Tymber Dalton - Cardinal's Rule

He nodded. “I understand.” He looked like he wanted to say something else.

“What is it?”

“May I ask you a question, Mistress?”

She nodded.

“If I was to ask you on a date, what would you want me to call you?”

She smiled. “I would want you to call me by my name. Matilda. Well, Tilly. I prefer Tilly. I don’t like Matilda.”

“That’s beautiful.” He sounded sincere. Bob always sounded sincere. He’d never been a “do me” sub. He’d always let her set the tone and pace since their initial evaluation. He never asked. He was a good boy.

“Thank you.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “May I ask you something else?”

“Sure.”

When he leaned in, she felt his energy shift. Her “boy” was gone, and Bob now sat in his place across the table from her. Not a hint of submission in his posture. She suspected this was how the rest of the world saw him. His gaze grew intense. “Tilly, I’d like to take you out to dinner tonight, if you’d let me.”

A delicious shiver passed through her body as she nodded.

She quickly changed into a blouse and skirt and flats. Normally, Mistress Cardinal wore spiked heels for sessions, but those were murder on her feet. Tilly usually went barefoot around the house, or wore sneakers or comfy sandals or Crocs whenever possible, even though Mistress Cardinal had an image to uphold.

Bob stood by the front door. Not a boy waiting for his Mistress, but a man waiting for his date.

He didn’t display the slightest sign of impatience.

She stopped him before they stepped out the door. “Hold on. Come here.” Without the normal six-inch heels she wore during his sessions, he stood nearly a foot taller than her. When he leaned over she unlocked his collar, removed it, and laid it on the entryway table by her front door. “That’s better.”

He smiled. “Thank you, Tilly.”

She liked the way her name sounded coming from his mouth. “How far do you live from here?”

“My condo’s twenty minutes away.”

“I want to stop by there first, before we go eat.”

“Okay.”

She studied him. “No questions?”

He shrugged. She also liked that gesture from him. Easygoing. “I just figured you wanted to make sure I didn’t have any bodies laying around.” She loved his playful smile.

He could make her laugh, too. Bonus points.

He still insisted on getting doors for her. More bonus points. He was a gentleman. On the way to his condo they talked about music. She was surprised to find out he liked a wide variety of music from classical to heavy metal and they had many favorites in common. He loved to read, did a lot of it.

He collected Hallmark ornaments.

That last point surprised her. He nervously ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know. My mom used to buy them, then when she got older, after my dad died, I started buying them for her because I didn’t want her spending the money on them. Then she died and I…”

He shrugged and glanced at her. “Is that weird?”

She burst out laughing again. “I’m sorry,” she said when she finally composed herself. “You come to me for certain things,” she said, “and you’re asking me if collecting ornaments is weird?”

He smiled, then he laughed. He had a nice laugh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I never thought about it like that.”

“I not only think it’s not weird, but I think it’s sweet.”

She watched while he drove, confident, one arm slung over the wheel, not too fast, no sudden stops, no pissing contest jumps from the line at a light.

Calm.

His condo lay in a gated golf course community. She knew it was his place because she’d seen his driver’s license when he first started seeing her, had written his address and info down for safety.

That was when she still felt super-paranoid. Since then, she’d relaxed a lot, weeded odd clients out before she ever took them on.

“I don’t golf,” he said, “but I liked the landscaping. I also didn’t want to deal with a yard or maintenance. I’m too busy normally.” He led her up to his door, unlocked it, and let her go first.

Inside, he tossed his keys on a table near the entry and flipped on the lights.

Nice.

Not a pig sty, which had been her first worry. Not anally-retentive neat, either. Lived in, clean, tidy. She never had to pay a cleaning company to come in because she had a string of clients who paid her for the privilege of doing it for her. If it wasn’t for that, her house would look about like his. Lived in, but not perfect.

He picked up a few books and his mail, which lay scattered on the coffee table. “Sorry. Wasn’t expecting company.” He offered her a slightly bashful smile.

The walls of his den were lined floor to ceiling with books. She found the kitchen clean, a rinsed breakfast bowl and coffee mug in the sink. Counters tidy. His bedroom, also neat. Bed made, but not crisp, just the covers pulled up. At least he’d made the attempt.

She walked into the bathroom. Clean enough. Clothes in a hamper, towel folded and hanging from a rod.

He leaned against the bedroom doorway. “Do I pass inspection?”

She nodded. “Actually, you do.”

“I was kidding.”

“I wasn’t.” She turned to him. “I’ll let you in on another secret very few people know. There’s a reason I haven’t let anyone into my life in the past few years. I was burned in a bad way by someone I trusted. I don’t trust easily anymore.”

“I get that.”

“Will that be a problem?”

He shook his head. “Not really. Considering I trust you not to take pictures of me during our sessions and post them on the internet later, I think we’ve already got a pretty solid foundation of trust there.”

The look on his face made her laugh again. “Okay. I promise no more über-bitch tonight. I’m sorry.”

He stepped out of the way to let her pass as she walked back to the living room. “No, it’s okay,” he said. “I get it.”

“You do?”

He picked up his keys and shut off the lights. “I’ve been to your place. You’ve never been here.

You wanted to make sure I wasn’t some grungy lying asshole. Or married. If I hadn’t let you come here, you would have wondered what the hell I was hiding.”

“Or who.”

“Yeah. I get it.”

She turned on him. “No,” she softly said, “I don’t think anyone can get it if they didn’t see me back then and know what I went through. Maybe…” She looked up at him. He had beautiful blue eyes.

Thank god they aren’t brown, like… “Maybe one day, if we get to that point, I’ll let you go talk to Ross and Loren. They’ll tell you. Then you will definitely get it.”

downtown Sarasota. He didn’t ask her where she wanted to go, he simply picked a place. She would have been happy with something more modestly priced, but he got another A for effort.

They had a good dinner and a very long conversation about any and everything. Vanilla.

Totally vanilla.

They shut down the restaurant, and when he drove her home he walked her to her front door.

She looked up at him. “Let’s say this is the normal end of a first date. What would you do next?”

He smiled and stepped in. She suspected—hoped—he’d kiss her. Instead, he reached for her hand and gently clasped it in his. He lifted it and feathered his lips across her knuckles. It wasn’t anything at all like the other times he’d kissed her hand.

It felt sensual. Seductive. His eyes never left hers.

Part of her wanted to drag him inside and fuck his brains out. Maybe her body wasn’t as dead as she thought. It was the first time since her new life started that she’d felt like that.