Chapter 54

Kathleen

Ihaven't been home two minutes before there's a knock at my door. I know who it is. I don't want to answer. Except I have to, because the last thing I need is one of my neighbors seeing Stephanie May out in my hallway, lollygagging about as if she's the queen of the world.

"Aw, what a precious little fluffer-nut!" She kneels in her orange stiletto heels, running her hand over my traitorous kitten Sinéad. I say traitorous because this cat will take affection from anyone, including Stephanie May, the asshole blackmailing me. She's here to get her monthly check. A cool $50,000.

That's right. I'm paying this A-Lister Hollywood starlet $600,000 a year to keep quiet about not only my relationship to Ira, but the fact that I'm now submitting to her on a regular basis. That I like submitting to her. In the realm of the world, nobody would give a fuck that I'm with Ira like that. But I'm a Domme. A Domme with business connections to other Dommes. We can be… sensitive. It's not unusual for Dommes to start switching or become a permanent switch, but such a debut must be done in a tasteful manner, otherwise people get the impression that all Dommes are only waiting for the right (masculine, of course) person to dominate them.

Ahaha. No.

Also, I don't want to hear about how I'm a billionaire and thus can afford paying Stephanie May off. One, it's the principle of the thing. I should not have to do this, although for now I'm going with the cards I'm dealt. Second, do you know how hard it is to drop fifty-grand once a month without being questioned why? My accountant is already asking questions. I told him I was investing in something, which worked the first month, but now he's seeing how shady I'm acting and the questions are peppering my phone. I'm fucked.

Right now, I can't think about that. I can only think about protecting my image and future business prospects with people in the wealthy kink scene.

I shoo my cat into the other room and close the door behind her. I don't want Stephanie lurking around here. She has this sinister perfume that makes me want to throw up. It smells like vinegar and that stuff they put in odorless gas to warn you that you're about to die.

"Here." I hand her a check. Yeah, I'm working old school like that. I figure, hey, maybe she'll lose the check and that will be on her. Not that she has yet. "Now be on your way."

She takes the check and looks at it through big eyes that say nothing about her intelligence. Oh, but she's shrewd. She was shrewd enough to show up here when I was sharing an intimate night with Ira. She's got pictures of me done up like a sub. A fucked sub.

I can't risk it.

And don't tell Ira! She doesn't know. It's bad news, but it is what it is.

"I'm sorry things have to be like this, Kathleen. You seem like a nice lady. I saw all that good work you did for those communities."

I cross my arms and give her a sour look. What is her game? I don't believe for a second that she's complimenting me.

"Why haven't you left yet?"

She cocks her head at me. Ugh, she's a good actress. You know, I liked some of her movies before this whole debacle began. It was one thing when she was caught up between Ira and me. No hard feelings. Then she pulled this shit. Now it's all hard feelings.

"I like to think in another life we could have been friends." Stephanie shrugs, a check dangling from her hand.

I narrow my eyes. "We would have never been friends." What is this, high school? I know Stephanie is barely in her twenties and I'm not that much older, but she's so immature. "For one thing, I try not to be ‘friends' with people who pull this petty shit."

"Petty? You think I'm petty?' That chuckle could choke cats. "Is it petty to be pissed at someone who leads you on with sweet promises and then pulls the embarrassing shit they do?"

Wow, she really doesn't know Ira. That was basically how we met.

"Is it petty to follow greener, richer pastures like their father? Donovan is a sweet man who knows how to spoil a girl if you know what I mean."

I don't want to know what she means.

"Hey, just think, I could maybe be your mother-in-law one day!"

"Don't even joke about that."

"In the meantime, I'll make hay while the sun is shining. Don't know what tomorrow will bring, and these checks you and Donovan cut me will go far in securing a nice nest egg for me. My mama taught me to be a frugal bitch, and that's what I intend to be."

I raise my eyebrow at the designer clothing she's wearing.

"These were gifts."

"Uh-huh."

The cat is clawing at the door I have her trapped behind. Pitiful meows erupt, and I take that as my cue to see Stephanie out. By the time I close the door, all I can think about is why I'm doing this to myself.

Why am I paying off someone as trite as Stephanie May? Because I can't afford her blabbing about my private life with Ira.

Why do I have this private life with Ira? Because I'm falling for her and submitting to her has been so liberating that I don't want to let it go yet. Even the regular, vanilla sex we often have is exactly what I need. Because like I said, I'm falling for the asshole, and I think she's falling for me.

It's a scary thing to think about.

Over in this desk drawer, I have a tiny notebook filled with random thoughts and notes about what I'm doing with my life. Not really a diary. Just scratches and streams of consciousness. One page is dedicated to my relationship with Ira. In one column, I list everything I've changed and compromised about myself, from the little things like spending most of our time at her place, to the big things like submitting.

In another, I list what she's compromised.

There's hardly anything. She's certainly never submitted to me, even though I'm not sure I want her to. Then again, the fact that she's never offered is a point of contention.

Is all this worth it? How much farther can we take this? What will be the tipping point? Will I get tired of paying off Stephanie and waiting for Ira to do more for me? Will this all end because I'm tired of it?

I can't imagine being tired of it. Thinking about separating from Ira at this point leaves a hole filled with panic in my heart. Why would I do that? Why would I kick away the one thing bringing me the most comfort and happiness? When I woke up this morning in her bed, all I could think about was how content I was to roll in her scent, look at her belongings on the bathroom sink, and raid her fridge before taking a shower and showing myself out.

Even her doorman knows my name now.

Our parents want us to be together. How many people can say that?

Maybe I'm overthinking this shit. Maybe it's not so bad to be her girlfriend, her, I dunno, fiancée?

Would Ira Mathison ever ask me to marry her?

On the surface, it sounds wonderful. We'd make a powerful couple, especially if our families were officially joined like that. We clearly feel something good and are independent enough to give each other space without compromising our relationship.

There's just the matter of what I need deep inside.

It's not enough to submit. I need to dominate as well.

I write this down in my journal: "I will never be a sub. I can only hope to become a switch with Ira. Will she do that for me?"

That's an answer I can't bring myself to contemplate.