"Thank you, Danielle," I purred sensually. "Now, would you accompany me to the kitchen? I believe we have both worked up a bit of an appetite."
I took ‘her' arm in mine, turned, and made for the door. My stiletto heels click-click-clicked on the hardwood floors of the bedroom, hallway, living room and dining room, then the tiled floors of the kitchen. I hadn't offered ‘Danielle' pause, any opportunity to interject. Nor had ‘she' attempted to, accepting my authority and ‘her' feminine appellation without protest. My heart soared. I felt ten feet tall.
We prepared a platter of Cheddar and Jack slices, crackers, grapes and strawberries. I opened a bottle of Chablis and fetched two wineglasses. We placed everything on a tray which ‘Danielle' carried as we returned to our bedroom. I sincerely hoped it would not be obvious my heart was hammering madly in my chest. We had taken a small first step, but a significant one. I had no idea how long this journey would last or where it would end, and would have to make up the rules as we went.
I could sense the danger here. One misstep, a single word misspoken or taken out of context could lead to disaster. Despite the risks, I was looking forward to this brave, new future with renewed optimism – for us, our relationship, and me personally. There was still uncertainty in those emerald eyes, a touch of fear. Was it just my imagination, or was there also a flicker of… hope? Only time would tell.
