Legally Binding, Ch. 1

Nadine and I had known each other slightly for years, our paths occasionally crossing in the smallish community we live in. Not friends, really – just a casual conversation once in a while when we happened to meet. And maybe just the slightest spark of something else, a hint of possibility not even tacitly acknowledged.

Then one day coincidence brought us both to the same Thai place for a late lunch. Very late, actually, as the serving area was about to close for the afternoon and there were only a few people still eating. So naturally we chose to eat together, seating ourselves in the closest booth, which was in the back corner.

We sat facing each other and made the usual small talk between people whose connection is long but not particularly deep: recent activities, mutual friends and acquaintances, etc. But something about our situation – isolated in a dark corner of the restaurant – lent itself to a gradual opening up of the conversation to a more personal level.

The topic gradually shifted to people we’d dated, turned analytical as we discussed why things hadn’t worked out with this one or that one, and gradually fell away into silence. Nadine looked down at her plate, then glanced up at me over her glasses long enough to murmur, “I always wondered what you thought of me,” before looking down again.

Taken by surprise, I didn’t reply immediately. I looked her over while I thought over what I knew about her; and what I’d heard, small towns being what they are.

Nadine was a real estate lawyer and occasionally a real estate agent as well, though she rarely wore both hats at the same time. She was slim, verging on thin, dressed simply but with some elegance in a cream-colored silk blouse, and dark-gray pleated skirt, and understated gold accessories: just a thin necklace chain and small earrings. She was, as mentioned, wearing her glasses: small, steel-colored frames that I thought gave something of a hard look to her already angular features. She wore very little makeup, aside from a minimal application of eye shadow and lipstick, and wore her long, straight brown hair brushed out and down to her shoulders in a side-part.

I waited until she looked up again before I spoke. “I’ve always had an interesting mix of impressions of you,” I began. “You seem like someone who is very focused, very organized, in your daily life.”

Nadine gave me a short nod. I continued, “I think you feel the need to present yourself as a strong personality in order to be successful. Some people probably find you kind of intense – maybe even a little abrupt.” Her hazel eyes widened slightly at this, but she gave me another, somewhat more doubtful nod. (Actually, “cranky bitch” was the phrase one of her ex-boyfriends had once used to describe her to me.)

I leaned forward and spoke more softly. “But I’ve always suspected that sometimes you get very tired of having to be that person – of always being in charge, always having to be the one to make sure that everything gets done properly.”

She stared through her glasses at me as if I were a mind-reader, too stunned to even nod. I went on, “I think there must be times when you wish you could completely let go. Just give up all control.” I hesitated, then asked, “Do you want me to go on?” This time she gave the barest of nods.

Again, I hesitated. “I may be completely wrong, and I want you to stop me if what I say is offensive to you. But I have to admit that I’ve wondered, more than once, whether you enjoy – or would enjoy, under the right circumstances – letting someone…take charge of you.”

She looked confused for a moment – then her eyes went wide as comprehension dawned. Her mouth tightened and she took a sudden breath through her nose and for a moment I thought she was angry. But then she let her breath out through her mouth in a barely discernible “Ohhhhhhhh…” and continued to stare at me without moving, her mouth now slightly open.

Sensing that I was on the right track, I continued in a softer voice, “…Whether you would enjoy having someone tell you what to do…” Unconsciously, Nadine nodded again. I braced myself and took the plunge, continuing, “…and put you over his knee and spank you if you didn’t do it just right… Or make you stand in the corner like a bad little girl.”

Unconsciously she leaned forward and placed her arms on the table, one hand over the other and gripping so tightly that the knuckles were white. She took a deep, quavering breath and held it, and I could almost see her small breasts swelling beneath her blouse. She looked as though she couldn’t let go of that breath until I went on.

“…Someone who would tie you up when he felt like it… Someone who would make you kneel…” I leaned forward even further and looked directly into her eyes.