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She undid the towel wrapped around her modest frame and placed on the hook next to her shower. Sliding the curtain aside, she gingerly dipped her right foot into the bathtub, and she was instantly greeted with the warmth of the water as it enveloped around her.

Letting out a long breath, she placed her left foot inside and nestled down into the bath. She could feel the intensity of heat as the water brushed up against her shivering body.

The weather outside was always unpredictable and today was no different. It was supposed to be warm outside, but instead she had worn so many layers of clothing to school she thought it was ridiculous. Why do those weathermen get paid if they can't tell us what I have to wear?

Ah well, that was the worries of earlier today, and those thoughts slipped easily into the background of her mind.

To the forefront emerged a lone figure, and he was not at all a stranger to her. Not a stranger to occupying her thoughts that is.

While she had never technically crossed paths with him, she felt a closeness she could not put into words.

And trust in the fact she had tried to do so on many an occasion. He had fallen into her lap through the circuits and static of the information superhighway. And she has not let him stray from her ever since, though that has been quite the challenge.

She chuckled at that thought, as her right thigh emerged from underneath the water and her hands absently ran soap across her smooth skin.

As she continued to wash her legs, she could not help but notice the uneasy feeling in her gut. Her abdomen was completely tied in knots, and she felt as if someone had unleashed a bevy of butterflies within her.

Hardly could she really complain at the fluttering that occupied her tummy, as she has long since had this sort of feeling for anyone, let alone someone she had not physically met.

Someone she could touch.

Look into his eyes.

Someone she could hold.

Place his hand within her own.

Someone she could simply see.

Inhale the rarity of his presence.

She had waited for so long, playing an extended game of cat and mouse with her quarry. Though at this stage, truth be known, she was uncertain if she was not in fact the one being hunted.

The thrill of the chase. Of the hunt.

And it was nearing its end.

The final stanza.

Climax.

She turned her attention to her shoulders, and then spreading the suds across the length of her arms.

What will he be like?

Will he be all that she has hoped for?

All that he has seemed to be?

This wasn't something she really did often. Yeah, sure, she had met people online and even ventured out to meet them before. A couple here and there. However, when it comes right down to it, those encounters have never lived up to her expectations.

For the most part, each episode has been one she would rather forget than hold on to for even the length of time it takes to brush her teeth. Oh, she thought, I need to make sure to do that before I go.

It was unusual for her to think the first time they would meet would be at night and she very well may spend the entirety of it with him.

She considered that for a moment. Doesn't that sound awful?

Who in their right mind meets someone for the first time and stays the night? What does that say to him about her? What does it speak of about her in general?

She buried her face in her hands, and after a few moments she just started laughing at herself.

It turned out to be quite the chuckle, and while she attempted to recover by closing her eyes and resting her head on the back of her bathtub, a loud shrill echoed throughout the bathroom startling her.

Her phone.

She reached out of the tub, grabbed the towel, and as she dried her hand she flipped open her cell phone. As she went to place the phone to her ear while still clutching into it with her towel, the phone slipped from her grasp. As it fell softly on the mat, she scooped it up and realized it was him.

"Sorry! I dropped you."

Oh, jeesh. What a klutz she was.

"I hope you don't mean for tonight?" was his reply.

He always was like that. So in control. He came across so cool, calm, and collected.

It only heightened her already intense fascination with him.

"No! Definitely not! I mean, of course we're still on for tonight, right?"

She stammered out her reply, the cool air leaking in through the bathroom door she had carelessly left slightly ajar.

"I can think of no better way to spend my evening than with your company, sweetheart. So I hope today went well? How was class?"

He was using that voice.

God, he always got to her with it. He was doing it on purpose, this she knew, and it was already starting to drive her wild.

It was so low and soothing. Almost hypnotic with the way he spoke. He had gotten her to say and do quite a few things she never thought she would using this voice. Grrrr!

"What's with the voice," she inquired playfully, hoping to provoke him, "you know what it does to me."

She could have sworn she heard him laugh, but if she did it was so abbreviated that she left it alone.

"I'm just trying to find out how your day went, dear, I thought that was something you liked about me?"

What a tease. He always did this, playing her own words back on her. Daring her to a battle of wits, a game in which he adored engaging in, but above all else one he absolutely loved winning.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. It was okay. I had to teach again today, and I really enjoyed the outcome of the lesson plan I made. I think it was well-received."

She tried to stay on topic, something he made difficult, as she began to drip dry in her bathroom.

Continuing in his awfully enticing voice, he said, "Well, that's good. Would that be the lesson plan you almost didn't finish?"

At which point he began whistling as if he was innocent of any treachery.

Of course, he was not.

"Oh, right, as if you had nothing to do with that. You know between school, work, and trying to sleep it was hard enough. Add you into the mix and I'm worn out!" she stated firmly but with an excited hint in her tone.

He smiled on the other end.

A smile for none to see.

"So you're saying I have worn you out, are you?"

The smile gone. Now he was grinning widely on the other end of the line.

"Yeah, that was lame. So you mentioned you had a request for me to wear?" she inquired with great consternation and an abundance of trepidation.

"I do."

Hmmmm. What was he up to?

"Okay. Well, what is it?"

He wasted no time in replying.

"What are your measurements. I will have a few gifts for you when you arrive later this evening."

She got very quiet. Unsure how to accept this statement and in what way to process it, she was at a loss for words. What was he up to? She doesn't just tell anyone her size! And what were their plans anyway? He always hinted at a surprise she'd love, and he'd never come off his stance of not sharing any information on what that was.

"So? What are they, sweetheart?"

She gave in.

His voice.

Intoxicated with his smooth delivery and tantalizing personality, she rattled off the figures and asked once more what his plan was.

"You'll see tonight. I'll expect you at not a moment after 8 o'clock, deal?"

"Deal."

"Guess you better hurry up and finish getting ready then, huh? Oh, and I hope you like surprises."

She was about to reply when he cut her off.

"See you soon, dear. Mwah!

Click.

What was she doing?

What has she gotten herself into?

How was he able to make her feel so alive?

So real.

When for so long she felt so alone.

So out of touch.

Was he real?

She could only hope as she glanced down at the time on her phone.

She would find out soon enough.

Only a few hours away now.

There she stood.

Just a short ride away from everything she wanted and feared.

There was a sense of finality to it all.

This born in that of a new beginning.

Her mind had been racing all day, and it seemed rather intent on continuing to do so for a good while longer. He seemed so smug and confident when he spoke with her, and she could hardly say it wasn't an attractive quality. In fact, it was one of the things she liked most about him.

For reasons she could not explain, he simply had this way about him that came across as confident and even a bit conceited while maintaining a shred of modesty. Almost as if he was simply stating a commonly shared idea when he spoke glowingly about himself.

After some thought, he probably was. She found him to be everything he had said and so much more. The leaves of sincerity that tumbled so easily as he spoke were caught up in the winds of their courtship and were swirling about her from head to toe.

She felt like she knew him on so many levels.

It was as if she had known him for years before they spoke, and after conversing he only cemented that feeling. There was a connection between the two that was undeniable to either part, and he often spoke of her, which drove her wild.

All of this when she simply was browsing online and reading about random individual's personal lives to pass the time late one evening.

Now look at where that curious glimpse into his life had seated her.

At the altar of making a change in her life that she did not expect nor entirely desire when they crossed paths.

Never was it her intention to actually coax along a potential personal relationship from her online escapades. Idle chatter was one thing, but to develop such a deep and intimate personal affection for someone through cable wire and telephone lines?

Almost unthinkable.

Almost.

There she stood in tight blue jeans and a form-fitting burgundy shirt as she sneaked a peak in her mirror.

Looking at her reflection, she pondered whether it was too overt for the evening's affairs. While she was presenting a rather casual attitude, she didn't want to come off as attempting to show off her delicate curves.

Truth be told, she was never very secure with her body, and that lack of comfort has taken her years to come to grips with.

It was a double-edged sword for her, really, either someone was only enticed by her physical features or they wrote her off due to those very same traits.

Don't mistake her, though, she was not at all displeased with the way she looked, in fact in recent time she had learned to appreciate her beauty all the more and find ways to accentuate it, but her body would always be a source of both pride and frustration.

She enjoyed some photos of herself, yet others she despised. It had little to do with herself, but more the feeling each picture represented. It became a way of life almost for her to live through these moments.

You are only young once.

Savor those precious seconds before one turns old and gray.

So she straightened the shirt some, and adjusted the way the jeans hugged her hips, and still she was unsatisfied.

She retreated to her closet and began rummaging once more for something a little less provocative.

Buzz.

Thump.

Rubbing her head frantically, as she hit her head on the clothes rod in her closet, she stumbled into her bedroom to turn off her alarm.

Earlier she had set it to allow herself ample time to leave so as not to be late for her date, if she could even call it that.

Trying to catch her breath and not freak out, she again pondered another shirt to wear.

Looking down in her hands they contained one simple off-white blouse. Now, for some reason this seemed the perfect thing to wear, and she shrugged it on after quickly discarding her previous top.

Her keys?

Her purse?

Her wallet?

Her cell phone?

All of the identification one would need under any given circumstance?

Check.

She pulled the door to her apartment closed, and locked it behind her. Staring briefly at the wooden frame, she considered the prospect of never again returning to the confines of her home again the same person as she is leaving it.

Ordinarily this would give her great worry in such a pause, but for some indescribable concept she found a serenity in it all.

Pleased.

Nervous.

Excited.

Scared.

Alive.

So very alive, she felt, and it had been so long since someone was capable of stoking the hidden embers within smoldering flames she kept deep inside and away from all.

Whatever the outcome, she was going to be different, and for some reason this was not a bad thing.

Not bad at all.

Descending the stairs with a hop, skip, and a small leap she landed cleanly in front of her car. Unlocking her door, she seated herself smoothly behind the wheel, shut herself in, and began the long trek to see the prospective new firefly in her jar.

Fiddling with the radio, she flipped from station to station and from song to song without much of anything capable of stemming her nerves.

As if anything could at this moment.

Finally, she shut it off in favor of her CD player. What a Godsend it was for long drives alone to and from new places and new experiences, she thought.

Oh, my.

Figures.

The disc she had left in her car was a burned copy of an artist he had turned her on to. She was a singer born in Canada with a powerful voice and a tender heart. The artist's life has led her all over the world, though, and in some ways she has lived as a gypsy. A traveller with something to say. Something to sing, and sing she could.

The artist's name? Tara MacLean.

The music had such a soothing tone that it would at various times in her car ride steal her away from her thoughts of the impending meeting and lead her back more toward a state of numbed bliss.

Such a beautiful voice, she thought, when arguably her favorite Tara song came on the radio as the first wave of lazy raindrops pelted her car.

"Let Her Feel The Rain"

How appropriate was that?

Either an omen of good fortune to come or a portent of concern. She took it for the former, and discarded the latter almost as quickly as the thought popped into her head.

Here she was driving along the interstate with a rainstorm falling from the overhead skies and she was settled warmly inside her car singing along to a song that made her feel beautiful.

He often said that of her.

She was beautiful.

Don't guys always say that to you?

Especially one so charming as he, and with as many females as he has that covet his attention and his affection.

Yet right now she felt beautiful.

And sexy.

She was wearing some of her most enticing underwear beneath her clothes, and she was enjoying every moment of it.

The anticipation.

The trepidation.

The desire.

Hell, she was just excited to finally have some reason to wear them. Shopping for cute bras and panties was something she loved to do, as her plethora of Victoria's Secret receipts could attest.

In their conversations she knew that he had a fondness for thongs, and on this night she was not going to disappoint him, and while he was a fan of large chests, she could only hope she lived up to his desires.

Why was that?

Why did he matter so much?

He should like me for me, she thought.

Agh! He did. She knew he did.

Would her skin even see the light of his eyes, she wondered. It wasn't that she was easy, far from it, she had not been intimate with someone since her last relationship quite a while previously. In fact, this had been the longest she had gone without the tactile touch of another since she began dating period.

Was he worthy?

Would he even want her?

Quiet.

One step at a time.

Just be yourself, she thought.

Repeat that.

Be yourself.

Ring.

Her phone! Good Lord, it scared her half to death. She quickly turned the music down and flipped open her phone without even bothering to look at the person calling.

It was him.

"Hey you," she said excitedly, "I'll be there shortly."

"Of course. Nervous?"

"How'd you know?" she countered.

"Because I know you, silly girl. So I like your choice of music."

"Oh, yeah, isn't that ironic?"

"Wrong Canadian. That would be Alanis. Ick."

"That was bad." She laughed.

"You smiled, so how bad could it be?"

"Gr, you! So what's my surprise? Tell me!" she pleaded earnestly which seemed very much like it was bordering on whining.

"You'll see soon enough. I was just calling to make sure you were alright with the rain and all."

She nervously chuckled, "I am. This isn't my first time driving in it."

"Good. I'll let you focus on driving then. Oh, one other thing, I'm leaving my front door unlocked so just let yourself in. Bye, sweetheart."

With that he hung up the phone.

Damnit.

Why does he do that?

So unfair of him.

She turned the music back up, and listened to the rest of the song, another one of her favorites by Tara, and continued her drive.

Now I don't know what to believe This girl made of steel with Her heart on her sleeve Looking for someone To love and leave me That's me

"That's Me" by Tara Maclean

Those lines always had resonated deep within her, almost as if they had been written, recorded, and sung just for her. Heart on her sleeve. Someone to leave.

So her.

That's me, she thought to herself.

Not tonight.

She pulled up outside of a white house peeking out behind a line of bushes with a long driveway and a screened-in porch. It was only one story, and the house's steps led up to a wooden framed door with a large knocker on the front.

Checking the address and description for the fifth time, she was so tempted to call him.

She didn't.

Instead she dialed her parents number and spoke to her mother, just letting her know she was safe and that she would talk with her later. It was a short conversation, and she was stalling.

Enough.

Bravely, she climbed out of her car, beeped the locks behind her as she ascended the walkway that escorted her between the hedges and up to the front door.

As she took the knocker in her hand to knock, the door creaked open, and the mist of small raindrops brushed against her exposed skin. It was very windy here.

She said a brief hello as she crept inside, closing the door behind her, when she heard a voice from another room.

"I'm in here, sweetheart."

She opened the double doors that led from the entry hall to the den, and the house was completely dark. Not a room in the house had even one light on.

Then she saw from beneath the door leading to the right a flickering of illumination.

She pushed open the door and she saw him sitting in the dark with two large candles on the dining room table dancing about the room.

On the walls she could make out a few paintings, a shelf here, and a china cabinet there.

Seated at the table he sat, and she looked down and there was a chair directly opposite him already pulled out.

"Please, be seated."

That was it.

He said nothing else.

She stared at him, the light from the candles wavering back in forth in his eyes like a firecracker dances on the ground as it reaches its term.

Such beautiful eyes he had.

Pulling the chair in behind her, she finally examined the contents of the table.

There was a beautiful tablecloth made of a silky fabric with a deep blue hue to it, and resting on top off to the side was a large package wrapped in gift paper with a bow and some ribbons adorning it.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

His fingers drummed the table before her, and she looked between him and noticed that there were three large white bowls covered on the table.

"I thought you might be hungry after your drive over, and I could think of nothing sweeter to dine on than you.

So I prepared the next best thing."

With that he removed the covers and she saw some of the most plump and fresh strawberries she had observed in quite a while.

"They look delicious." she said as she reached to take one.

He rapped her hand slightly, and motioned her away.

Standing up, she took in his full frame, and he towered over her, which only added to her feeling of helplessness.

Something that is so unusual for her considering how much she craves being in control.

He was with her and they each knew it.

"Close your eyes."

She did as he asked with slight hesitation.

How foolish could she be.

Walking around the table, he stopped and knelt down before her, uncovered the other two bowls, took out a strawberry, and dipped it into one.

All of a sudden she felt it upon her lips, soft and creamy to the touch, chilled, and very sweet to the taste before the rough texture of the strawberry became apparent. She bit down and began to eat the piece of fruit from his very hand.

It was some sort of sweetened whipped cream he had immersed it in and she was quite approving.

He again coated another strawberry, and pressed it softly to her lips.

With her eyes still closed, the other senses were more in tune with her surroundings and his rhythmic breathing heightened her already sudden yet deep arousal.

He was feeding her.

So gently.

So sweetly.

And so perfectly.

The next piece of strawberry was dipped in a thick and viscous coating, and when she tasted it she immediately could tell it was a quality chocolate he had melted for her.

Such a deep obsession she had with anything chocolate.

She adored every bit of the strawberry, and as she was finished she gently began to kiss his lingering fingertips as he traced them softly across her lips.

Giggling, she couldn't really contain herself, she had to say it.

"What a surprise this was. Wow."

"Surprise?" he inquired. "I haven't even yet begun."

She stammered in her, well, surprise at his comment.

"What exactly do you mean? There's more to this night?" she inquired in a bashful tone, finding it difficult to meet his piercing gaze.

He had yet to remove his eyes from her form since she had entered the room. It did not exactly make her uncomfortable, in fact she almost delighted in the intense attentiveness, but she was a bit taken aback by his powerful presence.

She shouldn't have been.

From the moment she first met him she could sense that he was different. Confidence is something so many guys she has met attempt to display, but if she had learned one thing in her numerous forays into the world of males it was that most paint a false portrait of bravado about themselves and bathe in it daily.

It is as if the guy becomes so engrossed in his own image that it dominates every topic of any conversation. You end up walking away half wanting to laugh but mostly wanting to cleanse yourself from the oil spill you just traversed.

Just too slick.

These guys were pretenders, and he was anything but that.

When he moved, he did so without concern for how he presented himself. His posture was of no concern. She was his focus.

As he looked into her eyes, worried not was he with whether she returned his stare and gave him her attention. He was only interested in her. Memorizing each detail with each passing moment.

Every line on her face and every hair out of place, he committed time and thought to each. Spiraling around her with every breath she exhaled, it was as if in these brief seconds together she had become his world and he her moon.

The security with which she felt right now was almost tangible. She could feel the warmth of his body only inches from her own.

While he radiated warmth, she felt the chill of the blustery evening on her skin. It was almost as if he had windows open throughout the house, and the wind had snaked its way from room to room to encircle around her in an envelope of winter bliss.

She shook at the thought, and the sudden vibration of her body startled her and she let out a sound.

"Eeep!"

Laughter.

She saw his face for the first time change from inquisitive and searching to relaxed as he enjoyed her misstep.

"Stop laughing at me!" she pleaded with him, hardly serious in her request.

He stopped and scanned the floor before returning his sight to her and a smile overtaking him again.

"Fear not, dear maiden, I see no mouse."

With that he bowed deeply in mocking fashion and continued with a kiss of her delicate hand.

His hand was warm to the touch, and so very firm in comparison to her slender fingers that seemed almost ice cold. Instantly she felt a tingling sensation wash over her beginning at the birthplace of their connection -- her hand in his own.

Secretly she wondered if he knew just what an effect he was having on her. He bent his head down and she could not help but close her eyes for this. His soft lips pressed so gently to her skin, and she felt the excitement stir within her as suddenly as a screeching bottle rocket soars off so immediately into the night sky.

She felt as if she could almost take flight along with it.

At the very least she was hovering well above the Earth at this point, if only it be his desire propelling her to such heights.

That was enough.

So much more than enough, she thought, before she realized his lips no longer remained planted on her hand, as she opened her eyes and saw a sparkle in his own.

He was watching her so intently and with an almost reverence that she found so indelible, she could never wash him away from her.

She was now stained.

And she never felt so alive.

"You may want to breathe."

Stopping, she felt her cheeks stinging red by his comment as she began once again breathing softly. She did not even realize she had been without breath, and mortified would be an understatement as to the way she now felt.

What a foolish girl she must be to him.

So flighty and wistful was she, while he was so calculated and reserved. What was she doing and why did she feel such an attraction to him?

Then she returned her gaze to him and caught sight of something she would never forget no matter the number of days she would walk this land henceforth.

His eyes?

Closed.

He was breathing softly.

She wasn't sure what exactly he was doing.

Ah.

He was absorbing the situation. Listening to her breathe again. He did not even bother to look upon her as she was lost in the burning of her cheeks and the embarrassment of her gaffe. She began breathing and he simply wanted to listen and absorb the experience of it.

Wherever does one find such a man and how did she stumble upon such?

She closed her eyes as well, and they sat there for an indeterminable amount of time, though she would gauge it as "quite a while" in later recollections.

And yet it was one of the purest forms of intimacy she had ever experienced.

She heard movement. He was stirring, but she dared not steal a glimpse for fear of ruining the feeling or making another mockery of herself.

Shame was not something she wore well at all, regardless if she suspected it would matter little if he saw it or not.

The floor creaked awkwardly behind her, and she surmised he must be there. What was he doing and why had he not said anything?

Suddenly his voice exploded softly in her head as he whispered into her ear.

"No one has ever looked more beautiful than you this very moment. And I know from deep within me that no one ever shall, save the tolling of wedding bells."

What does one say to that?

How does she reply?

She doesn't.

She sits there, in stunned silence as an emotional maelstrom gathers within her rendering no space within her tummy free from its assault.

Butterflies alight and flutter about her head, as she is lost in the dense thicket of an enchanted forest he has cultivated for her on his very own.

What siren's song could be more soothing or elegant to a wayward sailor than the chiming of the very bells that have been the ultimate objective of all?

There was no more time.

No more thoughts.

No more of anything.

She was alone on a sandy shore with the sun shining down as the foamy waters wash up and wet her feet before recoiling to the comforts of the deep only to do it again mere moments later.

And off in the distance there beats a flag wavering furiously upon the mast of a ship she can barely make out. After several moments of intense concentration, she discerns the heraldry symbol is a solitary red rose suspended in an ocean blue mist and she did not know why.

Still she sat there lost in her own thoughts unaware of time or any other concept so important to us all.

When something soft and delicate brushed her nose.

The fog seemed to clear as her eyes slowly opened and she looked down his arm to his right hand holding a solitary long-stemmed red rose before her, gently grazing her nose with its petals.

"I present to you, my lady, a red rose symbolizing my deepest affections for you. Should it ever wound you, know that you long ago pricked me with the thorn of your love and still to this day I have not stopped bleeding, my love."

She took the rose from him, and realized it had a sweet fragrance to it unlike any other flower she had ever encountered, certainly not a rose.

What more could he do?

Sensory overload had never seemed more appropriate.

"Come, sweet heart, I still have something to show you."

She stood up from her chair, her legs unable to support her at first, as she fought to regain her balance. Whoa.

Slowly turning to see what he was doing as she held her rose to her chest with both hands gripping it, she saw him scoop up the large box and place it on the chair beside her.

"Open it."

He offered to take the flower from her hands, and she obliged, attempting to stem her vigor to rip open the package, she meticulously began unbinding the tape holding it together and untying the ribbon's knots.

"Oh, please, tear it up."

The look on her face with such permission was that of a c***d on Christmas morning. She eagerly tore at the packaging before all that stood before her was a plain white box.

Inside revealed something she never expected.

A beautiful evening gown.

Magnificent in its splendor, the white dress was an exact replica of that worn by actress Drew Barrymore in the film Ever After. Complete with faery tale wings, and even a magic wand with a glittering star at the end.

She looked up at him, eyes wide in disbelief, and she pounced.

Hugging him tightly, she clung to his body and enjoyed the feeling of herself pressed against him.

She only came up to his chest, and she rested her head against it, holding him close and fighting back tears.

Tears of joy.

Tears of shock.

Tears of awe.

"How did you? I don't understand. Where did you?! What? How?!?" she rattled off rapidly, before he pressed his finger to her lips, silencing her.

She kissed his finger gently as he spoke.

"One of the first conversations we had. You mentioned you had never attended your prom in high school. Neither had I. It seems like yesterday, but you said only the perfect dress would get you to dance at that moment in your life in front of so many other people. Awkward as you were. Such a clumsy beauty. So I asked you what the perfect dress was."

She cut him off.

"This one."

He nodded his head, and pulled his finger away, taking her hands in his own, yet never losing sight of her eyes.

"I knew I would get this for you someday. I knew I would. I knew that day. I knew the very moment I met you.. I knew that I would fall. Hard."

He almost fought to say these words, as if it was difficult for him to verbalize such emotion.

"I'm just glad you chose to fall with me."

They embraced for a very long time.

Such emotion and passion exchanged between the two bodies.

Gripping and surreal, yet everything she ever wanted and so much more.

"I want to try it on!"

She could barely contain herself. A sugar rush could not make her so hyper as this had, as if he had intravenously injected her with liquid sugar, she scooped up the box and looked for some direction to go.

"Come this way, I'll show you where you can change." he said simply, and walked back into the den before making a right into a small hallway and heading left into a bedroom, presumably his own.

"Here you go, sweet heart."

With that, he gave her a kiss on her nose which sent sparks of electricity coursing up and down her back, shivering slightly from the wind as it blew past the curtains.

He had the windows open in here! Go figure. She was a bit chilly, still, but she was too excited.

She turned to the bed where the box rested, and pulled the dress out. Behind her, she heard the door shut, and she turned to look at herself in the mirror holding it up to her body when she realized she was not alone.

He stood in the corner, by the closed door, and he was still watching her.

"Surprise." he said quietly.

"Jeez, you scared me half to death!"

She said it as lightly as possible at that very moment, which is to say she was barely capable of speech let alone maintaining her perfect posture before him.

Why does she feel the need to have such perfect posture, anyway? One might say it was her desire to portray a positive image of herself for him, but she knew that was far from the root of the matter. Honestly, she always felt a need to stand as she was long ago instructed to do.

She loved to dance, and as any practitioner of the art form is aware, posture and one's movements were an integral reflection of the person.

An expert swordsman teaches his pupil to make his blade a part of himself, and treat it as not a piece of fabricated steel, but as an extension of himself.

The same she found was true with her dancing and it really had followed in life. She was always a perfectionist. Seeking to ascertain a control over every little aspect of her life from the most pertinent to insignificant things.

Such silliness most would say, but that is how she was.

Always so cognizant of the world around her she was, while maintaining a pristine image for all those that would walk into and out of her life each and every day.

That very afternoon she stood in line almost an hour at the bank awaiting a teller to discuss a charge on her account. As her ever-so-short lunch break dwindled, she stood resolute in complete harmony with all that surrounded her.

From the rhythmic tapping of a customer's pen against the countertop a few yards away as he conferred with a bank representative to the mother behind her jingling her keys together to amuse her young infant as they waited, she held the same stance. While she inhaled the musky scent of cologne emanating from an older gentleman two rows down, she painted rainbows in her mind along the sidewalks.

There she had stood in the middle of chaos, a brilliant beacon of fortitude, and she waited ever so patiently in perfect form for her turn to discuss her financial matter.

Just as a car outside raced by beneath overcast skies, it plowed through a rather large puddle that accumulated from the morning's showers.

The water erupted from the banks of the sidewalks and splashed up onto the sidewalk, and it washed away the imaginary rainbows she had created just moments before.

And as the colors melted into the earth below, she felt cold.

So cold.

As again she shivered when a gust of wind blew into the room through the open windows, swirling around her, before finally dying down once more.

She was back in his bedroom.

It was so dark, and she was so unsure of herself, but still she stood there in perfect form.

Yet he remained quiet and simply stood there. Watching.

"Well, what do you think you are doing?" she inquired with a humorous edge.

"Enjoying the view," he replied with a softness to his voice that defied reason.

There were so many different tones to him that it was true even of his voice. He could express so many different things just by the tenor of his speech. Command, anger, disappointment, enthusiasm, optimism, agony, and despair. She had in one form or another heard fragments of each of these within his voice in their time together.

She had felt each and every one in their time getting to know one another, but the one she yearned for each and every night was this one.

The softness to it was so soothing, and he used it often to disarm her. So often she would adore it when he fell asleep talking to her due to the fact he used this voice when he was sleepy.

Perhaps that was what it was, she considered.

The fact that we are most innocent and vulnerable when we are tired. No defenses and no walls, so often we speak the truth when we are tired, our brains no longer willing or capable to obscure our feelings.

Was it the innocence in his voice that was such a strong lure?

Did it even really matter?

"I shall not change in front of you! What kind of lady do you take me for?" she insisted, breaching the silence that had devoured the room.

Though she kept hidden from him the knowledge that his mere presence alone in this room coupled with the way he had spoken to her just now combined with the possibility of him watching her undress was absolutely appealing in every aspect and she was hoping he would not call her bluff -- because that is what it in fact was.

A bluff.

"I am here because you want me to be." he said quietly, continuing to return her gaze with his incredible eyes. Staring at her. Consuming every facet of her defenses, he opened every door she closed. He saw right through her.

He saw her.

Bluff called.

Gulp.

So what was she going to do now? She had no preparation for this scenario, and she always has a plan. Always. Organization was her backbone and proper accounting and scheming for each and every possible outcome in any given situation was what she relied upon to make it through each day.

Right now she was floundering about, and she found it both exhausting and riveting. The excitement that burned within her had yet to die down let alone extinguish.

Some call it a spark between two individuals.

Well, he was a raging inferno.

"What do you want from me?"

What do you want from me? How retarded of a question was that? She wanted to smack her palm to her forehead and bury her head beneath his sheets.

There she stood, with the most beautiful dress she had ever laid eyes upon within her grasp in the room of a stranger she had long ago fallen for though she dared not admit to anyone, least of all herself, for the very first time in his room and she awaited his response.

Laughter.

That was what she expected.

He would laugh and ridicule her for such a stupid comment, and she would stand there with her always perfect posture in her ever-so-awkward way, still the young misfit girl who never quite was accepted by the pretty people in school awaiting her punishment for her social deformity.

She knew it would happen. She expected it. Hell, she even deserved it. That's what girls like she get. They get to dream of fairy tale endings and nice homes with a wonderful husband and loving c***dren, but they never got to actually experience any of it.

Here it would be.

It never came.

"A smile?"

So simple was the request that he really could not say much more than that.

She broke down as she let out an uproarious laugh, and she could instantly feel that familiar feeling of her eyes water as tears slipped out from beneath the lids and tumbled down her cheeks.

There she was, standing before him, crying on his dress as he watched her, soaking in the scenery that was her smile as it spread wide across her face.

Was she a mess or what?

Long ago she had told him, heck, she had warned him more or less.

"I have issues." she had said back then.

Well, that was an understatement she decided. She had problems if this caused her to let loose. For so long she has been searching for her other half, the person that fits the pieces within her and that can build her up in the ways that she so desperately needs as she offers the splendors of her own self to him.

Won't someone love me not for my wonders but for my issues?

Please?

She had begged for that for so long, and here this man was, standing before her in complete adoration of a meltdown on the very first night, and that caused the tears to spill forth ever the more freely.

Carefully he walked over to her, placing one foot softly in front of the other, each step a measured process and deliberate. And as he stood before her, he took her hands in his own, both of them holding up the dress, and he allowed her to rest her head on his shoulder.

He leaned his head forward, and whispered softly into her ear, "I would like to see the most beautiful lady I have ever had the good fortune to lay my eyes upon to wear the dress she so long ago desired."

His words were so soft and gentle, as an incoming wave of the ocean brushing up lightly against your feet, that they washed over her completely.

Leaning back, he again looked down at her as she collected herself, and he reached down.

His hands found her waist, and he planted them firmly upon her. She longed to feel him touch her skin, though she closed her eyes and could almost feel him through the fabric of her jeans.

With her eyes closed, she felt his fingertips draw forward around her, as she felt him loosen her belt buckle.

Oh my God, what was he doing?

She was frozen in both disbelief and absolute delight, and she would later say she would have chosen to throw caution to the wind, but should the truth be told, she really could not have protested if she had wanted to.

She didn't.

Another stiff breeze flooded the room and she heard him briefly exclaim as he rifled the belt from around her with one fluid motion making a loud hissing sound as it was removed.

He dropped it to the floor.

Once more she felt his hands upon her waist, but this time he began to pull her shirt from her body. Undoing each button eagerly, he had her chest half-exposed as one shirt panel flapped carelessly in the continued breeze.

While normally she would be chilled to the bone, the winter temperature and weather only added to the exotic elements already taking place.

She held the dress up with one hand, as he pulled the blouse free from one arm, and then switched hands as he removed it completely.

He tossed it forward and it landed seamlessly on the bed.

At this point there was only so much left. She kicked off her sandals, and she felt the initial sting of the cold wooden floor as her bare feet touched down.

Standing there in her bra and jeans she kept her eyes shut tight the entire time.

She gripped the dress tightly, her knuckles turning white, as his hands descended upon her once more.

He fumbled about briefly, attempting to unbutton the jeans, and finally he was able to secure the errant button and pry it loose. This elicited a brief chuckle from both of them. The ever distinct sound of a zipper being undone filled the quiet room as he undid it swiftly.

Pulling on her pockets, he was able to pull the jeans down the length of her body and she stepped out of them.

There she stood in her underwear, and she wondered just what it was that he was doing. Moments passed on and time seemed to creep forward ever so slowly.

Still, he had not touched her.

What would his reaction be to seeing her?

Was she capable of dealing with it?

Concerned over the lack of response to her near naked state, she knew of only one method to achieve a reply.

She finally summoned the courage from within herself.

Opening her eyes, she realized he was standing before her with his own eyes closed.

He did not once sneak a peak at her, as he just stood there, almost trembling himself, mere inches from her undressed self.

So that was why he had trouble locating her button and undoing it!

How incredibly romantic was that, she considered.

Had that been his plan all along?

Would he have blocked his view of her in the corner had she undressed herself?

She was uncertain.

Quietly she shrugged into the dress, and situated it properly on herself, and she retrieved the wand and stood before him, not even bothering to examine herself in his mirror before presenting herself to him.

"You can open your eyes now." she whispered softly into his ear, standing forward on her tiptoes to better audibly reach him.

His eyes crept open, and he looked upon her and the look on his face was worth a thousand smiles.

"Perfect. You look perfect."

She blushed hard, her cheeks flushed red with the passion he had stirred within her.

"It's all because of you. I love this!"

She twirled about in front of his mirror. It was difficult to make out much detail in the shadowy confines of the bedroom, but it didn't matter.

Nothing really did at this moment.

Only him.

As she turned around, she saw in him something that he had attempted so hard to conceal all evening.

Emotion.

She could tell just how affected he was at this point by the events of the evening. At which point he leaned in close to kiss her, and she instinctively closed her eyes and leaned back slightly as his arms encircled her waist.

Yet no kiss ever came.

She could feel his hot breath trace along her lips to her neck and up to her ear as he whispered in his sleepy sexy voice.

"I hope you like taking that off as much as you did putting it on."

She was completely lost in the moment, and to that end her body was barely capable of remaining in the stance she currently held. Rocking back and forth ever so slightly, his words rang loud and true in her mind.

"I hope you like taking that off as much as you did putting it on."

So very true.

Indeed, she had enjoyed the entire act of disrobing before him as he undid her clothes and she worked herself inside the dress. What more could she want than to be his angel with wings, albeit fabricated ones?

That was just it, she really could not want for anything more. She did not. Had the night ended right there and they never were to speak again he would have laid upon her an indelible mark that shall never be erased nor forgotten.

How could she forget one of the most truly romantic nights of her life, let alone the fact she shared it with a man she had come to grow so very close to over the course of the many months they had interacted online, over the telephone, and in their letters.

Obviously she was more to him than some girl he had never met evidenced by everything he had planned and done for tonight, and he meant more to her now than her words could ever hope to profess.

Finding the right description for how she feels about him would be akin to her attempting to explain why the sun rises in the morning and sets in the evening.

Sure, she has some faint notion of the reasons why, but she could not hope to put together a concise explanation worthy of the majesty of such an event.

Carefully, she trailed her fingers down the front of the dress, her skin touching the soft and silky fabric that she wore so splendidly. As she stood there, she simply wanted to soak up the entirety of her night to that point and live in it forever.

If only she were so capable of curling up each and every moment into a magnificent little ball of hope and store away the magic of said precious instances in a bottle to be used later.

And should it be she decides to revisit this night on a lonely rainy day or in a fit of despair, the chance to bask in the warmth and security that he has provided to her will be a remedy unlike any other.

A cure all for whatever ails you.

Another cool breeze slithered inside the room, but neither person reacted. He was still simply watching her, and she still lost in her own little world of thoughts absorbing it all. Her hands were flat and her fingers pointed out straight, her palms resting against the cool fabric of the dress, and in this very moment with her eyes still closed she came to a most startling conclusion.

He was her sunrise.

Her sunset.

She was finally beginning to understand.

Understand him.

The room was so peaceful and the silence had lingered on to such a point that when he finally spoke it seemed almost out of place, though his voice soon washed away such thoughts.

"How much do you trust me, dear?"

Trust? Him? What? Where was he going with this. In her mind, she was considering just how he planned to get her out of her dress and the delight that would accompany such an occasion, but this sort of question caught her by surprise. Saying that she was rather aroused and craving every inch of the man would be an understatement.

What did this have to do with her getting undressed? She shrugged it off and considered it for a moment. Hey, the faster she answered his question perhaps the sooner he may press his lips against her own.

How badly she wanted that.

"A great deal, as you can probably tell," referencing her discarded clothing. As her cheeks turned red, she opened her eyes and glanced his way before she braved a question of her own.

"Why do you ask?"

He simply ignored the query and continued.

"You want me."

She blinked at him.

"Badly."

Well, okay, apparently she's fairly transparent and he can see right through her. While this might have made her a bit uncomfortable in most cases, she was growing somewhat accustomed to his demeanor and she almost enjoyed his style. She went along with it to an extent.

"Maybe.. Maybe not."

He chuckled.

"No, you do. I can see it on your face. It's in your eyes, sweet heart. There is a fire burning within you, and you hunger to fuel it. You can barely stand at the mere thought of my lips mingling with your own, let alone where my hands may wander.. Oh, you want me. That is a given."

She could hardly even look at him at this point, her hands wavering slightly as they hovered over her thighs. Looking down at her feet, she felt a complete lack of control, which was a rarity for her.

Often times she held such moments with disdain.

Not tonight.

"Okay."

That was all that would come to her, and thankfully she was able to verbalize it loudly enough for him to hear it. In fact a mere whisper would do, and she had given him not much more than that.

"So say it."

His eyes were piercing right through her, they twinkled in the candlelight flickering throughout the room.

Wait. When did he light candles?

Surveying the room, she noticed there were candles now lit throughout the bedroom. She had not really heard him move around that much, and only now was she really noticing this.

Well, that certainly says a lot. She really must have been lost in her thoughts.

"Say what, dear?" she inquired with little more than a whimper.

With that, he walked over to her, and stood right before her, staring her in the eyes.

"Tell me that you want me. Do as I say."

Without hesitation nor any reasoning as to why, she said, "I want you. I want you so very badly."

Just as quickly as the words tumbled forth did she feel a tingling sensation sweep over the length of her body and she shuddered visibly, shaking noticeably for a few seconds.

He was staring right at her and during the entire exchange she returned his gaze.

How incredibly enticing this was she could not fully describe, but she could tell it had an affect on her. And what an affect it did have.

He observed, "You liked saying it, a lot."

So cool was he in his statements and so sure of himself, she simply marveled at him and debated lunging forward and pressing herself against him.

She could feel how heated she was now as her blood coursed throughout her body, leaving her slightly lightheaded and her mouth terribly dry.

Oh, how she wanted to wet her appetite for him starting with his lips.

He reached up with his right hand and brushed the hair from her eyes ever so casually, though with enough awareness to just miss touching her face.

She tilted her head over in an attempt to force contact between the two, though he was far too quick for her. He snapped away his hand, as if he expected her to try, and he glared at her in a scolding manner.

"No touching unless I initiate it. That's rule number one."

Rule number one? What? She couldn't touch him? This was slightly confusing, and she wasn't sure how to respond at first, and after a few moments thought she remained uncertain.

"Rules? Huh?" was the only thought she could process and get across, so she went with that.

With that he leaned in tight and whispered into her ear softly, his hot breath a stark contrast to the chilled air in which they conversed.

"I know you trust me. Trust is important. You are mine. Tonight and perhaps, if you're fortunate, every night henceforth. I make the rules, and you follow them. You're going to obey me. Trust me. You have wanted this for so long. You will submit to me."

With that he leaned in hard and kissed her gently on the lips, and she returned the kiss full on. He enclosed her bottom lip with a kiss, and he pulled away, dragging her lip with his own.

She moved her hands upwards to run them through his hair, but before she could he gripped her wrists and forced her arms back against her body. The look of surprise on her face was evident, though she could hardly disengage from the passionate kiss she had longed for on so many sleepless nights.

He broke away long enough to whisper into her ear.

"Your hands remain by your side until I tell you to move them."

With that he flashed her a mischievous grin and began kissing her lips down to her neck as she stood there frozen.

Her palms rested on her thighs, and his lips snaked their way across her chest down to her midsection. He kissed the cloth of the torso of her dress as he squatted down on his knees before he reached up behind her and slid his hands up the length of her calves and the back of her thighs to her rear and squeezed both cheeks of her ass hard.

He could smell her scent and he delighted in it.

She was completely enthralled and her fingers clawed at the dress.

Hardly could she stand not being able to move around, to touch him, to touch herself. She was giving herself to him in a manner in which she had to no other, and the loss of control and complete submissive act was an absolute thrill and a curse.

She wanted so badly to run her fingers through his hair or encircle her arms around his waist or nibble on his neck.

Instead she simply stood there allowing herself to be taken and pleasured.

How completely erotic and divine as he flipped up the front of her dress and departed from view.

Then she felt it.

His hot breath on her waist, as he began kissing her through the lace of her panties. He was licking at her sex, and the ecstasy was too much for her as she let out a long, delicious moan.

With that, he reappeared just as quickly as he had gone, examining her with his ever present wicked smile.

"No noises unless I say so."

She couldn't imagine that!

How could she possibly keep quiet?

He interrupted.

"You love this. Every single moment."

She nodded her head agreeing, not knowing if she was allowed to speak.

"Now, the question is just how much do you wish to feed the a****l within?"

Before she could even contemplate what that meant he was back in action.

In his hands appeared two rather long and silky, pink scarves, one retrieved from each pocket in his pants, and he wrapped each end around both of his hands.

He smiled again.

"Surprise."

He stood there watching her as he absently wrapped and unwrapped his hands around the scarves. What he planned to do with those, she wasn't entirely certain, though admittedly she was not quite so foreign to a few possibilities.

The rhythmic playfulness with which he toyed with the bindings left her incapable of speech and completely fixed on his hands.

Such powerful hands he displayed, his long and thick fingers had gripped her so tightly just mere moments ago, and she could feel the heat transfer from the tips of his digits to her backside.

She had liked it.

And he knew it.

The aspect of his grip that she decided she enjoyed the most was just how soft his hands were upon her skin. Though he knew how to apply pressure just enough to exhibit the rigid feel other men with far more weathered hands had, they were still gentle to the touch and inviting. Completely so.

His ability to stimulate such a wide variety of sensations within her was perhaps his most attractive quality.

Well, that and his steely aura of confidence.

Finally, he stopped with the scarves, and he looked on at her.

His deep brown eyes loomed large as he eyed her, almost as if he were tunneling through her to the very core of her being and perusing her for all she was worth.

Suddenly, his stance shifted and he grimaced slightly. It was almost imperceptible, but to her with her dancing background she was privy to such a small deviation in posture. It seemed to her as if he was favoring his leg, but before she could devote to it much more thought he was simply smiled at her.

He now sported an almost wicked grin replete with his signature mischievous wink and playful arrogant stare.

"What are you thinking?"

She heard herself verbalize the question just as she realized she was thinking of asking him.

Old habits die hard, and her curiosity and desire to be in control of every little situation had gotten the best of her. Now, she was forced to await his reply, if one was even forthcoming.

His smile remained, but he walked over to the corner window in the room and sat down in a large wooden chair with royal blue cushions.

Without a word, he raised his right hand in the air, crooked a finger, and motioned her over to stand before him.

And stand before him she would.

She carefully placed one foot before the next, as her bare feet once more touched down quietly on the chilled wood floor. The feeling of warmth he had imparted upon her still swirled within her, and the contrast between the conditions inside of her body compared to those of her surroundings were palpable.

So cold, yet so very hot.

When she reached his chair, she moved in as close as she possibly could without touching him, knowing he would have something to say about her doing so without his expressed desire.

She was learning quickly.

"I am thinking of you, of course. Was there any doubt?" he inquired, the question asked with a joyful undertone as he knew there was not.

She answered him in short order.

"None."

At which point they simultaneously smiled at one other, perhaps the first shared act between the two that was bereft of any mystery, intrigue, or pomp and circumstance.

They simply were themselves at that very moment.

They smiled.

Together.

Such a moment was not lost on him, and he seized the opportunity quickly to turn her back over to himself.

It was a game of sinister sweetness that he was playing with her. Keep her unsure and unable to find any sort of balance. Allow her not to have a moment's rest so as she might see something coming. Do not under any circumstance allow her to become comfortable.

He did this only out of affection for her, mind you. All of this designed to heighten her pleasure.

And she would find out soon enough just to what heights she could soar.

"Undress for me."

His voice was commanding, but in that sleepy sweet tone with which he used so often to motivate her. He was not asking, this she knew, instead he was rendering her an order.

However, he did so in such a way that it was more of an invitation of expectation, one she could hardly refuse given just how much she wanted both of their clothes gone.

Her hands trembled as she removed them from their resting point beneath her waistline, and they slowly crept the distance up her body and to her neckline.

Gently she brushed the top of her left hand across her neck before both hands disappeared behind her to the zipper up her back.



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