Baby Girl Read online

  “So, what are we doing, Erik?” I asked as I watched him turn the corner.

  “We’re getting to know each other, Kelli. We’re beginning a relationship that will consist of a friendship with sex, but no commitment on either of our parts to be in love with the other person. In this relationship, sexually speaking, I will be dominant and you will be submissive. And Kelli, I will fuck you within an inch of your respective life,” he turned and smiled as he said the last part of what he was saying.

  His smile and the looking my direction lingered for a long moment. I began to feel hot. I started to feel an aching in my groin, and I quickly remembered that I was not wearing panties. I started to daydream about having him forcing me to my knees and talking to me dirty.

  “So, uhmm, what was the deal with the question?” I asked, turning to him to see his expression.

  “Which questions, Kelli?”

  “Well, let’s go with the grapefruit and stuff first,” I responded.

  As he sped up through the traffic, he began to speak, “Those, Kelli were just a series of questions I asked you to allow me to understand about what type of person you are without spending a month or two doing so. They, believe it or not, tell me a lot about who you are, not so much what you are.”

  “The chop sticks. That question tells me whether or not you’re a person that has determination. Whether or not you stick to things and apply yourself, or if you give up and or get bored easy. Most white people are not born with the need to use them, and if they develop a means of doing so, it is because they decided to master the task, and spent the time and effort to do it. If they have mastered it, it means that they’re determined. If they can’t it doesn’t mean they aren’t, but it may. Understand?” he turned to me as he asked me the question.

  “Yes sir,” the ‘sir’ just came out so naturally. I didn’t even realize I said it until after it rolled off my tongue. It made me a little uncomfortable knowing and seeing the power this man was going to have over me.

  “The grapefruit question. If you hadn’t ever eaten one, it wouldn’t mean anything, necessarily. This question lets me know if you’re naturally willing to eat something that most people find repulsive. Grapefruit taste sour. They’re somewhat bitter. People that eat them generally eat them because they know that they’re good for them, or because they want to be in good health. It tells me if you’re someone that is willing to, in a sense, make sacrifices for the betterment of you. Make sense?” he asked, as he turned toward the parking lot of an outdoor strip center.

  I nodded, very intrigued by this Erik’s deep mental nature. His being so much different than anyone else I had ever been around made me want to know so much more about him. He actually thought about what he was saying and what he was doing instead of just doing and saying things for the sake of doing it. I had never been so intrigued by anyone. I had never wanted to just open someone up and see all that they had to offer as much as I wanted to do with him, regardless of the amount of the that I had been with them. I had been around Erik for two days, and I wanted to spend whatever amount of time was required to get to know him. As I stared at him in admiration, he began to speak again.

  “The last question what more obvious. The interracial dating, and with an African American man, let me explain. Most of society, right or wrong, perceives a black man with a white woman as being wrong. I am not saying that it is, I am merely saying that’s the general public’s view. So, knowing this, if a white girl has, or will consider going on a date with a black man shows me, or tells me, that she is open-minded. That she will, regardless of what society thinks, go with what she feels in her heart. That she is open minded. That she is not easily swayed or convinced to do what society wishes that she do. She is an individual. Understand, Kelli?” he asked as he parked the car in the lot.

  I looked around to see for sure where we had gone. I had been staring at him the entire trip, and was not certain of where we ended up. He had driven to Bradley Fair, which was an open shopping and eating environment that had several nice restaurants and a lake with a walking path. I was surprised that we had arrived here so soon. I felt that I was in some form of a trance for the trip, because I hadn’t really noticed that we had traveled the ten miles or so to get here from downtown. I was so intrigued by Erik that I had lost all track of time.

  “Yes, I understand. I find you to be quite interesting, Erik,” I said as I reached for the door handle.

  I found myself, when talking to him, to be more conscious of my words, more conscious of how I said things. Not necessarily what I was saying, but how I said it. He was intelligent, very intelligent, but he did not act like it. He dressed like a younger guy, rode a motorcycle, and tried to speak like he was just one of many other men in this city. By just naturally being Erik, he reeked of his intelligence. I felt like such an idiot around him. I tried to choose my words carefully not to embarrass him or me. This was so unlike me. I was almost always the smartest person in the room, and always the smartest girl. Around him, I felt so mall, so vulnerable.

  I opened the door and got out. He got out at the same time, and leaned over the top of the car, and looked at me. As he smiled, I noticed that his face had become more tan, probably from the motorcycle ride all day. His skin was tan, but lacked wrinkles. His face was just like he was; rugged, handsome, intriguing, and gorgeous. I could stare at this guy from now until the end of time.

  “Well, what did you decide?” he asked in a raised tone of voice.

  “Uhhm, excuse me? About what?” I responded.

  “I asked you where you preferred to eat. You stared at me and didn’t respond.”

  “Oh, I am sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. Or something, I, uhmm, didn’t hear you,” I couldn’t even believe I said that. I sounded like a fool.

  “Ok, I will decide,” he said, as he turned and scanned the horizon of buildings.

  “Il Vicino. How does that sound?” he asked, motioning to the Italian restaurant in the corner of the parking lot.

  “Sounds great. I love that place.”

  I walked around toward his side of the car, toward the restaurant. As I got closer to him, he extended his arm, and placed his hand in front of his belt, positioning his elbow out, away from his body.

  “Hold onto my arm, Kelli. Walk beside me, holding my arm. Always walk on my left side, and always hold my arm, understand?” he said as he looked over his shoulder at me.

  I walked to his left side, and wrapped my right arm through his extended arm. As we walked side by side toward the restaurant, I felt warmth, a certain comfort that I have never felt. I felt like he had me here, positioned beside him, to protect me. To make sure that I was comfortable with him, and that I knew he was not only in charge, but that he wanted everyone to know it. I was falling for this guy and I was falling fast.

  He had told me not quite twelve hours ago that he was going to own me. He may or may not know it, but he already did. He could tell me to do anything, right now, and I would do it. All of those questions that he asked me in that long email; I would do every one of them, right now. This guy had a certain presence about him, a certain power. He didn’t express it, he wasn’t pushy or arrogant, but I would do whatever he wanted.

  Pleasing him would make me so happy. As we walked toward the restaurant, I began to wonder if I could actually please him. What if I couldn’t? What if, I tried as hard as I could, and he laughed at me? What if he told me I wasn’t even good enough to be his fuck-buddy? The thought of that began to make me feel ridiculously uncomfortable. As I stumbled over a hole in the parking lot, I realized that we were at the entrance of the restaurant.

  “You alright?” he asked.

  “Yes, I didn’t see the hole in the lot, sorry,” I smiled as I responded. Walking through the entrance, I smelled him again. The smell made my mouth water. The smell made me want to please him.

  “You’ve been here before?” he asked me, nodding toward the menu.

  “Yes, several times.”
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  “Well, Kelli, do you know what you want?”

  Looking over the menu, I decided to get the Cobb salad. It was a great salad.

  “Yes, I do,” I responded.

  The restaurant was a fairly nice Italian restaurant; but the format for it was unique. There was a menu at the entrance, and a cashier at a bar. You ordered at the cashier, and went to your table, and they delivered your food when it was ready. After the initial ordering of the food, it was like any other restaurant, in that it had waiters and waitresses. We stepped to the cashier to order our food.

  “Go ahead, Kelli,” Erik said as we stepped to the bar.

  “No, you go ahead, I am thinking,” I had no idea why I said that, but I did.

  “I will have the Cobb salad,” Erik said, “and a glass of tea.”

  Shit. Now, if I ordered the salad, it would look like I was copying Erik. I didn’t want him to think I wasn’t an individual, especially after all of the questions that he had asked me. Damn it, I really wanted that salad. I stood and thought, and tried to decide what to do.

  “Kelli?” he said as he turned and looked at me.

  “Uhhm. I will, uhmmm, have the lasagna,” I said, not even thinking. Surely they sold lasagna; it was an Italian restaurant, after all.

  “And a glass of water,” I added.

  Erik paid for the food, and we walked to the outside seating area. Watching him walk was hypnotic. He had a very mechanical walk, as if he were programmed to do it. He stood very erect, and moved his arms a little bit, but not too much. He looked straight ahead, but his eyes were attentive to all of the things around him. I enjoyed watching him walk. I daydreamed about watching him walk the length of the parking lot.

  The area was a patio outside, that was surrounded by a stone fence, and trees, open to the outside and sky. A sidewalk separated the seating are from the parking lot. As we picked out table and I began to sit, he pulled my chair out from the table for me.

  “Thank you,” I said. He nodded at me and sat down. As he sat down, he placed the receipt for the food at the center of the table. I noticed that he had folded it into a neat square.

  “What do you want to talk about?” I asked. I felt stupid again, immediately after I asked the question. I felt it was kind of sophomoric of me.

  “Your choice, Kelli,”

  I thought about what we could discuss. I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to eat and fuck. I didn’t even want to eat, I just wanted to fuck. I wanted to show Erik what I was able to do, sexually, and hopefully blow his mind. Making him happy and pleasing him more than he had ever been pleased was at the forefront of my list of things to accomplish today. I decided there was a subject we could talk about, if he would. I decided to try again.

  “What about that long text you sent me, the one with all of the sexual questions? What was all of that about? More psycho-babble stuff?

  “Well, let me ask you this, first, Kelli. How did reading the questions make you feel, as a whole?” he responded.

  I thought about how to respond. I didn’t want him to think I was some weirdo, but I did want him to know I was a sexual freak. I decided to be totally honest, and let him know what I thought, and how they made me feel, and have him decide what was wrong with me.

  “Every one of them turned me on. They made me think, and they made me horny. I answered ‘turn on’ to all of them, mentally. And, the more I thought about them, the more I wanted you to be with me, so we could be doing all of those things,” I answered as I crossed my legs.

  I thought about it after I had responded, and realized that he didn’t say that he wanted to do those things, he was just trying to decide what type of person I was, probably sexually. I really needed to start thinking before I spoke.

  “That is interesting, Kelli. Every one?” he asked, removing his hand from holding his chin, gesturing toward me with his open palm.

  “Yes…every one of them, Erik. I do not know how you selected those questions, or what they may mean to you, but each one of them not only sounded exciting, but they also made me very comfortable with what you might want me to do. Are all of them a turn on or a turn off for you?”

  I decided to try to use his name more when I spoke to him, he did it to me all the time, completing sentences with my name, or preceding a thought or a sentence with my name. I liked it. I liked it a lot. So, maybe if I did it to him, he would like it as much as I did. I crossed my legs the other direction as I waited for his answer.

  “They’re all a turn on for me, Kelli, especially if they’re a turn on for you. Contrary to what you or anyone for that matter thinks about Dominant males, I am probably different than that common stereotype. I want, ultimately, to please you. Making you happy makes me happy,” he paused, took a breath and started speaking again.

  “The thought of disappointing you makes me uncomfortable, extremely uncomfortable.

  Additionally, the thought of making you uncomfortable sexually, or in any way, for that matter, makes me feel terrible. The one advantage I have over many men is this, I have a great understanding of human nature; I know, for the most part, what it is that you want, need, and desire. Maybe more so than you do,” the waiter walked up, and Erik stopped speaking.

  “Water, tea?” the waiter asked. I raised my hand and mouthed the word water to the waiter.

  As the waiter walked away, I started talking, “So, pleasing me makes you happy? You want to….” In mid-sentence Erik interrupted me.

  “Kelli, stop. Stop speaking. Lean over here. Come here, Kelli,” he said as he leaned to the middle of the table.

  I leaned forward, wondering what I had done wrong. I hoped that I did not make him mad, that I did not disappoint him, or make him uneasy with my answers or my questions. When I got to the middle of the table, he moved my hair to the side, and spoke into my ear. As he did his breath went into my ear, and made me shiver. When he did this, it made me feel weak, and instantly made me want him…

  “Who, Kelli, owns you? Right now, right here, who owns you?” he asked.

  I felt a lump in my throat as I started to answer. I opened my mouth to answer, but the words came out as a whisper and a squeak.

  “You….you do. You do, sir,” the words were barely audible.

  “Kelli, who owns you?”

  As he asked again, he took the finger from his free hand, and started sliding it back and forth across my right nipple. I felt as if I was being shocked. Oh my God, what was he doing to me? Whatever it was I loved it. I felt like I was going to vomit I was so excited. This was a degree of feelings that I had never felt before. He had me more excited by whispering these things in my ear than I had ever been actually being with a guy. He made me feel better sexually, by whispering things to me…these things, than any other man made me feel by actually touching my flesh.

  “You do, Erik. I am yours. You own me,” I leaned my head to one side, and looked up into his steel blue eyes as I answered.

  I no more than made eye contact, and he slid his hand from beside my face, and holding my hair, to the base of my neck. Cradling my neck in his hand, he squeezed my neck in his hand, and turned my head back to where it was. Continuing to hold my neck in his hand, he began to talk again, whispering into my ear lightly.

  “That’s a good girl. Yes, I do. I own you. You’re making me proud of you with your answers, Kelli,” he responded. His mouth was almost to touch my ear. His warm breath against my ear and neck made me shiver again. Although it was 80 degrees out, I could feel goose bumps rise on my arms and legs.

  “Now, Kelli, what are you going to do when I ask you to do something? Something sexual? What are you going to do?” he asked.

  Each time he spoke, his hand tightened on my neck slightly. When he was done speaking, he would release my neck from his grasp and cradle it in his hand.

  “Do it, without hesitation. Do it.” I said. The words came out of my mouth immediately. They actually came off of my tongue before I even thought about it. He was amazing at getting into
my mind. I crossed my legs the other direction again. As I did, I could feel myself running down my leg, and down the crack of my ass. I was so wet that it was running down my legs. I re-crossed my legs, and as I did, I actually heard the wetness. I hoped that he didn’t hear it. This was embarrassing. I felt as if I was putty in his hands as his grip loosened from my neck.

  “Continue,” he said, and leaned back into his chair.

  I didn’t want this to end. This was better than sex. Oh. My. God. No, come back; squeeze my neck, whisper in my ear. How could he do that? How could he, in the middle of this, just stop and lean back into his chair? This was more than I could take. Naturally, I crossed my legs again, trying to become comfortable. I heard the squishing sound of my wetness and felt it running down my legs. Oh shit, I was wearing a dress. I was going to have a wet spot.

  “Hold that thought, Erik. I have to use the bathroom,” I said as I stood.

  I walked inside and to the bathroom, feeling as if I had spilled something all over my lap. I grabbed a handful of paper towels from the dispenser, and went into one of the stalls. Standing in front of the toilet, I put one of my feet onto the rim of the toilet, and the other on the floor. I lifted my dress up and took the paper towels and tried to wipe up the mess. It felt as if I was wiping with sandpaper. I looked at the moist towels, and strangely felt somewhat satisfied. I tossed them into the toilet, and grabbed a handful of toilet paper. I grabbed a handful of toilet paper and attempted to wipe up the remaining mess. The toilet paper broke up into pieces, and rolled into little wet balls on my thighs and ass. This. Was. Ridiculous. I grabbed another handful and dabbed against myself until it was dry. I opened the stall door and began to walk back outside, feeling both embarrassed and satisfied at the same time.

  As I walked through the door from the inner restaurant into the outside, I started to walk past a table of guys my age. My nipples were still so hard that it almost hurt. My period was way too close. Hopefully Erik and I could have some crazy sex before it started. As I walked past, I heard one say, “Look at that bitch. I’d fuck the shit out of her. Sexy whore. Dude, look,” and I saw him nod his head my direction. I walked past, acting like I didn’t hear them. Just like being in a bar, people have no respect for women. Thinking it is one thing, but saying it, especially where someone can hear? That’s so far beyond inconsiderate. I stepped to the table and sat down. When I did, Erik looked a little uneasy.