An Acquired Taste

by Mason, Jude

  The Maitre d' introduced them to their waiter, John, a young man in a crisp white shirt, dark slacks, and a white apron. He handed them menus, explained to them what the specials were and then left them to each other. As he walked away, Cynthia pulled her shawl from her shoulders and hung it over the arm of her chair, then glanced around.The table nearest them was a good ten feet away and, at the moment, empty.

  "You mentioned trust," she said, laying her menu on the table. "Yet, you allowed me to cuff you. I made you helpless, and yet you hardly know me."

  Caleb set his menu down as well and looked at her without answering right away. He steepled his fingers, and rested his chin on his fingertips, then said,"Yes, I know, and I've thought about that all week."

  "Yes—and?" Her stomach was in knots. Even though they were so new together, she felt as if he was willing to share a great deal with her already. "And, I don't understand it, but I know I can trust you." She cocked her head. Trust had to be earned, and took time, or that's what she'd always believed. "You might think you trust me, but until boundaries are pushed, you really don't know."

  "That may be true. It probably is." He leaned back in his chair, and reached for his beer. A long swallow, a thoughtful look, and he added, "I'd really like you to help me push those boundaries."

  John, their waiter, interrupted any further discussion with his arrival. "Have you decided what you'd like to order?" he asked.

  "The special for me, please," Cynthia said easily. Food was the last thing on her mind, but she wanted to keep up the charade.

  "I'll have the same," Caleb said. His voice sounded strained, as if he too had other things on his mind. "No appetizer?" John asked politely. "No, not for me," both replied together. "Very well, thank you." "John," Cynthia said, and he looked directly at her. "Don't disturb us

  again until you bring dinner, please." "Very well, ma'am." He bowed and left. "It appears we'll both have to wait for another week to test anything," said Caleb. He smiled—a cheeky, mischievous smile that she knew was a challenge.

  "Yes, it's a shame you'll have to wait, isn't it?" she countered and watched his smile vanish. Two could play that game, and she was much better at it than he was. She took a sip of her drink, savoring the tang of the gin.They sat in silence for a few minutes.

  The waiter appeared, their dinners in his hands: Chicken Kiev, roasted garlic potatoes and a medley of mixed vegetables, lightly dusted with herbs. Cynthia leaned forward and breathed in the rich aroma. She looked across at Caleb, and watched as he thoughtfully picked up his cutlery and speared a carrot.

  They ate in near silence. He seemed to be deep in thought and she let him come to whatever terms he would. She was sure he'd open up more when he was ready. There was a lot for him to think about, and a lot of it was new territory.

  She'd just picked up her napkin and was wiping her mouth, when he said, "I'm sorry I've been so quiet."

  "It's understandable," she said, and dabbed the corner of her mouth. "This is a lot to take in and it looks like it's just hit you."

  "Yeah, I think it has." He picked up his glass and took a drink of beer. "Cynthia, you're an incredibly attractive woman. You've shown me a whole new world, and to be honest, it excites me. But, it scares hell out of me too."

  She sat silently, letting him talk. She understood his reluctance, his fear, and her heart reached out to him, empathizing. His submissiveness had no part in his day-to-day life, it couldn't. His business decreed that he be firm and forceful, and she loved that contradiction in him. They'd need to talk, a lot, over the next while, and she looked forward to explaining, and exploring his limits.

  "You're not just a customer." He looked into her eyes and added, "At least I hope that's how you're feeling."

  "I am," she reassured him. Reaching across the table, she opened her hand, palm up. His joined hers, and the touch was magical. "I haven't felt anything like this since I met my husband. When he died, I wasn't sure I'd ever find someone who was interested in the same kind of lifestyle."

  "I'm interested," he blurted, and then took a breath before adding, "but I'm also unsure. We're going to have to take it slow."

  "Let's get out of here." She pushed her chair back and rose to her feet. Picking up her shawl, she held it out to him. The implication didn't go unnoticed, and he immediately got to his feet and took the shawl. She turned, and an instant later, his hands caressed her shoulders. He stood behind her, his body close enough for her to feel its heat. His breath on her neck caused goose bumps to race down her arms.

  "Thank you, Cynthia," he whispered, and then his lips pressed into the nape of her neck.

  She shuddered. Her face felt hot. Her nipples tightened and when she took a deep breath, her dress dragged across them. Sighing, she nuzzled against his face. Then he slipped away, leaving her wanting more. Yes, he really was a devil.

  She strode from the dining room into the foyer. He trailed behind; close enough to have his hand on her hip.

  The Maitre d' stood at his post, and bowed when she handed him a credit card from her purse. He was there, Caleb, one hand on her hip, the other on her shoulder. Close, so close his thigh touched hers. So close, his erection brushed across the swell of her ass.

  The slender Maitre d' handed her back her card, and she signed on the dotted lines. Her hand was steady—surprisingly steady, when her blood was on fire.

  The evening was warm, the sky just turning from daylight to twilight. Red streaks reached across the horizon. She watched him closely as he navigated through the evening traffic. Sure and with ease, he soon had them out of the rush and onto the side street that led to her house.

  Once he'd parked, he escorted her to her doorway. Again, the gallant, he took her hand, and while she stood enchanted, he kissed her palm. "Good night, my lady, thank you for a bewitching evening," he murmured, turned, and a few moments later, he was gone.

  Chapter Eight

  She slept wonderfully well, and awoke the next morning, her mind filled with thoughts of Caleb. She pulled Ginger onto her stomach and stroked the cat until he purred with pleasure. Dinner the evening before had been just what she needed to set a spark into her life. It really had been too long since she'd been out, or had any interest in a man, or had one interested in her. She closed her eyes and if it had been possible, she'd have purred along with Ginger. Caleb, strong, easy going, had a streak of masculine strength that took her breath. The strong silent type, she chuckled. Then her mind flashed to the image of him bent over and bound to the bench.

  She shuddered, and pushed Ginger off to the side. She had work to do, and lying in bed fantasizing, wasn't going to get it done. It was her weekend to make meat pies, by the dozen, which she'd then freeze for later cooking and distributing. Her freezer held all the ingredients she needed; it was just a matter of making the pastry and putting it all together.

  A shower first, and she forced her mind to stay focused on work. There'd be time enough later to concentrate on her hunky contractor. Her weekend went by faster than it had any right to, and Monday morning found her pushing her head under the pillow, not wanting to get up. Saturday had been all work and Sunday had been almost as bad. The good news was she'd managed to get all of the paper work done for the lawyer she'd talked to on Friday, and three other clients she'd been putting off.

  Groaning, she peeked out and saw the sun reaching across the floor towards her. She remembered pulling the curtains closed the night before, but with the window open, the breeze had blown them partially open. Outside, she heard noises, and knew Caleb had already begun his day's work.

  She climbed out of bed and padded over to the window. Peeking out between the curtains, she saw him carrying a sheet of drywall. Dressed in cut-offs, T-shirt, and work boots, his sun-bronzed skin glowed in the sun. He climbed the single step to the new room and let the sheet drop, flat to the floor. Without stopping, he turned and went out, for the next sheet. Cynthia yawned, stretched, and headed for a shower. Ten minutes later, dressed in a yel
low print cotton dress, she walked into the kitchen for her morning coffee. She was running late, so wouldn't get the chance to talk to Caleb except to wish him a good morning, and to hand him a cup of coffee just before she left. He smiled and told her that the electrician was due at eight. He left the cup on a windowsill, and went for the next sheet of drywall. They met again as she was leaving, each wishing the other a good morning.

  When she got into her car and started it up, she sat for a moment, watching him drag another sheet of drywall out of the back of his truck. His shoulder muscles rippled and she could see the strain in his thighs. A beautiful man, she thought, and put the car in reverse. * * * * Sammy was his usual cheerful self when she walked into the office. Dressed in purple from top to bottom, he looked like a fashion model gone crazy. He'd even gone so far as to color the tips of his hair to match. "My lord!" she blurted out when she saw him. "You like?" He beamed and did a sultry spin, one hand on his hip,

  the other at the back of his head. "Sammy, I don't know how you get away with it, but yes, I like." "I knew you would, honey." Tossing her purse into a drawer, she laid the bag, with all the work she'd done over the weekend, on her desk. Sammy sat in the visitor's chair, his legs crossed as he relayed morning messages to her. Another meeting with Mr. Dobson—a short one, thank heavens—to sign papers and make sure the menu she'd organized was to his liking. It went well, and he only had enough time to make one pass at her, which she fended off easily. Returning calls and a trip to a new poultry supplier on the outskirts of the city took up the rest of the morning.

  When she returned to the office at noon, Sammy had a couple of files set aside for her to take home. That was it for the day, and she cheerfully left her purple clad assistant to take care of business.

  There was a white, service van in the driveway when she got home, so she parked on the street. On its side, she read 'CR Electric' and knew she'd have lights in the addition soon. She entered the house and saw that the sliding glass doors that had led from the dining room to the new room were gone.

  "Yay," she muttered, excitement taking hold. She dropped the files and her purse on the table.Kicking her shoes off, she headed towards the dining room for a better look at what was going on.

  Men cursed, something slid across the floor. "Fuck!" came Caleb's familiar voice.

  It was followed by that of someone she didn't recognize. "Yup, it's fucked. You measure this or just guess?"

  Cynthia looked across the room and watched Caleb and an older, dark haired man wrestle with the sliding doors, frame and all. Leaning against the door jam, she waited to hear what the problem was.

  "I assumed the slider was standard size," he said, a note of frustration in his voice. "Hang on; just hold this up for a minute." The electrician steadied the door, while Caleb pulled his measuring tape out of his belt, and measured the frame. "Shit," he muttered. He turned and measured the opening, then said, "Shit, shit shit!" he cursed again. "Two inches wider, why would anyone make a door two inches wider than standard?" "We got it on a sale," Cynthia interrupted. Both men jerked around to face her. Caleb's mouth dropped open and the older electrician smiled. It was one of those kinds of smiles where you know it's not you in trouble, and you might get to watch someone else's ass fry.

  "What's up, Caleb?" she asked innocently and crossed her arms under her breasts.

  The electrician's eyes scanned down, and fixed on her chest. Caleb just stared at her. He closed his mouth, and swallowed then answered, "I didn't measure this door. It's two inches wider than standard."

  "Yeah, I knew that. We got it for a steal. It was supposed to go into a friend's house, but he changed his mind and wanted French doors instead. He offered it to us at a screamin' deal just to get rid of it. Tom put it in himself." She loved how this had turned out. Who knew an odd sized door would come to have such an impact on her. Just watching Caleb's face was a prize. "So, how was your meeting on Saturday?"

  The innuendo wasn't lost on him, he'd messed up, and she'd caught him. He glanced at his helper before replying. "Fine, the business is booming. I've got another job lined up right after this one's finished." "Good." She turned to the electrician. "Are you done here?" "Uh, yes, ma'am, all wired and the inspector had time to drop by

  right away. You have no idea how lucky you were on that one." "Excellent, so you can head off to your next job then. I'll give Caleb a hand with this, when he gets the measurement right." She walked over to where the man held the frame and took over from him. As long as it was balanced, the weight was next to nothing.

  "I'll hit the road then," he said, after making sure she could handle it. He said to Caleb, "Thanks for the job, man. I'll be seeing you. Give me a call on the next one."

  He'd apparently already stowed his gear in the van, because he headed out right away. She heard the van start up and pull out of the driveway. "So, it seems you should have been here on Saturday after all." "It would seem so. I'm really sorry, Cynthia. I just never dreamed

  the measurement would be this far off." "Yeah, I figured that." "So, what happens next?" "You know I'll have to punish you for messing up. I'm going to assume you're telling the truth. It just doesn't make sense for you to lie about this, so I'm not going to add any extra." "Thank you.I think." "We've already set aside Saturday mornings for punishment times,

  so make sure this Saturday is free." "Yes, ma'am." He'd been standing with is hands clasped in front of himself. At first, he didn't look into her eyes, but when he said that, he did. She saw nervousness, but she also saw desire lurking in their depths.

  "Let's get busy and get this door in. I can hold it upright, but I'm not sure how far I can help move it.Can we lean it against the wall?"

  He hurried to help her shift the large framework and sliders until they could rest them against the wall. Every time he touched her, electricity flared between them, as it had since they'd met. When they were sure the door wasn't going to fall over, she said, "I'm going to get changed and get some work done. Call me when you need a hand getting this thing into place."

  "Okay, thanks." He continued watching her, and she got the impression he was somehow judging her. Finally, he shrugged and turned back to the gaping hole that was the wrong size.

  She went into her room to change into a pair of khaki colored shorts and a matching tank top. Padding through the dining room, she put on a small pot of coffee and dragged out her laptop. She glanced through the doorway and watched him for a minute: measuring and marking where he needed to cut. He looked toward her once, then sheepishly looked back at what he was doing.He'd screwed up, and knew he'd have to pay.

  She'd entered about half her data, when he knocked on the trim around the doorway. "I'll need some help now. Are you sure you can lift one end of that thing?" He nodded towards the large metal frame. "I can get someone over if you—"

  "No, I'll be able to do it. I'm sure, honest," she assured him and got to her feet. She slipped into a pair of running shoes and followed him. He'd taped the sliding glass door open; so one end would be lighter, by far, than the other. She gripped the lighter end, raising it just off the floor. He lifted his end and shuffled them both towards the opening.

  "Easy…" He drew out the word as he guided the bottom of the frame into the space. "There. Just hold it steady; let me do the work, please." He flashed her a smile, and worked the entire framework in. It didn't take more than ten minutes and the door was in place and secured.

  She stepped back and watched him pull the tape free. Sliding the door closed, he turned and faced her. "Thanks, Cynthia. I've got to take a run into the building suppliers and pick up the insulation. I'll tack a sheet of plastic across the opening before I do any of that though. You really don't want fiberglass floating into the main part of the house."

  "Do you do all the insulation, or do you have someone come in?" she asked.

  Sweat glistened off his face and chest—his shirt, long since stripped off and tossed over the lawn chair he'd claimed as his. Even the waistband of
his shorts was dark with sweat. "I do it. But, I'm going to grab one of our student helpers." He chuckled and added, "We have two students who are thinking of getting into the trade. We pay them minimum wage and they get a taste of what it's like. This is a lesson we all have had to learn." "Rather them than me, that's for sure." Cynthia said and smiled. Caleb nodded, going for his shirt. Unbuckling his tool belt, he left

  that on the seat and headed for his truck. That afternoon, the insulation went in and she had the rare opportunity to ogle two beautiful men at work. The view wasn't as nice as it could have been; both wore coveralls and masks. Still, she got to see them straining and cursing while they cut and pushed the soft pink insulation into all the nooks and crannies. Caleb grew short with the young helper when the boy tried slacking off. She heard them arguing for a few minutes before work continued.

  The afternoon went well. They got the walls insulated, and then the two men made a good start on the drywall. By the time their day was done, the boy looked like he was ready to drop. Cynthia was still at her computer when she heard Caleb's tap on the wall.

  "Yeah," she said looking up from her screen. She blinked to clear the numbers from her vision, smiled when she saw him through the clear plastic. He was still in his coveralls. She could see he was tired, but he smiled back at her.

  "Poor kid is about ready to collapse on me." He nodded to the boy who leaned slumped against the far door. "I'm going to run him home now. It's going well, but I know I messed up." He lowered his eyes. A moment he added,"I'll see you tomorrow morning."

  "Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow." She pushed herself up from the table and went to the door in time to see them both leave. The ceiling was drywalled and they'd started on the outside wall of the new room. Bits of insulation littered the floor, and she was careful not to touch, or brush against, anything. Refastening the clear plastic cover, she went back to her computer.