Yes Sirs Novels & Stories

There's no anger in his voice, only a possessive, intimidating tone, like a predator praising its prey's cleverness before the pounce. I try to brace my hands against his chest to create distance. But my fingers end up clutching the fine fabric of his white shirt, feeling the intoxicating heat of his body. "Sir, please... let me go. This is a public place." Xavier lets out a low chuckle. The vibration of his voice travels from his chest straight to my palm, making my heart beat even more wildly. He slowly tilts my chin up with his index finger and thumb, forcing me to look into the molten gold of his eyes.

Celine had asked in her most polite tone. The guy looked up to see who it was that walked up to him. His eyes were so dark and void that Celine felt like crawling into her skin. She didn't like the way this customer was scanning her with his eyes. "Sir?" She called again. "Shut up!" He commanded in a low voice but sounded as cold as ice. Xavier wondered who the new girl was and when these coffee freaks started hiring outsider as waiters. He was here for business as usual but this waitress seemed to be clueless and he had no time to explain who he was and what he wanted to her.

Sir laughed lightly, “Tell me.” I pushed my hair behind my ears, I placed my fingertip on his arms and drew circles, “You know…..lights are turned off….. music is on….behind a closed door…. Clothes…” “Inaya oh my goodness,” Sir chuckled softly, “Let’s take this a step at a time, we are not there yet.” “Okay Sir,” I rolled my eyes playfully. “Inaya,” Sir called, until today I never noticed Sir has a calm, deep, rough voice that soothes the ear, “Can you stop calling me Sir now?”

He kept his distance, as though getting too close might be a mistake he wasn’t willing to risk. I tilted my head slightly, observing him for a moment longer. I could have poured my own drink, but I didn’t. “Serve me another, please.” I kept my voice calm, almost indifferent. I noticed the way he swallowed hard before answering. “Yes, of course, sir.” He moved toward me with a carefulness that screamed internal conflict. The way he said “sir” hit me somewhere low and unexpected. Subtle. Too quick to fully analyze. I ignored it—or at least tried to.

Did you run me over, yes or no? James sighed. He needed to get around that situation somehow. -Yes, you entered the middle of the street suddenly and there was no time to stop. -You should be driving too fast not to be able to stop. -No, no, no. I was driving at a proper speed, it was you who crossed without paying attention. -I disagree. And I think the police will agree with me. -We don’t need to involve the police in this. -Comrade, I’ve been fired, I’ve been run over, I’ll have to spend money I don’t have on hospital bills, the only thing I can do is talk to the police.

“I’ve got this.” Chris marched up the porch steps, his entire demeanor shifting into the terrifying attorney he was. Reggie was still pacing, his face red and sweaty. He was waving a crumpled piece of paper around, screaming at the top of his lungs. “You think you can hide behind a piece of paper, you little brat? You think some fancy letterhead scares me?” “I suggest you lower your voice,” Chris warned. His tone wasn’t loud, but it carried an authority that silenced Reggie’s yelling.

“And you know at this point you need to subscribe.” The food was good, but due to her current situation it felt like poison, and she had to push it down her throat with so much effort. “Subscribe? I— I don't understand.” “You know now.” He touched her lap and squeezed it. “Sir, why are you touching my laps?” “Me? Touch your lap? That's not what I'm doing. I'm simply making sure you're fine.” His hands slid up her thigh. She pushed his hand away and sat up. “By touching my leg? Sir, I'm old enough to be your daughter. I —”

“Second, when you answer, I want you to call me ‘Sir’.” My eyes widen. My abdomen flares with heat. My breath becomes shaky. I shift my head, trying to look up at him, but his hand goes back to my hair to keep me in place. “Do you understand?!” He demands. I swallow. Then I awkwardly nod my head as best as I can against the desk. “Yes, what?” “Yes, sir.” I say breathlessly. Why does he suddenly want to be called sir? I have suspicions. Starting with the obvious fact that I said it at the office earlier today.