Professor's Little Pet

In complete silence, I entered the vehicle.

I was asked, "Are you still haunted by the events of that night?" His voice had an undercurrent of something that could almost be described as vulnerability.

"What? No." My head shook. I certainly didn't feel any regret at all. It was arousal; just looking at him brought back vivid memories of that night.

The question then came, "So what gives, Chloe? Exactly what is the cause of all this hostility?

You always make me feel bad," I told her. I hate it when people make fun of me.

A single, twitching "Pity" escaped his strained lips.

***

Tormod and Oren were having a serious conversation at the bar, and I took advantage of the situation to sneakily observe Oren. He was attractive in a rugged, all-guy sort of way, and I'd forgotten how attractive he was.

Agnes pulled up next to me, wine glass in hand, and said, "So that's Dr. Jacob Bretton." She made a chomsky noise with her whistle. To paraphrase a popular saying, "Some people really do have it all, don't you think? His project is attracting some serious buzz, and then he's a total looker. If you know him at all, how did you meet him?

I explained that we had shared an office in Bismarck. How long does his project last?" "Agnes, you know everything that goes on around here."

She guessed at a duration of eight weeks. "Why?"

"I'm just curious," I pretended. In my mind, there was an idea that could go either way, depending on whether Oren was interested in reliving our night together.

"He's checking you out," she said with a chuckle.

"He is?" Instinctively, I turned to look at him, and our gazes locked. He gave me a friendly nod, raised his glass, and continued talking to Sanjay. I was irritated at first, but then I had to laugh at how silly I was being. Okay. I hoped that he would find me fascinating and invite me to his hotel room. That was a night I wanted to experience again and again. I knew it wasn't the best course of action, but I desperately wanted it anyway.

I said, "I'm going to get another drink," and then I went to the bar. I purposefully sat down next to Oren and leaned forward to attract the attention of the bartender.

He whispered in my ear, "Chloe." Want to leave and go get something to eat?

As I faced him, he smiled. There was a slight incline in his head as if he were waiting for me to respond. There was no sign of Tormod, but I knew Agnes was watching us.

As in, "Are you going to laugh at me?" So I went ahead and asked him.

A quiver ran through his mouth. A strong likelihood, indeed. Your anger is contagious and difficult to control.

I couldn't help but chuckle. I said it under my breath, but it sounded like, "In that case, Professor Bretton, you can pay for dinner."

I took off in front of him, and I could hear his amusement as he followed.

***

We were inside a typical tiny cantina found all over the Bay Area. There were chips and salsa on the table, a laminated tablecloth for easy cleanup, and a white plastic vase with dusty fake flowers in the middle.

If I'm going to make you pay for dinner, I might as well have a say in the restaurant we go to, I thought wryly.

He gave me a friendly grin. Oh, you people of little faith. One customer said, "This is the best pozole I've ever had, and these guys make it."

Exactly, he was right. Once the soup arrived, I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply to take in the flavorful aroma, and then took a bite. Really, it was unbelievable. My internal response was an involuntary sigh of delight.

He had a smirk on his face as he observed me. I mumbled, "Fine." Yes, you have a point. That's why it's so tasty.

***

We kept the mood light by talking about Bismarck and the university and the people we both knew and liked. He handed me the mail that Colin had picked up, and my heart sank.

"Is that the point of this meal?" I asked, trying to keep my tone even. In other words, "Can I get my mail from you?"

He just stared at me for a while without saying anything. He sighed and said, "No." Only one word is needed.

And why are you here, Oren?"

He answered, "I'm having dinner with a very attractive woman." Chloe, why are you even here?"

My eyes landed on him. I realized that what I said echoed what I'd said to him months before. I whispered, "Because my pussy is wet, Professor Bretton."

***

His soup spoon was gripped ever-so-slightly more tightly, and his eyes had darkened ever-so-slightly, but he showed no other outward signs of reaction.

Do you fancy a return visit to my hotel room?" I was the subject of his inquiry.

The answer was a resounding "yes" from me.

As in, "Do you want to have sex?"

When he asked if I was sure, I nodded once more.

Is it vanilla or something else?

Alternatively, I said softly.

I caught his eye, and he looked at me. Finally, he said, "Then let's try to do it properly this time." Let's get the conversation started. I need you to be honest with me, Chloe.

***

Inwardly, I mused, I should consult my magic 8-ball. Can I risk telling him what I really want?

The unhelpful advice given was to think about what you're asking for carefully and then try again.

***

First, I need to go back to the night I left Oren's house, struggling with the way I had let myself respond to him, in order to give you context for my answer. I was having a hard time accepting the fact that I enjoyed being submissive to him. Challenging the word "submissive" to describe my feelings. Finally, I accepted the label as true for me.

However, dating in the modern world was much more intricate. I was about to enter a fascinating new world, and I yearned for a dominant who could show me the ropes. However, I did not know how to go about finding one; the thought of doing this online gave me the willies, and I was too nervous to visit a club.

Oren came along after that. My feelings for him were undeniable. We shared an attraction, and he liked me. Amazing sex had been had. When we were at the bar, I began to wonder if it would be possible to ask him to help me out. With the intention of pointing me in the right direction?

After eight weeks, he wouldn't need to come in any longer because the project was done. The experiment has a limited time frame. During his eight-week stay in San Francisco, he would take on the role of my dominant once per week.

I gulped down some of my beverage and worked up the nerve to ask for his assistance.

***

After I made my suggestion, he remained silent. I finally got it out of my system and waited for him to continue.

There's no universal guidebook," he said at last. There is no manual that specifies the actions required of all submissives. It's more of a dialogue than anything else. I can only demonstrate my preferences in submissives.

Still, I think it will be useful.

After a moment of thought, he shrugged. "Maybe. To be honest, I have no idea.

"Okay." I took a few deep breaths. "If you're not interested in doing this..."

"I didn't say that," he cut in. This is just me trying to establish some ground rules. There is no silver bullet; effective communication is the key.

Inquiring minds want to know, "What do you look for in your submissives?" My curiosity got the better of me, so I inquired.

As he regarded me, a grin spread across his face. You did just fine, he assured you.

Not what I asked for, I said.

This made him laugh heartily. You'll run into trouble because of that attitude, he said. Even so, I saw laughter in his eyes.

When this happened, I stopped moving. Will it? My curiosity got the better of me, so I inquired. For me, it's impossible to imagine always being submissive and quiet.

The tension was noticeable to him. Calm down, Chloe, he said gently. Each individual is unique. It's meant to be sexual, so please don't take it the wrong way. Looking forward to getting spanked is a pleasure in and of itself.

The thought of getting spanked again caused my stomach to tighten and my muscles to twitch. I was hoping he would spank me.

When he saw the fire in my eyes, he closed them momentarily in shock. It was Chloe, he moaned. If we want to do more than just spend the night together, we need to talk.

Calmly, "I'm communicating," I finally admitted. I bit my lip unconsciously, and the expression in his eyes deepened. Then his head shook, and a smile formed on his lips. A grin that let me know he was aware of the games I was playing but had no interest in joining in. Not at this time.

"Okay. In the first place, the events of the other night did not follow the normal course of events.

To what extent? My curiosity got the better of me, so I inquired.

To paraphrase what he said: "A safeword might end a session, but it shouldn't end everything." His expression was one of mild embarrassment. "Sorry. At first, I was afraid you'd bolt.

I asked, "Did you want me to?"