by Alyssa Clark
“I will definitely rely on you.” I smiled weakly. “And if I need you to kick ass I will call you. I’ll call him when I get home and to my phone. I promise.”
“Good.” She hugged me then. “If I see you at the club tonight I’ll kick your ass.”
I snorted. “I oughta be the one kicking ass here. You’re the one that put me in this position.”
“As long as you still love me,” she let go of me and stepped back, “I will gladly take your ass kicking. Get some sexy, spiked high heeled boots for it. Maybe a nice lace teddy, too. If I’m getting my ass beat, I want it to be from a sexy as hell lady, so this oversized sweater and baggy pants aren’t going to do it for me. Show me that fine ass you’re hiding.”
“Oh my god.” I cracked a little, “We’re in public, and you’re saying all this shit out loud!”
“Yep,” she cackled and turned from me. “Never gonna be able to kick my ass with a reaction like that. See ya in the morning, baby.” She left me there with her maniacal laughter bouncing off the wall of the building our offices was in.
I got in my car when it felt like her laughter was going to hang out to mock me. I knew she wasn’t trying to actively make fun of me, but damn she knew how to push my buttons. I didn’t want to face it any more than I wanted to face the ticking time bomb that was waiting for me on my phone. I could only imagine all the shit that was waiting for me.
Procrastinating wasn’t going to get me anywhere even though I wish it would.
11
I trudged into my door and drug my feet along the way. I could see the fact that I left a cup of coffee on the little ledge of the Keurig in my kitchenette. I didn’t remember making a cup, but apparently, I did and then completely ignored it. I kicked off my shoes and went into the bedroom slash living room area of my apartment. It looked like a hurricane had gone through there, all from the stress of getting ready for last night and then again getting ready for work when I realized I was late.
Since no one was ever invited back to my apartment, I wasn’t worried about the overall look of it. It could be cleaned later when I got bored. What I couldn’t see was my cell phone. I didn’t see it in the tangled chaos of my bed, it wasn’t at its little charging station. That showed that I picked it up with the intent of bringing it along, but where’d it get left at? I was almost willing to accept that I’d lost it forever. It was something that could easily be replaced, and with the way the internet worked now, I didn’t even have to people.
I heard a buzzing and froze. It was in the same pattern as my phone's vibrate function. Damn, that meant it wasn’t stolen. The buzzing suggested I had left it on a solid surface. I followed the noise into the bathroom only to see it resting on the tank of the toilet. Well. That solved that mystery. I let the phone continue to ring until it went to voicemail before I even bothered to pick it up.
I looked at it then only to see it was Liz. The phone buzzed to signify at voicemail was left, and I decided then that I was being stupid. I unlocked it to see I didn’t have nearly as many messages as I thought I would. The voicemail on my phone were all from Liz, who had called me half a dozen times since she woke me. The voicemails were variations of ‘Where the hell are you? Answer me!’ to ‘Come on I lost sight of Simon! Get here!’ The last one was her telling me in a singsong voice, “Man up, bitch. You got this!”
I had the best of friends… friend.
I went onto my text messages to find that they were of a similar sort from Liz. The ones from this morning mirroring her voicemails. The recent ones were memes that were supposed to build confidence, I guess.
There were two messages from ‘Master’ that made me bite my lip. I took a breath and opened it to see that they were the most mundane things. There was a ‘Good Morning’ text that was sent at seven am. I couldn’t read between the lines. All I could decipher from it was that he was being polite. The second message was sent at one thirty, right around lunch. ‘I can’t wait to see you tonight.’
I sat down heavily on the toilet seat and looked at the screen. How was I supposed to feel about this? There was a rush somewhere, my heart was thudding heavily in my chest, and I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. Was he just saying that? Why bother to text me at all? Or maybe he was trying to ignite some sort of anticipation on my part?
I was about to let him down. Even if I could’ve made it tonight, I only had about fifteen minutes to get ready. I didn’t have it in me to make the effort. So I took a deep breath and typed out, ‘I can’t come tonight. I’m sorry.’ I looked at the message, it seemed vague but still polite. There was no reason for him to get offended by that, right? I hit send, there was only one way to find out.
‘Delivered’ sat beneath the message for a minute before it switched to ‘Read’ at six ten pm. There was no going back now. Three dots appeared on the left side of the screen, signifying that he was typing out a message. Then they suddenly stopped. Then my worst nightmare happened. The phone came to life in my hands as he called me. There was no denying it was him either because ‘Master’ was at the top of the screen where the name, or number, would normally appear.
“Fuck,” I swore as I struggled to not drop my phone. I didn’t expect him to call me. Why had I given him my number again? I could ignore it, but he knew I had my phone because I’d just messaged him. Damnit. I hit the answer button because it seemed like there was no other alternative. “Hello?” I squeaked out.
“Why not?” His voice was a growl in my ear. No greeting or anything, just straight to the point.
I guess I can’t beat around the bush either. “I have work in the morning.”
“As do I,” he said simply. “I didn’t keep you out late last night, and I didn't intend to tonight. There’s no legitimate reason why you can’t meet me tonight.”
“I-I-I…” I started to stutter. “I overslept this morning. I can’t run the risk of doing that again, I can’t lose my job. If you want to continue to do this, I can only do it on the weekends.” I tried to sound firm, I tried to summon up every bit of courage that I’ve ever had in me. My voice faltered a little bit, but it felt like I had some balls. “Plus,” since I’d decided to grow a pair I kept going, “I want to talk limitations with you before I have any more interaction with you.”
There was silence, and I had to check to make sure he hadn’t hung up on me. The call was still connected. That’s when I heard a chuckle. Was he laughing at me?
“Well now,” he took a breath. “I can’t argue with you when you put it like that. As well as putting us on a schedule. What sort of limitations did you have in mind?”
How did I tell him what I wanted, or rather what I didn’t want? I bit my lip and stood, feeling silly to sit in the bathroom talking on the phone. I walked into my bedroom and tried to be nonchalant about my answer, there was no point in telling him anything different than I told Liz. “I’m not into butt stuff.”
There was another moment of silence, and it sounded like he was trying to compose himself. “I think this is something we should discuss, as well as any other limits you would like to set. I am just finishing up at my office. How about I take you to dinner?”
I blinked, I expected an argument. I expected a disgruntled attitude. Instead, he was asking me out?
“Tonight?” My voice did the squeaky thing again.
“That is an idea.” He sounded amused.
“I can’t tonight,” I said weakly, even though I knew I had no plans. If I was going to do anything after this phone call, it was warm up something in the microwave and crash hard. Meeting a man that I barely knew, but have had sex with on two occasions, wasn’t something I was mentally prepared for.
He made a noise that made it clear he was displeased with my answer. “Let’s negotiate then. If I am going to have to wait until the weekends to fuck you, then you will have to entertain me twice a week socially.” His voice was clipped, making it all too obvious that he was irritated.
“Okay.” I took a breath, I
was going to stick to my guns. “But not tonight.”
“Fair enough.” He still had that clipped tone. “Tomorrow. I will have a car pick you up after work. All you need to do is give me an address.”
Wait a minute. “No,” I sat up straighter. “You tell me where you want me to meet you and I’ll be there.”
There was another irritated noise. “Fine. But we are going to address your trust issues at some point. I will see you tomorrow.” He hung up with one final frustrated growl.
12
I wasn’t going to mention my new arrangement with Michael to Liz, I didn’t want her to dissect it and make me anymore paranoid over the fact that he wanted to meet me outside of the club. So, I just focused on my work. Or I tried to anyway. The majority of the time I tried to envision what I was getting myself into. I could only imagine what Michael did for a living. The one time I’d seen him with clothes on it looked like an expensive suit.
That’s when it occurred to me to look him up. I knew his first and last name. I should be easy, right?
I dropped work like it was hot and pulled up Google. It took a bit of searching, mostly through the business section, before I found anything on him. Apparently, he came from old money. Instead of following in his father’s footsteps by dabbling in politics, he spent the majority of his time working in investments. There was a number of startups that got rolling thanks to him.
Wait. He has funds in Gossip Catalog. Well, shit. Does that mean I work for him? No, no, he is just a stockholder, I guess. Business was never really a strong point with me. But I didn’t doubt that if he got angry with me that he could probably get me fired. Would I be able to argue sexual harassment?
He wasn’t kidding when he said I had trust issues, not that I had a good reason for them. But my issues had gotten me through the last ten years well enough.
My research left me pressed for time, and I ended up staying a bit later than usual to finish up my projects to get them sent in before I left. I definitely wasn’t using my new found knowledge as a reason to procrastinate against any sort of plans he might have had for tonight.
When I got out to my car, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and I winced. He kept his word. I got into my car and pulled my phone out. By now the message was no longer present on the home screen. I’d have to unlock it to view the message, and he’d know I saw it. But he was expecting me regardless if I pretended to not get his message.
Shit.
I took a breath and unlocked my phone then brought up my messages. His was the first, I really was going to have to change the name he had programmed in. I’d hate for someone to see this and make assumptions. I focused on the actual message.
‘Meet me at the Mirage by 8. That should give you plenty of time to dress appropriately.’ A second message came just as soon as I digested the first bit of text. ‘By appropriate, I mean classy. So not the dress you wore to the club on Tuesday night.’
“That doesn’t help me at all,” I deadpanned in my empty car.
I dropped my phone into the passenger seat and started up the car. The ride home was frustratingly short, especially considering it was five o’clock traffic. I wanted the forty-five minutes it took me to get home to be hours. Of course, it wasn’t going to. I got up into my apartment in a timely manner, even dragging my feet.
It left me looking at my closet and feeling helpless. What do I have in there that is classy?
I didn’t have the time, or money for that matter, to go buy something that might qualify as classy. I could probably call Liz, though I would have to tell her about this date. Was it a date? This meeting, don’t think of it as a date. I’d probably start panicking if I did.
From his text, I assumed the club wear wasn’t appropriate, which was a relief. It meant I could go for something that was a bit more modest. I found a heather gray skirt, one I’d worn to the interview for my current job, in the back of my closet. I held it up to myself and looked in the mirror that hung from the door. It looked like it would still cover my hips. I’d gained a little weight since I started, but having a desk job and money to buy food would do that to you.
Satisfied with it, I sat it on my bed and started to look for an appropriate top. There was at least a few blouses in here from when I wanted to impress someone. The oversized sweaters that I wore to work were just for the sake of blending in, I only wanted to stand out when it was absolutely necessary. I found a ruffled v-neck, sleeveless top that was a pale pink. I don’t remember buying it, but there was no other way it could’ve snuck into my closet. My mom had long since given up trying to get me to dress feminine.
It would have to do, the longer I dug through my closet the later I would be.
I changed quickly then went into the bathroom to fix my hair. My red curls were in a frizzy mess of a ponytail, one of the ways I got to get extra sleep in the morning was not caring about my appearance. I should’ve thought better of it this morning. Sighing, I pulled the hair tie out and started to dig a comb through it. That only made matters worse.
So, I opted to just twist it up. I managed a dignified looking French twist with more bobby pins and hairspray then was necessary. I only had enough time to put a touch of eyeliner and mascara on. It wasn’t until I went for my shoes that I realized that I was doing more than looking classy, I was struggling to make an impression.
We’ already had sex, why am I making this effort?
I didn’t know.
All I knew was that I had to decide whether or not I was brave enough to try to wear heels, or if I was going to play it safe in my go-to sandals. I saw the box covered in dust, the one pair of heels I owned.
Be adventurous.
On a whim, I grabbed the heels and a little handbag I used for forced outings with Liz, then I began a modest run for the door. I didn’t bother to slip on the shoes until I hit the sidewalk and then I had to slow down as I tottled towards my car. Somehow I managed to get in it without breaking anything, other than a small sweat.
The drive to the restaurant was daunting because it was on the other side of town. Downtown, where all the expensive restaurants liked to live. Places I’d never be able to afford to eat at so I never gave them a second glance.
Mirage was, apparently, so high end that they had valet service. And I didn’t have any cash for a tip. Shit. This was one of the reasons why I didn’t venture down here. I’d already pulled into the valet line, and it was too late to back out.
A younger man came to open my door, he didn’t seem put off at all that it was a battered sedan. He just smiled politely and offered me a hand up. “I’ll take care of you, ma’am.” I got a grin that I assumed was supposed to put me at ease.
I swallowed because there was nothing that would relax me. “Thank you.” I took his offered hand, I needed the help to stay balanced. “Do I need to give you the keys, too, or do I leave them in the ignition?” I’d already gotten out, and I felt like an idiot; I’d never used a valet before.
“Yes, ma’am.” Another sweet smile. “I’ll take care of it. Andy over there will give you a ticket, and you can give that back to us when it's time for you to go.”
“Thanks.” I was glad he recognized the fact that I was unfamiliar with the process. Carefully, trying to look like I blended in, I walked towards the entrance of the restaurant. I was a few minutes late, and I knew I was probably going to get it tomorrow night. My purse vibrated, but I was too intent on walking without tripping that I didn’t bother to pull it out.
The Maître d’ stopped me as soon as I got in the door. Unlike the polite valets, he looked snooty. His black hair was slicked back, and he looked down his nose at me. “Can I help you, madam?”
“Uh…” What did I tell him? Usually, at a regular chain restaurant, I’d tell the hostess that I had someone waiting on me, and I’d go find them. Maybe that’d work, too? “A Mr. Michael Reed is waiting for me?” Maybe it was because I asked it instead of just saying it that made my whole being here questionable.
He glared at me then took a step back to eye me up and down like he didn’t believe me. “Mr. Reed did say he was waiting on someone,” he murmured almost to himself before he sniffed. “I will go inquire with him if it is indeed you.” He turned and didn’t give me a second look as he went into the bustling restaurant.
I took the time to calm myself down by taking in the decor. The tile beneath my feet was black marble with bits of gold and silver streaking through it. The walls were white but had a slight sheen on them that was set off by the crystal chandeliers that hung overhead. It made for a dazzling romantic atmosphere. With the white tablecloths and the room full of well-dressed people.