Working For Her 8

She was everywhere. Even when she wasn’t there.

I had never had a customer like Abby. I had never met a woman like her. She was so forward, so sexually aggressive, so clearly kinky.

But also weirdly aloof, strangely cold. She treated me like an object, like I was her property. Telling me what to wear, making me go down on her, and giving me nothing in return.

I couldn’t believe how much it excited me.

I had never understood those guys who get off on being treated badly. But maybe I just hadn’t met the right woman before. Clearly, Abby was exactly the right woman. Because the way I felt about her was different from how I had ever felt about anyone before.

I’m not talking about love here. I didn’t know the woman. I’m talking about the kind of infatuation I thought I had long outgrown. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I couldn’t get her off my mind.

After the day she left me alone in the bathroom, she returned to the upstairs room she seemed to spend most of the day in. As I got ready to leave, gathering up my tools, I paused outside the door, thinking of going in and talking to her.

I wanted to ask her, what was this? What were we doing here? She was using me like an object, as if serving her sexually was somehow part of the quote I had given her for replacing her bathroom.

I didn’t hate it. In fact, it turned me on as much as anything ever had. But I didn’t understand it.