Adrianna's Undies
still there too, close by. And really, the distance is more of a blessing—I don’t have to witness this every day like when I was young.” Adrianna’s father, he recalled, had walked out on the family when she was a very little girl—five or so, if he remembered correctly—after which her mother had begun a relentless search for someone to replace him. Her desperation and unwillingness to stand on her own had always bothered Adrianna, almost to the point of repulsion.
    “Is it so bad that she wants someone to love?” he dared ask. He could only imagine what it was like to be Adrianna’s mother, abandoned with two small children thirty years ago, and it saddened him a little to hear she still hadn’t found what she was looking for.
    “It’s not bad, no,” Adrianna said. “But it’s not everything. A woman needs to have some pride, make a place for herself in the world. I love my mother, but she and I are very different.”
    “Only a fool would argue that,” he replied with his most suave smile.
    He got just the tiniest hint of a knowing smile in return. She still didn’t seem relaxed exactly—in retrospect, he’d chosen a poor topic for that—but she’d softened a little, at least in this particular moment.
    Over dinner, he made more “normal” conversation—he complimented Adrianna on her achievements and asked her questions about her business, assuring her they had nothing to do with his professional interest in it. Although she didn’t ask, he told her how his career had progressed to where it was today, as well. He gave her updates on his parents and two sisters, whom she’d met several times on weekend trips home to St. Louis, and asked her to tell her mother he said hello the next time they spoke.
    Despite all that, though, he remained aroused through the meal. It was fairly impossible to sit next to her, dressed as she was, and not be aroused. Even as they discussed something as innocuous as the merits of living in Los Angeles or her new office building, a vision of her cunt in those sinful crotchless panties would pop to mind, or a memory of her breasts perched high and firm above the corset he’d laced her into. Her nipples continued jutting prettily through that low-off-the-shoulder dress, so he knew she was still excited too.
    “Fondue for dessert,” he told the waiter as their plates were being cleared.
    “I’m not sure I can eat another bite,” she said, touching her palm to that lovely tummy. Which was bound in leather underneath, he reminded himself.
    “You’ll eat it,” he said, quiet but firm, as the waiter departed.
    She looked up, clearly a bit surprised to find they’d re-entered master and slave mode—but it was time to ease back in that direction. And the notion of fondue had given him some naughty ideas.
    “ Won’t you?” he insisted. He phrased it as a question, but his tone told her she’d better agree.
    She hesitated only briefly before replying with a soft, “Yes,” that, for some reason, tightened his cock further.
    The truth was, if this hadn’t been an exercise in teaching Adrianna a thing or two, he’d have her back in his room right now, spreading her legs, driving his stiff shaft deep inside. He’d be running his hands over every lovely inch of her curvy body. This little game he was playing required some discipline on his part, as well. But he remained convinced that if Adrianna could learn to really, truly let someone else take the lead, then later, both of them would reap the rewards.
    * * * * *
    Despite herself, she’d begun to relax, feel a little normal. Okay, yes, she still had those “pleasure knobs” rubbing at her in just the right—or wrong—places, but she sat very still, which helped lower the impact. And yes, she’d just had to tell him she’d eat fondue against her will, but big deal—it was a part of the game she could play without losing anything.
    And sure, she still looked like a hooker and felt eyes all across the

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