Chapter 3 #3
“I earned a partial scholarship to the School of Visual Arts in New York and got my Master of Fine Arts. I spent the next six years working for a large graphic design company in New York City before I couldn’t take the bitter winters anymore.
The last straw was when a taxi hit a slush puddle near me and covered me from head to toe in cold, nasty water while I was on my way to work.
” Ian gave her a sympathetic laugh at the image of her looking like an enraged, drowned rat.
“Anyway, I’d visited a few friends who live in Tampa before and knew I liked it.
So, I packed up, moved south five years ago, and never looked back.
I’d been doing some side work for a few internet clients while still in New York, so I branched out and built my own business from there.
I design websites, printed brochures, graphics for magazines, books, and company logos—basically whatever a client wants. ”
She took out her cell phone and flipped to the e-book cover she’d shown Jimmy a few weeks earlier. “Here's a book cover I designed for a client last month, and it ended up getting me a new contract with a publishing company.”
He took the phone from her and studied the picture.
It was a photo of a man’s bare muscular back and shoulders stopping just above his neck and down to his black leather-covered ass.
A bullwhip was between his two hands and stretched taut across his back from shoulder to hip.
Female hands came from around his front, clutching both of his butt cheeks, and were the only visible parts of her body.
Her long fingernails were painted a deep red which almost looked like blood.
From how the woman’s hands were situated, anyone looking at the picture would know her face was in the guy’s crotch, and it made one wonder if she was giving him a blowjob yet or not.
The book’s title Lydia’s Desire, and the author’s name were done in the same red as the woman’s nails.
Ian looked up at Angie and smiled. “A guy’s ass and naked back aren’t my thing, but I know a lot of women who would be drooling over this cover. It’s erotic-looking with the whip.”
“Well, it's an erotic romance with BDSM, so I had to spice it up. It's actually a good book.”
Handing her phone back to her, he raised one eyebrow. “You read stories with BDSM?”
Kristen had once explained to him and Devon that, in literature, erotica and erotic romance were two different genres.
If you took the sexual content out of an erotica book, the rest of the story couldn't stand alone.
Erotic romance contains more than just sex, such as the meet-cute, relationship development, character growth, and suspense, among other things.
If the sex scenes were removed, a story would still be told.
Putting her phone back in her purse, she shrugged her shoulders, a little embarrassed she’d admitted that.
“There’s so much of it out there nowadays.
It’s hard to avoid, even if you aren’t into it.
You can’t always tell by the title and cover of a book, but some of it is fun to read and fantasize about. ”
Ian took a casual sip of his beer. She’d answered his question loud and clear, even if her response was a bit vague.
He knew she was submissive by her mannerism, but being a submissive and knowing you were one and wanted to participate in the lifestyle were two different things.
Not just apples and oranges, it was more like mice and elephants—they were two different species, and one could crush the other if not careful.
He intentionally lowered his voice to his Dominant tone. “Does the BDSM lifestyle interest you?”
Her blush returned, and her gaze shifted to the table.
His heart rate picked up, and his cock began to harden.
Whether she admitted it to him verbally or not, the subject interested her, and he wondered if she’d experimented with sex before.
At thirty-three, he doubted she was a virgin, but what had her past sexual encounters consisted of?
Had they been pure vanilla, or had she let any of her lovers tie her up, spank her, or flog her?
Had any of them pushed her limits, fucked her heart-shaped ass?
Given her orgasms which took forever to come down from?
Had anyone ever fucked those moist, red lips of hers and come down her throat?
Part of him wanted her to tell him she practiced the lifestyle, but he didn’t want to think of any man doing any of those things to her. He wanted to be the one to introduce her to his world of kink. Thinking she would appreciate it, he decided to let her off the hook… for now.
He cleared his throat to let her know he was changing the subject.
“My soon-to-be-sister-in-law’s cousin… huh, how’s that for a roundabout way for saying I know a guy…
who’s the assistant curator for the Tampa Museum of Art.
They’re opening a new exhibit tomorrow night at some big gala for their staff and benefactors.
Since my brother and I recently made a donation, we received invites.
I was going to go stag, stay for a half hour, and then beat it, but now I have a better idea.
Would you please put me out of my misery by attending it with me so I don’t have to talk to a whole bunch of stuffy, boring people?
Kristen and her cousin Will would kill me if I bail, so I have to make an appearance. ”
Her face became animated with excitement. “Is that the exhibit that’s on loan from the Louvre?” When he nodded, she gushed, “Oh my God, I would love to go. I planned to take a whole day off next week to see it.”
“Well, you can see it tomorrow night, as long as you don’t mind me not knowing a bloody thing about art. I can look at something and say ‘yes, I like it,’ or ‘no, I hate it,’ but that’s about it.”
Her smile was flirtatious and infectious. “I’d be happy to teach you a bit about what I know.”
“Only if you let me teach you a bit about something I know some time.” Ian was going to hell. He knew it the moment the word “deal” came out of her pretty red lips, and he couldn’t help but think, what a way to go.
The waitress brought their meals, and Ian waited until she walked away again after ensuring they didn’t need anything else. “The gala starts at seven, so I’ll pick you up about twenty of, since we’ll be dealing with Friday night traffic. Oh, and it’s black-tie.”
Angie picked up her knife and fork and cut into her chicken cordon bleu. “I have the perfect dress, then. A friend of mine got married at the Guggenheim last year, and it was black-tie also. I only wore the dress once, and I always hoped for a chance to wear it again because I love it.”
“Well, in that case, I can’t wait to see you in it.” And hopefully, he thought, peel it off you at the night's end.