Page 3 of Releasing Reenie

“I’ll walk you down.”

My eyes dropped to his curved lips, knowing what would happen if he walked me down, knowing my defenses were weakened.

“No, that’s okay. Stay, enjoy the rest of the party.” And as if I’d summoned him, Daniel wobbled forward, throwing his arm over Trent’s shoulder, almost knocking them both to the ground. Slipping away before Trent was able to steady Daniel, I made it out of the room unscathed.

I was breathing heavily when my Uber arrived, and not because I’d jogged down three flights of stairs in heels either.

I was trying not to cry. I wanted to go on that date. I wanted to have sex?god, I wanted to have sex. Why couldn’t I just be normal and enjoy a man’s company without needing to control everything? Why couldn’t I be with a man like Trent?

“Too much wine, Maureen. Alcohol makes you feel sorry for yourself.”

“What’s that?” the driver asked.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

CHAPTER 2

Trent

I sat by the window so I’d be able to see her coming, hoping she hadn’t changed her mind. Her demeanor had changed before she left the party and there was a good possibility she’d stand me up.

Maureen Stahlbaum was exactly my type, and also, not my type at all. I thought she was gorgeous of course, how could I not? But there was a confidence about her that I found both sexy and unnerving. I loved a woman who knew what she wanted, but I was attracted to women who took on a submissive role by choice.

Maureen had an air about her that was reminiscent of some of the Dommes I met in clubs. Although sexy, they weren’t who I was attracted to. I needed a submissive woman, or at least one who was submissive in the bedroom. That was non-negotiable. I’d experimented with other dynamics, and I had the self-awareness to know that they didn’t work for me, no matter how amazing the woman had been. Been there. Done That. Bought the t-shirt. Never going back.

No more vanilla women, no more women with the reins held steadfast in their grip, that’s what I’d promised myself. So I probably shouldn’t have asked Maureen out. But that kiss…

Swirling my nearly empty glass of single malt, the ice clinking against the tumbler, I thought more about why I had asked her out. The answer was clear. She was worth the chance of being wrong.

Because an opportunity to be with a woman like Maureen, the kind you didn’t want to mess around or play games with, had to be appreciated and not squandered.

And if she wasn’t for me, if there was the possibility of incompatibility down the road… it would be better to find out now. Maybe not the best topic for a first date, but I needed to be upfront, because if I was lucky enough to get a real chance with Maureen, to get to know her, and touch her and take her, well, losing her would kill me.

I knew that instinctively. So I wouldn’t get close. Not until I knew we could fulfill each other’s needs. But if she could love me for who I was, and be the kind of woman I needed, and I, in turn, what she needed… I was all in.

I took the last sip of my whiskey and turned my head in time to catch a glimpse of Maureen heading toward the front door of the restaurant. Even her profile took my breath away.

She walked with confidence, her shoulders back, her stride purposeful and her gaze straight ahead. Long auburn curls fell halfway down her back, fanning out across her red peacoat. I could almost hear her designer heels clicking on the pavement.

After a few brief words with the hostess, she turned in my direction and I stood. When she saw me, there was a flicker of hesitation. But as quickly as it was there, it was gone, replaced by a dazzling smile. She made her way to our table with a brisk pace and took off her coat before I even had a chance to offer to help.

Too independent for her own good, surely. But too independent for me? That was what I was here to find out.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” she said with a glance at her watch and a furrow of her brow.

“No, not long at all,” I lied. Though she wasn’t late, I’d been there at least a half hour already.

“Okay good,” she replied, glancing at my empty glass. Her smile was tight as if she didn’t quite believe me.

Were we already off to a bad start?

This time I caught her before she sat and pulled out her chair. She nodded with a crisp thank you and I raised a hand for the waitress before I sat down.

“Good holiday so far?”

“Not bad,” I replied, noticing how stiff she was. “Yours?”

Before she could answer, our waitress arrived, and she quickly ordered a Pinot Grigio. I ordered another whiskey on the rocks.

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