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Kristen's Surprise
    Between my normal day at work and the crazy drivers on the ride home, I'd almost forgotten that today was the big day. Seeing Jake's truck in my driveway as I neared my house reminded me though, and my insides gave an odd flip at the reminder. After nearly two years of dating, and a few months of discussion, Jake was moving in with me, taking our relationship to that mile-stone of the “next level.”
     
    It made sense. It felt right. Still, I couldn't help but feel a bit of unease at the newness of it all. After we'd decided to cohabitate, we'd had a brief debate of who would move and quickly decided he'd move in with me. My mortgage was almost a third of what he'd been paying for rent and my house was over twice the size of his apartment without even counting my basement.
     
    At the thought of my basement I felt myself cringe. It had been years since I'd played down there and I hadn't thought to look and hide the evidence of my perversions. I really hoped Jake hadn't explored the house too much without me.
     
    Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I turned the car off and made my way to the door. The door opened before I could dig my keys out of my purse and Jake stood there, smiling happily at me. In typical Jake fashion, he scooped me up into a tight hug and kissed me soundly, a kiss I was all too happy to return.
     
    “How was your day, Kristen?” He asked when he finally let me go enough to close the door.
     
    I laughed softly. “Much better after that kiss. Did you get everything moved in?”
     
    “Yeah. You know me, I don't have much anyway.” He shrugged and I rolled my eyes. To say Jake was a minimalist would have been putting it lightly. Though he made more than enough money to spend on the usual man's toys, he preferred to keep his life “uncluttered” and owned very little aside from some clothes and a laptop. Honestly, if he'd had enough to fill up the bed of his truck even once, I would have been surprised.
     
    It was one of several ways we were complete opposites. I've always been a pack-rat, collecting various things and keeping them around the house because I might need something one day. Don't get me wrong, I'm not bad enough that I need to be taken on to a cable television show for a public intervention, but my closets, garage, and attic are always cluttered with things. I smelled something as we stood there and sniffed the air, and another example of our many differences filled my nose. My idea of cooking stopped at the microwave; Jake not only loved to cook, he was great at it.
     
    “You're making dinner?” I asked, a little surprised.
     
    “Yes, chicken parmigiana, your favorite.” He kissed my forehead lightly. “It's got about another 20 minutes till it's ready. Why don't you go change out of those work clothes and do whatever it is you do while I finish?”
     
    “You're too good to me.” I said and kissed him back before I turned and almost immediately received another surprise, a very solid spank on my rear as I walked away. It wasn't the gentle, playful swats Jake would sometimes give me when he was feeling frisky, it was a definite spank. A yelp slipped out of me in surprise, but I kept walking, forcing myself to ignore the urge to bend over and beg for another one.
     
    That had always been another of our differences, sex. Or, to be more specific, kinky sex. I loved it, craved it, but every time I had tried to bring up the subject of bondage or roleplay or anything I considered even remotely kinky, Jake would just shrug it off or make a joke and I'd let the conversation fade away.
     
    All things considered though, even without the kinky fun, the sex was still good, so I told myself I wasn't really missing out on anything. After all, I had a great, caring, respectful guy, he could even cook for crying out loud, so what if I craved a collar around my neck, cuffs on my wrists, and a dominant presence stripping me of my self control for a little while? I