CHAPTER SEVEN
After releasing Monica and helping her over to a low futon bed in the
dungeon, Cole joined her and covered them both with a large quilt.
Sleep came instantly and he fell into a near coma. Waking refreshed
the next morning, they elected to go out for Sunday brunch at a
restaurant in nearby Kirkland. Sitting at a table with the remains of
a delightful meal before them, they started to seriously discuss their
relationship.
"Things are developing a lot faster than I expected," he admitted.
"I've never been in a relationship like this one before. What do you
think of it?"
"I agree it's been fast, but I'm not complaining. I feel like I've
been waiting a long time for this." She reached her hand across the
small table to touch him. "I suppose my girlfriends would tease me
for being involved with a lawyer, though."
"Oh, yes. I forgot to tell you about that. Glad to see you figured
it out. Do you mind? Some people think we're a lower form of life."
With a relaxed chuckle she said, "Howard, I don't think you're
anyone's idea of an average lawyer. Did they teach you how to be
sexually dominant in law school? I've never met anyone who
understands it as well as you."
"I'm flattered that you think so, but I don't think anyone really
understands it completely. It's a very complex subject." As he
spoke, he scanned the dining area and noticed the nicely dressed,
almost prim and proper clientele. What would they think if they knew
what he and Monica were discussing?
He decided to bring up something that might be a touchy subject.
"Monica, how are you feeling about our age difference?"
"To tell the truth, Howard, I don't think about it at all when we're
together. It just seems very natural."
"I feel the same way, but I'm a little worried about what other people
will think. I've seen men my age suddenly appear with a sweet young
thing on their arm. Everyone immediately assumes that it's just a
young bimbo that he's acquired to help him through his mid-life
crisis. It wouldn't be fair to expose you to that kind of pressure."
"Hey sweetie, didn't I tell you that I've been dating guys older than
me? I know exactly what you're talking about and it doesn't bother me
a bit. Who cares what other people think? Eventually they'll see
that we're happy together and good for each other. The ones who can't
see past that first impression aren't worth worrying about."
She decided to move on to a different subject. "Howard, our play this
weekend has helped me learn some things about myself. Do you want to
hear about it?"
"Of course Little One... I mean Monica," he grinned.
"Well, Master Howard," she said with a touch of friendly sarcasm,
"I've been thinking about whether I'm a sub or a bottom. That was
always a big topic of discussion in my on-line groups. At this point,
I'd have to say I'm both. Just thinking about SM play makes me feel
subby and the more submissive I get, the more I crave the spanking,
the clothespins or whatever." While she spoke, she played
absentmindedly with a strand of her adorable brown curls that framed
her face.
"That certainly makes sense to me," he responded. "It took me a while
to find out that I was a dominant who liked psychological play as well
as a sadistic devil who liked to spank pretty women" He noticed how
her eyes sparkled as he spoke. "Maybe I just like making them give up
control."
When she thought about giving up control, Monica's eyes lost their
focus for a moment and she visualized what had happened to her last
night. With an effort, she snapped herself back to the conversation.
"Yes, I wonder if it all comes down to control?"
"It's as good a theory as any. If I can change the subject slightly,
how do you think our relationship will effect you at work? I wouldn't
want you slipping into subspace at work like you did just now."
"You noticed that? Hopefully it won't happen at work. I'm actually
pretty dominant when I have to be. You should see what a bitch I can
be sometimes!" She said it convincingly, but was glad he hadn't
noticed her stiffening nipples. It was going to take some time to
avoid slipping into those erotic daydreams.
"I can imagine you wearing spike heels and black leather, swinging a
long bullwhip around the office."
Giving her best Betty Page smile, she said, "that's me, Mistress
Monica."
"I hope you aren't Mistress Monica with me. I tried having a
relationship with a Femdom and it didn't work out."
"You? With a dominant woman? Do you mean a professional, uh...
Pro-Domme?"
"Oh yes, Nikki is a pro all right, a good one. Her working name is
"Mistress Valeria". The reason it didn't work out was that we were
both dominant. She's a great person and fun to be with, but we had no
sexual chemistry. Put two dominants together and what you get is a
vanilla relationship. We thought it was quite funny at the time."
"Oh, too bad. I was imagining you being beaten and verbally abused by
some bossy bitch in a Dominatrix costume," she teased.
"I'm afraid it wouldn't do anything for me, but if you're interested I
could contact her and see if she'd like to play with us sometimes.
She likes sexy little subby girls like you." He watched as Monica
looked thoughtful for a minute. "You once mentioned that you were a
little bisexual, right?"
"Yes, maybe more than a little. But I don't know if I want to be
dominant or submissive with another woman. Maybe just vanilla."
"Sounds like another fun avenue for us to explore. I'm certainly
willing to participate if you're interested."
She looked down and said shyly, "I'm interested, just nervous. Will
you help? Maybe you could surprise me sometime."
"I'll keep it in mind," he said casually. It sounded like the sort of
scene that would be spoiled if he talked about it too much. "Why
don't you tell me how you got that beautiful tattoo? I'll bet it was
expensive."
She laughed, "You won't believe it! My college roommate and I decided
that we wanted to get tattoos, but we didn't have much money. So, we
found out about a friend of a friend who would do us for forty dollars
each. This guy was supposed to be an art student with a lot of
talent, so we decided to take a chance.
When we went to his place, you could barely see through the haze of
marijuana smoke. We almost backed out when he insisted that he needed
to have a few drinks in order to do his best work. I was really
scared, but I love the final result. Later we found out that these
were his first tattoos. I can't believe how lucky I was."
Cole's eyes went wide, "His first tattoos? Yours looks like it was
done by a real professional. Damn, you were really lucky!"
When Monica stopped laughing, she asked, "Howard, how come it smells
like pipe tobacco in your office? I've never seen you smoking
anything."
"Oh, that," he said, waving his hand, "I like the smell of some pipe
tobaccos, so I use the stuff to give my office a nice masculine scent.
I'd never smoke the stuff!" He made an unpleasant face.
"OK, how about those photographs in your house, did you take those?"
"Sure did. Those are from my landscape period, before I discovered
the joys of photographing naked perverts doing naughty things," he
grinned. "I haven't photographed a mountain in years."
They sat there in their own world as the mundane people of Sunday
morning Seattle moved around them, somehow kept apart from them as if
by an invisible barrier. They held hands across the fine linen
tablecloth and looked into each other's eyes like any ordinary pair of
lovers.
