Lets Make A Bet Ch 01 02

[Author's Note: This is the beginning of this relationship, things may start off somewhat slowly but will intensify as things progress. Feel free to include comments/suggestions/requests as I'm always looking for inspiration. Enjoy.]

-MRF

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Chapter One

I work as an independent contractor, usually from the comfort of my own home. I enjoy my job, the self reliance, answering to no one but myself, having to build something from nothing. In fact, if I were to describe myself in a few words, there is no doubt in my mind that the first term I would use would be 'fiercely independent'. It's a point of pride. I have tried more traditional jobs when I was younger but I couldn't cut it. Anything to do with authority, even simple things, made something inside of me react dramatically. I had a natural and thriving instinct for rebellion, if even just out of spite.

This is how I knew myself, for as long as I can remember. I scoffed at doting partners and timid people pleasers. Not because I thought myself better but because I couldn't fathom that perspective. That was until a few months ago. Since the events I'm about to describe to you, I would've bet my left leg that there was no part of me that ached to please. That begged to be dominated. That could be so addicted to someone.

I wish I could tell you everything about him, describe him in great lingering details. I would relish the chance to meditate this man. But the truth is, I don't know much. When we met, I thought it was by chance but now I doubt that. I doubt that he leaves anything to chance. Everything he did and said to me was a matter of fact - as if he had traveled from the future and already knew precisely how I would respond. That part really hasn't changed much.

The evening we met I had been coaxed out of my apartment for a friend's party. Isla had just come back from an artist convention where she had gained quite a following. So much so that a local gallery had asked to show some of her work upon her return. And so, begrudgingly, with admittedly minimal effort in my own appearance but genuine excitement for my friend I showed up to her party. It was more crowded than I had anticipated, filled mostly with strangers of surprisingly varied appearances. Even so, I felt underdressed. After an enthusiastic greeting from Isla she disappeared into a crowd and I made my way to the bar. I sipped my drink and scanned the gallery as I people watched. I assumed my tried and true "resting bitch face" to keep extroverts and horny drunks at bay but to no avail. It didn't take long before a greasy young guy in his mid 20's approached me with a smirk. I could feel him staring me down - no doubt attempting to show me how confident he was, unblinkingly "alpha" when in reality he looked in desperate need of a powerful laxative. Avoiding eye contact so as not to unintentionally engage him I not-so-subtely turned my back to him, hoping he was bright enough to take the hint. Instead, he saw that as a challenge.

"Hello, beautiful."

I ignored him and took another slow sip of my drink, as if to ask it for the patience I knew I would need.

"Are you deaf or shy?" He tried again, with a bit too much attitude than I could take.

"Are you dumb in general or just incapable or reading body language?" I bit back.

His mouth dropped a little but I could see his surprise turning to anger as he geared up for a snappy come-back.

"Shh-shh, don't bother." I waved him away "Although, friendly tip - I smelled you before I saw you. Lay off the body spray."

I finished my drink in a gulp. Set down my glass and walked passed him. It wasn't until I was on the other side of the gallery that I bothered to look back, curious if he would surrender or follow me so he could defend his ego. But I didn't see him. I didn't see much of anything. All I saw was a new man standing near the bar, older than me by a few years, dressed well and who seemed entirely focused in my direction. I shifted uncomfortably, stepping to the side to test if he was looking passed me. His deep blue eyes followed me. He seemed relaxed, almost like he was weighing me up from across the room. I tried to give him an annoyed look but my muscles tensed. My discomfort was apparent. He seemed somewhat amused at this. I suppressed the immature desire to flip him off and tried to focus on a piece hung up nearby. I still felt his gaze on me. A sort of heat emanating from his direction.

I tried to lose myself in Isla's art but I couldn't bear it for very long. When I turned to address this man head on I saw the most intense gaze that I had ever experienced looking back at me. It swallowed me. The room, the sound of the crowd, the lighting - everything swirled away in a gentle haze. It was as if I could hear his voice in my head asking, "Well?" I physically felt myself drawn to him. I actually took a step towards him before I caught myself. He must've been standing behind me while I was at the bar and I must have been so distracted that I hadn't noticed. But now I saw him, standing tall in a well fitted shirt over his broad shoulders and a suit jacket. He had dark hair with a slight wave combed back so that only a few thick strands fell over his face. But that did nothing to hide the deepest yet brightest blue eyes I have seen. They reminded me of images I'd seen of glaciers in the arctic. Even from across the room, I could feel his sharp gaze in the pit of my stomach. I was hypnotized. I would have stared for days but a hand came out of nowhere and jolted me out of my trance-like reverie.

"Kat? Are you alright?" Isla tried to smile but she seemed concerned.

"Hm, what? Why - I mean, yes. I'm fine. I just - uh..." I quickly turned back to find him, already I felt like I was going through some kind of withdraw, but he was gone.

"Babe, I think you ought to sit for a minute. You seem flushed." Isla tried to guide me towards a chair in the corner but my feet had begun moving towards the bar before I even realized it.

"I'm good, I'm good. I just want some water." I gave her a weak smile although I'm not sure she saw it because I didn't bother turning my face towards her. I kept a steady eye on the spot where he had been. At least at that point, without his direct gaze, I could collect myself a little. I took a deep breath and slowly let my eyes oscillate back and forth across the room, attempting to be casual about it. But he was nowhere to be found. I stifled a wave of panic as I continued to search. I began to get angry at myself. Angry for getting upset over something so silly, for being so irrational but mostly for having looked away.

I couldn't stomach staying much longer after that. Once I was sure he was gone I felt wound up and increasingly claustrophobic in the gallery. After a quick goodbye to Isla I stepped out into the brisk night air. I paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. Part of me needed a minute to prepare before stepping away from what had happened. I was still flushed but now I was collected and resolute to let the whole bizarre incident become a strange memory I made my way down the block. I still craved that feeling, as if I had been possessed by the dark handsome stranger but by then I had begun to feel more like my old self. I reminded myself how much I valued the independence and freedom of living without attachments. Besides, I had just downed that drink, it was probably stronger than I had realized and was the thing that was really responsible for the dazed experience. I was nearly ready to turn the corner when a single sharp horn blasted from across the street. I turned to see a silver Aston Martin idling with its lights on. I'm not sure how but I knew it was him. I could feel it. I felt that same magnetic pull practically dragging me towards the car. I smiled despite myself knowing that I could have another fix of whatever the hell that had been. I took a few steps before remembering to stop for traffic.

"Okay, so what if it is him?" I scolded myself. "Get it together." But I couldn't help myself. Robotically, I waited an appropriate amount of time until I was safe from oncoming traffic and then I stepped further out into the street.

"What are you doing?" I asked myself. "You think he just wants to chat beside his car? You are not, absolutely not about to get into this stranger's car." I let those thoughts comfort me, as if they were true while I steadily crossed the road. I was craving it, that connection I had felt in the gallery and to be honest, I was willing to sacrifice some pride to get more of it. The voice of reason faded away the closer I got. I felt charged up from adrenaline, like I was standing at the edge of a cliff, ready to jump. I stopped several feet in front of his car - the windows were tinted and the headlights prevented me from discerning who the driver was through the windshield. I stood there, absentmindedly shivering in the sharp night air, holding my breath with anticipation although my face remained stoic and unflinching. "Okay, I'm starting to understand adrenaline seeking behavior." I thought to myself.

He let me stand there for several minutes, unmoving. I began to chastise myself for being stupid, for staring at some poor unsuspecting stranger who happened to honk their horn at the wrong time and attract a desperate lunatic woman who then blocked in their car and stared them down. My foot just about lifted to step away when the passenger door swung open.

"Don't get in the car, Kat." I thought to myself. "Don't be an idiot. Do you want to get raped and murdered?" I felt my breath leave me and spiral into dissipating cloud. I could feel that same radiating warmth coming from the car, it was stronger now that the door was open. "Fuck it." I thought, "What's the worst that could really happen?"

Chapter Two

I sat facing forward, careful not to look at him because I knew if I did, I would stare. I concentrated on breathing steadily, so as to give the impression that I was perfectly at ease. In truth I wasn't frightened, I was exhilarated. There was something about acting so out of character, not to mention being so close to him. It didn't make much sense, sure I was attracted to him, but that wasn't what was so alluring about him. I felt like I could feel him on a different level. I didn't bother to think rationally about any of it, I just breathed it in. He didn't speak or acknowledge me, he simply began driving. After a few minutes, it seemed almost that he had sincerely forgotten I was there. I began to feel foolish.

"Where are we going?" I asked with a deceivingly steady voice. I detected a slight smirk but that was all the response I got. At that point, I felt that old reliable disdain for such self consumed behavior.

"Okay then." I turned my attention out the window. "Just let me out."

His deep voice filled my head in what sounded like a rumble, "You can get out once we get there."

I was taken aback at the sound of his voice. He kept a steady gaze on the road as he maneuvered through the city streets. After a second, I remembered myself and my eyebrows arched in defiance.

"You're going to stop me?" I said fingering the door handle as if threatening to open it while he sped along the street.

He almost chuckled. "We both know I won't have to. Be still, we're nearly there."

I bristled at the command but was soothed at the prospect of making it to our destination and learning more about him. While curiosity had clearly gotten the better of me but another part was simultaneously furious that I was putting myself in such a stupid position and that I was subjecting myself to such a patronizing individual. I turned my attention back out the window as if to act disinterested in him, all the while I was soaking in the smell of his car, his smell. A musky but clean scent. I closed my eyes to take it in when I swear I heard him chuckle. We rode in silence for several more minutes before he pulled into a long driveway, at the end of which was an enormous hotel lit in the darkness with a golden haze that perched out of the fog.

Attendants opened our doors and gave us each a stiff greeting. He said nothing but made his way toward the towering double doors without hesitation, leaving me behind in the cold and confusion. I opened my mouth to protest just before I realized his point.

"Fine." I thought to myself. I gripped my elbows tightly against the chill and caught the sound of music playing from inside the hotel. I could feel gentle waves of warmth escape each time the doors were opened.

"Fuck it." I said again, aloud this time. And turned on my heel in the direction of the hotel's entrance

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Chapter Two

The interior of the hotel made me feel ridiculous for feeling out of place at the gallery. I had traces of mud covering my boots and parts of my leggings. My skirt was faded under the plain blouse wrapped in thick coat with frayed edges. I was all about comfort. But this place was clearly an extravagance for people who valued presentation. The detail was borderline manic but still managed to convey a homey, yet sterile professional grace. The staff were the kind that could hide their internal dialogue well since not one of them gawked at my clothing or overall demeanor. I managed to collect myself and embraced the lucidity of the situation as I slowly wandered through the lobby absorbing the grandeur of it all. After a few minutes a young male attendant in an impeccable uniform approached me.

"Miss?"

I eyed him for a moment trying to predict if he was about to try to politely escort me off of the premises.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Hearst is requesting your company in the dining room." I laughed to myself. "Requesting." I repeated

"Yes, Miss."

"Alright." I said, feeling my stomach tighten as it does before a plunge, "Where might the "dining room" be?" I said dryly.

"This way, please."

He was seated in a corner booth, a drink within reach and his phone in hand. The attendant stopped several feet away from him and gestured before leaving without making eye contact. I pushed my tongue into the tip of my teeth as I smiled, trying to stop myself from saying something too rude, too quickly. At this point I was amused. Just because he was an admittedly handsome well-off guy, this is how he behaved? What an utter narcissist. I wanted nothing more than to push his buttons and leave him in a tantrum. It would be a good end to this bizarre evening. I stopped at the edge of the table before snidely asking,

"Mr. Hearst, is it?"

He ignored my tone. "Sit."

"I won't be staying."

"What was the point of coming here to tell me that?"

I snickered. One point to him. I took a moment and then sat down, eyeing him without trying to hide it.

"It's rude to stare." He said coolly.

"Oh are you suddenly worried about being rude?" I responded flatly.

At that he met my gaze. There was that undivided attention I had had in the gallery. He seemed to have an intensity that could consume a person whole. I could feel my cheeks redden.

"Why are you here?" He asked me.

"I needed a lift." I said sarcastically, without missing a beat.

Another chuckle. "I doubt you live anywhere near here." He said it as if he was trying to get a rise out of me but I wouldn't give it to him. I leaned back calmly but I needed to break his gaze so I turned to look for a waiter. Before I had to chance to register his presence, a server approached with a silver tray holding the same drink I had had in the gallery.

"Somebody pays attention." I muttered loud enough for him to hear as I plucked up the drink. I took a deep sip and returned his gaze, recharged.

"You're avoiding the question." He said, adjusting slightly in his seat.

"Or I'm disinterested in it."

"Yes, you clearly seem bored to tears." He smiled as the redness in my face deepened.

"Let me rephrase." He set his phone down once and for all. "Why did I bring you here? Try your best not to deflect."

I stared at my drink for a second, compelled to give an answer.

"I wasn't sure, initially."

"And now?"

"You want something...clearly" I said quieter than I had meant to.

He leaned back in his seat and smiled. He took his time, watching me before asking,

"What do I want?"

"I'd bet a hug and a good cry." I wanted to see his face darken with embarrassment but the intensity of his gaze only increased.

"What is it that I want, then?" I challenged, a little disturbed by his unwavering composure.

"To be fucked. Properly." he said plainly. Somehow when he said it, it didn't sound like a greasy line. It didn't sound like some cheap frat bro, either. It was just a fact.

I waited a beat too long before scoffing.

"I was hoping you'd be a little more forthcoming." He said obviously amused that he had shaken me.

"Why else would you get into my car? Why else would you be sitting here?"

"Free drink?" I offered, taking another gulp.

"Something you could've gotten that back at the gallery." he said withdrawing his attention for a moment as he glanced out into the dining room. He seemed bored by this exchange. He looked at his watch and then began again,

"Come here."

I looked at him like he was crazy.

"Don't worry, I promise not to touch you. Come here." He commanded.

It was true that I wanted to be closer to him. I wanted to smell him again, let that soak into me like it did in his car. I also wanted to stand up to his challenge. I didn't want him to think he had me scared. I slid my drink aside and straightened my posture.

"Do you really think that you're just oh so intimidating that I have to run away from you?" I met his gaze and I relied on my hands to push myself closer to him because my legs had gone weak.

"I hate to break it to you," I told him "but I hate arrogant men."

He smirked. "Clearly."

"It's true." I pushed back.

By this point I was right beside him. His attention had followed me as I made my way to only an inch or so away. I hadn't realized how much larger he was than me. I had to admit at that point that I was intimidated. He was more muscular than I had realized and nearly twice as large as I was. But that was nothing compared to his gaze. Those clear blue eyes transfixed onto mine, it wasn't as if he was staring, just incredibly tuned it. Focused. Reading my thoughts.

"Would you like to make a bet?" he asked in that familiar deep low rumble.

Again, I responded in a softer tone that I would have wanted.

"What kind of bet?"

He raised his hand up and brought it near my waist. True to his word he hesitated before touching me. His eyes waited for my response before continuing. I nodded. His firm warm hand made contact with my waist and I could feel the excitement radiating from that spot. He leaned in closely but remained a few inches away from my face. With the same low commanding voice he whispered,

"Pull down your leggings."

My face blushed immediately. I opened my mouth to insult him but his grip on my side tightened slightly and he clicked his tongue.

"Do as your told."

I stared at him defiantly, ready to spit acid as soon as I gathered myself but also failing to move away. I didn't want to. I felt a ripple of excitement at the thought of lowering my leggings for him - I wanted to do as he said, at least for that moment because as much as I hated the thought of giving in, he was right, his presence filled me with undiluted lust that I needed to feed. His gaze was steady as he watched me struggle to decide.

"I won't tell you again." He said, leaning closer. It was as if doing what he wanted became a challenge. He was trying to prove that I wouldn't, that I couldn't. But somehow I did want to. I was determined now. I glanced beyond the table to the rest of the dining room where no one was paying us any attention. I brought my eyes back to him, took a deep breath, and leaned further into him so that our lips were nearly touching. I used my thumbs to hook the edges of my leggings from under my skirt and with a slight but graceful bounce I managed to pull my leggings down to my thighs.