Comfort Object

I stared at the menu, even though I already knew what I wanted. Nell would arrive for work any minute now. I was sitting in her section, and I'd purposely come at a slow time. Of course, she'd be far from happy to find me here. Oh well. I'd deal with her displeasure when it came.

I picked at the sugar packets on the table and rearranged the salt and pepper shakers. Guillermo brought me a drink and thanked me for the fiftieth time for my patronage. I asked if he wouldn't mind sending Nell my way when she arrived.

"Oh yes," he answered with a wink. "I will happily do this for you."

Well, at least someone would be happy about it. I felt sorry for Nell, I really did, but she wasn't taking into consideration the positives of what I proposed. Hot sex. A great income for her. World travel, elegant dinners. The many trappings of fame and success. Who wouldn't be happy with that life? You aren't, came a voice in my head.

Okay, maybe I wasn't completely happy, but that's why I needed someone like Nell. Someone fresh and pretty. Someone to sit beside me while I flew around the world on interminable flights. A woman to talk intelligently with when I was in the mood to talk. A soft, available receptacle for my cock when I wasn't.

Ah, here was the receptacle now. She crossed behind the bar. I watched her put her apron on over her sensible black work slacks, pulling the long strings around from the back to the front. I thought of corsets. I thought of cinching her wrists in those long apron strings.

She greeted Guillermo with a smile. The smile faded as he pointed over to me. They had a short exchange, Nell protesting, Guillermo urging her my way. I knew Guillermo would take care of it. And sure enough, a moment later, there she was. She pursed her full pink lips as she flipped open her order pad. Lovely pique of temper. Well, she was a redhead after all.

"The usual?" she muttered to a spot over my shoulder. Her clear green eyes stared off into space. I'd never win her over if she wouldn't look at me.

"Nell."

She didn't want to look, but she did. That told me something. It told me that she listened, however doubtful she was. It showed me that some part of her felt compelled to listen, even though her pretty face was screwed into a scowl.

"Why are you here?" Her peevish tone prodded the dom in me. I wanted to pull her over my lap. Don't spank her. Talk to her.

"You know why I'm here, Nell. What you probably don't know is that I won't stop coming here until I get my way."

"Well, I hope you like Italian food, then," she said, rolling her eyes. "What do you want to eat, Mr. Gray? Because I'm not going to listen to anything you have to say. I'm just going to bring you your food."

"Chicken parmigiana. Raspberry-walnut vinaigrette."

She turned on her heel and retreated to the kitchen. A moment later she returned with my salad and placed it before me on the table with a bang. I figured she'd probably spit in it.

"Do you mind?" I asked, tapping my half-filled glass. She sucked her teeth and swiped my glass off the table. I watched her stalk to the bar to refill it. Guillermo looked over at her and threw an exaggerated wink my way.

"Nell!" Guillermo said in a jovial voice that carried across the room. "Why not go keep Mr. Gray company? The restaurant's empty."

Nell cringed and made a frantic hand gesture to quiet him, but Guillermo did not possess the ability to speak quietly. "Go, go! I'll call you when the order is up." She shot a look at me and grimaced.
"Go on. He is a good customer. You make him feel at home for me. Look at him sitting there, so lonely--"

Again she tried to quiet him, leaning close to speak in his ear.
"So what? We are family here. And you know, I think he likes you," Guillermo added in a deafening stage whisper. "Go!"

Nell dragged herself across the bistro to my table. I stood when she arrived. "Yes, make me feel at home, Nell." I pulled out the other chair, gestured for her to sit. I didn't touch her, but she was so close for a moment, I could smell the fresh, flowery scent of her hair.

I returned to my chair, leaned back, and looked over at her.

"I sense that you have not yet calmed down from our conversation last night."

"You sense that? How intuitive."

"It's too bad. I really hoped we might talk reasonably. Well." I sighed, stirring my salad. "Maybe later tonight."

"I'm working tonight."

"Guillermo already told me when you get off."

She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted so darkly that I chuckled under my breath.

"This isn't funny," she said. "What are you doing here? You enjoy this? Chasing me?"

"No, I don't enjoy the chase. Not at all. That's why I need you to just say yes." I tried to read her face. I needed to find a way to break down her walls, if I was going to get her. "Believe me, I wish you no ill will. I'm disappointed with myself for going about this the wrong way. But I can't go back now. I can only say what I feel."

"Mr. Gray, I mean this in the most literal way." She spoke slowly, enunciating every word. "I will never be willing to talk. I will never talk to you about this. That is all."

Her eyes were hard; her mouth was set. If some small part of her was willing to consider my offer, that part was buried away.

"Okay," I said.

She waited for me to say something else, but I knew anything I said to her would fall on deaf ears. A moment later, some other customers arrived, and she bolted with a sigh of relief. I ate slowly, watching her, looking for those subtle signals that would tell me how to proceed. To my frustration, I just didn't know her well enough. Not yet anyway.

But I had a plan B. It wasn't a nice plan, and it wasn't a fair plan, but it was my last chance to make her consider what I'd asked. After I left the bistro, I made some phone calls to my assistant, and later, to her landlord.

I thought maybe, just maybe, this next step was going a little far. I felt guilty, sure, and somewhat evil. But I'd always been a firm believer in the cult of "the end justifies the means."