Have Your Cake And Eat It Too.


I met Mr.Ha Ha at The Copley, in The Oak Room. Best raw bar in town. He was already waiting for me, along with the raw sampler I had requested and a Grey Goose on ice with freshly ground pepper and lemon. I was wearing my smartest early 1980's black Norma Kamali two piece suit-very fitted and 40's girl detective. Shiny, licorice black peek a boo pumps, black stockings with a seam up the back and a long strand of black pearls. Damn I looked good. I floated in on my customary cloud of Joy and quickly adjusted the yellow daffodil that I had pinned to my hair, as I paused in the doorway. I saw a man rise from a table at the back. I was to vain to wear my glasses and too careless for contacts so I had no idea what he looked like until I was almost on top of him. Not that I wouldn't have minded. Once I had him in focus I could see he was uncommonly attractive in a dapper, calculated fashion. We were a matched set! He smiled in a wry kind of way and drew out my chair.

Mr. HaHa was a comedy writer for a very well known, almost cult like show. He was a private referral and had been passed onto to me by a super high end "Professional Girlfriend" named Fee. Mr. HaHa was one of her steadies but she flipped him over to me because he liked to mix it up on occasion. He spread his fingers and made an expansive gesture with his hands toward the sumptuous spread. I took to him immediately. I knew I was being charmed and I liked it very much. I dug in with relish and he watched me with obvious enjoyment as I tongued the oysters out of their salty beds.

The first half of the evening went by quickly, in the way that it does when you are having an uncommonly good time. Mr. Ha Ha told wonderful stories of Hollywood insider observations, snide and hilarious tales of egos and vicious grudges. It seemed the Kings and Queens of comedy were not so funny when they were off camera. He made them out to be a competitive lot, with a no rest for the weary, dreary Yankee work ethic.

I found myself flirting with Mr. HaHa when I should have been slowly turning up the Dominant Power. I sensed he knew this,as he was a little to playful. Bordering on disrespectful. As our waiter walked by, I abruptly waved him down. He sidled up to the table, hunched shouldered and timid. Christ, I thought, another submissive. I asked for the check, glanced at it and slid it toward Mr. HaHa without looking at him. He paid while I took the elevator up alone, so I could be in the room ahead of him.

My challenge was to create a scene only with what was on hand at the Copley. I arrived with no props and I was to remain fully dressed. As I walked down the elegant hallway to his room, I noticed a tray that had been left outside a door for room service. On it was a huge slice of beautiful chocolate cake, hardly touched. There was also a small white vase filled with a handful of daisy's. I bent down and took it. As soon as Mr.Ha Ha entered the room, I dimmed the lights and ordered him to strip and to bend over the arm of the big over stuffed chair.

He seemed a bit taken aback and his easy smile faltered for a moment but he did as I asked. I took a towel and held it under the bath tub spigot until it was almost sopping-then I twisted it semi dry. I wound it up tightly as any sexually repressed homosexual athlete in the locker room could do, and bought it down with a resounding crack across his ass. I did it again and again, until red welts were rising up on his buttocks like a tequila sun rise. He stalwartly withstood it all, legs braced and his head hanging. Finally, I could lift my arm no more.

Instead, I turned my attention to the vase of mixed daisies and chuckled to myself. I told him to hold his cheeks open. He did so while glancing over his shoulder at me and biting his lower lip. I took one daisy and probed until it slid into his ass. I did it with a second, then a third. I did not stop until he had a blooming bouquet of flowers, in a festive burst, clenched between his cheeks. I was delighted and I told him so. I walked over to the door and held it wide open after I made a great show of checking the area to make sure it was empty. I told him to crawl out into the hotel hallway. He scrambled eagerly toward his own self destructive tendencies as I pointed him toward the slab on chocolate cake, still on the floor on a tray. I strode behind him and used my new trick of shoving a head into food. I had taken Mr.Ha Ha's devastatingly appealing face and ground it deep into the desert until his nostrils must have been filled.

While he was collecting himself and wiping cake from his eyes, I almost skipped back to the room. I turned and saw Mr. Ha Ha' stricken expression so before I closed the door on the poor bastard and locked him out, I blew him a kiss.

"Good night"!

I shut the door and pressed my back against it and cackled wildly. Seldom have I seen anything so ridiculous-his image was stenciled into my mind. A fit naked man,his face a mask of cake,contorted with horror,his back a testimony to kink and his ass stuffed with wild flowers.

In a New York minute, he was scratching at the door and whispering frantically. At this point Mr.Ha Ha was trying to rein in his rising hysteria. I watched him silently through the peep hole and I was elated because I knew I was making him feel something-an extreme of emotion.

"Mistress, Mistress please let me in! Mistress please!" he kept hissing over and over. Instead of answering him, I dialed room service and loudly placed an order for a piece of that excellent chocolate cake and a glass of cold milk. Mr. Ha Ha began slapping the door with the flat of his hand in earnest and his begging escalated.

It was just a fear of discovery and public humiliation. He would get over it.