Chapter One

The night I met my Dom...

 

The night I met my Dom I was waiting tables on my Wednesday evening shift at Hooters in Tucson. Do you know the place? I work at the one off Speedway near the corner of S. Kolb Road. I know what you're thinking... Hooters. When I was looking for a job I filled out applications at other places, but Hooters had an opening and hired me on the spot, for obvious reasons. It's an OK place to work, I guess. I've been able to save up a little money and Richie, my manager, is really nice to me (and a pretty sexy guy). I've been working here a little over two years now. We're located just a short drive straight up Kolb through the desert from Davis-Monthan Air Force Base. A lot of military personnel come in especially on the weekends to get drunk and stare at the waitresses in our tight t-shirts and skimpy shorts. You should stop on by sometime, order a beer. I don't mind being looked at. I've been stared at by men and women all my life.

Before I begin my memoir, I want you to know that I didn't just aspire for a career as a waitress at Hooters. After high school I attended a community college for two years part-time, but I really didn't know what I wanted to do with my life so I never finished my college degree. Then I saw these commercials on late night TV on how to train to become a medical assistant, so I thought I'd give that a try. I applied to get money to go to nursing school at Pima Medical Institute, but I was so buried in credit card debt I couldn't get approved for a student loan. Around the same time my Dad lost his construction business and was no longer in a position to help me financially. After the recession hit and our home was foreclosed, Dad decided to leave Tucson. The last time I saw him he was driving in a caravan of broken down cars with his hippy friends, traveling toward California to start a nudist colony somewhere in the desert. I haven't seen or heard from him since he left town. If my memoir ever gets published and you happen to read this, I want you to know... I love you, Dad. I miss you. You were always a good Father to me...

I scraped together enough cash to pay in cash for my first semester at Pima and I liked studying there. I felt like I finally found my vocation. I even met this really cute guy there, but before I could get a chance to know him, I had to take a leave of absence when I didn't get the scholarship I was hoping for. I got the job as a waitress, figuring I could save up enough money from my tips to get out of credit card debt and reapply for a student loan. Two years later I was twenty four and thanks to my job at Hooters almost debt free. I had nearly saved up enough money to go back to school full time when Dane completely changed the course of my life.

I was immediately attracted to him the minute I saw him sitting alone with his piercing blue eyes. Believe it or not, I'm not one of these silly Hooters girls here who go gaga over men from the military base, but he did look sharp in his crisply pressed tan uniform. While most guys check out my body the minute I approach their table, Dane just sat stiffly upright and stared at the menu I handed to him. He gave me his order in a deep, commanding, somewhat gravelly voice. Despite the fact that he wasn't looking at me, I felt an odd connection, a kind of electricity between us. As he reached out to hand the menu back to me, his arm brushed the side of my waist, causing my skin to feel prickly and hot. I smiled and went to take an order from another table.

I kept an eye on him from across the bar as I ordered the food and drinks. He looked like a movie star to me. He reminded me of a young Paul Newman in those old films I used to watch with Dad, very attractive and trim, with something mysterious going on in those blue eyes. It had been a while since I had a boyfriend, so maybe I was feeling lonely or horny, or perhaps a little of both.

When I approached the table to drop off his beer, Dane spoke to me for the first time.

"What's your name?"

"It's Veronica. Veronica Wells. I told you when I dropped off the menus, remember?"

"Yes, that's right. I'm a little jet-lagged. Sorry, Ms. Wells."

"I'm just a waitress at Hooters. There's no need to be so formal. Call me Veronica."

Then, completely out of the blue, he said something very sweet and mysterious to me.

"I'm sure you're much more than a waitress, Veronica. We just haven't discovered what it is yet..."

We exchanged a look and I lingered at his table a little longer than I should. Dane has this way of looking at me, or should I say looking through me, with an intensity that rattles me inside. I don't know how much time passed as he held me in his hypnotic stare. Even at that first moment he had the ability to hold me captive, not with handcuffs or the silk rope (that would come later), but in his cold hard gaze. I was unable to move again until he offered me a slight smile and glanced away.

We were unusually busy for a Wednesday night. I dropped off his meal and periodically looked over at him while I worked my other tables. One thing that stood out right away was his refined table manners. I was used to Arizona guys attacking their burgers like cave men the second I set their food down, gobbling the meat in huge bites, their mouths gaping open as they chewed, elbows on the table, grease dribbling down their chins, their fingers and knuckles red and sticky from dipping their fries into big glops of ketchup. But Dane was different. He used his knife and fork to cut the hamburger bun into small bite size pieces and placed them in his mouth, one at a time. I had never seen anyone in my entire life eat a hamburger with a knife and fork. He even ate with his mouth closed, and set the silverware down across his plate as he chewed, like royalty. After about thirty minutes, I passed by his table and Dane made eye contact with me, patting the corner of his mouth with a white napkin. He had eaten about half of his food and only drank a few sips of his beer.

"How are you doing? Don't you like your meal?" I asked.

"I'm not particularly hungry... for food," he said, looking me directly in the eyes.

I blushed, not used to such deep eye contact from a customer.

"OK. Can I get you something else then?"

"What did you have in mind, Veronica?"

"How about dessert? The chocolate cake here is pretty-"

"When do you get off, Veronica?" he abruptly asked.

"Not for a couple of hours. Why?"

"Are you busy later?"

It was the third time that night one of the customers hit on me. I gave him the standard reply which I had perfected over the last two years.

"Well, umm... What did you say your name was?"

"I never introduced myself to you, Veronica. Forgive me. I'm Staff Sergeant Dane Smith."

"Well, Sergeant Smith-"

"Please, Veronica, call me Dane."

"OK, Dane. Despite the slutty outfit I have to wear, I don't usually make a habit of going out with customers."

He nodded respectfully and looked down at the table

"I understand..."

I had this strong desire to reach out and touch him, to brush my fingers through the hair on the back of his head. I guess it was too long since I had gotten laid.

"I don't mean to be rude, you know, or hurt your feelings-"

At that moment Richie came over to me, put his arm around my waist and told me a four top in my station was trying to flag me down.

"Thanks, Richie."

"Sure. No problem," Richie said.

The two men exchanged a look and then stared back at me. Richie, as usual, gazed at... I might as well say it just this once... my hooters.

"Excuse me please," I said to Dane.

As I walked away I glanced over my shoulder. The eyes of the two men were riveted on my back side, on the spot where the two halves of my cheeks touch. It didn't help matters that the orange shorts all the waitresses had to wear were at least one size too short. The short shorts were practically screaming, "Hey! Check out my cute ass everybody!" so I couldn't exactly blame the guys for gawking at my back side, could I?

After ordering another round of drinks for my tables, I looked across the restaurant at the still, silent figure of Dane. I felt kind of sorry for him; he looked so sad and alone. Impulsively, I decided to meet him after I got off. I know I shouldn't be going out with strange men I meet at work, but Dane appeared rather harmless. Why not meet him for a drink or cup of coffee after my shift, I thought. Some pleasant conversation, get to know him a little. Maybe it would lead to something, maybe it wouldn't. What could be the harm in that? It turned out to be the most life-changing decision I ever made.

When I had my section under control, I came back over to his table, leaned over and whispered in his ear, perhaps a little too seductively.

"I get off at 1. It takes me about 15 or 20 minutes to break down my station. If you're willing to wait for me, I guess we could go out for a coffee or something."

"I'll wait for you in the parking lot," he whispered back.

It was about 1:20 in the morning when I grabbed my coat and left Hooters. I saw Dane step out of a shiny black Range Rover and I walked over to his car, shivering. It was another cold night in the desert.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi, Veronica," he said.

"Thanks for waiting."

"Sure. Hop in. It's freezing."

I hesitated getting into a stranger's car.

"Oh. I'm not sure I'd feel comfortable..."

"Do you want to take your car?" he asked.

"Uhh, all right..."

We walked over to my car. I was a little embarrassed about my beat up Ford compared to his shiny new vehicle. It was nice of him not to take notice of how trashed my car appeared. It made me like him immediately. I turned the key in the lock.

"Veronica, do you mind if I drive? You've been on your feet all day. You must be tired. I know an all-night coffee shop just a few blocks away on Speedway. I'll take you there. If you allow me to drive, you'll never get into an accident, I promise. I'm a safe driver with a perfect driving record."

I often worried about getting into a crash, especially on Speedway late at night. The cars always drive so fast on that road.

"OK," I said.

He held out his hand and I dropped my keys obediently into his open palm. It was the beginning of the transfer of power between us.

"Let me turn up the heat," he said. "You look a little chilly, Veronica. It sure can get cold in the desert at night."

"I am a little cold in this skimpy outfit, thank you."

We pulled up to the diner, got a table. Dane ordered two coffees and we sat together in silence. It made me slightly uncomfortable the way he stared at me with such harsh intensity, without saying a word. My hands were resting on each side of the cup, my fingers nervously drumming the table. Suddenly he reached across the table and took my hands in his. It was the first time we touched each other. I was surprised by how firmly he held my hands. Even if I wanted to let go at that point, I couldn't. My hands were his, right from the beginning. I glanced into his eyes and looked away. Each time I broke eye contact he gave my fingers a hard, almost painful squeeze and I intuitively knew he wanted me to look back up into his eyes again. I didn't realize it at the time, but my training sessions had already begun.

Eventually, I got used to maintaining eye contact with Dane and I tried to relax, gazing into those tranquil blue pools. He seemed perfectly comfortable with the silence between us. When we finally broke the ice and started talking, there was an easy light banter that flowed between us, as if we had already known each other intimately for years. I was amazed at how quickly I felt comfortable in his presence, just like we were old friends. I thought it might be interesting to do a birth chart comparison to see how compatible we might be together. The more we talked the further up my hands his fingers crept, until he was holding me with tight pressure around my wrists. I felt my blood begin pulse under the grasp of his fingers. The harder he held my wrists, the more I liked the feeling of the firm grip on my skin.

"So, tell me about yourself, Dane," I said.

"I'll tell you anything. What would you like to know?"

"Well, you said you were jet lagged, I believe. Where did you fly in from, if you don't mind my asking?"

"No, not at all. I just stepped off a seventeen hour flight from Afghanistan."

"Wow. How long were you stationed there?"

"I've done multiple tours of service in Iraq and Afghanistan since I signed my military contract after graduating college eight years ago."

I quickly calculated his age in my mind. He was around 31 I guessed, about 7, maybe 8 years older than me. I usually didn't go out with guys that much older than me, but with Dane perhaps I could make an exception.

"I'm retiring from the Army this Friday. It's finally over..."

I couldn't begin to imagine the terrible things he saw over there. Again, I didn't know what to say.

"It's dangerous over there," I mentioned.

Dane nodded.

"It's dangerous here too," I said. "Did you hear what happened to Congresswoman Giffords right in front of that Safeway in Casas Adobes a few years ago?"

"Yes, I heard. It can be dangerous even in Tucson, especially for a single girl like you, Veronica. You need someone to keep an eye on you, to protect you."

By now his hands had reached up to my forearms, squeezing my skin tightly, leaving red fingerprints. I began to like the way he touched me, took possession of me. It made me want to flirt with him.

"And I bet you want to be that person, am I right, Dane?"

"No one will bother a hair on your head if you're with me, Veronica."

"Well, I think I can take care of myself, thank you."

Dane continued to stare intensely at me, squeezing my arms tighter and tighter.

"You're... hurting me, Dane..."

He relaxed his grip and let go of my arms.

"I'm sorry. I crossed your pain threshold, didn't I?"

Pain threshold. When he said it for the first time, the words sounded so foreign to me. It was my introduction to the world of BDSM.

"Pain threshold?"

He looked at me with a serious expression.

"Yes, one of many things we need to discuss, you and I..."