Perfect on Paper

by Destiny Moon

  “David?”

  “Nadine.” He offered her a handshake.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Well—” He cleared his throat. “If you’re here to lease the shop, then I should probably introduce myself as your new landlord.”

  Nadine folded her hands across her chest.

  “Can I talk to you?” Her voice was stern.

  “Sure,” David said. He stood still, waiting for her to begin talking.

  “Outside.”

  “Okay.” He followed her out onto the sidewalk where the air was chilly. He examined her face. She looked vexed. “Is something the matter?”

  “Yeah,” she scoffed. “You lied.”

  “What? No. Never.”

  “You did. At the very least, you misrepresented. All your talk of philosophy and living on the beach. What the hell was all that? You own buildings?”

  “Building. Singular.”

  “But how? Why?”

  “I told you I’d made some investments. I told you I designed that little app that made a few bucks.”

  “I thought that you meant it literally.”

  “That’s the operative part of your statement—you thought.” He remained cool and collected. “My parents also left some insurance money.”

  “But you slept in your car for a year. You have roommates.”

  “So? I’m a minimalist.”

  “Then what’s with the suit?”

  “It’s the only one I own. A man’s gotta have one suit. Even Thoreau thinks so.”

  She shook her head in disbelief. Boy did she not enjoy being wrong about people. But she had to admit it. He hadn’t lied. She had filled in the details of what he’d said with false information based on her own prejudices.

  “Well, look. I don’t know what to make of this. I was so sure that I’d be signing the dotted line today, but now I have to think about it.”

  “Why? It’s your dream.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t know you’d be a part of it.”

  She turned on her heels and walked away.

  * * * *

  When she had finished her work on Wednesday afternoon, Nadine went to the washroom and changed into her running gear. When she came back into the Shipping and Receiving area, she was wearing her track pants and a zippered tight-fitting running top. Everything matched. It was all white. She even had a matching white headband that went around her ears to protect her from the cooler temperatures.

  Duchess was excited by the change of clothes. Nadine put all of her usual business attire into her backpack, pulled it over her shoulder and locked the door to her department. It was foggy out and there was that faint fall glow of white in the air.

  With Duchess at her side, she started off through the campus, slowly at first. It was a thirty-minute run home and she was looking forward to cutting through the park where the leaves were falling, as the sun was beginning to make its descent. The shadows this time of year were magical and ethereal. Besides, she needed to work off some of the angst that had built inside her since everything had gotten even more messy and confusing.

  In the park, Duchess took off for the first time ever. This was so uncharacteristic that Nadine knew it must mean she was chasing after something. They were a hunting breed after all. Maybe she’d spotted a rabbit or squirrel. But even as she veered off the path, following her dog down a side path, she knew that they’d encountered plenty of small animals before and Duchess had never bolted. She was so well behaved.

  Through the fog, up ahead, she saw Duchess take off even faster, so fast that she was out of sight entirely.

  Then, through the falling leaves, she saw something that appeared to be a vision out of a dream. It was Duchess playing with Duke. Could it be that she was imagining this? Nadine ran to them and that’s when she saw David running toward the dogs from a different part of the park. The dogs were like Catherine and Heathcliff running toward each other, and now they were playing and prancing and jumping on each other.

  “What?” Nadine was incredulous. “You mean?”

  David nodded. “I adopted Duke.”

  “Oh my God. Mrs. Bronstein—Stella—said Duke was adopted by a handsome young man.”

  David looked bashful for a moment. “I just came from visiting her.”

  “Whoa,” Nadine said, finding it nearly impossible to take in the fact that Stella had wanted to set her up with David, that David had cut his hair, that David owned the building she wanted to lease. All of it was just too weird. She turned her attention to Duke instead. He looked well. His wagging tail told her everything.

  She crouched down, but Duke took no notice of her. He was off frolicking with Duchess. “How’re you doing, boy?”

  “He had the operation a couple of weeks ago. The vet said the tumors were benign, so he’s going to be okay.” He got down on one knee and called Duke to him and said, “Aren’t you, boy? You’re going to be just fine.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Nadine said. “Duchess has never taken off before.”

  “Yeah, they’re drawn to each other,” David said. “They used to be inseparable.”

  Nadine knew he was insinuating something about the two of them, but she didn’t want to give in.

  “I feel like I don’t know who you are,” she said. “You presented yourself one way, then showed me something else entirely. It’s hard to trust that.”

  “I never lied to you.”

  “You also never told me that you bought my grandfather’s building. I’d call that a pretty big omission.”

  “I should have mentioned it.”

  “I’ll say,” she huffed.

  “All my life, I’ve wanted to be seen for me, not for my circumstances. When I lost my family, everyone looked at me with pity. I hated it. When I inherited my parents’ savings, I could tell that those same people who had looked at me like I was a lost and wounded puppy dog started to look at me like I was some kind of spoiled trust fund kid. That pissed me off even more. I guess that’s when I started to get secretive. I knew when I started studying at UMich that I did not want my friends and roommates to know that I’d already made my first million. I guess I’m just sick of people treating me differently. I promised myself a year of just concentrating on philosophy without any other complications. So, no, I didn’t mean to lie to you, but I also didn’t want to tell the whole truth because I felt I owed myself.”

  Nadine listened. David’s intensity was too much for her sometimes. He was no boy toy, nor was he immature. He knew himself and the world better than anyone she’d ever met. She was transfixed by him. And just like the epiphany that had hit so hard a little over a year ago when she knew in her heart that she had to restore furniture, in this moment she knew that she loved David.

  “David…”

  “The furniture shop is yours, all right? It was always yours. I happen to hold the title to the building, but so what? Don’t let that stand in the way of your dream. You don’t even have to talk to me, unless you have some kind of plumbing issue I need to handle.”

  “David…”

  “And I know you know I’m not fond of your fiancé, but business is business. If you want to be with him, I’m not standing in your way.”

  “I…”

  “And as for these two,” he said, looking at Duke and Duchess frolicking around each other, “well, they won’t understand why they’ve been separated, but they’ll live.”

  “David. Shut up.”

  Nadine’s command worked. David stopped talking. He looked at her with those warm eyes of his, and she knew what to do.

  Nadine went to him. She put her arms around him. He held her tight and in his arms she knew she had found the one.

  Epilogue

  Nadine watched David haul the last of her boxes up the creaky steps to her tiny new apartment above Grandpa Winston’s shop. She smiled, thinking about the crazy way life works out.

  When the kettle boiled, Nadine announced that it was officially break
time for the entire crew that was helping her move—David, Marnie and Nick.

  “Beer or tea?” Nadine asked her friends.

  “Beer,” Marnie said.

  Nick smiled at her. “Now that’s my kind of woman.”

  Nadine passed drinks around. She opened a bag of organic jerky and took out two pieces for Duke and Duchess. The pair sat down next to each other in front of her. She laughed at them, an unlikely coupling, but perfect in their own way. Maybe perfect on paper wasn’t all she’d believed it to be.

  She was home.

  Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:

  A Tale of Two Hotties

  Destiny Moon

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  My boyfriend, Jon, was in the bedroom of our one-bedroom apartment with the door closed. He was already asleep since it was a weeknight and his shift as a firefighter began at the crack of dawn.

  Bored, I sat in the living room and surfed the Internet, looking up cute animal videos and reading recipes of appetizers I might make on the weekend. I checked my email and noticed a little green light next to Clark’s name. I was surprised to see him up so late on a weeknight as well, and I had the impulse to instigate a quick chat.

  I knew Jon would be sorry to miss this interaction with Clark, as he loved the fact that I had a part-time lover. He said it turned him on to know other men desired me and he liked Clark and got off on having him watch us now and then. Plus, unlike Jon, Clark was kinky, which made it easier to negotiate my having both relationships. Neither of them was troubled by what I did with the other, because everyone’s needs were met.

  Feeling flirty, I opened a chat box. Clark and I hadn’t seen each other in nearly a month. His green light seemed like a signal sent just to me.

  Alissa: What are you doing up so late?

  Clark: Hoping you’d message me, of course.

  Alissa: Good answer. You’re a gentleman.

  Clark: I try, Mistress. I try. Forgive me. I did not ask if I could call you Mistress and since we haven’t spoken in some time, I don’t want to make assumptions.

  Alissa: You may.

  Clark: Thank you. How have you been? Are you seeing fluffy pink clouds these days or are you haunted by some darker skies?

  How typical of Clark to delve into my life with his usual emotional depth. I signed off abruptly, leaving Clark hanging and, no doubt, wondering what had happened. I could always tell him later I meant it as punishment. He’d like that. Or I’d lie and say the Internet had crapped out. The truth was, as much as I liked Clark, in that moment, I wanted Jon.

  Jon and I loved each other. When we’d first gotten together, Jon had said it was hot I already had a submissive male in my life, and he’d encouraged me to keep casually seeing Clark. I’d been seeing him for years. Not often—twice a month, maybe. Only for a couple of hours at a time, just long enough for us to get what we needed from each other. No hanging out in public. No meeting the family. No spending time with each other’s friends. It was simple. Clean. Respectful. Kinky.

  It was incredible to get to have it all. Love me, love my Femme Domme side, I’d told Jon. Jon loved me, and he did respect my fetish for pushing men around, but he didn’t share the kink. He said he didn’t really understand and definitely would not be my slave but he was fine with me getting my needs met elsewhere.

  After a couple of years of both relationships, I wondered if Jon would support my secret fantasy to go even further with Clark. My clit forced me to obsess over the idea. I pictured Jon fucking me while I pleasured Clark with my mouth. Then I visualized them switching.

  Oh, heavens.

  The image in my mind’s eye consumed me. It was fascinating, really. Clark and I had a sensual and kinky connection, but it wasn’t sexual by the standard definition. Yet recently, I found myself thinking about the most vanilla stuff imaginable, like what it’d be like if Clark fucked me. I trusted him. Jon trusted him. I suppose it was an emotional connection that had led me to having a kind of crush on Clark. But I didn’t even know if he liked me in that way—or whether he liked anyone in that way.

  We’d met years ago online and our connection had revolved around foot worship since the beginning. Now there was a fetish for me. In fact, I think most women would have that fetish if they were to be honest. Was there anything more wonderful than having one’s feet massaged and caressed? I used to tease Clark that he ought to open up a pedicure operation. He’d put all the other estheticians out of business.

  But he said most customers would not take kindly to his services. He was probably right. He loved to kiss my feet—at a salon, that’d be awkward. And he was no good with nail polish. I made him try once, thinking I’d save myself the expense of a professional treatment. It didn’t work out. His skills weren’t lacquering and buffing, but still I’d argue nobody did foot care like Clark did. I was one lucky girl.

  * * * *

  The next night Clark was online again. His green light beckoned me, like I was Gatsby pining for Daisy. I did everything to resist, telling myself if I started to chat with him more often, it’d turn into a real relationship—the sort we’d agreed to avoid.

  I flossed. I painted my toenails, checking back sporadically, hoping he had signed off. My toes didn’t look good with this shade of orangey-red. I took it off with a cold cotton ball doused with acetone then reached for the color I loved—a deep, dark red, the color of velvet seats in old Victorian theaters.

  The distraction of transforming my toes was a relief, but I stopped before applying polish. The green light was still on, tormenting me. I felt like it was playing with fire to be aware of what my body wanted, but afraid to express it. Clark, being the sort of fellow he was, had a way of getting me to confess all my secrets. It was part of his allure—the intoxicating attention he’d lavish on me.

  Did I have the confidence to tell him I wanted to get fucked by two guys at once? That I wanted him—a self-identified slave—to put aside his submissive nature for a moment to give me what I really wanted from him—a hard fuck? Would I even be able to get those words out? And why—even as a fully accomplished adult—was I so scared to admit what I longed for?

  I thought about society’s programming, about how my parents raised me to be a good girl, about all the times I’d had sex in the missionary position in my life—not because I liked it but because it felt expected—how it had only been in the past few years, since meeting Clark and Jon, that I’d finally learned to communicate my desires. At thirty-one, I knew that if I was going to have the best sex of my life, I’d have to put on my big girl knickers, take a deep breath and ask for what I wanted. But how?

  Jon was open-minded, but still… He’d been brought up in a conservative family with traditional values, much like I had been. Somehow we’d managed to build this incredibly solid foundation, in spite of coming from families that didn’t talk much. He’d recently told me he genuinely enjoyed watching Clark pleasure me the times we’d had him over, but I couldn’t help but wonder whether it made him feel safe that Clark and I had never had any genital contact at all. It was a straight-up foot worship scenario. I got delightful foot rubs and Clark got to give them to me.

  Jon liked to watch and he told me he wanted to fuck me while Clark watched. But so far, that was the extent of it. I didn’t have a clue how to bring up with either one of them that I wanted to go further. They were both such gentlemen that they wouldn’t push the issue with me, and I didn’t know if it was something they’d both be into. I wanted to tell Clark my feelings for him had deepened, but I didn’t know exactly how.

  I broke down and messaged him.

  Alissa: Do you ever miss me when we’re not together?

  Clark: All the time.

  Alissa: For real?

  Clark: Would I lie to you, Mistress? Would you rather I call you Alissa right now? Do you need a friend?

  Alissa: Can you tell?

  Clark: Spill it.

  Alissa: I miss you. I’m thinking ab
out you.

  Clark: I’m thinking of you as well. When do I get to see you again?

  Alissa: How about I come over this weekend. Tea first? Maybe Jon can come too?

  Clark: Sure. You can see my new place.

  Memories seeped into my consciousness, and desire consumed me. Clark provided me with something that didn’t interest Jon. He worshiped me in a way Jon simply couldn’t. Jon wasn’t hardwired that way. I knew I wanted to marry Jon. My parents loved him. My friends loved him. He was the man I wanted to be with. But even after just a couple of weeks apart, I missed Clark’s hands on my feet. I missed his lips kissing my toes, his deep dark eyes looking up at me in awe. I missed how beautiful I felt after seeing him.

  Emotionally, I found my relationships with my two hotties confusing, because society seemed to dictate ‘this or that’, not ‘this and that’. In some ways it felt selfish to ask for more than the conventional monogamous connection. I was blessed to have two men who were happy to oblige me, so I wrestled with the concept of asking for more.

  Jon emerged from the bedroom dressed in his plaid boxers and oversized black T-shirt. I was instantly aroused when I looked at him and glad he was still awake. It was long past his bedtime.

  “What are you doing?” he wanted to know.

  “Not much,” I said. “Just a little instant messaging.”

  He walked into the kitchen, poured himself a glass of soymilk and drank it at the sink.

  “Who are you chatting with?” he asked.

  “Clark,” I said. I looked at him to decipher his reaction.

  “Oh yeah? Maybe we should have him over again soon,” he said, with a hint of a smile.

  “We were just talking about maybe the two of us going over to his place this weekend. Are you up for it?” I raised my eyebrow and looked at his crotch, hoping to get a laugh. I did.