“I don’t date. A multitude of bad typically follows when I do. Were you born here in California?”
“New York. I’m a transplant here for Caltech, but I think I may stay. I like Pasadena. How do you know Declan?”
“We were in the same fraternity at UCLA. What are you studying?”
“Physics. You?”
“Should have known. It was always Business and Finance for me.” He leaned back against the booth and chuckled. “I like this rapid-fire questions game. I should try it more often.”
“Are you going to ask your next question then?”
“All right, eager one. How many relationships have you been in?”
“Three that were serious, fairly long-term. Why did you ask me out if you don’t date as a rule?”
“Would you like the courteous answer or the honest answer?”
“Honest,” I said. “Always honest.”
“Because I want you.”
That response stopped me cold. Only then did I realize I was leaning into the table a little too far. I sat up straight.
“What do you mean?” I asked at length. “You’ve already had me. You don’t get much more had than last night.”
“Never have I ever been in what most would consider a long-term relationship,” Noah replied with an almost sad twitch of a smile. “Four months, tops. After all this time, I think I’d like to try it again.”
I snorted, “Sex and one date hardly make a long-term relationship.”
“Who said it had to stop there?”
I took a long drink from my glass and licked the excess mix from my lips as I thought about that. The time for rapid-fire was over. I wanted more in-depth answers after that statement.
“So far I’ve seen three different versions of you, Noah-with-no-last-name. You played the old friend at Anya’s, the brute when you came to my apartment last night and the dashing gentleman after the party slash here. Tell me; which one is the real you?”
He took a drag off his cigarette and then said, “All of them. And more.”
“Is your fatal flaw that you’ve got a multiple personality disorder? If that’s the case I know a great psychologist I can recommend.” I was referring to Anya, who I just knew would’ve loved to get her hands on this man’s brain for a day to examine the gears at work.
Noah just shrugged. Even that subtle response looked gentlemanly in that suit. “What can I say; I’m a very complicated man.”
I couldn’t help but lean back into the table a little to explain and, to a degree, show off as well. “I’m an Astrophysicist. I wake up with the equations to Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle dancing through my head beside theoretical particles like tachyons and computer models of the Andromeda galaxy. I, sir, eat complicated for breakfast.”
“Ooh, this kitten has claws.”
You bet your sweet toned ass I do, I thought. Instead, I said, “You’ve ruined normal sex for me, by the way. You know that, right? Thanks to you, I want sex like last night every night of my life from now on.”
His voice changed then. Suddenly it became more grounded in reality and less in the vein of an attempt to impress me. “What if I told you that you could have that? And all of those Nevers that the both of us still need to experience whether they are mundane or sexual.”
Even when he wasn’t trying to impress me, he managed to do so. “How do you mean?”
“After our conversation last week I had a lot of time to think before I acted,” he said. Then added suggestively, “and a lot of time to watch you.”
“And what did all of that thinking lead to?”
“Full disclosure, then.” He snuffed his cigarette. “I lied to you when I told you the thought of taking you roughly was not my first choice. It was without a doubt my first choice. In fact, when you asked me to do it, I had to damn near shoot myself to keep from taking you right then and there in my car. I have a taste for submissive women in the bedroom. On the other hand, I hate women who can’t hold their own on an intellectual or creative level.”
“You mean you’re picky,” I interjected flatly.
He pointed to me like I hit the nail on the head. “I’m very picky. It’s difficult to find the right mix of the two. You, dearest Piper, appear to be what I am looking for. Anyone who looks at you can tell you’re the strong, independent type. There’s not a doubt in my mind that you have an IQ to rival mine, either. But there’s a certain shyness to you, an untapped oil well of sensuality if you will.”
“That’s a lot of smooth-talk rolled up into one box there, mister.”
“No, absolutely not; this isn’t me smooth-talking. This is me telling you what I believe. I only put on a show of flattery for girls I want to fuck once and get rid of. Which, to be fair, is most of them.”
I laughed, unable to resist the jab, “And he’s so modest, too.”
“Hey, you wanted to fuck me. What does that say about you?”
I pressed my lips together in a thin line, trying to hold back an even bigger smile than I’d already been wearing the entire evening. He got me.
“All right, I concede. Ceasefire signed.”
He picked up his glass by the rim and let it dangle precariously between his fingers over the table. “I haven’t had an intelligent submissive woman in my bedroom for a long time. Last night you rekindled my need for it. What I’m proposing to you is this: I want to be your Dom. Maybe, eventually, your Master. Give yourself to me again tonight. If you decide you like the experience, and I decide I’m right about you, then we will take it from there. If not, we can go our separate ways. I want to give you the opportunity to see what being my submissive can entail.”
The words Master and sub weren’t foreign to my ears. I was twenty four, almost twenty five. I surfed porn sites when the mood hit me. I read trashy bodice-ripper romance every once in a while. I knew the basics. It was part of what spurred on my desire for the fantasy he helped me fulfill the prior night. But this… I never expected in a million years to be confronted with such an offer. Somehow, the notion that I’d spend my whole life hopping from one unsatisfying vanilla relationship to another stuck with me. Because things like this didn’t happen in real life; especially not to people like me.
Noah’s eyes were locked on mine. Every time he did that I felt the compulsion to look away. I opened my mouth to speak. At first no words came out.
Finally, I mustered the wherewithal to ask, “And what, exactly, would it entail?”
He killed the drink in his hand and set the glass back on the table. “Being my lady on my arm and my slut between the sheets.”
An involuntary shiver raced through me. As willing as I was to allow myself to be controlled by the self-assured, handsome and all around irresistible man in front of me, I almost needed somebody to stand out in the middle of this one-way-street-to-Yesville with a gigantic fucking caution sign; flashing lights, flag waving and all, telling me to slow the hell down and not seem overzealous.
“Why me though?”
“Why not you?” he countered.
“I’m—I don’t know. I never really pictured myself in that sort of relationship before.”
“Sure you have,” Noah insisted. “Last night you bent to my every whim. You struggled, just as I told you to. And then you gave in, just as I told you to. It thrilled you to feel helpless. And you told me yourself it excited you to be used. I want to use you again, Piper.”
I swallowed hard. “Just for tonight?”
He shrugged, but held back a laugh as he said, “For now. You’re free to walk away afterwards if you despise me when it’s over.”
Between his words and his confidence suggesting that I would not at all dislike the experience let alone hate him in the morning, it grew increasingly difficult to sound like I still had some semblance of control over myself.
Words finally found a way to arrange themselves in a decent enough order in my head to reply, “Well, you took the time to indulge me in my request last night. It’s o
nly fair that I return the favor and at least give it a good college effort. So, my answer is yes.”
“Mmm, you’re sexy when you’re flustered.” He took a deep breath and studied me hard. “The same rule applies tonight as it did last night. If you agree to this then you can’t back out. You belong to me tonight. When I give you a command, you follow it… without hesitation. Understand?”
“Understood,” I said, close to breathless.
“Good. A test then. The women’s bathroom is through there,” he pointed at an angle to my four o’clock where a set of double doors stood. “Go in, remove your panties, and bring them to me.”
Suddenly my mouth was dry. The cut of my dress made it utterly impossible to wear a bra, but now he wanted the only thing between my skin and the world to be the fabric of that dress. And if the wind blew the right way… No. I had to do this. I wanted to do this.
I swallowed down a mouthful of martini, grabbed my clutch purse and, without a word, exited the booth toward the bathroom.
It was silent in there, with carpeted floors leading into a plush sitting area before the stalls. I never understood the need for a sitting area in a bathroom. Who the hell wants to hang out in a bathroom?
The club happened to be exclusive enough that the clientele was sparse, thus the bathroom empty. I stepped up to the sink and took a deep breath. I was doing this. I was really doing this. Not only did I want to, but I wanted him to be the one I did this with. My only fear was that I would fuck it up somehow and ruin the whole thing.
I lifted my dress and hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my black lace panties. They slid down my legs and I stepped out of them. Once collected, I slipped them into the clutch and clasped it shut.
The cool air of the restroom already breathed against my exposed flesh. The excitement of being bare in a public place, especially one as upscale as this, became a tad intoxicating. It was like a dirty little secret kept between us.
I fixed my hair, applied a small amount of lip gloss to replace what was lost to my martini glass, and walked from the bathroom.
Oh yeah, I got this.
When I came back to the table, Noah had ordered another round of drinks. His hungry eyes watched as I closed the distance between us, my dress swinging on my hips with a little more confidence now. I blocked the view of any prying eyes with my body as I stood beside him and retrieved the panties from my clutch.
“Very good girl,” he said as I passed them to him. “I’m impressed.”
By the time I sat back down they were already slipped into his pocket.
“Never have I ever done that before,” I said.
“That list of Nevers will continue to grow shorter the longer you’re with me.”
“Yours too I hope.”
Not a single moment of silence passed between us the remainder of our evening at the bar. Our conversations ran the gamut of vacations and life-goals to our opinions on our friends and everything in between.
An hour later our second round of drinks was long gone, but our conversation continued to grow. The longer we talked, the more I wanted him. It was as simple as that. Judging by his face, he felt the same way.
That was when he suggested, “It’s getting late. I say we take this discussion back to my place.”
“Where do you live, anyway?” I asked as he took my hand to stand me up.
“Downtown,” he replied. After a beat he added, “L.A.”
“Oh. I drove here. Should I follow you?”
“No need. Where did you park?”
“Just around the corner here.”
“Give me your keys.”
I pulled them from my purse and handed them over. He left me at the entrance of the club for long enough to take them to the bartender. I watched the silent discussion from where I was. After a couple of nods from the bartender, Noah tapped on the bar. My keys were left sitting there.
“Taken care of,” he assured me as he returned. I gave him a quizzical look. “It will be at my building by morning.”
“That’s convenient.”
And it was. We traveled down highway one ten from Pasadena to downtown Los Angeles. The entire ride I was consciously aware of the bareness between my legs. I sort of squirmed a little against the cool leather of the seat in his car. He noticed it, enjoyed it even. The confidence radiating from him gave that much away.
Amid the skyscrapers in the hustle and bustle of Saturday night was Noah’s building. There was a valet service out front. The doorman even tipped his hat to us as we passed him. We walked through the lobby, and I almost couldn’t believe it when I saw him push the button for the top floor in the elevator.
The apartment Noah lived in was just as impressive as the floor selection suggested. There was a short step down from the front door. Dark hardwood floors gave way for an open floor plan with barely any doors. To the left was the kitchen. Stainless steel appliances accented marble countertops. An island in the center of the wide space held a wine rack and room enough for three barstools.
After a short step down from the kitchen it splayed open into the living room where an L-shaped leather couch and postmodern chairs surrounded a short coffee table. On the right, floor to ceiling windows reached out for a perfect view of the Loss Angeles skyline and out into the Pacific Ocean. The view was only broken by a faux stone fireplace in the center. A large flat screen TV was affixed above the mantle where photo collages rested in a place of honor.
Beyond the living room was a sliding door cutting an angle into the wall which more than likely consisted of the master bedroom. Darkness lay down a hallway directly beside the room, though I could make out the shape of two other doors. I assumed that one was a second bedroom and the other possibly a guest bath.
Noah closed the door behind us and set his keys on an end table beside the entryway.
“Make yourself at home,” he said. He removed his suit jacket and folded it over the back of the sofa, then rolled up the sleeves of his shirt before he took a bottle of red wine from the wine rack.
On his hip, plain as day, was strapped a forty five.
“You own a gun.” It was a statement more than a question.
“Several as a matter of fact, and licensed for all of them. Including concealed carry,” he noted. It was then removed from his belt and placed on the island in the kitchen. “Does that make you nervous?”
Only a lot.
“From what I’ve seen, guns cause more problems than they solve is all.”
“When placed in the hands of idiots you are absolutely right. Have you ever fired one?”
“No,” and I left it at that. I harbored no desire to do so, either.
He popped open the cork on the wine bottle. “I’ll have to take you to the range sometime.”
I tried to focus on something else, lest I make an awkward conversation even more awkward. I chose the city. I took the step into the living room and walked along the edge of the window. Then I tried not to look down, but out. This must have been painfully awful during earthquakes.
“What a spectacular view,” I said.
“It really is. You should see it at sunset. The city actually shimmers.”
I set my purse on the coffee table when I passed it by. The sound of moving wine glasses came from the kitchen, but my eyes were trained on the mantle and the pictures there. Friends and relatives and businessmen and women, none of whom I ever met or even recognized, filled the images.
One stood out in particular.
The woman in the picture was alone. It was a professional shot, though the photo itself was candid. She was in the process of moving her long brown hair out of her heart-shaped face during a gust of wind. And she was laughing, white teeth showing behind plump peach lips. Her dark eyes were half closed with the effort of the laugh. She looked like she could’ve been a model with her prominent cheek bones and a thin chin. I felt the urge to smile back at her.
“Oh wow, who’s this?”
Noah left the kitchen
with two half-filled wine glasses in his hands. “That’s, ah… that’s Selene.”
“She’s beautiful,” I said. And I meant it without a lick of jealousy.
He was behind me now, my back touching his chest as he brought his arm around to present me a glass of wine while I looked at the picture.
“She is the aforementioned four month stint.”
“Oh. What happened, may I ask?”
He pushed my hair over my left shoulder, exposing the back of my neck to him. “Of course you can ask.” His lips brushed against my skin and his voice became a little more sullen. “She left me. And then she died.”
I turned around and placed my hand on his chest to push him back a little and look him in the eyes. My brow knitted together in a cocktail of interest, apology and concern.
He added quickly, “The latter was not a result of the former, I assure you.”
I shook my head, struggling to voice my thoughts. I hadn’t meant the action as an implication. “No, that—sorry, I didn’t mean for you to think that. I mean, you obviously cared for her. You still have her picture up even after she left you.”
“In the end I cared for her, but she didn’t care for me. I don’t get along with everyone I meet, you know.”
“I find that hard to believe, Noah. You’re all-around charming and sweet and, let’s face it, unbelievably handsome and—”
“And rich,” he said point-blank.
“I was going to say not at all a dick, unlike most guys I get to know through Declan.”
“The fact that you haven’t commented on it all night has just been driving me crazy. Between my car, the piano bar and my apartment most women would have said something by now.”
I chuckled. “Hey, I agreed to go for a drink with you before I knew this much about you, remember? Besides, I’m not going to be so crass as to look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“That’s what I like about you.” Noah closed the short gap between us until our bodies were touching. The action made me pull my hand away from him just as I felt his free arm wrap around to the small of my back. His face was stoic, but his eyes reflected the exhilaration of a lion that just cornered its prey. I swallowed down the reluctance in my throat at the thought of what was to come.
Never Have I Ever Page 6