Message-ID: <14619eli$9808222134@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: sndr007@aol.com (SNDR007) Subject: ANNA, Part 1. Back by popular demand. A story by The Sender. Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-Id: <1998082104085500.AAA15747@ladder01.news.aol.com> Part 1, wherein Robert seeks help for his problem and help is offered. Things were going too well. In the past nine months, Robert's business had doubled, he had moved into a new house, and his social calendar was booked. He was the picture of success and the envy of his peers, but he couldn't escape a nagging feeling that something was missing. Don't get me wrong. Robert did not subscribe to the theory that wealth brings unhappiness, and he had no guilt about being successful. He worked his ass off for everything that came his way, and he truly believed that he deserved it. It's just that he could feel a malaise settling over him, and he couldn't put his finger on the problem. It was time for lunch with Roger. Roger wasn't exactly a mentor, but he was a few years older than Robert, and he has been a great help on many occasions. They had known each other since college, and they had shared rooms, whiskey, and women over the years. Roger always had a fresh outlook on problems that Robert couldn't seem to solve. This time, he let Robert whine about his dissatisfaction for about twenty minutes, then he wrote a name and phone number on one of his business cards. "Call her," he said. "She's just what you need." "I don't think so," Robert replied, a little defensively. "I don't need a hooker. I'm getting all the sex I can stand." "Anna is not a hooker. She's got a Master's in psychology, and she has what you need. Trust me." Roger gave that "big brother" smile Robert had come to know as his personal seal of approval, so he pocketed the card, and they finished lunch. Two days later, Robert made the call. "This is Anna. How can I help you?" Robert heard confidence and strength in her voice, and he introduced himself. He told her that Roger had suggested the call, and started to describe his situation, but she cut him off. "Now is not the time. Let's meet for dinner. I will make the arrangements." The restaurant she suggested was famous for its intimate atmosphere and its privacy, in that each table is a conversation nook, and the staff is renowned for its discretion. In short, the perfect place to take your lover, and very difficult to get reservations. Anna already had a reservation for Saturday night, three days away, and Robert was impressed. She told him to bring $500 in an envelope to cover the cost of his consultation, and he agreed. Robert felt some apprehension, certainly, but Roger's smile came back to him and he decided to go ahead with one "consultation." With the time and place of he meeting set, Anna bid him adieu. "Don't be late," she warned, good-naturedly. Robert uses sarcasm to deal with anxiety, frustration, and anger, and for the next few days, he was a real bear to be around. His people were ducking him in the office and avoiding his gaze in staff meetings. There was no objective reason for his behavior, and during brief moments of introspection, he could see that he had a real problem. It certainly wasn't a business problem, as his company was landing new accounts daily. It was a personal problem, the same problem that had dragged him down for the last month or so, and he wished he could get a handle on it. Oddly enough, he didn't give Anna any thought until Saturday morning. As usual, Robert drove to the office before breakfast to review productivity reports and rough out his calendar for the next week. One of the secrets his success is to work more hours than the people around him, and he had learned over the years that the peace and quiet of a Saturday morning helped him to focus. When he checked his messages, he found that Anna had called the night before. The message was short and direct. "Call me by 9 am to confirm our meeting." At first, he was put off by her tone. Robert was used to deferential women, and he heard no deference in her voice. There was an implied "or else" in her tone that irritated and intrigued him at the same time. Did he really want to give her $500 to find out why she thought so much of herself and why Roger had touted her??? Of course he did. He made the call and got her answering machine. Surprised, he stumbled. "Uh..this is Robert, and, uh...I'm calling to confirm...I'll be there tonight." Anna picked up. "Oh, Robert, I'm so glad. I'm really looking forward to meeting you." He was heartened by the genuine enthusiasm in her voice, and he responded in kind. They talked for only a few minutes, but Robert felt a definite connection. This would be worth the money after all. At three minutes to six, Robert arrived at the restaurant, and, as instructed, told the maitre d' that he was meeting Anna for dinner. "Right this way, please," he replied with a knowing smile,and he led Robert through the crowded restaurant to an alcove in a back corner. It looked like a small hut in the jungle, with rough-hewn timbered walls and plants everywhere. The lighting was low, mostly candles, and it was very private. Robert couldn't hear anyone else talking, in spite of the fact that the place was packed. The maitre d' pulled back a chair that faced the alcove entry. "Anna will be here in a few minutes," he said softly. "Would you care for a drink?" "Dalwhinnie, neat," Robert replied, testing him. "Certainly, sir. One of my favorites." The maitre d' smiled again and departed. Shortly, a barmaid arrived with Robert's Scotch, and he sipped it for five or ten minutes. After about fifteen minutes had gone by, he started feeling a little edgy. Robert is punctual to a fault, and he expects his associates to be likewise. He was ready to pay for his drink and leave when Anna arrived. She was not what he expected. When Roger described Anna to him, he had studiously avoided any mention of her physical attributes, and with Roger, this is usually the kiss of death. He went on and on about her intellectual gifts, her insight, and her brilliance, but he failed to mention that, if she chose, Anna could probably make some serious money as a photographer's model. She stood in the doorway for a second or two, then entered. Smiling broadly, she extended her hand. "You must be Robert. I'm Anna." Robert stood and shook her hand. "This is a real pleasure," he said, smiling to himself. ( A real pleasure...this woman is gorgeous.) He started hoping that Roger had been scamming him. (Please be a hooker, please...) She stood about 5'-6'' in low heels, with dark brown hair cut above the shoulder and curled under, and big blue eyes. A black, open weave, sleeveless chemise clung to her slender body, accenting her small but firm breasts. Her arms and legs were tanned and toned, with well defined musculature, and her face was perfect. No flaws. They sat down. "Let's talk a little business, then let's enjoy ourselves," Anna started. (Please be a hooker...) "Do you have the envelope?" Robert smiled and slid it across the table to her. She put it in her bag without opening it. "Thank you, Robert." Anna looked into his eyes for about ten seconds, as if she was trying to read his mind. Then she smiled again and spoke. "I know that you have a problem, or Roger wouldn't have sent you to me, but I don't want to talk about your problem right now. What I want to do is to spend the evening getting to know you. Don't think of this time as an interview or as therapy. Just enjoy yourself, get to know me a little, and be open with me. I need to know who you are if I'm going to help you." Robert was a little disappointed (so much for the hooker theory), but he had certainly had worse dates, and he decided to enjoy this one. Anna semed so open and genuine that it was easy for Robert to reciprocate. He started to relax, and they started to talk. To Robert's amazement, they never stopped talking. They went through drinks, appetizers, dinner, and dessert, and the conversation never lagged. They talked about work, childhood, guns, politics, sports, and motorcycles. They talked about work, religion, horses, hang-gliding, and relationships. They talked about work, philosophy, scuba diving, and sex. Robert had never met a woman with so many varied interests or so many strong, well-reasoned opinions. By the time they had ordered their espressos, Anna had drawn him out completely. He was open and defenseless. They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping their coffee and staring at each other. "I think I can help you," Anna said with a hopeful look on her face. "I think you already have," Robert replied. "No, seriously," she went on, "I sense a lack of balance in your life. You have power and success, people do your bidding, and you enforce order and discipline within your circle, but you have no one to report to yourself, no one to serve." "I serve myself, I report to myself." Robert argued. " That's the problem," Anna countered. "Your power relationships are all going one way. Right now, you are making all the choices, and the burden is weighing you down. I think that you would benefit from a power relationship in which all the choices are made for you. I think you would find total submission therapeutic from time to time." There was a long pause as Anna gazed into his eyes with a slight smile in the corners of her mouth. Robert was a dominant man by nature, and he couldn't imagine "submitting" to anyone, but he knew instinctively that she was right about his life being out of balance. Maybe she had a point, but the whole concept seemed totally unworkable. "Even if that were true," he argued, "there's no one in my life that I would trust and respect enough to allow that kind of control, and I could never engage a stranger." Anna's eyes were locked on his, and he felt a new level of intensity in her countenance. "How about me?" she asked. "Do you trust me?" Robert never saw it coming, and he was stunned. "Do you mean...uh...uh.." he stammered. "Yes, that's exactly what I mean. Would you be willing to hand yourself over to me for an evening, to take instruction from me and bend to my will?" Anna was no longer smiling. For the first time that night, he was getting butterflies in his stomach. "Answer me, Robert." Her tone was firm and confident. This was no longer a date. It was becoming a contract. What the hell, he figured, one time can't hurt. (Little did he know.) "Yes, Anna. I'm willing to try," he said weakly. "Good," she said. "Tonight is the night." With that statement, Anna took control of the evening. She told Robert to sit quietly while she called for the check and signed for it, ceremoniously. When she told him to walk two steps behind her as they left the restaurant, Robert was surprised, but he complied. He couldn't help but notice her wink and smile at the maitre d' as they walked out the door. Anna told Robert to join her in her car, and they sat in the parking lot for another fifteen or twenty minutes while she tested his resolve and filled him in on some of the ground rules. She told Robert that she would not damage him or push him beyond his limits, but that he would certainly find some her requirements to be embarrassing and uncomfortable. She said that once they started there would be no backing out, and she emphasized that obedience would be rewarded and that disobedience would be punished. It was starting to dawn on him that he may be getting in over his head, but over the course of the last few hours, he had developed a real fondness for Anna, and he did trust her. Still, he was fighting back butterflies when she asked him if he was sure that he wanted to go ahead. Robert's throat tightened up and all he could do was nod. Anna instructed Robert to follow her to her house in his own car, and to wait outside after they arrived. During the drive and the wait, Robert was to re-think his commitment, and if he was absolutely certain that he was willing to submit totally to her will, he was to knock on her door exactly ten minutes after she turned on the porch light. "Understand this: once you walk through my door, I will own you," she warned him sternly. "If you can't accept my terms, you are free to drive off any time. If you accept my terms, expect to honor them." With that, she dismissed him. Robert went to his car and started the engine. -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----