Their food arrived, and they didn’t revisit the topic until the waiter brought the check. Dahlia immediately reached for her wallet, but Hayden stopped her. “It’s on me tonight. Okay?”
He could see from her expression that she was gearing up to protest. Like many professional women, especially ones newly successful in their fields, she probably made it a point always to pay her way. Hayden had no problem with that—in a professional situation. But he wanted tonight to feel different—to be different—than any previous interaction between them.
He fixed her with a calm but steady gaze, bending her to his will.
“Okay,” she finally said in a soft voice, letting her hand drop. “Thank you.”
As he hoped, when they returned to her building lobby, Dahlia said, “Would you like to come upstairs for a bit? Maybe have something to drink before you head home?”
“Sure,” he said with a smile. “I’d like that very much.”
As they entered her apartment, Dahlia gestured for Hayden to hang his jacket on the coatrack beside the door, and she did the same. The place was small, the furnishings bland but new and clean, nondescript framed artwork on the walls. The only exception was an ancient recliner covered in rich, buttery leather, a butt-shaped dent in the seat from what must be years of sitting. A tottering pile of medical journals lay on the floor beside it, a laptop on top of them.
Noticing him glancing around, she said with a laugh, “It’s a furnished rental, decorated in the style of the Holiday Inn Express, or maybe an upscale Motel 8. It was the only thing I could find that was remotely affordable on the subway route to the hospital when I took the job back in October.”
“Except that,” he grinned, pointing a finger toward her recliner.
“Except that,” she agreed. “I got that recliner my first year of medical school at a thrift store, and I’ve lugged it wherever I go ever since.”
“Everyone needs at least one comfy place to crash,” Hayden agreed, liking her immensely.
“Wine,” she said briskly, as if recalling herself. “White or red? Chardonnay or cabernet? Those are the choices.”
“I think I’ll just have a glass of ice water,” Hayden said. He wanted to be alert for what he had planned. “But, please,” he added quickly, “you have a glass if you’d like.”
“One glass of ice water coming up,” she said with a smile. “Have a seat. I’ll bring it out. There’s not actually room in my kitchenette for more than one person.” She seemed more relaxed now, in her own space. That was good. He wanted her relaxed.
He sat on the couch, leaning back as he waited for Dahlia to return. He was excited about what he had planned. The first step was to get her to agree. It had been a long time since he’d worked with a total newbie.
With those new to the scene, it was sometimes a challenge to tease out genuine submissive emotions buried beneath a lifetime of denial. Yet, he sensed something in Dahlia, something that went beyond the merely curious. Though he knew he would be wise to keep his expectations in check, he couldn’t deny his excitement at the opportunity to bring her true nature to the fore.
Dahlia came back into the living room, water in one hand, a glass of white wine in the other. After handing him his glass, she sat beside him. She smelled good—something floral with a bit of spice.
He raised his glass to hers. “To new adventures,” he said as they clinked.
“To new adventures,” she echoed. “I like that.”
“Good,” he replied, admiring the long, smooth line of her throat as she sipped her wine. “It’ll be quite an adventure, I assure you.”
She looked at him expectantly, her eyes bright. “Does that mean you’re going to invite me to the party? I get to come?”
He suppressed a grin at the double entendre of her last sentence. “Actually,” he said slowly, “that’s going to depend on you.”
“On me?”
He nodded. “I’ve done a lot of thinking about this. It was irresponsible of me to dangle that invitation in front of you the way I did, especially knowing you have little to no experience in the scene.”
“But I did the research. I’ve read the novels. I want to go to the party in the worst way—”
He placed two fingers briefly lightly over her lips, silencing her.
“I think your enthusiasm is great. But hear me out before you decide. I have a proposal for you.”
She nodded. “Okay. Sorry. I’m listening.”
“As I intimated the other day at breakfast, if you attend this party, you’ll see things that will shock you. You’ll be witness to extreme bondage, whippings, canings, water play and explicit sexual acts. Many of the subs and service slaves will be naked or nearly so, men and women alike.”
Dahlia stared at him with wide eyes, her pretty mouth falling partly open. “You, uh—you mentioned at breakfast I wouldn’t have to actively participate, right?”