Unforgettable You (8 page)

She shoots me a smile that makes my chest tighten. “That sounds wonderful.”

Just then the waiter appears. When he asks, I look to Sheila. “The beautiful vision with me here will have a glass of pinot gris, and I’ll have a merlot.”

Boy, he was fast; we didn’t have time to get a word in before he was back with the glasses and poured both right at the table. “What would the two of you like for dinner?”

“The lady will have the chicken kabobs and a garden salad, no onions,” I say, and she nods, “and balsamic vinaigrette dressing. I’ll have the T-bone, medium, with your grilled broccoli and a baked sweet potato, as well as the same salad the lady is having. And could you bring both of us a glass of water with our dinners, please?”

“Of course, sir! Thank you and your food will be out shortly.” He stops, then looks back and forth at us. “May I ask, is this some sort of special occasion?”

Sheila and I both look at each other in surprise. I manage to stammer out, “Well, I guess you could say that. It’s our first date.”

He smiles warmly. “Well then, sir, the wine’s unlimited and on the house. I hope Treadway’s was the right choice for this momentous occasion!” With that, he spins and disappears.

Sheila was first to speak. “Wow. Just, um, wow.”

I shake my head and grin. “A momentous occasion.” As the words leave my lips, the hostess appears with a small bud vase and the long stem red rose I’d left at the front. Sheila smiles, then eyes me suspiciously.

“That brings me to a question.” She doesn’t sound mad or anything, but my heart almost stills. “Are you dating anyone else?”

I can’t help it – I take her hand across the table, turn it over, and trace little circles on her palm. She blushes and I know she’s thinking about the little patterns I traced up and down her body the night before. “No. I don’t date very much. Most of the women I know are somehow connected to my work, and I don’t do that. You know, date women I work with. At all. Ever. One of Cothran’s unbreakable policies.”

“So where do you meet women?”

I laugh. “Apparently we’re introduced by friends!”

Her face clouds over. “I’m being serious here, Steffen.”

“So am I. I’m not kidding. I don’t date the women I work with, and the only other place I ever seem to go is the club. And I’ve never been interested in dating a sub from there.”

Now she gives me a hard stare. “Oh, they’re good enough to have sex with, but not good enough to date?”

Most guys would think they’re about to go down in flames, but I’m honest with her. “No, nothing like that. It’s just that most of the women, not all, but most, want more than one guy, I mean, want to have sex with more than one guy. And I’m like Clint; I’m not that into sharing. So that’s not going to happen. Even if they say that’s not what they want, we’ve only got two subs at the club who haven’t had sex with more than one guy there.”

“Trish and who else?”

Uh-oh.
Gotta be honest, gotta be honest
, I hear playing in my head. “Well, actually, it’s a sub who calls herself Babycakes and one named Katherine.”

One eyebrow goes up. “Trish?”

“Nope.”

“Who?”

I shake my head. “Now you know I can’t tell you that.”

“Yeah? Well, how do you know?”

I let out a big sigh. How did I know this was going to come up? “Because one of them was me.”

For a second I think she’s going to fall out of her chair. The voice that comes out is almost a squeak, and it’s kinda loud. “You! Are you serious?”

“Shhhhh, shhhhhh, please! Yes, me. That was before she and Clint met. And everybody’s fine with it, so don’t make a big deal out of it. She was new, she needed some Doms who had some experience and could be trusted, and I was the first one who came across her radar. Dave gave me the nod – he trained her – so I scened with her.” I can tell she’s having a hard time with this. “Okay, so wait. Let me try to explain all of this.”

She leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. “Go right ahead. This should be good.”

Her snarl draws a chuckle out of me. “So we call it scening, and we call it that because we consider it more or less a theatrical performance.”

“Even the sex?” Now she’s leaning in toward me, elbows on the table, and I know I have her attention.

“Yes. Understand: A lot of clubs don’t allow actual sex acts in the performance areas, just simulated or none at all. But Dave believes sex is an integral part of the BDSM performance, so he’s always allowed it. Does that make sense?”

Something passes across her eyes and her face falls. “So everything you did with me was an act?”

Oh, god, this is going the wrong direction. “No, no, no! No, we just call pretty much everything scening because it’s just how we talk, but no, that wasn’t how I considered it at all. No, babe, that was as real as it gets. Didn’t it feel real to you?”

Sweeping her hair back from her face, she nods. “Yes, it absolutely did.”

“That’s because it was. Every word I said to you last night, every touch, every kiss, that was real for me.” This is it, and even though I know it’s pretty damn stupid on my part, it’s like I just can’t stop, like I’m compelled to do it. “Sheila, I don’t date. I don’t take on new subs. And I don’t tell women how I feel about them, but with you, I just can’t help myself.”

She shakes her head and grimaces. “Why does this sound like a really bad pickup line?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about pickup lines. I go to the club and women approach
me
. I mean, I’m not being arrogant, but they do, they approach me because they want me to play with them. See, the club levels the playing field between men and women.” She seems confused. “Hey, remember last night when I told you there was a secret I’d tell you later?”

“Yeah?”

“I guess now’s a good time. Remember when I said I was in control; someone had to be in control?” She nods. “Well, believe it or not, you’re the one in control. The sub has all the power.”

Her brow furrows. “How?”

“Because you can stop play at any time. You have safety measures in place. That’s why I told you to use the word red last night. You haven’t chosen a safeword yet, but you can, and I’ll have to abide by it. Last night, just a simple ‘no’ would’ve done the job. But if we keep going, you’ll need a safeword, and if you decide you don’t want to do something, or it’s too painful, or you’re tired, or whatever, and I do mean whatever, you can just call a halt to play. It’s that simple.” I see a light bulb go on in her head. “You hold the power in your hands. Me? I’m along for the ride. My job is to see that you’re satisfied, and if I do my job well, my satisfaction is a by-product of your satisfaction.”

“I have all the power?”

“Yes, ma’am. You sure do.”

“Huh.” I can see she’s mulling it over.

“Yup. If a sub reports that she safeworded and the Dom or top didn’t honor it, Dave does his own little version of an investigation and, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, the guy’s out. That’s it.”

“Wow. I had no idea.”

“Well, now you do.” I take her hand again. “Look, I just want you to know that, regardless if you felt it or not, I feel some kind of connection to you. And I really want to explore it. I’m hoping it’s not one-sided.”

She gives me a tiny, shy smile. “It’s not.”

“Good. Then let’s drink this free, unlimited wine and eat our dinner and have a good time.” Our salads appear about that time, and we chat over them. “So, your family?”

“They’re in Iowa.”

That’s kind of a surprise. “Iowa! Well, that’s not exactly nearby.”

“There were no jobs, so I left.”

In that moment, I realize I have no idea what she does. “Where do you work?”

“I’m in research at the university hospital.”

Oh my god. A smart woman. She’d never guess how thankful I am. “What kind of research?”

“Parkinson’s, believe it or not, and some Alzheimer’s. We’ve got a study going on right now, and I’m spending a lot of time on that.” She takes another sip of wine and a bite of salad.

“That’s fascinating. So you have a biology degree?”

“Doctorate in biological sciences.” Holy shit – a doctor. I’m duly impressed. “I mean, it’s not like being in practice somewhere, god knows I don’t make
that
kind of money, but I feel like I’m contributing, making a difference, you know?”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

The salad’s good, super good, and the dressing has to be made there because it’s too fresh and flavorful to have come from a bottle. While I’m chewing, she asks, “So Trish tells me you’re in banking.”

I nod, then manage to swallow the rest of the salad in my mouth. “Yes. I’m the regional manager for United Independent Bank, a name which I consider an oxymoron, but no one listens to a word I say.” That gets a laugh out of her. “So I’ve got eight banks under me, about a hundred employees. When everything’s running as it should, it’s an easy job. When something goes wrong, it’s a nightmare.”

“Like?” she asks from inside her wine glass.

“Like last week when a teller put the proceeds of a home loan in the wrong account. We’re still trying to figure out how she managed that. The numbers and names weren’t even similar. Anyway, by the time we found it, the person who owned the account had spent about twenty-seven thousand dollars that wasn’t his to spend.”

Her eyebrows pop up. “Oh my god! How do you fix that?”

“Well, first, we have to cover it since it was our mistake. Second, we had to call the man who spent the money and talk to him. And when he basically told me to go screw myself because it was our mistake, I had to call the police.”

“Oh no!”

“Oh yeah. It’s a mess. I’ve spent almost two weeks now trying to fix this.”

“And the teller?”

“If you’re asking if she was fired, the answer is no. Everyone makes mistakes. She’s been with us four years and we’d never had a problem with her. I sat down with her and found out they just diagnosed her little boy with leukemia, but she hadn’t told a soul at work. We found her a job that’s less stressful and she’s staying with us. It should’ve been a pay cut, but I refused to cut her pay. Hell, if anything, she needs the money more now than she did before. I told them it was a temporary move so they should just leave her salary where it is.”

Her eyes are steady. “And they listened?”

“Yes. I told them I had my reasons. The president of the bank called me, and I told him the same thing. He asked what was going on with her, and when I told him, he agreed with me. I would’ve been justified in firing her outright, but I didn’t want to do that.”

She looks like she’s going to cry, and I’m shocked. This woman is far more tender-hearted than I imagined, and I find that incredibly sexy. Emotionless bitches do nothing for me and, trust me, I’ve had my share of experience with those. “That was absolutely, positively the right thing to do. You’re very kind. A lot of bosses wouldn’t have cared.”

“Well, I’m not a lot of bosses. But I can tell you this: When I go to bed at night, I sleep well. I don’t have a lot of regret. I try to treat my employees the way I’d want to be treated, and it’s paid off. I have the lowest employee turnover in the whole of United Independent. I have a reputation for being a good person to work for, and I’m proud of that.”

She nods. “And you should be. I bet your parents are proud.”

“My mom is. My dad died about five years ago.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“Yeah, sudden heart attack. So I watch what I eat very, very carefully and I make sure to get plenty of exercise in.”

Apparently the kabobs are good because she’s just about devoured them. “Siblings?”

“Yeah, a sister who lives in Missouri, Cecilia. She’s a teacher and her husband’s a journalist.”

“Older?”

“No, younger. Your siblings?”

“Three. Two older brothers and a younger sister. Robert’s an attorney, Kenny’s a surgeon, and my little sister, Maggie, is a dentist.”

I shake my head. “A whole family of over-achievers!”

She laughs again – god, that’s a beautiful sound. “Yeah! I guess we are.” There’s a pause, and she says, “Steffen, I’m having a really good time.”

“Good, because I am too.” My steak is beyond excellent. I can’t remember red meat ever tasting this good before.

Once I’ve paid the server and we’re outside, I turn toward the pier. “Want to walk?”

“Sure!” We head down and walk around hand in hand, watch the sun set, and get an ice cream cone apiece. On our walk back from the pier, I slip my arm around her waist and pull her close to me, and she does the same to me. We chatter all the way back to her house and when I pull in, she sits in the car for a minute without getting out.

“You okay?”

She nods. “Yeah. I’m fine.” When she turns to me, I see all the emotion on her face and it blows me away. “Steffen, do you want to stay? Because I’d love it if you did.”

This is yet another opportunity for me to drive home the point that I see her as more than just a fuck. “Actually, I’d love to, but I don’t do that. I’d want you to come to my house.”

Those lines appear on her forehead again. “Why?”

I just smile. “Because I’ve heard women complain that they woke up and the guy they’d slept with the night before was gone. If you were to come to my house, I’d have nowhere to go. You wouldn’t have to worry about that.”

I can see her thinking that over, working it out, and trying to come to some kind of decision. “Huh.”

Whoa! I think she’s waiting for me to invite her to my house! I’ve never had this happen before, and I think it’s hysterical in a way. She’s polite, I’ll give her that. I let her stew for about a half a minute before I ask, “So, would you like to come to my house?”

She folds her arms across her chest and glares at me. “Why are you teasing and tormenting me?”

I shoot her an evil grin. “Because it’s so much fun.” Then I drop my head and look up at her from under my brows. “So? Coming or not?”

She giggles. “Do you really want me to?”

That’s it. I lean over to her, draw her face to mine, and kiss her. There’s no doubt what she’s thinking when I feel her lips touch mine. She wants me as much as I want her. “I think the question is, do you want to drive or shall I bring you home tomorrow?”