dontjudge06242014aRe Read Online Free PDF Page A

and a black
tee shirt.  Dark hair curled in thick rivulets over his forehead, and
scruffiness on his cheeks told me that his day had already been a long one. 
His expression showed that being kind to me was something he could barely
face.  My heart ached to delve into his, drag out his misery and comfort it. 
But I doubted that kind of behavior would be welcomed.
    “Here, this is a concoction of my mothers.  She says it’s
suitable for a lady,” he shrugged.  “Try it, she swears by it for her nerves.”
    I took a small sip from the chilled silver cup he’d handed
me and studied the dark liquid dubiously.  It was presented perfectly with a
small sprig of jasmine on top; the scent was both sweet and exotically spicy. 
I put it to my lips and let it drip between them.  “Mmm, it’s very good!” I
said with a surprised smile.  “Kind of a spiced, mint julep.  I love it.”
    He laughed, “I’ll be sure to tell her.”
    I drank in earnest now, “Really, it’s amazing.  What’s in
here?  Do you know?”
    Lowering himself into the chair across from me he looked
weary, “Muddled dates and orange, cinnamon, nutmeg, and allspice over Kentucky
bourbon.  Then she steeps it slowly and strains it through ice into the decanter.”
    I chuckled, “Sounds like you’ve had instruction.”
    He stood abruptly, “We’re not here for a cooking lesson, Elizabeth. 
Stand up and let me see what you’ve worn for me.”
    My nerves returned with vengeance but I managed to follow
his simple order.  I’d done my homework:  Rule number one was always follow
orders; they’re there for a reason.  Regardless, I felt like a poser, a bad
actress portraying an even worse role.
    His eyes followed me coarsely, “Take off those clothes.  You
look like a cheap whore.”
    Tears sprang to my eyes and blood rushed to my face.  I’d
imagined, incorrectly, that this sort of lifestyle required a bit of
‘smuttiness’.  Now he looked at me like a tramp - a prostitute - and the
humiliation rang through me like Baptist church bells.  Reaching up I
unbuttoned the remaining four buttons on my silk shirt.  I’d chosen it because
of its tight fit, but now it disgusted him and I wanted it off.  The coolness
of the room struck my skin and my nipples perked beneath the simple bra I’d
chosen.  The urge to run was nearly overwhelming, but I stayed my ground with
timid acceptance.
    “The rest,” he said plainly.
    I concentrated on the sound of his voice and let it ring
over and over in my head until it was the only sound, thought and reality
available to me.  The short black skirt slid down to my ankles and I stepped
over it, revealing the white boy shorts that matched my plain bra.  If I’d
expected some expression from him I’d have been sorely disappointed.  He never
flinched or blinked.  “I don’t understand your attire, Elizabeth.  On the
outside you’ve chosen to dress like a whore, but beneath you’ve let your
innocence run amuck.  Did you do this intentionally?”
    I shook my head, “No.”
    With a chuckle he stood and moved towards me; his scent
became my sole source of concentration.  He was slightly spiced, as if his
cologne was measured daily for the exact amount.  I had the feeling that
nothing in his life was left to chance, not even the spray nozzle on his
cologne.  And I had displeased him right off the bat by being inconsistent,
awkward, and covered in sheer terror.
    His breath was warm next to my chilled throat.  I swallowed
and stood as solidly as I could when he began to touch me.  Running his fingers
tentatively up and down my spine, lifting my hair from the back of my neck and
unhooking my bra, he examined me as carefully as he would any other object he
was thinking of purchasing.  It was only then I realized my teeth were so
firmly clinched that I must have the nature of a mannequin.  Quickly I relaxed
my jaw and turned my attention to his touch.  My bra fell to the floor with a
light