I swear I can hear her breath growing a little ragged as her eyes shift to my tattooed hands. She stares at them for several seconds, then shakes her head a little, stretches her neck, and writes:Genital penetration or stimulation by use of fingers and hands.
“What a fancy way to put it,” I tease. “Ah, and kissing.”
Her heated gaze lifts to me, and I suspect she’ll tell me that’s not allowed due to some weird idea that kissing would be more intimate than me being balls deep in her pussy. She proves me wrong, though. “It’s such a mundane thing that I considered it a given.”
“Kissing isn’t mundane. Not when I do it.”
Something flickers in her pupils, and I bite the inside of my cheek. “I noticed,” she admits with a small voice. “There’s a mention of it in the third clause.”
Since I’m heading there, I quickly skim over clause two, which is about contract revisions. Clause three, titled “Health Requirements”, stipulates that we both have to produce an STI result that isn’t more than two weeks old at the time of the contract’s signature. I take the test results out of my jacket pocket and hand them to her. After a quick scan of it, she slips it into her folder.
Then, the bit about kissing she spoke of. “If one of the parties suffers from oral herpes, kissing on the herpes-receptive parts of the body shall be excluded from the proceedings,” I read aloud, not minding whoever can hear us. She does though, her eyes darting left and right. “I don’t have herpes,” I explain, setting the sheet down again to drink from my beer.
“Perfect.”
“Since kissing is already included, that leaves us with an empty slot, doesn’t it?”
“We don’thaveto fill it. I can just cross it out,” she says, picking up her cocktail.
“But what would be the fun in that? Is anal off the table?”
How she nearly chokes on her drink tells me I might have gone too far. She coughs away the discomfort and shakes her head vigorously. “We’re absolutely not engaging in that.”
“Hmm…”
Before I can come up with something else to put in there, she draws a straight line to cross out the empty slot.Killjoy.
“Clause four,” she spurs on. “Contraception method. The participants are required to produce contraception to the best of their abilities.”
I read on when she stops, and a smile tugs at the corner of my lips. She’s on the pill, and I am tasked with providing one or more condoms that “must be the right fit, unexpired, and unaltered”. I’m free to pick whichever brand I favor as long as “their products are reputedly qualitative”.
Is it weird that this is working for me? It’s giving me insight into her clever mind, and I kind of like it. I’ve never done this before, even though it’s just sex.
The following clause is in case the condom rips. It demands that we both get tested again and stipulates that she’ll take Plan B. I have nothing to add, actually reassured to read this. I’m not about to have a kid with a perfect stranger, and it looks like she’s just as opposed to it.
Clause six though, poses a problem for me. “While consent to engage in coitus is given at the moment of this contract’s signature, consent can be retracted at any point, even during intercourse,” I read out loud. “Well, that’s a given,” I say with a shrug before I continue reading. “If consent is retracted, the participants must stop whichever activity they are engaged in at the moment of the retraction. The words ‘no’ and ‘stop’ shall serve as indicators of consent withdrawal.” I wince, again sensing her inexperience with all this. “Those aren’t good words.”
I might as well have grown a third head with how she looks at me. Even though I know I’m right, her eyes make me feel stupider than I ever have.
“I disagree,” she says. “They leave no room for doubt and couldn’t be clearer.”
I cross my arms and lean back in my seat. I guess she’ll just have to learn it the hard way. “So, I am to stop everything I’m doing the moment you say ‘no’ or ‘stop?’”
“That’s how consent works, yes.”
“Alright. I’ll comply.”
“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
What’s hard is my dick. I’m already imagining ways to make her realize her mistake. Little Miss Know-It-All will learn a lesson whenever I get to fuck her.
We review the few clauses left, one of which is a basic NDA, and then she requests, “Your full legal name, please.”
“Jacob Daniel Clarke.”
She quirks an inquisitive, perfectly arched brow at me, aware of the fun twist. An amused grin tugs at the corner of my lips. “Yes, I got the ladder because of it. Might have just done a magic cross otherwise.”
The way she squirms on her chair has me holding back a smirk. God, I can’t wait to fuck her.
