I slammed the door behind me, the echo reverberating through the cavernous living room. My heels clicked on the hardwood as I strode towards the elegantly set dining table, where my dinner companion, Marcus, awaited. His eyes flickered up from his phone, a mix of apprehension and anticipation etched on his pale face.
“Late, as always,” I quipped, slipping into my seat with a studied languor. “I hope the wine has been keeping you… entertained.”
Marcus hastily set aside his device, a weak smile gracing his lips. I watched him, a superior smirk playing at the corners of my mouth. Men like him were always so eager to please, to curry favor with their betters. And oh, how I loved to play them like fiddles.
As the waiter poured our respective glasses of Cabernet, I leaned in, my cleavage barely contained by the daring neckline of my emerald silk dress. “So, darling Marcus, tell me… Are you prepared for the main course tonight?”
He gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly. “Of course, Winnie. I’ve been looking forward to it.”
I chuckled, low and throaty, my gaze raking over him with disdain. “I do hope you’re not expecting much. After all, a man of your… modest endowments is hardly equipped to satisfy a woman of my desires.”
Marcus’s face turned a deep scarlet, his fists clenching beneath the table. “Winnie, please, you know I’ll do my best—”
“Oh, I have no doubt you’ll ‘try,’ ” I interrupted, rolling my eyes. “But let’s not delude ourselves, shall we? Your pathetic little toy won’t even come close to filling me.”
I signaled the waiter for the check, tossing a generous tip on the plate before standing. Marcus fumbled to his feet, clearly flustered and embarrassed.
“Let’s not linger,” I suggested, threading my arm through his. “I have no intention of being further disappointed by your inadequacies tonight. But perhaps another time, you can demonstrate your… skills.”
As we exited the restaurant, the cool evening air providing a welcome respite from the suffocating atmosphere of male inadequacy, I couldn’t help but amuse myself with the thought of Marcus’s futile attempts to please me. Poor, deluded soul. He had no idea the heights of debasement and degradation to which I could subject him, should I choose to deploy my full arsenal of feminine wiles and cruel amusement.
Smirking to myself, I led him to my waiting car, already planning the next installment of our twisted game. The evening had barely begun, and I was ravenous for more of Marcus’s misery. After all, a woman as supreme as I deserved only the best in tormenting her playthings.