The Note

She sat, idly picking at the few remaining leaves in her salad.  She sat at the periphery of the lunch crowd, an attractive woman who played down her assets.

What could have been a spectacular grouping of curves became muted under the loose-fitting charcoal blazer.  What could have played up her pale skin and beautiful eyes was watered down by the palest of rose blouses. Soft waving hair might have called attention to her, but that too was hidden away, ruthlessly caught and pulled to order in an efficient and vaguely unattractive french knot at the back of her head. No escaping tendrils here to soften her sleek cheekbones. No make-up beyond a thin dash of powder, the faint traces of the pale pink gloss left on her full lips after her meal.

Here in the crowd of glittering people, all looking to be noticed, to be someone, she was invisible.

He saw her. Sitting there in the corner, playing with her fork while waiting for her check. The shaft of sunlight that snuck around the front blinds of the window illuminated her, coloring in all the dark places. Her golden tresses, her smooth skin, the fullness of her mouth.

Over the course of the next week, he came to watch for her. His little wren, he’ d begun calling her in his mind. Submissive? He was sure of it. She was a pleaser. The attention she gave the wait staff, how hard she worked to blend in.

His note was succinct. He gave it to Eric, ordering it to be delivered with her menu.

Please go to the bar. I will find you.

He saw her open the menu, pick up the note. He smiled to himself when her head popped up, scanning the crowd. She turned to the waiter. He watched that lovely mouth moving.  He watched Eric shake his head in answer to her question. He watched her hesitate,  holding the note and rereading it.  He watched her take a deep breath, and rise.

It was time for the dance to begin.


She had no idea who had palmed the note into her menu. Certain it was a mistake, she nonetheless rose from her table, making her way to the bar. She was certain that she would clear this up quickly and get back to her lunch. She rarely took leisure time, eating quickly and returning to her office. She wasn’t driven to mega-success, hated her job in fact, but it paid the bills. She didn’t want to be rich but being poor sucked. She wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted anymore, and that bothered her.

Once she’d had dreams. But they had vanished into the realm of fantasy when she landed the job at Cummerland and Smith. Over time she had put away her fantasies, put away her paints, put away herself, she sometimes thought.

“Young up-and-coming professional meets brick wall of life” she mused.

Shaking off the mood, she smiled down at the note in her hand. Well, now she was breaking her rhythm. She’d figure out what was going on and be happy for the interruption of her boring day…later.

He watched her at the bar, detecting her nervousness by the slightly tapping toe of her nondescript black shoe. Her finger traced around and around the base of her wineglass. When he was sure she’d had sufficient time to “perc” he approached from directly behind her.

Hands on each side of the stool back, he prevented her from turning.

“Don’t turn around. I am pleased you accepted my invitation for a drink.”


“Not yet, patience little girl. Hush. ”

There was a pause, and she listened for him. She felt the heat of his hands where they pressed against the back of her blazer. Was he rubbing his thumbs along her back?

Why was she sitting here letting an unseen stranger accost her? She was ignoring her “city savvy” that said she was inviting trouble…

“I’ve been watching you come in here for quite some time, little one. And I wonder about you. About what you are under all this.”

She felt him pull lightly on her jacket, then his hand stroking down her hair. She felt a tug and before she could raise a hand, her voice, to protest, she felt him pull the pins away.

Her hair fell like a golden waterfall to her mid back. Soft curls danced over his hands, over the back of the stool. He heard her small sound of distress, ignored it as he plowed his hands through the golden mass that frothed between them.

“Oh, little girl, it is very nearly a criminal act to conceal this bounty.”

She felt his hands buried deeply in her hair. It stirred something in her, a fire deep in her loins. It was confusing, to feel this way with a stranger whose face she had yet to see, and yet, she followed his voice, the deep husky hunger of it relaxing her further into his grip.

“Close your eyes, relax and breathe. Feel me. Feel my hands on your head.”

He was close now, his mouth a whisper of breath from her ear.

“Imagine me sliding my hands around your throat, gently squeezing, showing you my full control of you. I control your breath, your heartbeat. Even now I see the pulse increasing. Your heart is sending warm blood around your body, swelling your succulent flesh for me. Your pussy lips all puffy and dewy with your want, your nipples tightening and pushing outward, seeking my attention. Your lips flushed and puffy, needing my teeth to score and nibble them.

Tell me that you don’t want this from me. Tell me you don’t want to feel the heat of my cock piercing you. That you will be happy without knowing how much I will stretch your slick  hole, filling you, driving you up and over the edge of reason. Tell me you can live without  the slap of my balls on your ass, my hands fisting around your tits, my mouth sucking and biting your nipples.

Tell me you don’t want this and I will leave you now, unmolested, untasted, unused.”

The sound of her heart beating wildly was all that filled her ears when he stopped speaking.  Her pussy was wet from his words, she was hot and tingling and so tired of walking on the treadmill of her day-to-day..

“I want this.”

He turned her, kissed her softly, then deeply, fiercely.

Taking her by the hand he led her from the bar, and into the beginning.