Nicole stood in front of the mirror, satisfied with the prim pink, ankle-length dress she had chosen for her first encounter with Brad – her blind date for the evening. She scrutinized her slender frame, running her hands over her hips, and sighing at her ample breasts, which she viewed as being too small. Finally, she slid her finger across the outline of her lips, sure to catch any lipstick smudges. Her chestnut hair was pinned up with perfect ringlets cascading around her cheeks, and her green eyes sparkled innocently. She smiled at her reflection as she grabbed her purse. On her way out the door, she gave her cat, Gus, a quick pet, took a deep breath, and closed the door behind her, not knowing what to expect.
She didn't know what had driven her to seek out a dating service, other than sheer loneliness. She had a telecommuting job, which only necessitated a trip to the office two or three times a month. Aside from those few trips, she really had no communication with the outside world, at least on a personal level. Nicole was a very solitary person, but she could only endure so much solitude. She yearned to have someone to cuddle with on a rainy day; someone who would keep her feet warm at night; someone to fill desires within her that she dare not speak of.
Brad waited patiently by the fountain in the middle of Garver Park, holding a single purple passion rose. He awaited his date's arrival with great anticipation. He had chosen her out of all of the other women interested in his profile because he knew she was just right for what he had in mind. Tall and confident, Brad was a brawny man. His shoulders were wide and strong, his hair a dark ebony, and his eyes the gray of a sky just before the storm.
He saw her wandering aimlessly in the distance, recognizing her by the long, pink dress she had described to him over the phone. He smiled to himself, allowing her to mill around, searching for him. She put her hands up over her eyes, to see in spite of the setting sun, and nearly tripped on a steep incline, causing one of her high-heels to come flying off. Brad had decided that enough was enough and rushed over to help her.
"Excuse me, miss, is this your shoe?" He asked in a suave, low tone.
Her face reddened deeply. "Yes, thank you." She took the shoe from his hand, barely making eye contact with him, and placed it clumsily back on her foot.
"Are you looking for someone?" He offered, "You seemed as though you were searching for something or someone . . . I only assumed . . ."
"Y-yes," she cut him off, "Yes I am. I am supposed to meet a gentleman here by the name of Brad. He is supposed to be waiting for me over by that fountain," she pointed, "but as you can see, he is not here. I've wasted my evening and made an idiot out of myself. Now, if you'll be so kind as to excuse me, I just want to go home."
Brad could see the tears beginning to well up in her eyes. He took her face in his palm and tilted it up to meet his eyes. Producing the rose, he announced, "You must be Nicole. I'm Brad."
She smiled sheepishly. "I am so embarrassed."
"Sometimes a little shame can free your spirit . . . let loose that which you try so desperately to hide," he said cryptically. A sly smile crept across his face and his fingers began to caress her blushed cheeks, delighting in their warmth.
His statement made her uneasy. Creepy as it sounded for a first date, her knees were trembling all the same. She was glad that she had thought ahead and packed her pepper spray in her purse. Just in case.
Brad walked her over to a picnic he had prepared by the fountain, complete with champagne and tier candles. The scene was beautiful and she began to relax as they sat down to enjoy each other's company. Over finger sandwiches and various fruits, they made small talk. Brad learned about her job in marketing and Nicole learned about his career as an artist.
"What type of art, exactly, do you produce?" She asked.
"The most beautiful art known to man," he responded with that same devious smile.
"Well, if you don't mind my saying so," she answered, irritated, "that sounds like a very arrogant statement." She swallowed hard on her champagne.
"It's not for me to be arrogant about," he said. "You see, the art itself is not of my creation. I just create the canvas. The art creates itself." He could tell by her expression that she was confused. "Look," he sighed, "I have an exhibit going on tonight that runs all week and I thought of taking you, if you're interested, but I should warn you that it may not be exactly your cup of tea . . ."
"Nonsense," she replied. "Of course I'll go! Art is art! I love art in all of its forms and I can't wait to see your talent." She had always wanted to date an artist and reasoned that the artist persona must explain his eccentricities. Besides, he was sooo gorgeous and he spoke as though his words were dancing. Even if he was a little strange, her whole being found him strangely enticing and dangerously intoxicating.
He packed up what was left of their picnic dinner and led her to his SUV. From there, they drove for what seemed like an hour.
"Where did you say this exhibit is exactly?" She asked, beginning to get extremely nervous. She pictured in her head every awful story she had been told about abduction and murder happening to her, and no one being the wiser.
"It's far out of town. It's very secluded," he responded, straightforward. "You'll understand in about . . . mmm . . . two more minutes when we arrive." He smirked to himself, glancing at her near-panicked state.
She stared out of the passenger-side window, into the darkness. There seemed to be a building emerging with . . . yes . . . cars, oh thank God! She breathed a sigh of relief. As they pulled into the gravel parking lot, she looked around. There were literally no buildings or homes around for miles. It struck her as extremely odd that there would be an art exhibit in the middle of nowhere, but then, he had told her that she would understand and as difficult as it was, she was learning to trust his word.
They walked to the front door where an imposing doorman stood guard. Brad approached the doorman, whispered something in his ear, then took Nicole's arm. The doorman opened the large black doors, and they entered.
Instantly, Nicole's eyes were assaulted. There were several mini-stages with nude and semi-nude people on them performing various sexual acts. She gasped and averted her eyes, turning to leave.
Brad grabbed her elbow. "Wait!" He commanded, "Give it a chance. You wanted to see my art. This is it. Don't turn away; open your mind! I'm not asking you to participate in the exhibits, but should you choose to, that is an option . . ."
"Ugh!" She snorted, disgusted, her back still to him. "I would never! This is an outrage! How dare you even suggest that . . ." She felt his grip leave her elbow, and spun around to look at him. He was gone. Now, if she wanted to leave, she would have to find him.
Shocked and irritated, she stood defiantly for a few moments. "I will not play this little game. I am just going to stand here until he decides it's time to leave." Slowly, she began to realize once again that she was in the middle of nowhere with a group of strangers. Brad was her only escape. She had to find him.
She anxiously wandered back into the exhibit room, attempting to avert her eyes from the various stages. She read the welcome sign, " 'BDSM: Explore Your Power' by: Brad Pendleton." The moans from the first exhibit called to her curiosity and she couldn't help but sneak a peek. A nude woman, bound in stocks, was being fondled by a fully clothed member of the audience. He ran his hands across her large, supple breasts and then, softly over her perfectly round ass. With one hand, he slapped her firmly, then rubbed the redness as she moaned. His fingers found their way between her legs as his tongue slid up her back.
