Second Date - Testing Limits

It has been just about a week since our first date and Steven was texting me more regularly now. I work at a data entry job and as a fast typer, I'm able to text and still keep my numbers up. He was the second in charge at the advertising agency, but somehow consistently found time to check in on me. I found myself sending him weird Tumblr posts at night which made him laugh and he reciprocated with news articles to discuss. He asked things like what I was listening to that day or what bobbles I had on my desk. We were going out tonight, but when I had asked him what we were doing, he only sent the following:

STEVEN: I'll pick you up at 7. Dress warm.

Dancing around my room, I settle on a fall outfit staple of mine: doc martens, skinny jeans, and cable knit sweater. I pull the front of my hair back with bobby pins, pulling it half up. As I reach for my mascara, the finishing touch, my phone dings.

STEVEN: On my way, 10 minutes

I feel my entire body flush at the words. He's going to be here soon to pick me up and while we've been texting, the last words I heard him say were: "I want to kiss you, but anticipation is such a thrill." After the last eight days of texting, I am more than ready for that kiss. I find myself absentmindedly imagining the warmth from his hand on my cheek again. His thick thumb grazing against my bottom lip, electric. In the days since I had fantasized about parting my lips slightly, letting my tongue slid against his skin. I wondered how he would react.

A knock at the door. I glance down at my phone, sure enough it's been 10 minutes. I quick check in the mirror to make sure I didn't blink mascara all over my face and take a deep breath. If he doesn't kiss me right away, I don't know how I'm going to make it through tonight.

I open the door to see him standing there in a dark grey henley, thick black sweater and dark jeans. He greets me with a big grin and I instinctively reach my arms out to hug him. He opens his and once again I'm pressed against his solid body. I breathe him in deep; he smells like leather and spice. His hand strokes my hair for a split second before I pull back, realizing this is totally a weird thing to do on a second date.

"Hi!" I say excitedly, but still nervous. I turn quickly so he can't see me blush and lock the door behind me. When I turn back around, he's taken a step back and is watching me. I see him look from my boots to my hair before locking eyes with me.

"Fuck, you're beautiful." - his tone of voice is almost disbelief or... is it awe? No one's ever looked at me like that before. It takes all my will power not to open the door back up and drag him into my bedroom.

"Thank you," I say blushing harder. He smiles and I realize I'm looking up at him when we stand this close. He's got to be at least six foot to my five foot four inches. I stand there, lips parted, waiting for what seems like eternity.

"Shall we?" He motions toward his car and I smile and let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. I walk in front of him, but he still beats me to open up the car door. The drive goes by quickly, conversation flowing easily once again as we tell tales of our long work weeks and laugh at jokes. The familiarity between us seems natural. Even though it's only our second date, if you take into consideration our chat time before, I've known Steven for almost three weeks now. I listen intently as he explains one of his latest projects, not noticing the way his muscles flex as he holds the steering wheel.

The conversation finds a natural lull and as I listen to the music, I notice he seems almost... nervous. His hands grip the steering wheel - tighten, then loose, tighten, then loose - in an absent minded way. I fight my natural urge to ask, allowing the silence some space.

"Jessica..." he starts tentative.

"Yes, Steven?," every time he says my name I respond in kind. My voice almost goes sing-songy, little brat, but I can't help it. No one's ever addressed me so directly, I don't know how to act.

"Could I ask you to turn on your read receipts? If just for my texts?" he asked the windshield. His voice was calm and assured, but quiet. For a split second, I was halted. I love not having my read receipts on, it gives me control over the conversation. I can read the message and craft my response without the sender knowing *exactly* how long it took me to respond. My social anxiety reeled. He laughs and shakes his head at himself. "I just feel so silly texting you multiple times if you haven't even read them."

This pulls me out of my thoughts and I look back over to him. He was expressing his own anxiety to me and I know the feeling of feeling silly all too well.

"Of course," I answer without any more hesitation and I pull out my phone. As I touch through the steps, we pull into the parking lot of a mini golf place I've never heard of. My eyes light up in excitement, I love mini golf. I see him out of the corner of my eye watching my reaction, smiling. I swear I've never blushed this much in my life. "But you should just keep texting me as much as you want though," I tease, sticking my tongue out at him, slipping my phone back into my purse.

Getting our clubs and balls, I notice once again how comfortable people seem talking to Steven. The girl at the register barely even clocks my existence, but he is nothing but attentive to me. He hands me the pink ball, remembering I guess that it's my favorite color right now. On the course, the flirtation continues. We cheer each other on and he kicks my ball more than once, helping to keep my score close to his.

The last hole takes you through a tunnel. An hour had passed already, full of loud laughter and electric touches. We putt our balls into the dark abyss. I lean forward a little to see if my eyes will adjust.

"I think we just have to go in," he laughs. I laugh too at the sillyness and we follow the golf balls into the tunnel. It's at least two people wide and once you get inside, not that scary at all. A wood carved sleeping bear is placed in the middle of the lane, something to mess up your shot, and the inside looks like a cave. I run my hand along the fake carved rock. The tunnel itself only about ten feet long, but from inside you can't see any of the mini golf course.

I suddenly realize how close we are and in a secluded spot. His voice in my head "anticipation." I feel his hand brush against mine as we walk. I feel my face flush again at the thoughts running through my head. Such dirty thoughts for a sweet girl playing mini golf, I laugh to myself.

His hand wraps around my wrist, bringing me to a halt. I look up at him and he turns toward me. I take a small step back instinctively as the space between us closes. He let's go of my wrist and walks closer until I'm backed against the painted tunnel wall. I swallow hard as he leans in close enough for me to feel his breath.

"Kiss me." he voice soft but commanding.

He doesn't lean closer. He doesn't move a muscle. He just waits, lips parted, maybe an inch away. He's waiting for me to consent. He's waiting for me to obey.

I close my eyes and it only takes a second to close the space between us. Our lips press together and my whole body is on fire. He tastes like coffee and peppermint. We kiss hungrily, our tongues exploring each other's mouths. I grab at him, pulling him closer to me. His hand is on my cheek and I grab his wrist, jutting my chin up as we kiss, exposing my neck. I move his hand down my cheek to my neck. I gently bite his bottom lip.

He doesn't take his hand away, but he doesn't apply any pressure.

"Use yo"ur words." He commands. That same low calm tone. He wants me to say it out loud? I blush and he leans in to kiss me again, tongue tracing my lips.

"Choke me," I practically moan into his mouth. He pulls back a little and watches my face. Then he obeys my request, his hand squeezing gently around my throat. I smile up at him as he tightens his grip a little. He runs his tongues along his teeth and I see that fire spark behind his eyes. I think I hear a low growl and he leans in again. Our kissing becomes feverish as my heart races. My breath a little harder to get with his hand and his lips. After a few more moments, he takes his hand away. He kisses down my neck, all the space his hand covered. He takes my hand and pulls me from the wall.

I'm out of breath and feel disheveled. I can tell my panties are soaked. Gently pulling me ahead of him, he swats my ass as I pass. I gasp and spin back to look at him. But I can't even feign being upset, it's all so exciting. I smile big at him, then laugh. He meets my smile with his own.

"Oh, you're gonna be trouble." He bites his lip as I dramatically bend at the waist to putt my ball. I think to myself - I would get us kicked out of this mini golf course if I thought he'd allow it.

Somehow, good sexy juju maybe, my ball goes into the hole! I'm so shocked I let out a tiny "whoop" of celebration and shake my butt. He laughs and celebrates with me.