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“Yes,” he answered nonchalantly.
I was about to ask him how we were going to do that without menus when the couple sitting at the table a few feet from us arrived. Dante paid no attention to them. I didn’t speak to them, following Dante’s direction, but I did smile at the petite woman who was with a rather good-looking gentleman. She carried a small pillow which she laid on the floor next to his chair. He pulled out the chair and sat, while she... she bowed to him then sat on the pillow, on the floor, next to his chair.
Not wanting to stare, I picked up my wine and swallowed a big gulp. Too much. The sweet red wine filled the back of my throat. I didn’t cough, but quickly took an equally big chug from my water glass. The hand on my thigh started a soothing, stroking massage, curling from my outer to my inner thigh and then back again. I turned to face Dante, ready to ask a question, but not having any idea what to ask.
“Is this what you were referring to?” I angled my head in the couple’s direction.
He nodded. “Among other things. If you’re curious, just watch. That’s why I asked for this table.” He leaned forward, his mouth a breath away from mine. “There will be a lot to see from here. Or, if you choose, ignore it all. Pretend they don’t exist.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as our neighbors engaged in some sort of... was it role play? The woman sat quietly on her pillow by the man’s side. He stroked the top of her head as he spoke with the maître d’.
My eyes met Dante’s again. “Do you know them?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “No. I’ve never seen them before.”
I was about to ask him what his interpretation of the whole pillow thing was, but our waiter appeared to take our order. An order of what, I had no idea.
The waiter completely ignored me, giving all his attention to Dante. He ran through a list of three specials and their sides then asked, “Are you ready to order, sir, or would you like a few more minutes?”
Dante didn’t even ask me what I wanted. “We’ll have the burrata salad with the cold shellfish appetizer. My guest will have the sea bass and I’ll have the Wagyu steak.”
“Excellent, sir. I’ll be back with your appetizer momentarily.”
And that’s how it’s done in the ballroom of the Grand Tropican. The guest, who is not allowed to speak to anyone, also doesn’t get to order. I wanted to be angry with him, but once again, the other couple caught my eye, distracting me from being pissed off at Dante. The man was feeding her, holding the wine glass to the petite blonde’s lips so she could drink from it.
“I want to be irritated that you ordered for me,” I said, “but I suppose I should be grateful that you at least let yourguestsit at the table.”
“Don’t judge, Noemi,” Dante scolded me. “You don’t know them or their relationship. If that’s what they want, who are we to question it?”
I frowned, taking another sip of my wine. Looking around, I saw that the room was starting to fill in as more guests arrived. Throughout dinner and in between courses, Dante’s hand would return to my thigh as my agitation level rose and fell with each new scenario that played out before me. I saw more couples engaged in what was to me bizarre behavior. People wearing masks. Women with collars on. One woman was on a leash, of sorts. It was glittery and sparkly, completely blinged but, it was a leash, nonetheless. Gees. And I had balked about a mere blindfold.
By the time desert and coffee were served, my insides were a hot mess. The food was beyond compare to anything I’d ever eaten before. When I mentioned that to Dante, he agreed.
“The food is why I eat here. This is one of the best restaurants in the world.”
Knowing that he wasn’t there because he liked the voyeuristic approach to fine dining was a relief. “What about,” I nodded towards the couple at the table closest to us. The girl still sat on the pillow and had been hand fed by the man all night.
Dante leaned casually back in the chair, glancing their way, then turning back to face me. “I’m sure they enjoy the food, too.”
“Not what I meant,” I laughed. “And you know that. Do you like... all of this?” I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, but I forged ahead with my questions. I needed to know what he was going to want. What his preferences were. He already caught me off guard with the blindfold and his strange need for secrecy about where we were, which made some sense to me now that I saw the behavior some of the other guests were engaged in.
“I don’t mind it,” he answered directly. “It’s true that I come to the Grand Tropican for privacy. To be left alone and not judged while I’m here. In return for the discretion, I don’t judge others. Whether something is my taste or not is irrelevant. Is that why you’re asking me this question, Noemi? You want to know if I enjoy collars, leashes and mild BDSM displays?”
My back straightened as he purred the last sentence. I had to answer him truthfully. “Yes. I... I think I should know what you expect.”
One eyebrow immediately shot upward. He didn’t answer right away as a waiter appeared to clear the table of our dessert plates.
When the waiter left, Dante leaned over and feathered a light kiss across my mouth. All evening he had been rubbing my thigh or raising my hand to his lips, but this was the first time he’d kissed my mouth.
“I’ve told you, baby girl. No expectations. Don’t get caught up in what you don’t understand.” He paused, rubbing his thumb over my cheek. “Who’s responsible for you tonight?”
“You are,” I answered immediately.
Dante nodded, a pleased expression on his face. “Then stop worrying. If I want collars and leashes,” he glanced with amusement at the blonde woman on the pillow, “or a pet,” I giggled behind my hand, “then that’s what I’ll have, but you have to trust me, baby girl.”
I did. I knew I did. I wouldn’t even be there if I didn’t.
“Trust me to know what’s right for you. What you’ll be comfortable with, what buttons to push and when. You did last night,” he reminded me silkily.
