The Applicant ll

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Shelby Crawford’s computer terminal glared in the darkened room. She sat alone reading the latest correspondence from her mysterious dominant.

Subject: meeting

Date: Sat, 07 August, 13:22:12

From: Oliver@sparrowhawklodge.com>

To: ravenouslady@uniqueconnect.com

9:00 o’clock, Wednesday, Santa Rosa Cantina. I’m a tall, broad-shouldered man with a short dark ponytail. Please send a picture of yourself along with your personal history. Sparrowhawk.

Personal history? What should she tell him? She wished she had the liberty to question him, but he was so very abrupt as though he expected her to know exactly what he wanted. Dropping everything else she was planning to do, she dived into her personal history, hurriedly writing everything she thought was pertinent. She knew things like this needed to be handled quickly. Otherwise they’d stew inside her gut and spawn too much fear. About to send her message back, however, she stopped short remembering that he wanted a picture.

Pictures spelled commitment. This was moving rapidly; her obsession steering a rudderless craft through swift moving waters. But which picture should she choose? Did he want a nude? Her face? Torso? Ass? She imagined naughty cheesecake poses and thought of the only nudes she owned, souvenirs of a now defunct relationship. Posed coyly, cutely and sensuously on a bed of feathers—Chris’s idea. No. This was not to be a “feathery” relationship, but one of substance.

She meditated on the possibilities for a while. Was her imagination running away from her? Were her dreams and fantasies about to deceive her? Was this the most foolish thing she’d ever tried? Taking s****l chances in her past, she’d run into some unfortunate scraps she wouldn’t want to repeat. She needed more information, something concrete to believe in, to know she wasn’t running a terribly risk. Even so, her body, not her rational mind, seemed to be making the decisions here. She’d be at the cantina on Wednesday, 9:00 PM sharp, looking for the tall, broad-shouldered Sparrowhawk. He offered her what she’d never had, and the yearning for him felt almost brutal. Her loins clenched as though there was something tugging at her from the future, insistent and unmerciful calling her to act without questioning the wisdom of this daring choice.

Pulling up her file of pictures, her professional photograph showed up first. It was just a portrait of her face so he would recognize her when they met. Staring into the screen she was pleased enough with what she saw, seeing the pageboy blonde that brushed the edges of her cheek line and her fair and flawless Nordic skin. Her blue clear eyes were widely spaced and her small mouth blushed with pink. She guessed that he could see the truth about her in this photograph.

She was submissively demure—and yet, courageous taking this astounding step. Every nerve ending in her body was passionately alive. She was seized, obsessed and controlled by thoughts of her secret fantasies coming to life.

Attaching the picture to her email, she pushed “SEND” before she had time to change her mind.