Good Girl (7 page)

“That makes sense, I suppose.” She
sneaked a look at him. “So why do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Dominate women,” she awkwardly echoed
his earlier phrase.

Hunter laughed. “We’re here. So that
question will have to wait for dinner.”

She liked the easy, confident way he
spoke to the host and the wait staff at the Afghan restaurant. He had
reservations for a table in the garden. Their low table was partly veiled by
potted trees and vines climbing on the trellis. Over the top of the fence they
could see the Williamsburg Bridge, with the curve of the suspension cable lit
up by lights. Tiny Christmas tree lights were threaded through the trees, and
their table was lit by several candles.

He had arranged for them to be seated in
the secluded spot. It was a very romantic gesture, one she wished more of her
dates would do. There was no romance left in the world, so to find it in Hunter
was the last thing she had expected.

“Do you drink wine?” he asked, and when
she agreed, he ordered a lovely red wine. “Now, what kind of meat do you like?”

With that, he proceeded to grill her on
her dining preferences. Garlic, onions, green vegetables, nuts, fruits, sweets…
she felt like he was taking mental notes the whole time. His interest was a
little overwhelming.

“Now you know as much about what I like
to eat as my own mom,” Kali finally said.

“Then you won’t mind if I order for us?”
Hunter gave her a smile and ordered several dishes when the waiter returned.
“It’s part of the culture that the dishes are communal. We can share.”

The first dish arrived, with what looked
like a pile of rice and a large flatbread. Hunter ripped off a small piece of
the bread and filled it with the rice and meat mixture. “This is
pulao
.
They mix rice with lots of different ingredients. This is lamb meat.” He folded
the bread over the
pulao
and took a bite.

Kali copied his example. She liked the
taste. “Good. Different, but good.”

“It’s one thing I like about living in
the city. You can try every food there is in the world if you stick at it long
enough.”

It was dangerously seductive to Kali.
She imagined more dinners like this as she and Hunter explored the world
through the food in the city. She liked listening to his voice and watching his
hands as he delicately picked up each bite of food in his fingers. Maybe it was
because they weren’t using their utensils, but it made the meal seem more
intimate.

She was sliding down the path again,
wondering if he could be a real romantic possibility. She liked so much about
him. But there was an elephant in the courtyard, and she rushed into it to
bring herself back to reality.

“So why do you like to… you know.”

“Dominate beautiful women?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I like to be in control. I had to learn
early on to take care of things, so that’s what I do. That’s why I create
things out of nothing, from just an idea and a feeling. Not only in my art, but
in my life. I’m working with you tonight to create this experience, and who
knows where it might lead? But if I play off you, your responses, then we can
dance together in a new way for both of us.”

That sounded promising. “So… is there
anything in particular you like to do?”

“Other than hair-pulling?” He said it
suggestively, like he was remembering the way he had kissed her neck in his
studio. “I mostly take inspiration from the moment. But lots of people do have
their thing. You could call it a fetish. Some men like breasts, while I love a
fine butt. You, my dear, have a very fine butt.”

Kali loved it. He made it easy to sit
there and be complimented, like she was made to be admired and he wanted
nothing more than to admire her. But at the back of her mind was doubt. A guy
this good with words had to be dangerous. He was going to suck her in and make
her fall in love with him while he dashed off to the next unique flower he came
across.

“I like to play sex games,” Hunter
explained. “We decide what we’re going to do, and either one of us can stop
what’s happening at any time.”

“But isn’t it about pain? S&M?”

“Did it hurt when I pulled your hair?”

She considered it. “Yeah, sort of, but
it felt good.”

“It’s about stimulation, intense
sensations, but it has to be done in a way that feels good. Nobody likes to
stub their toe. But I bet I could give you the same amount of sensation in a
way that would make you orgasm. It’s all about building it up slowly, mixing
erotic cues with stronger feelings.”

She blinked back at him, considering
that.

“Even more,” he added, “BDSM is about
power exchange. You give up control to me, and I take us on a journey
together.”

“How?”

“I’ll show you.” Just then their waiter
arrived with two more dishes. Hunter waited until he was gone, to ask, “Will
you do what I say for the rest of the meal? I won’t do anything overtly sexual
here in public or ask you to. And you can stop the game any time you want.”

“Here? Now?”

“Why not? You’re curious.”

Kali remembered what Pam had said about
the dangers of going home with someone and letting them tie you up. If she was
going to try it, why not here with all the restrictions that would place on
them?

“Okay. What do I have to do?”

Hunter laughed, but there was a wicked
edge to it. “Just eat. Here—“ He filled a small bite of bread with some
blackened meat and sauce from one of the new dishes and held it out to her,
right in front of her face.

Kali took the bite from his hand. “Mmm!
I like that one. What is it?”

“Beef and dumplings in a curry sauce.”

She swallowed and took a drink of water,
and by the time she was ready for another bite of the delicious dish, Hunter
was holding up a small prepared bite of dumpling and sauce in his fingers.

This time she realized what he was
doing. He was feeding her. The first bite had felt easy, she hadn’t even
thought about it. But now for some reason it made her feel funny. Grown women
didn’t let themselves get fed like a baby!

He lifted the bite higher, his eyes
intently on hers.

Her eyes shifted quickly. Were people
watching? There must be people watching. But the palm fronds of the plants were
between them and the other diners. She could see them, but not very well. Maybe
they could see her, but not very well.

Such a simple thing. But nervous
excitement raced through her entire body. She felt alive. How could something
so simple shake her like this?

Maybe it was because of Hunter, all
gorgeous and staring into her eyes in that sexy, intimate way he had.

Slowly she leaned forward and took the
bite of food from his fingers. As she was chewing, still watching him, he
murmured, “Good girl.”

She raised her hand to hide the food in
her mouth. “You can’t say that to me!”

“Why not?”

“It’s demeaning. Belittling.”

“I think you like it. It makes you all
flustered and flushed, and I like you that way.” He leaned forward. “But you’re
really such a
bad
girl. My bad girl…”

She felt oddly stroked and loved by the
tenderness in his voice, yet she shouldn’t like it. But he might be right. It
was certainly stirring up her insides like nobody’s business. It was all too
confusing to sort out right now, so she just went with it. If she couldn’t
handle eating a meal in a restaurant under his control, then she certainly
couldn’t go any further with him. And she really wanted to see if they could go
further.

So she went with it, sipping her water
and wiping her mouth with her napkin, trying the dishes he suggested or eating
from his fingers when he offered her a bite. At one point he held out his
finger that was smeared with the curry sauce she loved. “Lick it,” he ordered
quietly.

So she did, looking up at him as her
lips closed over his fingertip.

He didn’t have to say it that time. The
words were in his eyes, amused and proud of her for not fighting him.
Good
girl.
He was always ready with a bite when she was, or urging her to try a
dish on her own, so it flowed along very nicely.

Dessert arrived, a big square of
honey-dripping baklava. Hunter cut off a huge piece with a fork and held it out
to her.

“That’s too much,” she protested.

“I think it’s just enough.”

She examined the large chunk on his
upheld fork. She did love honey, which she had told him during his earlier
cross-examination of her food likes and dislikes. It looked delicious, and she
really wanted some.

“All or nothing,” Hunter told
her.          

“Fine!” She opened up wide but could
hardly get the baklava into her mouth. When she bit down, honey drooled from
both corners of her mouth.

He laughed at her as she worked on the
baklava to get it to a manageable size. Even before she was finished, she had
to laugh along with him. “You
are
sadistic,” she told him.

“Oh, you have no idea.” But he was
laughing, too, so she couldn’t take it seriously.

“My face is sticky now,” she said.

“Here.” He picked up the moist towelette
and ripped open the foil package. “Lean closer.”

She put her face up to him and he carefully
washed the honey from her lips. His other hand gently held her chin. Again she
had the feeling of being a kid, of being taken care of by her parents. Of
feeling safe and secure.

“There, all clean.”

She smiled. “Now my lipstick is gone.”

“Give it to me.” Again, just the hint of
an order wrapped in sugar.

She went into her purse and handed over
her Bert’s Bees lip balm, tinted just darker than her lips. He read the label,
then sniffed it. “Do I smell peppermint?”

“I think so. There’s something in it
that makes my lips tingle.”

“We’re going to get along just fine.”
Hunter motioned her forward again. He carefully smoothed the shimmer over her
lips. She rubbed them around make sure it was spread.

“How does it look?” she asked.

“Perfect.” His face was close to hers,
and she realized he was going to kiss her.

“I want to see if that’s really
peppermint,” he murmured as he leaned in and kissed her. His lips were hot
against hers, urgent, striking a fire that ran through her body.

She forgot to breathe, lost in his mouth
as he kissed her on and on. Then his fingers tightened in her hair, a reminder
of last time, driving her higher.

Instantly she was ready for him. Maybe
it was the long, slow build-up as he had fed her and took care of her through
the meal. But when he claimed her mouth as his own, she felt it in every fiber
of her body. It was pure passion sparked by a single kiss.

Finally Hunter drew back, his fingers
still tangled in her hair. “I can’t tell if it’s peppermint, but something’s
making my lips tingle.”

His lips were shimmering now, too. It
looked great on him. She could imagine him wearing guy-liner and rocking it out
in the kind of clubs he probably went to. It was strange and wonderful at the
same time.

“And now I have to replenish you.” He
stroked the tiny wand across her lips then handed it back to her. “There,
you’re perfect again.”

Kali almost felt let down as he paid the
waiter and they finally walked out of the restaurant. Out on the street, he
suggested they walk around the neighborhood some more.

“How did you like your first scene?” he
asked.

“What’s not to like? It’s different, but
fun. I see what you mean by calling it a game.”

Kali tried to focus as they talked about
music and what they liked to read. They had completely different tastes. Hunter
went to bars where the music was so loud you couldn’t talk to anyone, while she
preferred vintage pop—Backstreet Boys and R.E.M were her style. He read the
Voice and the Free Press while she got the NY Times every Sunday and read every
section in a long, leisurely ritual.

He also had a terribly casual view about
his income, and was vague about the various odd jobs semi-related to the art
field that he did to supplement his creative work. He said flat out that he
didn’t use credit cards. She had a feeling he had cash stashed under his
mattress, if he had anything at all saved for a rainy day.

She was shocked when he told her he’d
been living in the same loft for nearly three years, and it wasn’t even legal
to live there. She couldn’t imagine lying in bed at night knowing the fire
department could kick everyone out at any moment.

Even worse, she kept thinking about
their first kiss. As sexy and packing a punch as it did, it hadn’t been
romantic. A first kiss should be romantic, shouldn’t it? Not the punctuation at
the end of a kinky sex game. That wasn’t the kind of first kiss you had with
your husband. That was the kind of kiss you had with a one night stand. And she
had never had a one night stand.