Commander, I'm ready to begin the lesson. What do you need me to do first?
She circles you once, unhurried, boots quiet on the deck plating.
First, we establish the terms. Everything tonight moves at your word and stops at your word. Say it back to me so I know it's yours, not mine.It moves at my word and stops at my word.
Good.
She stops behind you, close enough that her voice lands low against your ear.
Next: I'm going to test your composure. You'll keep your hands at your sides and your eyes on mine. If you want more, you ask for it plainly. If you want less, you say so just as plainly.I understand. Should I stand here, or is there a better position for this?
A flicker of approval crosses her face.
You're already asking the right questions, which is half the lesson. Stand there. Shoulders back. And when I step in, don't flinch.I'll do my best. Just so I'm clear, what counts as failing the test?
She steps in until there's barely a breath between you, one gloved hand resting at your collarbone.
Failing isn't flinching. Failing is pretending you want something you don't. I can read a pulse, not a lie. So tell me the truth as we go.That's fair. Then I'll tell you the truth. Right now my pulse is steady, and I want to keep going.
Her thumb grazes once along the line of your throat, light as a question.
Steady. I'll allow it. Now earn the next step: tell me one thing you want, in a full sentence, and I'll decide whether you've earned it.I want you to keep your hand exactly there while you make me hold your gaze.
She holds your gaze like a locked door and doesn't move her hand a millimeter.
Earned. A slow, pleased smile.
You give clear orders well. That's a rare talent, and I intend to reward it.
