Roseann Discovers Dominance Pt 07

RoseAnn Discovers Dominance

Wgaius

Chapter 7

The rest of Monday passed without a word, and then Tuesday came and I grew impatient. But about eleven a.m., I was watching TV when the phone rang.

"It's Craig. Do you want to meet for lunch?"

"Hm. Let me consult my appointments secretary." I paused for the count of three. "Yep. Looks like I have a cancellation."

We agreed to meet at Bernie's Grill. That would work for me, since after Craig went back to the university, the boss would let me start my shift right away. He was always short-staffed in the afternoon quiet time, when tips were sparse.

I dressed in a blouse that showed plenty of cleavage. and left for Bernie's right away. I corralled a small table near the back. Even so, one of my regular customers spotted me and came over.

"Working the lunchtime shift now, RoseAnn?" His eyes were drawn instantly to the V of my blouse.

"I'm meeting a friend."

"Who's the lucky man?" he said to my breasts.

"Did I say it was a man?"

He chuckled. "You're dressed for a date. Of course, it's a man."

"My daddy says I'm old enough to date now," I said. He grinned and let one of the lunchtime waitresses seat him.

Craig showed up precisely on time, which was surprising, considering the vagaries of the El schedule and lunchtime traffic. Most likely, he arrived early and waited somewhere until it was time to show. At least he didn't keep me waiting.

We looked at one another, me seated and him standing. I think we both expected a welcome kiss, but were unsure in the place where I worked. But I was surprised and pleased when he took my hand and kissed it. I spotted Candy watching from the kitchen doors and whispering over her shoulder to the cook.

"It wasn't easy waiting until today to call," he said.

"You didn't have to wait, you know. It's not like we're a couple of nervous teenagers."

He smiled. "No, we're a couple of nervous adults."

"Thank you for the flowers. They were very beautiful."

He blushed, just as Candy came to the table. "Rosie, you gonna introduce me to your friend?"

"This is Dr. Craig Warburton, Candy. Craig, this is Candy Barton. She and I have been pals since grade school."

"Pleasetameetcha," she said, curtseying awkwardly, clowning around.

"You can tell we didn't come from a very refined background," I said. "One of the old strip-mining towns downstate. Bitumen." I waited for Craig to react as I revealed my bumpkin background, but he didn't seem to notice.

Candy poured coffee and took our orders for hot sandwiches and coleslaw.

"I actually had a reason to come here," he said. "I mean, other than to see you again."

I arched an eyebrow.

"Have you ever been to the opera?"

I pursed my lips and grinned. "You just heard me confess that I'm from Bitumen. We don't have an opera there. In fact, the only thing we have that looks like culture are school plays and the church choir competitions. The parents like to brawl during Little League games, too, but I don't know if any of that qualifies as 'culture'."

He smiled. "Have you ever seen

Madame Butterfly

?"

"Nope, but I heard the story. At the end, she guts herself like a catfish after singing about what a beautiful day it is." I laughed. "See? I'm not a complete redneck."

"My point is, do you want to go with me this Sunday?"

"Well, my shift runs..." I was scheduled to work until nine p.m. Sunday, but this could be my future at stake. "Oh, what the hell. Yes, I'll go with you on Sunday. Someone will cover my shift. Some of the girls owe me favors, and the boss likes me."

"You know how people dress for the Lyric Opera, right? Do you have a formal gown or anything like it?"

"Well, I've got my old prom dress. I still fit in it, but I guess it'll look a little teenaged on me by now. But I've got time to shop before then."

He took a business card from his pocket. "Just in case, I called an old friend who's in the women's fashion business. Just go see him and tell him your name. He'll get you all fitted out."

"Craig, I'm living one meal at a time on a waitress' earnings. I don't even have a bank account."

"I didn't make myself clear. Will you let me dress you up? I want everyone to see what a beauty I'm bringing with me."

I guess I seemed indignant at this point, and he explained quickly, "A lot of men dress up their wives and girlfriends for the opera. Many of the couples are ordinary working people like you and me, but the Lyric is the one chance to dress up and pretend we're high society folks. It's a game, and the high scores go to the most elegant dresses and the most beautiful women."

He went on to explain that most opera-goers keep the same seats year after year, and you get on a first-name basis with some. "So far, I've gone with male friends or one of the other professors in my department. I've sat with men so often, the others are starting to wonder about me."

I made a big smile. "I'll tell them what a real man you are." He beamed at that, as if it were something he had on his mind that had to be resolved.

"Come with me," I said, standing up. I led him to the rear service door, whispering to Candy, "I'm just showing Craig the conference room."

The 'conference room' was a windowless room where extra chairs and dishes were stored, along with mops and disinfectants. I led Craig inside, shut the door, and turned the light off. He needed no prompting, and began to kiss me frantically, as if we were about to be pulled apart and separated forever. In the darkness, his hot breath scalded my throat and neck.

Aroused, I reached down and gripped his cock through his slacks. It was erect, as I expected. "Oh, my God," he gasped. "Be careful or I'll come in my pants."

I let go. "So soon? You're not one of those men on a hair trigger, are you? The ones that go off before they even get inside?"

"Not normally, but I've been fantasizing about you since Sunday. Since before Sunday, to tell the truth. I'd love the chance to kiss you there again."

I turned away, laughing. "No, not here and not now. I work here, for crying out loud!"

"Please?" The whisper was the more pitiful coming from the darkness.

I felt the awful sadness in his voice, and melted. "Okay, then. Sunday night after the opera. How about that? Back at your place. You can have your way with me then."

Well, how about that? I've promised to let him go down on me again. I hadn't even made up my mind for sure, but now I'm committed.

"You're condemning me to six days in the hottest part of Frustration Hell. You do understand that, right?"

I smiled into the darkness. "I guess that's a privilege women have. We can wait. Men can't." But I felt a little thrill in my pussy. This was

fun

. I was teasing him, and enjoying it. I gave him another kiss, with just a bit of tongue, before we returned to find our meals waiting on the table.

* * *

Next morning, I went to see Craig's dressmaker friend. Harley Moss barely came up to my shoulders, and wore his black hair slicked back. He had a habit of clasping his fingers together, and spoke with a lilt. I assumed he was queer, or 'gay', as they were calling it now.

"Dr. Warburton said you might be coming." He giggled quietly. "He didn't warn me what a beautiful woman I'd be meeting. And so tall! Tall women are a joy to dress." He led me by the hand into the back of the shop, where he stood me in front of a three-sided mirror. "I'm going to love getting you ready to meet your public."

He studied me for a moment and asked, "Are those heels the ones you intend to wear on Sunday?"

I nodded yes. "But we're only going to the opera," I said.

He giggled again, and I guessed I could tire of that pretty quickly. "Miss Perez, no one

only

goes to the opera. You go to see and be seen, to become part of Chicago society. I hear you're going to see

Madame Butterfly

?"

"Um, yes."

"I can't watch it anymore. I just burst into tears at the end.

Un Bel Di

is so beautiful and the ending so sad. Mr. Puccini couldn't have written that unless he'd suffered the tragedy of lost love, too."

"I guess not." I didn't know what

Un Bel Di

meant.

He abruptly brightened. "But enough about me and Puccini. Turn around for me slowly." He rubbed his chin as I rotated for him, pivoting on my three-inch heels. He twirled his finger in the air to indicate that I should keep turning.

Finally, he said okay and I stopped. "Problem with you, Miss Perez, is that everything about you commands attention. I mean, some women have nice legs and a small bust, so I can hide the bust with ruffles and emphasize the legs. That's where the art comes in. But every part of you deserves emphasis." He nodded, apparently to himself. "You're a perfect candidate for a short black dress with lots of up-top exposure. That's too bad. For the Lyric, it's got to be long and demure. But black is definitely your color"

"Up-top what?" I asked, but Harley Moss had already pulled out a cloth tape and, in less than twenty seconds, took several measurements of me, including bust and hips, without actually touching me. Then he disappeared into racks of dresses, and came out with a long black gown on a hanger.

"Try this on." He held it out to me. "Don't worry if it doesn't fit perfectly. We'll take care of that." He pointed toward a fitting room.

It was loose around the hips and pulled up tight under the arms. Harley Moss hummed to himself, mouth full of pins, as he went around and around me, pinning here, moving a pin there. I was startled at first when the backs of his fingers brushed my breasts as he adjusted the fabric. But what interest would a gay man have in me? Every so often, he stood back and cocked his head back and forth, his lips pursed, as he studied me.

"Exquisite," he exclaimed, and waved me over to the mirror.

I was astonished. The neckline was just low enough to show substantial cleavage without being trashy. The ruffled hem showed my ankles and heels, but not much more. But on the left side it featured a slit that rose to my hips. I moved my leg so it was exposed.

"It's a crime to have to conceal those legs." He shook his head regretfully. "The opera is the opera, but I did the best I could to tease. It'll serve them right."

"I like it," I said, breathless. "A little daring, but I like it."

When I returned on Thursday morning for the final fitting, I felt comfortable in shedding the dress in front of the little gay man so he could make minor adjustments. It took two hours. At one point, without warning, he reached right into the collar to shift a breast an inch to one side.

Just as we were finishing, I noticed that he had an erection.