Wednesday, October 18, 2006

Lunch Date

Well! I just had my lunch date with Jordan.

We had barely emailed -- last week I had received a brief note and a photo from him. He looked suitably nerd-chic, though the photo was pretty small. So when he suggested we get together I said sure. Yesterday we decided that we'd meet for lunch.

When I got to the restaurant I saw a fellow down at the other end of the building, on a cell phone. I wondered if it was him. But I didn't want to wait around looking like an idiot, either, so I went into the foyer.

Within a minute, the man on the cell phone had had joined me. We made eye contact, and he smiled. He was, yes, quite short. But not bad looking, for all that. I stared at the wall while he finished his conversation. "She's fine. Yeah. I'll talk to you soon."

She's fine. That set off an alarm. The way he said it, the casualness, I don't know, I just thought: married. I had neglected to ask.

As we were seated in the busy dining room, I studied him, thinking, "Is this a man who cheats on his wife? Would I have guessed?" He wore a ring of interlocked silver bands on his ring finger, I noticed. Was he hiding his hand from me? No, wait, that's his right hand...

The waiter came by to announce the specials. I couldn't really listen, cause I was wondering if I should just ask him if he was married -- no, wait: attached. If he was, I would leave. So maybe I shouldn't order after all, if I wasn't planning to stay? Would that be really rude? Wait, he should have told me. Wait, I should have asked. Meanwhile, Jordan told me a bit about his job, and his background. No mention of a wife, I noticed.

He asked me about my penchant for submission. I told him a bit, but I was rather distracted, thinking about his wife, waiting at home for him. "I'm not really experienced, and I think my tastes would fall towards the tamer side of things," I said a little anxiously. "I don't want to give you the wrong idea or anything. I've gotten a lot of emails that make me think I'm not all that submissive," I said, thinking about Pete's bossiness and the email from the rather hostile-sounding man who was looking for a "traditional" woman who liked to cook. "And it would be limited solely to the bedroom," I added for good measure, grinning. "One guy said he wanted me to clean for him. I'm really messy, so that wouldn't work."

"Well, that's not my idea of dominance," he smiled.

Thank God for that.

Eventually he said, "I didn't mention this before, but I have a daughter."

Was that all? "And do you have a wife?" I prompted.

"An ex wife. I'm divorced."

"You're sure? You're not attached at all?"

"No, we're divorced."

Oh. I sighed. "That's a relief. I heard you on the phone and I was sure you were married. Plus, you're wearing a ring."

"That ring cost fifteen dollars. I bought on the street," he said.


"My daughter lives with me. I have a nanny," he added, as if I wouldn't believe him. "My ex wife lives nearby and she sees her all the time." A man with full custody = sounds like a good, or at least involved, father. And if his ex-wife sees their daughter regularly, then they probably have a reasonably polite relationship, which makes me think this guy is a mature adult. Very good.

"Oh .... Do you have a picture of her?"

"No, I don't have one with me."

Once I was convinced Jordan wasn't a cheating scum, I relaxed a bit. He asked me a bit more about my experience, and I told him about last spring, and Craig's List, and about how I discovered my possible submissiveness, and he told me his philosophy of dominance.

"I think I have a big responsibility," he explained, lowering his voice as our waiter whisked my glass away. "It's a like a circle," he went on.

Eh? I thought.

"I get off on being pleased, but a big part of that is knowing that the person gets off on pleasing me. People have asked me if I'm into bondage, or spanking, but I'm not into anything, particularly. It's more about control."

Well. After Pete (who hasn't been in touch) and his roughshod methods, this didn't sound so bad. "What interests you?" he asked.

We were surrounded by waiters and, as Jordan said, lots of government types, since we were right near City Hall. We tried to keep our voices low, though I kept laughing as I talked, relaxing now that I knew he wasn't looking for some adulterous liaison. "Well, I think I'd like being told what to do," I said cautiously. I didn't feel very comfortable going into details while picking at my lamb sandwich garnished with rosemary. I gulped my refreshed Diet Coke. "But like I said, it would be strictly in the bedroom. I don't know if I'd feel comfortable with someone telling me what to wear," I said, thinking of Pete and his demand for "classy but feminine" clothing. ("Classy" strikes me as a thoroughly declasse adjective, as a matter of fact.)

"Oh, I would never do it so other people would know," Jordan said, looking around as he spoke. "It would always just be just between the two of us."

"I wouldn't feel comfortable going out in a corset," I said, just to clarify.

"No, no," he agreed. "But I like the thought that if I asked you to wear a white blouse, you'd think about it beforehand, and wonder if it needed to be dry cleaned, things like that. I like the idea that you'd be making the effort. That's a real turn on, to know that you'd be thinking about it." At this I felt a faint shiver at the backs of my thighs. The idea of this kind of appealed. I mean, on a date, you want to impress, don't you? I liked the idea that going out to dinner meant the pleasant anticipation of deciding what to wear. Of course, as this would be a sexual rather than a romantic relationship, I don't know how much dining out we'd actually be doing.

"Well," I said. "I like to please, but I balk at orders. Like, if you said 'I'd like you to wear this,' I'd probably be happy to do it, but if you said, "Wear this," I would get defensive." I think this about summed it up.

"Oh, of course," he said.

I continued to pick at my food. He was quite short, but not bad looking. Maybe Jewish, I wasn't sure. While he sipped his coffee he said, "Well, I don't know how you feel, but I would get together again..."

"Oh, I'm game," I said, smiling.

Outside the restaurant we shook hands, and he said he'd be in touch and that we'd make a date.

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