The Billionaire's Ultimatum: His Absolute Need (A BDSM Erotic Romance Novel) (Book One) (4 page)

At a smile and a
coaxing from Asher, I put my hand around his arm and let him take the lead.  We
walked through The Simple Path, past elegant dining tables with rustic, wooden
chairs, towards the back of the restaurant.  I didn't know what to expect upon
first stepping foot into the place, but I definitely didn't expect the string
quartet playing music off to the side.  There was a small, squared off area for
dancing, too, except it looked like dancing was currently not in fashion
because everyone steered as far away from the dance floor as possible.  The
tables farthest away from the musicians were filled to capacity, but the ones closest
looked empty and abandoned.  Odd, since I would have figured those would be the
best seats.

Asher brought me
to a section in the rear with private rooms.  Not even really a room, but a
little alcove big enough to seat a handful of people, with a cushion directly
on the floor and a table so low that to sit at it we'd need to cross our legs
or sit with our feet straight out.  I wondered which was the more proper way
and waited for Asher to sit so I could watch and learn.

Except, lady's
first.  Dammit!  The one time I didn't want a gentleman, and here I was, with
someone who would never act unchivalrous.  I stepped towards the cushion,
unsure and slow, staring at the floor.

"You take
your shoes off first," Asher offered with a grin.  "Shall I?" 
He mimicked kneeling to help me remove them.

"N-no!" 
My God, this was embarrassing.  I stepped out of my high heels and...

"Right
here," Asher said, tapping a mat off to the side.  I put my heels there. 
"The proper way to sit is called
seiza
, but most women can't do it
for..."

I interrupted
him before he could finish.  "I can do it.  What's
seiza
?"

He cleared his
throat and tossed me a quick smile before explaining.  "Kneeling, with
your feet under your rear.  It's a strictly feminine way of sitting, but if you
need a demonstration I can emasculate myself for a moment."

"I can do
it!" I said.  Far be it for me not to know these things.  Granted, I
didn't know them, and maybe I would make a fool out of myself, but after he
explained it I felt I had a decent grasp of what I needed to do.  I wasn't
about to let Asher mock me by letting him show me how to sit properly.  How
hard could it be?

Stepping into
the alcove onto one of the cushions, I lowered my knees onto it and sat on the
heels of my feet.

"Perfect,"
he said with a nod.

When he sat
opposite me on the other cushion, he simply sat cross-legged.

"Hey,"
I said.  "Is that customary?"

"For me,
yes," he replied.  "This is the casual Japanese way of sitting for a
man."

"So I can
sit like that?" I asked.

"If you
want.  I won't mind.  Typically the casual way for a woman is to put your feet
to the side and sit directly on the cushion, though."  When I scooted both
my feet sideways so they were to the right of my body, he nodded.  "Yes,
like that."

Well, no.  I was
of a mind to show him I could be quite the formal and sophisticated lady.  I
put my feet back under my butt and sat with my back completely straight in some
haughty show of refinement.  Asher rolled his eyes and laughed at me.

"What?"
I asked.

"Nothing,"
he said.  "Very good."

A waiter brought
us menus and asked after drinks.  I ordered water, having no idea what else to
order.  Asher did the same, but asked for a
tokkuri
(one of those
bulbous flasks, I guessed?) of sake, too, plus cups for each of us.

I had bad
experiences with sake, and I told him as much.

"Oh,
really?" he asked with a smirk.  "What sort of bad experiences?"

"A lady
doesn't drink and tell," I said.  Honestly, if I told him the truth about
a drunken stumble through the city, being kicked out of a cab with my friend
halfway to my house, and us wandering in our inebriation towards a park where
we collapsed on a bench, convinced it was the couch in my living room, I was
pretty sure he'd never speak to me again.  That wasn't the kind of story you told
someone you met yesterday, regardless of what happened during your first
meeting with them.

"I
suppose," he said, teasing, "I'll just have to see what you do after
we have our first cup."

"First and
last," I said.  "I won't be having more.  I have to—"  What did
I have to do?  Nothing.  I had no work for today, since I wouldn't be able to
find anything at the temp agency this late in the day.  In fact, I'd
intentionally told them I couldn't work today because of this lunch date,
meeting, or whatever it was.  But I couldn't very well tell Asher that...

"I need to
wash my hair," I said after a long pause.  "Alcohol closes up the
pores and makes it harder to clean."

"Pores?"
he asked.  "In your hair?"

"Well,
yeah?  Hair is just dead skin, basically, and skin has pores, so..."  Did
hair have pores?  It sounded good in my head, but I had no clue.

"Which is
why people eat greasy food after a night of drinking," Asher added,
matter-of-factly, with a hint of sarcasm.  "The oil will travel to the
hair and make it shinier, since washing it won't work as well."

"Y-yes..." 
I doubted he bought my explanation, but his comeback was impeccable.

To escape his
scrutiny, I stuffed my face into the menu, pretending to browse through the
choices.  When I actually looked at what I had in front of me, I frowned.

"The menu
is in Japanese," I said.

"Yes,"
he said, agreeing.

"How are we
supposed to order anything when we can't read it?"  Why was he so calm! 
He acted as if he had control over everything, like the situation would bend
itself to his will and come out just perfectly, except how?  How could he
know?  I didn't even know what I was supposed to order to eat, but from looking
at Asher I had a feeling that he knew exactly what he'd be eating today, and
every other day for a year.

The waiter
returned just then with a steaming ceramic pitcher of sake.  He reverently
placed it in the center of our table, along with two small, delicate ceramic
cups.  "Have you both decided what to order?" he asked.

Asher nodded. 
"We'll have an order of
nabe yaki udon
,
yasai itame
,
tonkatsu
,
chicken kara age
, and your lover's special sushi platter."

I glared at
Asher, annoyed.  "Excuse me, do I have a say in this?"

"Did you
want to order something, too?  I think I covered all our bases."

I slammed the
menu on the table and stared at it.  Asher apologized to the waiter and asked
if he could wait a moment.  Dammit!  He could read Japanese?  That should have
impressed me, I suppose, except it only pissed me off.  I decided on a simple
dish that they
had
to have, because otherwise the embarrassment would be
too much and I thought I might just walk out right then and there.

"Vegetable
tempura," I said, sheepish.

"An
excellent choice, madame," the waiter said with a smile.

Once the waiter
left, I confronted Asher.  "You read Japanese?"  My tone was nothing
less than outraged.

"No, but I
come here enough that I know most of the menu.  If you don't know what
something is, all you need to do is ask, you know?"

How obvious. 
I'd been so caught up in worrying about my problem, worrying about being seen
as some ignorant common woman, that I'd missed something so glaringly obvious. 
Granted, he could have told me that, or he could have asked me about the things
he'd ordered, but still.

"Is that
why you invited me here?" I asked him, frustrated, the very bare
beginnings of tears in my eyes.  "Did you want to humiliate me?  I know I
destroyed your book and I'm so very sorry about that, but there are better ways
to go about accepting it than embarrassing someone.  Maybe I'm not rich and I
probably couldn't afford to pay for half of what you ordered, but that doesn't
mean you can just mock me."

"Jessika..."
he said, looking upset.  Why was he upset?  I was the one being made fun of
here.

"Look.  I
get it, alright?  I really do.  Everything was just some farce.  I'm sure
that's how it always is with you people.  Pick up some person you consider
beneath you and bring them out somewhere fancy and then laugh at all the
bumbling things they do, and then let everyone else in the restaurant laugh,
too.  Maybe most people don't even realize it, but I do, so I'm just going to
leave now.  I understand what you wanted to do, and I understand why you did
it, but that doesn't make it any better for me, you know?"

He didn't even
say anything to contradict me.  Asher looked at me gravely, the most serious
expression on his face.  I wasn't sure what to think of that.  Was he annoyed
that I'd caught onto his game?  Or maybe upset with himself for playing me into
his hand without even considering my feelings?

He moved to the
side of his seat cushion.  I thought he was about to leave, in which case I had
no idea what I would say to the waiter.  No, please, don't bring the food. 
Asher is gone, and I can't afford it?  That would go over well.  Of course,
maybe they'd put it on his tab, or whatever, charge him for it when he came in
next, but that still didn't make me feel any better.

But, no, he
didn't leave.  He reached for a folding door hidden in a slit in the side of
the alcove entrance.  Pulling it out of its hiding spot, he moved it so that it
covered the rest of the entrance, closing us into our own private, personal
spot.  The door wasn't the most sturdy, but it looked like more than enough for
our small room.

"It's
surprisingly good at dulling sounds," Asher said.  "And as long as
you don't scream no one will hear anything more than a muffled
conversation," he added.

I watched him
return to his spot, dumbfounded.

"I didn't
mean to embarrass you," he said.  "I apologize if you thought I did. 
I figured you wouldn't know what to order, and I'm used to ordering for the
table, so I did.  Everything will be delicious, I assure you.  It's nothing too
strange, either.  And—"  He paused for a second, his brow furrowing. 
"You can sit however you'd like.  I know it's uncomfortable to sit
seiza
-style. 
My wife can't handle it for more than a few minutes, and you've been sitting
like that for close to ten."

I wiped the
tears from my eyes.  Why was he so nice now?  He acted so arrogant before, and
he still had a certain sense of cockiness, but he was... nicer?  I didn't know
how to explain it, but he seemed easier to get along with now.

My legs did
ache, too.  I'd wanted to ignore it, to show him up, but I could barely feel
them anymore; they were tingling, and most definitely asleep.  I tried to move
my feet to the side like he'd showed me before, but that didn't help.

"Stretch
them out," Asher said.  "Here, I'll sit to the side and do the same. 
That way we can both be comfortable."

"Alright,"
I said.  I shifted to the side and he moved the opposite way, then we both put
our legs straight out in front of us.

And, to my
surprise, Asher took one of my feet in his hands.  He moved it into his lap,
then began massaging my calf, easing away the tingling sensation.  I gasped,
caught off guard, but he only smiled at me.

"What are
you doing?" I asked.

"Shhh,"
he said.

His fingers!  My
God, he had an amazing touch.  And, well, obviously, right?  He brought me to
climax only yesterday in a matter of minutes with them, though I thought maybe
some of that had to do with the situation and my excitement of who exactly was
doing such a thing to me.  But, no, even with something relatively innocent, he
could work magic with his strong hands.

In a few
seconds, my calf felt delightfully relaxed.  Still a bit tingly, "waking
up" as it was, but better.  I stared at him, rapt, watching him work so
intently on massaging away my pain.  And then I got an idea.

He had my foot
in his lap, which of course gave me access to his crotch.  Not exactly, and
this was probably not in his initial plans, but I gained a certain amount of
satisfaction by ruining what he had in mind.  Only a little bit of ruining, I
thought.  Just enough.

I rolled my
ankle, letting my foot move in a circle, presumably stretching it while he
massaged my calf.  And then, as if by accident, I curled my toes so that they
touched the crotch of his pants.  I saw it, or I thought I did; a faint hint of
a startle on Asher's face.  But then it was gone, and he acted as if nothing
was amiss.

I frowned a
bit.  Not one to give up so easily, I pressed my toes to his crotch again, more
firm this time.  I wore no pantyhose, opting for bare feet and panties instead,
so the skin of my toes touched directly on the cotton fabric of his dark blue
suit pants.  I caressed him with my foot, feeling a twitch of interest from the
masculine object hidden under his pants.

While I stared,
intent, at my foot in his crotch, I didn't notice Asher had stopped massaging
my calf and was now looking at me.

"Jessika,"
he said with a growl.

"Yes?"
I asked, feigning innocence.

He pulled my
leg, removing me from my comfortable spot on the seat cushion.  My rear slid
forward under the table, and my back moved down so that my head rested where my
shoulders used to be.  Asher grinned at me, some devilishly delicious
expression, before placing his black-socked foot—just so—right between my
legs.  I gasped as his big toe found the cleft of my sex, wriggling up and down
along it.

"Asher!"
I said, half whisper and half gasp.

"Yes?"
he asked.  His feigned innocence came as more of a predatory snarl.