The Sweet Trap

With my thumb hovering over the submit button, I typed, "Let's meet tonight."

I had asked her three times before. I looked at her profile picture, which showed Belle wearing a silky black dress and grinning as if she was aware of every filthy thought I had.

I sent it.

Her response was prompt. "Not this evening. I'm occupied.”

Once more? I tightened my jaw.

I moaned as I stared up at my dorm room's ceiling after dropping the phone on my chest. There were no lights on. My phone was the only source of light.

"What is the matter with this girl?" I whispered. "Every girl flings herself at me." She... flees.

There was a buzzing message. With my heart beating once more, I picked up my phone.

"You're adorable when you're impatient, Crane."

I blinked. Adorable? I was never named that. Never.

"I'm not cute," I replied via text. "I'm attractive. And aroused.”

She responded with a kiss and a laughing emoji.

God, I was going crazy about her. She was fully aware of her actions. I also detested how much I enjoyed it.

I made another attempt the following morning.

"Tonight, tomorrow. Supper. I'll choose the location. No justifications.”

No response.

An hour passed while I waited. Nothing.

Then, just as I was about to give up, there was a ping.

"All right. One meal. You choose. Make it worthwhile.”

I smiled as I looked at the TV. You got it.

—

As I fixed my collar in the wine glass's reflection, I said to the waiter, "Table for two, under Xander."

It was a sophisticated, dimly lit restaurant that you would only take someone you truly wanted to impress. Soft jazz drifted through the air as candlelight shone on the tables.

With a black button-up, a new haircut, and the perfect amount of cologne, I looked dapper tonight. I was determined to make it memorable if this was my only chance to have Belle.

She was still not here.

I looked at the time. 7:14 p.m.

I whispered to myself, "Calm down." "I think she's just fashionably late."

A few more minutes went by. The door then opened, and there seemed to be a pause in the room.

She was there.

Long legs. Blonde hair. Red lips. The black dress she wore clung to her curves like burning silk. I momentarily lost my breath as she approached me, her shoes clicking softly on the floor.

She was almost as tall as I had thought she would be. She seemed to be in control of the evening based on the way she looked at me.

"Crane Xander?" she said in a sensual, silky voice.

"That's me," I said as I hurried to my feet. "You're—whoa. You are Belle.”

She smiled as if she had anticipated my comment. "I hope you weren't kept waiting for too long."

"Not at all." I took her chair away. "Please. Take a seat.

We placed a wine order. She said, "Surprise me," without even looking at the menu.

That pleased me.

I leaned in and said, "So, why the wait? You have avoided me for the entire week.”

She sipped her wine and then met my eyes. "Because I enjoy seeing the hunter grow hungry."

After a moment of inaction, I burst out laughing. "Touché."

Leaning forward, she let her perfume waft across the table. "Crane, are you still hungry?"

Heat stirred in my chest as I looked into her eyes. "Famished."

Twirling the stem of her wine glass between her fingers, Belle chuckled softly. She licked a dab of wine off her lip and added, "So, Crane, how many girls have you brought here?"

I smiled. "Just you."

She furrowed her brow. "Liar."

I laughed. "All well, perhaps one or two. However, none of them gave me anxiety.”

"Oh?" She leaned closer. "Are you anxious right now?"

Just a bit. However, I'd sooner die than acknowledge it.

I remarked, "I'm intrigued." "Most girls are not like you."

With her blond locks grazing her bare shoulder, Belle cocked her head. “Because I'm not, that is.”

Her eyes were keen, as if she were examining me, but her voice was sweet. Tearing me to pieces.

"How about you?" she inquired. "This month, how many hearts have you broken?"

I shrugged. "None that didn't request it."

She smiled a little. "You're sincere. Conceited. But be truthful.”

"I like to be confident."

Belle reached out and brushed her fingers across mine while laughing once more. She had a cool touch. Gentle.

She purred, "So, Mr. Confident, do you always get what you want?"

I met her look. "In due time."

Her breath caressed my neck as she leaned forward so closely. "And what are your current desires?"

"You."

There. That's what I said.

Belle remained unflinching. She sipped her drink carefully while leaning back. “Then, sweetie, finish your steak. It is still early in the evening.”

The remainder of the meal was a haze of laughter, joking, and the quiet heat that developed between us. She controlled the room rather than merely flirting. She had eyes just for me, and all the men stared.

"Come back to my place," she said as we got up to go.

My heart pounded.

"Take the lead."

Like her, her apartment was sophisticated, dark, and a little enigmatic.

The hallway was illuminated by candles. Jazz was playing softly in the background. The air was heavy with the smell of vanilla and something deeper, perhaps jasmine.

She pulled me against the door and kissed me before I could even process the details.

Her mouth was gentle yet firm. One button at a time, she unbuttoned my shirt with her hands sliding over my chest.

"You've shown patience," she said. "I want to play now."

I tried to kiss her again and mumbled, "I like the sound of that."

She shoved me back, though. "Not just yet."

I followed Belle to her bedroom. It had a faint golden light, silver drapes, and black silk.

She straddled my lap and forced me into bed. She grasped my hands as I sought her.

Her tone abruptly became stern as she warned, "Don't move."

I went cold.

She took out some black silk ties from a drawer.

With one eyebrow up, she questioned, "Do you trust me?"

I hesitated, but just a little. I couldn't say no because of my ego.

"I do now."

She smiled. "Well done, boy."

She blindfolded me after tying my wrists together above my head.

I sensed the change in the atmosphere. My chest swelled with her breath. Slowly, teasingly, her fingertips traced my skin.

Need made my body stiff.

"Belle," I uttered softly. "You are making me go crazy."

She gave a little laugh. "That's the strategy."

She leaned closer, and I felt the bed dip. Her breath was hot and playful as her lips touched my ear.

Then she said something that chilled me to the bone:

"Now, Crane... Let's experience what it's like to be played.”

My heart was racing.

"What?"

She tightened the blindfold before I could respond further. I was unable to se

e. Unable to move. My skin pricked.

There was a problem.

And I didn't feel in control for the first time in a long time.

“Now, Crane… let’s see how it feels when someone plays you.”