“Hold your finger under here,” he said, dragging her hand toward the now flowing faucet.
“Sorry I’m such a klutz. This has to be ruining your plans.”
“Nonsense. You have nothing to apologize for. It looks like you need to calm down a little, though. What’s got you stressed? Is it tonight? Are you worried?”
She shrugged as the water sluiced over her finger. “Maybe a little,” she finally whispered when he narrowed his eyes at her in the mirror.
Putting his hands on her shoulders, he gave a gentle squeeze. “It’s going to be OK, baby. I promise. Just relax. We’re having some fun, that’s all.”
“I’ll try.” She still sounded worried, though.
“I’ll be right back. Keep the water on your finger.”
He sprinted to his bedroom where he had a first aid kit. Inside, he found burn cream and a bandage. Back in the guest bathroom, he gently took care of her finger and bandaged it. He would have to be mindful of her injury while playing tonight. That was still hours away though, so there was time for some of the pain to subside. After making her drink a glass of water and take some ibuprofen, he presented her with the flowers and she grinned, planting a kiss on his cheek.
“I just need a few more minutes to get ready. Will you put these in some water for me?”
While he waited for her to finish getting ready, he found a glass pitcher and filled it with water, arranging the flowers in it as best he knew how.
When she emerged from the bedroom, he inhaled sharply. Her makeup was subtle but perfect for her features. Blond curls framed her face, and the stripe of blue he had grown to love was on display, thanks to the way she’d swept her hair up. The dress she wore was a delightful shade of pink that made him think of beaches and cocktails. It was tight in all the right places, yet still elegant enough for a conservative D.C. restaurant. She would be a sharp contrast next to him in his all black outfit.
“Ready to go?” he asked, offering her his arm. “You look perfect.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, slipping her arm through his.
Together, they walked toward the door. At the coat closet, he stopped and pulled out a large black bag on wheels.
“Your bag of tricks, I presume, Sir?” She sounded less nervous than she had when he arrived home.
“Indeed, Miss Davenport.” He winked and tugged her out the door.
The car ride to the restaurant was mostly silent, with Carrie staring out the window and Peter mulling over various ideas for getting her into a submissive mindset.
When they pulled into the restaurant, Peter drove to the valet stand.
“Stay there. I’ll get your door,” he instructed before stepping out of the car and handing the valet attendant his keys.
After opening her door, he laced his fingers with hers and they walked into the restaurant together. While they waited for their table, he let go of her hand and put his hand on the back of her neck. Slowly, he slid his fingers into her hair, tugging just enough to get her attention. Then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek, which was warming as she blushed. The hostess motioned for them to follow her to their table. As part of his effort to keep her comfortable and afford them some privacy, Peter had requested a table in the back corner of the restaurant, and the staff had accommodated him.
Now he leaned back in his chair, watching her fidget with her silverware. No time like the present to ease her into a submissive mindset.
“Did you skip the panties like I told you to?”
Her head flew up, and she gasped. “Peter! We’re in public,” she hissed.
He raised one eyebrow. “I believe I told you, I prefer Sir. And what does being in public have to do with anything? I just asked a simple question.” Looking around them he said, “You can either answer, or I can slide my chair closer to you and find out for myself.”
22
CARRIE stared at Peter in disbelief. They were really doing this.
“Do I need to repeat myself?”
Carrie took a deep breath and shook her head. “No, Sir.”
Peter beamed. “Better. Now answer the original question.”
“I’m not wearing any panties.” She looked over her shoulder.
