We sat in the box seats along the third base line at Fenway Park, watching the Red Sox pulverize the Yankees. It was the seventh-inning stretch, Sweet Caroline was playing loudly, the fans were singing to it, and Stephen and I had just bought Polish sausages.
As I took my first bite, he leaned over, and whispered, "You could probably take in that whole thing, couldn't you?"
I smiled. I knew he was referring to last week, our first date, if you wanted to call it that. We had met after I answered his online ad, both of us being married bi-guys who wanted to try out a sub/dom gay relationship. For newbies, it had gone pretty well, or well enough, I guess, because here we were today at our second meet-up. After the game, we were going to be going somewhere special, Stephen had promised me, but not to where, nor for what.
When the last Yankee flied out, we filed out along with the other thirty-seven thousand jubilant fans. We moved slowly, with the throng, to his car and drove off into an area of Boston that I'd never before been. We strolled down Ellery Street and through the door of Silks and All That Ilk, a dress shop that catered to men. Our sales person introduced themself with their preferred pronouns and asked us what we were looking for today.
As I stood there stunned and speechless, Stephen took charge. "I would like a lovely evening dress for my girly boyfriend."
Erika, our sales person, eyed me approvingly, and walked us over to a rack of tight-fitting dresses with lace in various places and spaghetti shoulder straps, cut, apparently, with a broader chest for a cross-dressing man. I was shown the fitting room, took off everything except my briefs, and put one dress on, walked out to look and be looked at, blushing all the while. After trying on two more, which didn't meet with Stephen's approval, the fourth one clearly did. I saw him in the mirror's reflection nodding, his tongue licking his lower lip, as he nodded to Erika that we would take it. We were shown a pair of matching shoes, which Stephen also bought. I was still flummoxed by this surprise shopping trip, but what I learned from my last time meeting with him was that when I was in his house, I did what he wanted. Now I wondered if that extended to when I was in his car and whenever I was in his presence. That thought was met with anxiety, but it also thrilled me. I sensed a power dynamic. I gave him the power to tell me what to do, but my obedience turned him on, and gave me the power of seduction.
We left the store and walked down the block back to where his car was parked, passing a shop called LeatherFolk on our right with flogs and other bondage paraphernalia displayed in the window.
"We'll visit that shop sometime," Stephen stated nonchalantly. I swallowed hard.
We ate dinner at his favorite fish place, and talked cordially, about the game, about work, and about other things, none of which had to do with our visit to the dress shop.
When we returned to his place, as he unlocked the front door, I inquired,
"When will your wife return tonight?"
"That was a little white lie I told you last time. I'm no longer married. I just didn't want you to have any expectations about staying the night."
"What about tonight?" I entreated as he opened the inside door, and we stepped inside.
He shut it, locked it, turned toward me, put his thick-fingered hands on my shoulders, and, with his massive frame, pushed me up against the door.
He stared into my eyes, "If you are a good little girl, I will permit you to stay the night with me."
"Thank you, Sir," I heard myself say, though a bit falteringly, the familiar thrill of his domination beginning to weaken me in my knees.
Then he let me go, stepped back and said, "I want you to, how do the ladies put it, 'freshen up a bit,' so you can put that dress on when your body is clean everywhere. And I mean everywhere. I'm gonna shower first. You can go after me. There's a spare bedroom where you can change. And let me get you a razor. I want you to shave your legs, and put a cream on them after you've showered."
"Yes, Sir," I tried to enthusiastically signal my agreement, as I tamped down any fears of what might be asked of me next.
While he showered, I undressed in the spare room, and hung my new garment over the curtain rod, putting the low-heeled shoes beneath. I wrapped a towel around my waist and waited. I didn't know where this relationship was going, as trepidation kept warring with titillation.
Minutes later a knock came on the door, Stephen announcing that it was my turn. I walked into the bathroom, with its mirror fogged-up from his shower, and assembled what I would need in the stall. Never having done this before, I tried out various methods and finally succeeded in shaving my insteps and calves up to my mid thighs. I washed the rest of my body concentrating on what Stephen probably meant by "everywhere," shampooed, and then rinsed off. I dried and put his rose-scented cream on my legs.
Back in the spare bedroom, using the full-length mirror, I put on my new gown, turning first one way and then the other. In the privacy of my room, without any potentially disapproving eyes, I marveled at how the dress defined my broad shoulders and sculpted my waist and hips, while accentuating my tight ass. And that slit up the left side, a very alluring feature, showed off one of my newly shaven and gleaming legs. The low-cut neckline, revealing my pecs, and the scooped back gave anyone an exquisite view of my torso. But perhaps the most striking feature to me was the sheen of the deep blue color, making my eyes all the more lustrous. With poise and confidence, I exited the bedroom and strode the hallway to the living room.
And there he was, standing, patiently waiting, and now intently ogling, in a pleated white shirt, a gold chain nestling in his chest hair between the collar opened several buttons down, and contrasting black slacks and shoes. He looked irresistible, massive, and manly.
