Alexandra
Isurveytheblack dress laying on my bed, which appears demure from the front, thanks to its high neck and mid-calf cut, but the unusual backless panel, with a horizontal strap running across the top definitely adds the much-needed sex appeal. We aren't going on a date in the traditional sense, but there's nothing stopping me from looking sexy and desirable. Opening the drawer, I scan through my neatly folded and color coordinated panties and bras. I'm a self-professed neat freak who color codes all her clothes and organizes them in seasons. Marie Kondo would be so proud of me. I have this weird rule about always wearing a matching bra and panties in case I die in an accident and they have to strip my clothes to do an autopsy. I mean, who cares if your bra and panties match when you are dead, right? Obviously, I do.Letting out a chuckle, I bring my attention back to the sexy panties section of my drawer. Where are my new lace panties? I haven't worn them since our girl's night out, and there's no way I'd have mixed them with my everyday cotton ones. Dear God, am I losing my mind like Grandma Harriet? Don't be silly, she was eighty when she got dementia. I peekat the clock on my desk. Fucking hell, Sebastian will be here in less than twenty minutes. I don't have the time to search for them now. I blow out an exasperated breath, opting for plain cotton ones. It's not like I'll be stripping naked tonight.
I expected Sebastian to take me to a restaurant, not his place, yet here I'm riding in his private elevator. The silence stretches between us as the metal death trap speeds up. Giving him a sneaky side glance, I zero in on his muscles rippling under his tailored shirt. I fight an overwhelming need to press the emergency button and tear the damn shirt right off. The combination of his pheromones and the spicy scent of his cologne amplifies my desire. You need to chill out, Allie, I scold myself.Sebastian turns his head in my direction with a smirk plastered across his lips. Is he a mind reader like Professor X? His gray eyes travel over my flushed face, then move down my body slowly. Put on a poker face, I encourage myself. If I squeeze my facial muscles any harder, I risk permanent injury.
"Is something wrong?" His voice, deep and sensuous, makes me weak in the knees. Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I give him a small smile. There is no way I'll admit he makes me feel like a horny teenager.
"I hate elevators," I murmur. He grins at me in a disarming sort of way, subtly telling me he doesn't believe me. I consider scowling at him, but the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open directly into an enormous penthouse.
Sebastian places his hand on my bare back, the heat of his palm sending a delicious shudder through my body. As he leads me into the massive open plan living area, my gaze darts to the floor-to-ceiling windows, boasting a magnificent skyline and glittering city views. My breath catches in my throat as I stare at the sun drifting below the horizon, setting the sky ablaze. When we arrive in his immaculate, ultramodern kitchen, Sebastian taps on the electronic panel and chill out lounge music comes through the speakers. With a tip of his head, he motions me to sit on the comfortable-looking counter stool. I incline my head in compliance.
"Make yourself at home while I start dinner. I hope you like Thai food."
"Mm-hmm, Asian cuisine is my favorite. May I help, Sir?"
"Sure, why not?" His smile widens in approval.
Rising to my feet, I watch him as he moves fluidly around the kitchen, retrieving the ingredients from the stainless-steel fridge and placing them on the quartz waterfall countertop. While he sets down two wooden chopping boards, I straighten my dress with long, nervous strokes. Sebastian leans closer to me and stares at me intently. The air around us hums with electricity, making my heart double in speed.
"Alexandra, tell me about yourself." he demands. My stomach contracts into a tight ball. This is my worst nightmare. I don't enjoy talking about myself, or being the center of attention. Death is more preferable.
"There isn't much to tell. I'm twenty-five, born and raised in San Diego. I'm an oncology nurse, but currently training to become a somatic psychotherapist. My parents still live in San Diego, and my older brother George lives in Florida." I pause for a moment, wondering if I should disclose why I've moved to Seattle. Honesty is the best policy, after all. Clearing my throat, I continue, "I moved to Seattle after a nasty breakup. Luckily, I had a place to stay and didn't have any problems finding a job. How about you?" The lines of concentration deepen along his brow and under his eyes.
"I'm thirty, born and raised in Seattle. I'm an artificial intelligence research scientist. After my parents died, I grew up in foster care. Shortly after they died, I also lost my younger sister to the system. She was adopted, while I was left in foster care, but I haven't given up on finding her." His expression stills and grows serious, tugging at my heart. I can only imagine how awful it must have been for him growing up in the foster care system, being shifted from one family to another.
"I'm so sorry, Sebastian. It must be very hard for you." Crap, I said his name, didn't I? "I'm so sorry for your loss, Sir." I pinch my lips into a tight line. His steel-gray eyes lighten up at my quick correction.
"I'm okay, pet. It was a long time ago." I rub my hands on my thighs while relief floods through me. Next time, he might not be so forgiving.
Thank God, the initial nervousness wears off and we fall into a rhythm with one another. Him leading and me following. The conversation flows easily. We make each other laugh and take turns answering each other's questions. Weirdly, it's as if we've known each other for a long time. We whizz through the kitchen, making the Thai green curry in no time, and while I set the table, Sebastian grabs glasses and a bottle of wine from the cooler. Unlike other men, he listens attentively when I talk, making me feel as if I'm the center of his universe. I wonder if the reason for never meeting anyone like him before might be because he's a member of an endangered species.When we finish eating, I help him clean up, and we move the party to the living room. Sinking onto the oversized velvet sectional, my gaze catches the manilla envelope resting on the coffee table. The soft whump of the fireplace turning on steals my attention away from the mysterious envelope. Sebastian walks over, picks up the envelope and drops onto the couch opposite me. The air shifts between us, like I'm about to be interviewed for a job. Drawing a shallow breath, I smooth down the hem of my skirt and cross my ankles, angling my feet to the left. He takes his sweet time in opening the envelope and retrieving the paperwork.
"I had a look through your membership application form and just want to go over a few things." He must have picked up on my nerves, so he gives me a reassuring smile and continues, "Alexandra, I'm aware you've never done this and I imagine it might be nerve-wracking, so how about you go first? Ask me anything you want to know."
Smiling back, I answer, "Thank you, Sir."
Sebastian rests his arm on the cushion, maintaining eye contact with me while patiently answering my questions. I discover that a college ex-girlfriend introduced him to BDSM, and he hasn't looked back since. Over the years, he's attended workshops, impact play demonstrations and private lessons with established, well-known Doms. Most of his relationships have ended after the dynamic stopped working for both parties. He enjoys impact play, role play, rope bondage, discipline and dominance, and prefers one to one 24/7 dynamic, but he's open to negotiations if that dynamic doesn't suit me. In previous relationships, he had control over his partner's body, daily activities, diet and general health. If rules were broken, he designed an appropriate punishment. He reassures me during the training period, he wouldn't demand my full submission and I'm free to walk away at any point if it doesn't work for me.When the conversation comes to a natural end Sebastian excuses himself and strolls towards the kitchen. He comes back with a tray laden with bite sized chocolate cakes and a large bottle of water. Placing the tray on the circular wooden coffee table, he pours water and settles back on the couch.
"In the form, it says you are currently single, on an estrogen pill and you had an all clear on your last STD test, which was a year ago. Are you willing to get tested again?" Tilting his head, he focuses his intense gaze on me.
Relief floods through me when he doesn't ask me why I'm on the estrogen pill. So far he's been exceptionally understanding and deserves for me to tell him the full truth, but despite feeling as if I've known him forever, I can't open up just yet.
"I haven't been with anyone since I broke up with my ex, but I'm willing to get tested again if that's what you want me to do, Sir." Breaking eye contact, I draw a deep breath, forbidding myself to tremble.
"Look at me, pet. We can continue this conversation another time if it's too much for you." His voice is low pitched, almost crooning, hitting me straight in my gut.
You don't deserve his sympathy when you're hiding the real reason you're upset, I scold myself.There is no point in telling him now when I don't know if our Dom/sub relationship will ever become serious. If and when the time comes, I'll tell him.
Exhaling, I lift my eyes and lie through my teeth. "No, I'm fine. Please, I'd prefer to continue, Sir." Hearing my words, he threads his hand through his hair as a flash of uncertainty passes through his eyes.
"Very well, pet. As you haven't had other power exchange partners before, do you know how your mind and body might respond to impact play and bondage? Any triggers I need to know about?" He arches his dark brows questioningly. My breath solidifies in my throat as dread clutches my chest.
I'm not good at sharing emotions. I prefer to keep them under lock and key. If this relationship is going to be based on open communication, trust and respect, I need to drop the walls I've built around me and let him see me; the real me. I've kept this deep, dark secret locked inside me for far too long. How can he see the real you when you are hiding a big secret?
Dispelling my annoying shoulder angel, I croak, "I've struggled to admit it to myself, but there's no time like the present, so here it goes. I'm a masochist. Just sexual, not emotional."
Scanning Sebastian's face, I search for evidence of silent mocking and judgment, but all I find is him staring at me with unabashed desire and an intensity that makes my breath catch. Clearing my throat, I add, "I can take a lot of pain before it becomes unbearable. I've always known it, but I was too ashamed to admit it. While I'm okay with impact play, I'm unsure about bondage and definitely not comfortable with humiliation, degradation, knife, blood or breath play. These are hard limits and triggers."
"You've nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Being a sexual masochist is only one aspect of who you are and it doesn't define you, Alexandra. As for bondage, we can negotiate when and what you are willing to try. If you change your mind or you feel it's too much, you can use your safe word and we'll stop immediately." His deep timbered voice is smooth, but insistent. I stare wordlessly at him, my heart pounding as a new and unexpected warmth surges through me.