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than a little bit.
     
    “Maybe I start with you,” Fiona hissed.
     
    “Maybe I don’t believe you could.”
     
    Fiona let go of Gieo’s hands and sat back a
little on her lap. “You don’t even know me.”
     
    Gieo reached up, grabbed Fiona’s hands, and
replaced them in the pinning position above her head. “I do too,”
she protested. “I wrote an unofficial biography of you; sure,
nobody wanted to publish it, but I did do all the research.”
     
    Fiona restrained herself from pointing out
how crazy Gieo sounded; the phrase, ‘takes one to know one’
prevented her. “Okay, fine, you know me, but I don’t know you.”
     
    “I’m a Leo, I liked Korean boy bands when
they still existed, my favorite food is sushi, my favorite sushi is
yellow-tail, and I used to have a pug named Gizmo,” Gieo rattled
off quickly. “See, now you know me as well as anyone.”
     
    Fiona slid off Gieo’s lap and sat on the edge
of the bed. The pilot was confusing, paroxysmal, and irritating—all
of which would have been fine, if she also wasn’t attractive. Fiona
couldn’t rationalize her desire for Gieo as anything other than her
being the first woman she’d seen in ages that wasn’t both a
prostitute and straight; of course, there was a great deal more to
it that Fiona didn’t want to admit to herself regardless of how
aware of it she was.
     
    “But seriously, was being rich and famous
actually that bad?” Gieo asked.
     
    The part of Fiona’s brain most in charge of
impulse control never functioned correctly. Things easily jumped
from being thought about to being done. She called them chaos tics,
and she had been more than a little surprised to find most people
had them; the only difference was, most people didn’t scream
“FIRE!” in a crowded movie theater, shove people off curbs, or
throw drinks in peoples’ faces just because the thought occurred to
them. Fiona, of course, did all these things. More often than not,
a chaos tic of sorts passed through her mind and her body opted to
carry it out. She grabbed Gieo’s hand, flipped the pilot over onto
her stomach and straddled her lower back from behind. She deftly
removed her belt and bound Gieo’s hands to the wrought iron
headboard piping with it. When Gieo began to voice her objection,
Fiona shoved her face into the pillow resulting in a muffled stream
of what she guessed to be Korean swear words.
     
    Dodging Gieo’s clumsily kicked legs, Fiona
yanked down the back of the pilot’s riding pants to mid-thigh,
exposing her taut, little behind, lovely in black, cotton panties
with little cherries on them. Fiona marveled, if only for a moment,
how clean all of Gieo’s clothing was.
     
    Fiona brought her hand down hard on Gieo’s
behind with a resounding slap. Gieo’s kicking ceased. Fiona swatted
her again and again with her left hand, still holding Gieo’s face
into the pillow with her right. All the fight immediately drained
from the little pilot. Red, angry hand prints rose on the soft
curve of her flesh around the black edges of her underwear. Fiona,
thinking she’d taught Gieo a proper lesson, released the pilot’s
purple hair.
     
    Gieo’s head rolled far enough to the side for
her to look up at Fiona through sparkling eyes. She began to squirm
a little against the belt holding her hands, making the leather
creak. It took a few moments for Fiona to realize it wasn’t actual
struggling against bonds, but something far more sexual.
     
    “Fuck me, please,” Gieo whispered.
     
    Fiona glanced from Gieo’s pleading eyes to
her behind, writhing against the pants pulled partially down,
lewdly pushing up for attention. She couldn’t take her eyes off the
beautifully curved ass. She was breathing heavily, her heart
pounding, and, for some strange reason, her mouth began watering.
She brought her gun hand down hard on Gieo’s right cheek with a
loud, satisfying thwack.
     
    “Or you can keep spanking me,” Gieo moaned.
“That works for me