Grace Ch. 01

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The Collar.
2.6k words
4.15
30.2k
5

Part 1 of the 13 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 02/03/2015
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The road rumbles as Brad turns onto Picnic road, following the robotic instructions of his cell phone.

"Jesus, this gravel is no picnic to me," he jokes, elbowing me and urging a chuckle.

He's cute when he laughs and he knows it. I think I wasn't supposed to notice the way he messed his dark hair and turned his eyes up to the sunlight with a shining smile, but I did. Our third 'date' had been going well thus far. I don't know. Do drive through tacos and making fun of banal pop music on the way to his friends' Christmas party count as 'well'? Does that even count as a date?

"Help me look, Grace...What's the number?"

"Oh," I break my gaze from the window and halt my inner monologue to read the note I'd scribbled on my palm, "um it's...39? No...49."

"Oh, right up here then. Thanks...and sorry. I just haven't been to their new house yet. "

I nod, understanding. How did a guy in his early 20's have friends who were second time home owners anyway?

"Hey, Brad, how old are these people?"

"Well," he gives a nervous chuckle, "They're older. Like they've got kids and stuff...but it's fine. They're young at heart, you know?"

He dances bit and sings, "Besides they throw the best parties and they've got expensive booze."

I laugh at Brad's unmasked party-boy demeanor. Suddenly, my mind races to sex. I recall that Brad had termed himself 'kind of a sexaholic' in his profile description and how I'd hoped clandestinely that he could live up to that title. So far, there'd been nothing. Zip. Nada. Ziltch. Not even a sly move up my thigh. Maybe alcohol would loosen him up a bit.

"You do love a party where you can throw out your inhibitions," I flirt.

He misses my advances, I'm never good at flirting anyway. Or maybe it's just that he's too focused on his friends...or their alcohol. We enter their driveway. The house is an impressive 3 story assembly of grey brick, barely sprouting grass from the foundation that would soon become its front yard.

"Oh they do too, Grace. God, like, you know what they do...Crap, well, I probably shouldn't even tell you."

As much as I know I ought to respect the privacy of his friends, he's got me curious so I press, "Oh come on, I won't tell."

He pauses.

"You told me about how you and your dumb high school friends spray painted that tortoise at the zoo but you won't tell me this?"

"This isn't about me though."

"Pinky promise I won't tell."

He sighs, clearly pulled to let it out, "Fine, If you pinky promise. Well, one time Kathy got really drunk and told me that every night Richard puts her in a collar and she sleeps like that!"

"What!?" I exclaim, and and sit looking more speechless and stunned than I'd like too in front of Brad. I try to shake it, and appear more easy going.

"Look, don't say anything. She was drunk. It's probably not even true."

"Like a dog collar?" I asking, too causual

"I don't know..." he responds, confused.

"I'm a little scared to meet these people," I confess with a sigh.

"No, no. That's why I didn't want to tell you. They're the best. Just forget I said anything and come on."

He takes my hand into his and stares deeply into my eyes. With locked intensity he whispers, "Think of the booze, Grace."

I smile and follow him toward the house.

But I can't forget. The silver doorknob resembles the metal latches of a woman's collar that may or may not exist within this house. A jacket hung by the door stings the reminder of leather into my brain. I urge myself to breathe deeply and purposefully as I trail behind Brad through the entrance and into the grand living room, lined with refreshments.

And then, I'm drawn to Kathy and Richard, standing before us with confidence. They appear strikingly similar...both tall, in their late thirties or early forties, with the bodies of once athletic people who have begun to surrender to the curves of age. Even their hair matches, thick and dyed deep black. They would almost look like siblings if not for their distinct faces. They're joined at the hip and smiling, hers broad and toothy. His, demure and ending with dimples. They're definitely not the kind of couple I'd image to be wearing collars to bed. Soft jazz flowing behind them reinforces my doubts. It was probably just a drunken joke.

"...it's awesome but they've got to finish that damn road. Anyway, this is Grace," Brad finishes as I perk up and re-join the world. Just in time. I've got a tendency to escape into my own head and I'm not always so lucky with my timing.

"So great to meet you guys," I chant, as if it were a script and, in a way, it is. I continue the greeting by offering my hand, first to Kathy who meets my eyes and squeezes with a caring smile.

"I'm Kathy, Grace. It's a pleasure."

Then to Richard who catches my fingers as if I were a princess, lingering his hold for a moment longer than I expect but not speaking. His eyes stare down at my fingers and, for a brief moment, I wonder if he will kiss them.

"Indeed," he hums with sincerity. He meets my eyes and I instinctively turn away from his gaze. Kathy saves me just as my cheeks begin to feel hot.

"A friend of Bradley's is a friend of ours," she interjects, and Richard lowers my hands with a hint of a smile.

Brad leads me away without another word and we approach a table with rows of appetizers, alcohol, and mixers. I try to listen as he enthuses over liquor brand names, but I can't shake the selfish feeling that Richard and Kathy are talking about me. Out of the corner of my eye I see them close together and whispering intensely, steeling glances my way...or maybe it's just my imagination.

Brad hands me a drink and raises his to cheer. I clink his glass but don't drink. Even a sip could effect my sad excuse for an alcohol tolerance and I'm feeling too uneasy about lowering my guard around all of these strangers.

"Mind if I go find my buddy, Grace?" Brad laughs, pouring his second drink, "He owes me some serious Warcraft time...Is that cool with you?"

Oh god, some date...and some party boy.

"Sure, I don't mind." I lie, and he's gone.

I sigh and begin to collect a plate of food to quell my emotions. I've always been lucky that my emotional eating habits haven't had too big of an effect on me. I mean, there are the bits of pudge on my belly and thighs...and arms...and ass...but I've stayed relatively average sized, just a bit squishier. Real women have curves, right?

Something like that...I smile in gratitude as I pop another bacon wrapped asparagus into my mouth. Damn that's delicious.

"It's a new recipe, but I think the sauce really pulls it together."

I jump at the sudden response to my thoughts and turn to see Kathy sitting on the couch beside me. Did I say that out loud? I don't think so.

I breathe out slowly, intent on releasing my fear. Just mingle, Grace. Don't think about the past or the collar. Just meet a new friend. Just be cool and calm.

"They're so delicious, Kathy, thank you. And thank you for having me over." I praise with a bright smile.

"Of course, sweetie," she coos, and I'm suddenly aware of our age difference again. "Where'd your friend go?"

"To play a video game," I laugh, hiding my nervousness as I begin to feel more vulnerable and alone.

"Oh typical," she jokes, "boys will be boys, right?"

"Right."

Richard appears behind us, rubbing Kathy's shoulders and giggling at the truth to our words.

"But video games are just TOO ultra-advanced and mega cool!" He jokes in his best nerdy gamer voice.

We laugh together and I feel myself relax a bit. I stared, almost obsessed at the corners of his mouth and the dimples and dance there as the laughs. It's such a simple jovial thing but it makes me feel like I can trust him.

"Not cool enough to leave your date over," Kathy sympathizes.

I mindlessly consume another asparagus or three.

"It's fine," I lie, again.

"Honey, that feels heavenly but you ought to do it to Grace. She just got stood up by little Bradley."

"Stood up?" Richard Inquires.

"No," I reply hastily, "he's just busy."

Kathy turns to me, forcing her husband to release his grip.

"Either way," she informs, "Richard give the best massages."

"May I?" Richard offers politely.

Oh, what the hell.

"S...sure" I fumble. Why on earth did I just stutter!? I look away from Kathy in hot embarrassment but it's quelled instantly by strong rhythmic kneads into my upper back.

"Wow, that. That feels...so good." My back slumps and I sigh into Richard's strong hands. Kathy rests her own hand on my leg. There is a quiet purpose in their touch and the intensity of them pulses through me and heat floods my body, tinting my cheeks and weakening my legs.

"Told you so," she whispers with a wink.

Maybe Richard and Kathy aren't so bad. These people have done nothing wrong. I'm just getting myself worked up over something that's probably not true. They're clearly in love. There's no way he'd hurt her.

No, Grace. Damn it. Be present. That's what your therapist always says. Don't think about the past or your dumb ex-girlfriend and her dumb problems. Just be present at the party. Focus on the lovely detangling of your knotted shoulders and the lovely heat of them. Almost as if their energy is flooding within you

"Better?" Richard inquires as he finishes his work all too soon.

"So much better, thank you."

"My pleasure, little one."

Suddenly, it's as if a new wave rolls over my being. Little one. I don't know whether to be endeared or offended or just write it off an age-gap thing. But the washing feeling of the name is unexpectedly sweet and soothing. I don't want to fight, so I surrender to his words and smile politely back as if Richard hadn't said anything abnormal whatsoever.

He meets my smile, seeming almost satisfied with my responce...or maybe it's just my imagination. Endorphins or energy are mingling with my nerves now and I'm probably too happy to be ration. I fall into a daydream reality where Richard had been testing the waters somehow with his pet name...pushing my buttons to see how I might react. The strange this is that, as I play with this idea, I don't feel the slightest resentment or anger. I just embrace the idea of passing the invisible test.

Richard sits down beside Kathy and together they just stare at me kindly in silence for several seconds. Minutes? I'm not sure why, or what I should say. My mind, determined, the break through my relaxation, races to know what they're thinking. I break the one-sided tension,

"So, how do you know Brad?"

"Aah, Bradley is a friend of a friend. He's at many of the parties we throw and attend." Kathy replies quickly, seemingly hurried to answer my question and change the subject back to silence.

Another several seconds or minutes passes. I look around the room, at their outfits, simple and cleancut, and at Richards dimples again. I'm out of time filling questions and I'm not one for small talk anyway.

"We're honest people, Grace," Richard begins and I feel myself nodding in reception. "We don't care for lies or games or small talk. So, we want to tell you something earnestly and I hope you won't find it offensive."

I continue stupidly nodding, unsure of what to do or say. Mentally, I try to lower my defenses further as curiosity beckons me. After all, I consider myself an honest person, too.

"Okay."

"Kathy and I find you very interesting. We believe that you are different than most girls. Kathy has a bit of a gift, to feel people. She feels something special in you."

I smile. The pleasure of being called different and special begins to overpower the awkwardness of the blunt conversation. It feels almost refreshing.

"I've never been a fan of small talk myself," I confess, suddenly eager to show him how alike we are.

"Good to know." Richard comments earnestly, "We'd like to get to know more about you."

"And, if you'd like, for you to get to know us as well," Kathy adds.

"Okay," I blurt. God, these people are so suave and articulate and I can't even put together a full sentence.

"Is there anything you'd like to know about us now?" Kathy invites, as if she can read my mind. Richard said she had a gift. Maybe she really can read my mind. Maybe she knows that that collar has been there unmoved since before I walked into the door. "Anything at all," she urges.

In a rush, the words glide from my lips before I have time to control them. "Do you..." I whisper, then flush pink as I realize what I'd almost said.

"Say it, then," Kathy presses, her gaze locked into mine.

She knows. He said she's psychic or something. I know she knows. Before I realize it, whispers are rushing uncontrollably from my lips, a mile a minute.

"Brad just said this weird thing about something you said when you were drunk, but he was also drunk so it's probably not even true...and he said that you said that you slept in, like, you know, a collar...or something but that's just...I'm sorry..."

"You'd like to know if I sleep in a collar, Grace?" Kathy continues, matching my whispered volume but seemingly unfazed by my panicked blabbering.

"I...I guess that's what I meant, yeah. But that's so inappropriate and I'm really sorry. I'm not sure why I even asked."

"Well, since you've asked, I do. And absolutely do not be sorry. Never apologize for speaking honestly what is on your mind."

I nod, drinking in her advice as she continues.

"There is no inappropriate, Grace. There is only truth and lies. If you speak the truth, Richard and I will never be upset about that."

Kathy sounds so wise and knowing and I feel the urge to sit next to her all night and listen to her talk about life...but I suddenly remember her answer to my question.

"You do sleep in a collar?" I reiterate, this time without hurried embarrassment.

"I do. And I'm actually very glad you asked me this."

"Why?"

"I think you've confirmed what we've suspected about you," Richard adds, finishing Kathy's thought.

All I can do is stare. What did they suspect? What did I confirm? My mind rushes to make sense of what has happened and I fail to respond. The told me I could ask anything so why aren't I asking my questions outloud?

"Let's talk about this more, later" suggests Richard as he hands me a card from his wallet. "This is my e-mail. Send me your questions later. Actually, Tonight."

His instructions ring in my ears, not a question or suggestion...more like a command. I nod and repeat it back to him, "tonight."

"Now, we have other guests to attend to...but I'm very much looking forward to your e-mail."

A gentle pet on my shoulder marks their exit and I'm left alone on the couch, Richard's e-mail in my pocket, and an empty plate in my lap.

Brad enters as if on cue, complaining that he had lost some computer battle and asking if I'm ready to go. I follow him out, lost in my own obsessive thoughts of collars and pet names and honesty and e-mails.

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6 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousalmost 3 years ago

Pudgy!

AnonymousAnonymousover 6 years ago
Am I ever glad

that I just found you today. I don't think I could have stood the long wait. I very much enjoy what i have read so far but I have to go read more now.

AnonymousAnonymousover 6 years ago
Continuation?

Great opening! Will the story continue?

fanfarefanfareabout 9 years ago
MissRS, Please feel free...

...To surprise all of us! I like how you are styling this story. And I am enjoying trying to figure out the tantalizing clues you emplace.

You miss-chevious scamp, you.

parawaparawaabout 9 years ago
An interesting start...

Maybe you should confound Ham's expectation and make it an unexpected spectacle.

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