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    MacGreg
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Process of Learning - 1. Lesson #1

A tap of my hand on the back of your knee, a nudge of my boot on the side of your shoe – subtle, yet strategic points-of-contact purposely administered to garner a reaction. Will you, or won’t you… be able to control the flinch, the physical fluster, as you stand there at the edge of the table, attempting to correctly take our food order while trying not to dwell on the fact that I've just touched you? That you know I intend to take you as my own at some point in the near future? That you want it as earnestly as I do?

Your face betrays your efforts at composure. A ripple of distraction crosses your jawline and sets into your eyes as you struggle to concentrate on the pen and paper in your hands. You're writing down our menu choices, but it's probably illegible, and you'll have to stand in the kitchen in a few minutes to collect your thoughts and try to remember it all.

That was a medium-rare steak, boy. Not rare. Not medium. Focus.

Despite the muted, amber lighting of the restaurant, I can see the flush rise up in your pale, smooth cheekbones. You know I'm studying you, piercing you with my intentions. Eventually, your hazel-green eyes flip up to meet mine, because you can’t resist. I've reeled you in. It didn't take much to get you there. It never does.

I sit back. Grin. Hold your gaze firm.

You're mine, I silently say.

I know, Sir, you wordlessly reply, then quickly avert your eyes. You never hold my gaze for more than two seconds.

We've played-out this scenario before. Many times, in fact. And each time, it grows stronger in intensity. I purposely request to sit in your section whenever I come here. On a few occasions, you and I end up at the same party, or at the same art opening in town. Our encounters always run parallel to the experiences we have here in the restaurant: a look, a touch, an invisible energy that draws your attention to me, because you know exactly what's going on and what’s in store for us, without the words ever having been spoken yet.

 

My companions, amused by these subtle, yet strategic interactions, assume that I'm flirting with you just to get inside your tight-fitting blue jeans. However, you and I both know that this goes far beyond that – far deeper than superficial, empty gestures and one-night-stands. That hand tapping you at the back of your knee? That means I will bend you over and take control. That look in my eyes as I study your reaction? That means I will work to discover exactly what it is you need, and I will be the one to give it to you – just as you will give me what I need… your total acquiescence.

Each time we meet like this, you seem ever more anxious to move forward on this journey we’ve slowly been navigating together. Believe me when I say that I am anxious, too. But, you're not yet ready; there remain certain obstacles to overcome. You still fumble in my presence. You still avert your eyes whenever I set my gaze on you. You still appear impatient. Your diffidence must be shed before I'll make good on my promises. And I will make good on my promises – of that, you can be sure. When we finally come together, it will be at a pace set to my own timing. Your willingness to trust me is imperative, and that's what we're working toward.

Meanwhile, these small tests I give you will continue. I will gauge your ability to stay focused when I administer purposeful distractions – a touch, a facial expression, a change in the tone of my voice. At some point, you won’t falter, stutter, or stumble over yourself in my presence. You’ll be in total control of your reactions. It’s all a part of the learning process. And I have much, much to teach you.

Until then, remember: That’s a medium-rare steak, boy. Not rare. Not medium. Focus.

Thanks for reading. More to come... maybe.
Copyright © 2017 MacGreg; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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