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"You were already honing your fighting skills."
"Yeah." But there was no humor in his voice. "Later that day, I went to the place I hung out at lunch, this spot between two of the buildings where they had a bunch of old desks stacked up. It was quiet. A lot of times I took a nap beneath them instead of going back to class. It was like a tree fort. Eloise was there. I'd never seen her there before, so I figured she must have found it when looking for a place to be by herself. She was crying."
Regina played with his fingers, stroking the rough knuckles, her gaze still on the stars. "What did you do, tough guy?"
He paused, and his lips were closer to her head, breath moist on her scalp. She thought he was inhaling her scent and wondered if he was looking at the stars, the Riverwalk, or if he had his eyes closed. He was still, no fidgeting now.
"I sat down next to her. She was sitting on this pallet, and I was on an old chair, so it made me taller than her. Maybe that's why I did what I did. I felt bigger, like I could protect her and make her feel better, so I hugged her. Held her. Said I was sorry and it was going to be okay."
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Regina could see it, a gawky adolescent boy and a hulking, overweight girl, giving and receiving comfort. One of those not-so-Hallmark moments.
"When she stopped crying, she said she was sorry, too. I noticed how soft her mouth looked, so I leaned down and kissed her. She socked me in the gut and left me wheezing."
Regina chuckled. "Another lesson in the capriciousness of women--and the cluelessness of the hormonal male."
"Yeah, yeah." He flicked her knuckles with his captured hand. "But she was never mean to me again. When she'd see me in the halls, sometimes she'd nod to me. I guess I figured some of it out, then. That it didn't matter that she was so much bigger and stronger physically than I was, or the way she acted... All of us have vulnerable moments, but there's this special quality to a strong woman's, in that rare second when she'll let a guy...help. Make it better. I liked being the guy who helped. It's there even when the woman's not so obviously vulnerable. The diamond in the center of a ring, if that makes sense. A gift."
Yet he regularly shit on that gift in his sessions with Mistresses, the puzzle she had yet to figure out. She could have probed, but she'd told him she'd leave it there. Even though she knew as well as he did they were walking a tightrope over that pool.
He was silent, and she honored that for a time. A whole conversation was going on between their fingers, tangling and untangling, stroking.
"Do you have an opinion about me, Marius?" she asked at last.
She adjusted her head so she was gazing into his face. It made having his arm around her closer to an embrace, increasing her awareness of the press of his biceps against the side of her throat. The flicker in his gaze said he'd noticed, but the crease in his brow said he was puzzling over her question. She explained further.
"I'm not fishing for a canned answer or compliments. It's an exercise I do with my engineers to help them step out of their heads and evaluate human behavior. When we meet someone, we form an opinion. In every subsequent encounter, that opinion is reinforced or changed. However, at any point in time, you'll have one opinion that defines that person for you, like a label or tag. It's how we classify and structure our relationships. Well, not entirely, but engineers can be such linear thinkers, it's a good way to help them learn how to integrate social skills with tech-speak."
She gestured to the people walking by. "Like that man over there with the cigar and the beer belly? Statement: Health crisis waiting to happen and doesn't give a shit, because he's at the age he wants to enjoy his pleasures in life--until a heart attack happens. Then he'll clean up his act for a few months before going right back to the same behavior because he wants what he wants."
She nodded in a different direction. "That teenager at the smoothie vendor? Pretty but doesn't know it. Insecure but stronger in her individuality than she realizes."
She glanced at Marius. "So, what's your opinion of me? Good or bad; doesn't matter."
He shook his head. "That's a female trap if ever I heard one. If you don't like what you hear, you'll pitch me over the rail."
She chuckled. "I'm not like most women. Your opinion of me isn't going to change mine about myself. You don't have that kind of power over me. It's an exercise. So tell me."
He settled back more, a sprawled pose that made letting her hand fall into a resting position on his thigh a natural decision. His fingertips curled against her shoulder, an arrested caress.
"Could I ever have that kind of power?" He spoke quietly, keeping his gaze on her hand.
He wasn't as concerned about her question as the qualifier. It touched her. Even as she warned herself to stay on topic, she had to give him an honest answer. "When you stop abusing it, anything's possible."
"I think you're attracted to lost souls." His gray eyes became more opaque, and she sensed tension in his leg. "That's my opinion."
"Does that bug you?" she asked.
He lifted his shoulder, a non-answer, but he dropped his head back and looked up at the sky. "Angels are attracted to lost souls. To guide them. Guess that's their job, if you believe in angels."
She was amused. "Honey, I'm no angel. And with no aspirations in that direction."
His eyes swiveled to her, his head still resting in its recumbent position. "Lucifer is an angel. And he does take care of lost souls."
She faced him again, her hip on the bench and her cross-legged position allowing her to run her foot teasingly down his shin. Because she propped her elbow on the back of the bench, inside the span of his stretched-out arm, she felt his biceps flex against her when he captured some of her locs in his hand. "I think Mrs. Grant was right about those un-Christian thoughts of yours," she said.
"Maybe." He did something with a small handful of her locs, released them, then did it again. She realized he was winding them around his wrist. Her Domme cravings, already on low simmer with such an intriguing submissive under her fingertips, sparked to flame.
