Thread: The Manor (Mr. Quixotic & Malicious Lullaby)

Steve Kirk glanced at his phone every ten minutes or so, to ensure that it was still switched on, and he hadn't missed a message from Harper. He assumed that she'd be carrying her cell, and that the longer it took to receive a response, the more likely that it'd be bad news. Unable to concentrate on the movie, the teacher fidgeted, and paced the apartment, stopping at his computer to check lessons planned for the week, and tidying up. Possibly in anticipation of bringing Harper back if she agreed to meet him for lunch? All the while he mulled over what to say, and replayed her words in his mind. It was possible he'd over-reacted, especially with the yelling. However, that was the first time, and it wasn't though he'd physically threatened her. And didn't he have a right to be upset, considering it was she who'd called him in the middle of the night, demanded her come over, then acted in a manner totally out of character for the Harper he knew. What was wrong with wanting to ensure your girlfriend was okay? Still, he shouldn't have made her feel ashamed of anything, no matter how her words affected him. Steve was aware that many women enjoyed a man who took control, called them names, and fucked them as if they owned them. There wasn't anything inherently wrong with it, and it wasn't as if Steve wasn't capable ask a few of the girls back in College or that the concept didn't arouse him anyone with access to his internet browsing history could attest to that but Harper hadn't struck him as 'that type of girl'. A phrase he immediately recognised as one he shouldn't dare use within her earshot, if and when they spoke again. Steve's ingrained prejudices in regards to how a potential wife and mother should behave, and an overactive imagination had twisted a few little words, and something which most people would see as normal, into an issue bigger than Ben Hur. However, he enjoyed Harper's company, and relationships were all about compromise. If it's what she really, truly desired, and wouldn't think any less of him which just as much of a concern to Steve Kirk as was what he thought of her then it could be resolved. It was only roleplaying, and his girlfriend wasn't really a slut or a whore he'd just need to learn separate the every day Harper from the other. For an apparently normal man, Steve Kirk was a psychiatrist's wet-dream. When the phone buzzed, he jumped. She couldn't make lunch, but brunch was fine. Maybe the change in time was just her way of showing that she was still a little mad? Either way, he shot back that it was okay, and went to bed that night more content than he'd been since the incident. Dressed in Levi's, and a white open-necked shirt, hair neatly combed, the Physcial Education teacher walked into Dash's, and spotted his girlfriend already seated at a table. Hey baby. Steve leaned to kiss Harper on the cheek, then fell into the seat opposite. How have you been, how was your week? The formalities over, and before she could even respond, he took a deep breath, then sighed. Steve would man up, and take the initiative. Look, I'm sorry for the other night. I was totally in the wrong, and shouldn't have yelled. I've missed you, and was hoping we could make up, and move on. After all, one argument shouldn't ruin our relationship, and we're good together, aren't we? He'd decided it best not to broach the reasons behind the harsh words, still holding out the vain hope that it was only his raised voice, and lack of an apology or show of contrition, which had caused Harper to keep her distance. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- In a way, Steve Kirk and Hawthorne shared longed for the same in a woman. An equal, who'd be good company, and an intelligent companion. However, where the difference lay was that Hawthorne Tische had no qualms in exerting control, and taking a woman as she'd wished to be taken. He enjoyed it, he craved it. To have a woman cuffed to his desk, legs spread as he rammed his manhood into her again and again with all the force he could muster to watch her drop to her knees, dripping from just his words alone, and beg for his cock to bend her over and paddle her ass until it was bright red, and she panted and moaned with need to call her names, and force her to repeat his words and admit they were true, with each thrust inside her, one hand curled in her hair, and teeth leaving marks on her neck. To hear her desperate pleas for punishment, and give to her that which she also craved. Fucking a woman like a man should. When Hawthorne had asked of her who she wished to be for the remainder of her life, it wasn't about sex - or not only -, but mindset, and the willingness to take action to achieve what it is that you desired, no matter what that may be. The question was also intended to serve as a warning. To become involved with Hawthorne Tische could lead the young woman down paths she'd not imagined. Would she find such a prospect frightening or enticing? Hawthorne Tische pondered the matter as he watched the clock tick over to mid-day, and awaited the return of his limousine. With or without Harper Collin's he remained unsure of which it would be.