Chapter 39 – The date

While I was getting better at maneuvering in these ridiculous boots, I was still nowhere near stable and still relying on Mal’s steadying arm to keep upright. Once we stepped into the Walgreens pharmacy, he picked up a basket and gestured toward the beauty section, indicating I was in the lead now. Now without Mal rushing me, I was able to move more confidently although more slowly. And if I’m completely honest, moving more seductively though its hard not to shake my hips in heels like this.

Four months ago, I wouldn’t have cared about what products I used to get clean. Just whatever was on sale when I ran out. Three months ago, I knew only what the stylists and Grace taught me about soaps, lotions, shampoos, pre-rinses, conditioners, or moisturizers. If I had to replace my Apotheke Magnolia Bouquet body soap, I’d need to go back to Loops Cuts and Curls where they sold the first batch to me. But now that Mal has insisted that I spend much of my spare time reading style, beauty, fashion, and other ladies magazines, I’ve read plenty of articles on drugstore brand cosmetics that match up to the more luxury brands that I use day to day.

Knowing that I won’t be washing my hair saves me from half a dozen products, though I do add a shower cap as I’m not sure what kind of water pressure Mal’s bathroom has. Even without the hair cleaning products, I still fill the little basket much to Mal’s amusement. When we check out, I learn that even big national chains like this seem to cater to the neighborhood as they set up a delivery of our purchases to Mal’s apartment.

When we step back out on the street, Chicago has begun its normal springtime evening cooldown. With my jacket boxed up and delivered to Mal’s apartment and my arms completely bare, I can’t prevent myself from shivering a bit as we walk slowly down Michigan Ave. Once Mal notices my discomfort, he takes his arm from mine and moves it around my shoulders, giving me continued stability on my spikey heels and sharing his body warmth. The small action is just another warm kindness that weighs against the cold cruelty I’d assumed was Mal’s bread and butter.

Our walk is a little further than the one from the boutique but is still rather short before we end up at The Gage, a nice quiet romantic restaurant. At this point it’s not a surprise that they seem to know Mal as soon as he walks in and give him a great table with views out on the park across the street. I of course also note that anybody walking by will have a nice view of us.

When the hostess has us seated Mal sets our menus aside and takes one of my hands in his. As his fingers rub over the back of my hand, feeling disarmingly pleasant, he speaks in an unfamiliar, almost kind, tone “Paris, now that we’re going to be going out regularly, we need to get to know one another better. Or rather, I need to get to know you better. First thing, as it’s relevant right now, I need to know about any food allergies, food dislikes, food preferences, wine preferences, cocktail preferences, drinking comfort level, **** use outside of your hormones, and anything else that might color where I choose to take you for dinner, desert, or drinks.”

I’m taken aback by Mal’s seemingly genuine interest in my preferences. I could understand the allergies as it would be embarrassing to him if he ordered me something that I couldn’t eat. But my preferences? What could he possibly care about MY preferences?

I think about it a moment before opening up and just being honest. “I don’t have any food allergies. I also don’t have many food dislikes. I guess I don’t like eggplant since it has the consistency of snot, but other than that, I’ll eat just about anything that’s good. Umm, I’m a simple g…” I wince a bit as I have to cut off my ‘simple guy’ and change it on the fly “…I’m a simple girl and don’t really know much about wine. I think I like the sweeter ones, but I honestly haven’t had enough to really say. I don’t drink a lot of cocktails. When I go drinking it’s been beer and shots mostly. Some of the gu… girls and I have tried drinking whisky recently, but beyond preferring scotch to bourbon I really couldn’t say what I like. Uh, let’s see, I normally drink a lot, so I have a fairly high tolerance to ****, but I haven’t been drinking much at all since I started at K Edison. I smoke some weed occasionally, but I wouldn’t call myself a pot head and don’t do anything harsher than that. You know that I’m trying to quit smoking but that’s a hit or miss trial so far. And I guess I like fruity desserts? Strawberries or pineapple over chocolate or caramel? But it’s not like I dislike chocolate and caramel.”

Throughout my meandering answer Mal never let’s go of my hand and keeps rubbing gently at it. Just as I shrug, indicating I’m not sure what else I can add, the waitress returns to our table. Without taking his eyes form mine Mal orders for us, “We’ll start with some wine. A glass of Stella Rosa Strawberry Rose for the lady, Couhins, Chateau Blanc for myself. We’ll have an appetizer of your Calabrian Mussels. For dinner the lady will have Lamb Vindaloo, medium rare, with a side of Broccolini. I’ll have the Steak au Poivre, rare, with a side of Aligot Whipped Potato. No chives with the potato please. And if Bruno is working tonight, we’ll take one of his Maritozzos to share for dessert, otherwise we’ll have a serving of your Mango Mousse.”

Still, without taking his eyes from me, Mal gathers up our menus and hands them over to the waitress who simply smiles, nods, and heads out without even confirming our order. I’ve ordered for my dates before, but it’s been for something like pizza. Not wine, appetizer, dinner, side, and a dessert that requires a specific chef to be working. Mal though just continues as if this is what he does all the time, “I think you’ll like this. They’re very good here. Be honest with me afterward as I want to be able to order better for you in the future if I didn’t get it right this time. Now, onto entertainment.”

Mal’s grin twists in an almost playful manner as he continues to hold my hand with one of his but reaches up and slides a finger into the D ring of my blouse collar, “I take it that your interests travel into the bondage and discipline area? There’s an exclusive B&D club nearby that I have a membership with. We can go check it out after dinner if you’d like.”

My eyes widen as what he’s saying sinks in. With his finger remaining in the collar, I can’t pull back from him without making a scene so I instead shake my head back and forth in an aggressively negative manner. “Uhh, no. No. I’ve never… I mean, I don’t… that’s to say…” I close my eyes for a moment, knowing that I’m flustered enough to be blushing. When I open my eyes, I try to continue with a steadier voice, “No, I’m not into B&D or S&M or anything like that. The only reason I picked out this top is that it was the only thing that would go with this skirt, and the skirt was the only one that would work with my body shapers. Everything they had wanted to show off skin that I can’t show off.”

Mal’s grin melts away, leaving him looking more familiar. Looking annoyed and intense. “So, you picked an obvious fetish top? Why didn’t you just pick nothing? Tell them that you don’t like any of them. That boutique is expensive not because they have the best clothes, it’s expensive because they cater to their customers like no other. I’ve taken girls there for years and they’re always able to cater their selections to what the girl wants. And now they think that you like this fetish look and will be presenting variations of it to you every time I send you there.”

Mal lets go of my collar and hand, bringing his hands together to steeple his fingers in front of him. “Paris, you need to learn when to stand up for yourself. I won’t have you ruining my reputation everywhere I go because of your meekness. You know me. You know the language I use is concise and precise. If I tell you to do something, I mean it. If I leave you wiggle room, then use your best judgement and personal preferences.”

Mal glances around the restaurant and sighs deeply, “Look, done is done. From here on out, you DO like the fetish look even if you don’t participate in the lifestyle. We’ve been seen by at least three executives and lord knows how many junior executives. They don’t get to see me with a mistake, so they’ve just witnessed your new fashion sense when we’re out. I know you’re smarter than this, so use your head next time.”

Mal’s chastisement of my simple blouse selection, which someone seems to have doomed me to dress like a fetish model from now on, is interrupted by the wine delivery. As I take a sip I’m pleasantly surprised by the fruity sweetness of it. It reminds me that I’m seemingly facing two Mal’s. One that seems to genuinely see me as a piece of eye candy to show off both at the office and now out on weekly dates, and one that seems to want to get to know me and have a good time together.

Our dinner together doesn’t do much to help me define which Mal I’m dealing with as he returns to the happy go lucky man that I don’t recognize. We talk about entertainment options which are more complex than the movies I’d generally choose for dates. Plays, operas, musicals, clubs, sports events, and traveling shows are evidently all options. As they were almost all too expensive for me to have participated in before, I have no opinion on them and have to let Mal choose.

As our appetizer is cleared and dinner is served, Mal makes it clear that I can use his AmEx card to shop for whatever I need at his apartment and simply have it delivered. He evidently set me up as a guest will full access back when his wife gave me keys to the place so I can go there any time I’d like as both the doormen and the security team already know me.

After dessert is served, an amazingly sweet brioche bun filled with whipped cream and strawberry filling, Mal has an Uber take us to a nearby club where an up-and-coming singer songwriter is performing. I recognize her music from the radio and am surprised that he’s able to get us into the club as I’d heard every show she’s doing is sold out weeks in advance. And this is such a small venue. But Mal simply introduces himself to the door supervisor who waves us in, in front of the long line. We take seats at the bar where Mal introduces me to one of his favorite cocktails, an Old Fashioned.

Halfway through the set a guy walks up to Mal and talks excitedly to him. After a few minutes I’m introduced by Mal as ‘his girl Paris’ and he’s introduced as a record label executive. After chatting for several minutes, he moves on and Mal lets me know that I can expect that on most nights, people coming up and wanting a moment of his time. Most of them will be relatively important people, otherwise they wouldn’t earn any of his time while he’s out socially. When they’re present, I’m to be the perfectly perky girlfriend.

We end up staying for the full set, including two encore performances. Thankfully, being a weeknight, the club closes ‘early’ at two in the morning. Mal has a car waiting for us outside that immediately whisks us back to his apartment. When we step in, Mal pulls out his phone and says he has to make a couple calls, “Go ahead and find your things and get ready for bed. Marie, my housekeeper, should have been here and got everything unpacked. The clothes you wore today will have been sent to the cleaners, and they’ll be available by Friday.”

I recognize that Mal is likely calling his Japanese and Chinese counterparts as it turns out buying out the McGreggor corporation is going to be far more expensive than even the CEO thought. My first stop is to use the bathroom. After I’m finished, I look through the cabinets and shower stall but don’t see any of my products. Knowing that there’s more than one bathroom I move on to the next one but am again left without any of my lotions or soaps. Finally, hoping that I won’t find them there, I move into the master bedroom and the master bath. And of course, that’s where all of my items have been unpacked. Like Mal said, his master bath has a huge vanity with two separate halves, and one is now evidently ‘mine’.

With a sinking feeling, I check the large walk-in closet in the master bedroom and see that Mal’s clothes only take up half of it. On the other side is my new outfit for tomorrow already hung up and ready to wear. There’s a whole wall of a shoe rack that looks vastly underused with the one pair of heels on it. One of the drawers has been left open and I see the panties, bra, garter belt, and stockings that complete tomorrow’s outfit. Turning and going back into the bedroom I see another box from the boutique on the bed. Opening it I stand there for a long moment just holding the box top as I stare at what Mal bought.

I’d kind of hoped he got me something comfortable to sleep in like a long night shirt as I’d rather not sleep in just my panties. A part of me worried that he might have got me a nighty or something more feminine. All the time we were out having dinner and at the club though I never thought for a moment that he’d have got me something like this. Inside the box is what I can only think of as a nearly bridal set of lingerie.

It takes me a moment to recognize all of the various pieces included in this set, all in variations of off white and pale pink. The gossamer dressing gown is so transparent that it won’t cover a single thing. Even if it were completely opaque, it wasn’t enough material to fully close in front and would only extend down to my hips. It looks like it would be short enough to show off my panties from the rear. The panties themselves are much like the dressing gown in that they won’t cover a thing as they’re fully made of pink lace and cream-colored translucent silk panels. The matching bra will again hide absolutely nothing and makes me wonder if Mal remembers that I actually don’t have real breasts.

If it were just the panties, bra, and dressing gown, it would be bad enough. They all clearly say ‘presented for sex’ with no care for comfort or sleeping. But there’s more. A pair of the finest seamed silk stockings I’ve ever touched with intricate lace tops. The stockings are designed to work with the garters that are built into the corset. A pink corset that looks like it could nip my waist in two inches MORE than the faja already does. There was even a pair of heeled slippers that matched the theme of the lingerie.

If all of that didn’t scream ‘SEX’ then it seems Mal added something to specifically spell it out. In a little velvet bag is the pièce de resistance. Something I’d only ever seen in porn movies and had never actually seen in person or even photographed. A large chromed flared butt plug with a large pink jeweled base.

Still holding the plug, I turn around startled as Mal’s voice comes from behind me, “Ah, I see you found it. I thought you’d like the choices I made and I think you’ll look exquisite in it. Want to try it on?”