What To Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection Part Two (28 page)

“So, what’s up with you today, Abby? You’re a million miles away.” We were in line, waiting to place our order. Leslie was making eyes at the counterman, like she always did. I usually teased her, claiming she only flirted to get extra sautéed mushrooms on her sandwich for free. But not today.

“I did something last night.” I wasn’t sure how to explain this. “I signed up on a dating site.”

Leslie rolled her eyes. “You’re kidding. Again? Which one this time?” We were at the counter. I placed my order, paid up, grabbed my soda and moved out of the line to grab a table. I heard Leslie rattle off her order and then she was right behind me, practically stepping on my heels so she could pry the gory details out of me.

“Okay. Spill the story. What have you done?” She took a sip of her San Pellegrino.

“Promise you won’t say anything until I’m finished, okay?” Leslie nodded.

I took a deep breath. “I registered on a BDSM website. I met a man on the site and we chatted most of the night.” Leslie was watching me, her mouth open, totally shocked.

“He’s asked to meet me in person.” I hesitated. “And I think I’m going to agree to meet him.”

Leslie was silent for a long time, staring at me. “You are nuts. A BDSM site? Since when do you like pain?” She sat back suddenly. “It’s those damn books, isn’t it?”

“It’s hard to explain, I guess. There something there that intrigues me. Not so much the pain, or not only the pain. But the whole control thing, giving up control to someone else in return for pleasure. It’s confusing, but it’s something that I want to try.”

Leslie shook her head. Our sandwiches arrived and we were quiet for a minute, trying to divide and conquer the behemoth sandwiches. We chewed in silence for a while when she finally spoke.

“You know I love you, Abby, but I’ve got to say, I think you’re making a big mistake.” She looked at me, her brown eyes serious. “But I know you, when you get something stuck in your mind, there’s no talking you out of it.”

I laughed. Leslie knew me better than I knew myself sometimes.

“So, now who is this mystery bondage guy? What’s he look like? Does he have a name?” Leslie finally gave in and attacked her sandwich with a fork, winding sticky globs of mozzarella cheese like spaghetti around the tines.

“Well, he’s over six feet, black hair, blue eyes….” Leslie grunted through a mouthful of sandwich. “…on the lean side. Not skinny, but wiry, maybe? Hard to tell in the picture, but not a really muscular guy. Nice looking. His name’s Jake.”

“Jake. Hmm, so you’re going to really do this?”

I nodded, wrapping up my sandwich in its paper. Suddenly I was nervous, my stomach fluttering. I took a deep breath.

“Yeah, I really am.”

When I got home, I immediately opened up my laptop, clicking on the website. There was a message from Jake waiting for me. I opened it gingerly, almost as if it were a ticking bomb. Somehow, safe in the darkness last night, lit only by the screen on my laptop, it had all seemed exciting and fun; in the harsh light of the fading afternoon Texas sun, it seemed silly and scary.
What the hell am I doing?

It reminded me I hadn’t given him an answer to his question: if I’d like to meet in person. I took a deep breath, clicking the message icon.

To: Miss Venus

From: Dom Meyers

Hi Abby,

I enjoyed talking to you last night; I hope you did as well. I don’t want to rush you into meeting in person; I’m willing to let you make that decision. But I think we really have a connection. So, the ball is in your court (although I’m rushing the net).

Jake

I put the cursor in the reply box, watching it blink. Closing my eyes, I typed ‘Yes, I’d like to meet you too.’ I looked at the words on the screen and then, before I could change my mind, I clicked send.

My first reaction was to close the laptop and leave the room, but that was foolish. It was also foolish to watch the laptop screen, waiting for a reply. It brought back uncomfortable high school memories of sitting by the phone on a Saturday night, waiting for it to ring.

I was just pushing myself away from the desk when the soft chime of an incoming message sounded. The little red envelope was flashing. I clicked on the icon and a message from Jake opened on the screen.

Hi Abby,

I’d put a smiley face emoticon here, but I’m technically challenged when it comes to things like that. So I’ll just say that I’m very happy you’ve agreed to meet me. How about Georgia’s? If you’re free tonight, how about a drink, say, 8:00? Just casual, nothing too intense.

Jake

I knew the place; it was upscale, nice…some place I’d driven by but never been inside of. And tonight.
Go…do it. Either you’ll enjoy yourself, or you’ll get it over with and be done with this.

Hi Jake,

Georgia’s sounds fine and so does 8:00. I’ll see you then.

Abby

The bedroom was a mess, clothes strewn everywhere. I’d taken a shower, tried to eat something, gave up on that and then tried to decide on something wear. ‘Something casual’ may be easy for him to say, but it sent me into a panic. I resisted the urge to call Leslie, simply because she would tell me I was crazy.

Finally I decided on a black silk tank and jacket and a pair of dark jeans. I added my favorite heeled boots, happy I could wear the four inch heels and not tower over Jake.

Hair was another issue. I brushed it out, put it up, curled it, brushed it out…and finally just let it curl around my shoulders. Jewelry was easier; black onyx bracelet and earrings, an assortment of silver chains and I called the outfit complete.

The only sure thing was the perfume; I splurge on a custom blend containing something called Dragon’s Blood. It’s exotic, indescribably floral and absolutely wonderful. I dabbed it behind my ears, at the base of my throat and my wrists…and for good measure, my cleavage. Just the scent alone makes me feel confident and beautiful. Hopefully it would have a positive effect on Jake.

As luck would have it, I was late to Georgia’s. Traffic was snarled and by the time I parked, I was fifteen minutes late and growing flustered. I pulled open the door, the sounds of the bar spilling out into the cool night air, and slipped inside. I scanned the bar, looking for a tall man in a white t-shirt, which Jake said he’d be wearing.

My heart sank. There was no one there in a white shirt.
Great. I make the commitment and I miss him by minutes.

I was turning to leave when I felt a firm hand on my elbow. Startled, I turned, looking up into the bluest eyes I’d ever seen.

“Hi, Abby.”

His voice was low, but clear, husky without being raspy. I don’t think I’d ever heard my name sound quite so beautiful. I started up at him.

“Sorry to startle you. I met someone I knew at the other end of the bar. It took me a minute to get away.” I continued to stare, unable to speak.

Speak, Abby. Drop the deer in the headlights act.
I shook myself out of my embarrassing trance.

“Hi, Jake. Sorry, but you did catch me a little off guard. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“No, not at all. Come on, there’s more room in the back; it’s not so crowded there. We can find a private banquette.”

Jake continued to gently hold my arm, steering me with easy grace through the crowd. The long mahogany bar was crowded with a loud mix of young business professionals, but as we made our way through the brick archway into the depths of the room, the crowd thinned out. Jake found a small banquette in the quiet back room. As I slid onto the black leather, Jake asked what I’d like to drink, disappeared towards the bar, and soon returned with a glass of Chardonnay for me and what looked like a glass of bourbon for himself.

“It’s domestic. I hope that’s okay with you?” He looked at me expectantly as he set the glass on the small table.

“I’m sure it will be fine.”
I’m way out of my league here.

I took a tentative sip. I’d been far too nervous to eat dinner and now was afraid any alcohol I drank would go straight to my head. But the wine was excellent and I took a larger swallow, the soft warmth of the wine spreading through my body, quelling the butterflies in my stomach.

Georgia’s is large but still manages to seem intimate. The brick covered walls, Oriental patterned carpet and soft lighting conspire to make it cozy, even though the place was packed. We sipped our drinks in silence for a few minutes, watching the crowd as it ebbed and flowed past us. I realized there was still more rooms beyond where we sat; peering past Jake I saw through another series of arches several pool tables, each glowing green beneath its own set of lights.

Once we started talking though, the nerves faded away. Jake put me at ease almost instantly, avoiding the usual litany of first encounter questions: where are you from, what do you do, read any good books lately? He told stories, good stories. I found myself laughing more than I thought I would. Jake had a good sense of humor, gently poking fun at himself as he told stories about growing up on a ranch in Texas.

“…and so I ended up flat on my face, being dragged through a pile of horse dung, with one foot caught in the stirrup. My horse was looking down at me and I swear, if he could have spoken, he would have called me a damned fool. I never tried that again.”

I laughed. “It’s amazing you survived your childhood.” I took another sip of my wine, stealing a glance at his face in the subdued lighting of the back room. His chiseled features, in this light, were beyond handsome. Part of me was a bit intimidated; I’d never been anywhere near anyone so good looking. His lips alone were enough to make my heart beat faster. They were sensuous, full and he had an almost, but not quite, pouty lower lip. I could fully imagine being kissed by him and loving every second of it.

Rising, I excused myself to the ladies room. I really needed a moment to catch my breath and remind myself why I was here.

Once there, I looked at my face in the mirror. I was flushed, high color in my cheeks.
Calm down, girl, you’ve only just me the man. And this is different. It’s not what you’re used to.

Jake was not remotely like any type of man I’d met in the past. And that was good. I wasn’t going to give my heart away again; that’s not what this was about. Leslie had read me the riot act about getting hurt…again…and I’d tried to tell her this was different. It wasn’t about a relationship, or at least not a traditional sense.

Underneath all the nerves and butterflies and flushed cheeks, I didn’t really want to be interested in Jake in a romantic way nor him in me. I don’t want hearts and flowers and long walks in the twilight, holding hands. I wanted to learn my limits, explore this deep and probably dark side of my sexuality. That Jake was drop dead gorgeous certainly didn’t hurt in any way. But I’d be damned if, when this ended, I’d cry myself to sleep over him.

And there was that yet-unspoken aspect of our relationship: the bondage or domination or whatever it was going to be. We’d skirted the edges of that topic but had yet to address it head on.

Jake was watching me as I walked back across the room to our table, and for a moment I was that same self-conscious girl I was with most men I’d met, feeling judged and found lacking. And I kicked myself for feeling that way.

But then I saw his eyes moving over my body with something closer to frank admiration, a seductive smile playing about one corner of his mouth, and not the derision I had expected. My heart did a little hand spring.

“I took the liberty of getting you another glass of Chardonnay and ordering us a plate of appetizers. I’m not sure about you, but to be honest, I was a little nervous about this meeting and I passed on eating dinner. But now I’m finding my appetite has returned, with a vengeance.”

I slid into the banquette, nodding my head. “Same here. I mean, with the nerves. And the appetite, I guess. Something to nibble on will be nice.”

The food arrived shortly and over the delicious spicy bits of food the topic turned to our relative employment. I explained where I worked and what I did and talked a bit about the clients I had. Then I asked him where he worked.