Force a standoff

Shit! I should have paid closer attention to what she was typing on that computer. Turning on my phone flashlight so I can read the fine print, I discover it's just as bad as I feared. The bearer of the card--in pursuit of sexual fulfillment--can demand the complete subservience of any adult male for up to a week at a time, with the same stipulation as my card forbidding actual physical harm. Otherwise, there are no restrictions on time or place.

My knees tremble, and I struggle to stand upright. More than just about anyone--other than Lilah herself--I understand the seriousness of this writ, how it's backed by the force of the law.

"Doesn't feel great, now does it?" she asks smugly.

"Are you...going to use that on me?" I gasp.

"Nah, you're not really my type." She returns the card to her purse. "Also..." Lilah jabs her finger in my chest. "I'm not a massive pervert like you. This is more insurance--withdraw your demand for sexual satisfaction from me, and I won't have to pull the trigger."

"Yes, yes, I'll do that." I draw in a breath. "I'm sorry."

"I don't believe you," she says simply. "It's easy to be repentant when the shoe's on the other foot."

"I could have taken whatever I wanted...before. But I held off because I was hoping for something else--I don't know--a real connection."

Her face softens slightly. "That's true. But, like I said, not my type. And to be blunt, you're not going to be any girl's type if you open by demanding they fuck you with the full coercive power of the state."

"Yeah...I know."

"So, you're going to be a good boy now, Jake. Right? Because I plan to have my ear to the ground, and if I hear you've used that card on someone else, well..." She pats her purse. "Do we understand one another?"

"We do." My shoulders slump.

She pats my arm reassuringly. "After our little talk at the cafe--I don't think you're really a bad guy. I've dated far worse, personality-wise. You just let this whole thing overwhelm you. But I bet there are plenty of girls out there that would go for you. The real you."

"I...I just can't talk to them. Every time I try, I stumble over my words, make a fool of myself, get dismissed and rejected."

"But you've been talking to me just fine, this whole evening."

"I have, haven't I?" I consider it for a moment. "But I think that's because of the card--the confidence it gave me--knowing I could always fall back on direct demands if I screwed everything up."

"Sounds like you need to figure out how to have that confidence without the assurance of the card."

"Yeah..." An utterly mad impulse seizes me. "Maybe...you could help me with that? Practice? Or something? I don't know."