*****
Something catches my eye. I wasn’t looking directly at it and for a moment, as I swing to face it, staring
out through the plate glass, I can’t work out what caught my attention….
Then I see it; across the road in the cafe, once more the sandy-haired man is seated at the bar. Quickly
I look away, walk across the lobby to rearrange some flowers in a vase, tidy up some leaflets and
brochures in the waiting area. Then I return to my desk and angle my laptop towards the cafe.
He’s is still there.
I tap at my keyboard, occasionally making a show of checking against the sign-in clipboard, as though I
am updating visitor records. In fact, I am setting the rear-facing camera to take the best shots I can. I
capture a couple of stills and message them to James as instructed, then I set the camera to video and
let it run.
Within twenty seconds a message window opens on my camera screen….
thnx kirstie, james here. sit tight and do nthng. am taking over your screen
The screen suddenly comes alive, quite independently of anything I am doing with the mouse.
He didn’t mention he could do that…
The camera zooms and focuses, centering on the man, but at the limit of its capacity, the image is
blurred, pixilating constantly, before abruptly, the screen splits in two and a series of controls appears.
They don’t look remotely familiar to me, but as I watch, utterly fascinated, the cursor dances over the
screen, nudging scales and fine-tuning measures.
The image of the stranger tightens, unfocuses, refocuses and then suddenly becomes pinpoint sharp.
The message screen reappears.
that’s the man?
yes
The camera icon starts clicking, concentrating on the face, but also zooming and refocusing on a ring
he wears, a partly revealed tattoo showing above his top shirt buttons, a document file, which I had not
noticed before, but which I now see on the table beside him.
The cursor whirls across the screen, capturing imagery, clicking as it goes.
Ye gods, but James knows what he’s doing….
Then I smile wryly to myself. You don’t get to be Technical Director of a multi-billion corporation by
being incompetent.
Like he said… there’s a reason he has the job….
So, what now?
*****
“Could we stay in tonight? Just you and me? Get takeaway food perhaps?”
“Sounds good,” murmurs Ryan. “I’d like to have you all to myself.”
He holds me in his arms and we dance to the lovely music washing through the air.
As we sway around the room, my face pressed close to his chest, I inhale the sweet perfume of my….
my what? My Master? My Dom certainly. My Lover too?
The moment feels trapped in time, one of those endless moments where precious seconds are
captured and preserved, held forever in the heart.
Does he feel it too?
He kisses my cheek, then my forehead. “Kirstie….”
“Mmmm…?”
“I know you love the excitement and the thrill…. and so do I…. of when we have sex, but….”
His voice is hesitant, as though he is afraid of something. “Ryan, is something wrong?”
“No, no nothing’s wrong. I just wonder….”
“Mmmm…? What? Tell me.”
“I want to make love with you.”
Time pauses, my heart stilling in my chest; and then it bangs hard inside me. Blood singing through my
ears, my mouth dry, I struggle to form the words.
“Yes, I want that too.”
He sighs, his face resting by mine, then standing back from me, his hands linked with mine, he looks
down on me.
“I want my lover in my bed,” he says, releasing one of my hands to lead me to the bedroom.
His lips curve, parting to show teeth very white against his tanned skin, the smile reaching up to his
dark eyes.
The room is bright and he turns on a small sidelight, pulling down the blind. In the soft glow, he stands
very close, his face resting against my forehead, his hands on my shoulders before, one hand gliding
down to my waist, the other in my hair, he bends to kiss me.
There is nothing of the forcefulness or the pressure of our previous encounters, delivered by him, at my
own request, forcefully, he dominating me.
Now, he is soft and slow, and warm. He nuzzles into my neck, nibbling and mouthing. His body pressed
to mine, already his erection bulges against me through our clothes, and a tremor in his flesh passes
through mine.
For all the electrifying thrill of our previous sex, now I want nothing more than for Ryan to love me with
his body. It feels altogether new, as if we are meeting for the first time. Yet I remember that, when it
really was our first, we were strangers. Now I know that I trust this man and….
And I need to say it to him now, while we are still like this; not in the throes of passion, not in the heat of
the moment, but now.
“I love you,” I whisper.
He freezes….
Oh, God. Was that a mistake?
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