gestures, but now she was lucky to get a sympathetic kiss on the cheek from the elderly door man in her building. Turning back to her glass and the envelope, she carried them from the kitchen to the living room, leaving the haunting memories of love and romance to play out on the streets without her. Opting for the sofa instead of the kitchen table, she sat down and sipped her wine before turning her attention to the envelope in front of her. Odd, but then again, with everyone she knew either getting married or having babies it was more than likely just an invitation to one more event that would give her an excuse to shop for a new pair of shoes and an overpriced gift. She pulled the ribbon, and the envelope fell open as her breath caught in her throat. The contents of the envelope were even more stunning than the envelope itself. Gold filigree bordered the deep black satin-textured background, while gold-embossed text rose from the flat card. The inscription there, however, was more cryptic than the mysterious envelope.
The moment I saw you, I knew, yours is the only submission I crave. The choice is yours to make, but if you’ll take a chance, the reward will be more than worth the risk. -E
She ran through the list of people in her life who might have sent the letter, but no one stuck out. A momentary panic had her looking around to make sure the doors and windows were locked as she thought about all the books and movies that started with a stalker ’ s note, but usually those letters were made out of cut up magazines, not the stunning calligraphy of the one she received. Shrugging it off as one of her friends trying to make her feel better about being single, she smiled and thought maybe she should have sent herself flowers like she used to do in college to ward off her match-making roommate.
She finished her glass of wine and dropped the letter in the trash as she went to pour a second. A hot bath and a good night’s sleep, maybe a date with the realty listings for some place that didn’t feel so lonely was in order, but instead of heading to the bathroom, she found herself picking the beautiful note out of the trash. Something about it called to her — the word “submission . ” A secret she kept hidden, only Deacon, a handful of people from the BDSM scene, and the man who introduced her to the lifestyle would have known that “submission” would mean something to her. There were so few people in the world who knew about her predilection for submission that it had to mean whoever sent the note knew her and wouldn’t be trying to hurt her . Or at least she hoped that was the case, because the alternative was more like something she’d watch on one of her favorite crime shows than her own reality.
She wished she knew more about who sent it or what it meant, but the subtle scent of expensive cologne that wafted up from the paper and the fantasy of some gorgeous stranger admiring her and willing enough to go to all that trouble would get her through the night. Setting the card and envelope on her night stand then her wine glass on the side of the tub, she turned on the hot water as high as it would go and dumped in a handful of salts. A few lit sandalwood candles combined with the dimmed lights, she felt herself finally begin to relax.
She stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, poking and prodding her face, as the tub filled to the brim. The stress of her job in high finance was starting to show in the lines on her skin, but thirty-four seemed a bit young for wrinkles and Botox. She pulled her long, dark hair up into a loose top knot and began stripping out of her clothes, making a mental note to hit the tanning bed and spend a few extra minutes in the gym, and yet, her attention kept being pulled elsewhere. The mystery letter caught the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t help but smile sli ghtly at her secret admirer.
Rissa slipped slowly into the hot water and lay back as the water and the scent
The moment I saw you, I knew, yours is the only submission I crave. The choice is yours to make, but if you’ll take a chance, the reward will be more than worth the risk. -E
She ran through the list of people in her life who might have sent the letter, but no one stuck out. A momentary panic had her looking around to make sure the doors and windows were locked as she thought about all the books and movies that started with a stalker ’ s note, but usually those letters were made out of cut up magazines, not the stunning calligraphy of the one she received. Shrugging it off as one of her friends trying to make her feel better about being single, she smiled and thought maybe she should have sent herself flowers like she used to do in college to ward off her match-making roommate.
She finished her glass of wine and dropped the letter in the trash as she went to pour a second. A hot bath and a good night’s sleep, maybe a date with the realty listings for some place that didn’t feel so lonely was in order, but instead of heading to the bathroom, she found herself picking the beautiful note out of the trash. Something about it called to her — the word “submission . ” A secret she kept hidden, only Deacon, a handful of people from the BDSM scene, and the man who introduced her to the lifestyle would have known that “submission” would mean something to her. There were so few people in the world who knew about her predilection for submission that it had to mean whoever sent the note knew her and wouldn’t be trying to hurt her . Or at least she hoped that was the case, because the alternative was more like something she’d watch on one of her favorite crime shows than her own reality.
She wished she knew more about who sent it or what it meant, but the subtle scent of expensive cologne that wafted up from the paper and the fantasy of some gorgeous stranger admiring her and willing enough to go to all that trouble would get her through the night. Setting the card and envelope on her night stand then her wine glass on the side of the tub, she turned on the hot water as high as it would go and dumped in a handful of salts. A few lit sandalwood candles combined with the dimmed lights, she felt herself finally begin to relax.
She stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, poking and prodding her face, as the tub filled to the brim. The stress of her job in high finance was starting to show in the lines on her skin, but thirty-four seemed a bit young for wrinkles and Botox. She pulled her long, dark hair up into a loose top knot and began stripping out of her clothes, making a mental note to hit the tanning bed and spend a few extra minutes in the gym, and yet, her attention kept being pulled elsewhere. The mystery letter caught the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t help but smile sli ghtly at her secret admirer.
Rissa slipped slowly into the hot water and lay back as the water and the scent
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