I awaken to a savory aroma filling the air of our suite. Dinner, I assume. Reaching to the nightstand, I grab my phone--it reads 6:45 p.m.
I rub my hands over my face; the effects of the drinks from earlier have worn off. I can hear Dallas and The Admiral chatting in the kitchen. I can't make out their words, but the conversation sounds casual.
I slip out of bed, heading for the shower, hoping to work up the nerve to face them. The liquid courage helped me earlier, but now that I'm back to my senses, I'm not sure how I feel about everything that went down.
After my shower, I put my hair in a bun and fix my edges, shaping them into fluffy swirls that frame my face. I put on a yellow mini sundress with spaghetti straps, taking a deep breath before stepping out of the room.
I enter the kitchen, and Dallas and The Admiral are still conversing. It makes me feel like an outsider entering their familial domain.
But Dallas spots me, and his eyes light up when he sees me. "Hey, you're up!"
He's so relaxed. Like the scene from earlier was out of a movie as opposed to our actual lives. I smile back, but a flutter of nervousness keeps me from fully relaxing.
The Admiral turns next; his expression is soft yet sharp. "You look stunning," he says, his voice deep and smooth.
"Thanks," I manage, tucking a loose curl behind my ear. Dallas directs me to sit on the side of the kitchen island facing the stove, so I can watch them prepare the meal.
The way they move around the kitchen is thrilling yet so efficient. Cleaning as they go, handling the tools and utensils with care. I'm mesmerized, watching them meticulously plate the food. It feels like a scene straight from a 5-star restaurant.
The aroma intensifies as The Admiral walks over to my side. His eyes meet mine, and goosebumps effervesce across my skin. He places the dish in front of me his fingertips graze the edge of the dish.
"We wanted to begin the night with something that awakens your senses," he says, his voice like velvet. "This is Ocean's Whisper. Sea urchin crudo, kissed by the citrus tang of yuzu and topped with black caviar. Delicate, yet bold--meant to melt on your tongue and leave you craving more."
He watches me take my first bite, the flavors unfolding on my tongue like a revelation. The smooth, briny uni blends with the sharp yuzu, each note igniting my palate before fading into a lingering, salty finish. The caviar pops delicately, adding a final tease. I catch my breath, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as the sensation overwhelms me.
"It's... incredible," I murmur, breathless.
The Admiral's lips curl into a slow, knowing smile that sends a pulse through me. "Just the beginning," he promises.
They both settle in for the first course. "So, Aiyana, I'm curious what sparked your interest in Anthropology? Was it a particular culture or piece of history?"
I managed to meet his eyes, feeling a warm confidence build inside me. "Yeah. My mother's family is from the Gullah Islands. The Gullah Geechee culture is rich with traditions, language, and history, yet it's underrepresented and at risk of being lost. Documenting and preserving our heritage is personal for me."
The Admiral listens closely, nodding thoughtfully and asking follow-up questions that show genuine interest. He even recommends a few books and resources I haven't heard about or read before. Meanwhile, Dallas seems checked out, his attention absorbed by his phone, scrolling mindlessly with his head propped up by his elbow.
"Sorry, Dallas, I know you've heard me drone over this a million times."
He sighs, "It's all good."
"Why don't I get you both a drink?"
Dallas perks up slightly. "Yeah, that'll be good, I'll take a rum and coke--heavy on the rum."
I smile. "Got it. And you, Admiral? Anything?"
He raises his whiskey glass with a warm smile. "I'm all set, baby girl."
I walk over to the bar cart, grabbing the rum for Dallas. I prepare his drink with plenty of ice, I fill the rest of the glass with rum, a splash of coke, and a twist of lime. Setting it down by his plate, I grab a sparkling water for myself before returning to my seat.
Dallas soon brings over the second course, his grin playful as he places the plate in front of me. The Admiral steps forward, his hand grazing my shoulder as he describes the dish.
"This is Fire's Seduction. Charred Wagyu beef, tender and rich, paired with smoked bone marrow and black garlic purée. Every bite is primal, an indulgence you'll want to savor slowly."
My knife glides through the beef effortlessly. I bring a piece to my lips, and the first bite melts on my tongue--rich, smoky, layered with the marrow's depth. The black garlic purée adds an earthy sweetness, grounding the intensity. I sigh softly, savoring the warmth spreading through me with each bite.
Dallas chuckles. "I think she likes it."
I nod, luxuriating in the experience, taking a moment to process the flavors. "This is Stunning. How am I supposed to go back to campus after this experience?"
I hadn't intended it as innuendo, yet it applied to both the meal and the Admiral. And he must've picked up on it, too, because his gaze darkens, a playful edge flickering in his eyes.
"So...you must have a million stories from your travels in the Navy. What's one that still sticks with you?"
He leans back, considering the question. After a long moment he answers. "The Strait of Malacca stands out--it's one of the most dangerous waterways in the world. Narrow channels, unpredictable weather, and the constant threat of piracy tests even the most seasoned captains."
He continues thoughtfully. "I remember one mission during storm season; the currents were brutal, and a rogue wave damaged part of my ship. My crew trusted me to lead, but I was as terrified as they were."
He shifts his gaze. "That stretch of water taught me the true meaning of respect--respect for nature, for people, and for myself."
He turns his attention to Dallas, who is again consumed with his phone. "And every time I think about it, I'm reminded of how important it is to stay humble and grounded, no matter how much you've done or accomplished." The Admiral shakes his head with slight disapproval, but Dallas doesn't even look up or acknowledge what he's saying.
"Wow, that's fascinating, I'd love to hear more about you, your life, your adventures...."
"We get to all of it." He says with a smile." But first.....dessert" he says drumming his hands on the island top.
The Admiral steps away briefly, returning with the final course. "Forbidden Fruit," he announces, setting the dish in front of me, and the charged air between us feels undeniable.
"Dragon fruit pavlova with passionfruit cream and coconut air," he explains, his voice dipping lower. "Light, delicate, yet impossibly sweet. The kind of dessert you'll want to savor slowly." His gaze holds mine, his words meant only for me. "It's designed to tease your senses, leaving you breathless... and wanting more."
I take a slow bite, the pavlova crumbling under my spoon, giving way to the tart, creamy passionfruit that caresses my tongue. The coconut foam dissolves almost immediately, leaving a whisper of tropical sweetness.
The Admiral leans in slightly, close enough for his breath to graze my cheek. "How does it taste?" he asks, his voice a low burn.
"Like everything, I never knew I needed." His eyes stripped away the last of my defenses.
Dallas shifts, clearing his throat softly. He takes a slow sip from his glass, his eyes never leaving us. As he sets it down, he reaches out and taking my hand into his--a gentle yet possessive gesture over his domain.
"Enjoying everything?" he asks, his tone carrying a subtle edge. His eyes look between mine and the admirals, a faint trace of awareness sparking.
The Admiral's expression remains composed, as he meets Dallas's eyes. An unspoken exchange passes between them, heightening the tension around us.
But the Admiral's presence is overpowering, and Dallas eventually withdraws, retreating into his phone. We finish the rest of dinner in silence.
"Why don't you both go relax? I'll take care of the dishes," I say, gathering our plates.
Dallas gets up without a word, tapping away on his phone as he heads for the hallway.
"Dinner was amazing, Babe. Thanks for being such a great host and sous chef!" I implore, hoping to save face.
"Yeah, whatever. Glad you liked it." He throws a pointed look at his uncle before vanishing down the hall.
I close my eyes and shake my head, wondering how to navigate this increasingly complex situation.
"He'll be fine," the Admiral says. "Dallas has a lot to learn about maturity and self-control. Part of this agreement is his willingness to put others' needs ahead of his own."
"Really? He agreed to that?" I ask, surprised.
"It was part of the arrangement, yes. But agreeing to something and truly understanding it are two very different things. Dallas is still figuring out what that means."
He pauses, his gaze settling on me thoughtfully. "You see, he's always been... impulsive. Quick to chase what he wants without much thought for the consequences. But real strength--real maturity--comes from knowing when to step back, to listen, and to let someone else's needs take precedence."
His eyes search mine, his tone softening. "And that's where you come in, Aiyana. You might be the very lesson he needs."
I hesitate, unsure if I should retreat to the bedroom, but The Admiral rises and steps forward. His large frame looms before me.
"Come with me," he says softly, his hand resting gently on the small of my back as he guides me down the hallway.
My heart thuds in my chest as we move toward the admiral's room. He unlocks the door, revealing a space that is both grand and intimate. Vaulted wooden ceilings draw my eyes upward, while large windows flood the room with warm, golden light.
At the center is a plush, cream-colored bed, its perfectly arranged pillows inviting me closer, a soft blanket draped casually at the foot. The stone fireplace crackles gently, casting a flickering glow over the polished wood floors.
The warmth of the space intensifies the aroma of cedarwood and pine. Everything about the space exudes comfort and intimacy.
"Get on the bed," he insists, his tone smooth and commanding. "Make yourself comfortable." He strolls casually to the closet.
The bed is firm but so comfortable, that the duvet practically melts against my skin.
When he returns, he's wrapping a navy silk robe around his otherwise bare form. I catch a glimpse of his abundant member, and my breath hitches.
"First things first, I love that dress on you," his tone is sincere. "But I need you to take it off. I don't want it ruined during our next activity."
I gulp down a deep breath. Anal.
