Pony Ride
Melissa walked out of the exercise studio with a towel around her neck, her martial arts jacket bundled up under her arm. Mike had told her it was called a
judo-gi
and had shown her how to tie it into a tight bundle using the long cotton belt.
She was tired, but not as exhausted as she had feared. In fact, she realized she felt energized. Learning from Mike was very different than the session with Amy. "Mistress Amy," she quickly corrected herself.
Walking back to the house, she considered the question Mike had asked her. Was she really willing to kill another person, in order to save her own life? When the question was put so bluntly, the obvious answer was, "yes." But such a simple answer somehow didn't feel comfortable, and she wasn't sure why.
Mike was such an easygoing person. She had a hard time believing that he had killed people during his years in the military, although she knew that he must have. She was having difficulty reconciling all of her perceptions. Mike wasn't at all what she had expected. She had thought that a man with his background would have had a darker, brooding nature, with much more of an alpha-male dominance.
Instead, he was polite, open, enthusiastic, and attentive. "That's it," she said as she suddenly realized what seemed so weird about their interaction. The whole time she had been with him, his focus was only on her. His attention hadn't wandered at all. His focus hadn't felt threatening, and she didn't have any sense that he had been trying to seduce her or play mind games with her. He had simply listened to her, with total interest. He had talked a lot too, but she realized that when he told her something, he had always waited to see if she understood. It had been spooky.
She felt relieved that she had figured out what had been bothering her about their interaction, but that knowledge still didn't help her with the question of whether she was willing to learn how to hurt or kill someone. Mike and Erik did have a point, she thought; she was going to be spending at least some of her career in poor, backwater places -- where she knew life could be violent and cheap. She rationalized to herself that, just because she knew how to be violent as well, didn't mean that she would have to be. Learning what Mike had to teach her seemed like it was probably a good idea.
Entering the main house, she laughed to herself. The reality of how she was struggling over her decision had nothing to do with the 'girl-with-a-gun' image of Lara Croft. Nodding to herself, she realized that the contrast between movie fantasy and her reality was just like how Mike wasn't the Hollywood version of a super soldier or how Erik wasn't some whacked-out sadist. Reality and fantasy were such distant companions, that it seemed to require deliberate stupidity to confuse one for the other.
Looking at the divide between fantasy and reality in that light made Erik's attitude of treating fantasy as though it were a play toy seem like really good idea. By carefully labeling it 'play,' their fantasy life was kept separate from reality. She reminded herself that she had to keep this distinction clear while she was exploring the kink world. "Weird shit indeed," she told herself.
Erik walked out from his room, looked up at her, calling out, "How'd it go?"
She moved down the steps to join him. "It wasn't at all what I expected. Mike's a lot more... thoughtful than I would have guessed. And he's got this weird intensity. I mean, it's like he's really low key and all, but it's also like there was nothing else in the world but me. I didn't notice it until afterward, but it was kind of spooky."
Erik grinned as she joined him. He gave her a quick, unexpected kiss on the lips, and then led her over to a pair of overstuffed leather chairs and ottomans that looked out over the patio and meadow.
Sitting down, he said, "As far as I can tell, it's a Special Forces thing. It must be part of their training. When an SF guy is talking to somebody, that SF guy is really, really listening. I think it's like that whole 'mindfullness' thing that you hear being promoted in seminars on 'being a more effective person,' or some such crap. Only it really seems to work for them.
"Through Mike, I've met some other SF guys, and they're all like that, at least with outsiders. With each other, it's the usual macho, joking-around shit. But even then, when somebody says something important or new, they all stop and listen. No judgmental stuff or one-upping. They just seem to want to take it in and consider what the other person said."
He shook his head. "It's kind of wild. I don't know how they train that behavior into somebody, but I sometimes wish more folks had it."
Melissa nodded, "It was kind of weird... and amazing. I wouldn't have thought that having somebody
really
listening to you was such a big deal, but it definitely felt... different."
"Yep. So what else wasn't what you expected?"
"Mike was a lot more... gentle... and serious than I expected."
She paused, thinking back over her time with Mike. Erik cocked his head, inviting her to continue, so she did. "We talked about how violent some parts of the world can be, and whether learning to be violent in return was a good response. I don't know. I guess it is. But I'm not completely comfortable with it."
She shrugged, then continued, "What surprised me, though, is that Mike was completely okay with my doubts. He's not all macho about it. I don't know... I guess I'll learn what he has to teach me, and then figure out what to do about it when I've had a chance to think everything through. In the meantime, though, I guess I'm grateful for the chance to learn how to protect myself, even if it
is
feeding some twisted adolescent fantasy of yours."
Erik put his hand over his heart, feigning injury. "Forsooth, cruel and vicious woman. You accuse me most heartlessly of foul intent. My twisted adolescent fantasy was the most trivial part of my motivation."
Melissa laughed, "Yeah, and what was the other part of your motivation?"
"Pure, unadulterated lust." His gaze suddenly bore into her, and she felt her heart skip.
She struggled to regain control of her powerless response to his commanding gaze. She took a deep breath as stealthily as she could, trying to hide how much he had thrown her off center. Without any conscious intent of speaking, she found herself countering with, "So what was that kiss all about? Are we girlfriend and boyfriend, or slave and master?"
Erik smiled, seemingly unperturbed by her question. Watching him, Melissa squirmed inside, not believing that she had just blurted out something so direct. Then he answered, "All of that, I hope. Boyfriend and girlfriend, master and slave, plus there's the whole boss and employee thing. I know it's a bit of an uncomfortable mix. Sort of a hobgoblin, really. But it's like I told you, I'm committed to making it work, feeling our way through it, together."
Melissa countered, "If we're boyfriend and girlfriend, at least if that's part of it, then why do I have a separate room... like the maid?" Once again, she was internally appalled at her lack of control, especially in tacking on a barb about living in the maid's room. She gritted her teeth in frustration that she couldn't seem to start speaking without letting an angry comment slip out sideways.
Erik paused again. He had clearly noticed her anger and frustration. "I'm sorry. Giving you your own room wasn't meant to push you away, or demean you. I just... I wanted to give you a place of your own, a space that was yours. I know that I can be intense and that I often move too quickly."
He looked out the windows, across the meadow at the late afternoon sun. Then he turned back to her, "It's your choice, where to sleep, where your clothes are. I would love for you to share my bed, my room. I just wanted to make sure you knew you didn't have to. It seemed important to give you a room of your own, so you had a safe place that was yours."
"Okay. I guess... I understand. Sorry for being all pissy. It's just that I'm sort of scared. Off balance. Not sure where I fit in."
He nodded and smiled. "Right here, on my lap, enjoying a quiet moment at the end of the afternoon."
She felt the tension she had been holding in her shoulders seep away. "That sounds nice." She got up from her chair and stepped across to his.
"Sure you don't want to get those sweaty clothes off first?" His tone feigned innocence, but the twinkle in his eyes made his true intent clear.
She sighed, "Yes Master." She peeled the sports bra off her chest, over her head, and tossed it into the chair behind her. She held his gaze as she reached down and untied the drawstring on her heavy cotton judo-gi pants, letting them slide down her legs. Stepping out of the pants, she straddled his legs that were stretched across the ottoman. "Is this better, Master?"
He smiled, simultaneously contented and hungry, seeming to drink in her beauty. Almost to himself, he quietly replied, "Infinitely better." Reaching forward, he traced a slow, lazy line down her left thigh.
Her sex clenched and moistened at his touch. She continued to be amazed at how he could command her instant arousal. Letting her eyes half close, she swayed closer to him. He reached up and pulled her down to him, his lips brushing softly against hers. Her mouth parted slightly open. He held her motionless above him as he traced the opening of her mouth with his tongue.
As she leaned forward, the softness of her labia pressed hard against the denim fabric of his jeans. She shuddered, feeling her building need. Erik lifted her higher, pulling her forward so he could nibble along both sides of her neck. As she slid forward, she left a wet streak along his pant leg. The weave of his denim sliding against her clitoris had nearly pushed her over the edge. She gasped with a sudden intake of breath as the sensation threatened to overwhelm her.
He chuckled at her response, then kissed and licked along the soft curve between her shoulder and neck, slowly reaching upwards toward her ear. She found herself panting, fighting the urgency building within her pelvis. He chuckled again and raised his leg sharply up, pressing against the heat of her sex, which sent her unexpectedly spiraling over into a pulsating orgasm. She arched her back, throwing her head up, her hair whipping past his face.
When her shudders finally faded, she collapsed, limp against him as he lowered her torso down onto his chest. She snuggled into the clean cotton scent of his camp shirt and murmured, "How can you do that? How do you make me come so quickly?"
His only reply was a gentle stroking of her hair.
