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The hostess led them to a small booth near the back of the restaurant. Once their orders were placed, mugs of beer in front of them, Hayden leaned forward. “You’ve had a little time to think things over. Do you still want to come to our holiday party?”
“Absolutely,” she replied staunchly. “In fact, I’ve been doing some research in preparation. Real research, I mean. Not just reading more BDSM romance novels.”
Hayden smiled, pleased. “Do tell,” he encouraged.
“I went online and checked out easily a dozen websites all about BDSM. It was fascinating, reading about real people who actually live the lifestyle, 24/7. I learned the difference between a D/s relationship and a total exchange of power between a Master and a slave. I read a lot about the concept of erotic pain, and its power to transmute into something almost spiritual when the connection is right.”
A rosy blush was moving over her cheeks as she spoke, which Hayden found quite adorable. He was tempted to tease her about it, but decided to cut her some slack. The fact she’d spent time learning more about the lifestyle, and that what she’d learned hadn’t turned her off, was an excellent sign.
Their food arrived, and they didn’t revisit the topic until the waiter brought the check. Dahlia immediately reached for her wallet, but Hayden stopped her. “It’s on me tonight. Okay?”
He could see from her expression that she was gearing up to protest. Like many professional women, especially ones newly successful in their fields, she probably made it a point always to pay her way. Hayden had no problem with that—in a professional situation. But he wanted tonight to feel different—to be different—than any previous interaction between them.
He fixed her with a calm but steady gaze, bending her to his will.
“Okay,” she finally said in a soft voice, letting her hand drop. “Thank you.”
As he hoped, when they returned to her building lobby, Dahlia said, “Would you like to come upstairs for a bit? Maybe have something to drink before you head home?”
“Sure,” he said with a smile. “I’d like that very much.”
As they entered her apartment, Dahlia gestured for Hayden to hang his jacket on the coatrack beside the door, and she did the same. The place was small, the furnishings bland but new and clean, nondescript framed artwork on the walls. The only exception was an ancient recliner covered in rich, buttery leather, a butt-shaped dent in the seat from what must be years of sitting. A tottering pile of medical journals lay on the floor beside it, a laptop on top of them.
Noticing him glancing around, she said with a laugh, “It’s a furnished rental, decorated in the style of the Holiday Inn Express, or maybe an upscale Motel 8. It was the only thing I could find that was remotely affordable on the subway route to the hospital when I took the job back in October.”
“Except that,” he grinned, pointing a finger toward her recliner.
“Except that,” she agreed. “I got that recliner my first year of medical school at a thrift store, and I’ve lugged it wherever I go ever since.”
“Everyone needs at least one comfy place to crash,” Hayden agreed, liking her immensely.
“Wine,” she said briskly, as if recalling herself. “White or red? Chardonnay or cabernet? Those are the choices.”
“I think I’ll just have a glass of ice water,” Hayden said. He wanted to be alert for what he had planned. “But, please,” he added quickly, “you have a glass if you’d like.”
“One glass of ice water coming up,” she said with a smile. “Have a seat. I’ll bring it out. There’s not actually room in my kitchenette for more than one person.” She seemed more relaxed now, in her own space. That was good. He wanted her relaxed.
He sat on the couch, leaning back as he waited for Dahlia to return. He was excited about what he had planned. The first step was to get her to agree. It had been a long time since he’d worked with a total newbie.
With those new to the scene, it was sometimes a challenge to tease out genuine submissive emotions buried beneath a lifetime of denial. Yet, he sensed something in Dahlia, something that went beyond the merely curious. Though he knew he would be wise to keep his expectations in check, he couldn’t deny his excitement at the opportunity to bring her true nature to the fore.
Dahlia came back into the living room, water in one hand, a glass of white wine in the other. After handing him his glass, she sat beside him. She smelled good—something floral with a bit of spice.
He raised his glass to hers. “To new adventures,” he said as they clinked.
“To new adventures,” she echoed. “I like that.”
“Good,” he replied, admiring the long, smooth line of her throat as she sipped her wine. “It’ll be quite an adventure, I assure you.”
