“Where are your wine glasses?” was the first thing he said when I answered the door.
“Where they always are,” was my answer as I stepped back to let him enter. “What are you doing walking in here like that?”
“Just get them for me, wench.”
“What?” I’d never seen him like this. “Get them yourself,” was my rebuke, “You know where they are.”
“I had to see if you were still in that submissive zone.” He smiled at me.
“You could have just asked. I haven’t been submissive all weekend.”
“Then what’s this about falling in love?” He walked into my kitchen and took down two wine glasses. He then proceeded to open a bottle of Bordeaux he’d brought with him. He poured two glasses.
He handed me one. “Here, drink this,” he ordered.
“No,” was my response. “What is your problem? Come sit down and st
