Surrender: Guilty Pleasures #1 (BBW Erotic Romance) (2 page)

Same old face; green eyes,
shoulder length blonde hair. No wrinkles, yet. Pulling my hair up, away from my
face, I toy once again with the idea of cutting it short. But I’d had a pixie
hair cut in grade school and the memories of being mistaken for a boy still
haunted me. I let it go, watching as it tumbled down around my shoulders.
You’re
safe from scissors once again.

Dressed in my nightgown and robe,
I walked past my office. The desk light is on, the laptop dimmed but still
powered up. I hit the touchpad and the screen brightened. The page for
Collar
Me
is still open, right where I left it. And blinking in the upper left
corner is a tiny red envelope icon; someone had sent me a message. I swallowed
hard.

I pulled my office chair closer,
hesitating just a moment before clicking the icon. The messages—there’s
more than one—opened on my screen, and I held my breath as I read through
them. The first one was so disgusting I deleted it before I even finished
reading the first sentence.

The next message was pretty
bland, but the photo enclosed was of a man wearing a wig, fishnet stockings and
not much more.
Um….not what I was looking for.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good
idea. I clicked on the last brief message, thankfully with no additional photo
included.

To: Venus247
From: Dom Meyers

‘Hello Venus247,

I saw your profile tonight and
it interested me a great deal. If you’d like to chat, please reply. I’m new to
this site, and new to the BDSM world as well. I get the sense you are too.

 “Oh, holy shit.” I clicked
on the link to his profile. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but
I wasn’t sure why; he wasn’t a client at least. His profile listed his height
at 6’ 3”, with black hair and blue eyes.
Oh, blue eyes and tall. So far, so
good.

He had several photos available in
his profile, all highlighting his chiseled face and those impossibly blue eyes.
The first was of him in a tight black t-shirt and low-slung jeans, leaning
against a wall. He looked lean and rangy, not skinny, but not all big muscles.
As much as I like husky guys, his body was very appealing to me. And I
certainly liked the way he looked in his jeans.

But the next photo I opened took
my breath away. He was looking directly into the camera, blue eyes so piercing
they seemed almost unreal. His dark hair was just messy enough to keep it from
looking too perfect. The smile undid me though; boyish and charming, but with a
hint of something dark lurking around the edges.
No innocent boy here at
all; that’s a real man behind those good looks.

At first glance, he was almost
pin-up pretty, but there was an edge to all that prettiness that made me
suspect being dominant would be quite enjoyable for him. I could imagine him
shirtless, barefoot, wearing the tattered jeans Christian Grey had worn—and
nothing else—wielding a whip, while I was restrained, naked, begging him
to use it on me, again…and again.

I realized I was breathing heavy,
my heart pounding, my palms damp.
Holy shit, just from a photo?

And no fishnet stockings or no
women’s wigs in evidence in any of the photos, thank God. And below his photo
was a line of green text: Member Is Online Now.

 “I’ll be damned.” I went
back to his message, read it again. Nothing offensive, he seemed normal so far.
It took a long time for me to decide what to say. Finally I just said I was
interested in chatting. I hit send.

Almost instantly Mr. Meyers
replied back.

To: Miss Venus
From: Dom Meyers

Hi Venus,

Thank you for replying back.
I’m really glad you did. To be honest, I was beginning to think I’d made a
mistake in joining this site. While I know BDSM is not the norm, some of the
replies I’ve gotten had me a little spooked.

Tell me a little about
yourself and let’s see if we have anything in common.

(And my name is Jake…)

***

For the first time in years, I
was late to work. It had been well past two o’clock in the morning when Jake
and I had finally said good-night. His final message had kept me awake for a
long time after we went off line; he’d asked if I wanted to meet in person.

Leslie finally called to remind
me of our lunch plans. I’d spent the morning in a daze, robotically working
through my emails and other tasks, going over in my head the conversations with
Jake. Leslie said to meet her in the lobby of the building; we could walk around
the corner to the Italian deli for a roast beef sandwich.

“So, what’s up with you today, Abby?
You’re a million miles away.” We were in line, waiting to place our order.
Leslie was making eyes at the counterman, like she always did. I usually teased
her, claiming she only flirted to get extra sautéed mushrooms on her sandwich
for free. But not today.

“I did something last night.” I
wasn’t sure how to explain this. “I signed up on a dating site.”

Leslie rolled her eyes. “You’re
kidding. Again? Which one this time?” We were at the counter. I placed my
order, paid up, grabbed my soda and moved out of the line to grab a table. I
heard Leslie rattle off her order and then she was right behind me, practically
stepping on my heels so she could pry the gory details out of me.

“Okay. Spill the story. What have
you done?” She took a sip of her San Pellegrino.

“Promise you won’t say anything
until I’m finished, okay?” Leslie nodded.

I took a deep breath. “I
registered on a BDSM website. I met a man on the site and we chatted most of
the night.” Leslie was watching me, her mouth open, totally shocked.

“He’s asked to meet me in
person.” I hesitated. “And I think I’m going to agree to meet him.”

Leslie was silent for a long
time, staring at me. “You are nuts. A BDSM site? Since when do you like pain?”
She sat back suddenly. “It’s those damn books, isn’t it?”

“It’s hard to explain, I guess.
There something there that intrigues me. Not so much the pain, or not only the
pain. But the whole control thing, giving up control to someone else in return
for pleasure. It’s confusing, but it’s something that I want to try.”

Leslie shook her head. Our
sandwiches arrived and we were quiet for a minute, trying to divide and conquer
the behemoth sandwiches. We chewed in silence for a while when she finally
spoke.

“You know I love you, Abby, but
I’ve got to say, I think you’re making a big mistake.” She looked at me, her
brown eyes serious. “But I know you, when you get something stuck in your mind,
there’s no talking you out of it.”

I laughed. Leslie knew me better
than I knew myself sometimes.

“So, now who is this mystery
bondage guy? What’s he look like? Does he have a name?” Leslie finally gave in
and attacked her sandwich with a fork, winding sticky globs of mozzarella
cheese like spaghetti around the tines.

“Well, he’s over six feet, black
hair, blue eyes….” Leslie grunted through a mouthful of sandwich. “…on the lean
side. Not skinny, but wiry, maybe? Hard to tell in the picture, but not a
really muscular guy. Nice looking. His name’s Jake.”

“Jake. Hmm, so you’re going to
really do this?”

I nodded, wrapping up my sandwich
in its paper. Suddenly I was nervous, my stomach fluttering. I took a deep
breath.

“Yeah, I really am.”

***

When I got home, I immediately
opened up my laptop, clicking on the website. There was a message from Jake
waiting for me. I opened it gingerly, almost as if it were a ticking bomb.
Somehow, safe in the darkness last night, lit only by the screen on my laptop,
it had all seemed exciting and fun; in the harsh light of the fading afternoon
Texas sun, it seemed silly and scary.
What the hell am I doing?

It reminded me I hadn’t given him
an answer to his question: if I’d like to meet in person. I took a deep breath,
clicking the message icon.

To: Miss Venus
From: Dom Meyers

Hi Abby,

I enjoyed talking to you last
night; I hope you did as well. I don’t want to rush you into meeting in person;
I’m willing to let you make that decision. But I think we really have a
connection. So, the ball is in your court (although I’m rushing the net).

Jake

I put the cursor in the reply
box, watching it blink. Closing my eyes, I typed ‘Yes, I’d like to meet you
too.’ I looked at the words on the screen and then, before I could change my
mind, I clicked send.

My first reaction was to close
the laptop and leave the room, but that was foolish. It was also foolish to
watch the laptop screen, waiting for a reply. It brought back uncomfortable
high school memories of sitting by the phone on a Saturday night, waiting for
it to ring.

I was just pushing myself away
from the desk when the soft chime of an incoming message sounded. The little
red envelope was flashing. I clicked on the icon and a message from Jake opened
on the screen.

Hi Abby,

I’d put a smiley face emoticon
here, but I’m technically challenged when it comes to things like that. So I’ll
just say that I’m very happy you’ve agreed to meet me. How about Georgia’s? If
you’re free tonight, how about a drink, say, 8:00? Just casual, nothing too
intense.

Jake

I knew the place; it was upscale,
nice…some place I’d driven by but never been inside of. And tonight.
Go…do
it. Either you’ll enjoy yourself, or you’ll get it over with and be done with
this.

Hi Jake,

Georgia’s sounds fine and so
does 8:00. I’ll see you then.

Abby

*
* *

The bedroom was a mess, clothes
strewn everywhere. I’d taken a shower, tried to eat something, gave up on that
and then tried to decide on something wear. ‘Something casual’ may be easy for
him to say, but it sent me into a panic. I resisted the urge to call Leslie,
simply because she would tell me I was crazy.

Finally I decided on a black silk
tank and jacket and a pair of dark jeans. I added my favorite heeled boots,
happy I could wear the four inch heels and not tower over Jake.

Hair was another issue. I brushed
it out, put it up, curled it, brushed it out…and finally just let it curl
around my shoulders. Jewelry was easier; black onyx bracelet and earrings, an
assortment of silver chains and I called the outfit complete.

The only sure thing was the
perfume; I splurge on a custom blend containing something called Dragon’s
Blood. It’s exotic, indescribably floral and absolutely wonderful. I dabbed it
behind my ears, at the base of my throat and my wrists…and for good measure, my
cleavage. Just the scent alone makes me feel confident and beautiful. Hopefully
it would have a positive effect on Jake.

As luck would have it, I was late
to Georgia’s. Traffic was snarled and by the time I parked, I was fifteen
minutes late and growing flustered. I pulled open the door, the sounds of the
bar spilling out into the cool night air, and slipped inside. I scanned the
bar, looking for a tall man in a white t-shirt, which Jake said he’d be
wearing.

My heart sank. There was no one
there in a white shirt.
Great. I make the commitment and I miss him by
minutes.

I was turning to leave when I
felt a firm hand on my elbow. Startled, I turned, looking up into the bluest
eyes I’d ever seen.

“Hi, Abby.”

His voice was low, but clear,
husky without being raspy. I don’t think I’d ever heard my name sound quite so
beautiful. I started up at him.

“Sorry to startle you. I met
someone I knew at the other end of the bar. It took me a minute to get away.” I
continued to stare, unable to speak.

Speak, Abby. Drop the deer in
the headlights act.
I shook myself out of my embarrassing trance.

“Hi, Jake. Sorry, but you did
catch me a little off guard. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“No, not at all. Come on, there’s
more room in the back; it’s not so crowded there. We can find a private
banquette.”

Jake continued to gently hold my
arm, steering me with easy grace through the crowd. The long mahogany bar was crowded
with a loud mix of young business professionals, but as we made our way through
the brick archway into the depths of the room, the crowd thinned out. Jake
found a small banquette in the quiet back room. As I slid onto the black
leather, Jake asked what I’d like to drink, disappeared towards the bar, and
soon returned with a glass of Chardonnay for me and what looked like a glass of
bourbon for himself.

“It’s domestic. I hope that’s
okay with you?” He looked at me expectantly as he set the glass on the small
table.

“I’m sure it will be fine.”
I’m
way out of my league here.

I took a tentative sip. I’d been
far too nervous to eat dinner and now was afraid any alcohol I drank would go
straight to my head. But the wine was excellent and I took a larger swallow,
the soft warmth of the wine spreading through my body, quelling the butterflies
in my stomach.

Georgia’s is large but still
manages to seem intimate. The brick covered walls, Oriental patterned carpet
and soft lighting conspire to make it cozy, even though the place was packed.
We sipped our drinks in silence for a few minutes, watching the crowd as it
ebbed and flowed past us. I realized there was still more rooms beyond where we
sat; peering past Jake I saw through another series of arches several pool
tables, each glowing green beneath its own set of lights.

Once we started talking though, the
nerves faded away. Jake put me at ease almost instantly, avoiding the usual
litany of first encounter questions: where are you from, what do you do, read
any good books lately? He told stories, good stories. I found myself laughing
more than I thought I would. Jake had a good sense of humor, gently poking fun
at himself as he told stories about growing up on a ranch in Texas.