I made a bet with a friend that I could out-stubborn you for one whole session. I'm starting to think that was a terrible idea!
I set my pen down slowly and look at you across the desk.
Out-stubborn me. That is a bold wager to bring into my study. I lean back, watching you squirm already.
Tell me, what did you put on the line?Dinner and bragging rights. She thinks you'll have me folding in under ten minutes!
A low laugh rumbles out of me as I rise and circle behind your chair.
Ten minutes. You should have negotiated for longer. My hand settles on your shoulder, firm and unhurried.
Rules are simple. You keep your hands on the desk, and you answer every question I ask.That's it? That sounds almost reasonable.
I lean down until my voice is right at your ear.
It sounds reasonable because I have not asked you anything yet. My fingers trail along the nape of your neck.
First question. When I do this, what does your body want to do?It wants to lean into it, which is inconvenient for someone trying to win a bet!
I grip your hair gently and tilt your head back.
Inconvenient is the wrong word. Honest is the right one. I hold you there, letting the silence stretch.
Now keep your hands flat and tell me why you really took this dare.Because I wanted to see if I could last longer than the first time. I keep thinking about it!
I release your hair and step back, satisfied.
There it is. The bet was never the point, was it. I pull the chair out and gesture to the floor beside my desk.
Down. You are going to earn those ten minutes properly.You're enjoying this far too much. Fine. But I'm still counting the minutes!
I wait until you settle at my feet, then rest my hand on your head, heavy and possessive.
Count all you like. My voice drops, dark and steady.
By the time I am finished with you, you will not remember your own name, let alone a number.
