by Lauren Luman
I come down from my orgasm and finish up my shower. Stepping out, I towel off and head to my closet. I search for those red strappy heels that Malakai insisted I wear. Of course, he wants me accessible, so I find a flowing red skirt covered in white roses that comes down to the middle of my thighs and a black, high-necked, blouse with a lace overlay, making sure my scar does not show. With the instruction I arrive sans panties, I dress with intention. I decide to go a little subtler with my makeup keeping it to some blush, lipstick and some mascara to make my lashes pop. Because it’s so humid outside, I keep my hairstyle just as simple with some light beach waves. My jewelry look is always muted, so I just slip in my diamond studs and call it a day, or in this case, night. I check the time on the wall clock and see that it is six-twenty. I do a once over at my full-length mirror to make sure nothing is out of place. Satisfied that Malakai will be pleased with my ensemble, I grab a cream-colored clutch embellished with a white floral design and toss in the essentials, including my phone and breath mints. Jennifer laughed at me before about that, but I will not leave home without them. Just as I am snapping up the clutch, I hear a strong knocking sound at my door. I double check everything in the hallway mirror, hair, makeup, outfit and answer the door to see Malakai in a grey tailored suit that shows off his powerful arms and trim waist in a way that would make any woman melt. With a slim, red power tie and crisp white button down underneath, he looks positively sinful. I gulp and rub my lips together to make sure I’m not drooling. As fried as my brain is when he is in my presence, nothing would surprise me. I look up and see a half smile on his face showing these beautiful white teeth. The way they contrast against his smooth, dark skin makes me weak in the knees. They start to buckle, and he catches me around the waist. There’s nothing like a man with a beautiful smile.
He chuckles. “Are you okay, love? You look absolutely radiant by the way.” He pulls back from me, and I feel compelled to divert my gaze downward, blushing. “Shall we head downstairs? The car is waiting for us.” And he leads me to the elevator. Silent the whole way down, the air is thick with so many unspoken words about potentiality. What could this turn into? Do I want to submit? Do I want to submit to him? What if he hurts me? That last question is the one that stays with me the longest. The one that breeds doubt in the deepest recesses of my mind.
Walking through the lobby, Malakai keeps his hand on the small of my back. The message this conveys to me and others says that in some way, he is claiming me. I just let it be. Possession will certainly be discussed.
Stepping outside, we slide into the buttery leather seats of the back of the black town car waiting by the curb. Downtown Houston is so difficult to navigate, that I am glad we have a driver. “Have you been to Fiorelli’s, Carrie? I have a soft spot for Italian food.”
“Actually, I have, and it happens to be one of my favorite restaurants when I want to splurge and eat decadently. They have this dish that is to die for. They use a puff pastry like a crepe and stuff it with chicken and cooked spinach, topping it with a white wine cream sauce. Mmm …” My eyes roll to the back of my head, and I groan just thinking about how gluttonous I felt after eating it for the first time.
In that moment, I feel Malakai reach up and gently grab the hair at the base of my neck. What he doesn’t know is that pulling on my hair like that is my trigger to submit. He leans in closer. “Carrie, if you continue to moan like that, we will not make it to dinner, and I assure you, a few conversations need to take place before anything else will happen. From that moment I first saw you in the parking garage, I knew I wanted to have you beneath me. I could see submission in your eyes, in your body language, and I thanked my lucky stars that a woman as stunning as you stumbled into my life.” I blink up into his dark eyes. The corner of his mouth kicks up ever so slightly.
“Now,” he says, “I don’t want to mess up that kissable pink lipstick you’re wearing, but I have to taste you.” His gaze moves down to my lips, and he licks his.
“Thinking about those full lips has had me hard as fuck ever since that night at the club. I imagined your mouth wrapped around my throbbing dick, smearing red lipstick as you took me all the way to the back of your throat.” And with that, he smashes his lips to mine, devouring my soul with his kiss. His lips are strong and soft, prying mine open with a swipe of his tongue against the crease. We kiss as if our lives depend on it, only coming up for air when the car pulls up to the restaurant. He pulls away, leaning his forehead on mine in reverence. I giggle softly and brush my thumb against his lips to remove remnants of pink lipstick.
“Beyond anything I could have imagined. Fuck, Carrie.” Our heavy breaths intermingle as our chests heave up and down. Malakai lets go of my hair and slides his hand down my arm to link his fingers with mine. “Come on. Our table should be waiting.”
“Jackson, table for two,” Malakai relays to the hostess as we approach the podium. She checks her list of reservations and smiles, “Right this way, please.” She shows us to circular corner booth in a dimly lit portion in the back of the restaurant. It provides a certain level of privacy that we can both appreciate. He slides in first, pulling me down with him, as he has yet to detach his hand from mine. This constant touch does funny things to my stomach that I refuse to overanalyze. As we settle into the booth, the hostess hands us menus, letting us know of their wine special for the evening.
“Carrie, love, what would you like to drink? I noticed at the club you only drank cranberry juice.”
“I will just have water with lemon, please. I don’t drink.”
“I like that you don’t drink. It keeps you clear headed and means that any decisions you make are your own, not made by something that has muddled up your brain. As for me, I’ll have a scotch, on the rocks, please.” The hostess leaves with our drink orders, and we pore over the food selection. My mind keeps going back to that kiss in the car, making it difficult to concentrate on food.
“I love so many things at this restaurant, but that dish I described in the car is my tried and true. I think I will stick with that.”
Our waiter, Lance, approaches with our drinks, and Malakai orders for me, then steak gorgonzola for himself. While we’re waiting on the food orders, Malakai begins to give me this hungry look, and it’s not for the food.
“Malakai, I have a few questions before we get into any heavy discussions, if you don’t mind.”
“Let me guess. You’re wondering how I knew your last name so you could gain entry into my club.”
“That. And my apartment number. I have an issue with the fact that you invaded my privacy, not even bothering to just ask me.” I’m trying my best to hide the irritation in my voice. I want this night to flow smoothly, but I cannot let this go without some semblance of an explanation or apology.
“Carrie, I may have just moved in, but the building owner is a very close friend of mine. I assure you I had no malicious intent, but I needed to know you. When you mentioned you and your friend were going to Park 59, I wanted to make sure that the two of you didn’t have to worry about anything for the night, that you were taken care of, so I had a private conversation with my friend. It took some convincing, but he knows I’m the good guy and that I would never use your personal information wrongfully. Needless to say, when I laid out my intentions, he was more than willing.”
I let out a huff of breath. “You could have just asked me. What you did was a bit underhanded. I appreciate you accommodating us to make sure we were able to get in, but how do you know I didn’t already have it handled?”
“Because I remember you telling me it was your first time going. I pay attention when a breathtakingly beautiful woman has something to say.”
Playfully, I roll my eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“I just love your feisty nature. It’ll come in handy later.” He winks at me. Winks at me. I start to melt a little.
Lance comes by the table with drink refills, relieving some of the tension that’s built up.
“Look Malakai, it’s just a little unnerving to have someone I just met imbed themselves into my personal space so quickly. We don’t even know anything about each other really. Should we not at least have one of those ‘getting to know you’ type of conversations?” By now, I’m trying to have a seemingly normal date, but there’s nothing normal about the level of attraction I feel for this man. “As for me, I have bachelor’s and master’s degrees in Social Work. I spend a few days a week working at this Crisis Center taking calls from teens and young adults who feel they have no way out. Speaking frank, I come from money, which is the only way I am able to afford the loft. I have a passion for helping to right the wrongs of social injustices. I love animals, but would rather have a space for them to run around if I was to ever get one. I come from a huge family, but I rarely speak to any of them. Long story, don’t ask.” I take a deep breath, my monologue coming out fast.
Lance returns to the table with our meals, distracting from the heavy topic of conversation. My appetite is nearly gone, but when I smell the rich aroma of my favorite dish, a feeling of euphoria takes over. I pick up my utensils, place my napkin in my lap, and dig in. Once the flavors hit my tongue, my taste buds erupt. I close my eyes and let out this orgasmic groan. Food, comfort food like this, is one of my happy places and always grounds me.
“Fine,” he relents. “I’m thirty-seven, originally from Atlanta, Georgia. I moved out here to Houston merely to expand my real estate portfolio, hence why I don’t go out on the club floor at Park 59. The scene itself is not my thing, but its location has potential to be a significant moneymaker. I have degrees in Marketing and Business from Howard University. I have a younger sister and niece who mean the world to me, and parents who have been married forever, it seems. Family is one of the most important things to me, but I have yet to decide if I want my own someday. I’ve always been hyper-focused on my business ventures, so relationships are few and far between. It takes a certain kind of woman to handle the type of demands I make. I like what I like.” He shrugs at that last statement. Keeping his voice low, ensuring our privacy, Malakai broaches the subject I have been battling since we’d met. “You know, I mentioned on the phone earlier that I like things a particular way. Tell me about your familiarity with the BDSM lifestyle. My hope is that your mind is just as depraved as mine.”
“Malakai, there is a history I don’t really ever talk about, and that only a few close to me really know every detail of.” I debate on how much I want to tell him, because I don’t want to ruin this moment of opportunity. I fear exposing my history will deter his efforts, and I think I want the chase, that pursuit from a man who knows exactly what he wants and how to get it.
I sigh, lowering my face to avoid looking him Malakai in the eye. “About three and a half years ago, I realized something about myself. Submission was a part of me, sexually speaking. I’d read a few books with romantic storylines centered around BDSM and became intrigued, turned on even, by the scenes these characters would portray. So, I started doing some research. Research about the ‘lifestyle’, as you call it. That led me to make a decision that would change my life forever. I found out about a social media site geared toward those who are part of the community. I created a profile, and it was there that I met a guy named Troy Emerson. He’d been a Dominant for years, and seemed knowledgeable and understanding once we established limits.” By now, I am struggling to keep my emotions and anxiety in check as I recount that horrific evening when my life could have easily come to an end by my attacker’s hand.
My voice begins to tremble. “Part of our arrangement included no online activity on the site. Really, in retrospect, it was his way of controlling my loyalty, though I never gave him reason to doubt that. My best friend asked about it once, out of genuine interest, so I showed it to her. I mistakenly left my computer up, and he saw it, unbeknownst to me.” The anxiety begins to take over, and I can no longer control my breathing.
Malakai puts his hand on my cheek, turning my face toward his. “Carrie, look at me. Calm down. I’m here with you. You’re safe.” He puts his other hand on my other cheek, framing my face to help me focus. “Take slow, deep breaths.” With his peaceful, powerful words, within minutes I regain my composure. I let out a low, guttural sound at his touch on my face.
“Carrie,” Malakai rasps out, “What did I say about moans like those? As much as I’d love to keep hearing them, I’d rather hear more about your past. It seems difficult for you to talk about, so maybe another time, but I really would like to get beyond this and figure out how far we can take things. I’ve never met a woman like you who is so headstrong, yet beautifully vulnerable in the best of ways.”
He looks at me with such awe that I’m taken aback. I inhale deeply and decide to just get the rest of the story over with, anxiety be damned. If I am to give this man, and a life of submission, a chance, I have to conquer my fears. He is not Troy, and I see that.
“We were in the middle of a scene, with me strapped to his bedposts. He’d left the room and came back a completely different man, wielding a knife. This was not part of anything I was comfortable with. Blood play was a hard limit for me, and he knew it. Then he explained seeing my computer online, but my explanation was not to be believed. He took the knife and sliced up from above my belly button to just under my neck, hence the reason for this blouse. The only reason it didn’t escalate was because his roommate, Steve, came home. When I heard him come in, I screamed. Steve ran into the room and took him down. He saved me. Three years later, and I’m still as self-conscious as ever about my scar being visible.” I touch my hand to my chest in remembrance, feeling the raised skin beneath the soft fabric of the lace. “And that’s why I reacted so strongly to the ‘Princess’ endearment you used. That was his nickname for me, and nobody has used it since, so I didn’t know how I would react to hearing it.” I take a deep breath, furthering an attempt to calm my nerves even more, and look over at him.
“Are you fucking serious?” He reacts, angrily. “It’s assholes like him that give our lifestyle a bad name. Men like him make the outside world view it as abuse. Carrie, love, I am so sorry that happened. This Troy character sounds like the type of man who hides behind the veil of dominance and uses it as an excuse to control and abuse his partner, should she step out of line even just a little. You have to know I would never do anything like that. I would punish you, yes, but only within limits, and I would make sure you enjoyed it to the fullest. Pain can bring pleasure, when done right. And love, I want to do it right. With you.” His tone is so genuine that it removes all doubt.
“Malakai, I want to believe you, I really do. And I want to give submission another try. But I have no idea where to begin. It’s been so long …” I trail off, my voice wavering.
“Baby steps, Carrie. But we have to start somewhere,” He grabs my hand in a gesture of comfort and signals the waiter to bring our check and bag our food that is now cold.
“I didn’t intend on spoiling the mood for dinner, especially after that kiss in the car. I have to admit, you took my breath away.” I couldn’t remember the last time I had been kissed like that or felt one so deep in my core.
“You didn’t spoil anything,” he said leaning forward again, whispering in my ear. “If anything, I want you even more knowing how much you’ve been through and how strong it’s made you. Your experience has made you cautious, yes, but wiser for it. And the fact that you still want to submit to another after what happened, well I admire you. And I’d like to admire more of you, namely in my bed.” He rests his large palm on my knee and slowly moves it up my thigh and under my skirt, to the juncture between my thighs, where I’m aroused beyond belief. Then I feel his breath against the shell of my ear. “I see you obeyed and went commando. I am pleased with you, love.” He gently puts pressure on my sensitive, swollen clit and starts to slowly circle the bundle of nerves. My whole body is awash with goosebumps, my breaths coming shorter. Then he abruptly stops, causing my eye
s to widen and a whimper to escape my throat.
“Tease,” I murmur under my breath, craving release.
“What was that, love?” Malakai asks with that same sexy smirk on his face.
“Oh, nothing.”
“Good girl,” he rewards as the waiter comes back with our check and packaged meals. Hearing those two words makes my face heat with pride, but also wonderful embarrassment. Malakai tucks a few bills in the payment book, grabs hold of our bagged food, and pulls me out of the other side of the booth, coming full circle. We head out of Fiorelli’s, and he calls the driver back around so that we can head back to our downtown high-rise. I have not quite figured out if our close living proximity would escalate or hinder whatever this thing is that is happening between us. And whatever “it” is, I want it like my next breath.
As we pull up in front of our building, silence surrounds us. I have no expectations at this point, but I have no idea what Malakai is thinking.
“Carrie, your head is spinning, and I know you’re on edge. Let me in.” With those words, I nod with encouragement. He leans in for another kiss, but this time our lips barely touch. Even with their softness, I feel every promise pour out of him. What he does not say with words, he puts in the moment of that kiss, allowing me to give in just as he commands.
“Let’s go upstairs. I have a surprise for you,” Malakai says softly.
“Yes, Sir.” I respond, holding back a grin.