Page 9 of Midnight Heat

Damn it, why did I say that? Coffee gives me the runs. I don't drink breakfast beverages. I'm a diet cola kind of girl. Morning, noon, and night. People always give me a hard time for it. But I don't care.

I look behind the bathroom door to see if there's a robe I can use to cover up. Otherwise, I'm going to have to go digging in his drawers. I like to refrain from intimate actions like that, but sometimes, you've got no choice.

I wrap a towel around me and peek out into the bedroom.

"Max, do you have a t-shirt I could borrow?"

"No! Stay naked."

Right. I'm not that confident in my body image to do that. When I was a little girl, I saw a TV show where a woman was parading naked all over her apartment. I asked my mother about it, and she said I could do it. I didn't have the nerve to go around the house like that, but I did try it in our room (we lived with my grandmother), and it felt weird. As an adult, though, I could see the appeal, especially if someone like Max is waiting to feel you up in the next room.

So I open drawers until I find a shirt that works and put it on. It's crisp and clean and I might just take it home with me when I leave. I know, it's a creepy stalker move, but there you have it. I see my panties on the floor, but I don't really want to wear them. Max will probably prefer me sans underwear, anyway. I live to please.

I walk downstairs to the kitchen and find Max fixing breakfast. He only has his boxers on but also an apron that covers his chest. That's good, cause he's frying some bacon.

"Everything smells delicious," I say.

He looks back at me and eyes me hungrily. I don't think we're going to make it through breakfast without an orgasm or two. And maybe I don't want to. Last night, he counted the orgasms. He gave me 12 and was disappointed in himself. I thought being multiorgasmic was a myth. I'm glad to have been proven wrong.

"Help yourself to the coffee. There's cream in the fridge."

I take a cup and pour half a cup of coffee into it, and when I get the creamer, I practically pour the entire thing into my cup. Then, I add some sugar and hope for the best. I take a sip and nod. The creamer is doing its job, and I don't feel the bitterness of the coffee as much.

"Do you want some help?"

He places the bacon on a serving plate and stands in front of me.

"No, kitten. I'm your slave, and I'm here to serve you."

That makes me both smile and blush. It would be wonderful to have this man as a sex slave. To have him cater to my every need. The notion gives me goosebumps.

"You like that, don't you, kitten?"

"Maybe a little."

"Come on, let's fuel up. We need some energy for today's activities." He ushers me to the dining room table, where other plates of food are already set for us to eat.

"You didn't have to do all this for me." Then I frown. "What activities are those, again?"

He butters his toast with a smile on his face. Then takes a big bite out of the bread.

"Oh, there's swimming, showering, chasing."

"Chasing?"

"If I catch you, you win. If I don't, you lose."

"I wouldn't want to lose to you."

"Have you ever swam naked in a swimming pool?" He asks, a twinkle in his eyes.

I hesitate to share, but what the heck? This conversation is fun.

"I… um… might have a fantasy about that."

"Do tell."

"Once I saw this porno, and the girl was floating in the water, and the guy was eating her out. That was one of the most erotic things I've ever seen. I don't know how to work the logistics of it, though."

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