by Eden Bradley
“I’m an independent consultant. I handle acquisitions and mergers for large corporations.”
“Then I imagine you went to college?”
“I have a degree in business, and one in law. Is this information important to your article?”
“I’m trying to draw a profile. Do you enjoy your work?”
“Yes. It’s exciting. Almost as exciting as talking with a beautiful woman.”
He caught her eye, his gaze glittering. She looked back down at her pad of paper, cleared her throat once more. “So, how long have you been involved in BDSM?”
“Since I was fifteen years old.”
“Fifteen? That can’t be true.”
“Oh, I didn’t know enough to be serious about it. But even then I spanked my first real girlfriend, pinched her thighs. I was doing these things months before we had sex.”
Her cheeks were heating again. To do these things as a teenager! She was no prude, but it was hard to think about him ever being a teenaged boy, never mind putting some young girl over his knee and…good lord, he’d never said that. Where was she getting this stuff?
“So, when did you understand what you were doing, what it was you wanted, exactly?”
“It takes most of us a number of years to know exactly what we want. That applies to any area of our lives, don’t you agree, Magdalena?”
“Maggie,” she corrected automatically, then felt foolish. Why did it mater what this man called her?
“Of course. Maggie.”
There was that twinkle in his eyes again. Was he making fun of her?
“You were saying?” she prompted.
“I was saying that it takes a while for each of us to know ourselves. Sometimes we’re well into adulthood before we know our own hearts, our own desires. But I figured mine out early. By the time I was eighteen I knew. I understood that I found a deep pleasure in bringing pain along with pleasure to the women I was with. That I loved the sense of power I felt when dominating them. That it was natural for me. Looking back I can see that it’s always been there. I’d been able to get my way with teachers, other children. The way I see it, turning to a life of dominance was simply living the truth of who I was. Who I am.”
She realized when he stopped talking and grew quiet that she was leaning toward him, the edge of the table pressing into her ribs. She sat back in her chair, made a few quick notes.
“Do you always use a steno pad to take notes when you’re interviewing someone?”
“What? Yes. I know, it’s old-fashioned. But I feel more in touch with the words this way than I would using those electronic gadgets everyone is so fond of.” Her cheeks went hot again at that admission. She didn’t even know why. Maybe because it was personal? But he was dragging as many personal things from her as she was from him.
“There’s a certain kind of charm in being old-fashioned about some things. Not everything, of course.” He smiled at her. Strong white teeth, almost too perfect. “Your job is certainly not old-fashioned, and yet, I find you utterly charming.”
Her whole body went hot, a liquid flush that began in her face, moved down over her belly, spread to her arms, her legs. She didn’t know what to say.
He sat and watched her. His face was perfectly serious; he wasn’t mocking her. After a moment he said, “Shall we continue with the interview, Magdalena?”
God, she really had to get ahold of herself.
“Um…I had some questions…” She scrambled through her briefcase for the list she’d made before she left New York. After five minutes with him she had a whole new list of things she wanted to know. Like how he looked through her the way he did, as though he could see what was going on in her head. X-ray eyes.
“Why don’t I just talk to you?” he suggested. “You can find your questions later.”
“Yes, sure. Okay.”
She held her pencil over her pad of paper, feeling foolish, totally off balance. She had never before met anyone who could do this to her. She didn’t like it.
He took a calm sip of his drink. “If we’re going to do this interview, if my words are going to be in print, I want you to understand a few things. We are not simply a bunch of perverts. There’s more to this life than that. It’s not just sex. It’s nothing so simple. Yet at the same time, it’s a very basic need we fill by doing the things we do.
“I believe this is a world of overstimulation. We are bombarded on every side; traffic noise, neon lights. It’s a neon world we live in. I believe it takes more and more simply to make us feel anything at all. We are sensual extremists. But I believe we are indulging a need a lot of other people have, but don’t admit to. I think much of the rest of humanity is bored.”
“And you’re never bored?”
“Never.”
“I don’t see how that’s possible. It’s an exaggeration.”
He shrugged, drank again from his glass. The ice cubes had melted into tiny pebbles. “You can’t possibly understand without having experienced what we experience.”
“I’m here for you to tell me. To make me understand.”
“I can try. I will try. Because I’d like for people to know what we’re about, we sensual extremists.”
“So you have an agenda in talking to me?”
He leaned forward, his hands clasped on the linen-draped table. His eyes were on her again, those intense, elemental eyes, and she couldn’t look away. “Yes. But I have to admit to you that since meeting you, my agenda has taken a different turn.”
Her pen clattered to the table. She didn’t pick it up. “What do you mean?”
“I no longer want to tell you what this is all about. I want to show you.”
CHAPTER TWO
HE SAW THE PUPILS OF HER GRAY EYES WIDEN, the only thing that betrayed her sense of shock. On the outside she appeared to be as cool as ever. Her look was cool in itself; pale blond hair cut into a sleek bob that grazed the underside of her delicate chin, those pale gray eyes. Everything about her was long and graceful. Her legs, her neck, even her hands. And her demeanor was of someone utterly in control of her world. But he was someone who had spent his life training himself to pick up on the subtleties of human behavior. It was a large part of what he did as a dominant.
He knew right away she had understood his meaning.
“I am here to conduct an interview, Mr. Knight. Not to become…involved with you on a personal level.”
Back to “Mr. Knight,” was it? Oh, yes, she was absolute stone now. What would it take to soften such a woman? He wanted to do it, knew he could if she would allow it. The idea of conquering that restrained aloofness was exciting.
“This is a very personal subject, Magdalena.”
“I write a sex column. All of my subjects are personal.”
“Yes. But talking to a manufacturer of vibrators is more about a product than it is a person. BDSM is highly personal. It’s about what happens in our heads, even more than what happens on a physical level. The entire history of our lives comes into play in this arena. We all have to ask ourselves: What makes us like this? What makes us want to do these things other people consider deviant? Well, so do we. But we revel in it, anyway.”
He could tell she was trying to absorb all of it. But she was still thinking about his half-veiled suggestion. So was he. She bit her lower lip, her teeth sinking into the soft pink cushion of it. Gorgeous, her mouth. Not a bit of lipstick, yet it was pink and full and glossy.
A part of him wanted to slip a gag between those lovely lips. Another part of him simply wanted to kiss her.
Totally unlike him to think about kissing a woman as much as he did about dominating her.
She said quietly, “I don’t like what you’re suggesting.”
“I am suggesting this for personal reasons, of course. I did say this was personal.” It was true. He had to get his hands on all that pale, silky flesh. His body was buzzing with lust, his groin tight just looking at the way she held her head on her slender neck. He slipped h
is hand around his glass, the dewy moisture cool against his fingertips, but he didn’t want to take his eyes off her long enough to lift his glass and sip. “If you really want to know what this life is all about, the only way to truly know is to experience it yourself. Otherwise all you’re doing is quoting me. That interview could have been conducted by phone.”
His reasoning was every bit as true as his desire for her.
“I’m perfectly fine with quoting you.”
“If you were writing an article about Australia for a travel magazine, would you do it without first going there? Would you simply talk to people, do research on the Internet?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then why treat this issue in such a cavalier fashion?”
She paused, bit her lip again, pushed a lock of her sleek blond hair behind one ear. He could tell she was mulling the idea over. She seemed like the kind of woman who would brave almost anything rather than do her job poorly. The kind of woman who would step up to a challenge. But he knew he didn’t have her yet.
He reached across the table, covered one of her small hands with his. Fragile bones, almost birdlike. “Magdalena. I know you want to do this right, thoroughly. I am offering you a way to do that. I can promise you there will be no sex. Unless, of course, you agree to it. Have you ever heard the saying that the bottom has all the power in a dominant/submissive relationship?”
“Maybe…somewhere.”
“It’s true. You set the rules, the limits. We will negotiate everything before we begin.”
Yes, talk as though it were already a done deal. Manipulative of him, he knew, but he had to have her. Something about her cool reserve, every movement so controlled. And she was too beautiful. She was exactly the kind of woman he loved to bring to her knees, literally and figuratively. Oh, he was a sadist alright. But then, he’d never tried to deny it.
She took a long drink of her wine and set the glass down, but her fingers remained twined around the stem. “What makes you think this would be effective in any way? I mean, this is not something I’m even interested in.”
“Call it instinct. A lot of what I do in the world of domination and submission is instinctive.”
“And your instincts are telling you I’ll write a better article if I allow you to dominate me?”
“No. Logic tells me that.” He leaned toward her, lowered his voice. “My instincts tell me that for a woman like you, so competent and so in control, letting it all go, yielding control to me, would be an enormous relief.”
Heat rose in her pale, smooth cheeks. Her eyes were absolutely blazing. She was angry. But she was also interested. He could see it in the quick rise and fall of her breasts—spectacular breasts—beneath her black turtleneck sweater. He took a sip of his Scotch, giving her a moment to cool off.
“You’re saying you think this is something I need? I’m capable of recognizing my own needs, and taking care of them. I’m a sex columnist, not some repressed prude who isn’t even aware that alternative forms of sexuality exist.”
“I never said you were a prude, or insinuated that you’re repressed. But I think this could be a very interesting discovery for you. And I would be honored to be the one to take you there.”
A pause, then, “You think you’re very smooth, don’t you?”
He shrugged. “Does that really matter? As long as I’m good enough at what I do. I can assure you I am.”
She played with the stem of her wineglass, but her gaze was fixed firmly on his face. Still trying to cover her nerves, her excitement. “There is a fine line between confidence and cockiness, you know.”
“I agree. You’re not the first to accuse me. It doesn’t bother me, this assessment. In this arena I am utterly confident. I wouldn’t allow anyone less skilled, less experienced, to take you there.”
“I haven’t said I’m going.”
“You haven’t said you’re not.”
She stared him down, her gray eyes still smoldering. He knew she was moments from being in his grasp, under his command. His groin tightened at the idea. She really was lovely. Even better that she had a good mind to go with her regal beauty, a strong mind, a strong will. He waited for her answer.
She was absolutely on fire. How was that possible? She had never given much thought before to this whole issue of submission and dominance. But here he was, this stranger, offering her this experience. An experience she found intriguing despite herself. But why not? It wasn’t as though she had anything to lose. And exploring sex was what she did for a living, had done for the four years she’d been writing her column for Citi.
She wouldn’t have to tell her readers, her editor, anyone, that she’d done her research this way. But what an article this could make! That was part of the excitement of it, the attraction, although she had to admit most of it was him. All dark, cocky, male beauty. Sophisticated, elegant. Such a contrast to his deviant sexual proclivities, which made it even better, actually. She wouldn’t be half as attracted to him, to the idea, if he was one of those more classic bad boys.
She’d known from the first moment he’d suggested this that she was going to agree to it. She just didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of giving in too easily. For her own sense of pride, yes, but she gauged him as the kind of man who enjoyed a bit of a chase, a sense of conquering.
“I’m here in San Francisco for two weeks.”
A lift of his dark eyebrow. “Oh?”
He wanted her to come out and say it, that she wanted him to touch her, spank her, whatever other sexual adventures he had in mind. Fine. She’d never had a problem talking dirty at the appropriate moment. She didn’t want to question why it felt appropriate at this moment, in a restaurant, surrounded by people. Why it felt dirtier because of that fact. Why it made her shiver with lust. But she could answer him in civilized terms.
“I will come with you, let you show me this world of yours. I will submit to you, if only to see what I’ve been missing.”
Brave enough words. So why was she shaking?
He smiled, his teeth gleaming like those of a predator. “Shall we begin, then?”
“What? Now?”
“The necessary negotiations take some time. I suggest we get that done today, in the interest of time.”
“These negotiations—we just talk about what will happen?”
“We’ll talk about your limits. I ask questions, you answer. Simple. Would you like to order lunch first?”
“No, thank you.” She couldn’t eat now if her life depended on it. Her blood was racing through her veins, her heart hammering. And between her thighs a desperate heat was growing. Impossible to ignore.
He nodded. “We’ll begin, then.”
She nodded, picked up her wineglass, and drank to soothe her dry throat.
“Let’s start here. Tell me if you have ever done anything which might be considered kinky or outrageous.”
“I’m a sex columnist. Of course I have.”
“Like what?”
“You need to know my sexual history? Are you serious?”
“This is serious business. I have to know certain things about you, so that when you are in my hands, I can gauge what’s going on in your head.”
“In my head?”
“I told you earlier there’s more to this kind of play than the physical aspects. Part of my job is reading your response to whatever it is I might be doing to you.”
A small shudder of heat at those words.
“I’ll need to know, without your speaking, what works for you and what doesn’t.” He paused. “Tell me.”
His commanding tone sent another shiver through her. She could not believe this was happening, that they were having this conversation in the middle of this little Italian restaurant in North Beach.
“I’ve been with a number of men. And two women. I’ve had a ménage with two men. Used a large variety of sex toys.” She could not believe she was saying this!
“Never any bondage? You
’ve never tied a lover up in silk scarves, had a man spank you?”
Her sex went damp. God, would he do these things to her? Did she actually want him to?
“No. Never.”
“Have you ever played with pain in any way? Pinching, that sort of thing?”
“Just rough sex. Nothing different from what a lot of people have done.”
“And did you like it?”
She held his gaze. “Yes.”
He leaned back in his chair, his stance casual, confident as always. “I thought so.”
“Is this part of it? Mocking me?”
“I’m not mocking you. I’m simply pleased that my assessment was correct.” He finished his drink, waved the waiter over, ordered a glass of sparkling water for each of them. “No more alcohol for this kind of discussion. Or when we play, ever. This will be a sensory experience and we must both be able to feel everything fully.”
“You keep calling it ‘play,’ yet at the same time you talk about how serious it is.”
“It is serious play. The things we do can cause damage to the bottom, or submissive. We sadists, we responsible citizens of our community, love to hurt people, but we never want to cause damage.”
“I see.” A hard lump was gathering in her throat. This was all a little scary, yet she was too drawn to him, to the challenge, to the idea of doing such taboo things, to back out now. Maybe the fear was part of the attraction? She didn’t like to think of that. It seemed too strange.
“I’m going to ask you a series of questions about what you might want to try, what is definitely out of the question, and what you might consider at some point. Answer me with a yes, no, or maybe, alright?”
“Yes. Sure.”
“Would you allow me to tie you up? To bind you in other ways?”
“Yes. Why not?”
“To blindfold you?”
“Um…” Why did that idea seem frightening? But deliciously so. “Yes.”
He smiled. Those flashing white teeth again.
All the better to eat you with.
She really had to focus!