“Oh, not even one of the fifteen?”
“You remembered. No, none of the fifteen.”
“Oh.”
Yes…only you, baby. The thought is unsettling.
“You know, Anastasia, it’s been a weekend of firsts for me, too.”
“It has?”
“I’ve never slept with anyone, never had sex in my bed, never flown a girl in Charlie Tango, never introduced a woman to my mother. What are you doing to me?”
Yeah. What the hell are you doing to me? This isn’t me.
The waitress brings us our chilled wine, and Ana immediately takes a quick sip, her bright eyes on me. “I’ve really enjoyed this weekend,” she says, with bashful delight in her voice. I have, too, and I realize I haven’t enjoyed a weekend for a while…since Susannah and I parted ways. I tell her so.
“What’s vanilla sex?” she asks.
I laugh at her unexpected question and complete change of topic.
“Just straightforward sex, Anastasia. No toys, no add-ons.” I shrug. “You know—well, actually you don’t, but that’s what it means.”
“Oh,” she says, and she looks a little crestfallen.
What now?
The waitress diverts us, putting down two soup bowls full of greenery. “Nettle soup,” she announces, and struts back into the kitchen. We glance at each other, then back at the soup. A quick taste informs us both that it’s delicious. Ana giggles at my exaggerated expression of relief.
“That’s a lovely sound,” I say softly.
“Why have you never had vanilla sex before? Have you always done, what you’ve done?” She’s as inquisitive as ever.
“Sort of.” And then I wonder if I should expand on this. More than anything, I want her to be forthcoming with me; I want her to trust me. I’m never this candid, but I think I can trust her so I choose my words carefully.
“One of my mother’s friends seduced me when I was fifteen.”
“Oh.” Ana’s spoon pauses midway from the bowl to her mouth.
“She had very particular tastes. I was her submissive for six years.”
“Oh,” she breathes.
“So I do know what it involves, Anastasia.” More than you know. “I didn’t really have a run-of-the-mill introduction to sex.” I couldn’t be touched. I still can’t.
I wait for her reaction but she continues with her soup, mulling over this tidbit of information. “So you never dated anyone in college?” she asks, when she’s finished her last spoonful.
“No.”
The waitress interrupts us to clear our empty bowls. Ana waits for her to leave. “Why?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t want to. She was all I wanted, needed. And besides, she’d have beaten the shit out of me.”
She blinks a couple of times as she absorbs this news. “So if she was a friend of your mother’s, how old was she?”
“Old enough to know better.”
“Do you still see her?” She sounds shocked.
“Yes.”
“Do you still…er—” She blushes crimson, her mouth turned down.
“No,” I say quickly. I don’t want her to have the wrong idea about my relationship with Elena. “She’s a very good friend,” I reassure her.
“Oh. Does your mother know?”
“Of course not.”
My mother would kill me—and Elena, too.
The waitress returns with the main entrée: venison. Ana takes a long sip of her wine. “But it can’t have been full-time?” She’s ignoring her food.
“Well, it was, though I didn’t see her all the time. It was…difficult. After all, I was still at school and then at college. Eat up, Anastasia.”
“I’m really not hungry, Christian,” she says.
I narrow my eyes. “Eat.” I keep my voice low, as I try to check my temper.
“Give me a moment,” she says, her tone as quiet as mine.
What’s her problem? Elena?
“Okay,” I agree, wondering if I’ve told her too much, and I take a bite of my venison.
Finally, she picks up her cutlery and starts eating.
Good.
“Is this what our, um…relationship will be like?” she asks. “You ordering me around?” She scrutinizes the plate of food in front of her.
“Yes.”
“I see.” She tosses her ponytail over her shoulder.
“And what’s more, you’ll want me to.”
“It’s a big step,” she says.
“It is.” I close my eyes. I want to do this with her, now more than ever. What can I say to convince her to give our arrangement a try?
“Anastasia, you have to go with your gut. Do the research, read the contract. I’m happy to discuss any aspect. I’ll be in Portland until Friday if you want to talk about it before then. Call me—maybe we can have dinner—say, Wednesday? I really want to make this work. In fact, I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want this.”
Whoa. Big speech, Grey. Did you just ask her on a date?
“What happened to the fifteen?” she asks.
“Various things, but it boils down to incompatibility.”
“And you think that I might be compatible with you?”
“Yes.”
I hope so…
“So you’re not seeing any of them anymore?”
“No, Anastasia, I’m not. I am monogamous in my relationships.”
“I see.”
“Do the research, Anastasia.”
She puts her knife and fork down, signaling that she’s finished her meal.
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to eat?”
She nods, placing her hands in her lap, and her mouth sets in that mulish way she has…and I know it will be a fight to persuade her to clean her plate. No wonder she’s so slim. Her eating issues will be something to work on, if she agrees to be mine. As I continue to eat, her eyes dart to me every few seconds and a slow flush stains her cheeks.
Oh, what’s this?
“I’d give anything to know what you’re thinking right at this moment.” She’s clearly thinking about sex. “I can guess,” I tease.
“I’m glad you can’t read my mind.”
“You remembered. No, none of the fifteen.”
“Oh.”
Yes…only you, baby. The thought is unsettling.
“You know, Anastasia, it’s been a weekend of firsts for me, too.”
“It has?”
“I’ve never slept with anyone, never had sex in my bed, never flown a girl in Charlie Tango, never introduced a woman to my mother. What are you doing to me?”
Yeah. What the hell are you doing to me? This isn’t me.
The waitress brings us our chilled wine, and Ana immediately takes a quick sip, her bright eyes on me. “I’ve really enjoyed this weekend,” she says, with bashful delight in her voice. I have, too, and I realize I haven’t enjoyed a weekend for a while…since Susannah and I parted ways. I tell her so.
“What’s vanilla sex?” she asks.
I laugh at her unexpected question and complete change of topic.
“Just straightforward sex, Anastasia. No toys, no add-ons.” I shrug. “You know—well, actually you don’t, but that’s what it means.”
“Oh,” she says, and she looks a little crestfallen.
What now?
The waitress diverts us, putting down two soup bowls full of greenery. “Nettle soup,” she announces, and struts back into the kitchen. We glance at each other, then back at the soup. A quick taste informs us both that it’s delicious. Ana giggles at my exaggerated expression of relief.
“That’s a lovely sound,” I say softly.
“Why have you never had vanilla sex before? Have you always done, what you’ve done?” She’s as inquisitive as ever.
“Sort of.” And then I wonder if I should expand on this. More than anything, I want her to be forthcoming with me; I want her to trust me. I’m never this candid, but I think I can trust her so I choose my words carefully.
“One of my mother’s friends seduced me when I was fifteen.”
“Oh.” Ana’s spoon pauses midway from the bowl to her mouth.
“She had very particular tastes. I was her submissive for six years.”
“Oh,” she breathes.
“So I do know what it involves, Anastasia.” More than you know. “I didn’t really have a run-of-the-mill introduction to sex.” I couldn’t be touched. I still can’t.
I wait for her reaction but she continues with her soup, mulling over this tidbit of information. “So you never dated anyone in college?” she asks, when she’s finished her last spoonful.
“No.”
The waitress interrupts us to clear our empty bowls. Ana waits for her to leave. “Why?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t want to. She was all I wanted, needed. And besides, she’d have beaten the shit out of me.”
She blinks a couple of times as she absorbs this news. “So if she was a friend of your mother’s, how old was she?”
“Old enough to know better.”
“Do you still see her?” She sounds shocked.
“Yes.”
“Do you still…er—” She blushes crimson, her mouth turned down.
“No,” I say quickly. I don’t want her to have the wrong idea about my relationship with Elena. “She’s a very good friend,” I reassure her.
“Oh. Does your mother know?”
“Of course not.”
My mother would kill me—and Elena, too.
The waitress returns with the main entrée: venison. Ana takes a long sip of her wine. “But it can’t have been full-time?” She’s ignoring her food.
“Well, it was, though I didn’t see her all the time. It was…difficult. After all, I was still at school and then at college. Eat up, Anastasia.”
“I’m really not hungry, Christian,” she says.
I narrow my eyes. “Eat.” I keep my voice low, as I try to check my temper.
“Give me a moment,” she says, her tone as quiet as mine.
What’s her problem? Elena?
“Okay,” I agree, wondering if I’ve told her too much, and I take a bite of my venison.
Finally, she picks up her cutlery and starts eating.
Good.
“Is this what our, um…relationship will be like?” she asks. “You ordering me around?” She scrutinizes the plate of food in front of her.
“Yes.”
“I see.” She tosses her ponytail over her shoulder.
“And what’s more, you’ll want me to.”
“It’s a big step,” she says.
“It is.” I close my eyes. I want to do this with her, now more than ever. What can I say to convince her to give our arrangement a try?
“Anastasia, you have to go with your gut. Do the research, read the contract. I’m happy to discuss any aspect. I’ll be in Portland until Friday if you want to talk about it before then. Call me—maybe we can have dinner—say, Wednesday? I really want to make this work. In fact, I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want this.”
Whoa. Big speech, Grey. Did you just ask her on a date?
“What happened to the fifteen?” she asks.
“Various things, but it boils down to incompatibility.”
“And you think that I might be compatible with you?”
“Yes.”
I hope so…
“So you’re not seeing any of them anymore?”
“No, Anastasia, I’m not. I am monogamous in my relationships.”
“I see.”
“Do the research, Anastasia.”
She puts her knife and fork down, signaling that she’s finished her meal.
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to eat?”
She nods, placing her hands in her lap, and her mouth sets in that mulish way she has…and I know it will be a fight to persuade her to clean her plate. No wonder she’s so slim. Her eating issues will be something to work on, if she agrees to be mine. As I continue to eat, her eyes dart to me every few seconds and a slow flush stains her cheeks.
Oh, what’s this?
“I’d give anything to know what you’re thinking right at this moment.” She’s clearly thinking about sex. “I can guess,” I tease.
“I’m glad you can’t read my mind.”
