Thread: Hire Me {Father Figure & AnnaBeth Belle}

He was not used to being read in this fashion and for a moment he was just as frightened as she was. To be so vulnerable, revealed, opened for another human being was not an experience that he enjoyed and his features grew still, not a muscle moving on his face as she spoke her final words. That stillness was not meant to frighten her, it was not meant to be intimidating in the slightest, it was just the outermost expression of his own internal fears and failures. A psyche that struggled constantly with the allure and desires, the wants, and to see himself so blatantly known when he had hid all of this for decades from the people around him. It bothered him, deeply, and he tried to find the words to reply but found himself flailing just the tiniest of bits. It reminded him of when he was young, a child in elementary school, and how he had stuttered and curled his r's. Having to go to speech therapy several times a week, having to try to communicate with his peers and failing miserably. He felt like an idiot. Affording it was not the problem. He started to speak and then paused when the waiter returned to provide them water and a basket of bread. That look on his face of consternation, that he had been thrown off kilter just the tiniest of bits still persisted, but it was being pushed down below the surface like a sinking ship. By the time that waiter had stepped away he was in control once more, but control for this man meant something wholly different than in a normal individual. That control was the thin ice that covered the roaring waters beneath it and he watched her like the starving man that he was....desperate for the feast. With her words she had offered him everything he could have wanted in a human being, a woman who was willing to throw herself beneath his hands and serve him in a way that none had before her. It frightened him just as much as it frightened her and that was the real problem and the one which made him more than just hungry, it made him angry. He hated looking like a fool, looking like an idiot, like some weak thing and that is how he viewed his instability. It made him feel like a beggar to want the attention of a woman such as her and that kind of thought process was not something he would stomach. His hand on the table slightly curled, almost a claw, not to hit...no, he would never hit a woman unless it was an actually required act of self-defense. Any pain he inflicted was of the sexual variety, never the violent. No, that curling was to bring pain to himself...digging his nails into the palm of his hand. It reminded him of the moment, to calm himself, to regain that control...and he did, suddenly, like a light switch being turned on and that slow self-deprecating smile returned to his face. This man hated himself...and somehow that hate allowed him to fuse together a personality where none should. As he often had stated to friends the key to truly being a human being was one very simple rule.... get over yourself. His words were calm, smoothly spoken, and arrogant in the demand. Considering he was about to be obeyed, perhaps the arrogance was deserved. Spread your fucking thighs. I don't care if it gets us kicked out, or who sees you, or what you chose to wear. Show me what is mine.