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Wandering in the Night [RA and Chanti]

R

RandomAttributes

Planetoid
Joined
May 8, 2014
Blaine was starting to become a regular at the local Olive Garden, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. On one hand, it made setting up his reservation easy: the waiting staff no knew he would insist for a table off to the side, away from the hustle and bustle of the middle aisles. They could almost recognize him by name now, and knew that he always showed up first to make sure the table was to his liking.

They also knew that, more likely than not, he would be eating with a woman that was different from the woman he had brought in last time.

That was the part Blaine disliked. Olive Garden was perfect for many things, but ultimately he had met with four woman in less than four weeks at the restaurant. His ad was working...if only he could find a sub that would catch and hold his interest.

His blue eyes flicked off to the side as he sighed heavily. The waiter that was leading him to his usual table glanced backwards, trying to offer a friendly smile. "Sir," he asked, gesturing to the corner table. "is everything satisfactory?" Blaine, sensing what the young man was really prompting him for, offered a polite smile and extended a hand to shake.

"It is, thank you." As smooth as silk, the $20 bill passed between the two hands and was slipped into the server's pants pocket. "My date should be arriving shortly - she'll know to ask for me." He didn't even need to remind them of his name. The teenage server mere nodded, confirmed that they would keep an eye out, and then left to return to the greeting station.

Sighing once again, Blaine took the seat that faced the rest of the room so he could keep an eye out himself. However, out of habit his fingers went to his phone. They hadn't yet exchanged numbers, but Leah had said in her last online message that she would be able to meet...And he had described himself to give her a better idea of who to look for. 6'2", black hair, blue eyes, wearing a watch on his left wrist. Blaine had taken care to swap his usual one out for a simpler model with black leather straps.

To distract himself, Blaine idly plucked at the sleeve of his sweater. It was a dark grey, simple and fitted to his body. When it was paired with a set of dark-wash jeans and black shoes, he thought it was good enough for a date. In fact, he had worn something similar to the other dates, which made it feel almost like a uniform. Blaine sighed once again at that thought, brow furrowing for just a moment. Leah had been interesting and cute online when they had talked, and that was what made Blaine interested to meet. From what he could tell, this was truly her first experience with anything BDSM, and that made her different from the others. But while he was trying to be optimistic, the previous failures weighed on his mind and kept the man reserved.

He would have to wait and see.
 
RE: Never Alone [RA and Chanti]

The smell of turpentine did not mix well with the light floral scent of her cheap perfume. Leah had to jam one of the windows of her third floor apartment open as she raced to get ready, sighing when the thing insisted on remaining cock-eyed in the window frame. But it let the fresh air in and the sharp smell of the wood varnish out, so it worked. She flew around her miniscule apartment as she got ready, moving around the paint-blotched plastic on her bedroom floor with the bedside table in the center, the wood varnish still gleaming wetly. It was her third day working on it, she had gotten it free from Craigslist and stripped four layers of paint off it before getting down to the natural wood. She figured when she was done she would be able to make an extra $20 off it.

But for now that table was the last thing on her mind as she stared at her bed with the skimpy contents of her closet spread over it. This was her second…no…third meeting with a dom on fetlife. But the first one didn’t count since she had never actually sat DOWN in the restaurant. She had appeared, seen his balding head and cruel smile and bulging muscles and promptly left again. So that one didn’t count. The second had lasted a bit longer…all of ten minutes before she got creeped out when he started taking her picture with his phone and mumbled something about going to the bathroom before disappearing again. Maybe with this one she would be able to actually eat. She hoped so…Olive Garden was a really nice restaurant, and she would hate to pass up some of their delicious food.

With a sigh she grabbed the same dress she had worn the other two times. It was cute. A dark blue dress with tiny white polka-dots, flirty and fluttery and short enough to pass as sexy. It had been a steal for five dollars at the thrift store. It was, as a matter of fact, her favorite dress. But it would have been nice to wear something different. She slipped the dress on and slid her feet into some strappy heels, then ran to the bathroom where she quickly applied her makeup and braided her long golden brown hair she was so obnoxiously proud of. Most girls hated their hair. She loved hers. It hung to the small of her back when she let it hang free, but tonight she braided it and then coiled the braid around into an elegant knot on the back of her head. A few tendrils were allowed to hang free and frame her heart-shaped face. A few spritzes of perfume and she shut the window and was out the door, all but running to her ratchet looking truck so she wouldn't be late. It was not new by any means, it had cost her three thousand dollars from a craigslist ad, one of her first purchases after graduating college and getting her job. It was an ugly brown color, the radio and air conditioner didn’t work, and it was embarrassingly loud. But it got her where she was going faster than if she walked, and that was all that mattered.

Still, she blushed when she drove up in the Olive Garden parking lot, the truck belching and roaring loudly. People stopped and turned and stared. Leah tried not to duck her head in embarrassment, tried to pretend she didn’t care. She parked it in the back of the parking lot hoping the man she had come to meet would never see it. Clambering out of the truck, she took a deep breath, steadying herself before going inside.

It was normal these days to meet strange men from the internet. Everyone did it. It was a rite of passage. Safer than the bars. It was in a public place, and he had chosen a nice restaurant, not a shitty bar where she would have to worry about her drink being roofied or being mugged when she tried to leave. AND he had told her in his email he would pay, so she hadn’t had to worry about scrounging up enough money for a bowl of soup she could enjoy while binging on the salad and god-worthy bread sticks. This was fine, safe, nothing wrong with it at all. And if she kept telling herself that as she strode through the parking lot, the hem of her dress swinging flirtatiously in the breeze, she MIGHT perhaps convince herself by the time she walked into the restaurant.

But that was not to be. She was still sick with nerves when she walked into the restaurant, her face a bit pale, her light brown eyes a shade bigger than usual. She was certain her smile greeting the wait-staff looked sickly and forced. When she asked for him she stumbled pathetically over his name. God knows she felt like she was going to throw up. What if he was awful looking? What if he was mean? What if he saw in the first instant how terribly nervous she was and laughed in her face? What if he had bad teeth? What if he had bad teeth and tried to KISS her? She followed the ridiculous bubbly waitress through the crowded restaurant, feeling as out of place here as if she were at the Club Med. This was only the second time in her life she had been to Olive Garden, and her eyes tracked the shining, healthy faces of the diners as they ate their rich food on shiny white plates.

Then she saw him. It had to be him. The hostess was headed straight to his table, and he was sitting alone. There were no other options – the only other tables close to nearby was one with two little old women talking loudly about some poor preacher’s wife, and another one with an irritated looking man, a harried looking women, and two evil looking little kids. No…it was him. The man she had emailed back and forth over the last few weeks, sharing her fantasies and dreams. When it became painfully obvious where they were headed, her lips curled up, crinkling at the corners in a nervous, sweet smile of greeting.

He wasn’t bad looking – actually he was kind of cute, and she didn’t immediately get any vibes that warned her to turn on her heel and cut and run. He looked…normal. Like a gentleman meeting a lady on a date in a nice restaurant. She really liked his eyes, she decided. They were blue and placid, peaceful. Kind. Yes, she really, really liked his eyes. Her smile became less forced and a bit more real as the hostess stopped at his table, dropping her menu across the table from him before discreetly vanishing.

Leah’s stomach rolled threateningly.

“H..hi. I’m Leah.”

God, she sounded like a star-struck schoolgirl. She hadn’t sounded the least bit sexy. Her voice squeaked with nerves, and she had actually STUTTERED. Leah wanted to disappear in the floor, to hit a rewind button on the remote of her life and come in with more confidence. A sure, friendly smile. A brisk, polite greeting. Anything except what she had done, coming in here with a sick smile on her face and a stuttered greeting.
 
RE: Never Alone [RA and Chanti]

It had been a few minutes after the first time he had glanced at the clock on his phone when he spotted the server leading someone back towards his general direction. Right away, he slid the device back - this was it. The server was walking with a type of purpose that came only when he knew exactly where he was going, and the young woman behind him...

Well, looked terrified at being there. It had to be Leah, Blaine decided, lips twitching with an amused sort of smile.

On the internet, she had confessed that she was brand new to the entire BDSM community and experience. Consequently, it did not surprise him that she looked as nervous as she did. He practically expected it, and got to his feet to greet the two as they started nearing the table.

Even with her nerves plastered across her face, she was cute. The dress Leah wore fit her body shape well, and showed off her figure without being over-the-top sexy and revealing. Blaine both noticed and appreciated that, as well as the softer features of her face. At the moment she looked as if she had a bit of a tooth ache when she smiled - he wondered what it would look like to see a real one from her.

Blaine stood up as the two neared the table, white teeth flashing in what he hoped looked like a welcoming and warm smile as he extended a hand to shake. "Hi Leah, nice to meet you. I'm Blaine." It was subtle, but Blaine caught the slight relaxation in her smile - and that was a good sign. The first hurdle vaulted, he figured.

"Please, take a seat." Blaine sat himself back down and patiently allowed a bit of silence as he picked up the wine menu, eyeing the list. Wine had become a staple of his dinner during these meetings, usually to make it more bearable than anything else. During his last meeting with a potential sub who had decided to go on a twenty minute monologue about her cats, he had nearly finished the whole bottle by himself. It had been a bad night, both during the date and during the following hangover. "Feel free to choose anything that catches your eye." After finding a rich, dark wine that sounded interesting to him, he offered the menu by sliding it across the table.

The movement gave him an excuse to lean in slightly, resting his arms onto the table as he watched Leah for a moment. His personality wanted to make him point out her nervousness so he could try to address it head on, but he also knew some people didn't respond to that - Leah would have plenty of chances to learn how direct and honest he was with words later, assuming the date would go well. So instead he tried to stir up small talk, knowing the people around them were too wrapped up in their own conversations to try and overhear theirs.

"Thank you for being willing to meet here. I was curious to meet you after talking like we have on the website." Especially after learning she was new to the culture. Blaine especially liked working with new subs. While it required extra patience and a slower hand, the sessions felt immensely more rewarding than a sub who came to him just to have a good time. To give the night a bit of structure, he shifted and added, "I usually take this first meeting to talk about what we're both looking for and expecting from one another, maybe even talk about schedules and whatnot. And since you're very...erm, new, I can also answer any questions you may have about the culture, or the differences between each type of relationship. If you like, we can start that conversation now." His voice was low and calm as he spoke, and he chose his words carefully. Blaine was looking for the best avenue to help ease Leah's nerves, but he wasn't sure what approach would be best - idle small talk, or addressing the aspects that she might be nervous about. Ultimately, he decided to take a stab just before another server came around to introduce themselves and take their drink orders.
 
RE: Never Alone [RA and Chanti]

His hands were cool, his fingers pressing gently against her own hot fingers, flushed with nerves.

“Thank you.” Still tense with nerves, was unable to meet his eyes, unable to even look into his face. But at least she didn’t stutter this time. The cool wood of the chair hit the backs of her thighs as she sank down in the seat, and she welcomed it. Her entire body was flushed with the heat of embarrassment. The first man she met from fetlife that didn’t freak or creep her out, and she was making a damned fool of herself.

She stared blindly at the menu as he perused the wine selection. She already had three choices lined up, had perused the menu online this morning. If she had doubts about him, she had planned on ordering just a bowl of soup and some ice water so she could afford to pay for it with the ten dollars emergency money she had in her wallet. She wouldn’t feel right allowing a man she had no interest in to pay.

She had planned on offering again to pay her own way, saying it would make her feel better. Give him an out. But now that she was here, and now that he sat across the table from her, she was far too intimidated to do that. He had been quite firm in his last email – he paid. If she tried to insist on paying, it may annoy him. He may think she would make a terrible submissive.

So that left her with her other two choices. The Citrus Chicken Sorrento or the cheaper Garlic Rosemary Chicken. She really preferred the citrus chicken, but both were expensive. Her preferred favorite was only a dollar more, but she felt selfish ordering it over the cheaper dish. But then he handed the wine menu to her and she went blank.

Dear Lord. Wine? She knew nothing about wine. Fortunately she wasn’t really supposed to. She was only twenty, but didn’t remember if she had told him her age. It was on her profile, but he may not have noticed. Or perhaps he forgot. Or maybe he was just handing her the menu since she had the food menu, and could hand both back to the waitress. She set it down on the table, arranging it neatly on top of the food menu, matching their edges precisely flush with each other. Her thinly stretched nerves vibrated with his deep, calm voice, relaxing slightly. She glanced up at him and found herself staring again at his eyes. Those eyes of his were absolutely the most comforting eyes she had ever seen. She didn’t understand it, didn’t know why. But it was easy to see herself submitting to this man. That thought had a brief visual image flash of her naked, on her knees in front of him. Her cheeks flushed and she immediately dropped her eyes to the menu. Then the comforting sound of his voice broke apart into words, and she heard “…schedules.”

She licked her lips unconsciously as he spoke, her pink lips glimmering wetly.

“I work 9-5 Monday through Friday at First National as an accountant.” She peeked up at him. Accountants were notorious for being boring. Would he lose interest in her because of that? She didn’t detect any hint of it in his features.

“I…I know some about…” She glanced around guiltily. They were tucked away in a sun-splashed corner all by themselves, with the closest tables too far away to hear normal conversation. Still, her voice dropped off to a whisper “…bdsm relationships. I read about them online.”

It was said in complete innocence, as if reading it online made it true. Of course she knew on one level it did not, but then on another level she found it easy to believe.

“I…I guess the thing I am most worried about is…umm…pain. I don’t know if I….”

Dear God, she was stuttering again. Then the waitress was there, smiling brightly. She ordered the peach raspberry tea, and barely noticed him ordering his drink. When the waitress asked if she needed a wine glass Leah shook her head.
“I’m not twenty-one for a few more months yet.”

Then the waitress was gone, and Leah swallowed hard and finished her sentence.

“I don’t know if I would like it.” It was said in a rush of embarrassment as she remembered mentioning her interest in spanking and paddling. He probably thought she was an idiot. But she wasn’t talking about THAT when she was talking about pain. It was some of the horrifying things she saw online. Floggings with whips that left dark red welts. Maybe she WOULD like it. On one level it was a titillating thought, to turn her body over like that. On another level, the thought of it terrified her. He would probably be right if he thought she was an idiot. Most of the time it seemed like she didn’t know WHAT she wanted.

Her hand darted for her water glass, and the icy beaded condensation on the side of it felt soothing to her over-heated palm as she sipped it.
 
RE: Never Alone [RA and Chanti]

Ahh. Blaine felt a small note of surprise when Leah easily denied having wine by admitting to her true age. There were very few people her age, he knew, that wouldn't take up an opportunity like that - but after a moment, he decided it made sense. Leah looked to be a rule follower by nature. Even her job as an accountant suggested a sort of order and structure to her day, and her nerves at meeting to talk about BDSM clearly betrayed her innocence. But Blaine smiled at that, glad to see how Leah's eyes flicked up to his. It was a good sign to see her eyes again, which were very expressive and alert, and Blaine wanted to encourage more eye contact going forward.

He passed along his request for the dark wine, but decided to hold off the delivery until his meal. Blaine didn't need it so far.

And then he patiently listened, fingers gently laced together and resting on the table. While Leah talked, he took note of her habits: so far, a lack of eye contact and stuttering was the easiest way for him to notice her nerves. But there was overall a rigid sense about her. He followed where here eyes went, and got a sense that she was expecting some kind of negative reaction from him - almost as if she was preparing herself for some type of rejection right out of the gate. The thought made Blaine internally frown, though he knew it wasn't uncommon. Many first-time subs felt uncomfortable to talk about what they had yet to experience.

Society told people to hide their insecurities and desires to do what was socially acceptable. Blaine made it his job, as a Dom, to teach people the exact opposite.

He nodded quietly for a moment to show he had heard Leah as he collected his thoughts. "That's a valid concern," he reassured quietly, offering another small smile. "Mixing pain with pleasure isn't something everyone likes, and it makes sense that you wouldn't know where you fall just yet. You've never had a chance to try it out, right?" They had briefly discussed that Leah was very new to BDSM, but Blaine had held off on asking about past sexual experiences simply because the question didn't read very well over the internet. In a split second decision, he also decided to gloss over that question again, moving on smoothly to the second part of his explanation.

"We'll be able to find out what you like and don't like through our sessions, which is why I asked about schedule. Mine tends to vary sometimes due to work -" Blaine had mentioned he worked in a few hotels, splitting his time between two or three to float as needed. He had been intentional in phrasing it as if he was a maintenance man, instead of the owner. "- but I am most often available during the evenings. I usually like to start off with doing two, maybe three sessions a week. Each session will have a bit of training and exploring with it, and afterwards we will spend the night together."

As he spoke, he tried to gauge Leah's reactions to his words. If she had been doing research online, it perhaps meant she needed to know specifically what she was getting into before she agreed. "Sessions are meant to be times to explore, but in a safe way. There are steps - for instance, with the pain," Blaine added, "We wouldn't start full-throttle. We would work up to a higher and higher level, and you will have a safe word. If, at any time, you feel a session is getting to be too much, you can use that word to stop the session. The stopping part is non-negotiable for myself." After all, if his sub was expecting him to stop but he didn't, it would be a breakdown of trust - which would make everything else crumble.

And Blaine wanted to earn Leah's trust. Her shy, nervous behavior was practically prodded at his dominant side, making him want to reach out to her and protect her from whatever thoughts were making her so worried. She was definitely sub material, and he was already finding himself idly thinking of what they could do in their first session together.

He took a moment to pause, letting his words sink in for a moment, before offering another sign of good will. "What other questions do you have for me?" Blaine asked. "The internet does have some good information, but I would advise taking it with a grain of salt. Many people who write about the BDSM community either don't live in it themselves, or they are strongly against it and want to rant about it." The thought made him snort softly, and it was only with a great deal of effort that he managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes. People who wrote angry articles about the 'satanic and sinful values' just made him imagine his parents channeling those words into a lecture at him. "I can also answer any questions about myself."
 
RE: Never Alone [RA and Chanti]

Leah loved his smile almost as much as his eyes. Almost. His smile was a comforting thing, but his eyes…those eyes made her feel safe. And hopeful. As if this could actually happen. As if she wasn’t going to go home and dream of him and never hear from him again. Because that was, in all likelihood, going to happen.

She absent-mindedly turned the glass goblet of water around in tiny circles within her finger, tracing abstract patterns in the condensation. The sheer relief that flooded through her when he so easily accepted her worry was surprising. She knew she was worried about it, she didn’t know she had been THAT worried about it. She wasn’t sure she liked the clinical way he referred to their “sessions”, but she supposed in this setting it was better than using the term “hook-up” or “fuck time”. The idea of the serious looking man across the table using THAT term brought a flicker of amusement to her eyes, and she hid a smile by taking a quick sip of the water.

Two or three “sessions” per week. As if he were a therapist. In a way he kind of was, she guessed. It would cut into her extra money quite a bit. She wouldn’t be able to turn around furniture as quickly. But the money she made at the bank took care of her bills and basic needs, the small furniture hobby was just a bit of extra cash she usually ended up stashing in savings if she didn’t splurge on things at the grocery store that she normally wouldn’t buy because it was too expensive.

Looking at him over the table though, with his safe blue eyes and easy, comforting smile….it would so be worth it. She doubted he would keep her for long…but it would hopefully be nice while it lasted.

“I am good with two or three nights, but if I have work the next day I will need to get up early. But…would you mind doing it at my place?”

She flushed scarlet.

“Doing it.”

Like she was a sweaty-palmed high schooler to embarrassed to say the word sex. She hadn’t meant it to come out that way, it was just she was too leery of going over to his own home, on his own territory, alone. Online people recommended when you meet someone online you give their info to a friend or family member so if you disappeared the police had somewhere to start. Leah didn’t have anyone to do that with. It was far safer in her own little apartment where the walls were thin enough if she screamed someone would hear. And hopefully come. Not that she would hold her breath for that to happen…not in her neighborhood. She would definitely have to straighten things up. The night stand in the middle of the floor reeking of varnish MIGHT be a killjoy when it came to kinky fun.

She was familiar with the idea of a safe word, and even though in the previous people she had come across she would have been doubtful of them using it, she believed him. Perhaps it was stupid of her to believe him, but believe him she did. HE would stop.

Questions. She had a list of them. There were actually lists online of things to ask a potential dom. But her nerves ensured she barely remember the list, and she certainly wasn’t going to pull it out of her wallet and begin interrogating him.
Her finger traced the rim of her glass in an unconsciously nervous gesture, but she forced herself to look at him for this next question.

“Have you had submissives before? What do you expect out of me? Like…do you have any rules I need to follow?”

And...with perfect timing the waitress was back with their drinks, inquiring about their order.

Feeling far more comfortable and relaxed then when she had come in, despite her still stressed nerves, Leah only hesitated a moment before ordering the Citrus Chicken Sorrento. Even if she never heard from the man again, she would at least get a delicious meal out of it.

God, wasn't that a mercenary way of thinking? Here he was being nice enough to take her out to a nice, expensive restaurant, and she was gloating about getting a free meal. Free for her, not for him. Irritated with herself, she set the water goblet aside and reached for the tea.
 
RE: Never Alone [RA and Chanti]

Blaine's eyes kept steady focus on Leah's gaze, but out of the corner of his eyes he watched her hands. They were always moving, he noticed - running over the condensation of the water glass, slowly turning the glass in her hands. He wondered if it was merely something to do to calm the nerves, or if that was something she liked to do in general. And just as quickly, Blaine also wondered what Leah would do if he took away that ability with something as simple as a pair of handcuffs.

The corner of his mouth twitched at that thought, and he liked it. Leah had more layers than most of the women he had met with so far. Many of them had been experienced subs, and they knew what they wanted: they looked him straight in the eye and almost demanded a cut-and-dry experience, or believed they already knew what Blaine could offer. Leah, on the other hand, was a process: a give-and-take that was slowly building.

Unconsciously, Blaine was already investing himself into it - and then Leah surprised him. He paused, eyebrows shooting up when she offered her own place of residence instead of merely asking for logistics, or even a hotel (which was the usual meeting grounds for Blaine). It took him only a small moment to recover. "Your place is fine," Blaine replied. "I'll get up when you get up for work, that won't be an issue for me." Really, it was quite lucky. Experience allowed him to stock up on the excuses for why they couldn't use his home - renovations, it was too far away from the city, had just moved. Lying wasn't the ideal way of starting off a Dom/sub relationship, and he was grateful when Leah unintentionally gave him that out.

The other surprise was a blush. Once again Blaine was fighting to hide his amusement as he saw the pink spread across her face, taking a page out of Leah's book by reaching for his own water glass. It was cute. The color added to the brightness of her eyes, and highlighted her innocence in a way that Blaine enjoyed. Already, he could see himself working with her, and wondered how he would begin to build that trust.

Answering questions was always a solid step. Thankfully, the waiter had stopped by at just the right time: Blaine thought his answers over while he idly ordered himself a Chicken Parmesan. By the time the waiter disappeared to the back kitchen Blaine's hands were resting on the table again, fingers laced loosely. Neat and composed, matching a similarly careful face.

"I have had four submissives before," he replied. At first, his words were even and easy. "And never at the same time - I only work one-on-one. The first partnership was for almost a year, during which I learned a lot about both the culture and what it means to be a good Dom." His lips twitched at that. Really, he had almost been the submissive in that situation: his sub had done a lot to show him the ropes. "The others were for varying length, but two ended fairly quickly because we were not as compatible as would be ideal for either party. The departure was mutual and respectful. And I ended the other partnership due to complications." Blaine's eyes dropped as he mentioned the last submissive while he shifted. His tone was carefully neutral, but he quickly led into the second question as he settled himself in again - his eyes flicked back to Leah's, and he smiled.

"There will be rules, yes. There are a few that I have in general, and ask every sub to adhere to. For instance, I ask that every sub try to complete every task I give them, no matter what. Feeling insecurity or anxiety is okay - that we can work through, together - but disobedience is not. I'll never demand for a task that I believe you cannot do. Also, I ask that every sub will be 100% truthful with me and with themselves. What I can offer will be severely diminished if you hide what you like, don't like, or how you feel from me." A playful smirk slide onto his features, and Blaine added almost teasingly, "As for the other rules...You will have to discover for yourself, if you are interested."

His fingers unlaced themselves so he could cross his arms onto the table, leaning in slightly. "I'll ask the same question - what are you expectations of me? Or what would you like me to know about you?"
 
RE: Never Alone [RA and Chanti]

Leah saw his surprise when she asked if they could have their “sessions” in her apartment. God, he thought she was a complete slut. She wanted to explain she didn’t trust him enough to be alone in his house yet. But she couldn’t afford a hotel room, and damned if she was going to ask him to pay for one. Money was a precious, precious thing. He wasn’t rich if he was a maintenance man at a hotel chain. Perhaps he could get free rooms, but she didn’t know that and it would have been awkward asking. It was simpler to just ask him to come to where she felt safest – her own home. But the explanations would have been even more awkward than asking him if he got free hotel rooms, so she said nothing even as she cringed deep inside at the thought of what he must think of her.

She hid a grimace at his phrasing….

“I only work one-on-one”

Like she was a job. Like their “sessions” were work meetings.

“The first partnership…”

Ugh.

She didn’t expect romance, she reminded herself. This was about exploring boundaries. Exploring her sexuality. How many times had she read not to expect her first dom to be her last one? How many times had she read that she would go through many doms before she found the one right for her? This WAS basically a business arrangement. But to have it discussed as one so openly was…disheartening.

Her eyes flicked to his curiously when he mentioned the last relationship. He was hiding something there, she was certain of it. But what? What kind of complications had there been? Had she gotten pregnant, and he didn’t want to be a father? Had she cheated? Had she – god forbid – gotten hurt? She wanted badly to ask, but it wasn’t appropriate. It was his past, and she had no business asking. Really she didn’t have any business asking anything about his past relationships in her opinion, but nearly all the “Questions to ask your new dom” lists had that one on it.

She liked how he emphasized that she tell him about things she did or didn’t like. That was important to her, that she feel comfortable enough to say that. She flashed an answering grin at his little joke, just a hint of impish mischief dancing in her eyes. She liked that – the feeling of anticipation. She wanted desperately to know what those rules were. She hoped he wasn’t TOO strict. He didn’t seem to be, not with that little joke he made. She didn’t think she would like a dom who, like some she had read about, never allowed their subs to look at them. Or made them ask permission to touch them all the time. That seemed boring. She had a sudden mental image of bouncing into Blaine’s lap with a giggling smile, and her eyes dropped as another flush stole across her cheeks.

She considered his question for a long moment.

“I…I guess the most important thing is to be patient with me. You already know I’m not that….umm….experienced. I am forgetful too, and I get distracted easily. So if I break a rule it’s not cause I mean too, it’s either I forgot or got distracted.”
Speaking of distractions….

The smiling waitress was back with salad and breadsticks. Leah was silent while the cheese was grated over the salad. Only when the waitress was gone did she continue, piling the salad on her plate and selecting a breadstick.

“Also…..” She took a deep breath, a pink blush spreading over her cheeks and down her neck. This seemed a very awkward time to say this, but she needed to get it out. “Can I have my own rules? If so, can we make it a rule that there is always light on? It doesn’t have to be a normal light, just a little nightlight will do. But…I’m more comfortable with one on.”

In truth, she HAD to have one on. No light on would immediately result in a safe word. But she didn’t want to let on how important it as to her. Every room in her tiny apartment had an overhead light, at least one lamp, and a nightlight. She would never be alone in the dark again.
 
RE: Never Alone [RA and Chanti]

There it was. Blaine had been waiting to see a less nervous, more genuine smile from Leah, and he got it. His own smile lingered at that, showing his interest as she sifted through her thoughts to answer. I...I guess the most important thing is to just be patient with me.

He listened, knowing it was important, before nodding. "I can be patient," Blaine promised. "Punishments are a natural part of BDSM, but they don't have to be a thing that either of us dislike." Especially if she was one who liked to be spanked a bit. Thankfully, Blaine's tongue had held off on adding that piece: it probably would have scandalized the waiter who had come over with the starting options.

Blaine had no interest in the salad, but he did enjoy their bread sticks. Idly taking one into his hands, he broke it up into four smaller pieces. The delivery of food felt like a natural transition into a different topic of conversation, but Leah hesitantly added one other thing for him to know.

His eyes flicked up again, curious but intent. Rules specially tailored to his sub was something Blaine definitely liked to do, once he felt they were a good match. But Leah's request was so specific, and so easy to accommodate, that Blaine didn't even need to think about it. "Yeah, we can leave a light on," Blaine replied, tone mild. Usually, he noticed that first-time subs liked the opposite - lights completely off until they got used to being naked in front of someone else - but it wasn't something Blaine had come to necessarily expect.

The conversation continued as the food continued to come, and Blaine could say he actually enjoyed the dinner. Although he had bought the full bottle of wine, he ended up only sipping a half glass with his meal. Leah was cute, and interesting to talk to. Every now and then he would notice a blush coloring her face, and Blaine quickly decided that he liked that, too.

And, as promised, Blaine plucked the bill up from the table immediately, hardly even glancing at it as he slid his credit card into the slot and passed it back to the server.

By the time dinner was over, Blaine had made his decision about his next step. "Shall we?" He stood up from the table, glancing over at Leah as he did so. If he had to guess, he thought things went well for both of them. As they walked to the exit, he deftly slid one of his cards out from his wallet. It was a simple black matte with white text - opposite style of his business cards. On it had his full name and his phone number, and nothing else.

"Thank you - I enjoyed our meeting tonight." Blaine stepped closer to Leah as he offered the card. Now that they were standing together, he was distinctly aware of their height difference. Their fingers brushed together, and he leaned in closer to murmur to her. "I'd like to see you again - give me a call when you're ready to start." And then he kissed her, just a quick peck on the cheek. When he pulled away he was smirking, wondering how confident he could be without crossing the line that led to asshole-ery. "I'd look forward to it."


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blaine sighed as he stepped into his bedroom, lifting his shirt up and over his head. The rest of the room was large and simple to match the rest of his home: high, vaulted ceilings, a kind sized bed, fire place and big screen tv. A patio that led to his outdoor pool. He almost felt small in comparison as he tossed his shirt onto the floor and exchanged his jeans for sweatpants. Then, without giving so much as looking at his cell phone, he settled into bed with the local newspaper and the latest stock numbers for the five hotels he owned. It wasn't until late in the night that he finished familiarizing himself with the numbers, responding to emails from his laptop, and making sure he didn't have any surprise meetings pop up in his calendar. When it was time to go to bed he settled into one side, plunged the room into darkness, and fell asleep quickly.
 
RE: Never Alone [RA and Chanti]

Strangers in the Night

Her chicken was delicious. But even better was the conversation. Leah didn't realize just how much she had enjoyed it till it was over. Till she was standing beside her car feeling as if she had been hit by a runaway trained, bewildered and disoriented. She could still smell him - a faint masculine scent that she could not quite define. She could still feel his lips burning a brand onto her cheek, could still see that confident smile that danced on the border of arrogant. She stared down at the card in her numb fingers, and couldn't stop a grin. So like him! Simple. Confident. On the edge of pretentious with its simplicity.

She didn't remember the drive home. She was far too busy going over every single second of the dinner. Remembering the calm assurance in his voice. Remembering the comforting security that somehow lurked in those eyes of his. Remembering his business-like demeanor that at times faded into something that showed a potential for him to be frighteningly intimate. What would it be like, being with him? Would he be as patient with her as she needed? Would he simply want to fuck her and move on?

She was always wary when going home. It was not the best neighborhood. Quite frankly it was a slum. But it was the best she could afford. The parking lot was full of cars as run down or worse as hers – some of them hadn’t been mobile in months. The lot was full of dog piss and shit, and sometimes human piss. Sometimes groups of sketchy looking young men hung around an entrance and she would have to seek out another. Even the narrow, dimly lit hallways were something to be careful of. But tonight she sailed right into her apartment without once glancing around herself, without once checking for anyone lurking in a dark corner. Fortunately none such existed, and when she locked her door behind her she still wore that vacant, silly smile she had been wearing since she had slid into her car in the restaurant parking lot.

What better music to turn on after a night like tonight than Frank Sinatra? She turned on her $250 laptop from Walmart and turned to her “Goldie Oldie” playlist. As Sinatra crooned about Strangers in the Night, Leah changed into jeans and a t-shirt and began cleaning. Partially in protest of the filth that lay outside her door, partially out of pride that it was HER place, Leah kept the little apartment spotless. It didn’t take long to complete her work. She straightened and vacuumed the living room, scrubbed the bathroom, set the now dried gleaming chair into a corner of the bedroom, and rolled up the plastic that had lain on the floor. She took a load of laundry down to the dingy laundry room she hated so much, and stayed down with it, trying to read a novel and failing utterly. More than once she found herself staring blankly at the washing machine or dryer swirling around and around, realizing she had been thinking of him again.

Once her apartment was clean she focused on her lunches for the next week at work. Normally she did that on Saturday, which was tomorrow. But she was restless tonight, and cooked up a quick batch of turkey and barley tomato soup, with a dozen corn and green chili corn muffins. These were carefully packed away into Tupperware containers and put up in the freezer. By then it was late, and though she was not a bit tired she went to bed, stripping down to a pair of panties and crawling between the cool sheets. She left the playlist on. Patsy Cline sang about falling to pieces, and the words brought a sympathetic pang to her heart as she wondered how she would feel if she never saw him again.

She lay there, staring up at the ceiling where the shadows of the room were cast by the nightlight. Remembering again. Remembering the first sight of him. The first time she saw his smile. The swiftness he took the check that had been placed near his plate anyway – as if the staff knew he were paying but he wanted to be certain there was no hesitation that would give her worry. He wanted her to call him. It had taken enough nerve to go onto fetlife in the first place. But he wanted her to take yet another step. She instinctively understood why – there should be no doubt she wanted this. And what was “this”? She thought of him naked here in this room with her. On this bed with her. She sucked in a deep, quivering breath as she cool night breeze from the open window sifted across her bare breasts, imagining his fingers on those same breasts. Imagined her on her knees before him, his pants opened….

A faint hiss of breath, and she was surprised to realize her fingers were inching into her panties towards her already wet pussy. She bit her bottom lip, and allowed her fingers to continue as her thoughts towards towards him again.

The thin sheet shifted as her fingers found her succulent wet flesh, hips rising to meet the rush of sweet pleasure. What would he do to her on that first meeting? Lurid fantasies filled her mind, their bodies naked and slicked with sweat, writhing together here on her bed. She moaned, the sheet sliding away under the pressure of one hand, exposing her naked body to the dimly lit room. High firm breasts thrust upwards to the ceiling, their peaked nipples evident even in the darkness. Her legs were splayed wide, wet flesh glistening as her fingers worked. Slowly, at first. Teasing herself. Soft whimpering panting sounds filling her room as she thought of them together, her lips around him, his fingers twisting in her hair. Her soft sinewy body shifted in curved shadows on the bed as she ground her hips down onto her own fingers. Her hips bucked when she thought of his firm hand – she had noticed how strong it looked when he had picked up the check – slapping against her naked ass. Her moan of pleasure was loud when she thought of him stripping her just for the pleasure of looking at her – no other reason. Dear God, let the sight of her bring him pleasure. She squirmed out of her panties, discarding them onto the floor beside the bed.

Her hand slipped further, her legs spreading even wider, knees coming up to give her more access to her body. One small finger circled the tight pucker of her ass and another strangled moan sounded in the room as she slid that finger into that tight hole. Again, she moved slowly. Teasing herself, tormenting herself. Her hips bucked periodically but she refused to allow her body free reign. She savored the delicious agony as her body screamed for release, letting out delicious needy little whimpers as she fucked her own ass with her finger, her other hand circling her swollen clit, only occasionally flicking it. Only when a faint sheen of sweat glimmered on her skin did she allow herself the release she desperately needed. And when she came, it was with the cry of his name on her lips.

She didn’t even last till noon.

She woke up a little after six in the morning, naked and still smelling of her pleasure from the night before. She showered, ate a little breakfast of poached egg and a slice of tomato on toast, and then roamed around the apartment restlessly. Desperate to call him, and terrified of seeming needy. Between eight and nine she forced herself to leave her apartment, going down to the Saturday morning farmer’s market. She left two hours and $25 poorer, but with a wealth of fresh vegetables. At home she busied herself cleaning and prepping some of the vegetables, storing others away for later use.

And then she found herself restlessly roaming her apartment again. Distracted, pacing from room to room. And when she finally broke down and called him at 11:08 in the morning, Moon River was playing softly in the background, barely able to be heard.

“H…hi. It’s Leah. I…umm…” Even in the privacy of her apartment her face burned scarlet with embarrassment at her stuttering. She forced the rest of it out in a rush.

“I’m ready to start.”
 
"Previously, we had meet together with this particular client to discuss numbers. They demanded nothing less than 15%, plus a term in the contract to re-negotiate on an annual basis. With the cards they hold, it's safe to assume..."

Blaine's eyes were glassy as he stared at, but didn't really see, the man at the front of the room. The room was filled with 15 people in suits - the highest directors of each individual hotel in his chain - plus himself. Usually, talking numbers was of great interest to the man. Today however, he was in the far back and resisting the urge to impatiently tap his genuine Italian leather shoe against the conference room floor.

He was much too busy wondering about Leah to be thinking about numbers. Sure, his day job was important to him: he liked the position he had, knowing he had absolute power...But control over a company was so very different than control in a BDSM partnership. Slipping into his Dom mentality always felt like a breath of fresh air after working for so long, and he hadn't been able to have that particular burst of fresh air in quite a while. On one hand, it made him a little anxious to know whether Leah would accept his offer. But he always wanted to leave the ball in his potential subs court. Blaine didn't even ask for Leah's number on purpose, in case she wanted a free getaway from him. And if she did call, it meant it was completely on her own terms. Give me a call when you're ready to start.

Would she call? From what he could tell, dinner went well...though that didn't mean everything, he reminded himself. There could be second and third thoughts even before she got home. Maybe she had a phone in her hand and couldn't get herself to call, only to realize this wasn't what she wanted.

But dear lord, Blaine hoped this was what she wanted. A naughty thought crossed his mind as he remembered how shy and sweet she was. Just Blaine's type. He could almost imagine that same blush coloring her cheeks as she laid back on a bed, spreading those pretty legs for him to show him all of herself - and he would reward her with murmurs of how beautiful she was while he ran his tongue over her flawless skin, exploring and tasting with his mouth.

"...Sir? What do you think we should do?"

Blaine blinked. Out of sheer self-restrain he didn't start and instead straightened in his chair confidently. "They'll go for seven. Get them to a table, pitch them five, and then seven - from there, we can also talk about re-negotiations at a later time. That's not going to be a part of the contract." The chair scraped across the wood floor as he stood up. "Thank you - please, continue on with the rest of the meeting." The rest of it was internal logistics; they wouldn't need him.

He was halfway to the elevator when his phone vibrated in his suit pocket. Out of habit he nearly answered without even looking at the screen - but then he saw the unknown number. Surprise flashed through him before a bolt of excitement, which Blaine channeled into nearly a purr as he answered. "Hello, this is Blaine."

I'm ready to start.

Stopping off to the side of the hallway, Blaine grinned at the window in front of him. "Tonight then. I can come by around seven, I'll just need your address." And then his voice dropped an octave, low and husky as he murmured, "See you then." As the phone call ended and he pocketed his phone back into the pocket of his suit, Blaine felt the excitement settle into contentment. Leah had called, and they would be meeting for their first session - and hopefully not the last.

Right. Just as quickly at it came, Blaine was back into business. With the unknown gone, his mind could focus much more easily. And there was a lot to do before 7pm.

By the time 7:00 rolled around, Blaine had finished everything on his task list: he had tied up loose ends at work, gotten back to his apartment to change and get ready, and managed to hire a cab for the way there. With him was a backpack filled with necessities: extra clothes, hair and toothbrush, deodorant and extra cologne. For tonight, he had picked another pair of dark wash jeans and loafers with a sapphire blue button-up shirt. In comparison to his usual suit-and-tie Blaine felt quite casual, but he was having second thoughts as he watched the scenery go by. "...Erm, are we in the right place?" Based off of the smaller homes, chunks of road missing, and men in old wife beaters walking outside, he felt quite overdressed.

The taxi-driver gave almost a grunt in response. "Yep." Thank god he had taken a cab, Blaine thought idly. His current-year BMW would have never made it back to his house with all its parts: there were a few carcasses of old vehicles laying to rest on the side of the street, rusting. Blaine couldn't believe this was the part of town where Leah lived. It seemed like the exact opposite of the well-put-together, friendly-but-shy woman he had met. After a moment he caught his thoughts with a small shake of his head. That's fine, Blaine told himself. He had his rules about his own home, after all - so his place was not an option. And Leah had specifically requested her places, which made so many things that much easier. Overall, he was just grateful it was one less thing to worry about.

More aware of his surroundings than before, Blaine slipped out of the car and hoisted his shoulders onto his back. The building in front of him looked extremely weathered, as did a few men who were sitting on the stoop, smoking. Their hard eyes followed Blaine as he walked forwards. "Gentleman." Blaine's greeting was light as he stepped by to get to the key code - suddenly he wished that he had asked for the number, as creepy as that could have sounded to Leah. Thankfully, someone happened to exit as soon as Blaine wanted to enter; he caught the door with his foot and quickly slipped inside.

Immediately, the smell of urine hit his nose. Skirting an ominous-looking puddle, he took to the stairs in search of Leah's door. It took some time, but after double-checking his mental re-collection of her directions, he knocked on one of the apartment doors quietly before taking a step back. His eyes flicked down the hallway as he waited, taking in the rest of the building.
 
Two things never occurred to Leah that perhaps should have.

One was the code to enter the building. That was easy enough to forget, because there was not one. A little over a three months ago when she had first gotten her apartment the shady looking super had assured her the keyless entry would be fixed within the week. It still had not been done. Now she never even thought of it.

The second thing was to be ashamed where she lived. Perhaps if she had sensed he was wealthy she would have been too embarrassed to have him come to her home. But with some of his vague comments she assumed he was a maintenance person for a hotel chain. Even if he was management he would not be all that wealthy. And while she had little experience with wealthy people, she had not gotten any kind of monetarily arrogant impression from him. So even though she knew he probably lived somewhere nicer than she did, she didn’t believe it would have been all that different. It certainly did not help that Leah was ridiculously proud of having her own apartment, despite the lowliness of it. It was her first apartment she had on her own since graduating high school and college. Before then she had lived in tiny studio apartments, often sharing it with three or four other students.

Except for those two things though, everything else occurred to her. By the time his firm knock on the door was heard she was a nervous wreck. She hadn’t know if he would have eaten before coming, but just in case she had retrieved one of her precious expensive organic chickens from the freezer and roasted it with some fresh carrots, potatoes, and onions that she had bought from the farmers market that morning. She made a spiced pear cake and dusted it with powdered sugar and tucked it into the glass cake dish she had gotten from a thrift store for $3. Then she scoured the kitchen clean, vaccuumed the living room again, stripped the fresh sheets on the bed and washed them again. Just in case.

Then she plundered her closet. What did one wear on the first night meeting a dom in private? She couldn’t even call him a boyfriend, and quite frankly had no idea what would be appropriate. She consulted online resources, only to find nothing helpful. She couldn’t wear the same dress she had worn the night before. Jeans and t-shirt? Not dressy enough. Her work outfits? Too dressy. Lingerie? Way too bold a move, and it’s not like she had anything better than a few matching sets of bras and panties. By the time she had everything scattered over her bedroom she was nearly in tears, and in such despair that if she had the nerve she would have called the whole damn thing off.

“No, I can’t meet to fuck. I don’t have anything to wear!”

The thought of it – and his ensuing reaction - had her giggling and managed to divert her from collapsing in tears.

She finally reluctantly settled on a mixture of cute and flirty and sexy. A white lacy frothy skirt that tumbled to just above her knees. A pale buttercup yellow ribbed tanktop. She stuffed everything else back into her closet and drawers, then took a long steaming bath where she shaved and waxed and masked and scrubbed till she glowed squeaky clean pink. Her skin was still damp from her bath when she dressed, boldly leaving out underwear. She rethought that decision at least another dozen times before he came, once going so far as to pick out some panties and a bra before stuffing them back into her drawer. She dried her hair but left it down, tumbling around her narrow shoulders in a riot of strands of silken honey.

At 6:30 she sat at the tiny desk in the living room her laptop was on and opened her oldies list again. It would be perfect, she decided. Until it started playing “The Lady is a Tramp” by Frank Sinatra. No, that would never do. Then Neil Diamond’s “Girl, You’ll be a Woman Soon”. Nope. WAY too suggestive. John Phillips Sousa was fun to mop too. Not so much fun in the bedroom. Despairing of the oldies list she turned to her Beautiful Music playlist. Yes, Charlotte Church and Andre Rieu worked MUCH better.

She was sitting there staring vacantly out the open window when she blushed and realized just how much of a silly schoolgirl she was acting like. She was a grown woman, she scolded herself. Time to act like it.

Then he knocked on the door, and she barely stopped herself from shrieking. Oh dear God, he was here. She couldn’t answer the door like this! Not like this, looking like a mix between an innocent girl from the country and a sleek stripper from some seedy dance club. She had to change, and quickly.

But she couldn’t change. It was far too late. And with bare feet, a sick stomach, and a heart that threatened to beat itself right out of her chest wall, she opened the door. If she had any idea just how delicious she looked with her strained face and big eyes, that thick rich hair framing her small face, and her hardened nipples denting the fabric of the tank top declaring to the world she was going bra-less, she may have been a bit more confident. But she did not know. She felt like a gauche high school girl meeting her crush, instead of a woman meeting a man she had chosen - on even terms.
So instead of a confident greeting, he was met with a half whispered, half croaked...

"Hi."
 
Blaine's head snapped to the door as soon as he heard the doorknob turning, ready with a polite and apologetic smile in case he had accidentally tried the wrong address. But a moment later Leah was in the doorway with eyes as wide as if he had just pulled a gun on her.

"Hey," Blaine greeted, offering a grin. He had managed to successfully bite back a chuckle. "May I come in?"

His eyes had trained onto Leah's face, but internally he was groaning. She look positively stunning. The skirt looked soft and weightless, fluttering around her hips whenever Leah shifted and moved. When paired with the tightness of the tanktop, it showed off her slender, feminine features and flared hips that were in every way seductive to Blaine. The narrowness of the doorway gave him a good excuse to step a bit closer to her as he entered Leah's apartment. His eyes followed the soft locks of her hair down from her shoulders to her back, and he suddenly had the desire to reach out and touch her hair.

It had been nearly three weeks since his last session as a Dom, and Blaine was aching to play again. The roles, the touches, the combination of intimacy and structure - Blaine could think of no better way to unwind after a day of work, and he was eager to show Leah all of the positives. But he could tell she was nervous. It was there in the shiftiness of her eyes, or the way she had whispered to him. And above all, Blaine knew that they needed to start slow, and create a strong foundation.

So instead of pressing himself against Leah, he adjusted the backpack on his shoulders slightly, glancing up as his senses were registering some other type of desire.

"Thank you for letting me come over..." It was a typical, polite thing to say, but Blaine had already lost interest in it as he inhaled. The apartment was saturated with a rich, warm scent that made his stomach ache with hunger. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich was hardly an appropriate meal, especially when eaten haphazardly at a desk. A question with much more emotion behind it ended up popping out of his mouth. "Am I interrupting dinner?" Blaine's voice was almost unconsciously hopeful as he tried to find the source. His eyes fell onto the cake, and the man leaned over, examining as if he were expecting it to be fake. After a moment, Blaine paused.

"Did you make this?" Blaine's voice was somewhere between doubtful and incredulous as he turned to look at Leah with a furrowed, raised brow full of surprsie. No one he knew was good at cooking - fancy cuisine in their family was whatever caterers brought in. But the cake was made beautifully, and showcased in the glass case that he was tempted to poke it just to see if it was real.
 
Perhaps some women would have been offended when his attention was so swiftly taken off her and onto the food. But not Leah. Her bright smile at his astonished pleasure of her cake was a sudden rush, pushing away the pale nervousness of before and lighting up her eyes.

“I wasn’t sure if you would have eaten yet or not. And it’s Saturday, so I had time to cook.” Pink pleasure suffused her cheeks as she slipped past him and retrieved a knife from the drawer.

“You can have a piece now if you want. It’s a spiced pear cake. If you are hungry I have some roast chicken.”

She uncovered the cake, the rich spicy aroma flooding the small kitchen nook as she deftly cut off a slice of moist, soft cake and handed it to him.

It didn’t take her long to take the chicken out of the oven where it was staying warm and prepare it. She took it apart with expert movements, covering a large platter she had gotten from a thrift store with chunks of steaming, tender chicken breast, wings and legs with skin the color of roasted honey. Soft roasted potatoes, onions, and carrots were piled up around the meat. She set these on the bar that separated the kitchen nook from the living room. Her apartment was far too small for an actual dining table, and it wasn’t like she often had company. In fact, had never had company before. Instead, there were tall stools that she sat on and ate at the bar. She had three, but had never before used but one.

Cheap plates and cutlery from bargain basement stores completed the presentation. There was no question that the star of the dinner was the food itself, not a presentation on gleaming china plates and crystal glassware. They would be drinking out of plastic cups from Walmart. She had little to offer except water and sweet iced tea. No $18 bottles of wine here!

But the apartment was clean, and soft music played in the background as they ate. Her eyes moved from his backpack, to his face, then to her plate. But there was real pleasure in her eyes as she watched him eat.


“No, child, you don’t stir the eggs, you beat them. Let me show you.”

The gray-headed matron took the bowl from the child, deft swift movements whipping the eggs up into a frothing frenzy.
“Now pour the milk from the measuring cup into the eggs, and then mix it together.”

The milk splashed as the heavy glass measuring cup shook in the little girl’s hands, but the woman simply wordlessly wiped the splashed milk off the counter.

“Now, make a fist with your hand and plant it deep into the middle of the flour mixture.”

The brown-headed girl did just that, standing on a footstool to be able to reach into the ceramic bowl and driving a small fist into the flour.

“Good! That is called a well. Now pour the milk and eggs into it.”

Together, step by step, the woman taught the child how to make the rich batter. They fried the sausages together, giggling squeals erupting in the kitchen when some grease splattered.

An hour later over a meal of Yorkshire pudding, Margaret Chillingham taught her new foster daughter a life lesson that little Leah Mallory never forgot.

“Leah, what do we need to live? What would cause you to absolutely die if you did not have?”

The little girl pondered that question as she chewed a bit of sausage.

“Air.”

Margaret nodded encouragingly.

“What else?”

“Ummm…food?”

Margaret beamed approval.

“Exactly. We die if we do not eat. Food is life. When you share food with someone, you are sharing a bit of your life with them, giving them strength and the ability to go on for another day.”

Sober brown eyes looked up at Margaret, and she met the gaze with her own.

“I hope you will be a long time with me, Leah. But if not, let me pass this on to you. Food is life. When we share food with someone, we celebrate life itself. Not so long ago, someone once said if you ever want to make a friend, cook for them and share your food with them. People who give you their food, give you their heart.”

A weathered, aged hand patted the young one.

“With this first meal together I hope to begin not only to give you my heart, but to teach you to give yours.”



Here in her tiny little apartment with some drunk bastard singing loudly in the hallway as he made his way to his apartment, Leah felt as if that beloved foster mother she had spent four wonderful years with was here with her, smiling. With that mental image, Leah’s nerves relaxed a bit more. From somewhere deep inside she drew up enough boldness to ask what she had been wanting to know all day. Her gaze slid from her plate to his face.

“Did you…did you have something planned?”

As soon as she said it she felt stupid. Of course he did. He probably had all sorts of plans. But she did not. She had hopes. She had expectations. But no plans. And she desperately wanted to know what HIS plans were for the evening in front of them.
 
I wasn't sure if you would have eaten yet or not. Leah said it so simply, as if it were completely normal. But this was the first time Blaine had met for a session and was then greeted by a meal. It was sweet of Leah. Usually, especially with the nervous beginners, things went one of two extremes: sometimes they would already be in some state of semi-dressed, wanting to jump into it to "get it over with." The other type would nervously shift and eye him up, clinging to their clothes like Blaine was some predator ready to shred them up at a moment's notice.

He paused for only a moment at the invitation to food. The strap on his backpack slid off his shoulders, and Blaine gently propped it against a wall. "I am a little hungry," Blaine admitted with a smirk. "And that cake looks amazing."

That's how he ended up on one of the stools, watching Leah as she moved about her kitchen with grace and confidence. Blaine hardly paid any attention to the drunken singing in the hallway, or the occasional footsteps that one could hear overhead. Instead, his eyes followed Leah: watching her as she lifted the chicken out of the oven, the pride clear in her eyes as she neatly cut the bird up. Blaine couldn't quite tell what he enjoyed seeing more. Leah looked to be the most relaxed and natural as she set up the food, giving him the sense that the meal was going to be every bit of delicious as it looked. But of course, he also couldn't help but admire how her perky breasts swayed and moved with her, nipples pressed against the fabric. Another smirk twitched at his lips, but Blaine merely reached for his fork so he could take his first bite.

Even though it wasn't a surprise, Blaine's eyebrows flew up as he chewed and swallowed. "This is amazing." The vegetables were cooked to perfection, and the chicken was juicy and just right. As he ate, his eyes occasionally flicked to the young woman sitting next to him, amused whenever their glances happened to meet. With a good meal and pretty company, Blaine was more than content; their meeting was off to a good start, which gave him further hope that they would make for a good match.

Blaine let the conversation idle as he transferred himself from chicken to cake, tasting with a renewed sense of amazement. In all his life, he hardly had any memories of his mother or father in the kitchen - no one he knew could cook like this.

He was halfway through his slice of cake when Leah spoke, asking him a question about the night. Immediately, Blaine chuckled and turned to look at the younger woman. "Yes," he said simply, and then made a point of taking another bit of the cake, pausing long and hard. While he wasn't in his "Dom mode," as he colloquially called it, it provided a good opportunity to do a small bit of coaching by using the silence. But after a moment he said lightly, "I do have something planned.

"Before we get started though, I want to make sure we have a safe word. I don't think you'll get anywhere near needing it tonight," Blaine added quickly, holding Leah's gaze steadily, "But we should both know what that word is. Have you thought of one?"

There was also something else Blaine wanted to ask. Wrapped up in the thought of the first session and the food and seeing Leah again made him miss the occasional night-light plugged into the wall, or the lamps strategically set around the apartment. He asked more as a polite gesture for their first session together. "Also, I know you had mentioned leaving the lights on - which is still fine. But would you be okay with a blindfold for a bit?" A gleam of excitement danced in his eyes as he looked at Leah. The first session for him was a lot like popping in his favorite movie: of course, he knew the general plot and how things were supposed to play out. But every time, there was always something he didn't notice before to spark a new thought, idea, and appreciation for the piece as a whole. First-timers for subbing particularly brought that out for Blaine, and he was eager to feel that again. The connection and power that came from teaching someone to submit to him. The rewards that came from when they did, and found something new for themselves.

Suddenly, Blaine was no longer thinking of the cake: his fork was abandoned on the plate as his shoulders turned towards Leah, facing her. "We can get started whenever you're ready."
 
Leah had deliberately avoided eating any of the onions. There was no point in engaging in sexual activity with breath that smelled of onions. Breath that smelled of spiced pear cake should be fine though, and the taste of the cake made up for the lack of onions. She was glad of the choice he had made when he answered her question in the affirmative, but the long pregnant pause after had her shifting on the stool, curious eyes meeting his.

She HAD thought of a safe word. Of course she knew what it was, she wasn’t THAT ignorant. Something she did not like, something that would never normally be said during sex. At first she had considered peas, because she disliked peas. But that sounded too much like please, and she doubted it would be accepted. So she had decided to go with the most common choice of words.

“I think Red would do fine. Most people seem to use it, so I wouldn’t have to try to think of what my safe word is.”

The next question had Leah pensive and nervous. Her first instinct was to say no. But he looks SO excited, and she was curious about what he was excited about. She didn’t want to disappoint him either.

“I guess that would be fine. As long as I can see if I take it off. Just….” She hesitated again, a faint flush coloring her cheeks. “Just don’t leave me alone, please.
The dishes were not done. She left them. All she did was slide the platter of chicken into the fridge so it wouldn’t go bad and put the top of the cake dish back over the cake. Then she was ready, bare feet padding to the side of his stool, skirt swishing, breasts jiggling under that thin tank top with every movement she made. She swallowed hard, her slender throat working. Eyes came up, meeting his with an unexpected boldness – at least unexpected when it came to her. In those eyes were the faint stirrings of something akin to hunger lurking under the nervousness.

“I’m ready.”

And she was, she realized with surprise. All the dread and nerves and fear and anxiety leading up to this moment…she was ready. Ready to let him take over now. The remaining nervous stiffness in her body relaxed with those words. Oh, she was still terribly nervous…but it was a safe nervousness. Now, she didn’t feel like it all rested on her shoulders. Now she had only to follow his lead, wherever that would take her.
 
"Red would be fine," Blaine agreed with a nod. It was simple, clear, and easy to remember - perfect by all of his accounts. "Red it is."

Leah's hesitation at the blindfold made him pause out of instinct, patiently waiting for her to respond. Just don't leave me alone, please. The request, when paired with the other one about keeping the lights on, clued him in that it was more than just a safety measure for her - the darkness was a fear for her. But that was okay. His smile widened once she agreed, please that she was already starting to push herself a bit out of her comfort zone. Blaine wanted to let her know it was appreciated, and slid off the chair easily. "Oh don't worry," he said softly, playful mischief dancing in his eyes. "I won't be leaving you alone tonight."

His backpack was only a few feet away, and Blaine made a quick diversion over to it, abandoning his plate on the counter top - with the chicken and potatoes gone, onions and carrots lying in a neat clump that was untouched. Blaine crouched, deftly unzipping the small compartment at the front of his backpack. Inside was a brand new, black bandanna that he had neatly folded over several times until it was a band just two inches thick - perfect to put over ones eyes. The piece of fabric stayed in his hand as he straightened up again and reached for Leah with his other hand.

"Come." Slipping into his dominant side was as easy as putting on pants for Blaine, and felt just as comfortable. And there was always a telltale side: his voice got a bit lower, more authoritative and steady whenever he spoke. Blaine took one of Leah's hands in his and immediately turned to lead them into Leah's bedroom - where he assumed she would be the most comfortable at starting their new roles.

All the lights were off, and Blaine made sure to flick one of them on, bathing the room in a warm and healthy glow. Once they were in a patch of open ground, coincidentally right in front of the bed, Blaine turned to Leah. "I'm going to put the bandanna on you," he told her. That part, he left no room for negotiation with his tone. He hoped she would be receptive to the action, even as nervous as she may be. "Remember my two rules I mentioned at the restaurant? Those are effective immediately." Blaine paused for a moment or two, letting Leah ready herself in whatever way she needed before he let go of her hand and stepped off to her side slightly to tie the bandanna around her eyes.

Using some sort of blindfold was very common for Blaine and his first session. For one, he liked how it looked on a girl. But mostly, he liked them for what they did. Cutting one's eyesight out of the picture meant they would have to feel and listen, and trust, even if just a bit. His hands were gentle as he pressed the fabric against her brow, tying it loosely before adjusting it so it slid over Leah's eyes. Blaine was silent as he worked, but he watched and took in, trying to learn Leah and gauge her emotions.

"Good. Okay." Stepping back to face Leah, he took up her hands again to give her a sense of where he was. Plus, the physical touch always helped with establishing a bond. His voice was soft, hardly above a murmur as his eyes wandered over Leah's slender frame. "In this space, when we are together like this, you may address me as 'Sir' or 'Master.' Nothing else." Excitement hummed in his veins as Blaine spoke, hiding under the surface of his skin and his calm, firm words. There was something to Leah, he sensed - something that held a weight to it, made her unique. Even though it had just happened not five minutes ago, his mind was already replaying the look she had given him before they started: sure and slightly bold, and a shimmer of something more. Something that he suspected may come out once Leah allowed herself to submerge into the pleasure that could come from submitting to someone else.

Both of his thumbs gently stroked over the backs of Leah's hands, trying to coax any stiff nervousness to relax in Leah. "Do you understand?"
 
There was no defining that delicious shiver that raced up her backbone when he flashed that wicked smile and assured her he would not be leaving her tonight. So he would be staying. Her mouth went dry as the nerves came back in a sudden rush. Her stomach flipped in nervous anticipation. Warm and soft fingers slipped into his hand, and she let a tiny smile crinkle the corners of her mouth. They were holding hands. Like a couple awkward middle-schoolers. But it wasn’t awkward at all. It felt…right. Like her hand was always supposed to rest in his larger, stronger one.

The bedroom lights were off, but a tiny nightlight by the bed kept it from being completely dark. No room in her apartment was ever completely dark. She took great pains to be certain of that, and had a large selection of backup nightlights and lightbulbs stashed away.

She stood at his side by the bed, unable to look away from the broad expanse. A memory of last night’s “activities” in that bed brought a sudden flush to her cheeks and she almost guiltily looked away towards him.

“Yes.” She knew the rules. Had committed them to memory. Not that they were difficult to remember. What would be the sense of entering the world of bdsm as a submissive if she had no intention of BEING submissive?

Despite her intentions, as soon as that blindfold crossed in front of her eyes and blocked her sight she went rigid. Dark. So dark. Breath caught in her throat. Her hands instinctively moved up to remove the blindfold, fingers fluttering nervously. Then she stopped, and her hands lowered back down again, folding in on each other as she literally wrung her fingers. She was a little bird - alert, ready to set flight to escape danger. When he spoke her face lifted to his, her body leaning slightly towards him. But it was only when his hands touched hers that she started to relax again. Her fingers clutched at him, squeezing hard.

So dark. It pressed down on her, threatening to crush her soul.

But his voice was soothing, and his touch oriented her. She wasn’t alone. No one was coming for. She was with this man she had chosen and felt safe with, no one else.

Sir or Master. She had tormented her over this question, knowing it was coming. It felt…awkward calling a man Master. If he had demanded it she would have done it, but with reluctance. Sir though…Sir felt right. She had actually had to stop herself several times from calling him Sir, feeling it would have been presumptuous. She took a deep breath. Breasts lifting, shadows of her puckered nipples visibly lifting in the thin pale yellow tank top. Lips opening to the candy pink tongue licking them unconsciously. Wet gleaming pink lips.

“Yes, Sir.” It was an erotic, quivering breath. Nerves sexualized. The gentle stroking of his thumbs on the back of her hands left her hands opening, no longer fearfully clenched. Her body instinctively responding to his comfort. No longer frightened of the dark, because he was there with her and she could see the cracks of light seeping in from the edges of the blindfold. Not enough to see anything, but enough to know things were not dark. If she wanted the light, she could have it. Instantly. She was safe.
 
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