"You ever been into erotic asphyxiation?" She asks over the flickering faux candles. She wanted to meet for coffee their first date, but he insisted on dinner.
"Uh, no?" What the fuck, he thinks, Oh my god, what the fuck.
"I'm just messing with you," she says with a sly grin as she picks up her glass and swirls the wine within it.
Of course she's not into that, he assumes studying her makeup-free face, and the bare skin she's offering up on this first date with no discernable tattoos. Surely this is the good girl he's been looking for.
"I hear if you do it right it's the best orgasm you'll ever have," she whispers, licking the edge of her glass.
"Are you into that shit?" he asks impatiently. He's tired of meeting freaks just by swiping right.
"No!" she leans back on the defensive. "I'm doing my dissertation on sexual deviants. Jesus," she huffs. "I'm not a weirdo."
He chuckles uncomfortably. If he only knew, she thinks as she takes a swig of her wine. She knows she needs to work him a little to get him to open up.
"So you're into psychology?" he asks.
"Yes," she says, her interest in him dwindling with each word he speaks.
"So what do you know about these sexual deviants, besides the choking part?" he asks.
Suddenly she's alert. Someone wants to hear about my work? She's floored. "What do you want to know," she asks.
"Well what exactly are you researching? Pedophiles and creepy stuff like that?"
Now's her turn to laugh. "No, specifically fetishes," she says, still laughing.
"Well, like what?" he asks, taking a bite of his steak.
"I don't think you want to know while you're eating. There are a lot of weird ones."
"Try me," he says taking a sip of his wine, his plate now empty.
"You've heard of golden showers, right?" she asks, her voice low.
"Well...yeah," he shrugs.
Her eyes widen and she squeals, "Oh my god, have you done it before?"
"No!" he barks with disgust. "Why would anyone like that?"
"You'd be surprised," she chuckles. "And that's just the tip of the iceberg," she adds before taking another swig of her wine. Already her mind is feeling fuzzy, but this is the first time she's been out on a real date in six months. Watch yourself, she reminds her brain. He's staring at her from across the table, presumably waiting for some sort of elaboration. "I guess what all my research has taught me is that there is no 'normal' in sex," she carefully sets her wine glass down.
"Yeah, I don't think peeing on someone is that normal," he snickers. His ignorance enrages her. She takes another exaggerated swig of her wine.
"Well, I think there are two parameters that define healthy sex," she tips her glass to the side and seductively licks the corner of her mouth.
"And those would be?" he leans in, elbows on the table, suddenly interested.
"Consent," she dips her finger into her glass. "And pleasure," she says licking the wine from her fingertip.
He studies her as she tilts her head to the side and looks him dead in the eye.
"What would you consent to?" he asks, his chin cradled in his hands at this point. Of course he's interested, she's dying inside from excitement. Now we're getting somewhere, she thinks.
"Depends on what you're into," she says with a shrug. "What pleasures you?"
"Uhhh..." he sounds like a dumbass and this bothers her immensely.
How could you not know what you like? she wonders. But suddenly she's a little turned on. The possibilities with this one seem endless.
She slips her foot out of her shoe and slowly slides it up his leg until she reaches his inner thigh. "Does this pleasure you?" she whispers, the wine has won and she's lost her inhibitions.
He sits up, stiff as a board, his eyes wide as she squeezes at his crotch with her toes. "I can feel that it does," she whispers. "Do you like me getting you hard here in front of all these people?"
He does, but he can't bring himself to admit it. This girls is a freak, he thinks, yet he's enjoying her toes curling around his dick.
Suddenly she stops and pulls her foot away. "I'm sorry," she says.
"For what?"
"For not asking for your consent."
"Well, I didn't stop you," his voice is low. She thinks she detects disappointment.
"Do you want to get out of here?" she asks softly.
"What do you have in mind?"
"We could go back to my place," she suggests, trying to sound nonchalant. Nothing is more of a turn off than someone who's too eager.
"Okay," he agrees, trying his best not to grin.
After they split the bill, he leads her toward the front of the restaurant with his hand on her waist. She feels how big his hand is compared to her small frame and she feels warmth between her legs. Outside, their Uber is waiting for them. They climb into the backseat, her first so he can get a good look at her ass.
What am I getting myself into, he wonders. Good girls don't invite men they've just met back to their apartment.
She turns toward him and they lock eyes. Their faces just inches from each other, she feels his warm breath and breathes it in. It's sweet from the mint he grabbed on the way out the door. Suddenly she has the urge to kiss him, but she holds back wanting to see if he'll make the first move. He does and tucks her hair behind her ear, letting his hand linger before leaning in and pressing his mouth to hers. A shiver courses through her body and she's impressed by his boldness.
"Sorry," he whispers, pulling away.
"For what?" she asks.
"I didn't ask for consent."
She giggles, pressing her fingers to her lips. "It's okay, I wanted it," she finally says while squeezing his thigh. He nestles his fingers between her crossed legs. Please go higher, her head is begging. She longs for him to touch her in her most delicate places, to feel his big hands explore her body. But before she lets him, first she has to test him--find out just what he's willing to consent to.
The Uber pulls up to her building and they get out. Once the car drives off, he grabs her by the back of the neck and pulls her toward him. She loves his boldness, but is he adventurous?, she wonders. He leans in and his lips graze hers. "Should we go in?" he breathes softly.
"Mmm hmm," she grabs his hand and pulls him toward the door. They ascend two flights of stairs in silence, her in front of him to lead the way but also so that he can watch her.
"God, you have a great ass," he says, giving it a light squeeze.
She feels a twitch between her legs and hopes this won't be a huge waste of her time. They reach her door and she unlocks it, then grabs him by the shirt and drags him inside.
"Let's go to the bedroom," she whispers. He nods and she pulls him into her room.
Flipping on the lights, she's praying he won't run when he sees the restraints on the bed.
He takes a long look around the room. What the fuck? he thinks when he sees the bed. "Are you for real?"
"Yes," she says seriously, "if you'll let me."
"What? You want to tie me up?"
"Yes. So I can pleasure you without distraction."
"You're crazy," he says with a nervous chuckle.
"Kinky, yes. Crazy, no," she says, playfully tapping his nose with her finger. "I promise I won't do anything you won't like."
"Well, do we need a safe word or something?" He jokes.
