The folder itself was a contract with a good deal of explanation built into it. Sloan Tanner was asking to spend a month of my time with him on his ranch outside of Karim in a relationship of sorts. He wanted me to think about it for a week before I made a decision. If I said yes, the terms of the contract would be for a month’s time during which I would agree to be his submissive. I could view it as an internship, a job, or a vacation when I told people where I would be spending my time for the next month. Even my job was secure in my absence. I guess when you have the largest account at the bank where you work you can ask for just about anything you want.
I thought it was outrageous.
Sloan was asking to be my dominant partner during that time. In turn I could ask for almost anything I wanted within reason. He could pay off debts, buy me a car, or any number of things we could negotiate, but during the month I was his to engage in a consensual sexual relationship.
One where he obviously made all the rules.
In everything.
My body shuddered thinking about what that meant. He would clothe me, feed me, and pleasure me to his heart’s content. I couldn’t wait to see what the month held for me in the service of the rancher.
My cellphone chirped, letting me know what time it was and that Sloan would be here any moment to take me to his ranch. Before I could spare a second thought, a knock at my door sounded. Thick raps against the wood, and I peeked out my window to see his truck parked on the street.
A heavy breath and I opened the door, taking in his dark jeans, dress shirt, and large, silver belt buckle. He removed his black Stetson hat again. I learned what it was called after my last meeting with him.
“Hi, come on in.” I stepped back from the door to let him in, and he stepped inside dwarfing the space of my apartment.
“I have something for you.” He handed me a box that looked to be from a boutique clothing store in Dallas from the label on it.
“What is it?” I couldn’t help the suspicion that bubbled under the surface of my imagination.
“Something, I’d like for you to wear. Go try it on, darlin’.” He made himself comfortable on my small sofa, and I felt like I was in a dressing room, and he was waiting on me to model.
“It’s not like leather and chains or anything?”
He laughed. “I don’t know where you get these ridiculous ideas from. Go put it on before I’m tempted to spank you.” He winked and I took the box to my bedroom.
In the privacy of my room, I tore it open and lifted up the most delicate white eyelet dress inside with small straps that crossed in the back. A pale peach colored bra and panty set made of the most whisper thin lace lay underneath it. It was a sweet gift and completely unexpected.
“You find it, darlin’?” he called from the living room.
“Yeah.” I shook my head. He was bound to think I was a manner-less brat.
I tried responding again more respectfully, kicking myself. “I mean yes. Thank you.”
“Well, come out on.”
Fortifying myself, I stripped off the dress and underwear I had on and put on the new. I felt like a princess wearing the soft cotton and lace. For all his gruffness, he was almost princely underneath the dust and drawling words.
I walked out into the living room barefoot, hair in a loose bun on my head. The look on his face warmed me from the inside out. I let my arms outstretch and turned in a slow circle.
“Wow,” he said, standing and coming to me to rest his hands on my waist, drawing me into his embrace.
“It’s so beautiful, thank you.” I was shocked and pleasantly surprised.
“Definitely not leather and chains then?” he said, a smirk in his blue eyes that looked like the sky up close.
I smiled, slightly embarrassed brushing the skirt down. “Ah, no, but it’s perfect.”
“Not yet it isn’t.” He stepped back and pulled a pair of flat, gold sandals from his back pocket I hadn’t seen before.
He leaned down before me going on one knee and helped me slip them onto my feet before tying them in matching bows around my ankles. When he finished, he slowly got up, our eyes locking in on each other. His hands trailed up my ankles to the back of my calves that broke out in g
oose bumps.
“It isn’t?” I asked, and he shook his head no, eyes never leaving mine. I swallowed the dryness of my throat, wishing for a glass of cold water. I wondered if I was sweating, because I felt hot under his gaze.
He moved up the pads of his fingers which now grazed my outer thighs before he settled them under my dress on my lace covered cheeks pulling me into direct contact with the thick ridge in his jeans. His eyes smiled and his lips whispered, “Now it’s perfect.”