is Suzanne’s husband. Thank you for your help.”
~5~
Rachel
One month after my session with David and I’m still feeling great. I’m doing my best to be friendly, with some minor slip-ups, and I’m even trying to train my brain to think happy thoughts about people.
But I cannot shake that I want more.
I think back to the session, trying to understand why I would want to be spanked again. It wasn’t as if I derived pleasure from the spanking. There’s just something about the overall dynamic with David that I can’t stop thinking about. He was so caring and sweet. Yet dominant and stern.
I keep telling myself that he is like that with all of his clients. I know it’s true. He is a professional.
I just wish I had someone in my life like him, that I could be close to. It could even just be a friend, though I long for a strong-minded boyfriend. A man who wouldn’t hesitate to correct me a little if my behavior slipped.
I have been asked out exactly four times in the last year. Two of them were men from work and I promptly shot them down. One was a guy from the gym. I went out with him once and that was that. He was just so… doting . Opening doors is one thing, but it was like every single thing he did was for me. I can’t take that kind of pressure. I already have a team of employees at the office who do the same damn thing.
The fourth guy was one that I actually enjoyed. We chatted in a friendly way and he made me laugh. He was kind without being a pushover. When I suggested we go to a restaurant he didn’t like, he actually told me he didn’t want to. Amazing.
But he never called me back and Samantha, who had hooked us up, didn’t have much to tell me about why.
Sighing heavily and feeling sorry for myself, I debate e-mailing David, asking if it was possible that he is single and if so, would he like to try dinner with me? But I can’t do that to him. I imagine lots of his clients try to hit on him. I don’t want to put him in an awkward position.
I just can’t stop thinking about him.
After work, on a whim, I go to Maddy’s Place. The same young hostess seats me, this time in a booth closer to the front. She doesn’t appear to recognize me and I sneak a quick peek at the bar, ensuring there is indeed a bartender, before ordering a dry martini. No olives.
“And a menu? Want to see one?” she asks.
“Yeah. Sure,” I say. I add a quick, “Thanks,” as I’m continuing my effort to be a kind person.
I don’t know if David comes here often. His family owns it, so the chances of seeing him here are higher than anywhere else I can think of. Besides his house. And I’m not about to stalk the poor guy. The waitress comes back with the menu and I order a veggie burger and sip my drink while I wait. This restaurant is actually a nice place; dark, but not too dark, and the music is low enough that I can still think.
I’m halfway through my meal when I see him. He’s behind the bar. He must have come in through a back entrance since I’d been watching the front door like a hawk. He is chatting with the bartender who does look like a younger version of David. I wonder if they share similar career aspirations.
I take another bite, watching him, hoping he’ll turn to look at me. Will he recognize me? Hell, it’s been an entire month. I debate approaching him but can’t bring myself to do that.
The bartender catches my eye and I turn away, blushing. Shit . When I peek again they are both looking in my direction. Shit, shit! So busted. Then David is there, at the side of the booth, smiling down at me.
“Could’ve e-mailed if you wanted to see me,” he says.
“I’m here for the burgers. I heard they were excellent.” Good cover , I think to myself.
“Oh? And?”
“And what?”
“And how is your burger?” He is still smiling and I wonder what he’s thinking.
“It’s fine. Good.”
“OK. Well, enjoy,” he says.
“Wait!” I say, way too loud. I’m blushing and
~5~
Rachel
One month after my session with David and I’m still feeling great. I’m doing my best to be friendly, with some minor slip-ups, and I’m even trying to train my brain to think happy thoughts about people.
But I cannot shake that I want more.
I think back to the session, trying to understand why I would want to be spanked again. It wasn’t as if I derived pleasure from the spanking. There’s just something about the overall dynamic with David that I can’t stop thinking about. He was so caring and sweet. Yet dominant and stern.
I keep telling myself that he is like that with all of his clients. I know it’s true. He is a professional.
I just wish I had someone in my life like him, that I could be close to. It could even just be a friend, though I long for a strong-minded boyfriend. A man who wouldn’t hesitate to correct me a little if my behavior slipped.
I have been asked out exactly four times in the last year. Two of them were men from work and I promptly shot them down. One was a guy from the gym. I went out with him once and that was that. He was just so… doting . Opening doors is one thing, but it was like every single thing he did was for me. I can’t take that kind of pressure. I already have a team of employees at the office who do the same damn thing.
The fourth guy was one that I actually enjoyed. We chatted in a friendly way and he made me laugh. He was kind without being a pushover. When I suggested we go to a restaurant he didn’t like, he actually told me he didn’t want to. Amazing.
But he never called me back and Samantha, who had hooked us up, didn’t have much to tell me about why.
Sighing heavily and feeling sorry for myself, I debate e-mailing David, asking if it was possible that he is single and if so, would he like to try dinner with me? But I can’t do that to him. I imagine lots of his clients try to hit on him. I don’t want to put him in an awkward position.
I just can’t stop thinking about him.
After work, on a whim, I go to Maddy’s Place. The same young hostess seats me, this time in a booth closer to the front. She doesn’t appear to recognize me and I sneak a quick peek at the bar, ensuring there is indeed a bartender, before ordering a dry martini. No olives.
“And a menu? Want to see one?” she asks.
“Yeah. Sure,” I say. I add a quick, “Thanks,” as I’m continuing my effort to be a kind person.
I don’t know if David comes here often. His family owns it, so the chances of seeing him here are higher than anywhere else I can think of. Besides his house. And I’m not about to stalk the poor guy. The waitress comes back with the menu and I order a veggie burger and sip my drink while I wait. This restaurant is actually a nice place; dark, but not too dark, and the music is low enough that I can still think.
I’m halfway through my meal when I see him. He’s behind the bar. He must have come in through a back entrance since I’d been watching the front door like a hawk. He is chatting with the bartender who does look like a younger version of David. I wonder if they share similar career aspirations.
I take another bite, watching him, hoping he’ll turn to look at me. Will he recognize me? Hell, it’s been an entire month. I debate approaching him but can’t bring myself to do that.
The bartender catches my eye and I turn away, blushing. Shit . When I peek again they are both looking in my direction. Shit, shit! So busted. Then David is there, at the side of the booth, smiling down at me.
“Could’ve e-mailed if you wanted to see me,” he says.
“I’m here for the burgers. I heard they were excellent.” Good cover , I think to myself.
“Oh? And?”
“And what?”
“And how is your burger?” He is still smiling and I wonder what he’s thinking.
“It’s fine. Good.”
“OK. Well, enjoy,” he says.
“Wait!” I say, way too loud. I’m blushing and
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