doing, taking another step closer to meeting this somewhat dour, harsh man?
29
She knew precisely where this path was leading – to his bed.
Seven on the dot, the cell phone rang.
What if he sounded like Mickey Mouse? What if he was pulling a Cyrano and someone else had been writing his missives? What if he was a psycho stalker-type and he somehow found out who she was and where she lived?
She answered it on the fourth ring, just before it was set to click over to voice mail. “Hello?”
“May I please speak to Elizabeth?”
His voice was just as she’d imagined – deep and dark like good, hot fudge. “This is she.”
“Elizabeth, this is Simon. It’s very nice to talk to you.”
She cleared her throat in a nervous habit he wouldn’t recognize. “It’s nice to talk to you, too.”
“Were you away from the phone?”
The man noticed everything. “No, I was right next to it,” she replied tellingly.
“Couldn’t decide whether or not you wanted to answer it?” There was an almost smile in his voice.
Maura flushed, glad he couldn’t see her. “Uh, yeah, something like that.”
“I shall endeavor to make you feel more comfortable.”
Maura chuckled. She couldn’t help it. She knew he was trying to help ease her nervousness, but it came out just the way she’d come to expect from him – stolid and serious.
“Did I say something amusing?”
That only made her laugh more. “Ahhhhh, Simon. You are exactly as you presented yourself in your letters and chat, aren’t you?”
“Depends,” he answered cautiously. He liked the sound of her laughter, and how readily she did it. That was not his nature, but he admired it in others. “Is that good, or bad?”
Another giggle. “It’s neither. It’s just you.”
“I think I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Still obviously smiling, “You go right ahead.”
“Thank you for answering, by the way,” solemn and somber.
“You’re welcome. I had to - my curiosity got the better of me.”
“Mmmmm. So you’re the curious sort, are you?”
“On occasion.”
“I’ll have to remember that.”
“Somehow, I don’t think that there’s much that gets by you, regardless.”
A soft, almost soundless chuckle. “You’re probably right. I can’t help it. Too much time in the military, among other things.”
“That would do it, I would think.”
“How goes your writing?”
“Fine – how goes your consulting?”
“Fine.”
“Well, we’re just scintillating, aren’t we?” she commented wryly.
Simon smiled, but then she couldn’t see it. “Did you take my advice and look into some online universities?” he asked.
He’d never gotten off the kick of trying to get her to go back to school, which she staunchly held that she had no interest in doing.
“No.”
“Well, that was short and sweet. Why not?” he shot back.
“Because I don’t wanna.”
Nothing. Silence . . . an uncomfortably long silence, then in a grumbling timbre that made Maura melt with its quiet command, “Is that a pout I’m hearing?”
30
Sometimes she could fall into “submissive mode” very quickly and easily, sometimes she fought it.
More often than not, she fought it. “Yes . . . Sir.” Somehow, it sounded very right to call him “Sir.”
He didn’t immediately acknowledge her use of that respectful term. “I don’t like pouting.”
“Yes, Sir.” Was that her sounding so unusually meek and mild?
“Elizabeth?”
“Yes?”
“I’m going to tell you to do something, and you, of course, have free will as to whether or not you do it. We have not discussed where our relationship – such as it is - is going, but, as far as I’m concerned, if you do what I tell you to do this time, I will consider that as a sign that you are amenable to submitting to me in other ways and in other . . . matters.”
“And what do you want me to do, dare I ask?” Maura figured it was going to be something sexual
– to describe to him what she
29
She knew precisely where this path was leading – to his bed.
Seven on the dot, the cell phone rang.
What if he sounded like Mickey Mouse? What if he was pulling a Cyrano and someone else had been writing his missives? What if he was a psycho stalker-type and he somehow found out who she was and where she lived?
She answered it on the fourth ring, just before it was set to click over to voice mail. “Hello?”
“May I please speak to Elizabeth?”
His voice was just as she’d imagined – deep and dark like good, hot fudge. “This is she.”
“Elizabeth, this is Simon. It’s very nice to talk to you.”
She cleared her throat in a nervous habit he wouldn’t recognize. “It’s nice to talk to you, too.”
“Were you away from the phone?”
The man noticed everything. “No, I was right next to it,” she replied tellingly.
“Couldn’t decide whether or not you wanted to answer it?” There was an almost smile in his voice.
Maura flushed, glad he couldn’t see her. “Uh, yeah, something like that.”
“I shall endeavor to make you feel more comfortable.”
Maura chuckled. She couldn’t help it. She knew he was trying to help ease her nervousness, but it came out just the way she’d come to expect from him – stolid and serious.
“Did I say something amusing?”
That only made her laugh more. “Ahhhhh, Simon. You are exactly as you presented yourself in your letters and chat, aren’t you?”
“Depends,” he answered cautiously. He liked the sound of her laughter, and how readily she did it. That was not his nature, but he admired it in others. “Is that good, or bad?”
Another giggle. “It’s neither. It’s just you.”
“I think I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Still obviously smiling, “You go right ahead.”
“Thank you for answering, by the way,” solemn and somber.
“You’re welcome. I had to - my curiosity got the better of me.”
“Mmmmm. So you’re the curious sort, are you?”
“On occasion.”
“I’ll have to remember that.”
“Somehow, I don’t think that there’s much that gets by you, regardless.”
A soft, almost soundless chuckle. “You’re probably right. I can’t help it. Too much time in the military, among other things.”
“That would do it, I would think.”
“How goes your writing?”
“Fine – how goes your consulting?”
“Fine.”
“Well, we’re just scintillating, aren’t we?” she commented wryly.
Simon smiled, but then she couldn’t see it. “Did you take my advice and look into some online universities?” he asked.
He’d never gotten off the kick of trying to get her to go back to school, which she staunchly held that she had no interest in doing.
“No.”
“Well, that was short and sweet. Why not?” he shot back.
“Because I don’t wanna.”
Nothing. Silence . . . an uncomfortably long silence, then in a grumbling timbre that made Maura melt with its quiet command, “Is that a pout I’m hearing?”
30
Sometimes she could fall into “submissive mode” very quickly and easily, sometimes she fought it.
More often than not, she fought it. “Yes . . . Sir.” Somehow, it sounded very right to call him “Sir.”
He didn’t immediately acknowledge her use of that respectful term. “I don’t like pouting.”
“Yes, Sir.” Was that her sounding so unusually meek and mild?
“Elizabeth?”
“Yes?”
“I’m going to tell you to do something, and you, of course, have free will as to whether or not you do it. We have not discussed where our relationship – such as it is - is going, but, as far as I’m concerned, if you do what I tell you to do this time, I will consider that as a sign that you are amenable to submitting to me in other ways and in other . . . matters.”
“And what do you want me to do, dare I ask?” Maura figured it was going to be something sexual
– to describe to him what she
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