Anna's heart was racing for some reason. She had never done anything like this before. She wasn't sure why she was nervous. It wasn't like she and Professor Cumberbatch, or maybe she should start calling him Benedict, hadn't done enough naked with each other to break the modesty, but this seemed different. More intimate, for sure, she thought, as she pulled into his long driveway. Was the GPS right? This seemed like a rather posh home for a professor, even one with tenure. It wasn't anything like a Hollywood mansion, but it was at least twice as big as the house she'd grown up in, and infinitely nicer. It's exterior was grey brick with white trim, black shutters, a simple shingled roof, and gables offset with windows. The door was painted a deep red and had a dark brushed pewter knocker and matching handle and knob. She put her car into park, took a deep breath, and stepped out onto the cobbled driveway. Yes. Very posh!
Her attire was classy, but subdued. A light charcoal sheath dress with a red belt and red kitten heels. She chuckled to herself. She had inadvertently matched his house. Down to her coordinated undergarments which were black like the shutters.
She ascended the few steps to his door and as she slowly and tentatively reached for the buzzer, the door opened, startling her a bit.
He apologized profusely for her fright but she assured him, it was just her, a bit on edge.
"Understandable! Please, come in!"
He better understand! It was completely his fault that she was on edge. She walked through the door and past him into the entry way. She had an urge to keep to the right up the stairs to where she assumed his bedroom would be. She had no interest in the food she smelled cooking, although it smelt of heaven! The aroma was crisp, buttery, and a bit zesty! Like citrus fruit. And there was also the unmistakably rich scent of chocolate.
"Smells like sin in here! What's on the menu?"
He grinned, and answered, "Oh, just a little chicken piccata, mushroom risotto and some steamed asparagus."
One of her favorite dishes! How could he have known!?
"I love chicken piccata! Sounds delicious! What about desert! I know I smell chocolate!" She gave him a mischievous smirk, as though chocolate was only a part of the desert, or at least that was her hope. A hope that was not in vain.
"It IS chocolate, yes! Chocolate fondue, in fact! I've got some fruits and biscuits to dip in it, as well!" Fruit and biscuits were great, but she could think of better uses for chocolate fondue!
"Sounds wonderful!" She smiled sweetly, hiding well the kinky thoughts in her head.
"Would you care for some wine?" He offered.
"Please!" She didn't turn down wine at her most steely! She certainly wouldn't when she was as nervous as a pup in a thunderstorm!
She followed him into the immaculate kitchen off the entryway and watched him retrieve glasses, corkscrew and bottle from their various homes. His hands were lithe, graceful, even. And he kept them well-groomed! He poured them each a generous portion, and handed her glass to her. He raised his in a toast.
"To extra credit!"
"Here, here!" She responded.
After the high "clink" they each took a long sip of the pale golden vino. It was a dryer white, possibly Pinot Grigio, but she couldn't be sure. It didn't matter, it tasted sublime.
"I have a few appetizers prepared, if you like!" He indicated a platter of gorgeous and colorful finger foods.
"Assorted toppings on toasted baguette. Have you any food aversions? God, that's the sort of question you ask BEFORE you cook someone dinner!" He rubbed his forehead, apparently angry with himself for his perceived faux pas.
"I have no aversions, no! You can pretty much guarantee I'll try anything once!" She winked at him, and picked up on of the more adventurous looking bites and popped it in her mouth.
He watched, mesmerized, as she masticated, obviously enjoying the flavor of the food. He was snapped from his reverie by the stove timer.
"Ah, that's the chicken! We're all set!" He was a whirlwind now, gracefully preparing plates.
"The table is just through here." He gestured through a portal too wide to be a doorway to a table already set with candles, water goblets, flatware, black cloth napkins, and plate chargers.
He guided her through the kitchen to her seat, and pulled her chair out for her. She thanked him.
"My pleasure, Anna! I shall return with the food and beverages. He was back immediately with a full glass of wine and a plate for each of them on a large tray with carry handles. The plate he set in front of her looked more beautiful and smelled more scrumptious than any meal she had ever consumed!
"This looks too good to eat, but smells too good to resist!"
He chuckled. "Take a photo and then tuck in! Best of both worlds." She would have liked to, but she had left her phone turned off and in her car. She didn't want to be interrupted this night for any reason.
"Maybe next time."
"I like the sound of that. Next time."
He picked up his knife and fork, but she folded her hands to say a brief, silent grace. When she had finished, she looked up at him, still holding his utensils aloft over his own entrée.
"One doesn't see Grace being said at the table very often these days."
"I was raised in a very traditional Christian home. You said a prayer over every meal, at bedtime, and before a long trip. And, if you ask my parents, at all times in between." She explained.
"What do you see?" She asked, not quite confrontationally, but a bit more than conversationally.
"Nothing, I just mean…you've neither struck me as a traditionalist, nor proven to be one in any of our…previous interactions." He said, delicately and with a slightly devious glint in his eye.
She chuckled. "No, I suppose you can say college has…broadened my outlook. I have attempted many of the vices of my class mates, some of them more fulfilling than others, and I suppose you could say I've done a little extra living in the last few years to make up for the bubble in which I was raised."
"So as far as your life experience goes, if I may ask, have you ever had a relationship like ours before now?"
Relationship. It can mean many things. You have a relationship with your best friend, family members, dog, and coworkers. You can obviously have a relationship with your Shakespearean studies professor, but can you "be in a relationship" with him. She was anticipating an answer presenting itself before the night was over.
"Do you mean with a professor, or do you mean the… tying up bit?"
His eyes widened. Probably wondering if the answer to one of them would be yes.
"Ahem, either." He said nervously as if he wasn't sure he really wanted to know!
"Well, neither, actually. No professor I've had before this semester has…appealed to me? The way you do."
"I appeal to you?" He said, half amused, half confused.
"Isn't it obvious?"
"Well, I suppose the fact that you're here tonight should be indicative enough of your feelings. I guess I'm just waiting for the other shoe to fall." He had a sadness in his tone that was reflected in his handsome face.
"Don't you know what you do to me, Benedict?" His given name on her lips caused him to abruptly look up at her. She found a resolve and a boldness that had been hidden in the depths of her heart and met his gaze steel for steel, miraculously steadfast against the power of his eyes that were like precious gems. He didn't speak, but his entire body was screaming that he had no idea. The insecurity of this powerful, sensual man was heartbreaking. Maybe this fueled his compulsion to bind and chastise his lovers. She felt an overwhelming urge to lay her hand on the table, and be more bared to him than she had ever been.
"Do you know that I skip the last five minutes or so of the class I have before yours just so I can be in your classroom when you enter? When you walk in, it's like the earth moves a bit more slowly and gravity works a little harder. My body feels heavier, but my heart, lighter. My lungs, unbidden, void themselves of air." He sat speechless with the wide eyes of someone who'd just received a moderate electrical shock. She went on.
"I sit in the middle of the room because, as pathetic as it sounds, that is where the acoustics are the best, and I like to feel surrounded by your voice during your lectures. You sound like the human embodiment of chocolate, brandy, a jaguar, and the engine of a finely tuned American muscle car. Because of that, I really listen to your lessons, and you make me think. You make me question myself. Question others. Even question Shakespeare, which maybe wasn't your intent." She grinned sniffing out a little chuckle.
He remained silent and pensive. She drove her point home.
"And I didn't really think I'd need to go into this, but do you even comprehend how utterly, heartbreakingly beautiful you are? From top to bottom. Head to toe. Stern to bow. Perfect. Michelangelo's David is your neighborhood plumber compared to you. I could kiss your perfect lips for hours and hours, the feel of your cheekbones under my fingertips is exquisite like silk-covered stone, and when you look into my eyes, it's like, other than me and you, nothing else in the world exists. I didn't come here for any extra credit. I didn't come her because I get off on the kinky way that you fuck me. I came here tonight because I see something in you that I'm missing in my life. I want to be with you in any aspect you're agreeable too. If that's just me being your little teacher's pet that stays after class to get spanked and restrained, I will not protest. Unless told to, of course! But I think we have the potential to be more than just Dominant and submissive, and I think you feel it too."
He got up slowly, rested his hands in his pockets, and walked meticulously over to her.
"Well I've never been with a student like this, but many of my relationships have included a BDSM element. It has never made for a long relationship, but we've always ended on decent terms. The others, however, really were in it for the kink. They got a power trip, oddly enough, from being dominated. There was always an emptiness with them, though, something missing. I don't feel that with you." He caressed her bare shoulder. "I hope you're also aware of what you do to me, Anna. I burn every time you bite your lip or tuck your hair behind your ear. Sometimes I see you shift in your seat in class, and the movement makes me wish I could uncross your legs for you. I've been desperate for you since soon after the semester began, and have never been more relieved than the day I read consent on your face, practically begging for me to take you."
He spoke fervently, as though praying to her for absolution.
"I've got a lot of issues to work out, and because of those issues, I tend to prefer to do things a certain way. I like to be in control in a very literal aspect. But I'm not so steadfast in my resolve that I don't have the capacity for the more traditional approach. In fact, sometimes, that's what I want! And tonight is one of those nights." He stated as if he was certain she was following along by reading his mind. Her perplexed look bade him to elaborate.
"If you're willing, we have many nights ahead of us of pleasurable torture, delayed gratification, and sensations the you are currently incapable of fathoming. But tonight, I want to just make love to you, Anna. As if we were any couple, any pair of earnest lovers. I want you to stay with me tonight. In my embrace until the sunrises. I want to make you breakfast after a night of bliss and contented sleep. If you're willing."
To not be willing would have been harder for her than to breath underwater. She couldn't imagine it. She chuckled.
"Willing might just be the understatement of the century, Benedict." She stood and kissed him tenderly on the cheek. She backed away, minutely, and he crushed her mouth with his. All lips, and tongue, and teeth. He looked at her with those eyes, the twin lovechildren of a sapphire and an emerald, seeing her soul burn for him in her body, and he pulled her through the entryway and up the stairs she'd walked past earlier, their destination unmistakable.