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| Site contents Copyright © 2005-2015 Bridget Midway All Rights Reserved |
Slave to Love
Taren moved her chair back. “I need some air.”
“Let me go with you.” Connie started to get up from her seat.
“No. Please. I’ll be fine.” Taren never thought her fun-loving parents would be so overbearing. “Enjoy your
dinner.”
Taren strolled briskly down a hallway in the fancy Cavalier Hotel. If nothing else, she could always say that she
had been to the lavish Virginia Beach hotel. She wanted to do it, though, under better circumstances.
Her high, black-and-white strappy heels didn’t allow her to run as fast as she wanted, but she moved quick
enough to be able to whisk by guests milling about in the lobby. At the end of a hallway, she pushed on a set of
double doors to an outside.
She ended up in a place that seemed to come straight from a dream or a fantasy. Lit candles in glass vases
and candle-lit lanterns lined the brick patio flooring. Chaise lounges with white seating cushions lined the sides
to leave room to walk down the center. Soft piano music, piped in through speakers, wafted through the still
night air.
Taren sat in one of the lounges and closed her eyes. If she listened beyond the music and concentrated hard
enough, she heard the ocean waves a block away crashing on the beach. At least she forced her mind to hear
that, to imagine her life on the beach.
She opened her eyes and stared into the darkened garden where she caught something she hadn’t noticed
before. A man stood toward the garden area with his fists on his hips.
From behind, he looked impressive. A tall white man with a head full of dirty blond hair and big feet that would
capture any woman’s attention. She couldn’t wait for him to turn around.
She noticed a white stick in between his fingers. “Lots of candles around here.”
The stranger turned around and the air escaped her body. Even in darkness he looked incredibly enticing.
Shadows highlighted his sleek nose, strong jaw line and full lips.
At first she thought he may have worked at the hotel as a front desk clerk or concierge or manager. The way he
wore the suit, no way could this man be told what to do by someone else.
He moved slowly toward her, stalking her.
“Um, you can use one of the candles to light your cigarette.” She hated the habit, but felt the need to be
accommodating.
The man looked down at the slender addiction between his long fingers. “I bummed this from some waiter out
here, but I wasn’t going to smoke it.” He crushed it in his hand. “Old habits die hard.”
Taren’s clit throbbed as soon as she heard his deep voice. That reaction alone made her sit up and take notice
of this man. As soon as he moved in closer, she noticed his light blue eyes.
Her heart pounded, and all at once, she felt like a schoolgirl again experiencing her first crush. No way could
she feel this way over a stranger. She would blame this reaction on lack of food. Her dinner waited for her in the
ballroom along with her parents’ overprotective nature.
“Know what you mean.” Taren thought about her parents and their need to be so overbearing.
“You look nice.” He scanned her from her head down to her toes.
She thanked the Lord that she’d had a pedicure. Taren swept her hand over her hair that she had styled in an
up ’do.
“Here for a wedding or something?” He looked at the hotel. “This place is known for that.”
“No, here with my parents.” She winced as soon as the words left her mouth. “My dad owns an insurance
company. We’re here for some builders event.”
“But you have no interest in that.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Not really. I don’t know the person being honored. I don’t even know his name or the name of his business. I’m
here to enjoy rubbery chicken.” She lowered her head and voice. “And be treated like a child.”
“What was that?” He moved closer to her.
“Never mind. Are you here for a wedding?” She smiled. “Are you the groom?”
He shook his head. “Not really marrying material. What about you?”
Taren shrugged. “If it were up to my parents, I would be married off to the goober at our table because he looks
safe and reliable, which means he’s boring.”
“Boring might be good for you.”
Taren tilted her head at this stranger’s assessment of her.
He continued. “You’re young.”
“And?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“You don’t know what you want yet. Sometimes it takes someone who’s been there to help guide you.”
Taren bolted to her feet. “The best decision you made tonight had to be that you didn’t smoke that cigarette.
Other than that, you are dead wrong about me.” She started to leave.
“So you didn’t want me smoking?” he asked from behind her.
Despite her better judgment, she stopped and acknowledged him. “It really doesn’t matter what I want. If you
wanted to smoke, I was being polite and letting you know how you can accomplish that. But I think it’s a
disgusting habit. It ruins your teeth, your lungs and your skin. You stink and you make everything around you
smell.”
“Had I lit my cigarette, would you have stayed or gone back into the hotel and rejoined your party?” He took
another step closer to her.
At his close proximity, she caught his intoxicating scent that reminded her of the outdoors, like honeysuckle and
fresh-cut grass. “If you had smoked, I probably would have moved to another spot out here or gone back
inside.”
“What if I wanted you to stay?” He inched in closer. “You know. For conversation. Would you?”
Taren returned his direct stare with one of her own. She wanted him to see that she wouldn’t be bossed
around, at least not by him. She’d had fantasies about being a submissive for a strong dominant man. No
matter how fine she found this man, he had another thing coming if he thought he could rule her.
“No, I wouldn’t.” She hoped she sounded convincing.
He looked like he struggled to not smile. “Interesting.” He sauntered to her. “You have a mind of your own, but
you’re accommodating. You stand strong in your convictions, but can be yielding.”
Taren remained in her spot, but her knees knocked together so hard she felt her body shaking.
“You would make a good--” He glanced up at the doorway going into the hotel. “Have to go. Enjoy the rest of
your evening.” He continue to the hotel. On his way, he tossed the crushed cigarette into a nearby trans bin.
With him inside, Taren exhaled and braced her hands on her knees. It felt like she had been in a boxing match
with this man for twelve rounds. She ran her hand over her hair and down her black sheath dress before going
back into the hotel. Taren made it to the ballroom in time to see a picture of her sparring partner on the screen
behind the podium.
Copyright © 2015 by Bridget Midway. All rights reserved.
“Let me go with you.” Connie started to get up from her seat.
“No. Please. I’ll be fine.” Taren never thought her fun-loving parents would be so overbearing. “Enjoy your
dinner.”
Taren strolled briskly down a hallway in the fancy Cavalier Hotel. If nothing else, she could always say that she
had been to the lavish Virginia Beach hotel. She wanted to do it, though, under better circumstances.
Her high, black-and-white strappy heels didn’t allow her to run as fast as she wanted, but she moved quick
enough to be able to whisk by guests milling about in the lobby. At the end of a hallway, she pushed on a set of
double doors to an outside.
She ended up in a place that seemed to come straight from a dream or a fantasy. Lit candles in glass vases
and candle-lit lanterns lined the brick patio flooring. Chaise lounges with white seating cushions lined the sides
to leave room to walk down the center. Soft piano music, piped in through speakers, wafted through the still
night air.
Taren sat in one of the lounges and closed her eyes. If she listened beyond the music and concentrated hard
enough, she heard the ocean waves a block away crashing on the beach. At least she forced her mind to hear
that, to imagine her life on the beach.
She opened her eyes and stared into the darkened garden where she caught something she hadn’t noticed
before. A man stood toward the garden area with his fists on his hips.
From behind, he looked impressive. A tall white man with a head full of dirty blond hair and big feet that would
capture any woman’s attention. She couldn’t wait for him to turn around.
She noticed a white stick in between his fingers. “Lots of candles around here.”
The stranger turned around and the air escaped her body. Even in darkness he looked incredibly enticing.
Shadows highlighted his sleek nose, strong jaw line and full lips.
At first she thought he may have worked at the hotel as a front desk clerk or concierge or manager. The way he
wore the suit, no way could this man be told what to do by someone else.
He moved slowly toward her, stalking her.
“Um, you can use one of the candles to light your cigarette.” She hated the habit, but felt the need to be
accommodating.
The man looked down at the slender addiction between his long fingers. “I bummed this from some waiter out
here, but I wasn’t going to smoke it.” He crushed it in his hand. “Old habits die hard.”
Taren’s clit throbbed as soon as she heard his deep voice. That reaction alone made her sit up and take notice
of this man. As soon as he moved in closer, she noticed his light blue eyes.
Her heart pounded, and all at once, she felt like a schoolgirl again experiencing her first crush. No way could
she feel this way over a stranger. She would blame this reaction on lack of food. Her dinner waited for her in the
ballroom along with her parents’ overprotective nature.
“Know what you mean.” Taren thought about her parents and their need to be so overbearing.
“You look nice.” He scanned her from her head down to her toes.
She thanked the Lord that she’d had a pedicure. Taren swept her hand over her hair that she had styled in an
up ’do.
“Here for a wedding or something?” He looked at the hotel. “This place is known for that.”
“No, here with my parents.” She winced as soon as the words left her mouth. “My dad owns an insurance
company. We’re here for some builders event.”
“But you have no interest in that.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Not really. I don’t know the person being honored. I don’t even know his name or the name of his business. I’m
here to enjoy rubbery chicken.” She lowered her head and voice. “And be treated like a child.”
“What was that?” He moved closer to her.
“Never mind. Are you here for a wedding?” She smiled. “Are you the groom?”
He shook his head. “Not really marrying material. What about you?”
Taren shrugged. “If it were up to my parents, I would be married off to the goober at our table because he looks
safe and reliable, which means he’s boring.”
“Boring might be good for you.”
Taren tilted her head at this stranger’s assessment of her.
He continued. “You’re young.”
“And?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“You don’t know what you want yet. Sometimes it takes someone who’s been there to help guide you.”
Taren bolted to her feet. “The best decision you made tonight had to be that you didn’t smoke that cigarette.
Other than that, you are dead wrong about me.” She started to leave.
“So you didn’t want me smoking?” he asked from behind her.
Despite her better judgment, she stopped and acknowledged him. “It really doesn’t matter what I want. If you
wanted to smoke, I was being polite and letting you know how you can accomplish that. But I think it’s a
disgusting habit. It ruins your teeth, your lungs and your skin. You stink and you make everything around you
smell.”
“Had I lit my cigarette, would you have stayed or gone back into the hotel and rejoined your party?” He took
another step closer to her.
At his close proximity, she caught his intoxicating scent that reminded her of the outdoors, like honeysuckle and
fresh-cut grass. “If you had smoked, I probably would have moved to another spot out here or gone back
inside.”
“What if I wanted you to stay?” He inched in closer. “You know. For conversation. Would you?”
Taren returned his direct stare with one of her own. She wanted him to see that she wouldn’t be bossed
around, at least not by him. She’d had fantasies about being a submissive for a strong dominant man. No
matter how fine she found this man, he had another thing coming if he thought he could rule her.
“No, I wouldn’t.” She hoped she sounded convincing.
He looked like he struggled to not smile. “Interesting.” He sauntered to her. “You have a mind of your own, but
you’re accommodating. You stand strong in your convictions, but can be yielding.”
Taren remained in her spot, but her knees knocked together so hard she felt her body shaking.
“You would make a good--” He glanced up at the doorway going into the hotel. “Have to go. Enjoy the rest of
your evening.” He continue to the hotel. On his way, he tossed the crushed cigarette into a nearby trans bin.
With him inside, Taren exhaled and braced her hands on her knees. It felt like she had been in a boxing match
with this man for twelve rounds. She ran her hand over her hair and down her black sheath dress before going
back into the hotel. Taren made it to the ballroom in time to see a picture of her sparring partner on the screen
behind the podium.
Copyright © 2015 by Bridget Midway. All rights reserved.