Chapter 65

Ira

"Over here. No, look over here. Oh, come on…"

Cats. I swear to God.

I got a brand new phone today, and all I want to do is change the background to a picture of Saoirse, who is rolling around on the floor in a patch of sunlight. I'm kneeling on the carpet, aiming my phone camera this way and that in the hopes of catching her in the perfect pose.

It's not happening.

"Mrrrrow." Saoirse keeps rolling away, her tail swishing back and forth. She only looks back when I'm adjusting the settings on my camera.

Good job, Ira. Great way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

It can't be helped. I'm still coming down from a high involving Kathleen Allen that lasted for three whole days. When she left me this morning, collar off and back in my nightstand, I felt like I was floating on the haughtiest cloud imaginable. Her number was the first one I imported to my new phone. Before my mother's.

She said she loved me. Kathleen. Not my mother. Wait, my mother loves me. I mean…

Never mind. You know what I meant.

So let's get back to Kathleen. Sorry, Saoirse, you're a cute cat, and I'm sure people would love giving this non-binary Domme a hard time for having a picture of her cat as her phone background, but let's not forget that Kathleen said she loved me last night. Even though she was acting weird sometimes. I'm not sure she actually felt those nipple clamps, as pretty as they looked hanging down her torso.

I've had women tell me that they love me before. I rarely loved them back. Nothing personal. It's just… until Kathleen, I never found someone I felt worthy of my undying love.

She's everything I want. Beautiful, smart, mouthy with a great sense of humor, good tastes, nice family (who possibly like me), is liked by my family, a real go-getter with her own independence and ability to function without me, and… well, she's turned into a greater sub than I could have ever hoped for.

I know there's a catch somewhere. Until it's sprung on me, however, I'm going to sit here and fantasize about her until I'm not allowed to anymore.

Like my doorbell ringing.

"Next time." I get up, setting my phone on my desk as the cat finally rolls toward me and purrs. I ignore her, like she ignored me for ten minutes.

There's a skip in my step as I go to the door. Someone in love is dangerous. They don't see the bits of debris strewn across the floor and tend to trip over them if they're not careful. And they're not. Hence, I only see a glimpse of blond out my peephole, and automatically assume it's my darling buttercup.

Yes, go ahead and kill me. Oh, God, oh God please kill me. Before Eve Warner does.

"What a lucky day for me! Finding the culprit cozy at home with their…" Eve glances from me to somewhere behind me. "Their pussy, apparently."

Saoirse meows emphatically before stalking off to her bed in the library.

"What do you want?"

I know she's not here for business. And she sure as hell isn't here to shoot the breeze, because we are far from friends. Nevertheless, I have no choice but to invite her into my home, where she saunters around like she owns the damned place.

Naturally, she steps toward the kitchen, perching on one of the stools by the counter.

"Consider me here on a fact-finding mission, Mathison." She sounds like a reporter. A reporter that nobody takes seriously, which isn't difficult to imagine, since her spiky blond hair clashes with her dark gray pantsuit. "Because there are a lot of facts I would like from you."

I stand before her, hands in my pockets. I can hear my mother admonishing me for my bad manners in the back of my mind… because what I need is for my mother to show up and make this situation even worse.

"What is it that you want to know, Ms. Warner?" I'm nowhere near as playful.

"Oh, well, I'm sure you can guess that this has to do with my good friend Kathleen, whom you are not only fucking, but dominating as well!"

My hands pull from my pockets so my arms can cross. "She's been talking to you, huh?"

"She only told me about the fucking a few weeks ago. I've deduced the latter, although she won't confirm it. In fact, she won't return most of my messages, so I can only assume that things are ugly. Am I right? Do let me know how angry I should be with you."

I don't know how she manages to not say, "And you wouldn't like me when I'm angry." At any rate, I can only meet her rueful gaze with a small smile.

"I shouldn't be kissing and telling. If she's not telling you, her good friend, something… then perhaps it isn't any of your business."

Of course, this isn't going to fly with her. Eve is the type of woman who wants to be obeyed yesterday. On the Midnight grapevine, both from friends and subs I've hooked up with, Eve has a lot of fun taunting people and dragging them on silly sexual adventures. Why would her bantering with me be any different?

Although this bantering could quickly turn ugly. She's also the type of woman to protect her friend if, for some reason, she thought there was a problem.

Eve Warner is the type of woman to always think there is a problem.

"She's not telling me because she's a proud woman who doesn't want to admit she's submitting to the likes of you."

Well, we went straight to my jugular.

"I could understand her not wanting to admit that she's submitting, but what the fuck is wrong with me?"

"Come off it, Mathison." Eve slips off the stool, lording her height over me. Sheesh, these Warners are ridiculous. Are their parents giants? "Everyone knows that you're the type of Domme who flits from girl to girl looking for their kicks for the night, but rarely comes back for seconds. I've heard quite a few heartbroken girls rage about you at the club."

"Before fucking them yourself, of course."

"Not always. You ever hear of sexual preference? My greatest enemy."

"I'm sure it is."

"Look, Mathison, I'm sure you're a decent person. I'm sure you give a girl a good time."

Where is this going…?

"But you walked into a new playground when you set your sights on Kathleen. I don't know what you're doing to her, but it's making her skittish and the most insecure I've ever seen her. I shouldn't approach you two in a restaurant and watch her cower. She won't tell me anything about you. I'll have you know that Kathleen used to be one of the most formidable women I knew. What the fuck have you done to my friend?"

She's speaking softly, but I feel her threats vibrating in my veins… not that I show I'm feeling that. Not good to show weakness in front of Eve. Or any Warner, for that matter.

"I've done nothing she didn't ask for."

"Oh, Ira." Her sigh is melodramatic, like the roll of her eyes and the swish of her hair. "You're dominating a Domme. You're forgetting that."

"I'm not forgetting that." I'm reminded every other day.

"Yes, you are. On the surface, you know that Kathleen likes taking people for trips to Dominationville, but I've never gotten the feeling that she's a switch. She's been eating and drinking her role for years. You can't suddenly dominate her and not expect something to be going on…"

"Why are you talking to me about this? Shouldn't you be talking to her?" My patience is wearing thin. If Eve doesn't cut to the chase and leave on her own soon, I might have to throw her out. I'm not in the mood to play her games. Especially after waking up feeling like a fucking King in my bed.

Eve tsks. "I would, if she would return my messages. So I'm coming to you before I go storm down her door. I figure, if something's bothering her to the point she can't tell me about it, something smells like you."

Before I can erupt like a freakin' child, I clear my throat and take a deep breath. My fingers grip my arms, madly. "I have no intention of hurting Kathleen. In fact…" I'm probably going to regret this. "We're in love."

A home is supposed to be an escapist's paradise. No awkward silences allowed. Yet here Eve and I are, staring each other down as she narrows her brows and acts as if she smells something foul.

She plucks a knife out of its holder, eyes it, looks at me and slams the knife back where it belongs. Yeah, I get the point. Way to be a stereotype though, Eve.

"Do you love her? Because she hasn't said fuckall about loving you."

I keep my balance steady. My voice… well, it has its issues. "I do. And she's told me that she loves me. We're working it out from there."

Eve looks away, studying my flooring before glancing back at me. She no longer looks angry. She doesn't even look concerned.

She looks… sad.

"Fuck her all you want, Mathison." She steps away, staring at me over her shoulder. "Just don't fuck with her. Don't lead her on. Don't tell her that you love her unless you really, truly mean it. Don't. Don't change who she is, don't make her change at all, unless you're absolutely, really, 100% sure that you want her for more than your tickled fancy lasts."

My front door opens. The cat pokes her head out of the library.

"I don't want to pick up the pieces of a broken woman who doesn't know who she is anymore. Treat her well, or I'll have to treat you quite unwell. By the way… thanks for the dress."

She leaves. Her caution stays behind.