by Sarah Bailey
The maitre d’ led us to a quite table in the corner. It was by a large window overlooking the bustling nightlife on the street below. As I settled into my chair, I took in the scene outside the window. There was a night club right next door, and a line up running down the street, made up of guys in suits, hair slicked back, and women in sequins, skin tight dresses, shifting on their stilettos, eager to be let in. The lit cigarettes looked like orange fireflies in the distance, dangling between fingers, the smoke curling, rising, and finally dissipating.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Julian said, drawing my attention back to him.
I shrugged my shoulders slightly. “I was just admiring the view.”
“So was I,” he said, his eyes once again raking every inch of me.
I blushed, then cleared my throat. Julian smiled at me gently, then leaned back in his chair. “You know what drives me crazy about you?” he asked.
I searched his face. He was eyeing me carefully, but his expression gave nothing away. “No,” I finally said. “Why don’t you tell me.”
He leaned forward. “You come across as shy. You blush. You avert your eyes. But you’re not. Not at all,” he said, his eyes locking with mine, making my breath catch.
“Oh really?” I said, trying to sound blithe, but once again the tremor in my voice gave me away.
Julian flashed me a devastating smile, then leaned in even closer. “A lot of people think shyness is a sign of meekness. They see someone blushing easily. Or being very quiet in social situations. And they think that person is submissive. Easy to dominate.”
I sat back in my chair, my expression guarded, and started toying with the edge of my menu. “Isn’t that what you see in me, Julian?” I asked, searching his face. “Don’t you see me as easy prey? Haven’t you expressed how you want to dominate me? Turn me into your sexual slave?”
Julian looked amused, and took a sip of his water. “Yes,” he said matter-of-factly, “But not because you’re easy to dominate, Sarah.” He put his glass down forcefully, and hit me hard with his heated gaze. “The thing about shyness,” he began, “is that it’s often just a cover for a really strong personality. A strong fire burning beneath the reserve.” He ran his finger around the rim of his glass as his gaze seared into me. “You avert your eyes, Sarah. You pull away, because there’s so much passion burning in you that you’re scared that if you loosen the lid on it, let it burn freely, you’ll incinerate yourself and everyone around you.”
My stomach fluttered in recognition. He was right. I was so deathly afraid of losing control, and destroying myself and everyone else around me. Not literally. Not physically. But definitely emotionally. I had a temper, which the video incident made all too clear, and though I was good at keeping a lid on it, if someone really pissed me off, it flared. And I really knew how to hit where it hurt. My temper really burned others. Like Elle the other night at the bar. Or even Ziggy earlier this afternoon. Sure, part of me felt they deserved it, but part of me also knew I’d crossed the line.
I let out a long sigh. “If you think I’m really such a loose cannon underneath it all, then why aren’t you running for the hills?” I asked, leaning back and crossing my arms.
He looked pointedly at my arms and said, “you’re putting up another shield, Sarah.”
I instinctively pulled my arms tighter against my chest. “Maybe I need a shield. Maybe I need my defenses, okay? Why don’t you just leave it alone?” I could hear the anger and desperation that had crept into my tone, and I felt like getting up out of my seat and running for the exit. I couldn’t sit here and be scrutinized anymore.
“You don’t need your defenses around me, Sarah,” he said.
I let out a short laugh. “It’s around you that I need my defenses the most.”
“Why?” he asked, looking like he already knew the answer but wanted me to say it anyway.
“Because,” I began, feeling my eyes go hard. “It’s around you I’m most likely to lose control.”
I felt my body start to tremble, and decided I couldn’t take this anymore. “This is a bad idea,” I said decisively, getting to my feet. “I need to go home.”
“Sit down, Sarah,” he said, his tone stern.
“I need to leave,” I said, my voice wavering. He got up and came around to my side of the table. He put his arms around my waist, and looked intently into my eyes. It felt alarmingly good, alarmingly safe to be in his arms, and I immediately felt myself relax.
“Please sit down,” he said. I let out a deep breath, then slid back into my seat.
Once he was sure I wasn’t going to bolt, he took a seat himself, and reached across the table for my hand. “I’m attracted to that fire burning just below the surface, Sarah. That kind of intense passion is so beautiful, and in some ways, so rare.”
I gave him a crooked smile. “You think a temper is beautiful. And rare? You’re a strange man, Julian.”
His eyes crinkled slightly, and he tightened his grip around my hands. “Not your temper, you’re passion. Your passion is what gives you your intensity, your ambition, your flare.”
“And my temper,” I added.
“Yes,” he said. “But I can handle your temper.”
I raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “I thought you’d seen the video,” I said ruefully.
Julian’s gaze became heated, and he leaned even closer. “I want you to feel it’s safe to lose control around me. I want you to let yourself go. Surrender yourself to me completely. I’m a strong, powerful man, Sarah. I can handle your passion, your temper. You don’t have to rein yourself in around me.”
I let out a long, shuddering breath. Julian was blowing me away. I’d never been with someone who could read me so well. He seemed to truly understanding something so deep and essential about me, even though we’d barely spent any time together. Rob had never totally gotten me. Or he had, and he was somehow threatened. He was always telling me I was too intense. That I should just relax and chill. And though our sex had been decent, he never really blew me away. Although I’d had orgasms with Rob, they were never earth shattering, because I never trusted myself to completely let go with him. Part of me had always longed that he would sometimes take charge in bed, but I often felt like I was the one taking charge of giving him pleasure, putting his needs above my own.
“What exactly are you proposing, Julian?” I asked. His eyes twinkled with pleasure, and he gently trailed his finger along the back of my hand.
“That you surrender to me,” he said matter-of-factly.
“And what exactly does that mean to you?” I asked, feeling my back go up slightly. I hoped he wasn’t going to suggest whips and chains, because that really wasn’t my thing.
“That you let me take charge in bed, so you can let your passion run wild.”
As soon as he said the words, I felt myself getting wet. What Julian was offering was so tempting, but my mind rebelled against it. The idea of putting myself in Julian’s hands, trusting him completely, not just with my body, but with my emotional core, was utterly terrifying.
“Stop thinking it over so much, and listen to what your body is saying, Sarah. I can tell the thought arouses you. Your lip is trembling. And I’m sure if I slid my hand between your legs I’d feel that you were wet and ready for me.”
I shifted in my seat, and grabbed my water glass. I took a big gulp, then leaned back in my chair. “You really are quite cocky aren’t you.”
“Am I wrong?” he asked, leaning across the table and reaching for my face. He gently stilled my lip with his thumb, never taking his hungry eyes off mine.
Impulsively, I bared my teeth, and bit down gently on his thumb. He grinned, then slid his finger deeper into my mouth and held it there for a moment. I licked it slightly, and he let out a low groan. “I can’t wait to feel that clever tongue of yours sliding along my thick cock,” he said, removing his thumb.
“Thick, is it?” I said, playfully arching my eyebrow. “I’ll have to verify l
ater that that’s not false advertising.”
“I’ll let you get up close and personal, and you can even take it for a test drive,” he said, grinning wickedly.
Just then the waiter appeared. “I’d love to take it for a test drive, Mr. McGregor,” he said.
My mouth dropped open, and I stared at him incredulously.
The waiter was in his late-twenties, tall, lanky, with twinkling hazel eyes, and he was grinning mischievously. “If the car’s missing at the end of the night, you’ll know who has it. But by that time I’ll be over the border into Mexico.”
I let out a long sigh of relief, and put my hand to my chest. “I’m only kidding around, my dear,” he said, obviously noticing my distress. Julian had been able to keep his face relatively impassive, but his eyes had been slightly tense. Now he looked amused.
“Bill,” he said, “Good to see you again.”
“Always a pleasure to see you, Mr. McGregor,” he said with a slight bow. “What can I get you?”
“We’ll have a bottle of the Chateau Canon La Gaffeliere,” he said, then paused and gave me an inquisitive look. “Do you like chicken?” he asked me. I nodded. He turned his attention back to Bill.
“We’ll both start with the French Onion Soup, and then for our main course we’ll share a pot of your exquisite Coq au vin.”
“Wonderful choices,” Bill said, smiling at both of us, and then discreetly excusing himself.
As soon as Bill was out of earshot, Julian turned his attention back to me, pinning me with one of his piercing looks. “Why won’t you surrender to me?” he asked. “What’s holding you back?”
I brushed back a stray piece of hair, and started tapping my fingers anxiously against my water glass. “I’m more than willing to sleep with you, Julian. Isn’t that enough?”
“No,” he said, his eyes going dark. “It isn’t. I need your emotional commitment as well, Sarah. Otherwise this won’t work.”
“You mean you need me to bare myself completely. Be an open book. And give up all control.”
“You need to trust me completely, Sarah.”
I cocked my head to the side, almost as though I wanted to see him from a different angle. “Why can’t we just be fuck buddies?” I asked. “No emotional strings attached.”
His eyes flashed with fury. “Because, I want you, Sarah. Not just your body. I want all of you. I want to break through every last one of your defenses, unbridle all of that pent up passion, hear you scream my name like you mean it while you thrash and quiver beneath me.” He leaned back, his expression calmer, but still serious. “I don’t think any man has ever truly known who you are at your core. You hide, Sarah. I want to be the man who brings you out of your shell. I want my touch to drive you wild, and bring out a part of you that no other man can.”
Again, my body responded to his words. A tingling heat flushed up from between my legs, and desire roared through my veins. But again, my reservations got the better of me. I pressed my lips together, and gave Julian a wary look. “Do you remember that game everyone played when they were kids? Where one person stands behind the other with his arms stretched out, and the person in front has to fall back, and trust that the other person will catch her?”
Julian nodded his head. “Well, I was a good catcher. I’d never let a person drop. In fact, my friends were so sure that I’d catch them, they wanted me to increase the thrill by waiting closer and closer to the last second to hold them up.”
Bill returned just then with our bottle of wine, opened it, let Julian taste it, filled our glasses, and then disappeared again.
I grabbed the wine glass by the stem, and took a long, luxurious sip. The wine was smooth, with a complex finish. “The thing is,” I continued. “I could never do it the other way. I could never be the one to fall back. I just didn’t trust anyone to catch me. Not that I thought they’d intentionally let me fall. I just worried that something might go wrong. They might step back at the wrong time, or I’d fall in an awkward way where I’d be too heavy, or something. I don’t know. I just couldn’t do it.”
Julian studied me thoughtfully. “You’re a responsible person. Too responsible. I’d be willing to bet you’ve always been surrounded by people who count on you to be reliable, but who you can’t depend on yourself.”
I thought about that for a moment. I knew my mom loved me, but she was always busy taking care of my dad’s needs, leaving me to take care of myself. She relied on me to be a good daughter, not make a fuss, be self-directed. Neither she nor my dad ever had the time to help me with school work, but they expected top grades nonetheless. They taught me to always be there for others, but to not make a nuisance of myself by being needy for help myself. When we had to do projects in school, I usually got badly taken advantage of. Somehow, I always ended up with a group of people who never did their portion of the work, leaving me to do all of it by myself, with them also getting credit. Then there was my best friend from grade school, a vibrant, hilarious, redheaded girl name Jane, who loved the sandwiches my mom made for lunch. One day she forgot to bring hers, and I had an extra sandwich, so I gave it to her. From that day on she always forgot her lunch at home, relying on me to bring extra food for her. I told my mom about it one day and she laughed it off, saying I was being a good friend and she would make sure to always pack enough food for the both of us.
My friends now were awesome. Angela and Lisa both had my back, and would always hear me out. Still, Angela rarely did her share of cleaning around the apartment, leaving me to pick up after her. And in the boy department, I was a mess. I tirelessly championed Rob, bragging about his talent to all of my friends, and he rarely ever cheered me on for my academic success, or told people how good I was at discovering talent.
I looked at Julian, feeling the realization dawn on my face. I took another long sip of my wine, once again savoring the taste. Julian looked delighted. “I see you’re enjoying the Gaffeliere,” he said, his eyes crinkling slightly.
“Very much. Once again, you’re spoiling me rotten,” I said, suddenly feeling shy.
He leaned forward again, and locked eyes with me. “I haven’t even begun to spoil you yet, Ms. Stevens,” he said. I shivered under his intimate gaze. “I’m going to take good care of you, Sarah. You deserve the very best, and I intend to give it to you.”
I shook my head, feeling embarrassed. “Julian, this is all too much. I can’t even begin to repay you for it.”
Julian face became pained. “Repay me, Sarah?”
“Yes,” I said. “For all of this lavish treatment.” I gestured around the restaurant. “All of this. It’s way out of my league.”
Julian reached across the table and grabbed my hand, pinning me with another deadly serious look. “You don’t owe me anything, Sarah. Ever. Do you understand me? I’m treating you because it gives me pleasure, not because I expect anything in return.”
I looked at him skeptically. “From what I understand, you are expecting something in return. You’re expecting me to give myself to you, utterly and completely.”
Julian’s face became pained. “Sarah. Our discussion of the terms of our relationship is completely separate from me treating you to dinner. The one has nothing to do with the other.”
Just then our soups arrived. I looked away, feeling awkward, and unfolded my napkin, placing it in my lap. When the server left, Julian reached across the table and tilted up my chin. His eyes were grave and earnest. “Sarah. Anything I give you is a gift. Pure and simple. I don’t expect anything into return. If you surrender to me, it’ll be because you want to. Not because you owe me anything.”
I pulled my chin out of his grip, and gave him a level stare. “Julian. I can’t just take and take and take. That’s not an equal relationship. I’m not just going to sit back and let you pamper me like I’m some spoiled socialite.”
Julian let out a long, hard laugh. “Sarah,” he said, still chuckling. “You are the furthest thing from a spoiled socialite. You have pa
ssion. Drive. A strong work ethic. And I admire all of those things. I’m not trying to take that away from you.”
I felt ambivalent, and it must have shown on my face, because Julian face became anxious. “It’s just, I’m used to taking care of myself. And I don’t ever want to feel dependent.”
“Don’t think of it as a threat to your independence. Like I said, there are no strings attached.”
I spooned up some soup, blowing on it because it was still hot. The broth had a strong, rich taste, and the cheese was to die for. For a moment I thought ‘I could get used to this,’ then felt my back go up. I put my spoon back in the bowl, letting it clink against the ceramic. “You say that now, Julian, but the thing is, there are always strings attached.”