Vignette: The Key

I see her at the sandwich shop quite often, and I can never take my eyes off her.  Her presence is commanding.  In business attire, she is always professional, yet feminine.  She usually wears a business suit and skirt, or a blouse and slacks on Fridays.   I assume her office has a “Casual Friday” policy.    Her penchant for black is undeniable, as is her willingness to feature her amble bosom prominently in any outfit she chooses.  Her makeup, always flawless, further demonstrates that she is a woman and wants everyone to know it.

She enters alone, as usual, and orders her lunch.  We have never been introduced, yet I could place her order myself, if asked.  A garden salad with broiled Teriyaki chicken strips, a cup of the soup of the day, and a bottle of lemon-lime flavored water.  She is dependable.

When she is in the room, my eyes are drawn like a moth to flame.  The pull is unrelenting.  It’s not her piercing gaze, her perfectly formed features, or even her voluptuous body.  It’s something odd, really.  It’s the key. 

She wears a key around her neck, on a plain gold chain.  It dangles, just above her perfect cleavage.  It’s always there, no matter the outfit.  I can’t take my eyes off it.  She began wearing it about six months ago.  It’s been there ever since.

It’s not some tiny little decorative gold thing.  It’s a real key.  It would fit a cylindrical lock.  Not a big one, like on a Kryptonite bike lock.  It’s smaller around, built for a smaller lock.  It seems exactly the same size as the key to my chastity tube, for example.

I’m glad she was looking the other way when I first saw it, those months ago.  My shock was, no doubt, comically evident.  I managed to compose my face before she glanced my way.  Then, as now, she saw right through me.  I don’t exist in her mysterious world.  Invisible.  I might as well be a piece of furniture

. 

The shop is crowded, today.  She sits at the table directly across from mine, as I eat my ham sandwich and read my book.   She sets her water bottle down and waits for her meal to be brought to her table.  My cock throbs, uncontrollably, in its stainless steel prison.   Without a girlfriend, and without prospects, I still lock myself up.  It’s just something I need.  The key is at home, now, though, sometimes I mail it to myself, or leave it in my office desk for the weekend.  I long for the day when some woman might take control.  For now, I lock myself.  This time around, it’s been just over two weeks.

As I sit eating my sandwich, trying not to stare, I hear her phone ring.  The ring tone has a distinctive sound.  It’s from a Warner Brother’s cartoon.  I hear Porky Pig saying “Ba-be, ba-be, ba-be, that’s all folks!”   The phone rings a few times.  She ignores it, reading the paper, still waiting for her salad.

A moment later, it rings again.  “Ba-be, ba-be..”  She snatches it from her table, and answers angrily “What?”

I’m stunned, though I don’t look up from the Stephen King novel I’m pretending to read nearby.  I’ve never heard her speak in that tone before.

She listens a moment, then asks, sarcastically, “Well, you gave it to me, didn’t you?”  She waits again as the person on the other end speaks.  

I hazard a glance in her direction.  The newspaper in her hand is ignored.  She’s staring off into space out the window, a devilish grin on her face.  She listens to the phone for a moment, and glances at her fingernails, telegraphing her disinterest in whatever answer she’s receiving. 

A moment later, the grin turns to a frown.  She interjects.  “Hey, now listen Bucko!  I dumped you because of those emails I found on your computer.  It’s clear you wanted out, and I gave it to you. “ She paused to draw a breath.  I saw a little flush coming to her cheeks, as she appeared to hear the caller arguing. “Silence!” she barked, in a loud whisper.  Her eyes flared with anger.  “I was going to put it in the mail to you this afternoon, but since you’re being such a prick right now, I’ve reconsidered!”

My gaze was riveted on her.  It must have been obvious, as she turned away from the window, sensing my attention.  She looked directly at me as she spoke.  I wanted to tear my attention away, but I couldn’t.  Our eyes were locked.  

Without lowering her voice, she continued.  “I’ve wasted five months of my life with you.   So here’s the deal.  In five months, I’ll send it back.”  Unconsciously, she reached up and took the key around her neck between her fingers and fondled it.  Her eyes remained on mine, but my eyes shifted, inexorably to the key.  She spoke clearly, knowing I heard every word.  “From now on, every time I hear your ring tone on my phone, I’m adding a month.  If I ever see you again, I’m tossing it in the river.”

With that, she hung up the phone, looking intently at me, as I stared at the key.  She held the phone in the air between us, and began smiling.  She waited, without speaking, expecting the inevitable.  “Ba-bee, ba-bee, ba-bee…..”.  

She punched the button, grinning, while still looking directly at me.  “Six months” she said, distractedly, and hung up again.  She set the phone on the table, this time, not expecting another call.  “He’s really not very bright.”  She said, addressing me this time.

My cock was straining hard in its cage, now, and my eyes were still riveted to the key.  After a moment of silence, I realized she had just spoken to me.

I jerked in my seat as if punched.  “Oh, sorry Ma’am” I muttered, noticing my voice was shaky.  “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”  I tore my eyes from the key, and looked back at the forgotten book in my hands.  I couldn’t seem to focus on the words.  My face flushed with a cross of embarrassment and arousal.  I tried, unsuccessfully, to read for a few seconds.

I sensed her eyes still boring into me.  I glanced up.   She was still staring, rubbing the key, absently, between her fingertips.  She was smiling, but her eyes….  So intense!  My heart fluttered.

The End