Annabel Joseph - Firebird

“Okay, Prosper. I’m going to speak frankly to you. First of all, I’m not embarrassed. Nor do I think this little encounter needs to change anything at all between us at the Townsend. I have no more or no less respect for you. Do you understand that, to begin with? Just answer yes or no.”

“Yes.”

“In fact, I’d very much prefer that what has happened here remain a complete secret.”

“I want that too,” she said with palpable relief.

“Okay, good. Now we’ve gotten that out of the way. Let’s talk about what to do now. Obviously I’m a dominant male. You’re a submissive female, from what I gather. Yes?”

She hesitated, then nodded.

“And surely you realize it was your attributes I described when I wrote that ad.”

She nodded again.

“So it seems that’s where we are. If fortune smiles, perhaps you found yourself, during rehearsals and class, attracted to me too?”

Her answering nod was slow to come and subtle, but the blush gave everything away.

“So the embarrassment, Prosper,” he said. “Unnecessary. To me, this feels a lot more like good luck. Serendipity.” He leaned an arm on either side of her head and pressed his front to her. “Relief.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath just before his lips closed over hers. He marveled at the way she both melted to him and held herself away. Poor confused little submissive. He knew what to do with girls who needed guidance. He pulled back and stroked her cheek. “I know you’re afraid. That’s clear. But I think you’re only afraid of the unknown. Are you inexperienced? You’ve never done this before?”

“Done what?”

“Exchanged power. Been someone’s sub.”

“Yes, I… I had a dom. A boyfriend—” She waved her hand and grimaced.

“Didn’t end well?”

She shook her head. “It didn’t go very well from the beginning.”

“Didn’t know what he was doing?”

“I don’t know. I guess he did.”

“If you’re only guessing, then no. He didn’t know. Or he wasn’t right for you.”

The words hung in the air between them. The insinuation that he, Jackson, was. He remembered the feelings he got from watching her dance, watching her strive to reproduce his steps. Not just reproduce them but perform them perfectly every time. The concentration on her face, the furrowed brow, the small, tense lines at either side of her lips, the hyperalert eyes. She looked up at him that way now. She wanted to please him. She didn’t know if she could, but he was pretty sure she wanted to try.

“Prosper…” He said her name on a long exhalation and shifted his knee forward between her legs. With only token resistance, they parted, and he pinned her against the wall. His hands dropped to her waist, then lifted her and pulled her close. They were nearly eye to eye as his lips settled over hers once more. Her kiss was still tentative but less so this time. He cupped her jaw and slid one hand up into her nape, into the mass of copper orange hair that felt like velvet in his fingers. He made a sound, or maybe she did, as the kiss deepened with surprising intensity.

He backed away. They looked at each another. Her hands opened on his chest.

“But Jackson, what—how—”

“How will we face each other in the rehearsal room? We’ll manage. We’re consenting adults. A little discretion goes a long way.”

He could see the wheels turning behind her green eyes.

“No, but… I mean… this will have to be a big secret. Work and this job, public and private relationships. And if I get attached to you—”

“We won’t have to keep this secret very long. I leave in February, Prosper. Maybe March. So this only lasts until then. That’s all I can offer you.”

She fell silent and looked down. He knew that might be the end of it, but he had to warn her outright. He wasn’t going to lead her on.

“So it will be our secret,” she said.

“Yes. Our fun little secret for the next couple of months. Are you in or out, Prosper?”

She hesitated. “If I’m in, then what?”

“If you’re in, I’d like you to come back with me to my place, strip down to your panties, and let me tie you to the bed.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. “Wrists and ankles. Tied with rope.”

She took a deep, shaky breath. “And then what?”

“That’s all. I’ll touch you a little. Talk to you. I won’t keep you more than an hour, I swear.”

“My last dom told me I should never let anyone tie me up the first time. That I needed to build trust first.”

“I’m sure he had your best interests in mind when he said that. But do you really think we need to build trust? We’ve been rehearsing together for a month now.”

She remembered lifts, balances. Hands that never once guided her the wrong way.

“But you won’t… you won’t…”

“Won’t what? There are certain things I won’t be able to do if your underwear stays on.”

He’d thought she was talking about sex, but she was clearly thinking of something else. He noticed the tense little lines around her mouth again.

“Pain. You’re worried about pain? Whether I’m going to want to hurt you?”

She nodded.

“No, not this time. That’s not something I do…” He almost said at the start of a relationship , but that was assuming things went well. She might run screaming from his place at any moment, and that would be that. Instead he said, “That’s not something I do the first time I’m with somebody.” An outright lie. If she’d been a regular girl, some normal, needy subby who’d answered his personal ad, he would have hurt her by this time already, more than once. Spanked her, clamped her, bent her over the bed, pulled her head back by that luscious hair. But it was okay. Plenty of time to train her to more stringent play. She was a dancer. She would be able to handle the pain.

“I won’t hurt you, not today, and I won’t ask you to take off your panties. What’s between your legs is not yet mine. Everything else I have a right to. Can you live with those terms for today? One hour?”

“ Not yet mine .” The yet alarmed him. He already considered her his. Somehow he knew this was only the beginning; otherwise he would have pushed to have it all. Maybe he would still push to have it all when he got her alone. No, no, don’t go too fast. Don’t scare her off.

“What do you say?” he asked. “In or out?”

Please, please, please, Prosper. You can do this.

“In,” she finally said.

Prosper’s fingers seemed to belong to another person as she unbuttoned her coat. She took a deep breath and shrugged out of it. Jackson hung it on a coatrack near the door while she looked around. His town house was sparsely furnished. A rental, obviously. One couch, one end table. One TV. One table between the living room and kitchen with a computer on it. One bar stool at the kitchen counter, and one coffee cup in front of it. Everything was neutral except for a large bowl of fruit on the counter and a colorful afghan over the arm of the couch. His apartment was very clean. She thought of her and Glenna’s messy apartment. Thank goodness she hadn’t taken him there. Not that she could have. What were they doing? What if someone found out about this? They would all assume she’d slept her way into Jackson’s ballet.

Oh my God . He was looking at her.

“Come upstairs. To the bedroom.” She let him lead her across the living room and up the stairs. His bedroom was as sparsely furnished as the rest of his house. A large iron bed dominated the room. There was a white shag rug on the floor and a bureau with a mirror across from the bed. She stood and watched with butterflies in her stomach as he folded down the white comforter.