Chapter 52

Kathleen

Never thought it was possible for a bathroom to be more comfortable than mine, but here I am, sitting and contemplating the nice décor and the sheer amount of comfort one person can pack into a private abode.

Hard to believe that the first time I was in here it was to scream and cry and get sprayed right on the crotch in the shower.

Speaking of crotches and hoses, my tights are totally ruined. Thanks, Ira.

The toilet barely makes a sound when I flush it. Damnit, I'm rich as fuck, and even my toilet makes noises. I need to find out who did all the plumbing in here and get them in my apartment. The building manager will totally understand.

When I finish cleaning up, I wander into the bedroom, hoping I can convince Ira to take my exquisite aftercare to the tub. Except I don't see her in here. In fact, the bedroom door is closed, something that only happens when she's about to go to sleep, if at all – she's someone who likes to let the cat in and out as it pleases.

I'm in such a reverie that my senses are dulled and I'm unable to hear the voices out in the main living area of the condo. So imagine my surprise when I fling open the bedroom door and march out in my disheveled T-shirt with my nipples poking up and my tights torn at my crotch. Oh, and my "teenage Katie" hair that I put up to complete my fashionably retro look tonight. Imagine my surprise, indeed, when I walk out in the living area looking like this and run right smack dab into one of the last people I ever want to see.

"You've got bigger balls than me," Ira says to Stephanie, who is leaning against her kitchen counter as if they're that close. "Coming into my home after what you've done?"

"I've done nothing except what's good for my career." Her sweetness is so fake. "Face it, your father has more money than you. Not to mention his connections with some producers in Hollywood. If I'm going to keep being the new golden girl, then I need those connections. Although…" She bats those thick eyelashes as if she's looking for something. "You have the bigger… talent. And know how to use it better."

Ira makes a face. You know, the kind you make when you walk in on your parents naked and having sex. Disgusted, grossed out, get me out of here. If Stephanie weren't blocking the counter, Ira would probably get out the bleach and scrub her brain.

"What the hell do you want with me?"

Stephanie steps away from the counter and approaches with a sway of her hips. "You know what I want, Ira."

Ira looks at me. Stephanie looks over her shoulder at me, chuckling.

"I don't care about your pretty and rich girlfriend. We've all got our…" She's snorting, and I know it's because of how I'm dressed. Don't get me wrong, I'm not super excited about her seeing me like this, but it's Stephanie. I don't give a shit she's looking right at my waxed pussy as displayed through my ripped tights. "Well, we've all got our fetishes. Besides, wouldn't it be hypocritical of me to want something exclusive? I don't intend on dumping your father soon."

If I had to choose one attractive thing about Ira Mathison, it would be her ability to stay calm through any situation. She may show a blip of shock or concern, but otherwise, she's the kind of person you want to have around when shit goes down. Like a woman you only dated twice stalking you.

"You've got three minutes to tell me exactly what it is you want before I escort you out of here," Ira says. "Somehow I doubt you came here to flirt and nothing more."

"Hmph." Stephanie shrugs. "I want a lot of things. I want an Academy Award. I want to make as much as Chris Pratt on my next film. I want to be Maxim's hottest woman of the year. I want…" She looks at me, but not in a lascivious way – thank God. "I want security."

"If you're looking to blackmail us, then you're way out of your league," Ira says. "Besides, I'm not sure what you would blackmail us over."

"Blackmail? Hardly. More like ensuring that we're both taken care of. I get some funds to help my acting addiction, and you get to keep your secret perversions out of the press."

"What are you talking about?" Careful, Stephanie, Ira might bite. "Nobody cares what the hell I do in my private time."

"No, perhaps they don't care about you." When Stephanie looks at me, I'm almost convinced she's going to punch between my ribs and rip out my heart. "They might want to know about her, though."

I grit my teeth.

Once again, I am taken back to my scene with Ira, where she made me confess my worries and insecurities. This would be another one… having the whole world know about my love for kink. Not solely domination. If word got out in our broader social circles that I was now subbing? Never. I would never be taken seriously again. By anyone.

Kinky people would understand better than the non-kinksters, but the few other Dommes I know would consider me with trepidation. Probably. If I am to eventually debut as a switch in my relationship with Ira, then it has to be done tastefully. Having someone like Stephanie leak it to the local press? I would rather die.

I hear a click. Stephanie puts her phone away. I realize what she's done.

Taken a picture of me. Like this.

"None of this is necessary." Ira steps between her and me, as if she could block what everyone sees in that picture. "Neither Kathleen nor I have anything to hide. You need to leave."

Stephanie trudges to the door, taking a long, hard look at me with a smirk to rival one of Ira's. It's as if she's saying, "You know what you have to lose. We understand."

Yeah, I understand.

Stephanie leaves, with her evidence of me in a compromising position. Ira acts as if it's nothing when she tries to plant a kiss on my cheek.

I step back.

"Katie, don't listen to her." She follows me into the bedroom, sidestepping the cat who has decided to come out and roll around our feet. "She's clearly a mess. Even if people believed her, so what? It's not worth paying her off."

"Especially since she's dating your dad now, right?"

She closes the bedroom door behind her. "That's not the point. Well, I mean, that's a problem, but I doubt it's going to last for long. Not after I tell him what she's done here."

"Oh my God, Ira …" What? Tell her father what we're up to in the bedroom and why that's something someone would find blackmail worthy? I don't think so! "You don't get it. I could lose… I don't know how much. If I turn up on Page 6 with all my kinks listed, nobody would work with me again!"

She puts her hands on my shoulders and looks me right in the eye. I wish I could say I feel safe here, but… "Nobody's going to find out. Even if they did? I would make their lives a living hell. It's the least I could do."

"I don't know what you did to that woman, but I wish you hadn't."

She steps back. "What makes you think I did something?"

"Maybe. I dunno. I mean…" How can I make Ira understand where I'm coming from? Inside me is a battle between kissing her and pushing her away. I don't doubt her sincerity, but I do judge her ability to understand me. "It seems like the deeper we go into this relationship, the more I have to compromise my identity."

Waiting, I expect her to say something along the lines of, "You never have to do that." Instead, what I get is, "I love you."

This is it. The moment Ira Mathison confesses her feelings to me… I can't bring myself to accept them. As nice as it is to hear those words, they aren't what I need to hear.

I need to hear her say that everything will be okay. That we'll be okay.

As long as this relationship continues, I will push my boundaries and take risks that I never anticipated before. What has she done? What compromise is she making for me? So far, all I've done is change every fucking part of who I am.

A relationship like this can't be sustained. I can't keep falling down this rabbit hole and not expect to explode.

Now she says she loves me? She wants to kiss me and lure me back to bed as if nothing happened? Has happened?

What have I gotten myself into?

I need to find Stephanie. I need to set this straight and… pay her, if I have to. Not like I don't have the money.

I also need to find a backbone. Because Ira has me in her bed, lips on mine and my hands pulling her out of her clothes. "I love you," she says once more, before pinning me to her bed and kissing me. She waits for me to reply, but I can't.

I'm frozen to reality. The reality she tried to help me escape from.

A reality where I'm broken with no way to be fixed. Only cracked further until the Kathleen Allen I knew is no more. What was once a liberating thought is simply terrifying, and I don't know what to do.

I can't fight this anymore.