SWEET ADELINE: Getting More Than You Paid For
I COULDN'T BELIEVE WHAT I WAS DOING as I pulled up in front of her old two story brick row house and parked on the street.. I met her when she was tending bar at an anniversary party at the clubhouse in the 55+ community where I lived, alone now. I flirted and she flirted back and we made each other laugh. Toward the end of the evening she let me know she was a “working girl,” available for a reasonable fee, and, if I could pay for a taxi or give her a ride home. For the price of an hour she spent the night; a very satisfying one for both of us, mostly vanilla with hints of kink. I took her to breakfast and home in the morning. Her name was Adeline. Addy for short.
I thought she was exceptionally pretty with a charming smile and a warped sense of humor like mine. She was twenty-seven, five foot- six on an athletic, almost skinny body, dark brown hair to just above her shoulders and hazel eyes. I had been following her ads for a few weeks. She offered mild to severe bdsm in her repertoire of services. We had talked about that the night she stayed with me and she said it was her favorite thing to do. Ever since and reading that over and over, I had been having an attack of the S/M hornies which I thought were long gone. I finally got up the courage to call her and ask for a date.
"Hello?"
"Addy. This is Calvin. From the anniversary party?”
After a moment she replied. “Oh yes. I remember you.” Silence again.
“I wonder if we could get together this afternoon for a couple hours or so." I was going to say for a little mild bdsm but she spoke up before I did.
"Uhhh, I don't know," she replied hesitantly, "I'm not feeling too warm and fuzzy about guys right now. As a matter of fact," her voice strengthened, "I'm kind of angry with men in general. So it might not be a good idea."
"Wow," I said. "What happened?" I heard a deep sigh.
"Well... about two weeks ago one of my clients stole my cell phone and I just went through the hassle of getting a new number. Then last night a guy booked a two hour session and didn't show up after I'd turned one of my short-time regulars down. Then this morning I had a date and the guy paid me with counterfeit money. I didn't realize it until after he was long gone. So I really feel like hurting somebody to get even. So this isn't a good time."
Perfect! My heart started beating faster and my face flushed. "I'm sorry that happened to you, but I’d really like to see you. We had a good time at my place and I’ve been thinking about you ever since. We don't really know each other and I didn't have anything to do with any of it. But I think you're kind of cute and I'd like to be with you for a little while." There was silence. Her voice was harsh when she finally spoke.
"I remember you said you knew something about bdsm. I just told you, I'm pissed off. I want to hurt a man as much as those three bastards hurt me. So if you want to see me that bad... you'll be that man. That's my condition. No lovey-dovey shit. A real bdsm session. Think it over and call me back." She hung up.
I thought it over for several minutes. I had played some real serious S/M games in years past. I thought over some of the scenarios I'd gone through with both men and women and groups. Most of it was very exciting. Some of it was downright dangerous…and exciting. I laughed to myself. How bad could a session with her be? And it’s what I’ve started craving again. I called her back.
“Yeah?” she said flatly.
“How ‘bout I book for two hours?”
“Two hours?” She was quiet for a long moment, then, “I’m gonna hurt you, man!” The last sounded like a statement and a question.
“Yeah. I know.” There was another stretch of silence.
“Ooo- kay. I’m up for two hours. Looking forward to it. But I don’t know if you will be. So let me tell you now, it’s the money up front. If you wanna quit early … no refunds.”
“Fair enough.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Thennn … Come on over.”
“I’m on the way.”
She answered my knock on her door and then stood aside to let me enter. She closed the door and locked it. We faced each other. She was wearing simple street clothes; baggy tan cargo pants, black knit cotton T-shirt and tan boat shoes. Her hair was in a short ponytail held by a rubber band.
I smiled, she didn't. She led the way farther in, through a living room, a dining room, a generous kitchen and into a large add-on. Through the back door window I could see a shortened back yard with still enough room for a single car parking pad. The house was nicely furnished and surprisingly clean considering her profession.
The add-on was superbly crafted in heavy post and beam construction filled in with real maple paneling and simple cherry molding. The floor was wide oak strips. I was very taken with it. A window covered with closed venetian blinds was in the middle of each sidewall flanked by double doored closets on one side and on the other side of the room a pub table and two high arm chairs near the kitchen, a made up three-quarter bed with two pillows under the window and a small room holding a lavatory at the back end.
“I’ve never seen anything like this in a row house. Unbelievable,” I said, “and fantastic workmanship.”
“It was built a long time ago for my great-grandmother when she couldn’t go upstairs anymore.”
I nodded and kept looking around. There was a small reclining chair on a round woven rug that could be slid around without damaging the floors. Then there was an elongated saw horse with eye screws at several locations on the legs. It was padded with a black leather covering. A round barstool was the last odd piece of furniture.
She went over to the table and I followed her. On the table was an array of ropes and hooks, clothespins and C-clamps; a gallon jug of water; a pants hanger, the kind that squeezes the cuffs together and lets the slacks hang straight; and a long, wide, old, brown belt with the buckle cut off. She watched me staring at the things. I almost laughed. This was the same stuff I started with as a teenager.
"Sure you want to do this?" she asked.
I felt my face redden and nodded, yes. She held out her hand. I gave her the money we'd agreed on. She counted it and checked to make sure it was real, then went into the dining room. When she came back she shook her head and threw out her hands gesturing like she was disappointed.
"Well?" she said tilting her head a little.
"What?" I asked.
"I can't do anything to you like that. Take your frigging clothes off! Get naked!"
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