What takes time

Okay, so I know I haven't updated this in weeks, and my deepest apologies for that. Work got me busy and stressed, and I've been distracting myself in (unfortunately) mostly non-sexual ways to disarm that.

I have, however, spent a great deal of time working on a story. A simple little story, that didn't start out to be any big deal, but, in the end, is 24 pages long and quite a lengthy exploration of mental dominance and submission. It was much harder to write than I imagined it would be, but in the end, I'm glad that I wrote it. It started as a conversation with a friend - and grew into a fantasy of mammoth proportions. I'll quote the first part below.

Hopefully, though, I'll get back to updating here more.


Working Title: The Suit

Copyright 2006, KA

All Rights Reserved





She knew the type.

Dressed as he was, he had to be a businessman. Maybe visiting from out of town, as she'd never seen him here before. The only word she could come up with to describer him, was sharp. He looked the type to want to tie a beautiful thin woman up in robes while she was wearing sexy lingerie and take pictures of her. Then maybe bend her over a table and fuck her quietly. He was neat-looking, clean and there was an aura of elegance around him that she couldn't ignore. Defintely not her type.

She looked down at her black jeans and red blouse. There was a scuff on her right boot from driving. Her long wavy blonde hair was lose and a little messy. She chided herself for judging him by his appearance, wondering how people would judge her by her dress.

She sat down at a table with some long-time munch acquaintances. Laughed a bit, chatted about work and people. But out of the corner of her eye, she kept seeing him, leaning against the bar and scanning the room as if he were waiting for someone. She met his eyes once, and smiled in a friendly manner, then when back to her conversation.



10 pm came, and with the man at the bar forgotten, she stood and said goodbye to her friends and walked out the small corner pub toward her car.

"Hello." A deep voice said, startling her

She whirled around to find the Suit, as she had unknowingly started calling him in her mind, standing behind her. "Oh. Hello. Something I can help you with?" She asked.

"Perhaps. Why don't you come to my hotel tomorrow night for a drink, and we'll find out." He held out what looked like 2 business cards.

She swallowed hard. It had been weeks since she'd had a play date, and although she was craving one, she was positive this man was not her type. She reached up and took the cards anyway, deciding that she could always call the hotel and cancel.

"Say thank you."

"Hm?" She asked, staring down at the cards in her hand.

"Say thank you." he repeated, his voice a little deeper.

"Oh." She looked up again at him, smiling apologetically. "I'm sorry. Of course. Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow night." Before she could change her mind, she turned on her heel and walked quickly away.



Not my type, not my type, not my type, she repeated to herself as she managed to tame her wild mass of humidity induced curls into a pair of silver barrettes. This is a waste of a good Friday night, she thought and then laughed to herself. "And what?" she said aloud. "You had something better to do than go have a drink with a nice gentleman in a fancy hotel bar?"

She had dressed for him. Over the top of her expensive white lace bra and panties, she'd put on a cream colored blouse and a chocolate brown skirt that came past her knees. Thigh high hose and a pair of brown suede pumps would complete the outfit. Not too sexy, not too formal, but a lady-like outfit all the same. In his response to her email this morning (she'd taken the address off his card and asked him what time he'd like her to meet him), he'd told her to dress in an outfit befitting the meeting place. She'd only been in the hotel bar once, but she knew it wasn't a place for jeans and tshirts.

Her make-up complete, she walked back into the bedroom and stood before the full length mirror. Turning, she made sure that she looked presentable. "Why do I care so much?" she asked aloud. "I don't even know this guy, and he's not my type, and he's not going to give me anything that I want." Huffing at her reflection, she turned away from the mirror and picked up her shoes. "Maybe I just need something else to care about."





After turning her car over the valet, she strode confidently into the dimly lit lobby of the huge hotel. On the drive over, she'd convinced herself that a drink with a nice man and some intelligent conversation would be a good change for her from the guys that she typically dated, and that she intended to enjoy it for what it was. A drink and nothing more.

Stepping into the dark bar, she headed for a high stool near the bartender, and ordered herself a glass of white wine. The bartender smiled politely as he set the glass down in front of her, and wandered off, leaving her staring at her own reflection in the mirror behind. She purposefully turned herself away from the entrance, and busied her hands with the wine glass.

"Hello."

Taking a deep breath, she turned her stood around, a ready smile on her face. "Hello."

He cocked his head toward a dark corner of the bar, where a few high back booths were situated, and then offered his hand to help her down off the stool. "Sit there. I'll be with you momentarily." He picked her glass up off the bar and handed it to her, and then turned away.

Undaunted, she turned from him and walked over to the corner, and chose a booth. Pulling her skirt under her, she slid in and sipped her wine. Before she had set the glass back down, he appeared beside her, and slid into the other side.

"You chose well."

"Hm?"

"The outfit. It suits your hair and skin tone well." He had dressed nearly identically to how he was the night before. Black suit, white shirt, deep burgundy tie. "But the earrings are too big. Take them off."

Her eyes widened a bit at him, but without thinking, she reached up and slipped her beloved silver hoops out of her ears. She turned, to open her purse, but he reached out his hand for them. Reluctantly, she gave them to him.

"You can have them back later." He put them into the breast pocket of his suit, and patted it. "You won't need them for awhile."

Still unsmiling, she looked at him. His blue eyes had a bit of gold flecked into them, and they were smiling at her, as were his full lips.

"Nervous?" he asked.

"I wasn't."

"But you are now."

"Those are my favorite earrings."

"You don't trust me to hold them?"

"You have them, don't you?"

He laughed softly. "You have quite a mouth on you."

"Yes, I suppose I do."

"I don't like the word suppose. You either do, or you don't."

"Then, yes, I do." she raised an eyebrow at him.

"I don't like meek creatures."

"There's a lot you don't like." she said cheekily.

"There's a lot that I do like."

She leaned back in the booth, her arms crossed in front of her. She tilted her head and looked at him again. Last night, the only word she could come up with to describe him was sharp. It still seemed to be the perfect word.

"Like what?"

"Intelligence and wit, both of which you seem to have."

She nodded slightly, allowing herself to be a little arrogant. "And?"

He laughed softly at her again. "Aren't I supposed to be asking you these questions?"

"I don't know. Are you?"

"Enough with the cockiness." he said simply. "Do you know how much it does not suit you?"

She didn't answer.

"Confidence is one thing. I don't like insolence."

"More that you don't like." She mumbled softly.

"Better than you know what I don't like up front. Saves nasty surprises for you later on."

She looked him in the eye again. "Speaking of arrogance, you've already assumed that..."

"I don't think there's a question of that, is there?" he asked, picking up his drink and taking a healthy sip of it. "We both know you're coming upstairs with me."

"We do?"

"We do."

She looked down at the table again.

"I don't see any reason to beat around the bush. You're attracted to me. I'm attracted to you. You obviously saw something in me that lured you, as you don't appear to be the type of woman who's desperate for male attention. You want something from me, as I want something from you. Question is, are you willing to give it to get what you want."

She pictured herself tied up prettily in white rope, against her white lingerie, against her white skin. She liked bondage - loved it, actually - but there was more to it for her that that.

"You've already made assumptions about me, I can tell." he said quietly.

She nodded. "As you've likely made about me."

"Quite." He sipped his drink again, and pushed her wineglass closer to her, indicating she should take a drink. "So, tell me what it is that you're seeking. Pain?"

"Some."

"Humilation?"

"Some." she said quietly, looking around. There were people in the booth directly behind her.

"Bondage?"

She nodded, her eyes imploring him to keep his voice down.

"Sex? Oral? Anal?" he ignored her unspoken plea, and she felt herself go bright red. He smiled at her. "So pretty when you blush, my dear, but answer the question."

"Sex is sometimes a part of it, sure..." she said very quietly. "It doesn't have to be, but it is sometimes."

"It will be." He said firmly. "Explain your limits to me."

She groaned softly. "Couldn't we discuss this..."

"Here. Now."

Her cheeks burned. "Typical limits, I guess." she replied quietly. "Nothing that would land someone in jail or the hospital...."

"So, that's all then."

"Well..."

"I thought not." He tapped his fingers on the table. "Tell me."

"That's all my hard limits, but..." she hesitated. "There are things I don't do with people the first time I play with them..."

"Such as."

"Gags, for one." She swallowed hard. "Heavy pain..."

"And?"

She looked at him, frowning. "Couldn't we please talk about this..."

"Here. Now. Don't make me say it again."

She sighed heavily, and picked up her wineglass, draining it. "Anal sex on a first playdate is unacceptable. Other than those few things, I typically allow things to progress naturally."

He nodded, pleased. "Safeword?"

"On the first few dates, yes."

"Wineglass."

"Hm?"

"Your safeword is wineglass. And now that yours is empty, I think it's time we moved up to my suite."



"Wait." She said urgently. "You haven't told me anything about..."

He smiled and leaned back in the booth. "About what? Don't you already have your mind made up about me?"

Startled, she did not reply.

"You assume that you know what I like. You have, since your eyes first passed over me in the bar last night. I could see it on your face. Why don't you tell me what you believe my wants to be?"

"That's not fair."

"Oh? Why is that? You've pre-judged me. Why is it not fair that I know what you think?"

"But..."

"You don't like to be wrong."

She looked at him.

"You're a smart girl. The last thing you want is to have your instincts and your intelligence called into question."

"Maybe."

"Maybe is another word I do not like." he said simply.

She sighed again and crossed her legs under the table, an uncomfortable warmth spreading from her cheeks, down to her chest and beyond.

"You like to dance on the edge. I can see that silver glint in your eyes, I know it when I see it. You think I'm far too well-dressed and stiff to be able to take you there." He paused. "And you may well be right."

She remained silent, looking at the empty wineglass before her, willing it to be refilled.

"But you won't know for sure until you give me a spin, will you?"

"No."

"Then let's spin."

As soon as the elevator door closed behind them, he ran his hand up her back, and placed his paln against the back of her neck. She watched nervously as he pressed the button for the 22nd floor. He tightened his hand around the back of her neck just a bit, and remained silent. They rode up that way.

When the door opened, he nudged her with his hand, and she walked out in front of him. His hand stayed on her neck, guiding her down the long, lushly carpeted hallway, to a door at the opposite end. Without letting go of her, he slipped a keycard out of his jacket pocket and unlocked the door, leading her inside.

The room was light lowly with a few lamps in the background and appeared to her to be the living room of a large suite. She heard the door shut behind her and jumped a bit. There was a plain wooden chair in the center of the large expanse of space, and he led her to it.

"Sit." Taking his hand from the back of her neck, he turned and walked toward what she assumed was the kitchen area.

She sat down in the chair, it's hard back and seat supporting her firmly. She crossed her legs, and lay her purse on the lap. And waited.

He walked back into the room, carrying two glasses of what looked like ice water. She had expected him to have at least loosened his tie, or taken off his jacket while he was gone, but he had done neither, and for some reason, that disarmed her.

He set the glasses down on an end table, on two available coasters, and turned to look at her. "Uncross your legs." he walked toward her, and took her purse from her lap, laying it on the end table by the water glasses. "Cross your ankles to the side if you must, but do not cross your legs in front of me."

She did as he asked, reluctantly. For some reason, the move made her feel innately vulnerable, and she wasn't ready for that. Yet.

"You should have worn your hair up. I prefer it."

Blushing again, she stayed quiet and watched as he pulled a chair identical to her own across the room, and set it in front of her, leaving a space of about three feet between them. She almost felt as if she wanted to apologize, and the idea of it snapped her back to reality.

----

Nope, that's all you get! :)