The Agreement (Unrestrained 1)

While I waited for her, I read over the excerpt she sent me of a Dom's letter to his sub. She said if I wanted to read more, she'd give me the password to the website where it was posted.

I glanced down at my iPhone and read the excerpt for the fifteenth time.

A letter to my sub.

You trust me completely to know what you need.

And I do know what you need. I know what to whisper in your ear to make you need me even more. I know how to touch, where to touch, when to touch.

I know you.

I've known every part of you – every naked inch, inside and out.

You can relax completely with me. You can feel everything possible with me. You can respond with total abandon with me.

It is what I most desire.

I can't wait to bind you with my soft leather restraints and make you cry out my name as you come, again and again. Then I will kiss you, smothering your moans with my mouth...

When Lara walked up to my table, I tore my attention away from the email. She looked so normal compared to her profile photo on FetLife, dressed in a sober blue pinstripe suit fitting to her occupation as a defense lawyer, her blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun, makeup impeccable, her lawyer's briefcase on rollers towed behind her. I didn't know what to expect, but in my mind's eye, I pictured her wearing a mask and black leather dress with impossibly high-heeled-thigh-high leather boots.

"Kate?"

I put my phone away and smiled.

"You must be Lara."

"The very one."

She ordered an espresso from the waitress, and then sat down. After she adjusted her suit and removed her sunglasses, she turned her focus on me.

"You look so different from what I expected," I said, my cheeks heating.

"We're ordinary people, Kate. Just like you." She looked me up and down. "You're a pretty little thing. Petite. Sweet looking. I love those huge green eyes. I won't have any problems finding you a proper Dom, if that's what you really want."

"I need someone to interview," I said, my cheeks hot. "I'm not here to find a Dom for myself."

"Of course." She smiled, her eyes narrowing. "So, tell me why you really want to write about the lifestyle, of all things." The waitress brought her espresso, and she sipped it, eyeing me over the rim. "It's quite a stretch from the article you wrote on famine in West Africa. Aren't you more of a political writer? This is sub-culture."

I took in a deep breath and went over my rehearsed response, having expected this question. I practiced my answer in my mind all morning, wondering exactly how to phrase my reasons so she would agree to be my contact in this quasi-secret world.

"This is topical, given the popularity of recent books and films. I made the switch from politics to popular culture after my trip to Mangaize."

"There has to be more than that. Something personal."

There was, but I didn't really want to admit it. It wasn't a particularly stellar moment in my personal life. I sighed and decided to be honest. If I wanted her to be, I figured I should be as well.

"To be honest, my last real boyfriend and I parted company over his interest in kink and my fear of it. Ever since we split, I've been thinking about how I responded. It scared me, but the truth is," I said, stirring sugar into my cappuccino, "I regret my over-reaction."

She smiled knowingly. "And now you're curious. Did you read the excerpt from the letters I sent you?"

"Yes."

"And?"

I shrugged, not wanting to admit how much it aroused me. "He's a good writer."

"That's it? Nothing else?" She leaned forward. "It didn’t make you want someone like him?"