Dec. 14, 2013. Lynn Lane, Tulsa, OK.
Lily
I couldn’t remember the last time I had been this nervous. No, that wasn’t true at all. The last time was without question the night of my first session with Zac. I hadn’t known exactly why I was nervous then, but the feeling persisted regardless.
This particular night, though, I knew exactly why I had spent fifteen minutes pacing my living room. This was a complete first for me—accepting a date from a client. But I couldn’t say no. After all of his honesty… he deserved a leap of faith from me as well. Where things would go from here was anyone’s guess, but I knew he had earned at least the one night to see if this thing between us truly could work as something other than a professional relationship.
I stepped in front of the mirror and took one last look to be sure all my worrying hadn’t managed to translate into looking as much of a mess as I felt. My hair was perhaps a bit frizzy, but that was nothing unusual with my curls. My makeup was still in place, lips still blood red as usual. I smoothed down my vintage-styled black wrap dress and decided this was as good as it was going to get.
Finally, when I was sure I was going to wear an actual rut in the carpet, the doorbell rang. I rushed to answer it, and was a bit dismayed to see Zac in paint-covered jeans and a plain v-neck tee, until I saw the canvas tucked under his arm and remembered his promise to paint my portrait.
“Well, hello, Zac,” I finally breathed out.
“Wow,” he said, his smile spreading from ear to ear. “I mean, hi.”
I laughed softly. “Well, it’s not every day a girl gets her portrait done. Seems like an occasion to dress up a bit.”
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” To my surprise, I felt my cheeks heating up. It was such a simple statement, but somehow, from him, it meant so much. I finally regained some semblance of control and stepped out of the doorway. “Umm, come on in.”
“Oh,” he said, holding out a bouquet of roses that I hadn’t even noticed in his hand until then. “These are for you.”
“Thank you,” I replied, accepting the bouquet. There were a full dozen of them, in a deep, fiery orange unlike anything I had seen before. “You really went all out tonight, didn’t you? Although your outfit leaves a little bit to be desired…”
Zac’s cheeks turned dark pink. “Oh, this is just for the painting. I brought something nicer to change into after.”
“Oh, of course,” I replied. “I didn’t know what you needed for that, but I’ve got a few drop cloths I dug out of the garage, as well as some water and towels. I figured we could just do it the painting here, in the living room?”
“This is good,” he remarked with a nod. He sat his backpack down on an end table and I watched with fascination as he pulled out a fold-up easel and a rolled-up canvas thing that I realized held his brushes and paints.
“Good,” I replied, carefully sitting down in a wingback chair that I hoped would make a nice backdrop. “I’ve never had my portrait painted before, so I wasn’t really sure what to expect.”
“You don’t have to do much.” Zac gave me a smile that set my nerves at ease. He tilted his head to the side for a moment, as if in thought, then plucked a rose from the bouquet and handed it to me. Holding it gave me something to do with my hands, at least, which were twitching nervously at my side.
“Okay,” I replied, twirling the rose between my fingers. “I think I can handle that. I’m really good at not doing much, in fact.”
Zac chuckled. “Just make yourself comfortable. Let me try to find a good position for you.”
“Okay…” I replied, barely managing a smile.
He took a moment to set up his easel and canvas, moving it around a few times before settling on a spot in front of me. He pulled out a pencil and twirled it between his fingers for a moment, eying me closely. “Okay… right there. You think you can hold that for a while?”
“I think I can manage that,” I replied. “I can talk, right?”
“Yeah, just try not to move your head too much.” With that, his eyes were on the canvas, his brow furrowing as he began to sketch… well, me. It was a somewhat unnerving thought, and I decided that talking would be a good distraction for me.
“I’ll do my best,” I said. “So, how have you been? The rest of the tour go well?”
“Yeah, no complaints,” he replied plainly, and I was sure there was more of a story there that he wasn’t ready to share. I hoped someday he would be.
“That’s good. I’d love to see you play sometime. I bet a Hanson concert is really something else.”
“Something else all right…” He chuckled.
I returned his laughter. “All those screaming women…”
“I’d settled for just one.” He gave me a smile and a shrug, and whatever bit of my heart hadn’t melted for him yet broke free from the metaphorical ice I’d spent years trying to pack it in.
“You’re something else, Zac.”
“So are you.”
We both fell silent then, as he continued to work diligently on his painting. I was dying to see what it would look like, or to say something else, but I didn’t know where to begin. Somehow, it seemed as though speaking would ruin the moment completely. I hadn’t realized how intimate this could be, but it truly was. It was almost like a scene; it wasn’t overtly sexual, but the connection between us was palpable, almost a tangible presence in the room.
What felt like a lifetime later, Zac leaned back and surveyed his work, his arms crossed. He picked up yet another brush and said, “Almost done…”
“I can’t wait to see it,” I replied.
He bit his lip as he dipped the brush into the black paint. “I hope you’ll like it.”
“I’m sure I will.” And I was. I had no clue what sort of talent he did or didn’t have, but that was irrelevant. It was Zac; I would love anything he did for me.
“And… there.” He plopped the brush decisively into the cup of water and swirled it around. “You can relax now.”
“Are we done?” I asked, letting out a breath and relaxing my shoulders.
“Yup, all done.”
“May I see it?”
“Sure…” Zac replied, his cheeks tinted deep pink once again. It wasn’t his color, but I enjoyed causing the reaction all the same.
I stood up, stretching my now-stiff back, and walked around to stand behind Zac at the easel. The portrait was close up, showing little more than my face and unruly hair. He’d gotten the shade of my lipstick—MAC Ruby Woo, like any self respecting goth—just right, but it was the way he’d colored my eyes that really took my breath away. Were they truly that icy? That tortured? I wasn’t sure what to think of how he saw me, but I couldn’t deny the likeness.
“Oh, Zac,” I breathed out. “I love it. You certainly are talented.”
He shrugged, wiping his hands on one of the towels I had laid out for him.
“Seriously,” I said, turning to look at him head on. “It’s beautiful.”
“I’m glad you like it.” He smiled.
“I really do,” I replied honestly. “Thank you for doing it for me.”
“It was my pleasure,” he replied, a smile spreading across his face. There was a smear of black paint on his jaw that I thought was absolutely adorable, but probably not the look he was going for.
“Now,” I said, smiling, “I’m sure you want to get changed for dinner… but I sort of had different plans…”
Zac blinked up at me. “Oh?”
“Well, you’re still going to cook, but… I may have bought a little something for you to wear. If… if that’s alright. Can’t exactly order you around now, can I?”
He smirked. “I wouldn’t mind if you did.”
“Well, in that case… follow me.” I nodded toward the kitchen, then plucked the bouquet off the couch before heading that way. I hoped it would survive a few days in water; I already knew I wanted to keep that little reminder of this night.
Zac picked up the dirty towels and cup of water and followed behind me.
“You see,” I said, turning to face him once we’d crossed the threshold into the kitchen, “I figured since you were going to be my cook for the evening, you needed a proper outfit for the job…”
His smile fell. “Please tell me it’s not a French maid outfit.”
“Not quite.” I giggled as I picked up a small shopping bag from the counter and held it up gleefully.
He sat down the towels and cup, and stared expectantly at me, as I pulled a frilly pink apron from the bag. I had picked it out especially for him from a little boutique downtown that sold some of my favorite lingerie brands. When I saw it hanging by the register, I knew I had to have it for tonight.
“It may be worse than a French maid outfit, actually.”
Zac’s eyes widened, but he didn’t speak.
“Like I said, I can’t exactly order you anymore… but I think it would be a very good look for you.”
He sighed deeply, but plucked the apron from my hands. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Oh, and that’s the entire outfit. Just the apron.” I grinned.
Zac coughed and sputtered, his eyes going as wide as saucers.
“I’ve already seen you in less…” I pointed out, stepping in close and lowering my voice. I was sure he remembered that; making him strip down at our first session had been designed to humiliate him, too. This, however, was more for my pleasure.
He huffed, but didn’t say a word, his face bright red.
I smirked. “You can change in the bathroom, if you like. First door to the right, next to the play room.”
He nodded, stuffing the apron back into the bag and walking out of the room. I took a seat at the island, grinning so hard that my face hurt. It seemed like an agonizingly long wait for Zac to emerge, his face almost the exact same shade of pink as the apron, which only just covered what needed to be covered. In this context, when I was entirely free to stare at him without shame, there was no denying how fantastic of a sight his body was.
I gave him my best wolf whistle. “Yes, that’s definitely a good look for you.”
“Thanks,” he replied, giving me a shy smile.
“You’re welcome,” I replied, standing up and taking a few steps closer to him. “All jokes aside, you… you really are gorgeous, you know.”
He looked down, his blush deepening.
“No looking down,” I said softly.
He glanced up slowly, a smirk on his face. “So, what would you like me to cook?”
“Whatever’s fine by me,” I replied. “Your specialty? I do like pasta, though, and I’m sure the kitchen is well stocked for anything along those lines. Maybe a stroganoff?”
Zac nodded, straightening up and stiffening his shoulders before turning around to the refrigerator. The apron was, of course, bare in the back, leaving his entire ass exposed. It wasn’t large, but it was perfectly round and the same beautiful caramel shade as the rest of his skin.
I couldn’t resist whistling again.
It took Zac only a moment of appraising the contents of my refrigerator to realize that the ground beef he would need for stroganoff was on the lowest shelf. I hadn’t planned that, but it had worked out nicely all the same. When he bent over to retrieve it, I got a view that even made me blush.
I giggled. “Yes, that apron was definitely one of my better ideas.”
Zac chuckled too, shooting me a grin as he carried his ingredients to the stove and began to cook. Once he’d gotten everything started, he asked, “So, how have you been?”
“I’ve been good,” I replied. “No complaints.”
“It’s good to see you,” he remarked.
“It’s good to see you, too,” I said. Deciding that a little honesty wouldn’t hurt, I added, “I really did miss you while you were gone.”
He turned and gave me a smile. “I missed you, too.”
“I wasn’t exactly… worried about you. I know you can take care of yourself, maybe even better than you think you can. But I thought about you a lot.”
“Yeah?” Zac asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Mhm,” I replied. “I know you had… a lot to deal with, going back on tour with him, and… well, everything else that must have been on your mind.”
“Yeah…” His smile faltered just a bit. “But I think we’re going to be okay now.”
“I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have brought that up. I just know you had a lot on your mind… more than I even knew at first, as it turns out.”
“It’s okay. Really.” He shook his head, spinning around to face me head on. “I love that you’re always trying to learn more about me. Makes me feel like you really care.”
“I do really care, Zac. That’s not an act.”
It hurt a little that he thought this was still a game to me, but I supposed I hadn’t done much to prove otherwise yet. I hoped I could change his mind before the night was over, and make him see that my feelings for him weren’t so different from his feelings for me.
Zac
“I know. I mean, before I wasn’t sure… but I think I’m getting there.”
It was still hard to believe this amazing woman cared about me at all, especially after everything I’d confessed to her. Yet here she was, not just accepting my fucked up life, but showing real concern about my well-being. And not even just in a platonic sense; we were on a date, and she’d admitted to wanting me as much as I wanted her. I had no clue what I’d done right to deserve all this, but I wasn’t about to complain.
“It was never an act,” she said softer, almost like she was ashamed to admit it. “I mean, I always do care about my customers, in one way or another. It wouldn’t work if I didn’t. But you… You’re different.”
“Yeah.” I let out a snort and turned back to the food, carefully shifting everything around the pan. “More twisted than the usual.”
“You’d be surprised.”
I looked over my shoulder, one eyebrow up, and smirked. “Bet you’d have some stories to tell. Not that I’d ask.”
“Confidentiality is kind of the part of the whole thing. But yes, I do.”
I chuckled as I thought about that, and all the stories I could share if I ever got the balls. I felt a tinge of pain, just a hint, as I thought about everything. Maybe eventually I would share more details; maybe it would help. But not yet. Right now, I was on a date with the woman I…
“Food’s ready,” I said, giving it one last stir and killing the burner.
“I suppose you can go get dressed now, and I’ll set the table and pour us some wine.”
“Thanks.” I smiled and walked past her to the bathroom, retrieving my nicer clothes from backpack on the way. I chuckled as I looked in the mirror before getting changed, the frilly pink apron just barely covering me in front. If nothing else, any relationship with Lily would likely never be boring.
I came out a few minutes later, dressed in a simple, but hopefully impressive button-down and slacks. Lily was by the table, pouring a glass of red wine. She set it at one of the two places at the table, then looked up.
“My, my. You do clean up well.”
I just smiled and held out a chair for her. It was a strange kind of satisfaction when she praised me, a little like being given a gold star from teacher, but I liked it.
“It smells delicious,” Lily said, nodding to the food she’d moved to a serving dish.
“Nothing too special,” I replied with a shrug, taking her plate and spooning out a serving.
“You cooked it just for me. That makes it special if you ask me.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just smiled as I got my own place and sat beside her.
“I really appreciate you doing all of this for me, Zac. I don’t get this kind of special treatment very often.”
“No?” I said, tilting my head at her. As beautiful as she was, I figured men were probably tripping over themselves to get her attention.
“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “I mean, I don’t even remember the last time I had a real date.”
“Well that’s just wrong.” I frowned, even though if the opposite was true I might not have had a chance.
“Well, you can imagine… Most guys are a bit put off by my job…”
“Yeah, I guess that could be a bit… intimidating.” It made perfect sense, of course, but I was dumb and hadn’t even thought about it like that until she mentioned it. I smirked at the thought of guys being scared off by the big bad dominatrix. But then again, I knew full well how good at her job she was.
“Something like that, yes.” Lily chuckled, then took a forkful of her food. “Now, let’s see how you did…”
I watched anxiously as she took a delicate bite. I wasn’t the greatest cook; nothing like Taylor, who could bring you to your knees with the most basic recipe. But I was pretty sure I hadn’t botched it too badly.
“Mmm, not bad. Definitely multi-talented.”
I grinned and took a bite of my own, pleasantly surprised that it actually did taste pretty good.
“But really,” Lily said, her expression serious again. “Just, thank you… for all of this.”
“You deserve it. You deserve a lot more than this, but…” I shrugged and took another bite.
“But what?” Lily asked, tilting her head.
“I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to be, like, charming.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” she chuckled. Rationally, I understood her point. But to me, I had no idea what I was doing. I was a goofball, a kid that never grew up. I was just trying what I thought would work and hoping for the best. It felt more like luck than any inherent skill.
“So the food’s okay?” I asked, trying to smile like I wasn’t terrified of doing anything and everything wrong.
“The food is wonderful, the painting is wonderful, and… the company is wonderful.”
“Not as wonderful as you.”
“You’re certainly good at flattery, at least,” Lily said, a faint blush staining her cheeks. “But I think you’re very charming.”
“Thank you.” That was all that mattered, really, wasn’t it? She was the only one I wanted to charm, so as long as it was working for her, that was fine with me.
“You’re welcome.” She took a slow sip of her wine, then smirked at me from over her glass. “I’m not sure how someone who can… talk to me the way you did… can say he isn’t charming, though.”
“I guess just writing songs for so long, I just get used to thinking like that.” I shrugged and took a sip of my own drink. I wasn’t a huge fan of wine; my tastes weren’t nearly sophisticated enough for that. But I knew enough to tell it was good, and probably not cheap. I glanced up to see Lily smiling wider, one eyebrow gracefully arched.
“If your songs are like that, then I definitely want to hear them. Perhaps you could… play something for me sometime?”
“I’d love to,” I replied with a smile, and I really did. I wanted to share that side of myself with her too. She smiled and gave a decisive nod.
“Great. If I had a guitar, I’d make you do it tonight, but I’ve got no musical talent at all.” She blinked, then.chuckled. “Not make you… You know what I mean.”
“It’s fine either way.” I gave her a suggestive smile. Now that I wasn’t a customer, I didn’t really know what to expect in the physical department. But I wanted her to know I was fine no matter what direction she wanted to take things in. And truthfully, part of me didn’t want to let go of the electric thrill of being her slave.
“Yeah? So I get to boss you around still, but now the payment is you in an apron, cooking me delicious meals? Sounds like a fair trade.”
“So,” I said, clearing my throat in attempt to get my own mind out of the gutter. “Whenever you’re ready, I did have one other trick up my sleeve…”
“Oh really?”
“Can we put some music on?”
“Sure, there’s a stereo on the table over there. I had forgotten, you We’re going to show off another talent, weren’t you?”
I just smiled and got up. She had an iPod hooked up to the stereo, and I scrolled through until I found a song that would work. I heard her get up and stand behind me. Once I found a song I liked, I turned and offered her my hand.
Lily blushed slightly as she took my hand and let me pull her close, my other hand on her hip. As the first few notes began to play I thought back to Taylor’s lesson, finding it much less painful than I’d expected it to. I was exactly where I wanted to be, with exactly the person I wanted to be with.
“Not bad,” Lily mused as we started to move. “Again, you definitely are talented.”
I smiled and swayed with a little more confidence. It felt easy, the two of us moving as one, innocent and intimate at the same time.
“Of course, I expected you to have rhythm. You are a drummer, after all.”
I took a step back and used my arm to guide her into a spin. I didn’t trust myself to talk, partly because I didn’t want to mess up, but partly because I was without words for how right this felt.
“Very nice,” she chuckled softly.”
“I try.”
“You succeed.”
“So, have I swept you off your feet yet?” I asked, twirling her again.
“Something like that, yes.”
We did a few more turns before the song ended. I held her close as the silence settled in around us, comfortable but with a palpable anticipation.
“So, what now? Any more tricks up your sleeve?” Her voice was low, but I caught the slightest tremble. She was nervous too, and that eased my own worries a little.
“Maybe just one…” I leaned closer, and brushed a hand against her cheek.
“Just one, hmm?” She smiled, coy but sincere. All I could think about was her; how beautiful she was, how wonderful, how lucky I was to be in her presence at all, let alone holding her in my arms.
I didn’t hesitate; the time for that was long past, and there was no point trying to hide how much we both wanted this, not anymore. I closed the distance and pressed my lips to hers.
She responded just as instantly, letting out a little sigh that made my heart swell. I felt her arms around my shoulders, and I reached up to touch her hair, finding it even softer and silkier than it looked. When her sigh melted into moan I pulled back, curious what I’d done so right. I’d been wondering that all night, of course, but with the building heat between us I wanted to make sure I could do it again.
The look in her eyes made my knees threaten to buckle. I felt the same longing, the same almost painful need. Without giving her time to protest, I leaned down just enough to scoop her up into my arms.
“Well then. That’s one way to get what you want,” she giggled as I carried her into the living room.
I gently set her down on the couch and knelt beside her. She cocked an eyebrow as I took one of her hands in mine.
“Thank you for letting me stay.” I reached out and touched her cheek. She smiled, her skin turning a shade pink.
“You’re welcome.”
That was all I had left to say. I kissed her again, pressing our lips firmly together. She reacted as if by instinct, her body arching towards mine and her fingers winding in my hair. I rested a hand on her waist to steady myself as I shifted to kiss her neck. Her skin was soft and warm, the scent of her perfume subtle but intoxicating. She whimpered as I explored the graceful arch of her neck; a different me might’ve compared it to Taylor’s.
“So beautiful,” I murmured, not even aware I’d said it out loud until I heard her half-moaned ‘thank you’. I pulled back and smiled, not even trying to hide how badly I needed her. Her chest heaved slightly, her lips glossy and parted with panting breath.
“Why don’t we move this somewhere else? My bedroom, perhaps?”
“Sure.” Apparently I’d used up all my eloquence for the evening, and probably for the foreseeable future as well. I stood and offered her a hand. She took it and began to lead me up the stairs. It felt like a fitting transition, as she’d already lifted me up out of my lowest, darkest place.
I followed, eagerly awaiting what lay beyond, in every sense. I would happily follow her anywhere, I realized. The thought hit me so hard I almost faltered in my steps, but as she turned back to smile at me, I knew the impossible had happened.
Something I’d been certain would never happen again. Something I’d been certain I didn’t want to ever happen again. And yet there it was, plain as day and feeling more right than anything in my life. Everything that had happened, with Taylor, and Scott, and Kate… none of it mattered, not the slightest bit, and the reason was as undeniable as it was unbelievable.
I was in love.