Page 42 of Submissive Lies

TEN

Desired.

Craved.

Most of us hunger to be longed for like that. It’s a universal feeling. And though we may rail against being objectified, when we are in the company of someone who we desire, and we see that desire mirrored back, it is an incredibly powerful feeling. It empowers us, affirms us, and wipes away the demons of self-doubt we can all fall prey to. Desire is the yin to the yang of affection.

Now, as we sat waiting for the waiter to return, Steve’s gaze spoke to me of both those things. The passionate look he gave sent little jolts of excitement shooting across my nerves, the buzz of anticipation making me edgy as he studied me from across the table. All pretense gone now, Steve did nothing to conceal his hunger, hand moving in a slow pattern along his chin.

It was those unknown thoughts he kept hidden behind those slow-moving fingers, his eyes ablaze, that I was eager to discover. The last act of this dinner was playing out and I dived into the deep end of my desire, thoughts of what awaited me fueling cravings I hadn’t felt in a long time. And I felt no shame in it.

The dessert came, and we shared it in silence. And though the words between us were few, what we did share across the table bordered on telepathic. When I reached for another bite and my spoon touched his, the contact was electrical, as if both implements held a charge only released when the separation between us linked. As we ate I replayed our conversations in my head, and two thoughts kept coming forward. In terms of ‘us’, Steve wasn’t thinking beyond tonight, the same as I. He wanted to take me back to the hotel, and he wanted to fuck. Crude as that may sound, it really was as simple as that. And if this was going to be nothing more than a one-night stand, it was contingent on neither of us being involved with someone.

At least on the face of it. As far as we were willing to tell each other.

As I was mulling all that over in my head, I realized there was one final piece of the puzzle I needed to fit into place. For me, there was still one thing that could bring all this crashing to a halt. I’d answered Steve’s question of whether I was involved with anyone when he’d asked me. Even though I’d technically lied because in eight hours—nine now—Thomas still hadn’t returned any of my texts or call, it wasn’t because I hadn’t tried. I’d tried, and I knew exactly what I would tell him when he finally did get in touch with me. To me, the finality of that was enough, even if Thomas was prolonging it by acting out the way he was. Whatever reasoning he had to justify that I didn’t know, but this was squarely on him now.

Which brought me back to Steve. I’d answered his question but hadn’t asked him the same one in return. That’s what I needed to hear. I needed to hear Steve’s answer, yes or no. If he said yes, that would finish this right now. Put an end to the perfect dream this evening had become. And if he said no…

“You asked me a question earlier that I need to ask you in return.”

Steve pursed his lips, head cocked to the side.

“Are you involved with anyone right now?”

His eyes narrowed, a knife edge crease forming between them. Where a moment ago the way he’d regarded me had made me flushed, now a chill filled the space between us. As this evening had gone on, I had slipped into submissive patterns because I loved the feelings that doing so invoked in me. The responses that engaging in the simplest of those things produced in the Dom who sat across from was a heady thrill. One I latched onto with the eagerness of a junkie. I longed for it to continue, to give into it even more, but right now the question I had just posed to him pulled me out of that mindset, turning me stone-cold sober. It had to. The answer to that question could put an end to all of this, and I needed to hear his response without being mush-minded with lust, desire, all those emotions that I was so ready to give into.

His eyes continued to bore into me. He was not frowning or smiling, but his eyes had an air of cold efficiency that for the moment seemed less to reflect the light of the room than absorb it. That his answer hadn’t been immediate, unequivocal, had tendrils of fear creeping up my spine.

“I think you know the answer to that, Jen.”

I closed my eyes for a second, pursing my lips. Okay, that was an answer, and his voice made me want to believe. I wanted desperately to have faith that my hopes and suspicions were true. However, a stubborn part of me wouldn’t let it go at that. I needed to hear the words.

“I do. Really, I do. But…” I pressed my lips together hard, trying not to let my voice belie any fear, or emotion.

Just be cool and collected. Just ask him, Jen…

“Please don’t ask me to explain. I just need to hear you say it.”

Steve scrutinized me, and a small frown pulled the corners of his mouth down. His jaw set, the fingers of one hand splayed out, then slowly clenched together.

He wasn’t happy about this questioning of trust, that was clear in every inch of his body language. I couldn’t help that. I had run through so many scenarios in my head since this morning. So many thoughts, fears, insecurities, and anxieties, all of which had concluded that afternoon in my grand epiphany. The self-loathing monkey on my back be damned, it had reached this moment of culmination. Here. Now. And all I needed, all I swore I wanted right at this moment was one final affirmation, a final signature on the dotted line.

“Please.” I did not plead. I did not beg. I kept my voice firm, poised. Strong.

Say something. Please.

Words. I needed to hear his words.

For a second Steve did something he’d rarely done this entire evening; he broke eye contact with me and glanced down at the table. That act gave me a slight jolt.

Oh, God, I was wrong. He is with someone. He’s trying to find the words to tell me, to explain that he doesn’t believe in limiting himself and his partners to societal constraints…

The next second his eyes came back up, locking back onto mine. His frown, the look of displeasure, all of it was gone. Whatever had gone on inside his head, he’d come to some conclusion, because the look he gave now was the same as the one he had earlier this evening. It was an assertive look, and yet one that contained a vestige of sympathy at the same time. It was a look that was little different from those which had done such a damn good job of shattering and cracking the foundation of the wall I had built up.

“No, Jen.” He reached across the table and his hand took mine, clasping it. “No. I am not involved with anyone right now. That is not who I am. And I need you to trust me on that.”

And I was gone.

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