Paddled by the Teacher Page 6

  “So have I. Did you mean anything you said to me, Slade, or was it all part of the act?” It’s a cruel thing to ask, but a necessary one.

  A brief flash of pain, but not anger. That’s more telling than anything he could say right now, so I disengage myself from his embrace. “Guess that’s my cue.”

  He grabs my arm. “Chelsea, I meant everything I said. I told you that.”

  “Yeah. I know.” I turn to face him. “You mean what you say and you say what you mean. But consider this. I’m the one standing here, asking if we’ll see each other again.”

  “It’s more complicated than you understand.”

  “I’ve heard that before, too. It’s code for, ‘I don’t want to see you again, but I don’t want to hurt you by saying so’.”

  “You’re not being fair.”

  “And you’re not being honest. Not with me, and more importantly, not with yourself.” I pull my arm from his grasp. Where this newfound assertiveness came from, I have no clue, but I’m brave and confident as it surges through me.

  “Thank you again for last night, Slade. It meant the world to me.”

  “It did to me, too.”

  That soft voice stops me for a second, and our gazes lock, but he doesn’t move toward me or say another word. If I don’t get out of here now, I will break down and cry. That is not the image I want to leave him with. Instead, his last memory of me will be the one where I walk away, my head held high, and my face dry.

  It takes two blocks before the tears come, accompanied by huge choking sobs that leave me breathing hard and unable to focus. I have to sit on a cement stoop outside an abandoned warehouse. At least, it appears abandoned. Perhaps Doms live in there, running a BDSM club and conducting experiments to determine how much impact play women inexperienced in the lifestyle can take?

  Why did I do this to myself? I knew what this was, and what it wasn’t. I built it up into something magical in my mind, only to be faced with reality this morning. Just because he was attracted to me, and told me I was beautiful, didn’t mean he wanted to date me. It didn’t mean he wanted a relationship with me. He never said any of those things. I interpreted what he said in the context of my desires. I did this to myself.

  Again.

  It’s not the first time I’ve imagined a glance, a word, or a snippet of conversation held the promise of something more. Granted, I’ve also never done anything like this. Spent the night with an actual Dom, letting him spank me, paddle me, flog me, restrain me, use nipple clamps on me, and fuck me into next week. There’s a big difference between this, and pretty much everything else that came before.

  But in the end, the result is the same. I’m alone.

  I’m used to this state. I survive in it. I have a job and an apartment. A nice apartment. People tell me I’m lucky. No husband, no kids, no one to worry about except me. Women don’t need men in their lives to be fulfilled. But why is it so wrong to want someone to hold? To kiss? To talk to late at night? To fuck? Why is it wrong to want that?

  When I spy a man shuffling toward me, I stand and walk quickly away. It’s not a crime-ridden neighborhood, but it is early in the morning and there aren’t many people around. My walk home takes no more than twenty minutes. The entire Sunday is stretched out before me, with nothing to do. I didn’t sleep much last night. I should lie down.

  As soon as I do, the memories won’t leave me. I will recall every exquisite detail of last night for the rest of my life. I still smell him. I still sense his touch. My groin is sore from his cock inside my pussy. How am I supposed to simply forget all this? How am I expected to go on with my life as if it never happened?

  ****

  I wake to my cell phone ringing, and knock over the bedside lamp as I reach to answer it. What time is it?

  “Hello?”

  “Chelsea? Did I wake you?”

  Oh holy fuck… “Slade… No, no I’m up.” A quick glance at my alarm clock reveals it’s six in the evening. Did I really sleep all day?

  “I know you have to work in the morning, but I was hoping we could talk.”

  We’re talking now. “Actually, I’m on vacation this week.” I have so many unused vacation days that I’m in danger of having them roll off forever if I don’t use them.

  “Wonderful. It’s short notice, but may I take you to dinner tomorrow evening?”

  What? I’m stunned into silence for a second or two. Or, is it longer? All sense of time is gone. “I would love that.” I hope I’ve said that out loud. My head is spinning so I’m not certain.

  “Great. Thank you.” He confirms my address from all those papers I filled out and signed. “You’re not far away at all, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Is six all right?”

  “Six is great.”

  “Wonderful. Thank you, Chelsea. See you tomorrow evening at six.”

  I stare at my cell phone after the call is disconnected. I’m having dinner with Slade. Is that so he’s able to let me down easy in a public place? I likely caught him off guard this morning, or he was as tired as I was, and couldn’t focus his thoughts.

  An experience I never told Slade about fills my mind. Perhaps I should have confessed that memory, too? A man who used to work in the ad agency asked me out, early in my career there. He was quite a catch, and a lot of my female coworkers had things to say about that. We went out three times, and I had worked up the relationship in my mind to the point I believed it would go somewhere.

  The fourth date was in an expensive restaurant. He even kissed me a few times. But in the end, he’d taken me there to end it. He said he wanted our last date to be special. The bastard even suggested we have sex, so we’d have the memories, at least.

  Fucking asshole. He left the agency shortly after that, so at least my humiliation wasn’t prolonged by having to see him every day.

  One thing is certain. I will not allow this dinner with Slade to become something it’s not. Never again. I’m done building things up in my mind, only to end up playing the fool once more.

  ****

  Since I neglected to ask Slade where we were going, and consequently have no clue how to dress for this, I go shopping Monday morning. There’s a place not too far from my building where the salespeople don’t judge my size, and sell me clothing that flatters my body instead of hides it. I won’t shop anywhere else. If they ever close, I’ll be devastated.

  “And you have no clue where he’s taking you?” Shelby, the owner, is excited for me when I explain I have a dinner date. But I haven’t told her the details of how I met Slade. No way.

  “No.”

  “Okay. We’ll go with classic. That way you can’t miss. If it’s casual, you won’t be overdressed. If it’s a four-star restaurant he had to pull strings to get into, you’ll blend right in.”

  I laugh. “Where are these magical outfits?”

  Shelby pats my arm. “You wait here. I’ll bring them to you.”

  After two hours of trying on clothes, I leave the store with a sleeveless dress, black on top with a gorgeous black-and-white flowered design on the skirt. The length is just below my knees, which I insisted on. I also have black, lace panties, a matching strapless bra, and new black shoes.

  In preparation for Saturday night, I had a mani and pedi, plus had my hair done. Consequently, I still have hours until he arrives. I spend some time in a bath, scented with vanilla and lavender. I’ve been told those two fragrances combined are seductive. Though why I’m trying so hard to be sexy and alluring is beyond me. If this turns out to be what I’m guessing it is, it won’t matter how I smell or what I wear.

  Then why are you trying so hard?

  I have no answer.

  I try to read and watch TV, but my mind will not quiet down. At ten to six, I’ve been dressed for two hours and have worn a spot in the carpet in front of the window, pacing. When the buzzer sounds, I jump.

  Instead of letting him come up, only because I’m afraid he’ll end up dumping m
e before we have dinner, I rush downstairs. Damn it all to hell and back. He’s wearing a sport coat, tie, button-down shirt, and dress slacks. He smells like heaven. He’s so damn fucking gorgeous I want to cry.

  “Wow.” The emotion in his voice sounds real enough. He takes a step back and makes a show out of looking me up and down. “Chelsea, that dress is amazing on you. Turn around. Slowly.”

  I’m transported back to the club Saturday night, dizziness and all, each time he asked me to do something. I hate him for doing this to me, but I twirl anyway. Let him get a good look at what he’s giving up.

  “Oh my goodness.” He’s behind me, his hands on my hips, and I’m not able to stop the soft moan. “It’s a good thing you came down instead of opening the door so I could come up, or we’d never make it to dinner.”

  I turn and gaze up into his beautiful dark eyes, wanting his words to be true. “You look incredible, too.”

  “Thank you. Not only for saying that, but for this.”

  “The dress is new.” Why in the fuck did I tell him that?

  “I’m flattered. Are you ready to go?”

  “Yes.”

  Might as well get this over with. Maybe I’ll donate the dress to charity, because I sure as hell won’t be wearing it again.

  Chapter Ten

  That is not his car. No way. But that’s exactly where he leads me. A deep blue Infinity Q60 Sport. The only reason I know the make and model is because one of my coworkers is a car nut. They’re all he talks about. This one must have cost Slade over sixty grand. Where does all his money come from?

  Inside, it’s heaven. Leather seats, a navigation system, and a kickass sound system. He selects a radio station that plays eighties tunes. “This all right?”

  “The music? Yes.”

  “I love just about anything. What kind of music do you enjoy?”

  “Same here. Almost anything will do.” As we pull out into traffic, I turn to face him. “Absolutely none of my business, but what else do you do for a living besides own the club and teach classes once in a while? This car is over sixty thousand dollars.”

  He chuckles softly. “Sixty-five and change. And, it’s absolutely your business to know. Dakar, Asa, and I own an IT consulting firm.”

  Why is it my business? “How you do find the time?”

  “We’re only at the club on weekends and a few evenings each week. The rest of the time we’re at an office downtown.”

  So, he’s a hard worker. Well, so are a lot of people. But I also realize that leaves very little time to date. “Where are we going?”

  “The harbor district.”

  Of course we are, because it’s home to some of the most expensive restaurants in the city, art galleries, and stores that specialize in local crafts. Also, it houses several exclusive boutiques where women like me are uncomfortable.

  “I hope you like seafood.”

  “I love seafood.” I study his profile as he drives. He’s so out of my league it’s not funny. I said that to him Saturday, right before I considered leaving.

  Since I rarely have a reason to visit the harbor district, I switch from watching him to admiring the scenery. The sun is beginning to set over the water, bathing it in pink and gold diamonds.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Can’t argue with him there. The view is stunning.

  “Not as beautiful as you, though.”

  I have no response. I’m too confused to do anything except smile at him. Finally, he pulls into the lot, and I wait for him to open my door before sliding out. It’s the right thing to do at a place like this. I’ve never been here, but I know the restaurant’s reputation. Trendy, upscale, and extremely expensive. My only consolation is that Shelby hit it right on the money as far as my dress. I blend right in.

  Like an actor in a beer commercial, he tosses his car key to the valet attendant. I take his offered arm and try to put on a face that says I belong here.

  Once inside, it’s clear they were expecting him, and also that he’s no stranger here. They call him “Mr. Taylor” and are so obliging I’m almost embarrassed. He takes it in stride, as if he’s earned it. Now that we’re outside the atmosphere of the club, I truly appreciate his dominant side. He’s confident, and expects to be treated a certain way.

  If I got my wish, he’d expect that of me, too. So perhaps it’s best he’s brought me here to tell me there will be no relationship between us, because I’m not sure I’m up to it.

  Liar. Yeah. One look into those eyes and I’d move heaven and earth to be with this man.

  “Have you been here before?”

  I bite my tongue so the laugh doesn’t come out. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I didn’t want to assume.”

  I pick up the menu and nearly pass out from the prices.

  “Will you allow me to order for us?”

  Giving him what I hope is a grateful glance over the top of my menu, I nod. “Yes. Please do. Thank you.”

  “It’s only that I’m a regular here, and I know what is good, and what is only mediocre.” He gives me a wink that suggests we’re already intimate lovers. He might as well plunge his butter knife into my heart.

  As he orders, the mention of those dishes have me salivating before the server brings us glasses of ice water with lemon wedges. I take a long drink, willing myself to calm the fuck down.

  He reaches across the table and takes my hands. “It’s been too long since I’ve been out with a beautiful woman.”

  Okay. That’s it. I don’t want to prolong this any longer. “Slade, why am I here? Why are we out on a date?”

  The flash of disappointment surprises me. “Guess I should have clarified. The same rules apply outside the club.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

  Our server brings a basket of bread that smells freshly made, and our drinks. Slade releases my hands and butters two slices, handing one to me. “It tastes better if you eat it while it’s still warm.”

  “What did you mean about the rules?” As much as I want the bread, it will taste better once I understand what’s going on.”

  His expression is incredulous. “That was a dig on your person.”

  “No, it was a legit question. Yesterday morning, you said seeing anyone outside of that setting was a lot to think about.” He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “I asked you if I’d ever see you again and you told me you weren’t sure.”

  Our gazes lock, and I allow hope to build at the desperation on his face. “I’m sure now.”

  “What?”

  He drops his bread, reaches for my piece and takes it out of my hand, smearing the butter across my palm in the process. “I said I’m sure now.”

  When he takes my hands, the butter on mine doesn’t appear to bother him. Either that, or he never noticed. I squeeze back hard, only so I’m certain this is real.

  “I know I said that. I was there. I remember it. But dammit, Chelsea. I haven’t slept a wink since you left. Every ten minutes I almost called you. I know this is crazy, and I don’t expect you to believe me, but something happened to me Saturday night. Something wonderful, and confusing, and … magical.”

  I’m stunned. There are no words. I’m only dimly aware my mouth is open so I close it.

  “I want to try again. I want to go out with you. I want to be your lover and your Dom. I want you in my life forever. I know that sounds nuts. And I know you don’t know what it means yet to be my submissive, but I will teach you if you want to learn. No expectations for now, other than that one rule about not putting yourself down.”

  “You’re serious.”

  He lets out a half laugh. “Yes, of course I’m serious. You have captivated me, body and soul. I’ve been waiting for a woman like you my entire adult life.”

  Oh my God … he’s not dumping me!

  “But…” But what? So many things. “What if I find I can’t deal with the lifestyle? What if two months from now
you realize I’m not what you wanted?”

  “What if two days from now you’re so sick of me you can’t stand to look at me?”

  This time, I do laugh. “Not possible.”

  That heart-stopping grin I love so much is back. “Then why do you assume any of what you just said is possible for me?”

  There’s no defense. He nailed me.

  “What did you think I meant to tell you tonight?”

  No sense in holding back now. I tell him about my asshole former coworker. “I assumed you invited me here tonight to tell me that there would be no relationship. That we wouldn’t see each other again. That you weren’t interested in dating me.”

  “Oh, Chelsea.” He releases my hands and leans across the table to cup my face. “I really do have my work cut out for me, don’t I?”

  “Yes, you do. Are you sure this is what you want?”

  “I have never been more sure of anything in my life.”

  I cover his hands with mine, wondering how in the hell I will keep from crawling across the table to kiss him into the next galaxy. “My answer is ‘yes,’ to all of it. I’m going to cry. I’m going to scream. I’ve never been this happy.”

  I sound like an idiot, but how can I help that?

  “Oh, thank God. I was afraid you’d say ‘no’.”

  “Not a chance.”

  Our gazes lock. Nothing else exists except his beautiful eyes, and the joy in my heart that fills my body until I’m certain I’ll burst.

  Until someone clears their throat, and we both glance up to find our server standing next to the table, holding our appetizer. After Slade and I release each other, the server places the food in the center of the table. “Is there anything else I can bring right now?”

  “Yes.” I smile. “Can we get this to go?”

  ****

  We decide to stay and eat there. Dinner is delicious, but the jokes we share, and the intimate touches under the table, are divine. We box up more than half of each course and it’s all I can do to keep my hands off him as we drive to my place, which is closer to the restaurant than his.

  We’re upstairs, and he’s peeling off my dress and underwear. I’m careful not to rip his clothes as I tug at them, but I suspect he wouldn’t give a shit if I did. We don’t even make it to my bedroom. He carries me to the sofa and then swears, sprinting back to his jacket to dig out a condom.