Laura

 

 

 

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this is just a normal date. He has prepared a healthy Japanese dinner for us, a gigantic spread of sushi rolls, edamame, little pieces of fried chicken, steamed dumplings, and miso soup served in exquisitely designed tiny bowls.

The dining table is close to the open kitchen, which is connected to the living room, still bathing in the last rays of the setting sun. He pulls the chair away from the table for me to sit down, like a true gentleman.

I sit, awkwardly fixing my skirt, even though I know he hates it.

“I included some vegetarian options,” he says, casting me a quick glance to communicate his disaffection with my attempts at modesty. “Just in case.”

“I’m an omnivore,” I say. “I eat everything.”

He laughs and sits down opposite me. “No one eats everything.”

“I do,” I insist. “There’s nothing that I don’t like.”

He casts me a naughty smile.

“I’ll remember that you said that,” he says mischievously, as he pours me a glass of champagne. “Please, eat.”

It’s the first of many orders he will direct at me, but this one is easy to follow. Despite my angst, I’m quite hungry. We clink glasses in a silent toast and begin to eat, engaging in harmless smalltalk about the food. If he’s trying to loosen me up and make things easier, he’s definitely succeeding.

I can’t believe I’m being paid for this, for spending a night with a wealthy and influential man like him. So far, there’s nothing unpleasant about it except the unease I feel about being compensated for sleeping with him, just like a whore or escort. I prefer to compare myself to the latter.

“Since you’re not asking any questions, I assume you’re just waiting for me to tell you what’s next,” he says after a while.

I’m in the process of swallowing a delicious piece of avocado maki, and his comment catches me off-guard.

“Um,” I hurry to say. “I’m assuming we’ll eat and…you know, do stuff afterward?”

I sound like a goddamn teenager, but I can’t help myself. I’ve never been good with words, and since this is my first time, especially not in a situation like this.

“Do stuff,” he mirrors me, shaking his head as he suppresses a laugh. “We’re not going to do stuff tonight, little girl. This is just preparation. We’ll talk, and if we can come to an agreement on everything related to my offer, you’ll sign a contract.”

He pauses, his piercing eyes catching my gaze as if to make sure that I’m listening.

“Believe me, things will be very different once we do stuff,” he adds.

“Oh,” I say. “So, I’m not… I mean, we’re not –”

“Not tonight,” he says. “We need to get some things settled first.”

“Uh, okay,” I say, unsure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. “Like what?”

“For starters, I need to know your hard limits,” he says. “Things that you’re absolutely not okay with doing.”

“My hard limits?” I repeat.

He lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Your innocence is as alluring as it is exhausting,” he laments. “I’m sure it will be easier if I just come right out and ask.”

He clears his throat and takes a sip from his champagne, leaning back in his chair before facing me again. The suit jacket stretches around his upper arm when he brings the flute up to his lips. He must be ripped under there, and a naughty voice inside my head is begging for him to take off his jacket. I’ve never seen him without one, but I’m sure it’s a sight to behold.

“Do you like spankings?” he asks, ripping me away from my musings. “Do you like to be choked? Tied? Whipped? Caned? How hard? Can I leave marks on your perfect skin? Can I fuck your ass? How about your nipples? Are they sensitive? Do you like it when they get played with? Tortured?”

My entire face is glowing with heat, and I hope to God that I don’t look as flushed as I feel. But his confident smile tells me that my heated embarrassment is clear as daylight and written all over my face.

I don’t know what to say. I’ve never done any of those things, so how am I supposed to know whether I like it or not? All I know is the way it makes me feel when I hear him talk about it, when I think about him doing all those things to me.

It excites me. My heart is pounding and my core is throbbing with curious agitation. I’m aroused just by listening to him.

“Is that what you’re going to do to me?” I ask in a hoarse voice.

He nods.

“That’s what I want to do to you,” he says. “That and a whole lot more. I’m not going to tell you everything, but you’ll be on your knees a lot, you’ll cry, you’ll moan, you’ll scream, and you’ll beg.”

“Beg?” I whisper. “Beg for you to stop?”

A smirk graces his handsome face.

“That, too,” he says. “But first and foremost, you’ll beg me to fuck you.”

I inhale audibly, trying to calm myself down.

“That’s a very bold thing to say,” I tell him, clearing my throat and reaching for another piece of sushi. “You certainly don’t lack confidence, do you?”

I’m trying to appear unimpressed by his sinister promises, but my hand is shaking so much that it’s hard for me to hold on to the chopsticks, let alone balance the damn sushi roll with them. I’m making a fool of myself, and he couldn’t be happier to witness it.

“Perfect,” he comments.

That’s all he says. I don’t know what his remark was aimed at, but it unsettles me even more. I finally manage to get a hold of the sushi and deliver it to my mouth as quickly as possible, occupying myself with chewing to escape the feel of his curious eyes. Of course, there’s no way for me to get away from him. He observes me with an intensity that borders on creepy.

“I know you didn’t ask, but here’s what we won’t do,” he says, finally breaking the awkward silence between us. “I’m not a fan of knives and needles. I won’t cut your skin. There also won’t be any medical play, golden showers, or anything that’s related to it.”

He lists those things as if he’s reciting a cake recipe, not showing the slightest hint of embarrassment or disgust, as if it’s something people talk about every day. I’ve no idea what medical play could entail, but I know I’m happy that there won’t be any of the other things he’s mentioned. They were so far off limits for me that I hadn’t even considered the possibility.

“That’s fine with me,” I respond. “More than fine.”

He regards me with a serious look. “Good.”

Silence stretches between us, before he asks another question.

“Can I fuck you bare?”

I regard him with a quizzical look, and he lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Are you on birth control? Are you clean?” he clarifies. “Is it safe to fuck you without a condom?”

“Oh,” I blush. “Yes, it is.”

He smiles. “Good. Very good.”

His eyes scan the table between us.

“Are you done eating?”

I hurry to nod. “Yes, it was very good, thank y–”

“No need for pleasantries,” he interrupts, simultaneously jumping up from his chair.

I follow his move automatically and stand up myself, my eyes following him as he takes his glass and the bottle of champagne and gestures over to a seating area in front of the window in the living area.

“Come,” he says, and turns around, walking toward the sofa.

I grab my glass and follow closely behind him, my heart pounding so wildly that I’m sure he must hear it.

He sits down, facing the skyline below us. It’s almost completely dark out now, and the living area is only lit by a few candles on the dining table. The feeble light doesn’t seem to bother him, though.

I follow his motion to sit down next to him. My unruly skirt travels up my legs once again, but when I try to fix it, he grabs me by the wrist with unusual force.

“Why are you wearing this skirt if you’re shy to share your body with me?” he asks. “Let me enjoy the view.”

I swallow hard and nod without saying a word. He takes the glass out of my hand and places it next to his on the coffee table.

“Now, before we get to the paperwork, there’s one final thing we need to resolve,” he says, locking me down with his hypnotic eyes. He places his warm hand on my thigh.

“What should I call you?”