Submission in Seattle by Jack Quaiz Read Free Book Online

wanted to keep it that way for now. 
She knew that he was a legal professional and that he lived East of Seattle in
a nice neighborhood. He described himself as being about six feet tall, short
dark hair, average build, with a well-trimmed beard and mustache.  He would be
wearing roundish metal framed glasses and a black sport coat.  She also knew
his correct age of forty one years.
     
    He reminded her
that he had not yet agreed to accept her as his submissive and vice versa, so
there would be no play at the table.  Cole laughed when he reread that, since
he could imagine punishing her later for being a naughty girl and playing at
the dinner table.
     
    After a hectic
Saturday afternoon dealing with a distraught client whose patent had just
proven to be invalid, Cole went home to clean up and dress for dinner.  As
promised, he wore a black sport coat that would be appropriate for the
restaurant.  His car was still in the repair shop, so he had to drive the
minivan that he normally used to carry clients and their staff to important
meetings.  He proceeded downtown, traveling against the evening traffic in the
sleek black Voyager.  Not exactly your typical bachelor’s vehicle, but the
nearly opaque windows and large carpeted floor space had come in handy on
certain memorable occasions. He parked in a lot beneath the restaurant just off
Pike street and walked around to the front door at five minutes before six.
     
    Monica was already
there, watching the entryway from her seat in the bar, so that she could sneak
out quietly if the man who asked for the Anderson reservation turned out to be
something other than what she expected.  She felt a familiar tingle inside her
nether parts when she heard a handsome man, looking thirty fivish, ask for
“Anderson, party of two?”   He was pretty much as he had described himself,
except he had neglected to mention that his frequent workouts made him trimmer
and more muscular than the average forty one year old.  He seemed to walk and
move with unusual ease, as if possessing great internal energy.  The beard and
mustache were trimmed in a way that made him appear intelligent, but slightly
dangerous.
     
    After Cole was
seated at a table near the window, Monica approached the desk and asked to be
seated at the Anderson table.  Cole saw someone walking behind the hostess, but
did not immediately think that this was the woman he was waiting for.   He was
expecting someone a little on the heavy side, but that did not describe the
woman approaching him in a slinky black cocktail dress with a high neck and
long sleeves.
     
    This woman was
built like the playboy playmates that he fantasized about as a boy.  The thin
black dress was made of a knit material that clung to her body as if it had
been painted on.  The dress revealed the precise shape of her breasts, which
was perfect and yet not quite perfect, so it was hard to tell if she was
wearing a bra.  Surely she must be a plaything of one of those rich executives
that he knew so well.  Her lush figure caused Cole to start drifting into an analysis
of how society had come to demand that women must look emaciated in order to be
attractive.  It took him a moment to realize that the woman had stopped at his
table.  Then she smiled and spoke directly to him.
     
    “Hi, I’m Monica. 
May I sit down?”
     
    A mild feeling of
embarrassment washed over him and Cole felt like he was thinking in slow motion
as he looked up from her nicely rounded hips, past her narrow waist and perfect
breasts.  Then he noticed the brown eyes and slightly wide mouth.  He was momentarily
stunned.  Slowly, a smile of understanding crept across his face.
     
    “Of course, I’m
Howard.  Thanks for being so prompt. I like that.”
     
    He collected his
wits as Monica sat across from him at the small table that was set for two.  
He had to remind himself not to stare at her body in the black dress.  He made
up his mind to look either at her