Chapter One

It's just a Wednesday, nothing interesting happens at the Pub on Wednesdays except Trivia Night.

She is there anyway, obviously by the way she is out on the porch on her own someone or another dragged her out trying to make her be social. And here she is sitting on the front porch of the bar, concentrating, looking like she is editing a story on her phone. Everyone else is concentrating on questions like "Which Friend's characters had relationships that were still going at the end of the show?" and "What song was the top of the Billboard's top 100 list in 2009?" and she is reading a story her friend sent her because she is the only person who can properly edit it and make sure that the imagery is correct.

That is when he walks out. He isn't anything special, nice eyes, very tall, but he hasn't grown into the man he will be some day. He still holds that awkwardness that boys have until they really find out what they want. But he is cocky, and he knows she can tell by the way she doesn't look at him. She can tell by the way he lights his cigarette, knowing she is watching him out of the corner of her eye. She can tell by the way he glances at her scrolling through her phone, looking at the glasses perched on her nose.

"Not many smokers out tonight." he says, obviously aiming for nonchalance. He shifts slightly against the wall trying not to invade her space but wanting to sit down so he has someone to talk to. He isn't the type of person who is comfortable just being. He wants to have someone to talk to, to feel like he is a part of something.

"I don't smoke." She says still concentrating on the story not really even looking at him. He tries not to show it, but this shakes him. Girls usually fawn over him, after only a few moments they are eating out of his palm.

He slowly walks over and looks over her shoulder. If she isn't going to bite, then he is going to try to engage her. It is almost like a mission now. "Are you reading?" he asks. He knows his place, if she tells him to go away, then he will throw his cigarette, unfinished, and know he has failed. But if she talks back, he will keep going. Leaning over her shoulder he tries to see what she is doing as she impatiently puts her phone in her lap and looks up at him.

"A story I am editing for a friend of mine. She writes things then I go through them and make sure that she has all the words in the right order, well, basically that is what I do." She tries to sound disinterested, but he can tell that she is on the verge of glad that someone has asked what she is doing. Even though she tries to look impatient, she wants to tell someone about it.

"What kind of story?" He asks, he could tell by reading over her shoulder it is nothing that would interest him, some lovie dovie thing that women like to read. But he is still interested. He wants her to acknowledge him. He wants her to want him to know. There is something about the way she sat all alone that made him want to be with her.

She just stares at him. Her eyes show so much emotion, and suddenly he is captivated. He can tell she is trying to figure out what he could want out of this conversation. Trying to figure out the easiest way to get him to go away, but at the same time she looks like she wants him to stay. It is in this moment that he decides there is no way she can get him to go away, he decided that he would have her, and do just about anything for it.

"It is a fluff story. Just something of the sort that she likes to write." She looked amused by the confusion on his face. He has no idea what she is talking about and it looks like she finds this more funny than anything else.

"Fluff?" He asks, his green eyes narrowing in concentration, trying to figure out what she is talking about.

She looks at him as if she can see everything go through his mind. As if she gazes into his eyes long enough she can read the thoughts, Does she mean fluffy? Like animals? Or a nice sweater? It is suddenly clear to him that she is in control of this conversation and he wants nothing more than to change it.

"Fluff." She says impatiently, taking her glasses off as she sighs, "It is where you write, basically, a story about two people meeting and having sex. Little to no romance, and just the good stuff." His eyes narrow to slits, trying to figure out if she is just fucking with him or if she is serious. "Do you want me to read you some?" She questions, raising her eyebrows. He knows he shouldn't take the bait but the way she looks at him he doesn't want to let her win. Doesn't want to let her think he is uncomfortable.

Putting her glasses back on, she starts to read, slowly, in a drawl that makes it sound all the more sensual. Making him uncomfortable to hear the words out loud.

"He slowly begins to tie her up, the tops of her arms first, tightly pulled behind her back. Then he moves to her elbows, tying them closely but not close enough to hurt her. Finally her wrist that he connects to her feet so she is in the dragonfly formation, sitting on her knees.

"Then, whispering soft sweet words in her ears, he slowly, pulls her legs apart and ties them into the back so she can't move. She knows what he is doing, even with the blindfold on, and she trusts him completely letting him put her where he wants her."

"Okay, she is willingly letting this guy just tie her up?" He asks, full of disbelief. He couldn't see himself ever trusting someone, that much. Trust them enough to have him tied and blindfolded, not knowing what they are going to do next.

"Is this your story?" She asks looking at him over the rim of her glasses. He shakes his head slightly no. Chastised, but at the same time angry. He didn't want her to have control of this, but to keep this going he swallowed his pride. "Okay then just listen unless you want to go inside. And to answer your question, she might be the one tied up but the sub is the one with the most control. They are the one who can say stop and it stops immediately."

Finally he calmly sits down in the chair across from her. He isn't sure if he wants to hear the rest but he is completely enthralled by the way she is telling the story. Slowly pausing every so often as if making a mental note of something that needed to be changed. Her drawling voice making love to each syllable.

She slowly sips her drink as she reads to him. He had never had anything so raunchy, so taboo, said out loud to him. He was enthralled by the words. He doesn't know what to think of them, and at the same time can only concentrate on what she's saying. The slight stutter in her voice that says she isn't used to saying these things aloud. The lowness of her voice when she whispers the words that the man in the story says. He starts to just watch her, more than listen to the story.

It isn't long before he can predict every word by the tone of her voice. He knows when it is the man's voice, and the tied up woman. He could tell everything. She shifts slightly before saying something intimate, and rolls her eyes at the sweet nothings that are cooed back and forth. No matter the impatience that she showed from reading out loud, he knows enough about women to know she likes the words rolling slowly out of her mouth.

When the climax of the words starts to form she begins to stumble more and more, getting slightly flustered at what she is saying and a small blush rises on her cheek bones. At the end, she begins to relax; as she describes the man in the story untying the girl. It's almost as if every knot the man massaged out of the girls' muscles is a knot being massaged out of her body. Until the story concludes with them lying face to face sleeping softly in each others arms.

"So, what do you think?" She said, putting her phone on the table between them. Almost like the phone itself is it's own being, something that can't be crossed and can't be reasoned with.

"I.." He starts slowly, unsure what to think. Was it that he liked the story that's making him uncomfortable? Is the story why he is now thinking about how to tie someone that way? Or is the way she read it, the way she rolled through it stopping and starting and lowering her voice? Why was he suddenly wanting to feel that power, the intimacy?

"I liked it." He finally decided, not meeting her eyes. He wanted to hear more. He wanted to feel her voice rolling over him again. He wanted to taste her voice and the way the lines rolled off of it. At the same time, thinking about the words that were actually said, he was not sure if he ever read anything else like that if it would have the same impact with out her voice.

"I did too," She says taking another sip of her drink. "There are some things that need adjusting but over all it is a good story. A good one shot."

He notices that she is scraping her long nails across her palms and her thumb. Collin figured it must be something she does when she's nervous. Taking in her hands, he notices the deep crescents in her palms, she must have done it on one hand the entire time while she read the story. A thought crashed over him, he wanted to stop her from doing that, he wanted to smooth out each line and make sure she never did it again. Pushing the thought away he looked up at her.

"Do you do that kind of stuff?" He asks, his drink is gone and he doesn't have anything to occupy his attention while waiting for her slow response, so he lights another cigarette. He studies her face out of the corner of his eye. Trying not to let it show that her response is the most important thing to him in that moment.

"Yeah," She says in a way that makes him sure that she means it more than she is letting on. She is still running her nails down her palm, definitely a nervous trigger. "Everyone has their kink." She finishes finally with a shrug, both hands scraping her palms.

"So, you like to be tied up?" He can't even look at her as he asks this. He knows if he does his face will give him away. He is thinking about her tied up now, nails digging into her palms behind her back, eyes covered by a thick scarf waiting and wanting. He is thinking about all the ways he could touch her, make her wait, and want. It is all running through his mind, him doing all these things that she just read to him.

She slowly finishes her drink. Each pull out of the cup slower than the last. Until finally she upended the drink and swallows the last two fingers of the glass all at once. He knows she is stalling. He knows that she is weighing any answer she can possibly give, and he waited patiently.

"No," she says finally, looking him directly in the eyes, "I like to do the tying."

There is a moment, with her looking in his eyes challenging him to respond. All he can think about then is his arms tightly behind his back, her slowly touching him, those nails biting into his skin. He thinks about how hard it would be to just sit there as she slowly touches him, teasing with those nails. Yanking him back by his hair and whispering into his mouth before laying into him with a force he has never seen. It makes him catch his breath that he didn't realize he was holding.

No matter how much he would rather it would be the other way, suddenly he wants it. He wants something more than just the normal girls who let him fuck them then leave. He wants someone who is willing to do something more with him. He wants the kind words that went with all the rough touches, even if he isn't the one giving them.

"Would you like to tie me up?" He barely whispers peering at her under his lashes, not wanting her to know how hard it is to form the words. For some reason he would have said anything to be with her a little longer. Even if it is something he doesn't fully want.

She narrows her gaze, a smirk starting at the corners of her mouth. She slowly sits back in her chair, leaning forward at the last-minute for her glass and realizing that it is empty. Her smirk gets wider after that, like she is sharing a private joke with herself.

He tries to read her expression, did she want it? Did she really like tying people up? It was hard, most people he could put in a little box and read them like a book. But there was something in her gaze that he couldn't read. He had no idea what she was thinking, and that shook him.

"Do you want me to?" She finally whispers back, staring at the glass, her hands firmly under the table. A full blush is on her cheeks, and works its way down her neck, as she asks, making him think, if she just read all of this to me, why is she really starting to blush now? All he could think about was how this probably wasn't what she originally wanted to respond with. He thinks about her long nails digging into her palms, and he wants it to stop.

He is still staring into her eyes as he extends his hand "I'm Collin." she looks from the hand and almost reaches his eyes with her gaze. For a moment he doesn't think she will respond. For a moment he thinks that she is going to get up and walk away while it is still something they can get away from. But she surprises him.

"I am Morgan." she takes his hand in hers and slowly shakes it still concentrating on the middle of his face. It is almost unnerving to him how she wouldn't look him in the eyes. It was like no matter how much she says she likes the tying up, she is uncomfortable with being in control.

"Morgan, if you want, you can tie me up and do as you please." He said in return, shaking her hand, he tried to catch her gaze, but she kept her eyes in the middle of his face. He won, and he knew it.