her smile before it broke.
"Yes, the button. Unbutton it now, please. I really would like to see."
She exhaled breathier than she meant and her hand went up to the button. She struggled for a moment, long nails catching the button before it obliged.
"Arrange it for me. You know what I want to see."
She shivered, remembering Dustin admiring the first latex fuck-me dress he’d bought her. Taking the edges of her blouse she unfolded them gracefully, exposing her cleavage.
He nodded in appreciation. "Very nice. Let me see more." And when she didn’t move he looked puzzled and said, "Another button, please."
She looked over her shoulder toward the bar. "No one will see us here," he said. His voice was a tenor, lilting and sly under the persuasion, and she believed him. "This is just a little show, a hint, the first taste."
A frisson of pleasure took her then and he followed it up with, "We’ll go somewhere else before I ask for anything really overt."
A smile broke then, she couldn’t help it. He was just like Dustin, knowing exactly the right tack, the perfect comment to make her melt or beg or whatever he was looking for. Just get through the pain, that little bit of pain whatever it is, and you’ll be dancing to that magic.