Pretty in Pink Pt2 Try Me On For Size by DFaust

Seeing Harlow at the club was far from expected. Hell, seeing him at all, ever again, after I turned him down…
Now I was chewing my lip and waiting at Knead. The barista served me my usual – a large chair with plenty of whipped cream on top. I think she knew I was nervous and offered me a croissant on the house. I declined. “I’m about to go have dinner.”
This earned me a raised brow and a nod. Did she know? How could she know?

Staring at my drink I thought about my strange night.
Harlow looked far from put off after seeing my work in action. The look in his icy blue eyes was…I shook the thought away and sat down at a table near the door. My usual spot was taken up by a few people arguing over whether or not the Star Wars prequels were worth watching.
It was strange being in Knead before midnight. Still, it was worth the people looking at my outfit with a mix of interest and disgust.
I tried to keep my smile off my face but couldn’t help it.

“Are you hungry?” I asked Harlow after seeing Wallie and his boyfriends off to the after care lounge.
Harlow nodded then frowned. He looked over his shoulder at a young guy talking to two girls. “I’m on duty.”
The young guy looked up and gestured for Harlow to come over. I wondered for a moment if one of the girls in cat ears was his date and tried to ignore the pang of jealousy that sprang up from the thought.
“Just a second,” Harlow said before leaving. He and the young guy talked – well the young guy talked. Harlow nodded.
After a moment the two girls and guy stood and Harlow came back. “I gotta get my client back to his place. But…that should only take about twenty minutes or so.”
There was an eagerness to his voice that I liked.
“Want to meet at Knead a little early?” I asked.
His face lit up in that crooked smile that I enjoyed more than I should. He agreed and headed out with the threesome in tow.
After checking on Wallie, I made my rounds, saying hi to various clients and declining to play. I had plans.

The door to Knead opened but I was disappointed. It was a couple of women who looked tired. They sneered at my outfit but I only smiled back. I’d been in the scene for a decade and there wasn’t much that phased me anymore.
Not much other than six-and-a-half foot tall security guys with crooked smiles and blue eyes. Was I blushing?
I could remember the first time Harlow sat down to talk with me. I’d been admiring his backside – how his black slacks and black t-shirt hugged his muscular form. He was thick – not the usual slim and cut body builders I’d seen. There was meat to him and yea he looked like he could bench press a car but he also had a belly and a neck I didn’t think I could fit both hands around.
What would it be like to climb him like the damn mountain he was?
We did the small talk thing. I learned he was in security – bouncer, body guard, door man shit. He didn’t sound too thrilled about it even though I thought it was interesting. He refused to talk about his boss and I understood. I didn’t talk about my clients either.
When he asked me out I thought all that small talk was over with.

The door opened and Harlow sat down. He didn’t bother to grab his usual order – large caramel mocha, no whip.
“Weird being here so early,” he said, looking around at the other customers.
I nodded. “Not the only anomaly tonight.”
That crooked smile to match his adorably crooked nose. He was a brawler, or had been at least. I remember the first night I thought about asking him out. He came into Knead looking like a horror show. His left eye was swollen shut, his bottom lip split, and his normally confident gait was now a limp. The barista looked horrified as she made his order.
When he sat down, with a wince, he still smiled. I asked if he was alright and he said he felt great. “Nothing like a little pain to make you feel alive.”
Yes, I’m a fucking sadist and yes I wanted to make him feel alive.

“You asked if I was hungry.”
I smiled and nodded as he brought me back to the here and now. “Are you?’
“Always,” he said with a grin. I wondered if we were talking about food.
“I know where to get the best spaghetti alla puttanesca in the city,” I offered with a smile. “And its quiet so we can talk.”
“I’d like to talk,” Harlow said, his expression softening. There was heat in his gaze but also something else I couldn’t identify. “My car is out front.”
“I took an uber.”
“I’m more than happy to drive you,” he said as we stood. He opened the door and gestured me through while looking up and down the sidewalk outside. I wondered if that was just something ingrained from his job but didn’t mind. It was kind of nice to feel like someone was watching out for me.

“Your place?” Harlow asked as I directed him to pull his 1964 Ford Galaxie into the driveway.
I smirked, “It’s quiet and my puttanesca is delicious.”
“I bet,” he said as he shut the car off. “Let me get your door.”

While my house is far from the finest restaurant, I couldn’t imagine my attire would get me through the door at any upscale location anyways. We entered through the side door into the kitchen.
Harlow looked almost too big for the place but I figured he probably looked like that no matter where he was. The dude was just huge and I wondered if all of his anatomy was that way.
He looked around from kitchen into the living room. “No dungeon to drag your victims back to?” I was grateful for the soft smile on his face as he said this.
“I don’t bring clients here,” I said as I moved around the kitchen to get dinner started. Then again, I had enough toys in my bag and bedroom to turn the place into a makeshift dungeon if the need arose.
“Anything I can help you with?” Harlow asked as I gathered ingredients and got the past on to cook.
Oh there were lots of things he could help me with but I refused to go there right now. “I’ve got a bottle of Nero d’Avola in the wine cabinet. If you’ll get that out and two glasses…”
He set about that immediately and I wondered how quick he would be to follow other kinds of orders.

I saw the paste into cooking and turned. “I’m going to change into something more comfortable, if you don’t mind.”
He looked at me from head to two and back and smiled. “I don’t mind at all.”
Trying to be quick, I stripped out of the school girl outfit, tossing it (underwear and all) into the hamper. I slipped into a pink cotton sundress and tightened my ponytail. I didn’t have time to touch up my makeup but at least my eyeliner was still looking good.
Emerging from the bedroom, I took a moment to admire how Harlow stood. He was looking at a painting on the wall that partitioned the living room from the kitchen. It was a watercolor of a muscular man just starting to pull off his briefs.

“Nude 49 by Chris Lopez,” I said, startling Harlow.
He turned to me, looked my dress over and I noticed how his eyes lingered on my breasts – nipples pressing against the pink cotton despite how warm the room felt.
“It was a gift,” I said by way of explanation before checking on the food. The pasta was nearly al dente and the sauce smelled delicious.
“Interesting gift,” Harlow said as he took a seat at my small white iron table. It was an outdoor piece but I have a weakness for white filigree.
“Dinner is served,” I said as I got out some plates and began to pile the just-finished pasta onto them.
Harlow opened the wine and admired the meal with gusto. As he ate I realized that I might not have made enough. I do like a man with an appetite…in all things.

“I admit, I was a little surprised,” he admitted when I asked him about showing up at Beat. “Boss told me to take care of his kid, keep him out of trouble. I had no idea I’d be seeing you there.” He smiled. “I’m glad for it though.”
I felt warm all over and it wasn’t the wine. “Then we are both surprised.”
“You didn’t think I’d be interested because of your work?” He hit the nail on the head.
“Most guys aren’t that aren’t submissives. Then again most submissive guys I know are clients or guys that want to be clients.”
“You don’t date them?” He asked as he cleaned his plate. I asked if he wanted more but he shook his head. I got the feeling he was being polite but didn’t push it.
As for his question…I sighed. “The non-subs don’t like the idea of dating a Domme or think that they can teach me to submit,” I rolled my eyes at that and was rewarded by a chuckle from Harlow. “The sub guys I’ve tried to date usually want a 24/7 D/s relationship. It tends to feel like I’m working without rest.”
“So you’re seeking balance,” he asked. When I nodded he did too as if he actually understood.

“What about you?” I asked and he looked taken aback. “Why no girlfriend?”
He thought about this for a moment while looking at his wine. “My schedule is a bit of a mess. I am on call every day for Boss and when I’m not working I’m usually at the gym or competing.”
Now I was intrigued. “Competing?”
“Strongman competitions.”
“Oh so you can bench press a car?” This earned me a confused look and I knew I was blushing. “I was admiring your physique.”
He smiled and nodded. “I’m no Hafthor Bjornsson but I hold my own,” he said. I recognized the reference to The Mountain guy from Game of Thrones.

I licked my lips, wondering how strong the ropes would have to be to hold a strongman down.
“Sounds like we both have to find some sort of balance.”
“Perhaps that can be arranged,” Harlow said, setting his wineglass down.
I looked him over and nodded. “Perhaps.”
“What do you have in mind?” Harlow asked, leaning back in my white chair. It creaked and his expression turned apologetic. Oh he was going to be fun.

What did I have in mind? “I would like to take you into my bedroom, strip all of your clothes off of you and get a good look at what a strongman physique really looks like.”
His ice blue eyes now burned into me. I saw his throat work as he swallowed.
“Then I’d like to tie you to my bed and run my hands over every inch of you,” I went on. “When you’re so hard you can’t stand it, I’d like to ride you until I come at least three times. Then…if you’re very good for me, I’d love to watch your expression while I get you off.”
He was breathing harder and barely blinking. I waited. What would he say to that?

“Do you have rope?”

I smiled. “It’s pink.”

“Of course it is.”