The Meeting by Darius

The sunlight poured in through the window of the restaurant, lighting his face.  His hair was reddish-blond, his eyes a bright blue.  She watched as she sat across from him in the booth, studying his reactions, watching his nervous movements.  He scratched his fingers back and forth across the tabletop, his eyes darting to and fro.

The waitress came up from behind him, startling him as she placed two cups of coffee down on the table.  He chuckled an apology, and she grinned, watching calmly from behind dark sunglasses.

He tore open two sugar packets and fixed the coffee to his liking.  He took a sip, then put it back down on the saucer with a clatter.  “So, how was your trip?” he asked.

“From my house?  The fifteen minute drive was uneventful.”

He reddened slightly.  “Right.  You live here.  Sorry, I'm a little nervous.”

She smiled again, and her voice was calm and soothing.  “It's okay, love.  I expected that you would be.”

He nodded.  “We've known each other for a year, though.  I thought I'd be a lot more relaxed.”

“It's not the same, is it?” she asked.

“What's that?”

“It's much easier behind a computer screen.  You have time to think, to weigh what you say.  I can't see your reactions.  Here...” she paused, then inhaled deeply through her nose.  “...here, I get your reactions, unfiltered by what you want me to know.  I see you.  I hear you. I smell you.” She leaned forward and purred, “...hell, I can practically taste you already.”

She saw him shiver a moment, and his eyes moved, searching for something.  He nodded absently, and she saw him looking around the restaurant, trying to key on anything else to break the tension.  She took his hand in hers, and he started.  “Look at me,” she said.

He did, and she lowered her dark glasses, her green eyes boring into his blue ones.  “Did you really drive all this way to try to find a way to avoid revealing yourself to me?  Why must you change the subject?”

He licked his lips, and got a puzzled look.  “What subject?”

“The reason you're here.  Why are you here?”

He gathered his thoughts and bought time by taking a long drink of his coffee.  He swallowed, and his face took a wry look.  He quipped, “Well, I guess I was kinda hoping you would fuck me.”

She raised her eyebrows and said nothing, squeezing his hand.  After a moment, he apologized.  “I'm sorry.  That was crude.  You know I use humor as a defense mechanism.”

“Oh, no,” she said mirthfully.  “It's okay.  I'm going to fuck you.  You can be sure of that.”

His mouth dropped open a little.

“But...” she continued, “...you could have have something like that without coming all this way.  Why are you here?”

He looked down then.  “Because you're...my Mistress.”

“Look at me.”

He looked up at her.

“Say it again,” she whispered.

He struggled to keep eye contact, and she felt a stirring in her, a desire to pull him across the table and take him right there.  Her loins clenched.  “Say it!” she commanded, a little louder.

He jumped and said “Mistress”...a bit louder than he had intended.

The waitress, who had appeared again from behind him to refill his coffee, smiled a little at the exchange.  She topped off his cup and stole a glance at them both.  “More coffee, Miss?”

She looked up and smiled pleasantly.  “No, thank you, just the check, please.”

He was blushing crimson now, knowing that the waitress had heard, as well as one or two others in the restaurant, more than likely.  “Well, that went well,” he murmured.

“It will get easier as you say it more” she said.  “But I think you needed to say it.”

“Probably.  Should you call me 'Mine' now?”

She ignored the question, slipped a shoe off, stretched the foot under the table lazily, and placed the toe against his groin.  She clenched her teeth behind closed lips as she felt the hardness there, restraining herself again.   I should take you right fucking here on the table, she thought.

He moaned quietly.  She closed her eyes and removed her foot from his crotch.

“Well, your body certainly seems ready for me,” she cooed.  “How's the rest of you?”

“Still nervous,” he said, apologetically.

“Mmmm.  Believe it or not, that's making me excited.  What do you think, Love?  Should I take you?”

He swallowed hard, his dry throat making a clicking noise.  He tried to speak, but nothing came out.  He nodded.

“I think I should too,” she whispered.  She leaned across the table.  “Come here.”

He leaned across, as if to kiss her.  She stopped him by putting a finger against his nose, then extended her long, pink tongue and dragged it up across his lips.
He shook visibly, and whispered “Oh, God...”

“You have to ask me,” she said.  “I want to hear the desire in your voice.”

“Please” he moaned

“Please what?”

“Please...please take me back to your room, Mistress.  I need you to take me.”  The floodgates opened, and she felt his pent-up desire start to flow out.  “Please, Mistress...I need you to...”

She moved the finger from his nose to his mouth, silencing him.  The waitress returned with the check, and she stood.

“I know,” she said.

She retrieved money from a small purse, and left it on the table.  She took his hand and he stood next to her, visibly shaken.  She led him out the door into the bright sunlight.

They walked across the parking lot that way, her walking briskly, almost pulling him along behind her.

As they came to her room, she released his hand and retrieved the key from her purse.

She opened the door, and watched him.  She knew he could see the bed, with the toys and cuffs laid out meticulously.  His breath hitched for a moment, and he neither spoke nor moved.

She pressed against him.  “Once you enter, I'm not going to let you leave for awhile.”

He nodded.  “You still haven't called me 'Mine'.”

“I know.”  She waited.  Slowly, as though he were dreaming, he walked inside.  She followed, closing the door behind them.  He walked to the bed, examining the toys.

She took off her skirt and blouse while his back was turned to her.  She hadn't worn a bra. She left her panties on.  They were soaked.  She'd restrained herself so far.  She wouldn't be able to much longer.

He started to turn back to her as he spoke.  “God, I don't even know what half of these things d....” He froze as he saw her mostly naked body.  She walked to him, took his hand in hers and kissed it gently.  She looked up into his eyes.

“You're going to say it first” she said.

He breathed deeply, and started to say something, then stopped.  Slowly, he dropped lower, and found his knees.  He looked up at her, his eyes wide, but unafraid.

She smiled down at him, and slowly lifted one leg, hooking it over his shoulder.  His pupils dilated, and he moaned quietly.  “Ohhh,” she cooed.  “There you are.”

He nodded and licked his lips as she reached down and curled her fingers into his hair near the nape of his neck, pulling roughly.  “Say it,” she commanded quietly.

“Yours,” he whispered.

She gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, and reveled in it.  “Yessss.  MINE,” she growled.  She slowly pushed him back to the floor, pushing his face into her sex, enveloping him in her warmth and scent.