Audacious & Salacious in Stilettos

I went on a second date with the doctor. Gorgeous, single, and he treats people with life threatening illnesses (his particular specialty will remain undisclosed for anonymity’s sake). Huh… Did I fall asleep to Grey’s Anatomy… ? I asked him how he wasn’t beating women off with a stick. Ah, of course he was. But who cares. He’s spending his night off with me. The cherry on top: he’s so incredibly sweet! That kind of sweet where he grew up as a plus lovin’ kid who didn’t sling demeaning game targeted at girl’s with daddy issues. So incredibly kind, considerate: a perfect southern gentleman. And yes, I found another good kisser.

Axes Before Aftercare

I wanted him to come to a swing dancing class with me, but he promptly vetoed that hard–he declared he did not want me to lose all sexual interest in him so early on. Ha! Well played. So I conceded and agreed to go ax throwing instead. He won the battle there, though I held my own considering it was my first time. To me, there is nothing more insulting than someone letting me win. If I didn’t earn it, I don’t want it. The experience left me wanting though. I thought I would’ve been so into it, but perhaps I’m that ridiculous competitive that I lose interest in things I’m not good at. Food for thought..

After dinner at a swanky wine bar with the kind of food you’d get during one of those ridiculously expensive 7 course meals–literally, the first appetizer was three olives stuffed with octopus. Apprehensive about the oncoming ones, I informed Dr. 50 Shades that though I am a woman, I do eat. We ended up going to a Mexican restaurant later for tacos, thank God.

After our anticlimactic adventure, we went back to his place for some bourbon. He enticed me with Whistle Pig 18 Double Malt Rye: 2nd Edition. The price for this whiskey $399.99–Google it. And oh, was it delicious!

Breathing it in deeply, my nose about an inch from the caramel liquid, eyes closed, and mouth parted slightly–yes, the reasoning is to look as if you’re about to moan in ecstasy so that you’ll be poured another glass–to allow the alcohol fumes a passage of escape so that you may better discern the other flavor notes.

Sideline: While some people like to add water to reduce the burn from the alcohol, I take my whiskey like a man: neat. However, studies by Swedish chemists do support the theory that adding a few drops of water actually open up the flavors and aromas, so to each their own.

The nose was sweet. I could smell toasted oak, berries, and nutmeg, though registering this would go completely over my head if I didn’t first read the description. Eh, you can say that’s cheating, but there’s nothing wrong with looking at the diagram of a box of chocolates, so why go into whiskey blind? However, it is always fun to put on an air of pretension and pretend you’re just that refined, then admit you’re totally full of shit.

Tipping the liquid into my mouth, I chewed the whiskey to coat the entirety of my tongue. It was spicy with hints of a something fruity and floral. And after a delay, the subtle notes of vanilla and oak emerged. The finish was strong and spicy, but smooth.

I told Dr. 50 Shades he was just plying me with premium alcohol to take advantage of me, which he agreed devilishly, his eyes burning. Before I could open my mouth with a witty retort, he pushed me up against the wall, his lips on mine, his tongue exploring my mouth, his hands roaming over my body possessively. I was whiplashed as everything went 0 to 60 in a matter of seconds, but I surrendered, lost in the overwhelming sensations. He put his hand around my throat, the pressure strong enough to display dominance without being concerning, and whispered sexy nothings in my ear, telling me I was stunning and the like. Then, he spun me around like a swivel jewelry display case and fisted his hand in my hair, pulling my head sharply to the side, alternating between kisses, nibbles, and nips. Lifting the hem of my dress slightly, I felt and heard his hand slap my ass hard enough to make me yelp.

And then he pulled away. Talk about dazed and confused. He watched me as I turned around, a predator studying its prey. When he went to step forward, I put my hand on his chest. I told him to hold on tiger and that I needed to catch my bearings, not to mention my breath. I’ll admit, that was incredibly hot, but for some damn reason Mr. Unexpected popped into my head and totally killed the moment. Asshole.

Holding his gaze, I asked Dr. 50 Shades about my suspicions which he confirmed: he’s definitely a Dom. How intriguing… I told him of my curiosity about the BDSM world. He told me how much fun we were going to have. Danger zone!

I looked at my watch and saw it was nearing 11 PM. It was late and I had Apollo to get home to. If I’m honest, I didn’t need any further temptation. Dr. 50 Shades walked me out and kissed me goodbye, hot, hungry, and demanding. He pulled back rather quickly and smiled, wishing me to drive safe before going back inside. I climbed into my car, my eyes wide, my head cocked, opening my mouth a few times, only to close it and breath out my nose in a huff of incredulity. Then, I shook my head to clear the haze and said out loud to myself, “Well. Okay then[,]” and proceeded to drive home.

I went on a second date with the doctor. Gorgeous, single, and he treats people with life-threatening illnesses (his exact specialty will remain undisclosed for anonymity’s sake).

Huh… did I fall asleep to Grey’s Anatomy?

I asked him how he wasn’t beating women off with a stick. Ah, of course he was. But who cares—he was spending his night off with me.

The cherry on top: he’s so incredibly sweet. The kind of sweet that comes from growing up as a plus-lovin’ kid who didn’t sling cheap lines at girls with daddy issues. Kind, considerate—the perfect Southern gentleman. And yes, I found another good kisser.

Axes Before Aftercare

I wanted him to come to a swing-dancing class with me, but he promptly vetoed that. He claimed he didn’t want me to lose all sexual interest in him so early on. Ha! Well played.

So I conceded and agreed to go axe throwing instead. He won that battle, though I held my own considering it was my first time. To me, there’s nothing more insulting than someone letting me win. If I didn’t earn it, I don’t want it.

The experience left me wanting, though. Maybe I’m just that competitive—I lose interest in things I’m not instantly good at. Food for thought…

Dinner, Then Decadence

Dinner was at a swanky wine bar, the kind that serves “art” instead of portions. The first appetizer? Three olives stuffed with octopus.

Apprehensive about what was coming next, I told Dr. 50 Shades that although I am a woman, I do eat.

We later found salvation in tacos at a Mexican restaurant.

After our anticlimactic adventure, we went back to his place for bourbon. He tempted me with WhistlePig 18 Double Malt Rye (2nd Edition)—retailing at $399.99. Google it. Delicious doesn’t even cover it.

The Whiskey Lesson

Breathing in deeply, nose an inch from the caramel liquid, eyes closed, mouth slightly parted—yes, that’s the trick. You look on the verge of moaning in ecstasy so they pour another glass.

Sideline: while some people add water to tame the burn, I take my whiskey like a man—neat. (Though Swedish chemists say a few drops of water release more flavor. To each their own.)

The nose was sweet: toasted oak, berries, nutmeg. I’d never have picked that up without reading the notes first—but come on, no one dives into a box of chocolates blind.

Then came the taste: spicy, a little fruity and floral, finishing with vanilla and oak. Strong, smooth, dangerous.

Zero to Sixty

I teased that he was plying me with premium alcohol to take advantage of me. He grinned—devilishly—and before I could deliver a retort, he pushed me against the wall.

His lips found mine; his tongue explored; his hands mapped my body. Everything went from 0 to 60 in seconds.

He gripped my throat—dominant but controlled—and whispered filthy sweetness in my ear. Then he spun me like a display case, fisted my hair, kissed, nipped, and slapped my ass hard enough to make me yelp.

And then he stopped.

Dazed. Breathless. I turned; he watched like a predator studying its prey. When he stepped forward, I pressed a hand to his chest.

“Hold on, tiger. I need to catch my bearings.”

Hot as hell—but of course Mr. Unexpected had to pop into my head and kill the mood. Asshole.

The Reveal

Still holding his gaze, I asked the question forming in my mind. He confirmed my suspicion: definitely a Dom.

How intriguing.

I admitted my curiosity about the BDSM world.
He smiled. “We’re going to have a lot of fun.”

Danger zone.

Exit, Stage Left

It was nearly 11 p.m., and Apollo was waiting at home. Probably for the best—no further temptation required.

Dr. 50 Shades walked me out and kissed me goodbye—hot, hungry, demanding. He pulled back quickly, smiled, and told me to drive safe.

I climbed into my car, eyes wide, head cocked, mouth opening and closing like a stunned fish before exhaling a disbelieving huff.

Then I shook my head and said out loud,

“Well. Okay then.”

and drove home.

Reflections in Rearview

Huh… This I did not anticipate…

I thought about Mr. Unexpected and Dr. 50 Shades on my drive home. Both so different, yet both amazing men. Well, it’s a blessing that I’m single and don’t have to make any decisions yet. I’m upfront that I’m only dating right now and will continue until someone inspires me to not want to. Ultimately, I don’t owe anything to anyone and as long as I’m being straight up and honest, no one can fault me. I’m a savage I know, but I own it.

After I got home, walked Apollo, and started my nightly routine, something caught my eye. I turned around to look in the mirror and investigate. Not only was my ass cheek dark red, there were white marks in the center literally in a perfect handprint, even with the lines in between finger joints.

Son of a bitch.