Flip of the Coin

“I suggest we flip a coin,” she told the stranger as they slipped into the bar’s darkest and most remote booth.

“Oh? To decide what?” He slid close to her.

“Who’s going to run the show.” She said, fluttering her eyelashes.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow you.”

“Well,” she said, “who’s going to be the dominant one tonight?”

“Do you mean sex?”

“I didn’t just stop in here for a drink.” The corners of his mouth turned up as she presented her glass to him. “Cheers.”

“How do you know I’m not a cop?” 

“I like what George Carlin said about sex. He never understood why something that was perfectly legal to do for free became a crime if one paid for it. That’s not how it works for golf. Do you play golf?” Her hand rested on the inside of his thigh. 

“Poorly.”

“Maybe you’re using the wrong club. Like too short a shaft.” She moved her hand to cover his crotch. “No. I guess not. Did you know this one is getting stiffer? That might improve your game.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Maybe I’m a cop.”

Her hand went lower. “Some duffers blame it on the ball. Do you have a favorite?”

He swallowed hard. “No.”

She squeezed. “Maybe one of these would make your game better. Maybe not. Personally, I like them both, so I’d just pluck one out of the bag to play.” He took a long swig. She smiled, “I’m not wearing a bra. Would you like to test the merchandise?”

The man looked around, then placed his over her breast, cupping it on the outside of the blouse. She gave him a half smile. “I prefer skin to skin.” 

“Okay, what’s the price?”

“I don’t do this for money. It’s partly an evolutionary biological necessity.”

He withdrew his hand, and his forehead furrowed. 

She started to lightly rub the fly of his pants. “It’s the Coolidge Effect. You appear to be an educated man. Do you know what that is?”

“I think so. It’s a biological phenomenon seen in animals, where animals get a renewed sexual interest whenever presented with a new mate even if there are still available prior sex partners.”

“You got it.”

The man reached for her chest, going under the blouse to cup her breast. “Squeeze it hard. I like that.” He did. She kept rubbing. “Pinch the nipple, although I like it more when you suck.” The man stroked the nipple into a hard erection, then pinched. She clutched her fingers. “Your golf club is strong enough to play a round. Better flip the coin.”

“Are you single?”

“Don’t worry. My husband’s out of town on business and won’t be home until noon tomorrow.”

“We can’t play here,” he said.

“I know a discrete little place about a block away. It’s a dungeon with private rooms. Pay in cash. No names. We can walk.”

“A dungeon?”

“A fantasy play place, where you can role-play. You need to flip the coin because I switch.”

“Switch?”

“Yeah. I can be either dominant or submissive. It’s only playing.”

He stopped massaging her breast. “Tell me a little more about this dungeon place.”

“Look, it’s just a place to play scenes. We pick the scene. There are what some people call erotic toys and furniture tailored to the scene we tell them we want.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, the usual bondage props, suspensions, shackles, spreader bars for the men, St. Andrew’s crosses, stocks, impact play toys, and even costumes to make it an interesting experience.”

“What does your husband do?”

“Bruno? He never tells me. Says I shouldn’t know.”

“The bartender told me to be careful of you because he thinks your husband is dangerous and connected to the cartels or the mafia, something like that.”

She squeezed him, and, still holding tight, finished her drink. “Do you believe everything you hear?”

“Not everything.”

“Good. This is part evolutionary biological and part psychological necessity and is always fun. Try it. You’ll like it. It’s only for tonight.”

His brows drew together. A lopsided grin twisted his mouth to the side. “And if I say yes?”

“Got a coin?”

The man reached into his pocket and came up with a quarter. “Will this do?”

“Yeah. Flip the coin. Your coin. You flip. No call. Let it land on the table. If it’s tails, obviously, that’s me. Either way, you’ll get some tail tonight, but the coin decides whether you tie me up or I kick your nuts before we screw.”

“I gather you do this often.”

“Occasionally. When Coolidge moves me. Or, you might say, when I get horny.”

“What about your other lovers?”

“I wouldn’t call them lovers. They’re more like playmates. I like variety.” The man gave her a puzzled look. “Okay, mister, I like to screw. But I only like to screw a guy once and then move on to fresh meat. No repeats. No regular fuck buddies. To be clear, this will be a one-night stand, but not even all night—just one session, one scene. Now flip the damn coin.”

“Do you ever see your former playmates?”

“No. They all seem to disappear shortly after they boink me. I guess they find newer things to do. Now flip the damn coin.”

“Will I disappear, too?”

“Flip the coin, or I’ll go find another playmate.”

“I got your name from somebody who wants to remain anonymous. The same person told me I’d find you on odd occasions at this bar. That’s how I got to know the bartender. I dropped in from time to time, and we chatted.”

“What did he tell you?” Her hand withdrew, and her face became stern.

“Nothing much. But, after I described you, he said you visited once in a while, not regularly, and he thought maybe you were a hooker, but he didn’t know. So I probed him discretely, but I always came up with a blank. He really doesn’t know much. But he was wrong about the hooker part.”

“I don’t charge. I do it for my pleasure.”

“Afterwards, to make sure the guy doesn’t kiss and tell, what happens to him?”

“Stop talking and flip the coin.”

“I think I’ll pass,” he said as he rose to leave. “I’m investigating the murders of three of your former playmates. I don’t want to join them.”