The Surrogate

They went out for dinner, just the 2 of them. Smiling. Laughing. Enjoying as much good conversation, as they had the food and wine. The little cafe was perfect for the couple to enjoy the evening. They only left after it became apparent that the staff wanted to go home.

He escorted her to the car, a hand placed, on the small of her back. She felt safe and secure, in his knowledge of the area, and that no harm would come to her, in his company.

Upon arriving back at his home, he lead her into the living space, beyond the foyer. Taking her wrap, he laid it on the back of one of the overstuffed chairs. Chairs mean to be curled up in, to enjoy the firelight, that might be lit on a night when the weather turned cold. For now, he opened up the drapes, and pushed out the window, allowing the night breeze to fill the room. "A glass of wine? Perhaps a brandy?"

She enjoyed the feel of the cooler air swirling around her bare arms, her head was swirling like the fragrance of the roses climbing along the trellised sides of the balcony. "Would you be upset if I asked for water, instead?"

"Of course not my dear. I am happy to accommodate such a beauty in all that she desires." His fingers brushed hers as he handed her the tall glass.

He sat down in his favorite chair. It was unlike the others in the room, more wood and iron, than soft and fluff. He had watched his own grandfather sit in this chair after a dinner, and then his father, after a day in the office. It may not have matched the other pieces in the room, but it fit him, and he it.

He sipped from his glass of brandy, allowing the warmth of it to fill his nose, and mouth; much like the woman curling her legs beneath her, did for warming his spirit. There was something about the way she held her end of the conversation tonight, that made him ponder the future. A luxury that he had not indulged in, in some time.

He watched her drinking the water. He admired her choices, both in the way that she honored her body's needs, and her clothing attire. There was nothing flashy about the dress she had chosen tonight. Deep purple, with capped sleeves, and a modest hemline; yet it made the most of her chest, by allowing him to view just the bare top of her cleavage, with its dropping neckline. It was the perfect complement to her skin tone. The way that she wore her hair a bit up from her face, yet dropping down her back, accenting the layers of her curls. Yes, he watched her and tried to figure out just how she came to be such the creature that she was.

They continued discussing common interests, items from current events, and the latest display at the local museum. She was a multi-faceted person, and this would have been enough, but for the fact that her gaze wandered from time to time. He couldn't help but be the person that he was either. This might have gone unnoticed to most men, but to him, he was keenly aware of her there, in the chair a bit off to the side of his left side. The way her she adjusted her body from time to time, in the chair caused by her animated way of discussing her thoughts. Did she realize how much she twirled the end of her hair, when she was listening to his thoughts?

Then it hit him, like a ton of bricks, as they say.

"Are you collared?" He asked her.

She had been explaining her thoughts on promptness and how she felt it was rude to be late for engagements, and why. When suddenly, all of the air in the room was sucked out, by some sort of vacuum. "Huh?"

By the confused expression on her face, he realized the truth of why her gaze kept wandering. She was staring at him. Her facial expressions moving at such a rapid rate of change, he was having trouble keeping up with them. He asked again, "Does someone already hold the key to your collar, little one?"

"Yes."

She paused.

"Hmmm no."

She shook her head and dropped it.

"I don't know exactly. It's complicated."

"Complicated, how?" Hunger from earlier in the evening was back, with a vengeance and it was not for Pasta primavera.

"Well, I do have a collar of sorts."

"Of sorts?" He cleared his throat.

She looked in her lap, willing her hands to stop moving. "I have a bracelet. But he gave it back to me. To hold on too, he said. But I thought that we had agreed that he would hold on to it. That he would get to decide when I wore it. If I wore it. That sort of thing. It's complicated."

He wished that she would look up at him. The way she hung her head made him growl in response. What happened to the confident woman who had been with him all evening? She was taken. But not. He calmed himself, and sipped from his brandy glass again. "I see. It's okay little one."

She got up and began to pace, along with her mumbling reply to him. "It's not that we aren't committed. We just don't do things like other people who do this sort of thing. We don't have some set of rules and regulations. There isn't any of the stupid stuff about who has to do what. We weren't even sure if this was really happening. We just sort of fell into it."

"I see." He said. Then thought to himself, the blind leading the blind and not doing a very good job of things, from the look of it. If she had tumbled into him first, oh the things he could have taught her. Then he realized that he was missing part of her soliloquy. Her hands now matching the pace she kept up around the room. Pausing to look out the window. Then picking up pace again, when going for her glass. Picking it up to drink, then putting it down again, without having tasted a drop.

"You don't see. It's not like that. It's good. It is. It's just different. I wouldn't want to do this with anyone else. I don't know that I could stomach the fluffy bunny crap that I see out there in the big ole world of BSDM. I love him. I just don't know if I'm "collared" per say."

"Come here little one." He was growing agitated with her agitation. He held out a hand to her. He saw her stop in her tracks and pause. Looking at his feet again. "It's okay. I am not going to bite you."

She looked up at him. He breathed slowly, and softly.

She looked at him. He was so kind. How could they be talking about this? What in the world? She hadn't said or done anything to tell him about this part of herself. She quickly ran back to everything that they had ever talked about in the group that they socialized in. Replayed every conversation on-line. Tried to recall what could have possibly led them to this moment.

"Please come closer to me." He could see her confusion. Then let out a small sigh at her start to cross the room.

"I can't do this with you." She straightened her spine and walked slowly to him.

"I am not asking you to do anything but to stand a bit closer." She was cautious of him now. How had this happened? His hand was still the same one that had held hers as they crossed the street earlier. Still the same kind eyes. But now she realized that there was something else there. She didn't want to ruin their evening. It had been so lovely. She knew that she was going to disappoint him. Her answer, was in where she stood.

He dropped his hand on his thigh. He adjusted his back, and felt a bit wobbly, even sitting in the chair. She was still so lovely. Still so strong. "I am not asking you to betray your master."

"He's not my master!" Her voice a bit louder than she intended.

"Mia culpa. My apologies. I am still very much as you say, fluffy bunny, I guess. I am sorry to have assumed. I don't wish to upset you any further dear."

"It's just not like that. We don't use titles like that."

"But you do call him something, right?"

"I call him by his name."

He laughed softly. "Of course you do. I will hedge to bet though, that he calls you by a nickname, though, doesn't he?"

"Poppet. Sometimes he calls me his poppet. When we cuddle. It's not like some formal title or anything. It's just not like that for us."

"Poppet. I think that it suits you. It fits, yes. But I won't call you that. For it is a special thing I do not wish to intrude upon. Ever. I don't want to take you from him. I don't wish to step on anyone's toes."

"What do you want then?"

He could see her defenses rising up. This was not what he had wanted. He just wanted to help her. There was a need there, and he longed to satisfy it. Her head dropped back down at the floor. He reached for her hand, and forced her gaze back to him.

"When was the last time you knelt little one?"

"I told you we don't do stuff like that. There's none of this kneeling and shit."

"Ever?" He dared her to lie to him again.

"It's not like that." She blew the hair from her face. "It's just not like what you think."

"Explain it to me."

"Okay. Sometime I kneel down. But only when I want to. When I have something that I want to tell him. That's serious. That's important. That I want to make sure that he is giving me his full attention. I don't do it a lot. Like maybe 4 times so far. And not for long. Cause the rug hurts my knees and I'm not exactly young."

"I see." He thought and thought, allowing the music to fill the space that was growing between them. Her in her thoughts. He is his. His hand still holding hers. She felt his thumb begin to move back and forth across her knuckles. What did he want from her? This was insane. She should just leave. This was a total mess now.

He let the piece play out and then looked at her. "Would you like to kneel now?"

"I told you that I'm not going to submit to you. I don't do this like that. My thing is different. I don't do the ropes and whips thing. That is not what I like. I can't just go around and kneel down in front of every idiot declaring that he is a dominant. It's just not the same for me. I don't know how to explain this to you."

"I am not asking to tie you up. I am not going to beat you. I am not going to say that I wouldn't love to have your submission. Any 'idiot' as you put it, would be an even bigger idiot, not to want that from you. But you are the one who keeps looking at the space between my feet. You have not stopped looking since we arrived. Are you going to stand there and tell me that you don't long to just, rest?"

"I'm not having sex with you."

"I am not asking for sex from you. I only want to help."

"And my kneeling down here on the floor is going to help me somehow?"

"Yes."

She stood there and just couldn't think, for all of the thoughts that swarmed around in her head. She stopped drinking earlier and now wished that she hadn't. She felt him drop her hand, like a hot potatoe. He stood up and kissed the top of her head. "I will be right back. Please don't leave." He walked into another room. She could hear something being moved. Then he came back, holding onto a large pillow.

He sat back down in his chair. She stepped backwards with one foot, trying to regain her balance. He lovingly caressed the oversized pillow, and placed it gingerly on the floor between his feet. Then sat back and picked up his brandy glass, and relaxed a bit.

"What?" she questioned him.

He let the brandy snake down around his tongue, then down his throat. She was every contradiction in the book. A mess of so many of the things, that he loved about women. He held out his hand to her again. She grabbed it without hesitation. "Kneel down little one."

In a fluid motion, her body came down, onto her knees, softly landing upon the velvet. Her spine still held, upright, strong, and confident. With a small gesture of his hand, she sat backwards, upon her heels. Resting her body, there between his legs, he could smell the perfume wafting up towards him.

She took back her hand from him, and looked up at him. "I'm going to state this one more time. I am not submitting to you for anything other than this. You understand. I am not doing this for anything like that."

"I understand. I am grateful to you little one. You are helping me. Truly. It has been a long time since I was allowed to provide this safe space for such a beautiful woman." Sitting back, he picked up the remote to the sound system, and raised the volume to fill the room.

"Oh." She watched his face relax. His whole body seemed to vibrate differently now. She felt this need. It was a need that she never had a name for. Nameless. Regardless, she knew it, as well as she knew her ABC's. She raised her left arm, and placed it on top of his thigh, and then relaxed her head into the crook of it. This I can do, she thought.

His right hand came up to her head, and lay like a warm blanket on her hair. His thumb beginning it's now familiar stroking. Her breathing evened out, as the song progressed through its movements. Each movement of the concerto, allowing each of them to become more and more relaxed, into their roles.

~fin~