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"Sounds like they're rushing instead of savoring. We may have childlike impulses, but we're not children. Weaving deeper things into the sexual slows things down, while holding onto the promise of more intimacy, making it better when it's finally the right time." She let her attention course over his face and shoulders, the set of his hands on the table. How he wore his clothes, the things happening in his face. "I look at you and imagine a whole list of things I'd order you to do for me, in bed and out. Lay out the nightgown I want to wear, turn down the bed. Kneel by it while I read. Climb in between my legs when I'm ready, burrow under the covers and eat my pussy until I come."
Her itemizing commanded his full attention, and what pleased her was that the entire list drew his interest, confirming her suspicions about his desire to provide both service and pleasure to his Mistress. Leaning forward farther, she ran a thumb over his bottom lip. When he started to part them, she shook her head, pleased when he listened and remained still under her hand. The man had such a mouth. She indulged herself a heartbeat before she sat back and continued. "But a whole lot more than that interests me. Else I wouldn't be here tonight. Anticipation and savoring tell us things about one another, so when sex does happen, it's even better."
He took a swallow of his water and set it down. Rotated it with his fingers tented on the top of the glass, as if he had too much nervous energy to stay still. "You're not bad at delivering a line yourself, Mistress."
She blinked once. "I think it's easier for it to be about the sex for you, Marius. You spend a lot of energy not being straight with others, but you won't assume the same about me."
His eyes went to that quick frost, which he quickly masked behind indifference and a placating spread of his hands. He sat back in the chair, hooking his arm over the empty one next to him. "All I'm saying is a fun fuck has its place. It can get you through the week, with none of the emotional stuff dragging you down. Will he call, will she call, what's the relationship going to be..."
"You've had experience with that?" But he sounded so detached from the process, she wasn't surprised when he shook his head.
"I watch other guys go through it. It's kind of pointless if all they want is to give their dick a workout. I think they figure it's just part of the burden of dealing with women. Though sometimes they find a woman that feels the same way a guy does about it."
"Maybe some of us start out wanting to give our gonads a work out, but then we stumble over something deeper we like," she pointed out. "That's why we go back for more, with future dates."
"Yeah, it happens that way for some guys. It even works out for some of them."
"But not you?"
"I haven't really gone down that path." He shifted forward and started rotating the water glass again.
She dropped her hand over his. "Stay still," she said quietly. "Keep your eyes on the table."
His thick lashes had started to flick upwards, but at her command, he kept them fanned over his cheeks. She moved her foot so the toe of her boot pressed on his shoe, where his leg was bouncing in a staccato against the table base, making it vibrate. "Still. No fidgeting with your Mistress."
The leg stopped, but his voice took on that flat tone that she was starting to realize was the lid on a simmering cauldron. "I thought this was a normal date." His fingers half curled beneath hers
, knuckles pressing up into her palm.
"It is. But as you aptly pointed out, there are things that run beneath the surface of every conversation, no matter how we dress them up. You're a fulltime sub, Marius. And you know I don't ever stop being a Mistress. So when I notice something that needs adjustment to help your 'normal date' skills, I won't let it pass. Be. Still."
The leg had started to move again, but it stopped with a jerk. She closed her eyes and tuned in to the rise and fall of his breath, uneven, erratic, and the steady cadence of her own, though her heart might be tripping an extra beat as he responded to her.
Did he realize what a step that was? He could have set her back with another quip, but instead, he'd reacted to the command automatically. It had been a long time since he'd interacted with a woman outside the scene. A man made such a decision intentionally, with the result that his social skill set diminished. She could integrate some of the structure he understood to help him stay out of trouble. Mostly. She hid a smile at the thought. Even if the boy wasn't fucked up in the head, he'd be a handful. He wanted a Mistress who could hand him his ass whenever he needed it. Whether he realized it or not.
He was a lot of wild, chaotic energy. She'd always liked standing in the middle of a storm.
"You can look up now." She took her hand away and picked up the previous thread of the conversation. "You asked what I do for a living. I consult for engineers and tech people. Sometimes it's guidance for a current project, but lately it's been free form thinking."
"Free form thinking?"
She smiled. He wanted to sound sullen, but she could tell he was curious. He was also calmer, less twitchy. "Engineers and tech people have very rigid thinking processes. It comes from how they're trained in college. They might be able to write programs or design systems that would boggle our minds, but they can't break it down for lay people. And they have very little mechanical or improvisational skills, unless they had them before they went through their formal education. I reintroduce them to those concepts and how to apply them to their work and interacting with clients and non-engineer coworkers."
He nodded, his expression becoming more closed. "Were you one of them? Engineer?"
"Still am. I have a mechanical engineering degree from Georgia Tech. I also have a teaching degree. I went to work out of college for a big corporation, but then I was hired away by a consulting firm they'd brought in to teach what I do now. Usually I travel a lot to do my job, but I've agreed to a two-year contract with the community college as part of their corporate resource program."
His fingers crumpled the napkin, though he stilled again at her look. "Sounds like you're used to the corner office set. Good thing this is all about using one another. Otherwise I'd say you get off on slumming."
She lifted a brow. "You think you're being insulting, but if all that mattered to you was using me to get back into The Zone, our class differences wouldn't bother you."
Unrolling her fork from her napkin, she twirled it in her fingertips, and then brought it down in a swift movement against the top of his hand, still flat on the table. She didn't stab him; merely pressed the tines against the series of veins running from his knuckles to his wrist. She increased the pressure while holding his gaze, which had gone steely gray. He could reach over with his other hand and remove the utensil, brush her away, but he didn't. His acting out against her seemed to have self-imposed boundaries, which also interested her.
"You know what I want in a man, Marius? It's a short list. One who's honest, and who uses his head and follows his heart when it comes to caring for and serving me."
"That's not a long list."
"It has the only things that matter on it." Setting aside the fork, she laced her fingers on the table. "Any other questions?"
