Sometimes you just have a feeling...
It was the second time they had met. She sat across the small 2-top from him at the restaurant thinking about that feeling. She was having it again. It felt nice. She was learning to trust it. The feeling was a combination of confidence and excitement mixed with a little vulnerability. The vulnerability was like the wasabi in the soy. It heated her spirit, mind, and especially in her body. When she felt she could be vulnerable with someone her body responded. It wasn't rational, but she was learning that it was not wrong.
He had that vibe that made her know she could let him take control -- he would absolutely TAKE control of her, all of her, in the way that made her feel complete. Her body was responding already and she was willing to bet he could tell. She knew her nipples were getting hard and her stomach was tightening. She could tell her pussy was wet and her clit was swelling with desire.
Could he?
Could he tell all this by looking at her? She imagined he could. His eyes noticed things. His eyes saw her in ways few men ever had. They had met online. He had emailed her, very politely and professionally, asking her to connect him with a friend of hers that he needed to talk to about a project. She had been willing to help. The project went well and he said he owed her one. That one had been a quick drink in the bar at his hotel. She lived about an hour away from the hotel, but had happened to be in town on a day he was there, so she'd agreed to meet. It was a public place, limited time, and he didn't give the creep vibe. She knew all about creeps.
She'd had a bit of the feeling during their first minutes together. He had been friendly and was somehow able to get her to open up a bit more about herself than she had intended. He seemed interested in her life and experiences. Most men she met were only interested in her body. She had done some modeling and was naturally proportioned. He looked in her eyes. He gave her a nice small piece of art as a thank-you gift. They talked for about a half hour (because she'd been delayed in traffic), and then they both had to go. Her to a modeling gig for some artists and he out for dinner with clients. When he touched her it was in no way inappropriate, but it was intentional. Her vulnerability was touched at the instant their skin connected. She knew what he could do with her if she let him. At that moment, her imagination was sparked. She had the feeling. It had been growing stronger.
It had taken a while, 2 or 3 months, before their schedules allowed this second meeting. Dinner this time. Not so public. Not so controlled by time. Not so safe. Now her pussy was wanting attention. She wanted to touch her clit, but she knew he would notice that for sure. She could tell he was attracted to her. All straight men were attracted to her, but he was wasn't hitting on her. Damn, he had some control. She wanted him to take control of her at the same time he let go of that control on himself. Her nipples were hard. He was asking her about her business ideas and giving her some great advice. He had experience in all these different things, she wondered if he had experience with a submissive woman. She was submissive. She was confident in herself and what she was doing in her life, but in the bedroom she wanted to surrender to the energy of being, being...his. She didn't want to be owned, used, hurt, or humiliated. She just wanted to be, his. She felt like he might understand.
"Sometimes people just need to be made love to."
There, she said it. She had sent a signal. She had dropped the words masterfully into the end of a piece of conversation. Subtle. Easy to miss. Easy to ignore if she was wrong. Easy to recast if she was really wrong.
She was right. He was paying attention. He didn't miss much of a beat, but his eyes changed. His body shifted. He understood. She had that feeling.
—
Sometimes you just have a feeling...
He had thought there was something especially attractive about this woman at the moment saw her picture online. There was something in her eyes that made him think she was looking at HIM. That was silly of course. At the instant some photographer half a country away from him had snapped the image, she had not known he existed.
But he had that feeling and he always paid attention to that feeling.
That feeling didn't just come when looking at a beautiful woman. Sometimes it came when meeting a person for business and knowing an opportunity was headed his way. But, when it was with women, the feeling told him she could be his, would open herself to him if the circumstances were right, would let him taste her soul. Yes, he could be a wolf, hunting, dominant, but not the kind that hurt people.
He didn't take charge to feed his ego...well, most of the time that wasn't the reason. He took charge because that's how people acted around him. It had always been that way. He had been the leader in elementary school, the President of his 4-H club, the President of his college fraternity, the top sales guy in several companies, asked to serve on Boards, all that stuff. Sometimes he took control. Usually control was willingly, joyfully given to him. It was her willing and complete surrender of control being offered to him when he saw her picture. It was her submission he saw. He didn't hurt women. Nothing turned him off faster or pissed him off more than women being treated with disrespect of any kind. No, he was attuned to the submission offered behind closed doors between a man and a woman.
That was the feeling he had when they had met the first time.
That was the feeling he had now.
But she had not actually offered herself. Yet.
