(for info on Flash Fiction Friday, see supplicium post mortem)
His door was unlocked. I found him in his leather chair, smoking and watching a DVD. Keanu Reeves was moving in slo-mo. It was too warm.
"The Matrix again?" I said. "And what happened to your air conditioner? It's fucking hot in here."
He’d been reading: "Cryptography and Steganography: Hidden Messages." There was a notebook with numbers and repeated letters. Cryptography? Hidden messages? With me, there was no secret code: I was crazy for him.
"The air conditioner’s broken. Deal with it." His voice was cold. "Get over here and get on your knees." So I wasn't getting a kiss. In fact, his look seemed contemptuous. My knees felt weak, and I was scared. I hesitated and thought, Is he playing?
I took too long. He was up out of the chair, striding over and grabbing my hair while undoing his pants. He dragged me over, pushed me down and yanked out his cock. He shoved it into my mouth, hard. I gagged, then settled down.
"Isn't this why you're here, Slut?" I glanced up. He exhaled smoke at me, and then slapped my face. "Get me off." Another slap. Tears filled my eyes as my pussy contracted with desire. Yes, this was why I was here. He would slap me more, probably beat me. We'd probably fuck for a long time.
Later we'd get lovey-dovey. Maybe he’d explain this code thing. Right now, there was nothing cryptic about what he wanted.