I'm just coming to see what this is all about, that's all, she thought to herself. After all, what could happen?
Three steps into the space, her strut become something more like a stutter and then, a complete stop.
Before her, instead of some type of lounge with a long, mirrored bar, cozy booths and tables one could stand by to kibbitz with friends after a long day's work, was something she'd never even imagined was possible in this suburban pool of simplicity and homogeneity.
Instead of a posh bar, Diana found herself taking in a huge, warehouse-like space, sparsely lit, with bare steel posts supporting a ceiling painted black. There were things in here. Things like what looked like a giant wooden "X" with cuffs bolted to it, and benches padded with leather, studded with steel rings and leather cuffs, a bed inside some kind of a steel cage. One wall was covered with pegs and held what her mind could only describe as Torquemada's toy collection: whips, leather things with thick handles and dozens of falls; riding crops; chains; ropes; steel tings that looked like they were designed to hitch horses to; a glass-enclosed case filled with medical devices; another just as full of dildos and vibrators - there was simply too much there for her to take in.
What on earth? her mind managed as he stepped into her view.
"I see you decided to take me up on my invitation, Diana," he said, standing before her in a pool of light that might have simply appeared above him for all her overwhelmed mind could tell. He was dressed differently than when they'd met, but it fit him. A well-loved pair of Levi's stuffed into a recently shined pair of black leather boots, a short-sleeved shirt not quite buttoned all the way, allowing a peek at tattoos she never imagined were covering his chest in the business suit she was used to seeing him in, and a black leather vest, of all things.
"Wha - what is all this?" She managed, her voice almost squeaky it came out so high. She cringed inwardly at the stutter and wondered at her complete inability to speak in the presence of this unbelievably magnetic man.
"This ..." an expansive gesture, a sweep of his arm encompassing the unbelievable background he stood against. "Well, you asked if I'd show you how I like to relax some time," he answered, dark eyes glinting at some internal joke. "This is how.
"Now, if you will simply trust me, I will give you an experience like none you ever dreamed of. Are you game?"
How could she resist that smile, those shoulders, thick with muscle she longed to run her hands over, those hands - rough, even though he spent his days behind a desk, or those eyes - she definitely could not resist those eyes; she hadn't been able to, even when they were interacting in a business setting. His eyes were what had drawn her to accept an invitation for a drink. A drink that had turned into a dinner. Then two dinners. Then ... But he had always been a gentleman. A peck on the cheek good night. Never even alluding to a desire for something ... more. And then yesterday, he had given her a business card - an odd one, as it was black, and held only an address, printed in white on one side. Nothing else - and said, "I'd appreciate it if you'd come by at, say, six?"
It wasn't a question, the way he'd asked that.
And here she was, standing in shadow looking at this amazing man, who seemed totally relaxed in what she could only think to herself was some kind of dungeon. She considered turning around right then and leaving, but something stopped her.
"Will you trust me?" he asked again, his eyes seeming to bore through her, to lase every possible doubt from her mind, to reach down to her very toes and fill her with a warm desire she found almost embarrassing.
She couldn't speak, and only nodded, scared, but absolutely enthralled with the swarm of outlandish ideas careening through her mind.
"Good. Then I am going to put some music on while you strip."
While I STRIP?!!? her mind almost screamed at the way he nonchalantly delivered command. While I WHAT??!!?! Yet her hands moved of their own volition, letting her purse strap slide slowly down her arm, then allowing her business coat to follow. Next, those traitorous hands began unbuttoning her blouse - fumbling - but still still unbuttoning, even as her mind raged against her almost slavish obedience.
From somewhere off in the dark, she heard him ask, "Do you like trip-hop?" in a light, almost boyish tone. She kept peeling clothing from her body - unzipping her skirt and letting it drift to the floor, bra clasps next, then panties.
"Should I leave my stockings on?" she asked in a clear voice - no stutter. Her hands refused to fly to her mouth and cover it, even though she wanted to stop herself from complying.
"That would be nice," he purred in her ear. How had he gotten there without her noticing? Music that sounded almost slinky began to fill the space with lush tones as his hands found her bare skin and that traitorous skin reacted, goose bumps raising and shivers of absolute ecstasy thrilling down her spine. He'd never toucher her other than to shake her hand or give her that little, teasing peck on the cheek. And here she was, naked, absolutely enraptured by the simple caress of his calloused hands.
He slid those hands down her shoulders and arms, past her hands to her thighs and then back up, caressing her hips and her sides before bringing them to meet each other at her spine, and then back down, slowly, to her ass, and back around to her hips.
"I like those stockings a lot," he murmured, as he gently but firmly guided her toward one of the pools of light half-way across the room. There was a bench there - covered in leather and with steel loops bolted to its rough wooden frame.
"Wha - wha ..." she tried vainly to blurt a question, but her mouth was acting as traitorously as her hands had.
"Shhhh. Just trust me," was his firm reply as he stopped her in front of the bench, which had a knee-level padded "seat", but a padded top as well.
