RecipeforSubmission

by Sindra van Yssel

  Her French wasn’t any better, but at least she knew the word for wine. “Ne vin pas. No vin.” She felt the heat come to her face at how badly she was mangling the language, but it was better than not communicating at all.

  He bowed again and walked away.

  She set her elbows on the shiny table and held her face in her hands for a long moment. If she ever saw Drew again, she had a few words to tell him about his restaurant. She certainly wasn’t going to pay for wine she hadn’t ordered. Resigned, she picked up a fork. She had to admit it all smelled absolutely lovely. She picked up a steak knife and started to saw at the salmon, but it flaked off at a touch. Its light pink interior showed that it had been cooked through. They hadn’t even followed her request on that. She looked around, saw the waitress halfway across the room helping another customer with seemingly no intention of bringing her a diet cola, and gave up. She lifted a forkful to her mouth.

  The tartness of the artichoke and the salmon mixed perfectly. She closed her eyes while she felt the salmon flake in her mouth. She hardly even had to chew. So this was why the tables were filled. They probably didn’t mess up every order. She sipped the wine; it was sweet, but not too sweet, the perfect complement to the salmon. She went back and forth between wine and salmon a few times, nibbling and sipping. She lifted a broccoli floret to her mouth and she’d be damned if even that didn’t taste good.

  For the next several minutes she was lost in the food, savoring each forkful. She almost didn’t notice someone sliding into the seat across from her. She looked up and saw Drew Ryan.

  “You.”

  “Were you expecting someone else? When you went ahead and ate, I assumed you were alone.” His eyes were sparkling as if he held all the cards. He’d had that same look on his face when he’d tied her to his bed.

  “Why didn’t you call?”

  “Pierre, my chef, has been sick this week. This is his first day back and I’ve been filling in, which has meant I’ve been here from ten in the morning to after midnight every day.”

  Her face softened. “It’s nice to see you. And the food is delicious.”

  “Thank you. I was watching you eat. It’s good to see someone take such pleasure.”

  She blushed and raised her hand in a futile attempt to hide it. “I ordered it seared, but the cook screwed it up. And I didn’t order the wine.”

  “No, you didn’t. And yes, I found Pierre cursing about the damn patron who wouldn’t trust the chef’s judgment, and the twice-damned waitress who’d asked her how she wanted it. Cecilia’s new. She won’t ask again.”

  “It wasn’t her asking I minded—”

  “But it was her asking that I minded. Anyway, I took what Pierre made to your specifications and tossed it in the trash, much to his delight. And then made the dish myself. The sauce isn’t built to handle the flavor of raw fish, they would fight. And to drink a diet soda with it is a crime against nature.”

  Kyra blinked. Was he angry because she’d ordered the wrong food or drank the wrong drink? But he didn’t sound angry, even if his words were over the top. Passionate, but not angry. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You could try ‘Yes Sir’.”

  Oh my. “Yes Sir.”

  “Do you mind if I join you? I ate but it would be a pleasure to watch you. And I might share in the wine. Compliments of the house. As is the meal.”

  “I can pay for it. I will—”

  “After your order was botched so badly? I couldn’t hear of it. The meal was late, you didn’t get what you ordered—no, no, I insist.”

  You didn’t let me get what I ordered. Damn you. At least now she knew why he had that grin on his face. He did hold all the cards.

  He waved at the waitress and she came quickly, bearing a glass and setting it before him. It looked as if she’d missed her chance to tell him he couldn’t sit down too. Not that she’d been planning on doing it, but she was tempted to take the wind out of his sails. And yet his confidence was also attractive. She wouldn’t have to mother him, that was certain. But she ought to say something.

  “You have a lot of very sexy waitresses.” She meant to say it neutrally but she hadn’t managed to keep the accusation out of her voice. “Not, um, that I’m attracted. Is it part of the hiring process?”

  He chuckled and poured a glass for himself. “You’re thinking they’re my own private harem? I’d never touch an employee in that way, and a few have asked to be touched. And almost all women are sexy, anyway.”

  So he drew at least some lines. “You dodged my question. Sir.”

  “It was impertinent. But since you pressed nicely, yes, the waitresses and the waiters are part of the ambience, but they come in all shapes and sizes. The key isn’t that they have beautiful bodies—it’s that they all think well of themselves. Sometimes too well.” He chuckled and then grew serious. “They eat good food, and it’s a very physically demanding job. Most of them have been here for quite a while. You happened to draw an exception.”

  It had been too long between forkfuls. She’d set the knife aside, as the salmon flaked so easily that it wasn’t necessary or useful. Raising her fork to her mouth, she savored the contrast between the tartness of a sliver of artichoke and the more subtle taste of the fish.

  “So my turn for a question. What brings you here?” Drew asked.

  She shifted her weight. “Would you believe that I was hoping for some of that tuna?”

  “Yes, I would. Is it true?”

  She hadn’t thought of the fact that complimenting his cooking might feed the man’s ego as much as telling him she hoped to run into him. She looked up from her food and met his gaze. “Partly.”

  He smiled. “And the other part?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  He grinned. “I have three pleasures in life—good food, great sex and watching a woman admit something she’s too embarrassed to say.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. He would say something like that. “You like humiliating people.”

  “Humiliate? Never. Embarrass? Certainly. Nothing I love better than a good blush, and yours is coming along nicely. Not quite as red as you were the other day, in the club, almost naked, tied up and on display. Or when you were in my room, spread out, your charms—”

  Kyra laughed. “Okay, okay, you’ve made your point! I came here hoping I would see you. And also because I was hungry. I’d lost myself in my work.”

  He grinned. “I’m fortunate that my work doesn’t interfere with my meals. I’ll make you an offer, then.”

  “One I can’t refuse?”

  “One you can refuse, but won’t.”

  She wondered if he knew how attractive that confident smirk was to her. Probably. He played her so easily. It occurred to her there was some question she wanted to ask him, but she couldn’t remember what it was. “So what’s your offer?”

  “My offer is this, that after you finish eating, you walk out of here with me and follow my directions exactly for the rest of the evening.”

  “Doesn’t sound like a very even deal.”

  “Have we had any even deals yet?”

  She was about to say in the club, but she realized she’d be lying. Yes, they’d taken turns. But what he’d given her was a lot more than she’d given him. She’d been like a gnat trying to sting an elephant, swinging that flogger at him, and he’d left her skin feeling electric and her pussy paradoxically feeling both sated and frustrated. She’d gotten more pleasure than he had, and it wasn’t from her being selfish.

  “No. You’ve always had your way.”

  She expected him to tell her and you enjoyed it, but he didn’t. He smiled and said, “Exactly.”

  Her heart beat harder. Shit. I should go back and work some more. But I’ll be thinking of him the whole time. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding in her chest. “Fine.”

  He smiled. “The restroom is behind you, past two tables and then to your right. Take off your panties and then come
back. In fact, you are never to wear panties again on any date with me.”

  “Why not? And you said after I finish my meal.”

  He chuckled. “You’re very sharp and I like that in a woman. I did indeed. Hold me to it, if you like. I’m afraid my desire got in the way of my restraint.”

  He leaned on the word restraint, and Kyra wondered if it was intentional, and did he mean to remind her of how he’d tied her up? Maybe, maybe not. She didn’t know with him. She suspected she never would know, and he seemed to read her like a book. One thing she was sure of, and that’s that it would give him pleasure for her to follow his orders. She got up, grabbed her purse, and took two steps toward the restroom. Then she remembered what she had wanted to ask him.

  She whirled. “Would you play with a married woman?”

  His face fell. “You’re not married, are you?”

  She hadn’t thought that anything she could say would take that perpetual arrogant smile off his face. Knowing it was a bad idea, she couldn’t resist teasing. “We’re just in it for a bit of fun, right? Nothing serious. You don’t do relationships, anyway.”

  “No, and I don’t do other people’s relationships either,” he said fiercely.

  A couple of heads at the nearby table turned, and Kyra remembered she was in a public place. Worse, he was at his livelihood and she didn’t want to queer that for him in any way. If she kept going to the restroom, she didn’t know if he’d be there when she got back. So she sat down, lifted her left hand, pointed to her naked ring finger and murmured, quietly so as not to make a scene, “Not married, and I’m glad.”

  He stared at her. No, he stared through her, and she felt that if she had been lying he would have known. She was very glad she wasn’t. At last his face softened into a smile. “I don’t mind if you wait until after you finish your food. That food is worth focusing on, after all.”

  She smiled at him impishly, feeling mischievous suddenly. She glanced around, moving to the far side of the seat from the aisle. The people around had lost interest, or at least were too polite to keep staring. So she slid up her skirt quickly, enough that she could hook her panties, and pulled them down and over her knees, dragging the skirt back into some semblance of decency at the same time. She had to wiggle to get them off the rest of the way with any discretion, and when she kicked them off her feet she nudged them to the corner. She suppressed a giggle. Some cleaning crew would find them and wonder, at some point.

  She’d been looking at the table during the whole operation, without really realizing it, and she was startled when she looked back up to see his eyebrows raised and a curious expression on his face. “Or maybe,” he said, “I should require you to wear them every time, so I can watch you take them off.”

  She blushed. “I don’t think I’ll risk that.”

  “I don’t think you want it to be your choice.”

  My choice? Of course I want it to be my choice whether I wear underwear or not. Her heart sped up and she looked at him. He was relaxed and intense all at the same time. At ease with himself, sharply focused on her. Maybe. She felt her nipples tighten into hard little points and knew they’d be completely obvious if she hadn’t been wearing a bra. Would he want that to be his choice too? She squirmed, feeling dampness between her thighs. Fuck. This is turning me on.

  “Part your knees, Kyra.”

  That didn’t help. “How do you know they’re not parted already?”

  “Because you’re still squirming. Open them. No one can see. Even I can’t see. But I’ll see it in your eyes.”

  Slowly, inch by inch, she moved her knees apart, feeling the air on her bare sex. She knew he was right, that no one could see her, for if she raised her knees a few inches they’d hit the bottom of the table.

  “Now enjoy your food,” he directed. She nodded and set to work with her fork again. What had tasted delicious now was mouthwateringly obscene. She drank a little extra wine for courage. I’ll probably regret this later, but not nearly as much as I’ll regret not seeing and feeling all he has in mind. She felt a deep warmth in her core, every primitive instinct telling her that this was exactly where she wanted to be.

  Then she felt his shoe against her pussy, with the tip positioned right at her clit. He smiled at her as if nothing was going on and casually sipped his wine. She thought of moving away, but didn’t. She wanted to move against him, but she wasn’t that brave either. Nor did she trust herself to keep her expression calm while having an orgasm right in the middle of a restaurant. He wouldn’t take it that far, would he? She didn’t know. His foot was moving, sending shocks all up her body. She could barely concentrate on her food, as delicious as it was. She gulped down some more wine, feeling hot despite the chilled liquid.

  “I disinfected my shoe with alcohol before I came over here, by the way.”

  She blinked. She hadn’t even been thinking of that on a conscious level, but she supposed she should have been. “Um, thank you.”

  He grinned.

  Which means he planned that from the moment he saw me here. The panties, the wine, the food, everything was all part of his plan. And he made sure everything was safe, even when I didn’t look out for myself. Yes, it was definitely feeling warm in the restaurant. She felt the worries slide away from her. She set her fork down, picked up some salmon with her fingers and stretched out her tongue to lick the pink morsel from her fingers into her mouth, meeting his eyes as she mmmm’d softly.

  She was going to come if he kept it up, she knew that. But she was determined to move. She’d have to try to remain quiet when the time came. She could always bite her lip. Her hips twitched toward him, eager for more friction on her clit than she was getting, despite her intentions of staying still. She took in a sharp breath. So close now. A little more.

  He grinned. “But I mustn’t distract you from your food. It’ll wreck your appetite.” She felt his foot move away, then heard a clunk as his heel hit the floor.

  She stared at him, gritting her teeth to stop from moaning. He knows exactly how close I am.

  “And I wouldn’t want to leave you hungry.”

  “Bastard,” she muttered.

  “I’ll assume you said ‘Master’, because I’d hate to have to punish you for what I thought you said. You know that I’ll see to all of your needs before the night is through. Trust me, it will be a memorable one.”

  Trust me. To Kyra’s surprise, she did. There was only one thing she trusted herself to say, however. “Yes, Master.”

  Drew leaned back, looking as satisfied as she’d seen any man ever be. He stayed like that for a long several seconds. She watched him as she finished the last few bites of her meal, unused to seeing any man look that happy with her. Then he blinked and the look was gone, replaced by an unreadable poker face.

  Maybe you don’t want me to know you’re pleased. But I know. And I will see that look again.

  Chapter Seven

  Drew knew he’d made a mistake. He’d had things so planned out. He’d even, on the off chance, called Ken up and booked a session at the club. On the regular party nights, the place was jammed and it wasn’t always easy to get the right piece of equipment. But Ken let people rent the place when there wasn’t a party going on—better to make a little money than let it sit idle. It normally would be expensive to have the whole place to himself and Kyra, but Ken owed him a few favors. Drew had helped put together some of the pieces of bondage furniture in the club, and because of that, he already had a key.

  But he’d let her call him Master. He’d encouraged it, even, after she’d called him a bastard. He never let a sub call him that, lest she get ideas that he had something more permanent in mind. And he’d explained to Kyra the difference between a slave and a sub a few days ago. He wondered if she remembered. She was sharp, and he was willing to bet she did. He ought to clarify himself right then and there, but it would destroy the mood. That hadn’t stopped him before when a sub started demanding from him more than he was willing to give.
But everything had gone so well since he’d spotted Kyra in Ryan’s and had formulated his plan. He wasn’t willing to mess it up now, even if it meant trouble later.

  Maybe, said a voice inside him, that’s because you’re going to let this one have a piece of your heart.

  Not bloody likely.

  He stood, holding out a hand to her. “Come.” He kept his voice level, not daring to let any emotion in it lest he come across too hard or too soft.

  She stood, placing her hand in his and smiling. For someone he’d teased to the very brink of orgasm she seemed remarkably content. “Yes, Master.” Her hand felt soft and small and surprisingly relaxed as he closed his own meaty fist around it.

  He led her out of Ryan’s and toward his pickup. This time she didn’t make a comment when he lifted her into the cab, but he thought he saw another smile as his hand briefly held her backside. Nice soft ass. He loved a girl with curves.

  Not until they were five blocks away did she ask where they were going. She’d probably expected him to head toward his Kalorama home, not south toward Carpe Noctem. “Someplace fun,” he told her. He expected her to argue. She didn’t. She leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. He focused on his driving. Looking over at her was too tempting.

  She’d opened her eyes again by the time Drew pulled up to the club. He pulled right into Ken’s space since Ken wasn’t going to be there. “I thought the place only ran on Friday nights.”

  “There’s parties on Saturday nights too, but they’re run by a local group and you have to be a member to go to their parties. Mondays and Thursdays a group of pro Dommes rent it. Tonight, however, we have it all to ourselves.” He grabbed his bag of toys from the back of the cab and got out of the truck.

  “What’s a pro Domme?” asked Kyra. She’d hopped out before he could come around to help her.

  “Professional Dominatrix,” Drew explained as he took her hand. They walked toward the club together. Holding hands reminded him of being a teenager, before he’d discovered the world of kink. He shut that out and tried to refocus on the question. “There’s a huge number of male submissives, but you won’t see very many at parties because their odds of getting what they are looking for are pretty low if they come unattached. There aren’t enough women who prefer the dominant role. As a result, some men pay for the privilege of being spanked or abused or whatever. The law of supply and demand.”