Bending to His Will

[SweetAsSuga]

Closed for Scuttle Buttin'


"Fifty Shades of Grey, the Crossfire and Breathless series. These books and many more like them have brought the world of bondage to the forefront. Women are eating up these stories and using them as a basis for their own sexual exploration. But how well do these stories depict the reality of a bondage lifestyle? Do they truly capture the world that was once thought taboo? Or are they merely romanticized versions of a darker reality?" Kate Hollings paused, drawing a breath as she waited for Matt Caufield, her editor, to take in and contemplate her questions. The silence stretched between them, taut as a rubber band pulled nearly to its breaking point. Kate shifted nervously, anxious for some sign that Matt was responding to what she was saying. But the man remained as stoic as ever, his hands steepeled beneath his chin as he stared at her with those dark brown eyes that may have been seductive to his wife, but that intimidated the hell out of Kate.

"What I am proposing," she continued, crossing her legs to keep from fidgeting too much, "is an in depth look at the BDSM world. What is it really like? What kind of people consider themselves a part of that lifestyle? How far can one go down the rabbit hole so to speak."

"And just how do you plan on getting your research?" Matt's voice was rough, the result of a former two-pack a day habit. "I'm pretty sure that Joe Somebody right off the street isn't going to confess to being into whips and chains. And I sure as hell can guarantee you that nobody is going to talk about their sadistic tendencies over coffee."

"I've got that covered." Kate said, excited to finally have thought two steps ahead of her boss. "I'm going to do this the same way Hunter S. Thompson did all his research."

"You're going into the trenches?" Matt raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "You, Ms. Kate Morrow, the most buttoned-up woman in this newsroom, are going to immerse yourself in the BDSM lifestyle." Kate tried not to flinch as Matt laughed. And not just a polite little chuckle, but a deep belly laugh that echoed through his office. "No offense, Kate, but have you even had sex?"

Kate ducked her head, a curtain of sleek black hair falling around her face to hide the blush that crept up her cheeks. Okay, so she wasn't some sexual siren, but she wasn't some simpering virgin either. She enjoyed a very active sex life with her boyfriend. Or she had until he dumped her three weeks ago. The blush deepened to a fiery red as she thought back to that day. He had walked out on her, telling her he had met someone else. Someone who wasn't afraid to experiment the way he wanted. In short, a woman who wasn't "vanilla." But what was wrong with being vanilla? Kate didn't see the problem with enjoying plain sex. Why did people need to add in all those other elements; the whips and chains and blindfolds and everything else. It was because of this that Kate wanted to do this article. She wanted to know what the allure was. What made this formerly taboo sexual experience so desirable?

"You're a great reporter, Kate, don't get me wrong," Matt leaned forward, "You have proven that you aren't afraid to get your hands dirty for the sake of a story. But, I think this particular story is a bit out of your league."

"I can do it, Matt, I promise you I can." The desire to show him that she could filled her and there was no hiding the fire that burned in her gaze. She had to do this story. If not to prove Matt wrong, than to prove that she wasn't just some silly, naïve girl. She leaned in, her elbows balancing on the desk. Lowering her voice to barely a whisper she added, "I've already got someone who is going to introduce me to a Dominant."

"Holy hell, Kate, you're really serious about this." The older man sat back, shocked. The first time Kate had ever seen the look on her mentor's face. Kate had known Matt since her years as an under-grad. He had been an adjunct professor in her Investigative Journalism class and she had fallen in love the moment he opened his mouth. Not with him - he was old enough to be her father - rather with the form of journalism he taught. From that first day she had strived to make him proud. Matt had taken her under his wing and mentored her through the rest of her studies - from under-grad to grad school. And, when he had become Editor in Chief at the New York Times, he offered Kate a job. A dream come true.

"I told you I was. Let me do this, Matt. You know I can."

He surveyed her with those eyes that could see straight through the surface and right to the heart and soul of a person. With a sigh he ran a hand through his graying hair and Kate knew that she had won.

"If we're going to do this, then we are going to do it right. A series of articles, each one focusing on a different aspect of BDSM and comparing and contrasting the reality to the fiction. I want two thousand words on my desk by next Tuesday. And, Kate, if you can pull this off we're going above the fold on this one."

With a grin, Kate stood and left Matt's office before he could change his mind. A series of exposes and each one above the fold! It was far more than Kate could have hoped for and she wasn't about to let Matt down.

~*~*~*~​

Foot tapping impatiently on the hardwood floor, Kate sat in the back corner of Higher Grounds, an out of the way coffeehouse that she had discovered her freshman year at NYU. She had been a regular there ever since. Kate was about to step into a world that she had no clue about, a world that was as unfamiliar to her as the moon. So, best to meet her new Dominant - god that sounded weird - on familiar turf.

After the meeting with Matt two days ago, Kate had immediately called her former NYU roommate, Lynette, the woman who would connect her with all the right people. Kate and Lynette were as different as night and day yet, somehow, they had immediately hit it off and had spent all four years of under-grad as roommates. Now, while Kate wrote for the Times, Lynette did the accounts for The Dragon's Lair - a dungeon that had been in Hell's Kitchen long before it was the hip new place to live. Lynette wasn't a Dominatrix herself, but she knew how to get in contact with those who enjoyed being the Dom in a relationship. It had taken a little while for her to track down a man who was interested in training a new Submissive - those in Lynette's social circle were women more often than not and, though Kate was willing to stretch her comfort zone for this article, she wasn't ready to stretch it to the point of being with another woman - but, she had eventually found a man and had set up the meet for the two of them as Kate had no idea how to go about doing so herself.

Unsure of what to wear when meeting one's future Dominant - or did she call him master? - Kate had gone for the subtle look. Jeans and a blue t-shirt, both of which hugged her slight curves, emphasizing the fact that she was not a stick thin woman but did, in fact, have a bit of meat on her bones. Her dark hair was in a loose, messy braid that hung over her right shoulder. A light coating of mascara and some rose tinted lip gloss were her only make-up.

Her grey eyes tracked each man that walked through the door. Lynette had given her no idea as to what the man looked like, a request on his part she had said when telling Kate when to meet him, and now the woman wondered if every man that glanced her way was him. Her heart fluttered inside her chest, pounding so roughly she could hear the pulse like the roar of the ocean in her ears. If she was this nervous just meeting him how the hell was she going to get through the research? Kate forced the thought away with a shake of her head. She closed her eyes and forced herself to draw a deep, calming breath.

"You can do this," she muttered. "You are a strong and capable woman who can handle anything he might throw at you." With a quick nod of her head, as if to affirm the words, Kate's eyes fluttered open. And collided straight with the eyes of her mystery man.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

It was, without question, the strangest set up he'd been a party to. When one was a generally single man - he'd yet to find anyone he truly wanted to settle down with - they were often set up by their female friends, and he was no exception to that rule. Dates with women that were as vanilla as could be, dates with women that seemed ready to submit to anyone that held eye contact with them, dates with women that had read Fifty Shades and thought they knew all there was about a D/s relationship. Those in the last group didn't tend to get a second date. He may have a sadistic streak in him, but breaking women, and their illusions with them, was not his idea of a good time.

But this one belonged in a category all it's own. Lynette had told him she was inexperienced, which was not a deal breaker on it's own, but also that she was a reporter. And she wanted to write about her experiences with him. It took him three days of consideration, and a little research into Kate and her published works, before he agreed to do it. If nothing else, he could request that his name not be published, and it would be a story to tell later. One most people probably wouldn't believe, but something he could look back on in a few years, and laugh. The guy that dominated the reporter for that story on BDSM. He'd be anonymously famous.

When he contacted Lynette again to agree to do it, he gave her one stipulation: Kate couldn't know what he looked like. They'd meet when and where she wanted, he wanted her to be comfortable and relaxed for their first meeting, but he also wanted the chance to observe her a little before he approached. People gave away things in their body language when they didn't know they were being watched - their level of self-confidence, their nerves and apprehension, the height of their anticipation - and he wanted a few minutes to measure these things in her. He had some experience with the uninitiated, and they most often had a sort of nervous energy about them, almost an aura that glowed around them, and he hoped to see it from her. It was for a story, yes, but if she was detached and just going through the motions, she'd never truly experience her subject matter, and the writing would suffer because of it. He wouldn't contribute to that.

It was for this reason that Graeme Wilshere entered the little coffee shop and made for the counter without hesitation. Foot traffic was steady in the area, and it was easy to blend into the crowd of people coming and going, leaving him just another customer stopping in for a drink. A short distance behind her then, he leaned against the counter and watched her as his drink was prepared. She was unquestionably attractive, at least one reason he found himself happy to be here.

She was clearly looking for him, her head turning in the direction of any man that walked in, and he couldn't help the grin as he watched her, back straightening, body shifting slightly in one direction or the another, searching anxiously. He liked what he saw and, cup of coffee in hand, decided it was time to put the poor girl out of her misery. It wouldn't be something he did often.

Her shoulder rose as he approached from behind her, a deep breath drawn into her lungs, and he smiled when he came around and saw her eyes closed, lips moving as she said something he couldn't quite make out above the din. He moved so he was across the table from her, his smile broadening when her eyes opened and found his.

"Kate? I'm Graeme. My apologies for sneaking up on you like that."

His voice was low, a rumble in his chest, and he set the insulated paper cup on the table in front of him before pulling out the chair. Lowering himself into the seat across from her, his hands smoothed over the charcoal slacks he wore, the powder blue button down shirt tailored to hang from his shoulders and stretch across the expanse of his chest with just enough room to move. His forearms, sleeves rolled halfway up each, rested on the corner of the table, and he leaned forward over the table so they could talk without broadcasting their conversation to any who may decide to eavesdrop.

"I have to admit, I did a bit of research on you when Lynette approached me about this. Your writing is very impressive."

He paused, closing his hands around the cup and running the pad of a forefinger absently along the edge of the cardboard clutch around the center of it.

"None of it was quite what you seem to want to do with this, though... it made me wonder what came first: Wanting the experience, or wanting to write about it?"

 

[SweetAsSuga]

He moved with a masculine grace; self-assured and sensual. Movements that made Kate feeling like a bumbling idiot as she hastily tried to clean up the mess of papers that she had laying about the table. Her hands, nervous and unsure, nearly knocked his coffee over in the rush, causing her face to flame with embarrassment. So much for making a good first impression. She could barely meet his eyes as he sat there, looking far too delicious in his perfectly tailored slacks and dress shirt. There was no doubt that this was a man used to getting what he wanted. Heart hammering inside her chest, Kate was amazed that he could not hear it as well it sounded so loud to her ears, she straightened up the pages of research she had printed out prior to their meeting in hopes of brushing up on the topic at hand before his arrival. She used the brief moments to calm herself, to find her center and focus on the task at hand. This was just another day. Another normal day of interviewing a subject and getting the facts. Kate had done this a million times before...just never with someone who, with just a simple glance, could turn her into a bumbling school girl. This did not bode well for Kate. He'd only introduced himself and, already, she was acting the submissive. What did that mean for when he actually exercised his dominance?

"You researched me?" His words caught her attention and her eyes flew back up to meet his. Lynette had refused to give Kate any information about this man, leaving the poor woman completely blind about who she was meeting. Graeme already had the upper hand. Kate could feel her blush deepening as he surveyed her, his gaze seeming to peel away the layers of her clothing and skin to see straight into her soul. How did he do that?

She had barely recovered from his statement when he fired off his next quest, rattling Kate to her core.

"Well I..." she hesitated, unsure how to answer. It wasn't a tricky question. In fact, it was one that any sane person would ask. So why was it throwing Kate so off kilter?

"Well I guess," she said after a quick breath, "if I'm being totally honest with you, the answer to your question is: I don't know. You're right in saying that it's not my usual type of story. I'm used to writing about corrupt politicians and city scandals and things like that. This story is completely out of my element. I'm completely out of my element." She glanced down at the half drunk hazelnut latte in front of her, toying with the warm porcelain of the mug. "I suppose," she continued, still eying the milky foam swirling around the tan coffee, "that it was a combination of the two. I mean, with all the books out there right now that center around these women who submit to rich, powerful men, it's interesting how women are viewing this as a sexual revolution. It's not, you know. Women submit and men dominate, it's the focal point of every one of these books. So, I suppose I want to know why this is such a huge craze and why it's being viewed in such a revolutionary way."

She chanced a look at Graeme, taking in the way the muscles in his forearms looked as he leaned on the table. His body bent towards her as he listened. It struck Kate that he was genuinely interested in what she had to say. Nervously brushing a strand of chestnut hair behind her ear, Kate cleared her throat.

"In the same way, though," she began, trying not to let his unwavering gaze unnerve her, "I have to admit that I'm fascinated by the Dom/Sub relationship. My ex always said that I was too 'vanilla' and bland for him. And, again, if I'm being truthful here, he was right." A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she remembered the way her asshole of an ex had walked out on her after five years together, leaving her with an apartment she could barely afford and a heart that lay shattered on the floor. They'd talked about marriage, about building a life together. She still didn't know what had caused him to simply walk away from everything they'd built together...perhaps the yoga instructor who could twist like a pretzel had had something to do with the end of their relationship. Kate knew she hated the exercise for a reason.

She shook the thought away and focused on Graeme once more.

"So, I suppose what I am trying to say, is that I am completely and utterly clueless when it comes to this. But, if you are willing to put up with my complete lack of sexual prowess and my incessant need to question every little thing, I would love to take on this challenge with you." Kate smiled, trying to lighten the heavy mood that seemed to have settle on her. She wanted to appear as cool and confident as Graeme, but that was hard to do when she was trying not to fall back into neurotic tendencies she'd had when she had been a rookie.

Pushing her shoulders back, Kate straightened her posture, sitting up higher in the wooden chair as she tried to give herself a degree of professionalism.

"We will, of course, work out an agreement as to what we both expect. And, should you choose, you will be given a pseudonym. I wouldn't want to jeopardize your reputation or anything. I'll want to conduct interviews along with the rest of the uh...research." Kate allowed her words to trail off, studying Graeme's reaction to her proposal. Her stomach knotted, twisting nervously as she waited for his answer. Half of her hoping he would say no, the other half crying out for him to say yes.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

It was difficult to judge her age from her appearance alone - some women simply aged better than others, and she could very well be one of them - but there was something schoolgirlish about her as she shuffled and straightened papers and seemed to have trouble finding herself for a moment. In truth, he was nervous about this meeting as well, a set up where the arrangement was all but agreed upon before hand. Less of an audition, more of a call-back. They'd both be feeling their way through some of this, testing the waters with each other, searching for any chemistry that may be flowing between them.

At the same time, he was confident in himself, in his position here, and there was something about her nervousness that he was drawn to. An uncertainty that seemed to beckon him closer, invite him past the face everyone put on for a first meeting to find her fears, find the things that made her weak in the knees, and search for that place where the two mingled together. The place where the lines of uncertainty and trust blurred. He thought it might take some effort to truly find it, her professionalism and reporter's mind may fight to keep her a bit detached from things, but looking at her across the table from him, listening as she hesitated in contemplation of his question, he knew he wanted to take her there. Out into the deep water, and push her head under, to feel consumed.

As she spoke of being too 'vanilla,' Graeme couldn't help but to smile. The little crows feet in the corners of his eyes revealed themselves as he listened, offering a little nod of his head occasionally to signal that he was still engaged with her. His eyes, a deep brown, remained focused on her even over the rim of his cup as he took a sip of strong, dark coffee, wanting her familiar with his unwaivering gaze.

"Well," he said, setting his cup back on the table and clasping his fingers together around it, "I think your ex was a weak man, by the sounds of it. Everyone is inexperienced at some point. But having the curiosity to want to explore something like this, and the strength to make it happen..." his voice trailed off, and he lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug, "Perhaps he just couldn't handle that.

"As for this," he said, lifting his hand and pivoting his finger from himself to her and back, "I think we should set a ground rule. You'll have to ask plenty of questions, of course, since you're writing about this, but I think we need to draw a line between things."

He paused, shifting slightly in his seat, his body leaning forward a bit more over the table, her scent mingling with that of the coffee, strong and pleasant in his nose.

"You are free to ask me any questions you want, and I will answer them honestly and to the best of my ability... but only when we have designated it as an interview time. Any time outside of that, I will give you the answer I think you need, when I think you need to have it."

He paused, and his lips curved just slightly into a grin.

"And perhaps only after you've earned it."

The cup was lifted to his lips again, his eyes again remaining on her over the arch of the rim, the drink he took then more full, letting his words fully settle on her. The cup found it's place on the table again, and he straightened up a bit, his forearms still resting across the edge of the table.

"Do you think you can agree to that, Kate?"

 

[SweetAsSuga]

Kate had interviewed politicians, foreign dignitaries, Congressmen and heads of state; but never had she worked with someone whose gaze was so intense and intimidating as Graeme's. He made her feel as if her clothes had already been shed and lay in a pile at her feet. Determined not to squirm beneath his steadfast gaze, Kate endeavored to show that she would not be an easy conquest. No doubt, the man was used to women falling, unblinkingly, under his spell. Kate would not be one of them. This was a business deal and nothing more.

But isn't this the point of the whole thing? The little voice inside her head pointed out most annoyingly. Aren't you supposed to understand what it means to be a submissive. Including how it feels to fall under your Dominant's spell?

Kate glared at her inner voice, cursing the thing for being so practical.

Graeme watched her, possibly wondering what was going on in her head, and as she met his gaze, Kate found herself fighting the urge to confess her deepest secrets to him. God, if this was how she responded to him after a simple coffee date, what would she do once he really got his teeth into her? The image of him nibbling on the tender flesh of her shoulder sent a shiver of anticipation through Kate and she bit her lip to keep the moan of pleasure that the thought brought her from passing her lips.

Oh fuck, she thought, what have I gotten myself into?

Kate struggled to pay attention as Graeme outlined his thoughts on how they should go about the interviews.

"Sounds fair-" her words stopped short as the second part of his comment sunk in. "After I've earned it?" One delicate eyebrow lifted in question. "And just how do you plan on me earning these answers?" She knew the question would bring trouble as soon as the words left her mouth. She could practically see the devious images floating in his mind. The way he leaned in towards her, the gleam in his eyes, it did not bode well for Kate. Yet she could not stop the goosebumps that rose on her flesh nor could she stop the way her stomach twisted into knots that sent a jolt between her legs.

She tried to hide her response to him by taking a sip of her latte. She grimaced as the now cold espresso sat bitterly on her tongue. Setting the cup aside, Kate forced herself to, once again, meet Graeme's gaze.

"I suppose if we're going to do this we should set a time to meet again. I'd like to do some of the ah...research before setting an interview time." She stumbled over her words as she dug for her phone, which lay hidden within the stack of papers. Her nerves were starting to get the better of her as her fingers tripped over the keypad, searching for her calendar. "I have time this Saturday, if that's good for you." She glanced up at Graeme, her gaze wavering as he stared at her with that same self-assured smirk that he'd had in place since he sat down. God that smirk would be the death of her.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

It was a Cheshire Cat grin that met her question, a brow arching at her over one chocolate eye. Her curiosity was not surprising, and if he was honest with himself it was a trap he'd set just to see if she'd take the bait or not. He was more than a little pleased when she did, and knew then that if nothing else, her reporter's natural curiosity would get her in trouble.

"How will you earn them?" he asked when she was able to set her eyes on his again, the answering following right behind, "By doing as you're told, of course. When you're told."

He watched her still over the rim of his cup as he took a drink of what had become lukewarm coffee at best, and then set his own cup aside so he had a clear space on the table.

"How about dinner? I know a great little Italian place, not far from here actually. I may've taken the liberty of making a reservation already," he said, withdrawing his wallet and pulling one of his business cards free. "It's a busy little joint, but somewhere we can talk without worrying about being overheard."

His eyes left her finally, the card flipped over to the blank back and a pen taken from his pocket so he could write a couple quick notes on the back. Restaurant name - day - time, and then, right after the scrawled 7p, was written one word in bold pen strokes, the letters underlined once for emphasis: Sharp.

Sliding the card off the table, he held it pinched between his thumb and forefinger and offered it to her. His grip tightened when her own fingers closed on it, not releasing it until her eyes met his gaze again.

"You're free to ask any questions you'd like during dinner. If you leave the restaurant with me after that, once we step outside, you're mine."

He released the card then, and with his forearms back on the table, leaned forward so his voice could drop again, to be heard by her ears only.

"If that's acceptable to you, Kate, then just say 'yes, Sir,' and I'll see you Saturday night."

---​

The taxi pulled to the curb, and he checked his watch as it slowed to a stop. Only a few minutes before seven, but he knew she wouldn't be late. He wouldn't, in fact, be terribly surprised to see her already waiting for him. Pulling a few bills free, he handed the driver enough for the fare and a good tip for getting him there on time.

The weather was supposed to be stormy later, and as he stepped free of the cab he could feel some hint of the electricity building in the air. The smell of rain wafted to him on the breeze, a growing storm sending out hints of it's arrival. His suit was dark, well-tailored charcoal lines, the shirt under sharp and white and broken up by the stark red of the tie he wore. Buttoning his jacket, he paused to allow a couple to pass before crossing to pull open the door to the restaurant, and step inside.

 

[SweetAsSuga]

The knowing look in his eyes as Kate took the business card from his fingers sent shivers down the young woman's spine. It was as if he could already see Kate bowing to his will, bending and scraping in an effort to please him. She bit her lip, something she seemed to be doing a lot in Graeme's presence, as her fingertips brushed against his, the thick paper smooth as cream between her fingers.

Pulling the business card to her, Kate read it quickly. She knew the restaurant well, though she'd never entered it herself. It was one of those places that her editors liked to visit when wooing potential advertisers and other big wigs in the business. It was also a restaurant with a reputation for being the perfect place to make shady deals and discuss things of a more private nature. Kate found it only fitting for it to be the place where her own risqué business arrangement was to begin.

Her eyes caught on the brisk, bold line beneath Sharp, as if every once of Graeme's commanding nature had been placed into that one little line. Who knew that one word could hold so much weight and demand such un-flinching obedience. Her eyebrows rose slightly at the word, a devious part of her mind wondering just what he would do if she disobeyed before they had even begun. The thought appealed to her curious nature but she brushed it away as quickly as it popped into her mind. Best not to start things off on the wrong foot.

The air seemed to crackle around Kate as Graeme leaned forward, his rough voice lowered to a husky - and downright sexy - whisper that sent shivers of anticipation coursing through Kate. Her mouth felt dry and she took a hasty gulp of her cold latte. The sludge at the bottom of her mug didn't faze her as it slid down her throat. She was too consumed by Graeme and that dead sexy spark in his eyes and the sinful promise in his words. She barely heard a word he was saying, transfixed as she was by his mouth. Kate couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have those strong, masculine lips pressed against hers or to feel him kissing her skin, tracing every curve of her body.

His brow arched, as if waiting for her reply.

Wait...what had he just said? Lost in her scandalous thoughts, Kate had missed Graeme's question. Not wanting to appear ignorant or stupid, Kate raised her mug to take another long drink of her latte, only to find that there was nothing but a thin film of foam on the bottom of the mug. Dammit.

Wracking her brain, Kate tried to reconstruct their conversation. Ah, that was it! Her triumph was short lived as she recalled how he wished her to answer. So were they starting now? Kate felt a hesitancy deep in the pit of her stomach. Did she really want to commit to this? Did she really want to learn what it meant to truly be submissive, to allow someone else to dominate her and command her? Never one to back down from a story, especially one that she had fought so hard for, Kate drew in a deep breath and said, in a voice that shook with trepidation and a hint of anticipation.

"Yes, Sir."

****​

Shit. Shit. Shit. Kate ran down the sidewalk as fast as she could in the four inch, black strappy sandals. Tourists with cameras pressed firmly in their hands stared at her as she ran, or rather waddled very quickly, pass them. The native New Yorkers could have cared less and paid her no mind as they hurried on with their own hectic lives. She could feel the sweat beading on her forehead and pooling between her breasts. Great, not only was she going to be late, but she was also going to be drenched in sweat. Not the impression she wanted to give Graeme.

Kate had had it all planned. She would arrive at the restaurant early, look drop-dead gorgeous in her black, vintage Chanel sheath dress that accentuated her curves in a way that made even Kate do a double take whenever she passed a mirror. Her hair would be loose around her shoulders, framing her heart shaped face and drawing attention to the subtle dip of the dress's neckline. She would be leaning against the bar, drink in hand, when Graeme arrived and he would be so taken with her that he would fall to his knees before her. Okay, so maybe that last part was a stretch, but a girl could dream.

Instead, what had happened was a pipe had burst in Kate's apartment. A pipe in her bedroom, right above the chair where she had so meticulously laid out her dress. After getting the super and having him take care of the pipe, Kate had lost not only her dress, but an hour of prep time as well. After a rushed shower, in which she had no time to wash her hair, Kate had quickly pulled her hair up into a messy, yet somewhat stylish, bun. Never had she done her make-up so quickly, a few flicks of eye shadow, a dusting of blush, and a sweep of the mascara wand and she was finished. No time to do more than that. It had taken her much longer than she had anticipated to find a replacement dress. The Chanel had been so perfect, and Kate had no clue what to wear in place of it. Finally, after trying on twenty different dresses, all of which Kate suddenly thought made her look like a sack of potatoes, she settled on a lace dress in a pale, blush pink with an A-line skirt that flared lightly just above her knees. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do.

Rounding the block, Kate finally reached the restaurant. She skidded to a halt just outside, bent at her waist as she tried to catch her breath. A few strands of hair had escaped the bun as she ran and now stuck to the fine sheen of sweat on her face. Frustrated, Kate batted the arrant strands away. She drew in a deep breath, the smell of impending rain making her smile. Kate had always loved the way the air smelled before a rain storm.

After running a calming hand over her skirt, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles, Kate opened the door and walked inside.

Immediately her eyes flew to Graeme. He was sex with legs in that suit, so crisply tailored to his body. Every woman in the room seemed to watch him as he leaned against the bar. But the fire in his eyes was fixed firmly on Kate. She had done nothing wrong and yet she couldn't help but want to beg his forgiveness.

Approaching him slowly she found herself unable to meet his fiery gaze.

"I'm so sorry," she said, her eyes downcast, "I meant to be here on time but this pipe burst in my apartment, then I missed my stop on the subway so I had to get off like five blocks from here and I ran all the way and I'm gross and sweaty and super late and I am so sorry."

No matter how much she tried to shut her mouth the word vomit would not end and Kate could feel herself flushing beneath Graeme's steely stare. Chancing a look at him, Kate winced as the full force of his gaze hit her.

"Sorry." She muttered one last time, wondering what punishment he had in store for her.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

He was a bit surprised when he didn't find her waiting inside, but she still had a few minutes before she was late, and he had every confidence she would not disappoint him. Their reservation was for seven, but he told the hostess he'd wait at the bar for his date to arrive, and then made his way over. A fair amount of activity buzzed around the dark oak of the bar, but he found a spot that was empty and unbuttoned his jacket before leaning against it. Once he had the attention of the bartender, he ordered a scotch neat, and then checked his watch.

A frown creased his features when he saw the time, the two hands of watch pointed directly at 7 and 12, and then glanced up at the door. Still no sign of her. His drink was delivered a moment later, a silent nod of thanks offered to the bartender, and he lifted the glass to his lips to take a small drink. His eyes scanned the restaurant slowly, a final check to make sure they'd not somehow simply missed each other. No sign of her. Another check of his watch and the minute had had moved far enough now that the line indicating twelve on the watch face was fully visible. If she had simply decided she couldn't do it, then a call seemed the courteous thing to do, and he'd have been perfectly understanding. It wasn't as if there was much he could do at that point, anyway. He could be cruel, yes, but not without cause, and not to those who had not signed up for such treatment. If, on the other hand, she was simply running late... that was a different story entirely.

He took another drink of the scotch, this one longer than the last, and paused to savor the burn the alcohol left in his throat. A glance at the level of liquid left in the tumbler, and then another at his watch, and her time limit was set. If she didn't arrive before he finished his drink, then he would leave. If she still wished to continue with him, then 'come crawling back' would take on a very literal meaning for her.

A few minutes passed with him still leaning against the bar, and a single drink remained swirling in the bottom of his glass. He'd stopped checking his watch, and in truth had stopped actually expecting her to show. His fingers closed around the rim of the glass, ready to lift it and down the final bit that would put an end to the night, when he heard the sudden increased sounds of traffic outside from the door being opened. He was surprised when he turned to look, expecting to see some random unknown person entering or leaving, and he found her making her way in instead.

Turning back to the raised glass, he downed the last of the scotch and replaced the glass, then turned fully to face her. His gaze moved over her quickly. He had an eye for detail, a skill he'd picked up during his career that often proved useful outside of it as well, and he found himself a little impressed at how put together she managed to look despite the clear signs of being hurried and disheveled.

He listened to her tale of woe with a silent patience, stoic in the face of her frenzy. When she finally managed to quell the flow of words from her mouth, he gave her a small, silent nod, and withdrew his wallet. Turning away from her, he first laid a bill on the top of the bat and set his empty glass atop it, enough to pay for the drink and leave a tip for the bartender. Next, he pulled free another business card, identical to the one he'd given her save for the writing on the back. The waller was slid into the inner pocket of his jacket, and the card was held between his fingers and thumb, the face of it made visible to her.

Stepping close to her then, his arm moved around her, his open hand in the small of her back as he pulled her body close to his. Hurried and a bit of a mess though she may be, her curves still felt wonderful against his frame, and he smiled faintly when his lips moved near her ear.

"You're sorry, Sir," he began, his voice low in her ear, his eyes fixed on the door behind her as he spoke, "And my number is on the card I gave you, Kate. A simple call to inform me of your burst pipes is not too much to ask, I think you would agree."

He paused a moment to let the statement hang in the small space between his lips and her ear.

"But that opportunity is obviously past us now, and we move on with a different night than originally planned. I'm going to go hail a cab. You are going to go into the restroom and wipe some of the sweat from your brow, and then meet me outside."

His paused again, a heartbeat of silence from him, and the fingers splayed on her back pressed more firmly against her, keeping her body tight to his as he continued.

"And when you do, Kate, you'll drop your panties in my hand."

His smile, far less faint this time, flashed at the reaction he felt in her body, and he pressed on.

"You took something of mine, Kate: my time. And so I will take something of yours, until I decide you deserve to have it back. I do not suggest you leave me waiting out there for long."

His lips brushed against her jaw then, and he moved away from her, his hand sliding from the small of her back around her to side, fingertips slipping along the curve of her hip before falling away, and then he made his way to the door, the smell of rain stronger as he pushed it open. Any moment now, the storm would arrive.

 

[SweetAsSuga]

Wide-eyed and confused Kate watched Graeme stalk out of the restaurant, his back and shoulders perfectly straight in a show of superiority. Her eyes tracked his movement, watching the way his pants clung so perfectly to his ass. Damn if it wasn’t a sin for a man to look that good.

Not until the door closed behind him did Kate’s mouth, which had fallen open at his very brazen command, snap shut as she realized that she was on a deadline and, if she didn’t want Graeme any more pissed than he already was, she’d better get her ass in gear.

With no idea what type of punishment he had in mind, and somewhat nervous to find out, Kate moved quickly to the lady’s room. Pushing inside her nose was assaulted by the plethora of perfumes and hairsprays being sprayed by the women crowded around the mirror. Sneezing, Kate pushed her way into the throng determined to meet Graeme’s deadline.

“Excuse me.” She said, elbowing her way in. A woman in a skintight leopard print dress that left nothing to the imagination paused in fluffing her South Jersey coif and glared at Kate.

“Watch it,” the Jersey Shore wannabe snapped, “wait your turn bitch.”

“Sorry cant’ do that.” Kate turned on her reporter glare, the one that had business men and politicians spilling their dirty secrets in seconds. Snooki 2.0 was immune.

“What the fuck you lookin’ at.”

Drops of spit landed on Kate’s bare arm. Grimacing, Kate ignored the woman as best she could. Focusing on her reflection the grimace deepened. She looked like shit. No wonder Graeme wanted her to clean up before leaving. What man in his right mind would want such a fucked up looking woman on his arm?

With her time limit steadily ticking away Kate set about righting her appearance. She pulled the clip from her hair, letting the messy waves fall around her face in a somewhat, she hoped, sexy style. A quick brush of the mascara wand and a swipe of rose-tinted lip gloss fixed her make-up. Now the only thing left was her panties.

Kate gulped; suddenly turning as prudish as her Nana at the thought of handing her underwear over to a man who was pretty much a perfect stranger. But with the clock steadily ticking away in her head Kate did not have the luxury of contemplating the moral grey area that her research was inclined towards.

She ducked into the nearest stall and pulled her dress up. With a deep breath she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her baby blue lace panties and pulled them down. Stepping out of them before anyone had a chance to see them around her ankles under the wall of the stall; she quickly stuffed them into her purse.

With one last stabilizing breath, and a nervous tug on her dress, Kate stepped from the stall and made her way out into the restaurant. As soon as she stepped into the bar area she felt as if every eye were turned on her, like they knew she wasn’t wearing underwear. Though there was no possible way anyone could know Kate still hurried from the restaurant, resisting the urge to hold her skirt tight to her naked ass.

The cab was waiting by the curb, Graeme already inside and the backdoor was open as if the car itself had been waiting for her. As she slide in beside Graeme the first streak of lightening lit the sky, followed closely by a crack of thunder so loud that Kate could feel it vibrate in her bones.

"Um...here." She dug through her purse, gripping the panties and wadding them into a ball. With one eye on the taxi driver, Kate tried to pass the wadded up panties to Graeme, keeping her knees tightly pressed together in case the cabbie got any voyeuristic ideas.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

A breeze swept past him as he stepped away from the door, carrying on it the first small drops of rain. Hints of the oncoming change in weather, a little preview of things to come. Inhaling deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of the rain, he stepped to the curb and raised his hand to hail a passing cab. Petrichor they called it, that scent, and he let the word roll around on his tongue silently as the car slowed to a stop in front of him.

Opening the back door, he slid into the car and across the seat to the other side, leaving the door standing open. It acted as a rudder, redirecting some of the passing breeze into the compartment of the car, cooler air swirling around the pair of men as they waited.

"I have a companion joining me," Graeme said, settling back against the seat, one hand in the center of the seat and the other resting on his knee, "She should be out any moment now."

He was not disappointed in the timing of her reappearance, and he smiled in the darkened interior of the cab at the pace with which she covered the distance from the restaurant to the open door. The door was pulled closed as she slid in next to him, and just as the dim interior light was extinguished lightning split the sky, casting the pair of them in momentary in white light. Lifting his hand from the center of the seat between them, he turned it palm up, open and waiting for her to deliver as instructed. Again, he was not disappointed.

With his hand still open, he shifted his gaze to the rear view mirror and, open seeing the driver focused instead on pulling out into traffic, turned his attention once more back to the woman next to him. With his eyes on her face, he closed his fingers on the small bundle of lace in his palm, and slid it into the outer pocket of his suit jacket.

"Much better, Kate," he said, unconcerned with the driver overhearing them. Pulling his hand from the pocket, now empty, he moved it instead to her cup over her knee, his fingers slipping between them, separating them. His fingers were curled to the inside of her knee, and he pushed them up slowly, dragging them along the inside of her thigh, her skirt pushing up against his wrist. His eyes, meanwhile, were turned to look out the window, lending a casual air to the movement of his hand on her. It was, in truth, a bit of probing, a test to see just how much she was giving herself over to him already. He wouldn't have been surprised by a hand on his arm, stopping any further progress up her leg, just as he wouldn't be surprised to feel her thighs fall ever so slightly more open. The only real surprise would've been her hand pulling his up further. Kate Hollins, for all her journalistic vigor, didn't quite strike him as the type. Not yet, at least.

Halfway up her thigh his hand settled to a stop, and lightly he stroked his thumb against the smooth surface of her skin. Another flash of lightning streaked across the sky, seemingly splitting it open, and the rain that had been threatening for some time began to fall. The sound of it thundering down on the roof of the cab seemed to fill the interior, and puddles began to form quickly as the driver's vision was reduced by the sheets of rain. Mercifully, they arrived at his building a moment later, before they found themselves bogged down in the rapidly slowly traffic.

Graeme's hand remained on her leg a moment longer, his other pulling a few bills free from his pocket and handing them over the seat to the driver. "Keep the change," he told the man, leaving him with enough of a tip to thank him for sparing them from a walk in the rain. "Good luck with the rain."

He turned his body towards Kate, the curb on her side of the car, and his hand left her thigh at last, a short, light squeeze of soft flesh taken before it withdrew. The rain became louder when the car door was opened, the view of the front of his building rendered hazy by the intensity of the rain.

"After you," he said with a grin, following close behind her as they left the dry safety of the cab. He felt soaked almost instantly, the rain relentless against them, and in front of him he saw that the doorman had retreated inside. Who could blame him? Still, the door was pushed open as they approached, with the man tipping his cap to the pair of them as they slipped past. Mats to dry the bottoms of their shoes had been lined up leading into the lobby, and he skittered his feet against them for a moment once inside the door. He shook hands quickly with the doorman, and then moved to the elevator with Kate, his hand pressed to the small of her back.

Once the door closed, isolating them together as the elevator carried them up to his floor, he looked down at himself, then over to her. Both of them were dripping on the floor of the elevator, his suit and her dress both soaked and clinging to them. His eyes were slow over her, tracing the way the dress clung to her curves, and even still he couldn't help but laugh a little when his eyes reached her face.

"I think the rain has effectively ended our night out, but all is not lost," he said as the elevator dinged to signal they had arrived at their floor, "We'll just have a nice night in, instead."

The doors opened onto the top floor of the building, revealing a small entryway and, in front of them, a single door that led to his apartment. His hand moved to the small of her back again, and he followed her out of the elevator as he fished his keys from his pocket. Opening the door, he let her inside first, his hand light against her as he followed close behind.

The apartment was large, occupying a majority of the top floor of the building. Large windows, the blinds all pulled up, overlooked the city, the lights muddled by the sheets of water pouring over them right now. The lighting was dim, the floor plan open, and he closed the door behind them, setting his keys on a table beside the door.

"I'll give you the tour in a moment, let's find something dry for you to change into," he said, leading her towards his bedroom. The room was dark, save for the lights that pass through the rain and the windows, and he led her to the master bath. Flipping on the light, he blinked at the sudden brightness, the intensity of it magnified by the white of the tile. To the left, a sink and long counter were against the wall, with a mirror on the wall running the length of it. Across from that stood a deep, clawfoot tub, with a glass-doored shower stall in the corner.

Stepping in, he pulled his jacket off with some effort, the wet fabric clinging together, and laid it over the side of the tub. His tie followed, loosened, removed, laid over the edge, as he stepped out of his shoes and pushed them up against the base of the tub.

"There are towels in the cabinet behind the door," he said, nodding his head towards the other corner of the room as he untucked his shirt, "There should be a robe in there, too, if you'd be okay with that. We can let your clothes dry while I put together some food, and then you can ask me whatever questions you may have while we eat."

The shirt was removed, laid over the side of the tub, and he stepped to slip past her so she could get out of her wet clothes. His hands slid to her hips, their bodies close, and he stopped there suddenly. Water dripped from his hair, ran trails down his bare chest, dripped from the bottom of his pants to make small puddles at his feet. Without another word, he captured her mouth with his, the kiss sudden and fierce. One hand lifted, his fingers diving into her wet hair, and he stepped forward, moving her with him until her hips hit the counter behind her. Their bodies, wet clothing and bare skin, pressed together, his tongue probing, seeking entry to her mouth, to steal a taste of her. Outside the windows, the storm roiled and raged, lightning rocketing across the sky.

 

[SweetAsSuga]

There was something uniquely erotic about sitting in the back of the cab, her panties tucked in the outer pocket of Graeme's jacket with just the slightest bit of lace showing like a bawdy pocket square. Determined to show this man that she would not be intimidated by him, Kate focused her attention on the headrest in front of her. But, try as she might, the pure magnetism that was Graeme Wilshere would not be ignored. Kate found her gaze continually drifting to the man who sat beside her, his back perfectly straight and his stoic gaze fixated on the window and the city rushing past them.

The clouds that gathered above the city skyline were tinged with an ominous green. They were in for a massive storm. Already Kate could feel the electricity building, making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Perhaps the electricity was from Graeme's hand which had casually rested on her knee. The casualness ended there, however, as his hand inched upward, moving slowly beneath the loose skirt of her dress, his knuckles brushing against her opposite thigh. Kate refused to give in to his seduction, however, and held herself perfectly straight, keeping her thighs in their exact position. Every part of her screamed to allow him closer and the muscles in her thighs quivered with the urge to part and allow Graeme's tantalizing fingers to reach their obvious destination.

A streak of lightening flashed and rain beat down on the roof of the cab in a heavy tattoo that marked each beat of Kate's rapid pulse. The rain increased until a heavy sheet separated the cab from the rest of the city. A sense of sensual intimacy filled the darkened interior of the cab and Kate could feel the moment pressing down on her. Graeme's palm was warm and dry against the softness of her thigh and the longer they sat there, cocooned in their own little world, Kate could feel herself giving in.

Thank god! Kate thought as the cab pulled to a stop outside what Kate could only assume was Graeme's apartment. She had felt the muscles in her thighs giving way, her legs subtly parting, her body rebelling against her and giving in to the desire of a man's touch.

She breathed a sigh of relief as Graeme paid the driver. Finally, she would soon escape this torture and there would be space between them once again.

"After you." The grin on his face evidence that he knew she had been ready to give in.

The rain was hot, the air heavy and humid as Kate raced from the cab to the apartment building. She had been praying for a cold rain, one that would cool the heat building between her legs. Her dress clung to her, sticking to her legs as she ran for the dryness of the building. She could feel Graeme behind her, his body close to hers as if he thought to shield her from the worst of the rain.

If she had been a mess before, Kate was certain she looked a fright at that moment. Standing in the lobby of the upscale building, rain dripping from her dress to form a puddle around her feet, Kate was positive that she looked like someone had dragged her through the Hudson river and then left her in the nearest gutter. The laughter in Graeme's eyes as his gaze raked over did nothing to help the unease twisting deep in her gut.

"I think the rain has effectively ended our night out, but all is not lost. We'll just have a nice night in, instead." He said as they stepped into the elevator.

Kate's stomach clenched at the suggestion in his tone. Just what did this 'nice night' entail, she wondered, studying him from the corner of her eye. There was no denying the little bit of glee that shone in his eyes, as if he had planned the rain that had soaked them both. Hell, Kate wouldn't have been surprised if Graeme had something to do with the pipe bursting in her apartment, just so he would have an excuse to punish her before the night was over.

The ding of the elevator as the doors slid open sent her mind spinning in a million different directions. This was it, the moment of truth. She stood on the precipice of a new world; her feet perched on the ledge and every instinct screaming at her not to jump. But she was already in this deep, she couldn't back out now. So, as Graeme stepped off the elevator, Kate drew in a deep breath and joined him.

To no surprise the apartment was masculine and the perfect bachelor pad for someone who obviously reveled in having everything just the way he wanted them. Silently, Kate followed Graeme through the apartment to the bathroom, her mouth dropping open as she took in the opulence of the master bath.

Kate watched as Graeme began to strip off his jacket and tie.

Is this it? She wondered. Are we doing this now? Here? I look like a drowned rat!

His shirt joined the jacket and tie and Kate blushed as her eyes traveled over his bare torso.

"Dear god," she muttered, her eyes following the contours of his muscles. How was it possible, let alone fair to the rest of the human race, for one man to look so good? From the light tangle of hair on his well-muscled chest to the line of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his slacks, Kate could not stop gaping at the man before her.

As if he could sense her awe, Graeme moved towards her, his body moving with the grace of a jungle predator stalking its prey. His eyes on hers, his gaze never faltering, as if he were challenging to look away. But she didn't...indeed she couldn't look away. And then he was there, in front of her, his hands on her hips and his eyes, oh god those eyes, moving from hers to her lips and back again. The heat of his touch burned through the dress, scorching Kate's skin. The moment crackled, mirroring the lightening that speared the sky. And then his lips were on hers, claiming hers in a way that dared her to push him away. His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her head back, demanding more. Kate answered him, parting her lips as his tongue probed, seeking entrance. The moan bubbled deep in her throat as his tongue brushed hers, letting her taste the scotch he'd had at the restaurant. Her hands gripped his shoulders, holding him close as he forced her head back.

Finally the need for air forced Kate to pull back. Gasping, she rested her head on Graeme's chest as she fought to catch her breath.

"Fuck," she whispered, one hand slipping down to rest over Graeme's heart, her fingers toying with the dark curls there. Her legs shook beneath her. If this was what a simple kiss did to her, what the hell would happen when they finally fucked? Forcing herself to step back, Kate turned away from Graeme as she struggled to collect her thoughts.

"I think...I think I'll dry off now." She croaked, her voice quavering with the desire she could barely tamp down. She waited until she heard the door close behind him before unzipping her dress with shaking fingers.

After taking her time to dry the rain from her skin, Kate wrapped a plush robe around her, tying it tightly around her naked form. Her dress and bra hung over the shower bar, dripping steadily into the tub beneath. Kate felt sensual and sexy as she made her way towards the kitchen, the soft cotton of the robe rubbing against her naked body. Passing through the living room, Kate riffled through the purse she had abandoned on the floor by the couch, gathering the supplies she would need.

"I hope you don't mind, but I thought I'd record this," she said as she moved into the kitchen and set the small, hand-held tape recorder on the granite top of the breakfast bar beside her notebook and pen. Old school, certainly, but Kate liked things that way.