declared.
“It looks like we’ll be seeing an overall profit this year, despite the economy. I’m going to adjust the employee bonuses accordingly and bump up the healthcare contribution. Oh, Tessie Maddox in Shipping had twins. Can you believe it? That poor girl. Her husband’s not worth the time of day, but I notice Jesse over in Receiving has been babysitting for her, running her errands. I’m not one to argue with the ‘what God has brought together, let no man tear asunder,’ but I tend to think that hormones brought Tessie and her husband together, not divine power. Jesse’s a much better match for her. I guess we’ll see if Tommy Lee becoming a father will make him a man.”
She thought then of Dale, what he’d said about being a man. She was mature enough to know one heroic rescue at a gas station didn’t guarantee he was a man a woman could count on a hundred percent—heroism in a relationship was sometimes as much about being there to help unload the dishwasher as to rescue her from a mugging—but it was an impressive start.
Of course, what she was considering with respect to him, was it the same thing as pursuing a serious relationship? If she went the way her mind was going on it, it was definitely safer to keep this a compartmentalized thing, restricted by a lot of boundaries that wouldn’t cross into her daily life. Many club sessions fit into that mold. Two people coming together for a specific purpose, a mutual need, for a couple of hours once a week or even less often. Sometimes those people were married to other people, or, if the person they played with was their significant other, the club was the only place they exercised the Dom or sub tendencies.
No matter her thoughts on the long term, it was smart to approach it that way from the beginning. If it evolved beyond that, fine; she’d cross that bridge when it became necessary, but it was best to start with low expectations, one focused goal.
But what was her goal? With Dale, even during that brief moment in the potting shed, things tended to get off track, started to cycle around his indomitable will, not because he was imposing it on her, but because she slid under it like an umbrella in a rain storm.
“Mrs. Summers?” Her cell beeped, the speaker feature turned on. “Your guest is here.”
“Thank you, Lynn. Show him to the gazebo and make sure he has a drink. Bring out the hors d’oeuvres. I’ll be right there, soon as I wash my hands.”
Time had escaped her. Glancing at her slim gold watch, she realized he was right on time. “Well, here goes, Roy. I’m nervous as a girl on her first date. I bet you’re laughing, old man.”
She kissed her fingertips, pressed them to the foot of the statue. “I love you, baby.” Then, pushing aside the familiar weight of sadness, she moved away from the area, headed for the guest house behind the pool area. She washed her hands, checked her hair and makeup. Removing the coveralls she’d been wearing to protect her blouse, she slipped on the skirt she’d hung up in there earlier, prepared for this eventuality.
With any other guest, she would have been waiting near the door to personally greet them. A twinge of hostess guilt struck her for not doing the same with Dale. However, she’d been jumpy as a cat since noon, so she’d needed to do something. She could lie to herself, say it was the residual tension she sometimes nursed after board meetings, mostly due to dealing with personalities like Mel’s, but the truth was it was all about Dale.
She’d thought long and hard about the question she’d ask him. There was no requirement that she ask it, but she already knew she was going to do so. As a result, tiny manic frogs were jumping in her stomach.
Beyond that, for the first time in over two years, an attractive man she desired was coming to have lunch with her, and his parting words were practically branded in her mind—
at this stage of the game . . . I have a feeling
“It looks like we’ll be seeing an overall profit this year, despite the economy. I’m going to adjust the employee bonuses accordingly and bump up the healthcare contribution. Oh, Tessie Maddox in Shipping had twins. Can you believe it? That poor girl. Her husband’s not worth the time of day, but I notice Jesse over in Receiving has been babysitting for her, running her errands. I’m not one to argue with the ‘what God has brought together, let no man tear asunder,’ but I tend to think that hormones brought Tessie and her husband together, not divine power. Jesse’s a much better match for her. I guess we’ll see if Tommy Lee becoming a father will make him a man.”
She thought then of Dale, what he’d said about being a man. She was mature enough to know one heroic rescue at a gas station didn’t guarantee he was a man a woman could count on a hundred percent—heroism in a relationship was sometimes as much about being there to help unload the dishwasher as to rescue her from a mugging—but it was an impressive start.
Of course, what she was considering with respect to him, was it the same thing as pursuing a serious relationship? If she went the way her mind was going on it, it was definitely safer to keep this a compartmentalized thing, restricted by a lot of boundaries that wouldn’t cross into her daily life. Many club sessions fit into that mold. Two people coming together for a specific purpose, a mutual need, for a couple of hours once a week or even less often. Sometimes those people were married to other people, or, if the person they played with was their significant other, the club was the only place they exercised the Dom or sub tendencies.
No matter her thoughts on the long term, it was smart to approach it that way from the beginning. If it evolved beyond that, fine; she’d cross that bridge when it became necessary, but it was best to start with low expectations, one focused goal.
But what was her goal? With Dale, even during that brief moment in the potting shed, things tended to get off track, started to cycle around his indomitable will, not because he was imposing it on her, but because she slid under it like an umbrella in a rain storm.
“Mrs. Summers?” Her cell beeped, the speaker feature turned on. “Your guest is here.”
“Thank you, Lynn. Show him to the gazebo and make sure he has a drink. Bring out the hors d’oeuvres. I’ll be right there, soon as I wash my hands.”
Time had escaped her. Glancing at her slim gold watch, she realized he was right on time. “Well, here goes, Roy. I’m nervous as a girl on her first date. I bet you’re laughing, old man.”
She kissed her fingertips, pressed them to the foot of the statue. “I love you, baby.” Then, pushing aside the familiar weight of sadness, she moved away from the area, headed for the guest house behind the pool area. She washed her hands, checked her hair and makeup. Removing the coveralls she’d been wearing to protect her blouse, she slipped on the skirt she’d hung up in there earlier, prepared for this eventuality.
With any other guest, she would have been waiting near the door to personally greet them. A twinge of hostess guilt struck her for not doing the same with Dale. However, she’d been jumpy as a cat since noon, so she’d needed to do something. She could lie to herself, say it was the residual tension she sometimes nursed after board meetings, mostly due to dealing with personalities like Mel’s, but the truth was it was all about Dale.
She’d thought long and hard about the question she’d ask him. There was no requirement that she ask it, but she already knew she was going to do so. As a result, tiny manic frogs were jumping in her stomach.
Beyond that, for the first time in over two years, an attractive man she desired was coming to have lunch with her, and his parting words were practically branded in her mind—
at this stage of the game . . . I have a feeling
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