Nope.
Not me.
I was not that girl.
Except, I was.
Though I did try to convince myself that it was because I had sushi the night before. But, let's face it, there was no such thing as too much sushi. Especially if it included BYOB red wine and hilarious talks about how my girl Jenny's new boyfriend has a food-in-your-teeth phobia. Apparently, he kept spare strings of floss in his wallet in case of emergencies. He was too good for twisted up pieces of napkins like the rest of us.
But I had decided to sit this one out.
Like some pathetic, lovesick teenager.
DOM hadn't called last night. And his only text so far today was to remind me, like he loved to do, that my torment could be over so easily.
Ha.
Easily.
Maybe for him.
Maybe for people who were experienced with casual kinky sex.
Hell, I wasn't even really experienced with casual sex, period. Or kink at all.
This was the very definition of nerve-racking for me.
I was split right in two - one side completely and utterly terrified of taking this further, the other side begging me to take the leap of faith.
I had thought that some time with DOM on the phone would ease the anxiety, the insecurity that I was feeling. But each time I said sir, I blushed. When he talked about owning my pussy, I felt girlish and inexperienced in comparison to him.
I knew that there would come a day when he lost patience, when he would be sick of these games over the phone. He was going to want to meet with me. And if I didn't show, he was going to sever ties.
The fact that the idea of that sent a pang through my stomach, yeah, that was something I was trying to come to terms with as well.
I was attached to him.
Already.
Without meeting him.
In my defense, he had been a daily presence for months. And not just sexually. He wanted to know about my day, about my job, about my nights out. In turn, I got next to no information about his day, his job, or his nights out. But I figured that was just how this power share went.
He gave me his time, his attention.
And I was beginning to not only enjoy that but look forward to it, rely on it.
I would be freaked out by my level of attachment if I didn't know that one of my deepest, most fulfilling friendships was exclusively online with a girl I met on an art message board when we were both in high school. It was amazing the bonds you could make with someone who was literally half a world away. She was married now and carting around three children under the age of five. We didn't talk as often as we used to, but each time we did, it was like no time had passed.
So I understood that bonds - lasting, deep bonds - could be built via emails and messages.
I wasn't worried about it because of how I felt, but because I knew that this was not a situation where my attachment would be welcome.
I was under no illusions when it came to DOM.
This was not a relationship in any way shape or form.
I would not be finding my happily ever after through an anonymous D/s website.
This would be a fling.
A possibly world-changing fling, but a fling nonetheless.
Getting attached would only lead to heartache down the line.
Breaking through an endless swirling, useless barrage of thoughts, my phone screamed from the nightstand where I left it on the charger. Just in case he called.
I rushed through my apartment, sliding my finger across the screen just in time.
"Hello?"
"Tomorrow, Adley."
My stomach dropped.
Here it was. My ultimatum.
I wasn't ready for it.
But there was no stopping it.
"Tomorrow?" I asked, feeling like I was choking on my heart it was so lodged up in my throat.
"Dinner, Adley. Breathe. Just dinner. You need to spend time with me face-to-face to make your mind up. I am giving you that opportunity." There was a short pause before he - almost begrudgingly - added, "I don't take subs out to dinner. This is a good chance for you. Eight-thirty. Masa Sushi."
I felt myself jolt at that, feeling like that was a little too perfect. Even though there was clearly no way he could have known I turned down sushi tonight to wait to hear from him without having to explain to my girlfriends why a man was calling me in the middle of a night out, a man I had told them exactly nothing about... when I told them everything normally.
"Adley?"
"I'm here," I said, my voice small.
"You can do it," he assured me. "Put on a black dress, heels, get a cab, and meet me at Masa at eight-thirty for dinner. Nothing else. You can do that. No doubt you have had dinner with new men before in your life."
That was true.
First dates while always a little nerve-racking, were pretty painless overall. That was all this would be. A date.
A date with a Dom who was the star of all my fantasies, but a date nonetheless.
"Okay," I agreed before I could overthink my way out of it.
"Okay. There will be a package waiting for you at the same store I sent you to for the plug."
"A package?" I repeated, stiffening. If this was just dinner, why did I need something from the sex store.
"Pick up the package. You make the decision with what is inside. Understood? This night is about choices. Whatever ones you make are yours alone. But trust me, pet, the right decision is meeting me, trusting me, and letting me show you everything you have wanted, and have always been denied."
With that, he hung up.
I sank down onto my bed, taking a deep breath.
I was either going to meet DOM for sushi, or I was going to have to accept him disappearing from my life.
Both options came with their own set of consequences I didn't want to face.
I climbed into bed, wondering which would be harder to face.
Then I didn't sleep.
Because, how could I?
As soon as it was open, I dragged my overly-tired and highly-caffeinated self down to the store to pick up my package, having to force myself to keep the lid shut on the cab ride back to my apartment where I finally threw it open and found... panties?
Just panties?
The box fell forgotten onto my coffee table as I pulled out the sexy, but simple, black lace cheeky panties, finding as my hand grabbed them that they were not, in fact, just panties.
Oh, no.
There was a vibrator in the crotch.
Seeing as the box did not have the remote, I could only assume that it was tucked in DOM's pocket.
It shouldn't have but absolutely did send a shiver of anticipation through my system, making me once again aware of the unfulfilled need inside, in how embarrassing it would be to come in a crowded restaurant.
If he would let me.
Which, as his track record went, he likely wouldn't.
I took them to my bedroom, laying them out on the edge of my bed. An option. A choice. Then I went into my closet, digging around for my best black dress and heels, putting them down next to the panties as well.
As I went about my day, answering emails, tweaking the layout on an brochure, creating an email campaign template for an existing client, anytime I walked to refill my coffee or make something to eat, I passed the hallway that led into my bedroom, the door left open, the outfit daring me to do it, to be brave just this once, to take a chance I knew down to my marrow that I did want to take.
At six, I called it a day with work, charged up my phone, and hopped in the shower.
As I got out and stared at my makeup, I figured... I could go. I could get in a cab and go to the restaurant. From there, I could make my decision. I could stand outside until I chickened out and went home, or found my lady balls and went inside.
By eight-fifteen, I was in my new panties, my black dress, and heels. My hair was dried and shiny. My makeup was minimal, but there was s
ome effort made. And then I was in a cab on my way to Manhattan.
I knew Masa.
I knew it because my friends and I had splurged exactly once before deciding that there were plenty of other perfectly good places to eat that wouldn't cost us almost two-hundred dollars a person.
The cab pulled up slightly like I asked, dropping me off out front of a Dunkin Donuts where I took a few deep breaths before forcing myself to walk closer, thankful that there was a mostly brick front so no one inside - least of all DOM - could see me standing outside, battling myself about going in.
After five minutes, I turned, deciding to go get myself some coffee, forget this night ever happened, then head home.
"Adley."
The sound of his voice saying my name, this time without a phone as a barrier, sent a shiver through me even as my adrenaline kicked into high gear, making my heart race, making my brain race in a dozen different directions at once.
I could feel him behind me, close, close enough that I could feel his body heat, but far enough that he wasn't directly touching me.
He was tall.
That was the first thing that my brain registered over the way my blood was swooshing in my temples.
I mean it said he was tall in his profile. But, in my experience, guys always added a few inches much in the way many women tried to shave off a few pounds when asked. As if when you met them, they wouldn't learn the truth.
But I was in heels, and his head was still higher than mine, his voice coming from on top of head when he spoke.
"Turn around," he demanded. Or maybe 'commanded' was a better word. Because the words had weight behind it.
And, for whatever reason, I did. I turned around to face him.
He seemed to move back a step as I turned, putting him about two feet from me, allowing me to get a good look at him for the first time.
I'm not too proud to admit that there had been many nights on the phone with him when I had dirty fantasies about the only image I had of him - something that was hardly more than an outline of what seemed to be an attractive man.
Seeing him face-to-face I couldn't for the life of me imagine why he chose to hide in shadows.
He was, simply put, the most gorgeous man I had ever seen.
Men's cologne ads should have starred him.
They would have sold out in minutes.
He was the cliched tall, dark, and handsome, but with perfectly chiseled features, strong dark brows, full lashes around deep eyes, with his dark hair cut in a style that was likely called I'm a busy man who needs to look good without actually having to put any effort into styling my hair.
His body was the sort meant for hanging the seemingly expensive charcoal suit he had on, wide of shoulder, fit down the center. He kept the look severe - in a way I thought suited him - with a matching matte dress shirt, no tie, with one button open at the throat. Though it didn't seem to be an aversion to accessories to go without the tie seeing as there were cufflinks at his wrists, and a white gold watch peeking out of his sleeve.
Everything about him demanded you take notice.
And while the way he dressed certainly helped that, I was inclined to say it was his dominance that he wore like an aura around him that made everyone look in his direction.
"You're late."
"I was early," I countered, only realizing after it left my mouth that I probably wasn't supposed to argue. I had no idea what level of protocol DOM liked to hold his subs to. Was I supposed to just be submissive during sex acts, all the time? I had no idea. For as much as we talked, there were big holes in my understanding of this relationship. I guess maybe that was reason enough that this dinner was necessary - to hammer out the details.
"Do you still want to leave?" he asked, gesturing out toward where I was walking when he came out.
There was a hint of cockiness in the question, like he knew that I wasn't going to turn back now. I guess he was used to women falling at his feet. Both literally and figuratively. And, yes, he was insanely, unnecessarily good-looking. But I had never been a woman to go all weak-kneed just from good looks.
"I don't know," I admitted.
He nodded a bit at that, tucking his hands in his pockets.
I didn't see it coming.
I should have.
My mind simply got distracted by other things.
And I forgot.
But then the vibrator buzzed unexpectedly to life, catching me completely off-guard, making me let out a choked whimper as my hand reached out to slap down on DOM's arm, fingers curling in, not trusting my legs to hold me up.
A low, deep rumbling sound moved through him at my reaction.
I thought that would be enough.
We were in public.
But the vibration only kicked up a notch.
It didn't matter that he was practically a stranger, that I didn't know if this was allowed or not, all I could think to do was to lean into him, pressing my mouth against his shoulder to keep the sounds from escaping.
Just as suddenly as it started, the perfect pulsations stopped, making me let out a groan as I slammed my forehead against his shoulder in frustration.
His hand left his pocket, palm pressing instead into my lower back, giving me what was almost - or maybe it was just my imagination - a reassuring squeeze.
"Still want to leave, pet?"
I wanted to come was what I wanted.
The only way that was going to happen was if I had dinner with him. If I agreed to more.
Suddenly, it didn't really even feel like there was much of a choice in the matter at all.
"No," I admitted to his shirt.
"Then let's eat," he suggested, pulling away, but keeping his hand at my lower back to guide me. Whether it was just because he was one of those guys who always did that, or because he knew my legs were feeling shaky, I would never know.
Masa was exactly how I remembered it with neutral walls, dark, almost black wood, and slight red and beige accents - upscale and understated.
DOM had clearly been inside waiting for me because he walked past the hostess to lead me back to the table himself. Nestled away in a dark corner, it was a small private booth that had absolutely no seating on the outside of the table. Clearly, it was meant to be romantic.
Me, I had strong opinions on same-side-seaters.
As in, they were ridiculous.
And here I was doing it.
The menus were already sitting waiting for us, a bottle of red wine breathing in the center of the table. As soon as I scooted in, DOM did as well, pouring us glasses as I pretended to study the menu like it had the cure to cancer listed instead of different fish or vegetarian options.
I was vaguely aware of him passing a glass to me - and that it was likely a good idea to start sipping it to calm my nerves. But then under the table, his hand closed over my knee, and I was pretty sure that I would spill it all over myself if I tried.
"Breathe, Adley," he told me in that quiet voice I had heard so many times at night. "What are you so nervous about?"
Off the top of my head - making a fool of myself, screaming if he put that vibrator on again, saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing. The list went on and on.
"I don't know how I am supposed to act right now," I admitted, figuring that if I wasn't truthful, this was never going to work.
"Like yourself," he told me, giving my knee another squeeze before letting it go, reaching out for the wine, this time pressing it to my hands. "If you have comments, make them. If you have questions, ask them. That is the point of this. To feel each other out. There aren't any rules tonight, okay?"
I brought my glass up to my lips, taking a long sip, watching as his eyes dipped to my mouth for a second when my tongue snuck out ever so slightly to wipe some of the red away.
"Okay," I agreed, exhaling a breath that had felt trapped in my lungs.
"Have you ever been here before?"
"Once," I told him as I went back to the menu.
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"Do you want some suggestions?"
"Suggestions? Yes. Ordering for me like I'm a child? No."
I chanced a look up at that, wanting to gauge his reaction to what was, well, me. Me as a person, not me as a submissive.
And, to my surprise, and maybe utter delight, he actually looked amused.
"Got it," he agreed, then pointed out a few of his favorite options, two of which I ordered.
I felt lost once the menus were gone. There was nothing to demand my attention. Except the man beside me who seemed like he was sucking up all the air in the room somehow.
DOM, however, seemed impervious to awkwardness. "You're even more beautiful in person."
From anyone else, that would have been cheesy or trying too hard. From him? It was like a warm caress all through my system.
Instinctively, my head went to duck, feeling my cheeks warm. "Don't," he demanded, snagging my chin and dragging it back up. "Don't hide."
"I thought there were no rules tonight," I said, voice so low that I barely even heard it.
"Rules? No. But preferences, yes. I'd prefer you don't shy away over a compliment."
"I'll work on it," I admitted, not wanting to tell him I would stop doing it, since I wasn't sure how much control I had over the impulse. "Why was your picture so dark?" I asked, wanting to keep conversation going, knowing the silence was going to be my undoing.
"Would it have changed your opinion if it was lighted better?"
"I don't know. I guess it showed enough."
"That was what I was going for. This was your first go around. But if you have to share pictures with a few people in a row, you learn to be wary of putting your face out there too much."
"That makes sense," I admitted, taking another sip of wine, feeling myself starting to relax a little.
It was just a date.
Just like any other first date I had been on.
Except it wasn't.
And the second my hand left the wine glass again, the swatch of fabric between my thighs started vibrating again, making my hand slam down on DOM's thigh as I fought to breathe through it, not be too obvious about what was going on in this very crowded, very nice restaurant.
"Don't come," he demanded softly, lowering the vibration enough to feel like I could focus again before cutting it off completely.
Don't Come Page 5