I looked at her. "For someone who breathes, you are paranoid."
"Is that your expert opinion?" she asked.
"That's my way of saying I trust you," I replied.
She turned away. "My mom used to psychoanalyze me. I won't respond well if you start."
"Your mom was a psychologist?"
"She's a psychiatrist. We don't talk much these days."
She put her camera away then turned the computer so I could watch. She pulled it closer and looked through the thumbnails. "Which do you want me to delete?" she asked.
"None," I said after barely looking. "Except the blurry ones or the bad ones."
"These ten are clearly your bathroom," she said, pointing. She selected them and dragged them to the trash, then made a point of cleaning the trash. "And maybe these." Delete. "And these." Delete. "We'll have to look closer at the rest."
"I'm afraid I don't understand the problem," I told her.
"Ms. High Powered Psychologist shouldn't have her bathroom used on the cover of smut books," she said. "Your clients wouldn't be amused."
She went through the rest more carefully, deleting a few more. Then she went back to her end of the island and went through them more carefully. Finally she turned to me. "Thank you. These are nice. You have a good eye."
"I just pointed the camera and pushed the button," she said.
Dinner was sizzling on the stove, and I asked if she'd show me some of her book covers. She nodded, so I walked around the island and stood beside her. She showed me a half dozen covers. They were all very steamy and all featured her in a sultry position. She flipped past one that was different.
"Wait," I said. "What was that?"
"Nothing," she said. "That book didn't sell very well."
"Please, may I see it?"
She sighed and backed up. The cover image was a beautiful scene on a lake with a family of loons swimming in the foreground. The title was, "Breathing," and it was written by Sarah Henson.
"What is it about?" I asked her.
"Silence," she said. "Peace." She paused. "It was stupid."
I turned her to face me. "Do you think it's stupid because you didn't like it yourself, or because people didn't buy it."
She turned away. "I spent months on it," she said. "It sold four copies." She paused. "Is it possible to dry my hair?"
"Hair dryer in your bathroom," I told her. "There's another in your bedroom."
I went back to cooking, but I turned her computer around so I could look at the book cover of the novel she had written. Dinner was sizzling away and smelling wonderful after a few minutes. I glanced up and saw that her computer had gone into screen saver mode. It was cycling through a variety of nature scenes. They were beautiful.
The noise of the hair dryer ended and Sarah reappeared. "I like your screen saver," I told her. "Where did you get it?"
She glanced at it. "It's just the standard screen saver. It cycles through my photos."
I looked at her. "You took those?"
She shrugged. "No biggie."
"They're beautiful!"
She walked over and turned the computer around so I couldn't see it anymore. She didn't look up but said, "You're already wondering why I take smutty pictures of myself when I could make coffee table books or sell nature posters or something. Just don't go there."
"I wasn't," I denied. But of course, I was.
"You rich people," she said. "You think you can put a photograph on the wall, and it's just like being there. But it's not. You're not deluding anyone when you do it, not even yourselves."
She looked up to face me. "If you want beautiful, look out the window. Better yet, step outside. Let the snow caress your skin. Feel the wind in your hair."
"I'd rather look at you," I told her quietly.
"I told you," she said. "I'm not your type." She paused. "And you're not mine."
"I'm sorry," I told her. "I know I'm too old."
She looked at me. "You're not old," she said. "You're cute and you're beautiful, but I'm not someone you can tame, and I wouldn't like it if you tried. If anyone does the taming in a relationship, it's me. I don't think you would like it."
She stared at me, and I watched as she changed, staring at me, not moving. She went from the lost waif to someone else, someone predatory. My heart started pounding in my chest. All she was doing was staring at me, but I felt like the rabbit when facing the fox.
I'm not sure why I said it. "Try me."
She stared at me, perhaps wondering if I were serious. Then she slid off her bar stool and began walking slowly around the island towards me, her eyes never leaving mine. She stepped straight to me and reached out, grabbing my face with her hand, pinching my jaw between her thumb and fingers. "Is that what you want?" she asked in a quiet voice. "Am I what you want?"
"Yes," I said, my voice shaking.
She stared into my eyes. "Kneel."
My heart rate increased as I considered the order. I felt my body responding, and I found myself on my knees in front of her, staring up at her. She lifted my chin then lowered her mouth to mine, her other hand reaching around the back of my head to hold me in place.
At first, the kiss was gentle, but quickly became more insistent. She flicked her tongue against my lips and I opened obediently for her. Her tongue slipped into my mouth and began to tease.
I had never in my life knelt to someone before. The submissive act was not my nature. She had pegged me earlier when she had said I liked to be the one in control.
Her tongue retreated and I felt her change. The kiss changed from fierce and demanding to soft and wanting. Without breaking the kiss, she pulled me back to a standing position, then finally separated from me.
We were both breathing hard and flushed. I stared into her eyes.
"I'm sorry," she said, stepping away. "I shouldn't have done that."
I grabbed her.
"No!" she said, pulling away immediately.
"I'm sorry!" I said. "I'm sorry!"
She backed away to the cupboard, staring at me. She was back to being a frightened deer.
I stared at her for a moment. At first I wasn't sure what to do, then I slowly lowered myself to my knees and started at her feet. "Please forgive me."
I watched as she calmed down while staring at me.
"You didn't do anything wrong," she said. "Please get up. Please don't burn dinner over this. It smells so good, and I'm starving."
I watched as she retreated to her side of the island. I climbed back to my feet and immediately stirred the dinner. She was right; it did smell good. I hadn't burnt it yet, but it was a close thing.
"I'm a little broken," she said while I was occupied with the food.
"Everyone is a little broken," I replied. "Just in different ways."
I let her think about that for a while.
"Sarah," I said. "Are you on any medications?"
"You're not my doctor," she said immediately.
"No," I replied. "It was a clumsy way to ask whether it was okay to open a bottle of wine."
"Do you think I'll be more pliable with alcohol in me?" she asked.
"No," I said. "But I may be."
I looked at her and she was smirking. "I don't even take aspirin," she said. "A glass would be nice."
* * *
She was clearly hungry, but she ate in a dainty style. I spent more time watching her than I did eating my own food. She noticed, but didn't seem put off by it.
We didn't talk much over dinner. She meticulously cleaned her plate, then waited patiently for me to finish eating. We cleared the table together and she insisted on washing the dishes while I put the leftovers away.
She asked me questions about my job and how long I had owned the cabin. I asked her where she liked to take photos and where she was from. She talked about the photos but wouldn't answer any questions about her past.
Finally she turned to me and snapped, "Don't you take a hint? Do you think if you keep prying eventually you'll get your own way?"
She stormed out of the kitchen and out to the laundry, cycling her clothes into the dryer. She came back and packed up her computer and camera. "I'll be out of your way as soon as my clothes are dry. Thank you for dinner, a soak in the tub, and clean clothes."
"Sarah, wait," I said.
"You're doing it again," she said. "Trying to order me. Trying to get me to conform to what you want. You're not going to get what you want. Deal with it."
"I want to apologize," I replied. "I'm sorry. I have certain behavior patterns. It's taking me time to realize some of them are inappropriate with you."
I watched her posture soften. "I'm broken," she said again. "I have certain coping mechanisms. None of them are compatible with someone else who needs to be in control all the time."
I walked over to her, watching her. She didn't back away. "I like you," I told her. "I don't understand you well enough to know what you want or whether your behavior earlier is healthy. I don't know whether it's something I should encourage or if I should keep my distance."
Sarah stared into my eyes. "Why would you encourage it?" I asked. "Why would you encourage me to dominate you?"
I liked my lips. "Because you tasted amazing, and because I don't remember when it was the last time someone made my heart beat like you did." I paused. "But I fear that is a coping mechanism, and perhaps not a healthy one."
"It's a pragmatic coping mechanism," she replied, "one that enables me to do this." She reached out and grabbed the back of my head, pulling my lips to hers. She ravaged my lips with hers for a moment, and I had to wrap my arms around her as my knees grew weak. Her tongue slipped into my mouth, and I could taste a tantalizing combination of dinner fused with her unique flavor.
Her other arm went around me, then she was bending me back and slowly lowered me until I was on my knees in front of her, clutching at her.
She broke the kiss and stepped away, panting.
"Back straight!" she ordered. "Head down!"
I immediately complied, helpless to resist her demanding tone. She walked around me, studying me. I felt like I were being studied by a tiger into whose cell I had wandered. My heart was pounding again, and I felt myself growing wet with desire for her.
She stepped up behind me and whispered in my ear. "Is this what you want?"
"Yes," I said.
She pulled my head around and kissed me, her legs pressed against my buttocks, her hands on the back of my neck and my chin. She pushed me away as she broke the kiss.
"You've never done this before," she said, prowling around me again.
"No," I said while staring up into her eyes.
She stopped directly in front of me, facing me. "Head down!" she said. "I told you once."
I immediately lowered my head.
"Who is in control?" she asked me.
"You are."
Her voice softened. "You taste nice, Allison. I haven't taken anyone in a long time." She laughed. "Maybe a long time at twenty-five won't seem as long when I reach thirty-two."
"How about thirty-seven?" I asked her.
She lifted my chin and I stared up into her eyes. "You look damn good for thirty-two. You look amazing for thirty-seven." She bent down and kissed me, softly. When she was done, she pushed my head back down and prowled around me some more.
Finally she said, "You will wait here, just like you are."
She didn't want for me to respond. I couldn't see her from the direction I was facing, but I heard her exit the room towards the bedrooms. She closed a bedroom door. It sounded like mine.
I knelt there, wondering what I was doing, the memory of her kiss telling me exactly what I was doing. I stayed exactly where she'd left me. I didn't understand what I was doing. She was what she said she was: a broken woman. Unless she actually asked for help, I wasn't going to be able to give it to her, and I probably wasn't qualified, all my education to the contrary.
But god! I wanted her. I wanted her to want me.
Had it been that long? I guess it had. Was that all this was? An itch to be scratched? I was perfectly capable of scratching that itch without allowing this go further. But I wanted it to go further, I wanted it to go wherever she took it.
She returned after several minutes. I kept my head bowed and resisted the urge to look at her.
"Did you look around while I was gone?" she asked me.
"No. I've been as still as I could be." I paused. "I'm starting to shake. This is an unfamiliar position for me."
"Don't move," she ordered. "Or I will punish you."
"Yes, Sarah."
She stepped very close behind me. Then she wrapped one of my silk scarves around my eyes and tied it. She adjusted it to her satisfaction. Then she knelt behind me and tied silk around my ankles.
"Scared?" she asked me.
"No." I licked my lips.
"Foolish," she said. "I am going to take you to your room, remove every stitch of clothing, except the scarves, of course, then tie you to your bed. Once I've done that, I can do anything I want."
I thought about it. "Will you hurt me?"
"I don't know," she said. "Not seriously. Nothing worse than a very severe spanking."
She began rubbing my bottom. "Would you like that? Would you like a spanking?"
My voice caught in my throat. "I don't know."
She stood up then hauled me to my feet. My ankles were tied together with a small amount of travel between them. I could take small steps but not big ones.
"If you're going to tell me 'no', now is a good time," she said into my ear.
I didn't respond. She smiled against my ear. "Give me your wrists," she ordered.
I put my hands behind my back, and she tied a scarf around them. I wriggled them when she was done. I didn't think I was going to work them loose.
"If I go too far," she said into my ear. "You will say 'octopus'. Say it now."
"Octopus," I said softly.
"Again," she said. "Like you mean it."
"Octopus. Octopus."
She tugged on my arm and began pulling me along. I struggled to keep up with her demands, taking such small steps. From the sounds, I could tell when we'd moved into the hallway leading to the bedrooms. She shoved me against a wall and attacked my lips again. I parted instantly for her and moaned.