Page 36 of Submissive Lies

He emphasized the word. There was no mistaking it. A word I knew he understood in the same context I did. Trust. I had no doubt his use of it wasn’t happenstance.

-Of course it wasn’t. He knows what he’s doing. Both of you do.-

I don’t want to assume…

-Oh, for God’s sake. I’m pretty sure you guys are beyond the whole hidden subtext thing by now. Just relax. Let it go. Trust him.-

“I’m… you’re right. Sorry. Bad moment.”

“It’s okay.” His tone was calm, gentle, and along with his smile, it worked to soothe me. “I understand.”

That look was what really did it. It crumbled whatever concern I had been using as a defense to hide behind. The kindness that stared back at me sent a shiver running up my spine, and that gave me the final nudge I needed to do what I’d struggled with all evening.

I gave in.

The last remnants of the wall I had built up—the one I had created as the foundation for the notion that this was ‘just dinner’—I now let fall. I let myself be swept up in what was happening. I let myself trust not only in Steve but also in myself, too.

I leaned in towards him, and he tilted his head so I could whisper into his ear.

“Okay, I have to be honest with you. This place looks amazing! And you…” I lowered my voice even further, my lips nearly brushing against his skin. “Are spoiling the fuck out of me.”

His head came up, and the smile that lit up his face was boyish with delight, and yet lost none of the assertiveness he’d dressed me down with a moment ago. My own smile tugged at me, the look on his face infectious and as ego gratifying as any I could have imagined.

Before he could respond, the receptionist called to us, motioning towards the maître d' who stood waiting nearby.

We slipped through the room, past tables with groups and couples, until we arrived at our own. Steve remained standing while the maître d' pulled out my chair for me. Once we were both seated, the waiter handed us a wine and drink list and waited while we both ordered. Then we were alone.

“I’ll try not to talk about work, but… were you happy with the progress we made today?”

“Yes, very. Thank you.”

“Good. I’m glad. I really wanted to make a good impression.”

“You did.”

The way he smiled at my answer, confident, almost cocky, made it clear that was what he’d wanted to hear. Seeing his response sent another tingle shooting through me.

“I have never actually eaten here before, so I have no idea what’s good.” Steve was looking down at the menu, finger slipping along the edge as he reviewed the selections.

“It all looks wonderful.” The choices were minimalist, but everything in the descriptions sounded incredible.

I scanned for the prices, and that’s when I noticed that dinner was prix fixe. Doing the math in my head it was clear that between us the bill would easily run into triple digits. In any other circumstance, I would have been appalled. But Steve had asked me to trust him.

So, I did.

By now there was one thing I was certain. He didn’t do things without being prepared. He’d done his research on me before I’d even stepped foot inside the booth. Knowing a simple, mundane thing such as how I liked my coffee. It was obvious that he was a planner, and not someone who half-assed things. I’d little doubt now he’d known what this place was going to set him back even before we stepped into the cab.

“Do you know what you’d like?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.” The way he said it was a command. Not harsh, but firm, nonetheless. Given my current mindset I was already inclined towards obedience. His gaze never wavered as he waited patiently for my response.

“For dinner I’d like the squab with the butternut squash, please.”

“Anything else?”

“No. That will be fine.”

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