Page 29 of Master Heimdall
I was still surprised with myself for sharing that intimate part of my history with her as I knew absolutely nothing personal about her, at least not that she’d directly shared. I’d looked into her, of course, as I do all employees.
She had a solid father in her life growing up, but that is where anything consistent ended. She’d lived on every continent, in multiple countries. She had a level of experience that retirees would marvel at.
Her personal safety, in fact her entire attitude toward the subject was non-existent. What was it that made her think she could conquer the world without a thought to keeping safe? I was both relieved and impressed that nothing had happened to her yet. Rose wasn’t the problem though, I was, but I wasn’t going to bend on my most basic need. To do so would not be honoring who I was, and therein lay the challenge.
I was putting the finishing touches on the grilled kabobs when the buzzer pulled me out of my thoughts. Opening the door, I found Rose and she’d followed my instructions to dress appropriately.
She wore a skin tight, mini dress that showed all of her best assets. Not only was there not much dress to start with, but there were random cut outs that appeared as rips throughout that teased the senses. I imagined it would be a perfect outfit for clubbing in Germany, or here at a BDSM club.
Fuck, she looked good! I would have rather had Rose for dinner than the three-course menu I’d prepared. Except I was determined to have a nice meal and talk like two people on a date. Get to know each other a bit better before bending her to my will in the bedroom.
“Nice digs.” She stepped through the doorway, her eyes instantly appraising my place. “I should have known you’d have the penthouse.”
“Welcome. You’re just in time,” I said, changing direction. “Your table awaits, my lady. I hope you won’t be too cold in that, er, dress, to sit outside.” I grinned as I said it so she knew I meant no offense. I also had outdoor heaters and knew she’d be fine regardless, but the words were meant more for me to keep me grounded in our date and not what would come after which my cock reminded me of every time my eyes dropped down to her luscious ass.
“Fortunately for me, I know a big man with a lot of body heat.” She gave me a once over, making it clear she meant me.
“Touché. Now, let me escort you to your table, Madam.”
I wrapped my arm around hers and led her out to the patio. Placing a napkin on her lap, I tucked her in.
“I love the service you offer here, Mr… I’m sorry, what is your name again?” Her eyes twinkled with merriment, magnified by the wavering lights of the candelabra on the table.
“Dakos, Mr. Dakos, and welcome to Chez Dakos. I’m sure you’ll find the service and the food to be top tier.”
I wasn’t usually so playful, but without the pressure of being the boss, or the Dom, it was easy to relax in her presence.
Rose laughed, her entire face lighting with humor. She looked so young when she laughed. She was young, about a decade younger than me. What was I doing when I was her age? Oh yeah, right, building my life, my company, and spending time with my brothers. Not birth brothers mind you, but brothers in destiny, or choice or whatever the hell one called it. And one sister, let’s not forget Marissa who rounded us out perfectly.
I poured the wine just as the timer went off for the baked garlic prawns. I slid the sizzling skillet onto a plate and brought it out with a basket of pita bread and homemade tzatziki dip, my mom’s recipe.
Rose looked impressed with our first course. “Wow, what restaurant did you order this from?” she said as she chewed, oohing and aahing as she relished her first bite. I liked that she’d stacked the prawn and dip onto the pita bread and added a bit of the butter from the skillet. When she finally swallowed, her head dropped back like she’d had an orgasm. When she lifted it back up she speared me with a heady stare.
“The prawns are perfect, the dip is the best I’ve ever had and even the bread is as you said, top tier. I could stay here forever and eat that every day.” She sighed contentedly. “Or you could give me the name of the restaurant and I could order out when you come to my place for dinner,” she added with a wink.
“Sorry to disappoint, but if you want food from Chez Dakos then it is eat-in only.”
She looked startled. “You’re kidding me? Wow, You are certainly a keeper then, Mr. Dakos. Whoever you end up with will be one lucky lady.” She had an almost wistful look about her when she said that.
“Or guy,” I added. Her eyes widened and then she broke into peals of laughter. We both knew I wasn’t into men, but it was fun entertaining her.
“You looked like you were having a food orgasm. I take it you are a foodie?” I’d only recently heard that term from Erik’s woman, Raia.
“Oh yeah, feed me and make me orgasm every day and I’m yours for life.” Rose stopped chewing as her words echoed in the space between us. “Uh, I meant that as a generality. I wasn’t assuming you’d, uh. Never mind, there is no fixing this.”
She picked up her wine glass and tossed back its contents in one swallow and leaned back in her chair. “When in doubt, have a drink,” she murmured. Then sat up. “May I have a do over?”
I was enjoying this side of Rose, probably because she rarely exhibited uncertainty.
“By all means.”
I plated a few prawns, butter, a spoonful of tzatziki and two triangles of pita for myself and ate while Rose did her do over, which wasn’t any better than her first try. She redirected by asking me a question.
“Can I ask? How did you meet Mari?”
“At the frat house back in our college days. Jared, you may have heard him referred to as Master Loki at the club, bugged Erik, also known as Master Thor, who runs all three of the clubs, to host a dungeon night. At this point, Erik had discovered that he could pay for college by hosting private parties. Once a month, he’d put on a huge party with a theme. Of course Jared, our resident sadist, wanted a BDSM-themed party and that’s when we met Marissa. She came dressed from head to toe in a leather catsuit with thigh-high boots waving a whip.”
“Seriously? That woman is something else, isn’t she?”