Chapter 31
Kathleen
We're supposed to be talking, but there's hardly any time between being seated and half the staff trying to serve us breadsticks and water. While on the one hand, I'm grateful I'm given time to breathe and collect my thoughts, the other hand says to get this over with.
I'm also embarrassed that I blurted out that question in the middle of the street like that. Excuse me! That man totally threw me off. What was I supposed to say?
He thought Ira and I were a couple. Did we look that comfortable with each other? Although she and I are… yeah… I don't know if I would say I'm super comfortable around her yet. Partly because of this weird mind-fucking shit going on.
"Tuscan salad, please." I hand the waiter the menu I barely perused. "Italian dressing."
I don't hear what Ira orders besides a glass of wine for herself. "You want anything?" she asks. "The red here is great."
Wine? Yes. Yes, please. I'll need it. At least we're in public, where I won't get relaxed enough to suggest she collar and take me like a Domme right here on the table.
Ugh. Fuck me. She looks so good today. A little flustered, but so damn in control and oblivious to the problems of the world. Ira Mathison only cares about her work right now. The woman's in some of the best-looking jeans I've seen on a woman. In case that's too casual, though, she's in a smart blue shirt and a designer business jacket on top. Her hair looks recently cut, combed just right over her eyes and ears. Sort of a rugged bad girl look but easily tamed without much difference.
I want her to kiss me. I want to kiss her.
Except I don't know where we stand. When I so foolishly went to her and asked her to… God, what even was it? What was I thinking? Why haven't I called her to cancel? This is what we're here about, isn't it?
We sit in silence until the wine and water are delivered. It'll be another few minutes before we get our lunches. I wish this was a regular business lunch, with our assistants and maybe a few others present. Then we could be around each other but without the bullshit. At the moment I don't feel super great being alone with her.
"How is it?" She motions to my wineglass.
I hurry to sample a taste. It's a bit bitter, but also sweet, twisting on my tongue until my nerves settle themselves. "It's nice."
My eyes remain averted. Ira tilts her head until her eyes meet mine. "Something bothering you?"
Yes, Ira. Something is bothering me. Namely, this is the first time we've been alone like this since I was last in your apartment. Remember what happened there? I insinuated that I wanted more of your attention. Foolishly. Then I got all bothered when you pushed me against your wall and grinded your crotch against my ass. We may have been wearing clothes, but fuck me, that was hot.
"I'm fine." I drink more wine. "Really."
She keeps to her side of the table, and I keep to mine. In the distance is faint piano music and the rabble of people conversing over lunch. There's no one else in our section.
"Hopefully the demolition team will get their act together soon." Ira looks at her phone as if I'm not worthy of her attention. "My father and I aren't in the business of cleaning up their mess. Not on our dollar, anyway."
For some reason, she keeps going on about work. I don't know if she thinks I'm interested, but really, I'm not. I know why she's brought me here alone. "We need to talk." Yes. Yes, we do.
"Cut the bullshit." Ira regards me with mild amusement. What a cocky, arrogant… stupidly hot louse. "Let's get down to business. Real business. Between you and me."
Sometimes I surprise Ira with my personality. Sure, I've been acting like a submissive little tart around her. I don't know why. Something about her is bringing it out of me. I don't like it, but here we are. Deep down, I'm an assertive bitch who doesn't like dealing with people's shit. I'd rather dish it out.
Ira goes from mild shock to nearly laughing at the table. "If you insist." She raises her wineglass to me before polishing off half the contents. "Let's have a date Friday after work."
"A date?'
The server chooses that moment to arrive with our meals. Salad for me, and baked chicken with stir-fry vegetables for Ira. When she catches me eyeballing that delicious-smelling food, she carves off a piece and plops it into my salad. I say nothing. Just stare at what she's done, as if we're that intimate.
"What's wrong? Vegetarian now?" Her droll voice is going to get her kicked in the shin.
"Go back to the date thing. What do you mean by that?"
She leans forward, that look in her eye so telling that my thighs tremble. "I mean a date, Kathleen. Don't know if you realized it, but we have yet to go on a proper date."
"I know that." It's something I've thought about sometimes. We were supposed to go on a date a couple of weeks ago… but I stood her up like a total bitch. Only because I thought she was going to try to dominate me… and I wasn't ready.
I'm still not. Not at this second, anyway.
"So let's do it. Let's go on a real date."
"What's this?"
"I'm not sure I would consider this a date."
"No, guess not." We're only having lunch because of work. "What are we doing on this date, exactly? I want to know before I say yes."
She's rolling her eyes at me for the second time today. It drives me nuts like she's being condescending without saying a damned word. "I'm not going to spank you, Katie," she mutters. "A vanilla date."
Haha. A vanilla date.
"I was thinking dinner. Maybe a show if something is interesting to see. My family has year-round box passes at the cinema near my place. Father's a bit of a movie buff. We go there a couple of times a month for him to go on about Marlon Brando and Clint Eastwood."
I don't say anything.
"Digress. After that?" Before I've picked up my fork, Ira's hand is on mine, here, on this table. Fuck all the tingles rushing through my body. Fuck the fact she does it to me. "We'll see where the wind takes us. Not everything has to be perfectly planned."
"I'm sure sex is on this wind."
"Only if you're truly interested." Ira shrugs. "Like I said, nothing kinky." Her hand continues to curl around mine. "Sometimes a woman wants things simple."
I hear it in her voice. That same tone she always has when she's about five minutes away from thrusting anything and everything into me. I shiver. Can she feel it in my hand? That's the same voice she had when she first seduced me. (Or did she seduce me? I thought it was fairly equal at the time. Now? I have no idea.) Same voice from the day of our presentations, when she led me to an empty room and gave me the time of my life.
Same voice she left me with a week and a half ago, when she promised to completely dismantle my Domme brain and rebuild it into a sub's.
I shiver again, harder.
"You all right?"
Ira is a good Domme in that she always checks in with the current mental state of her partner. Even when we're not being kinky, she's always asking if I'm doing okay. I should appreciate it. Except when she does it, I'm always reminded of the fact that I might not be okay. Then I get trapped in this spiral of wondering if I'm doing the right thing.
Don't make me think too hard, Ira.
"I'm fine." I try to say it with an even voice, but sometimes it's hard. Around her, anyway. I have to take my hand back, pick up my fork, and spearing chicken and lettuce. Something to do. That isn't her. "Just picking apart your motives in my brain."
She gives me a look. You know the kind. Judgmental. Uncertain. Insecure. "Motives?"
"Please. I'm not dumb." Basil mashes between my teeth. Now that I have food in my system, I'm able to think clearly. My senses return, and nothing Ira Mathison does can shake me off my foundation. "You're looking at me like I'm a piece of meat. I get it, honey, you wanna fuck me. That's fine. That can be quite…" I look right at her crotch. She is not accompanied today. "Mutual."
This time, she's the one not answering.
"You're not only looking at me as a potential date. You're not even looking at me as a potential partner of any kind. All you see is a project."
Ira clears her throat, her food still untouched, but her wine almost gone. "What am I supposed to think? You didn't ask me for a relationship. You didn't ask me for a casual thing. You asked me to…" She leans forward, voice low and commanding. Nope. Not getting through to me. "You asked me to bring out your inner submissive. That's not the things I mentioned."
"It sure isn't." Hey, this chicken's pretty good, especially with the Italian dressing. I'm glad she gave me some, but she better eat hers before it gets cold. Salmonella wouldn't look good on her.
"What do you want from me? That's what I want to know." Finally, Ira starts eating. With purpose, I might add. "You keep coming to me, asking me to do things so far out of your comfort zone that you end up screaming and crying. Asking me to go farther with you? You're asking a lot of me. Excuse me, Katie, but I need to see you in different ways. It's how something like this can work."
"Something like this?"
"Business and pleasure," she hisses. "Mingling."
She's right. I'm asking her to see so many sides of myself – the business side, the Domme side, the sub side – that she has to separate it all before she can put me back together again. It can't be easy on her, mentally. Physically, she probably spends her whole time thinking about fucking me.
…I'm right, aren't I?
"So what do you want, Katie?" She always calls me that when we're in private like this. I haven't decided if I like it or not. When we're screwing, I love it. So intimate and exclusive. When we're in a non-sexual situation? It kinda grates on me. Kathleen has a much more sophisticated ring to it, especially coming out of her mouth.
"I want a lot of things, Ira." There are no cute nicknames for her. Her name is already as short as it can get. "Right now, I want you to back off a bit."
She sits back in her seat, both physically and emotionally detaching herself from me. Finally, I can breathe.
After two more bites of food, I say, "All right. Date. Vanilla date. No funny kink stuff."
"Well, now I'm not sure I want to…"
While she's looking at me, I pull open my blouse. Easy to do with light clasps sewn in. Once I've got her staring at my breasts and bra, I say, "Pretty sure you want to."
Her eyes furrow but look! She's not glancing away from these tits! "Just when I think I've got you figured out…"
I close my blouse and put it back together. "I surprise you. Yes, yes, you're not used to that from the women you're dating."
"Now, don't be that way."
I've irritated her. Good. The last thing I want is for her to get complacent around me. Nevertheless, next thing I know, she's slapped a notebook on the table and flipped it open.
"What's that?"
Ira slides the notebook across the table. I pick it up, holding it at the appropriate distance before my eyes focus on her tight, clean cursive handwriting. I'm struck by how feminine her penmanship is. Elegant, refined, legible, but very straight and narrow. Not a single stroke from the pen is wasted. Well, shit. Here I am, turned on by Ira Mathison's handwriting.
"A to-do list. For you."
So it says. At the top of the page Ira has written "K" for my name, I'm guessing. Below is a list written in shorthand. I barely make out "doesn't let go easy" and "fights for control." The other stuff is… pretty sexual.
Doesn't like things getting "messy." Talks back when we're doing it. Says titles sarcastically. Owns an Avalon Lite – Investigate.
"Did I miss anything?"
Scoffing, I take a pen out of my purse and scratch something down in my curlier handwriting. "Thinks I'm a jerk."
"Mature."
"You're mature." I don't realize what I said until it's too late. By then, Ira is laughing, her ridiculous face looking beyond stupid as she makes fun of me.
By the time we're finished with lunch, I don't feel any better. We've set up a date for Friday after work, and I know it won't be kinky, but I can't help but feel she has an ulterior motive. Especially after showing me the notes she's keeping.
I can't think about it, though. Currently, I have to be regular ol' Kathleen, the one who knows it's probably going to end in the hot sex I crave with her. Hot, non-domineering sex. Just her, me, and the creaking of her bed as we succumb to pleasure.
Now I'm turned on. When I catch a glance from her at the busy intersection, she smirks, and I can practically see the scenarios playing through her head.
Not today, honey. Save it for Friday.