Assistance

The leather seat of Lawerence's car cradled me in luxury. I had never ridden in a Porsche before. I had never done a lot of things before working for Lawrence. I had never been to a Michelin rated restaurant before. I had never been to a premiere or exclusive event. Now, it was all a common occurrence.

It wasn't just the car or the events that were luxurious - it's Lawrence himself. The way he would never let me walk on the street side of the sidewalk. How he would open every door for me, and pull out every chair. Or how he lowered himself onto the floor, on his knee, to tie my shoe for me. I am capable of doing all these tasks. Lawrence knows this. He seems to believe I shouldn't have to. Maybe he recognizes my chronic need to be useful. It's not a performance for him; it's who he is.

At the beginning, I was reluctant. Argumentative, even. He broke me of that. Only after I had developed a baseline certainty that it wasn't a trap. It was one of those moments that his stern nature was helpful. It was if he demanded that I allow him to spoil me with moments of devotion.

"Tell me little one," Lawrence said, interrupting my philosophizing.

I looked around and realized we were on the on ramp for the highway. I had been lost in my own world for at least ten minutes. I squirmed at being called that name. It made me feel vulnerable.

"What do you envision when you say you want to worship me?"

He kept his eyes straight ahead, looking at the open road before us. It felt like he split his brain in two: one part was focused on driving, and the other zeroed in on me. This was a different feeling than last night. Less feral. This didn't feel like the dance before the pounce. There was a level of certainty now in his question. A sort of confidence. And yet, I felt shy.

But I couldn't be shy. Not now. I had a vision in my head. I dreamt about it. I saw it clearly each night as I would touch myself and yet I couldn't find the strength to describe a single moment of it. He was expecting me to be direct. I couldn't disappoint him.

"It means doing whatever you want me to, Daddy."

Ok, that wasananswer. Not the best answer, and not even necessarily the most true one, but it was honest and the one I could muster. I felt like I had overestimated my confidence in the aquarium. In all my daydreaming and imagining, I never once thought I would make it this far.

I could see his words milling around in his head. God, how could someone be so handsome? Just one look from him and I imagined doing depraved things to earn his praise. I must be some kind of freak.

I panicked at the silence. I looked down and saw his cock bulging in his jeans. Ok, he likes that. That's good. I'm doing good. I reached over and rubbed it. He released a heavy sigh. I leaned in and whispered,

"But I have some ideas if you'll allow it."

I playfully squeezed. He revved the engine. He growled. It was a good growl. At least I hoped. I believed it was. I pulled back and giggled, hoping that, if he was displeased, my girlish nature would defuse the situation.

Lawrence reached over, took my hand, and brought it to his lips. I sighed. I was doing good.

"You're going to pay for that later," he smirked, not taking his eyes off the road.

I giggled. I felt like a school girl who had too much champagne again. We fell silent. The silence wasn't uncomfortable per se. But it was too raw for me to tolerate and I needed to find reprieve so I started shimminging in my seat. He chuffed at my outburst and smiled. It was a gentle, earnest smile.

"You are a very good girl for wanting to please me, Annabelle," he continued, after a moment of contemplation.

I melted at the praise. Iwasdoing good.

"But I want you to describe what that means toyou."

Silence, again. This time as I processed his words. He loosened his grip on the wheel and looked at me from his periphery,

"Have you fantasized about worshipping me?"

I nodded in response.

"I'm driving a car, little girl. You need to use your words more."

Something about him calling me that made me want to dissolve. It made me feel safe. But also terrified. What does this say about me? None of this can be normal.

"Yes, Daddy, I have."

He released that sigh again, like pressure escaping. He tightened his grip around the wheel.

"I want you to describe those fantasies to me. Tell me what you see."

I could feel myself turning ruby red. I stuttered and squirmed. I never thought that this would actually happen. I thought I was depraved for having these visions in my head. What if he found them disgusting? What if he laughed?

"What are you feeling right now, baby girl?"

"I'm feeling...shy."

"Why shy?"

"It's just, I never thought that you'd want me like this."

I could feel his energy shift. He was softer. Relaxed. More Daddy than Dom.

"I understand, Annabelle."

There was something comforting in the way he said my name at that moment. It settled me into my body. It felt like I was a person, not just a fantasy that he could use to satiate some perception of dissipating youth. He was now, as he always was, considering my feelings and desires.

Lawrence followed the GPS to take a detour off an exit to avoid some building traffic along our route. We stopped at a red light, and he took the opportunity to look at me. Really look at me. He reached out for my hand. I graciously accepted the affection. I traced his hand, calloused from years of building passion projects to blow off steam. Remnants and reminders of all the things he has conjured into existence.

"It's always scary with someone new. I get it. When we were at the aquarium, I was asking myself how such an incredible, beautiful person could ever be interested in me."

I opened my mouth to try to explain but he stopped me.

"But then you reached out and touched my hand."

He paused and looked down. He couldn't hold eye contact. I think he might have been feeling shy too.

"You let me know that it was safe to explore with you. I want you to feel that right now, princess. We can go as slow as you want."

He brought his eyes back up to mine and held me there for a moment. He continued,

"But I want you to know that you don't have to feel embarrassed or scared of me judging you. We may not share every kink or fantasy but we will handle those in the same way we handle the ones we do share: with respect, communication and curiosity."

God, he is amazing. He knew exactly what I needed. The light turned green, he released my hand, and eased us back into motion.

"Now tell me, how do you want to worship your Daddy? Tell me how you want to begin."

I took a deep breath and prayed to find the right words. Not for his sake, but for my own. I was terrified of saying the wrong thing. He was making me feel more comfortable, like I could at least broach it. Still, there was a constant undercurrent of anxiety.

"Well, I guess I want to begin groveling."

I could feel myself turn even redder at my admission. His eyebrows perked up. At minimum he was intrigued.

"Explain what that means to you, princess."

I adjusted myself in my seat. I could feel my juices pooling in my cotton panties. If anything, I was grateful I had opted for dark pants.

"I just, really want to get on the ground sometimes when I'm around you. I don't know what it is. I want to be completely bared out for you. I want to,"

I clammed up.

"Keep going baby girl -you're doing good."

He reached out and touched my thigh. I could feel him hanging on every word. I was on the right path - he was alongside me for the ride.

"I want to kiss your shoes and work my way up your legs. I want to kiss and touch every inch of you. To prove that I am worthy of your attention. I-I want to earn your attention."

"Good girl. Very good girl. Have you ever done that before?"

"No, Daddy."

"Have you thought about doing it with anyone else before?

"No, Daddy. That's why I got really shy."

He hummed at my statement. He fell silent. It felt like being encased in lead. Not even the radio filled the silence.

"I've had a lot of fantasies and thoughts I've never had before," I said meekly.

"So shoe or foot fetish isn't directly on your itinerary of interests?"

He chucked and smirked at me.

"Oh, no!"

I giggled as I pulled on my seatbelt and adjusted myself. I was grateful to him for lightening the mood. There was something incredibly sexy about a man who has a sense of humor when it comes to, well, sex.

"That's why it took me off guard. I'm not into, like, boot worship or anything like that. But for some reason, one day you wore this pair of shoes that made me want to drop to the ground and kiss them."

"Which shoes, darling?"

I looked down sheepishly. He wasn't letting me off the hook easily. I described his leather boots with the buckles on the side. He growled, taking note.

"Keep going."

I stammered. It felt like I had forgotten what I had just said, or the order of operations in which I had said it. Lawrence assisted and encouraged me,

"What do you want to do after you work your way up my legs?"

Another wave of arousal washed over me. He was stoic, looking ahead at the road. There is no way Lawrence wasn't acutely aware of the impact he was having on me.. Was he planning and calculating the moment he would tear my legs apart and dive into the ocean he was creating inside me?

"I-I want to hold your dick in my mouth. I want to kiss it and suck on it and, and -"

I tugged on the pull strings of my hoodie, feeling them tighten ever so slightly around my neck. Damn shyness again.

"It's ok, princess. You can say it. You can be a good girl and my little slut. That would please me."

I whimpered a bit. God, I was terrified and turned on. Why was he doing this to me?

"Do you want to be my good little cock warmer? Sit on the floor and make sure my dick stays nice and warm in your mouth?"

I squirmed, turned on by his words but horrified at the exposure. My face burned to three-hundred degrees. How was it that it felt like he was reading my mind?

"Yes, Daddy, I do."

He smiled as he turned on his blinker to turn into the hotel. I sighed with relief. If he had remained stoic I think I would have tucked and rolled right out of the car.

Lawrence looked at me, still smiling,

"Good girl, Annabelle.You did such a good job using your words."

Relief washed over me. I felt better, lighter. At ease. For now.

We pulled into the valet lane of the swanky highrise hotel, the type with an express elevator that shoots you up to the top floor like a reverse Tower of Terror. There was a slick, cascading waterfall in front. Everything felt shiny.

"Wow," I said, almost unintentionally.

"Yes, not my ideal but it will do for us, for now, until I can plan something more fitting. Normally I enjoy more quaint getaways but this will serve our purposes nicely. And besides - I know they'll make sure my baby girl is taken care of."

I cocked an eyebrow at him, perplexed by what he meant. What did he have in mind that he was not yet disclosing to me? Lawrence knows I have an insatiable curiosity. He knew he would have me eating out of his hand for information.

While we joined the waiting parade of other early weekend vacationers, Lawrence reached out for my hand again. He squeezed tight,

"Thank you for opening up, baby girl. You were very brave for telling me. You did so well."

I smiled at his praise. Some of my hair fell into my face as I looked down. He pushed it behind my ear. It almost made me forget the litany of questions I had for him. Almost.

He must have been able to read my quizzical expression because he continued,

"Here's what we are going to do. We have all weekend to explore. I want to know you - all of you. I want the full, raw Annabelle. Not the one I get to see at work. Not the one your friends see. I want to be with Annabelle that has those dirty fantasies that make her cheeks flush. The Annabelle that wants to earn praise. The Annabelle who craves release. I want you for all of you -- not just what you think you can give me."

I tried to hold back tears. No one has ever spoken to me that way before. He raised my hand to his lips and held a kiss there.

"Annabelle, I'm going to ask you a very important question. It is imperative that you answer honestly. There will be no negative repercussions for your answer. You don't have to worry about pleasing me or making me happy. I want you to be honest. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Lawrence," His tone was serious and I knew this was not the time for play.

"Good. Annabelle,"

There was a palatable silence. Again, not uncomfortable but solemn.

"Do you trust me?"

It was a heavy question. My pool of data is from work experience and some intimate conversations shared after hours.

I thought about all the times he was harsh with me. The times I questioned my capabilities and value within the job. The times I spent my lunch break crying. The times where I couldn't seem to get anything right. The times my friends told me I was crazy for staying.

But then I thought about how, no matter how harsh he had been, he would ask me if I wanted coffee or tea. How he would course correct and admit his fault. The times he would defend me against others, because God knows there are some vicious people out there. The time he wired me money when he overheard me arguing with the bank when my debit card was compromised and my account emptied. I thought about all the ways he made me feel safe and protected.

Then I remembered how he looked at the aquarium. How he was contemplative and lost in his thoughts. I had no way of knowing for certain but it felt like he was replaying those moments too. The harsh moments. The kind moments. The loving moments.

Lawrence was patient in the silence while I thought over his question. He did not rush me to respond. I came to a conclusion,

"I trust you."

His shoulders released. Not in a way to suggest that it was permission, but absolution.

"Thank you, Annabelle. I will do everything in my power to protect and be worthy of your trust."

We smiled at each other. Lawrence leaned in and gave me a tender kiss on the lips.

What I said was true, but I had a nagging voice in the back of my head repeating,

"Still..."

Lawrence continued,

"So. Now that we have established that. I'm going to reveal plans for the weekend on a need-to-know basis. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. Ok, so step 1: we give the car to the valet. Step 2, we check-in. Step 3, we go up to the room. Step 4,"

I perked up. I was hoping we could jump right into my fantasies. If I was being vulnerable, surely I would be rewarded sooner rather than later.

"Will be revealed after we complete Step 3."

He chuckled as I deflated. I will admit, it was a momentary lapse into brattiness.

"Patience, little girl. Good things are coming - you just have to wait for them."

"That's the part I enjoy the least."

Lawrence chucked again and released a sly,

"Oh, I know."

The Valet approached us. He opened my door first and I slid out of the car. Lawrence handed over his keys, received his ticket, and gave the Valet a handshake. The Valet had a broad smile so I can only assume it was a generous handshake. Lawrence took pride in sharing his wealth with the service industries. It was one of my favorite qualities about him.

As we walked into the lobby, my jaw dropped. Everything was indeed shiny. There were crystal chandeliers sparkling and marble floors that refracted sound. Was this how Julia Roberts felt inPretty Woman? Lawrence reached out for my hand and guided it through his arm so he could lead me to the check-in counter.

I remembered the important lesson of "fixing my face" while at the counter. Being slack jawed and glittered eyed in front of strangers is not the most flattering impression to give.

As we waited in line, an elegant woman around Lawrence's age emerged from behind a door. Her gracefulness reminded me of Julie Andrews. Lawrence walked over to her, almost out of instinct.

"Welcome back Mr. Sheffield," the woman greeted warmly.

"Thank you, Cheryl, good to see you. How are you?"

"Doing well, Mr. Sheffield - thank you for asking. Checking-in?"

"Yes, we are."

I partially hid myself behind Lawrence. I didn't want to scandalize him in any way - especially now figuring out this was a regular destination for him.

I, on the other hand, felt totally out of my element. If we were attending a work function, I would know how to behave. What is expected of me. Here was a different league. It didn't help that I felt younger than I am - and not in the soothing way. Between my casual clothes and lack of makeup, I must have also looked younger than I am.

Cheryl looked past Lawrence to see me. Lawrence even side stepped a bit to aid her view. Cheryl smiled at me. Not that polite smile that has a "bless your heart" undertone. But a genuine smile. At least I hopped.

"Ah, bringing a guest at last, Mr. Sheffield?"

At last?

Lawrence smiled and looked over his shoulder at me.

"Finally found someone worth bringing."

Did someone crank the heat up to 109? Beads of sweat began to form on my forehead. Maybe the rumors weren't true. Cheryl's smile transformed from warm to knowing before my eyes.

"Then we'll have to make this extra special for you two," she said as began typing on her computer.

While Cheryl focused on that, Lawrence reached behind him and brought me forward. He placed me at his side. Once again, he took my hand and linked it through his arm. He looked ahead and smiled.

I looked down, almost closing my eyes. I imagined an altar. I tried to feel the wedding dress on my body. Smell the flowers. Roses. We would have roses.

My eyes shot open at the sound of Cheryl's voice,

"OK, Mr. Sheffield, you two are all set," she passes over an envelope with the keys,

"And the items you requested in the notes are in the room waiting for you. I am also sending some extra amenities as a welcome to the Regent Family."

Cheryl looked at me as she passed over the room key- to let me know he had somehow prearranged some magic to happen and now she was in on it, too.

"Thank you so much, Cheryl. Pleasure as always."

"Likewise, Mr. Sheffield. Enjoy your stay."

Lawrence and I walked away from the counter. Cheryl disappeared into the back. Lawrence directed me towards the elevators across the marble lobby.

"I've been coming here many years," he explained as he pressed the elevator button,

"This is the hotel I booked for my first big pitch. I wanted to appear more important than I was, so I chose the cheapest option at the swankiest place. Nearly went broke over one night. I was shaking like a leaf the entire time," he chuckled at the memory and continued,

"It was Cheryl's first solo day behind the desk. She was nervous as well. Somehow we bonded over it. When I booked again, she was once again behind the desk. And then again. In a funny way, our careers grew up alongside each other. She's the manager now but still goes out of her way to check me in whenever she sees my name. For old times sake."

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. We stepped inside.

"I thought you like more rustic getaways?"

"I do. But I'm also nostalgic," Lawrence pressed the stylized 42,

"Besides, they have a phenomenal veggie lasagna on their room service menu."

The doors shut. The elevator shot up to our floor.

Checking-in to a hotel with no bags is an odd sensation. We had nothing with us but the clothes on our backs. It felt as if we had run away together, like we are romantic leads setting off into the sunrise of a new adventure. In a sense, I guess we were. But I still could not seem to fully shake the seeds of doubt from my mind. This had to be too good to be true.