Chapter 74

Ira

I'm tipsy as hell in Midnight, one day after Kathleen's spine-chilling ultimatum.

"Tipsy" is an important designation because it's dangerous to be drunk, as much as I want to be. Trust me. I want to down a few hard drinks and be an ass to anyone who crosses my path. I've got a chip on my shoulder and no way to safely get rid of it.

"Another round for my friend here," Jem says, motioning to my empty glass. "She's having women's troubles. It's only right we get her drunk."

Yes. Women troubles. That's what I told Jem when she agreed to meet me here tonight. Women troubles.

Troubles with Kathleen, the Domme who won't let me take her unless she takes me first.

All around us are dominants and their gorgeous subs. Some women are rail thin, others are what we would politely call curvy or a big, beautiful woman. They're all glowing. Whether they wear leather, lingerie, or cute cocktail dresses, they only have hungry eyes for their dominants, the lucky ones so in love with them.

They kiss. They slap ass. They curl up together in chairs and on couches. Some whisper naughty things into each other's ears and slink off to private rooms for fun and games. Others spoil the rest of us with free shows, including but not limited to fingering, licking, and humping in front of God and all Her sinful folk.

"So, tell me what's happening with this lady friend of yours," Jem says, slapping a card on the table between us. We're playing a rousing game of War. Not much else to do with only two people. "I didn't even know you were seriously seeing somebody."

I produce a two while she beats me with a four. Doesn't make me feel like the boss of the room. "It was a secret. This woman isn't someone big on being seen with me like that."

Jem looks up at me. "Would this hot lady happen to be named Kathleen Allen?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Only a little. Gwenyth and I suspected as much. Plus, last time we were here, I heard the Anderssens murmuring about you two. Wasn't sure how true it was."

I sigh, beating her ten with a Jack.

"So… how does that work out between you two?"

"You mean me dating another Domme?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Do you really want to know?"

What a cheeky ass grin. Is this how I look to Kathleen half the time?

Nevertheless, I mumble a detail or two about my relationship with Kathleen. I leave out a lot of particulars but leave in how she was submitting to me until it got to her.

Even above the pulsing rhythm of the club music, I hear Jem whistle nice and high. "Some would say you are living the dream. Know how many wish they could pin down a Domme and make us beg for a change?"

I wince. "Imagine how many think the same thing about us."

"Hey, I don't doubt it. Everything is a power play in love and war. Especially kink."

We both put down a five and draw more cards. I win the pot with a seven to her three. "You ever done it before? Submit?"

A card falls out of Jem's hand. "No, I have not. Never even thought about it. Although…" The card, a four, twists back and forth in her hand. "I told you about Austin, right?"

I laugh. "One too many drinks and a man named Stone." Jem didn't tell me about her straight experimentation until we knew each other a good five years or so. Then she only told me when she was so plastered she didn't know what was coming out of her mouth.

"Anyway, that guy was definitely a Dom. And yours truly was so high on life that she was going to do whatever he wanted. Use your imagination from there."

"Oh, I have."

"It wasn't bad. The submitting, that is. That was to a man, you know? Shit, doing that with a woman is totally different. I would only consider that if…" She stops, shaking her head.

"No, what?"

"Well… if I were in love with her. And since I have Gwenny, I doubt that will happen."

I release my last card. A King. The only way Jem could beat me is if she has an Ace.

Instead, she has another four.

As we count up our cards to see who is buying the next round of drinks, I think about what she said. Am I the same way? Would I submit for love?

How much do I love Katie, exactly?

Put the kink aside. Think of us as we are in normal, everyday life. Yeah, we still have abrasive, dominant personalities that will clash. We would probably need to keep separate residences for time-outs, but is it so hard to believe that we could essentially live together? Make love? Do business? No, it's not. Some concessions would have to be made, such as who is making decisions for a day, but at the end of it, a glass of wine and a kiss on those heavenly lips would be enough to placate me. Maybe a bath, too.

Now put the kink back in.

I want Kathleen, both as she is to the world and as she is to me. I don't want to make her submit every day. Maybe once a week… every two weeks. Once a month. However often she is comfortable with it. I'm a busy person who definitely gets their rocks off to a woman submitting to them, but for love, I could go without sometimes if Kathleen wasn't in the mood. I'm sure I'd still be getting laid. Very well.

Kathleen isn't going to be happy with that, however. I can't blame her. I'd be miserable the other way around.

I tell Jem my desire to debut Katie as my sub. She looks at me wide-eyed as if I told her that the Princess of Wales had called me up asking me for domination services.

"Yeah, right."

"She's worried about her image."

"No shit!"

I put my head in my hands. "Is it really impossible for two assholes like us to be together? Happily?"

"Look at the Anderssens. They're both assholes."

"I don't want to become Kennedy Anderssen."

"I dunno, she's got that hot wife Lara. I bet she gives and takes good. I mean, I know for a fact. I've seen them on that stage."

The empty stage is enticing tonight. Mostly because I think about dragging Katie up there and making a show out of her. I've never performed before. Least of all here, in front of friends and business acquaintances. It's not unheard of, for sure. Jem has done it, the Anderssens do it all the time, and let's not forget the Warners who are regulars on a stage these days. This is very much a place where business and pleasure mingle, and then are completely separated. Unless you act so uncouth that you make legitimate enemies, nobody is going to care.

If you care, you shouldn't be here.

Jem and I have our last round of drinks in silence. I'm contemplating the world and my place in it. Not just existentially. I'm focusing on my relationship with Kathleen. How much do I want her? Just how much? I've pushed her boundaries as far as I have because it turned me on and made me feel like a stronger person. Watching her transform from a wary woman to a glorious submissive has been one of the most enchanting experiences of my life.

In turn, I've barely compromised a thing. No wonder she's irate.

I thank Jem for the drinks and pick up my coat from the checkroom. The hostess hails a taxi for me, and it's waiting by the time I appear on the curb. I tell the driver my condo building and sit in the back, sinking into the seat and wondering what drinks I can make at home.

It's gonna be one of those nights.

Drinks. Let's be real, probably fantasizing. My hand under the covers. It's gonna be a wild night of me drowning my thoughts and fantasizing about Kathleen. God help me.

I see her before me, getting ready to kiss me, touch me, and love me until I can't physically love anymore. Fuck me hard. Fuck my attraction to her. Fuck my needs.

Fuck her.

"Do you want me, Ira?" That's what she would say as she sidles up next to me and starts nibbling on my ear. "Do you want me to take you to the edge and back?"

Yes.

Kathleen submitting to me is about her letting go of control and being reassured that she does have a place in the world, that she does have the ability to transcend what she's facing and make a name for herself. If I submit to her… what is it about?

Do I want to know?

I lean forward and tap the driver on the shoulder. Once I have his attention, I give him the address to Kathleen's place. It requires whipping a U-turn right in the middle of the busy city road, but he does it expertly, ensuring a nice tip from me.

The same doorman from before waits for me. When I approach his desk, he says, "Sorry, but Ms. Allen is still requiring everyone to be buzzed up first."

"That's fine. She's not expecting me anyway." I put both hands on the desk, not trying to lord myself over this smaller man, but definitely making my presence known. "However, do tell her that it's Ira Mathison. She knows why I'm here."

"Certainly." The doorman gets on the phone. I can't hear what he's saying over the traffic outside and the rabble of other residents and their visitors in this lobby.

Just as well. If I'm denied entry, I don't want to hear his side of the conversation.

"Ms. Allen has requested your immediate presence. You may go up."

The elevator opens. Here we go.

This time I know to expect a presentation when I arrive. What I don't expect is the brand of Kathleen Allen I encounter.

She's been lazing about her apartment all day. That much is evident from what she's wearing: pink, baggy T-shirt that outlines her braless breasts and black cotton shorts showing off the shape of her ass. Her arms are crossed. Her hair is a sloppy bun on top of her head. No makeup. No jewelry. It's Kathleen at her most casual.

She's intimidating as fuck.

Her demeanor is what does it. Her stature. Standing tall and firm, Kathleen isn't going to back down to anything I do or say tonight. I am in her domain. I am but a pawn to her Queen.

My mother taught me well, after all.

"How nice of you to stop by, Ira." Although her voice is soft, there's still a harsh, belittling edge. I do not doubt that many people would quake to have it directed at them.

I may be one of those people.

"Kathleen." I'm not going to show weakness.

She's fighting back a smile. "To what do I owe this pleasure? Because I am sure that this is a pleasure call."

Deep within the Domme's domain, I find myself battling being snarky to save face or deferring to whatever she wants to do or say. If only it were so easy to pick one. I'm a Domme. I'm supposed to be able to make these decisions on the fly and be wholly confident in them. Besides, that's what Kathleen expects, regardless of her plans for me.

I wouldn't want to disappoint her, now would I?

"My offer still stands, Kathleen. I want to do right by you, but I also have things that I want. I want you. That is without a doubt." I square my shoulders to match her stature. "Whatever you want, and in return, whatever I want."

"Hmm. A noble offer, but I have yet to get the feeling you really want what I offer."

I take off my coat and toss it over a chair. "What do you offer, my darling?"

"You know what I offer."

"Not really." I approach her, slowly, as if I'm getting ready to tear a thorn out of her paw. No, I don't think she's wounded. Especially for feeling the way she does. Damn if I'm not being cautious, though. "I know you offer domination, but I have no idea what kind. What are you into, Kathleen? Humiliating heirs? Stripping them of their privileges and making them beg for shame?" My tie comes next, sliding off my neck and landing on my coat. The buttons of my shirt struggle against my fingers. "Or do you want them to lick your boots?"

She looks at her bare feet. "I'm not wearing any boots."

"Fine. Kiss your toes."

Her grin is infectious, but I don't replicate it. That sounds dangerous. "What do you want from a Domme, Ira? Or have you even thought about it? You can't come in here and assume I tap your ass a few times, rub your clit until you can't come anymore, and call you a whore. What I do isn't devoid of humanity any more than yours is."

"I know." Unbuttoned, my shirt opens to show her my physical vulnerability.

She steps forward, arms still crossed, chin still pointed up. "Do you love me, Ira?"

An earnest question.

"I mean… truly, madly in love with me?"

I brave touching her arms. She doesn't shrug me off. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

For all my misgivings, my apprehensions, and my inability to process what may happen tonight, my heart is incredibly still in my chest. It's not afraid. If my heart and my body aren't afraid of what Katie will do to me, then why should my head be?

This Kathleen has been with me all this time. Lurking. Waiting. But there.

If I can't trust her, then I can't trust anyone.

"I'm not doing anything unless you want it. What it is you want… that's up to you."

"That's easy." I don't need her to tell me to take off my shirt. I can see it in her icy blue glare. You know, the same one keeping my cunt prime in my pants. "I want to feel so in love with you that nothing else in the world matters."

The moment my shirt hits the chair, I'm sinking to my knees, eyes up and meeting hers. Kathleen takes an unexpected step back.

I take her hand. My finger entwines the one next to her pinky, the one rumored to have a path directly to the heart. "I'd ask you to marry me, Kathleen Allen, but I know I can do one better. I want to entrust you with my body, my soul, and my heart. Just as you have given me yours time and again. It's only fair."

She opens her mouth. I interrupt her.

"And I want it. I want to show you how much I love you. I want to worship you."

Her eyes narrow. Is she happy? Is she disappointed? It's hard to tell from down here.

"Since you can't possibly buy me a ring that impresses me, I suppose this will do." Kathleen puts her hand on top of my head, petting me like a loyal dog. "Get up. I'm making love to you, not turning you into my pet."

Did you hear that?

I'm getting what I want.