Shades of Grey Ch. 02

He somehow struck this balance that I hadn't assumed he would have. I thought he would just steamroll over me now that he knew what I liked sexually. But he seemed interested in my concerns beyond the bedroom, and it calmed me a great deal.

The waitress came by as soon as Mark closed his menu. "What can I get for you, Sir?" she asked, in a lilting, flirty voice that made my stomach turn. Mark, on his part, did not seem interested.

"I will have the Salmon with Grilled Asparagus and she will have the Chicken Alfredo," he responded confidently, not even glancing in my direction for confirmation. The waitress wrote down the orders and whisked away, promising to be back soon with bread and oil for dipping.

I sat in my seat, comfortable but still slightly nervous. I could feel him studying me, though I tried fiercely to not meet his eyes.

"Why won't you look at me?" He asked suddenly.

I peeked up at him, reminded myself of his attractiveness and confidence, and a growing sense of unworthiness crept up into my gut. I remembered what he'd said about honesty and communication and I took a deep breath. "You intimidate me, and I'm afraid that if I say the wrong thing, it'll give you even more reason to not like me." My voice was quiet, but controlled.

He smirked slightly. "You intimidate me too, if I'm going to be quite honest. You are rather stunning, Taylor, though you don't give yourself much credit. And if you say the wrong thing, I will tell you, and you will have the chance correct it, or leave if you'd prefer. That's the nice thing about being a submissive, no?" He responded. His words calmed me, and I felt the flush in my cheeks lessen slightly.

"I guess you're right," I said, giving him a slight smile.

"I know I am, pet," he retorted, eyeing my reaction as he sipped his wine. I gave a slight gasp, and felt shudders run through my body. I closed my eyes to try and control myself, and when I opened them again, I connected with his own lust-filled eyes studying me over the rim of his glass. I longed for the iced tea he'd ordered me, so I could distract myself from his maddening gaze.

"You've freed your schedule this weekend?" He asked, taking another small sip.

I nodded in response, fiddling with my hands. "Use your words, Taylor," he reminded me firmly.

"I- yes. Yes I freed my schedule for this weekend," I told him. He smiled down at me, pleased.

"Good. I'm quite pleased with you already. You seem to fit this role quite nicely. A reminder, but not a rule, that while I enjoy the power exchange going on right now, you are not required to submit to me for the duration of this meal. I stand by what I said earlier. I want to get to know you, and if you're looked in a submissive mindset, that won't happen as effectively unless I order you to do things, and I promised I wouldn't. So, please, relax, and let's just talk. Okay?" Mark said, smiling softly.

I looked up at him, took a deep breath, and said, "Okay. Sorry, I'm just nervous about all of this. It's so new and I don't really know how to act."

"That's your problem," he responded, "it's not supposed to be acting. Just do whatever you feel like doing."

I laughed a little, and tried to make myself loosen up. The waitress came by with my iced tea, which provided a nice distraction from the warm sensation in my crotch and gave me something to do instead of stuttering around.

"Tell me more about yourself, Taylor," Mark instructed kindly, probably sensing that I needed some kind of direction or I would stay quiet. I'd warned him that this happened when I was nervous or unsure of myself, and he was handling it like an utter champ.

"What would you like to know?" It was my standard response, otherwise I tended to ramble and not know what to say.

His eyes hardened slightly. "Whatever you think I ought to know."

Not the answer I was hoping for. I took a sip of my drink to collect my thoughts. Just be honest. "Well, my name is Taylor B—Grace," I said, quickly switching from my married name to my maiden name. It was a nasty force of habit, and though I know he caught the slip, Mark said nothing about it. "I live about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes out from here in an apartment near my work. I used to work in direct HR conflict resolution tasks, but now I do more secretarial and clerical work. I moved here about three years ago after," I paused, unsure of where I was going, then forged on, "after I quit my job due to some, um, other things. And that's kind of it."

Mark eyed me, but said nothing upon the completion of my monologue.

There was an awkward silence, which just happened to be when the waitress brought our food. She placed a steaming plate of chicken alfredo in front of me. I inhaled- it smelled absolutely delicious. The salmon Mark had ordered for himself looked simply incredible too.

With the arrival of the food, things somehow seemed much more normal, and we started to just talk. He told me a bit more about himself, surprisingly an OBGYN at a local clinic. I laughed a little when he told me, and he looked quite pleased with my reaction.

We fell into a comfortable conversation, and when his hands found their way over to mine and twined together, I didn't mind in the slightest. It felt comfortable, natural, reassuring to have his hands touch mine. It was when he started to fiddle with my bracelets on each hand that I remembered why I'd worn them.

I quickly, and somewhat rudely, withdrew my hands and placed them firmly on my lap.

His forehead creased and his eyebrows pulled together, both concerned and confused. "I-um, need to go to the bathroom," I told him to cover for it. He nodded, and gestured in its direction. I thanked him and quickly scurried away so I could pull myself together.

Once in the lady's room, I quickly used the restroom, then stood before the mirrors and studied my face. I asked myself if I was truly ready for this, if this was something I really thought that I could handle, all things considered.

And you know what?

It was.

I smiled slightly, even though my nerves ran rampant. If this was something that was going to last, I would have fled the bathroom and ran from the restaurant without looking back. But this was a one night stand—er a weekend stand, I suppose. He wouldn't be able to hurt me and everything would be just fine.

I took one last deep breath and turned to leave the bathroom, a new sense of confidence and calmness accompanying me as I did so.

Mark smiled upon my return. He'd gotten two boxes so we could package up the leftovers and take them back with us. Both were essentially ready to go.

"I didn't order dessert for us. I was too full, and I figured you were as well," he commented as I sat across from him.

I nodded, "Yeah, I don't think I could eat anymore. This food was delicious though. I've never been here before, but I've passed by it. It was quite good, thank you."

He smiled. "My pleasure."

I paused for a moment, then reached into my purse. I pulled out the pepper spray, which sat on top, and placed it on the table so I could get below it to what I had stored there. I heard him chuckle, but he said nothing about my bringing it. He'd told me to do whatever I needed to do to feel safe, so I had.

I found the packet of papers, clearing me of any STDs or pertinent medical conditions, and passed it to him without a word. He glanced down at it then grinned up at me, cocking an eyebrow. He returned his gaze to the papers, reading them thoroughly before passing them back to me.

"Thank you. Mine are in my car. I'd be happy to escort you out there so you can read them, or I can escort you to your car and you can go home," He said, clearly trying to give me an out I wanted one.

I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second, found my voice, and said, "Let's go to your car."

He grinned mischievously, stood, and reached to help me out of my seat. Again he offered me his arm, which I took with my assurance this time. He carried the food out to his car, only removing his touch from me for long enough to unlock his car and find the papers. He passed them to me, and insisted I read them as thoroughly as he'd read mine.

And I did.

There was nothing I found to be even remotely alarming. He had an entirely clean bill of health. He'd promised that we would still use a condom as extra protection, so I felt completely safe in the encounters we would have this weekend.

I passed the papers back to him, suddenly anxious again. "Taylor?" he asked, looking down at me.

I looked back up at him. He was much taller than I was, something that usually happened. This was why I normally wore heels—they imbued me with some semblance of dignity in my 5'2" frame. But standing here by him, I felt almost like a child—weak, unsure, fragile, shy. Then his hands found mine and squeezed lightly.

"I could follow you to your house in my car," I offered. This was the plan we'd agreed upon from the beginning, so that I would have a way to leave if need be.

He leaned down, resting his forehead on mine in a move that felt far too intimate from someone I'd only really just met. His breath mingled with mine a bit, and he just stood like that for a moment or two before pressing a sweet kiss onto my forehead.

"Sounds like a plan, pet."

I shivered again, knowing he could feel it. He chuckled at my reaction, then released me. He walked me to my car, only a few spots away, and stood there until I had the car on and was buckled securely into the driver's seat.

He smiled widely at me, got into his own car, buckled up, and pulled out. He stopped at the edge of the parking lot to make sure I was behind him before he pulled out.

I appreciated his careful driving as I followed behind him, never losing sight of his vehicle or feeling even sort of stressed by his driving skills. He was entirely cautious and it made me admire him a bit more. Somehow, it made me think that he would treat me with that same level of control and caution, and that made me feel safe.

We pulled up to a stunning white house in a suburban neighborhood, maybe 10 minutes out from the restaurant. The lawn was immaculately trimmed, and there was a gorgeous little garden area off to one side. I pulled my car up into his driveway, and sent out one final text message to my landlord. She was the person I'd chosen to have as my safety contact in case things went poorly. I told her it was a blind-date, hook-up situation, and that I'd text her if I was planning on staying the night at his place so she wouldn't worry. I then told her I'd text her every day if I stayed longer than that. If I didn't, she'd call the cops because something was wrong.

I cut the ignition to my car, and unbuckled. Mark came around and surprised me by opening the door for me. It was a nice gesture, and it made me feel welcome. His grip on my shoulder as we walked to the door made me feel more submissive than I thought I could ever really feel, and I found myself leaning into him slightly as we walked. The more I leaned, the tighter and more possessive his grip became, which caused me to lean into him more. It was a delightful cycle.

We got to his door and I took a deep breath. He took his hands off of me completely and turned to face me. His eyes were searching in the gradually dimming light. "Are you sure about this?" he asked seriously.

I knew my answer. "Yes, Mark. I am sure."

He kissed my forehead one more time, his hands finding home on my shoulder and chin as he pulled my head up to meet his gaze.

"Rules. Beyond this door, when we are in a scene, I am not Mark. You will refer to me as "sir." Scenes stay in the bedroom unless agreed upon otherwise. No shoes in the house, as a general rule. If you need food or something to drink, please do not hesitate to ask. I'll be happy to oblige. You will have about half an hour each night to yourself to perform various sanitation practices, so don't worry about that. I may ask you to do submissive things outside of a scene—those are up to you, though it would please me greatly if you do them. You'll discover what they are as we spend more time together. Sunday at 8:00 PM, we cut ways. Nothing goes beyond that time frame, as we discussed a few weeks earlier. Agreed?" His voice was firm and strong, and I nearly melted.

"Agreed."

"Safe word?" He asked.

"Blubber," I responded. He smiled slightly.

"Check-in system?" He fired at me.

"Green-go, I'm doing good. Yellow- check-in, nearing my limit, might need to talk or adjust. Red-all play stops immediately, we talk, then I decide if we continue or not," I retorted rapidly. I knew that system better than anything else about this lifestyle.

He grinned. "Ready, pet?" He asked, his voice transitioning from teasing to authoritative and firm. My knees almost buckled, but I continued looking him right in the eyes.

"Yes, sir."

He turned, opened the door, and ushered me inside.