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She turned to me before she left. “Would you like anything to drink while you wait?”
“No thanks.”
I wasn’t wearing a watch today, so I had no clue how long I waited, but it was too long. There were no magazines or other reading material lying around and without a phone to keep me busy, I was bored. I only had my thoughts to keep me company. I’d never been kept waiting this long by anyone in my life before. Time was money. I was seriously contemplating leaving when the door opened.
The guy who walked in was interesting. Tall and well-built enough to be physically intimidating, but he had a laid-back vibe going on with his casual clothes and longish hair that was tied back. He was an unusual mixture of athlete and hippy.
He had a slight smile on his face while his eyes gave me a long and lingering once-over, but for some reason, his friendly perusal made me bristle.
“Are you my match?” I raised an eyebrow.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Did I give you permission to talk?”
Oh, so that’s how this was going to go. The question was, did I like that? And if not, what was I going to do about it? “I didn’t realize I needed permission.”
He pinned me with a stare, not speaking for what felt like an uncomfortable amount of time. “I read through your entire questionnaire, Baby Girl. I’ve become very familiar with all your desires, your previous experiences, and your hard limits. Did you lie or exaggerate on any of your answers?”
Baby Girl? Um, I wasn’t a fan of that. “No.”
He nodded and dropped his arms to his sides, standing in a more relaxed position. “You indicated you haven’t used a safe word before. Are you comfortable using the traffic light system? Green, Yellow, Red?”
“Yes, that’s fine.”
“Only use ‘green’ if I specifically check in with you and everything is fine. Use yellow at any time if you are close to the edge. I’ll either adjust what I’m doing or stop to talk it through with you, depending on what I see. Red means stop. And everything will stop. Never be afraid to tell me, Baby Girl.”
“Uh, yellow.”
His eyes narrowed. “Speak.”
“I don’t want to be called Baby Girl. It doesn’t … do anything for me.” I had to force myself not to scrunch up my nose in disgust.
“Hmmm. It does something for me. As soon as I saw you, I knew you were my baby girl. And you want to please your Daddy Dom, right?” He had a knowing smirk on his face. He had to know this rubbed me the wrong way. It sounded stupid. Not sexy.
I breathed evenly. “I’m not into calling you Daddy. How about Sir?”
“No. Only one person calls me Sir.”
Was he not going to back down on this? If I had to call him Daddy all the time, it would kill the mood. “I don’t have any daddy issues. In fact, I have a great relationship with my dad. A healthy relationship. Calling you Daddy just seems weird.”
“I went over your questionnaire very carefully, Baby Girl. I am extremely in tune with your needs and desires. For instance, I’ve never come across a score lower than yours for submission through service.” He chuckled. “So, Baby Girl, I wouldn’t ask you to clean toilets or mop floors for me. It wouldn’t please you to do it for me, so it wouldn’t please me. So, having you call me Master and calling you my Slave wouldn’t be a great fit. It’s not going to be our dynamic.”
“There’s no freaking way I would do chores like that for you.” I spit out the words like they were acid.
“I know.” His eyes were twinkling at my disgusted outburst.
I forced myself to calm down. “So, how is calling you Daddy a good fit?”
“Good question, Baby Girl. Take off your shirt and I’ll tell you.”
Okay. Now he had my interest, but my eyes flicked to the open door behind him. Someone might walk by, but that thought only sent a ripple of anticipation through me. I pulled off my T-shirt and tossed it on the couch next to me. I was wearing a plain white bra. Nothing fancy, but I’d been aware since a teenager that I’d been blessed with really nice breasts. Unfortunately, he didn’t even peek at them, which was oddly disappointing.
“Your answers indicate you’re looking to be dominated in the bedroom as geared more toward a romantic or sensual experience, where you could surrender completely to a partner you trusted and loved. You want to relinquish control without becoming a slave. Does that sound right, Baby Girl?”
I bit my lip. “That sounds nice, but I don’t want it to be all lovey-dovey and gentle. I want other stuff, too.”
“Good girls get all sorts of rewards. And, if I need to, I will punish you when you misbehave, Baby Girl, but it will always be for your own good. Daddy will take good care of you. You’re already pleasing me. Take off your pants.”
It sounded good, in theory, but hearing ‘Daddy’ still made me cringe internally. I slipped off my flip-flops and loose-fitting yoga pants until I was standing before him in white cotton panties and a white bra.
