Page 16 of Baby Girl

As soon as she heard the tone of my voice, she stopped walking. She turned and looked back at me, maybe five or six steps beyond me. As soon as she made eyes contact with me, she ran toward me and responded as she ran.

“You, Erik.”

“Act like it, Kelli. Act like it. On my left, each time, understand?”

“Yes sir,” she said as she extended her arm through mine.

As we walked toward the theatre, she inched closer and closer to me, brushing against me each time we walked between the cars in the lot.

“Why did you park so far away from the door?” she turned and asked.

“Well, Kelli, I take care of my things. Be it a car, my motorcycle, my body mind, my body, or you. Things that are important to me, I take precautions to preserve them. I parked far away so no one will park beside me and open their door into my car, leaving a dent. When I get rid of that car in a year or so, it will look like it did the day I bought it.”

I see, that’s good to know,” she said in a supportive tone.

We walked up the steps into the theatre, and I opened the door for her. Her hair looked almost blue in the fluorescent lighting from the parking lot. Long, black, and straight, I smelled her hair products as she entered the building. Passing through the entrance, I smiled as she gripped my arm tightly. We walked to the ticket counter and chose an open line.

“Two for White House Down,” I said to the young man at the counter.

“Twenty one dollars,” he responded.

After handing him the money, we turned to walk toward the concession and restroom area.

“Do you want anything,” I asked, motioning to the counter?

“No,” she said as she shook her head and smiled.

We walked to the counter, arm in arm, and I ordered two bottles of water and I paid the concession clerk. I handed her a bottle of water, and we walked toward the front of the theatre.

“White House Down, theatre number nineteen, second on the left,” the kid said as he tore the tickets in two, handing me half of the tickets back. I started folding the movie tickets in my hands as we walked the second theatre on the left.

“Can I have those?” Kelli asked.

“Have what?”

“The tickets, I collect movie tickets,” she said.

Puzzled, I handed her the tickets. She placed them in her purse, and walked beside me into the theatre. The theatre was dimly lit, and it was about ten minutes before the movie was to begin. We walked to the left side of the theatre and stopped at an aisle that was empty.

“You go first, Kelli, I prefer that you sit on my left,” I said as I motioned to the aisle.

Smiling and without speaking, she slid into her seat in the middle of the aisle. I sat beside her and placed my water in the cup holder in the armrest on my right. I glanced at Kelli, who was looking around the theatre, as if she were doing an inventory of all the patrons. The shadows on her face in the dimly lit theatre presented her face in a different beauty. She was a gorgeous but very simple woman.

The women in the past that I had been exposed to provided me with useful real-world data regarding personalities, preferences, character traits, and character defects. Typically, the women that were more outspoken, personality rich and vibrant were submissive to a degree, but a much lesser degree than a reserved, quiet woman. An intelligent woman that was reserved, slow to ask questions, but quick to answer them, was typically a much more naturally submissive woman.

Submissive women fell into two categories, submissive by choice and submissive by nature. Naturally submissive women were my preference. They were, however, more difficult to find. Women that were submissive by choice were the most common, and preferred to be in sexually submissive roles. A naturally submissive woman actually needed to be in a submissive role to feel as if she were living a useful life.

The availability of a naturally submissive woman was nil for women my age, and almost non-existent at any age. The naturally submissive woman was recognized by a dominant male early in life, and typically would end up in a committed relationship while young. A relationship, regardless of the quality, that would last forever.

Statistically speaking, women who were naturally submissive were in relationships, and the relationships were abusive. The abusive male in the relationship was not only dominant, but controlling, and abusive. The women in these types of relationships were mentally beaten down to a point that they lacked any level of self-esteem, and were reliant upon the dominant abusive male to feel as if they were capable of surviving. Regardless of the level of abuse, the female would stay in the relationship, convinced that they would never be able to find anyone else that would love them. Over time, the pattern of behavior from the abusive male would be far more abusive, and far less loving.

The typical female in this type of abusive relationship would stay, convinced that she would never be able to find anyone else that would even accept her as a partner. Convinced that the alternative was living a life alone, they stayed with their abusive male partner. Physical abuse was common in these types of relationships.

The public perception of the dominant male in a D/s relationship was that he was abusive. Abuse and dominance, in the public eye, were hand-in-hand. In an actual D/s relationship, nothing could be further from the truth. Mental or physical abuse was something that I didn’t tolerate. I often wondered if my non-committal position regarding relationships was in some respect…abusive.

“Channing Tatum is cute, he reminds me of you, Erik,” Kelli said as the lights dimmed.

“How so?” I responded.