“I think you need someone to take care of you,” he said.

I laughed, “Noooo, I’m pretty sure I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it a long time now. In fact, it’s usually me taking care of other people!”

I expected him to smile, but he looked at me quite seriously, his blue eyes skeptical. Just as I was beginning to feel uncomfortable under his gaze, he said, “Of course. You care about people and you show that you care by serving them.” He paused, but before I could protest the term “serving them,” he added, “Serving In one way or another.” And he smiled.

His smile was warm and touched his eyes as well as his lips. It was just a bit – it was a bad boy smile, I thought. Just a touch. Or – not bad boy exactly. No, it was the smile of someone who knew things.

It kindled something in me and I wanted to make him smile more.

By the time I had sorted that out in my mind, I had been quiet too long, and for a second, I couldn’t remember what I was going to say anyhow. He was watching me, perfectly comfortable with my silence. Finally, I said, “Well, I can’t imagine what kind of “taking care of” someone would offer me. I mean, I don’t need somebody protecting me, or telling me the right thing to do.”

Just a hint of a smile on his face now. I waited, curious, head tilted just a bit to one side. He paused long enough that I was getting uncomfortable. Then he laid his left hand on the table between us, palm up. “Let me see your hand, please,” he said.

Slowly, I brought my hand up, and would have laid it in his so our palms were touching, but he stopped me, turning it so my left hand laid palm up in his hand.

He had not touched me before. It was, after all, a first date. Dinner had been delicious and we had talked about our lives. Relaxed and comfortable, he had drawn me out and I’d shared more than I usually would on a first date.

But now, with my hand nestled in his, I felt my nipples getting hard. I squirmed in my chair and noticed some heat between my thighs. Damn, I told myself, I know it’s been a while but he is just – holding – your hand. Stop it.

“I don’t know you very well,” he said, his eyes on our hands. “But I think that when you – anyone – is carrying other people’s burdens a lot of the time, they also need time to stop and let it all go. Do you ever feel that way? That you’d like to be able to relax and let go, just for a while?”

“Sometimes,” I said softly. It felt strange to admit this, but it was so true. Sometimes I had even had fantasies about someone telling me what to do. I tried not to think about those fantasies, but they were really vivid in my mind right in that moment. Looking at his hands, I could imagine them touching me, guiding me… and a little shiver ran through me.

He smiled, just for a second, and I wondered if he had noticed. I would have pulled my hand away, but he looked at me and shook his head. “Don’t,” he said, adding “please.”

I had already obeyed though, before the ‘please,’ and he knew it.

“Good girl,” he said, and smiled again.