I Won



Dara tried to plead her case.  “Mac, you aren’t really going to hold me to-”

        “The food is just about ready,” the Police Commissioner informed his fiancée.  He paid no mind to her attempt to persuade him.  “I will give you about twenty minutes to get changed and then I will expect you downstairs.”  With a smug grin of triumph, the amused man virtually bounded down the carpeted staircase.

Dara made as if to throw the tiny item at the back of Mac’s head.  She did not know just which frustrated her most – that she was obligated to comply with Mac’s choice of ‘compensation’, or that she was forced to do so because she had lost the bet by failing to answer a question whose answer she knew as surely as her own name.

And of course Mac would not think about making it easy for her.  Dara sighed and squared her shoulders.  Never let it be said that Dara Jensen did not honor her word.

“Eighteen minutes and counting!”  Mac’s voice wafted up from downstairs.  Dara cut her eyes his direction and retrieved the remainder of her ‘punishment’, then went into the bathroom and changed.

# # # # #

Despite her resolution not to reveal her irritation, Dara could not stifle the cutting glance she sent Mac’s way.  Slowly she pirouetted around as Mac had laughingly instructed her.

“Verrrry nice,” he drawled.

“I am happy that you are pleased.”  The way Dara voiced the sentiment through clenched teeth cast doubts upon the words’ sincerity.  Mac chose to overlook it.

“Now,” Dara forced out, “if you will go and make yourself comfortable, I can begin to serve you.”

Mac kicked off his shoes and flopped down onto the oversized sofa.  For several moments he searched the sofa cushions.  “Dara, I can’t find the television remote.”

From the kitchen Dara sighed.  “Please, allow me.”  She pasted a bright smile upon her face and moved enticingly out of the kitchen into the bright, airy den where Mac sat waiting.

A quick glance told Dara that the missing remote was in its usual place on the low shelf beneath the 45 inch flat-screen television.  She made a beeline for it, striding comfortably and confidently on the stiletto heels that accompanied the scant attire she wore.  Dara’s lips twitched with restrained amusement at the prospect of turning the tables on her smug fiancé.  She bent and retrieved the remote control, being particularly careful to position herself for Mac’s optimal viewing pleasure. 

His harsh intake of breath was satisfying.  Dara wiped all traces of emotion from her face and turned toward Mac.  “Here it is,” she said simply, extending the remote his way.  “Will there be anything else before I get the food?”

Mac shook his head.  He could only watch open-mouthed as the dark beauty turned and made her way back to the kitchen.   Though he had chosen her particular attire in anticipation of her discomfort, Dara now seemed as comfortable in the tiny little Playgirl Bunny outfit as her own skin.  The white tuft of cottontail attached to the tiny black thong mocked him with every sway of her hips.

        The Commissioner shifted uncomfortably against the sudden tightness of his slacks.  Just who, he wondered, had lost this bet?