Sunday, April 8, 2012

The Lunch Date (Erotica)

Grace stood in line at the counter of the bistro. This was her favorite lunchtime choice, with it's fresh menu and many vegetarian options. As she waited, she got the feeling that she was being watched, not in the casual looking-around-while-chewing-my-food kind of way, but in the way that meant she was the center of someone's attention. She turned inconspicuously to her left, and was met with nothing but the usual casual glances. She took a step forward in line, as she had advanced to one person from the order counter. Still uncomfortable, she glanced to her right, casually swept the patio full of  al fresco diners, suddenly, she saw him, a handsome, imposing gentleman, with a very commanding presence that rocked her back on her heels. Everything seemed to fade from the surroundings, only she and he remained, eyes locked.

Suddenly, an amused smile crossed his attentive face and settled comfortably on his lips. He raised his hand and twirled his index finger, indicating for her to turn. She started, turned, and became aware that the counter-person had had been calling, "Ma'am, can I help you? MA'AM, you're next." Her face blazed with an embarrassed blush, and she apologized profusely, and gave her order. She took her tray, and eyes down, walked towards an empty table, which as luck would have it, was behind the gentleman. As she approached his table he stood, and pulled a chair out for her, and across her path. Her heart began to race, and her mouth went dry. She looked up, only as far as his chest and spoke in a near whisper, indicating the rear table, "I, umm, I was..."

A deep, melodious, amused voice, spoke and seemed to pierce her to her core, "Please, sit, I hate to eat alone." Her hands shook as her tray was removed from her hands, and her meal spread on a thoughtfully spread napkin. The gesture was enough to make her blush deepen. he stepped behind her, and took the chair, touching it to the back of her knees, and she sat, as he placed her chair at the table. She was sure the beating of her heart was visible from across the table, and she clasped her hands so that their shaking could not be seen.

He, however, had noticed all the signs, including the slight tinge of adrenaline that mingled with the scent of her perfume. He extended his hand, palm up, on the table in her line of vision, and for reasons that were entirely unclear to her, she was compelled to place her hand on his. He smiled, closed his fingers over hers, and drew her hand to his lips. "Thomas, and I am very pleased to make your acquaintance." Something drew her eyes to his, and she met them from under her lashes, with a small gasp at the essence that rolled off of him in nearly palpable waves. "I' name is Grace," she murmured. He smiled, lowering her hand and covering it with his other hand, "Quite lovely, as are you. Your name fits perfectly." Again her cheeks blazed with a blush, and she lowered her eyes. "Please, eat," he said and she could hear the smile in his voice. 

As they ate, his companionable conversation put her somewhat at ease, and her attraction was deepening in this attractive, commanding man. As they concluded their lunch, she found a peculiar melancholy creep over her that they would part ways, and hoped he might ask for her number. He stood and moved behind her to pull her chair out, as she rose, and he pushed the chair in, his arm around her waist, he spoke softly, "I would like you to come with me. You're free to say no, and wonder what could have been. Or come with me and explore passions you have only dreamed of." Her knees buckled and he handily caught her, and pulled her back against him to steady her, his lips brushed her hair, "Dare I take that as a yes?" She squeezed her eyes closed and nodded softly. She felt his lips curl in a smile against her cheek, and he said with quiet confidence, "Good," and helped her on with her jacket. He gathered up their plates, in one hand, and extended his arm to her. She glanced up at him shyly and looped her arm through his.

He escorted her to his car, opened the door, helped her inside, and closed the door, before circling the car and getting in himself. The ride was a blur, with her asking herself if she was mad to be going with this handsome stranger. When they arrived at their location, he dismounted, and came around, opened her door, and helped her out of the car, again offering his arm. She fought the urge to turn and run all the way to the door, knowing once on the other side it was too late. Inside, he helped her slip out of her jacket, turned and hung it on a hook, then turned and planted his hands on the the wall on either side of her head, lowering his lips to her neck, she gasped, and it turned to a low moan under his lips, then her knees buckled and she found herself drawn close to his body, by his arm around her waist, "Careful, little one, " he chuckled, "Come." He pushed them away from the wall and led her towards the bedroom. 

Entering the bedroom, he turned closed the door, and turned back to her. In a voice low and smooth as honey, he said, "Take your clothes off, please," as he circled her. Her eyes fluttered, her breath accelerated, ragged, in her chest, and her trembling fingers, she complied, though her brain was screaming that she was insane. When her clothes were removed he stepped behind her, placed his hands on her waist, pulled her back against him, placed his lips against her ear and whispered, "Good girl." Warmth spread through her at his praise, and the thought that she would do almost anything to gain that from him. He stepped back and took her hands, and placed them behind behind her head. He circled her appreciatively, running his hands over her bottom, her belly, her arms, her breasts, bending to run his hands down her legs. His eyes shone appreciatively, "Beautiful." She shook her head, and whispered, "I'm not." His hand drew back, and he swatted her firmly across her bottom. "You will not question or contradict me, is that understood?" Tears pricked her eyes, she nodded. He stroked her cheek, "Good girl." The tears that brimmed her eyes, spilled down her cheek, and he wiped them away.

He kissed her forehead, then brushed his lips across hers, then gently tilted her chin to his, bending his head till their eyes locked, "Beautiful," he said as he nodded, inviting her agreement. Her face blushed furiously, and whispered a barely audible, "Y-yes, Sir," without understanding why she used the honorific. He smiled and bent to her chest, kissing her breasts, circling the areola with his tongue, then flicking her nipples with his tongue, before drawing it into his mouth and sucking gently. She moaned and wobbled on her feet. He suckled her other nipple, then sucked his way down her belly, stopping short of her mound and looping his arm around her when her knees buckled again. He led her to the bed, his back to it, and facing her, her hands still laced behind her head he took note. He brushed her hair away from her face, "Mine," he breathed against her cheek, "and now I will claim what belongs to me. Don't you agree, little one? Do you want Daddy to show you how much he desires you?" She nodded, breathing rapidly. "Good girl," he crooned soothingly.

He sat on the bed and drew her across his lap, his hands firm on her bottom, kneaded and massaged, traced the curves of her cheeks and thighs. Then she felt a curious lack of sensation, until his hand connected solidly with her bottom and she jolted and gasped. He continued to spank, firmly, fast, he felt the initial fight or flight reaction of her body, and could almost feel the war to stay in position, then her body relaxed into what was happening. When he felt her reaching the levels of her endurance, he would stop and massage her gently, lean down whisper reassurance and pride in her ear, trace his fingers down her back, kiss her shoulders, hips, back. Then when she had calmed he would begin again. After once such pause, he drew her to him, and up onto his lap. He let her cry against his shoulder. When she was calmed, he whispered, "Go to the dresser, love, and bring me that paddle, and the flogger next to it." She drew in a sharp breath, but nodded, and began to rise, as his hand dipped between her thighs, and came away glistening. He smiled and she blushed.

She returned with the toys he had requested and he accepted them with a smile, and whispered, "Good girl, face down on the bed, please." She obeyed, and he glowed, his knowledge that he had chosen well growing by the moment. He rubbed the paddle gently across her bottom, then bounced it across her bottom before drawing it back and laying a firm stroke across her cheeks. She raised up momentarily, cried out, then pressed her head to the mattress, and pulled her arms tight under her chest, sobbing, "I'm sorry." He stroked her back gently, and bent to her cheek, kissed the tears away and whispered, "It's okay love, I know it hurts. I'm proud of you. You're taking your spanking very bravely. Just a bit more." She nodded. He kissed her cheek again, then her shoulder, then down her back, then he pressed his lips against her bottom before standing. He caressed her bottom then drew back and gave her a few more minutes with the paddle.

Laying it down, he whispered, "All done, such a good, brave girl." He picked up the flogger laid it against the skin of her back and dragged it from her shoulders to her ankles several times. She moaned under the sensuous feel. He began to rotate his wrists, and let the flogger fall in a gentle rhythm on her flesh. She started to drift on the rhythm and float away. When her skin was lightly rosy, except for the scarlet redness of her bottom, he laid the flogger down. He took the scented oil from the table next to the bed, squeezed some into his hand to warm it, and began to work the oil into her skin, from her shoulders to her ankles. He felt her turn to jelly beneath his hands and smiled, following his hands with a trail of kisses. Thomas stood and let his pants slide to the floor, then drew her to him, and against his body, as his hands roamed the front of her body, caressing, pinching, and pleasuring. He sank back into an overstuffed chair, and drew her down and over his member, she moaned and her limbs spread for him, her arms seeking behind her head for his own. He reached between her legs, and stroked her labia and clitoris as he stroked into her from behind and beneath. Their rhythm was sensuous and beautiful and the groan started building in her chest as the growl tore from his lips, and they rolled together far away from this room, on wave after wave of pleasure.

When they were exhausted, they lay panting against each other. Thomas lifted Grace and moved to the bed, laid down, and she scrambled from his side to laying her head on his chest, needing that closeness, and that connection. They drifted in pleasure drenched sleep for a while. When she woke, she looked up and saw that he was watching her. She smiled shyly, and lowered her head to his chest again. He chuckled, then lifted her chin till their eyes met, "What say you, little one? I feel Micah has made a good match, and in my mind, I have claimed you. I will leave this last choice to you. Will you be mine?" She blushed deeply, and her eyes welled with tears. His brow furrowed, "If the answer is no, then I will accept that." She shook her head furiously, and spoke in a soft voice,"You want me?" He smiled and pressed his lips to her forehead, "In my mind and my heart you are already mine, I need only your word." She smiled, lowered her eyes, then raised them to his and in a sure voice, said, "Yes, I am yours."

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