“The car is there,” Alex had said.
“I’m about to walk outside now,” I’d replied.
“See you soon, beautiful,” he’d said, the charming endearment, warming my cheeks.
I’d ended the call and found my former master staring at me. “You have a date.”
“Yes. I have a date.”
He glances at my neck. “And you took off the ring.”
“Yes,” I’d confirmed. “I took it off.”
He stared at me several beats and then to my disappointment, said simply, “Have a good night, Rebecca.”
It had hurt. It does hurt. He essentially was letting me go. I’d stepped around him and exited to the then quiet San Francisco street, and the driver was holding the rear door of a limo open for me. I’d reached the door, and hesitated before I got into the car. I’d thought about being fair to Alex. If I got into that car, I needed to really be present with him this weekend. I needed to forget the man who’d just let me go, and really, enjoy a man, who called me beautiful and said my name like it was sex and seduction. I had to choose between the Master and the Dream Man.
I’d handed my bag to the man and gotten in the limo, obviously, since I’m writing this from a plane, but I’d felt my ex-master watching as I did. And when the door had shut, it had felt like me letting him go. And so, here I am and the truth is, I’m ready for this. I didn’t think I was, but it’s amazing how one encounter actually did what I didn’t think was possible. Set me free.
Sunday midnight
I don’t even know where to begin. I’m just home from my weekend with Alex and he treated me like a princess. And the thing about being treated like a princess that none of us wants to admit, is that it only matters if you’re being treated like a princess by someone you want to treat you like a princess. If it’s the wrong guy we try to convince ourselves he should be the right guy, but the outcome is the same. No matter how well intended, the princess treatment fails.
Alex did not fail.
From the moment I arrived in the Aspen, he seduced me and not just my body. He listened to me. He made me laugh. I’d landed at the small airport to a private car waiting on me the moment I got out of the plane. A driver had held the door for me. At that moment, I thought I wasn’t going to enjoy myself. It had just felt like all the times my master sent a car to pick me up. But then I’d climbed in the back for the car and found Alex was there waiting. I remember being struck by his dark good looks, a polar opposite of the man I’ve called Master.
His dark good looks were accentuated by his gray suit with a blue pinstripe and a matching navy blue tie. And those brown eyes of his burned with amber heat, the way he looked at me with such piercing intensity had stirred a physical reaction in me. My skin had warmed and my nipples pebbled, an ache forming in my sex. He hadn’t even spoken and I wanted him. At that point, I hadn’t wanted to have that reaction. I didn’t want to crave him or want him. I absolutely didn’t want to feel desire so intense that it became a need. I rejected that possibility despite my body telling me it was possible. Some part of me still felt it betrayed my master. But then I’d flashed back to another limo and another night.
My master had sent me sexy, black heels, and a skimpy black dress with a note that had read: No bra and no panties. It was not a dress I’d wear without a bra and panties. The bodice was fitted, my breast barely concealed. The bottom half sheer in the light. But I would be wearing it for him, not me, or anyone else. I’d dressed, and walked outside to the limo waiting on me, and after the emotional connection we’d shared during sex the night before I’d hoped we were going to his house. I’d feared we’d go to his sex club where he’d put distance between us. It was worse. Master Two, as I’ve come to call him, was there. This man who my master trusts enough to share me. Who he always calls to join us when he feels we’re getting too close.
I’d slipped into the car and they sat side by side in front of me. My master’s eyes had met mine, and I’d seen hardness in them. He’d shut me out and this was all about him showing me that fact. Proving it to him and me. “Show us how to please you,” he’d ordered.
“Show me,” Master Two had commanded. “Move her in front of me.”
My master had given me a slight incline of his head. My lips had firmed and I’d considered saying “no” but this is apart of being submissive. He commands. I obey. I’d scooted in front of Master Two and at his command slid my dress up my legs.
“Show me,” he’d ordered, and I’d then touched myself. And he’d touched me. I didn’t want to like it. I didn’t want to feel pleasure. But I had. And that was the wall my master wanted between us.
Some might think that I am crazy for allowing Master Two to be a part of our play but it’s in the contract. And that contact protects you physically by setting boundaries but it also protects you emotionally by setting boundaries. As it did with my master that night.
I’d blinked back to the present, to Alex sitting in front of me in that limo, and before either of us had even spoken, I’d had that memory create a realization. No matter what my master’s intentions, no matter what his reasons for his actions, he’d created a wall that night and on many other occasions, but each time, he’d cut me just a little deeper. And I’m not sure you ever heal from that many wounds.
That’s why when Alex had finally spoken and said, “I’m glad you’re here, beautiful,” it had hit me, that we are fresh and new, without any walls, without any pain. And this was a premise I found as alluring as the man.
Alex had offered me a glass of champagne then and I’d nervously gulped it down when I have learned never to gulp alcohol. I don’t handle well, so I’ve learned at wine tastings at the gallery, to make a glass last. But I didn’t. I’d been nervous for the first time in a long time. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. Alex had refilled my glass then and when our hands had touched the charge that sparked would have made me weak-kneed had I been standing. He knew. I’d seen it in his eyes. They’d darkened, sharpened. He wanted me and I wanted him.
I’d been certain we’d go to the hotel then and I’d probably do something I might, or might not, regret. And we did go to the fancy five-star property. Only, when we exited the car and he’d turned to me and offered me his arm it was clear he had no intention of taking me to bed.