Don't Come

by Jessica Gadziala

  I forced my hand to leave his thigh, realizing too late that it had landed way too high on it, dangerously close to brushing his crotch actually.

  "I usually make a man pay for dinner before I let them use a vibrator on me," I tried to quip as I reached for my wine again, resigning myself to the fact that tipsy might be the only way I could survive this torment.

  DOM looked over at me, eyes serious. "I'm not like the men you have known, Adley."

  Over the rim of my glass, I nodded. "I think I am starting to get that." There was a pause as I turned to watch a smiling couple be led to their table. "Can I ask you something?"

  "That's what we're here for," he agreed, reaching for his wine. Wine. I wasn't sure I had ever seen a man drink wine before. It was always beer or whiskey. I actually kind of liked this. I bet his lips would taste like it.

  "If this were to go on from here... what would happen?"

  "The next time we meet, it would be at my place. Where training would start."

  "What kind of training?"

  "A little bit of everything. Learn your interests and limits."

  "We'd be having sex right away?" I asked, that maybe being a bigger part of my hesitation.

  "Maybe. It depends."

  "On?"

  "On how things go, pet. Everything depends on how things go. I can't say for sure that the next time we meet that I will fuck you. I don't know. I don't know how you'll respond to anything before then. Though the goal is to fuck. Among everything else."

  Right.

  Of course, that was the goal.

  If I were honest with myself, I would admit that even just the way he mentioned sex was making ideas form in my head, ones that were hotter than the ones I had imagined before with only a dark picture and a voice to inspire them.

  I opened my mouth to ask something else when the waitress came back, dropping our rolls down silently, not bothering to ask if we needed anything because, well, everything was there already.

  But I almost missed the opportunity for pleasantries, for something that would lighten the heaviness between the two of us.

  I focused on eating for a long couple of minutes, only speaking to tell him that his recommendations were spot-on. He stayed silent as well, but while I was steadily avoiding looking at him, I could feel his gaze on me often.

  "Adley, you've been quiet for almost forty minutes," he informed me when the food was finally gone, and the plates removed.

  "What's your name?" I heard myself blurt out, it being something I had been wondering from the day he asked me for mine.

  And as much as he was willing to answer anything else I had asked, to this, he shook his head. "You don't need to know that. In your phone, I bet I am listed as DOM. And that is good enough. When you're with me, tonight aside, you know what you're supposed to call me."

  Sir.

  That was all I was supposed to call him.

  "Can I ask what you do for--"

  Apparently, I could not.

  Because the vibrating started up again, stronger than all the times before, making me press my thighs together hard enough that they shook as my forehead pressed into his shoulder.

  Surprising me, his arm moved around me, curling me closer in toward his chest, his chin dropping down on my head as my lips pressed into his throat to stifle the sound that escaped me as the vibrator started to strobe instead of giving me one long steady beat, something that was making me unravel way too quickly.

  "Don't come, pet," he demanded, fingers digging into my hip hard enough to pinch, like a warning, but all it managed to do was drive me closer to the edge.

  The pulses stopped, and the whimper I let out was almost loud enough for whoever was in the other booth to hear. Luckily, the backs were high, and they couldn't see.

  "I know," he soothed, a sound I didn't think would normally suit him. "Not too much longer," he went on. "If you agree to move forward."

  There was a light tapping sound that made me jerk back hard from DOM, moving to put some space between us, realizing that the waitress had discreetly dropped the bill.

  Instinctively, always being someone who paid her way, especially on first dates, my hand reached for it.

  "Remember what I said about no rules tonight?" DOM asked, voice sharp again.

  "Yeah?"

  "I lied. Don't ever reach for a check around me."

  "Is this a pride thing?" I asked, letting him take it because I was pretty sure this was not a battle I wanted to fight.

  "It's an I pay, case closed thing."

  "I like to pay on first dates. At least my half."

  "Because you don't want a man to expect sex from you. Adley, we've already established that sex is part of the equation if we move forward. But that is not tonight. I pay not because of pride, but because I was raised to believe that the pleasure of your company is the only thing you need to provide me in exchange for a meal."

  Well, that was that.

  He slipped cash onto the sleek silver tray the bill had come on, more money than I would have even thought to bring with me for dinner, then moved to slide out, fastening his coat before he extended a hand to me.

  My hand moved into his, finding it strong and sure, and it hit me for the first time that this was a hand that could - if I allowed it - spank my ass, brandish a flogger or paddle, close around my throat, wrap around my hair, reach between my thighs and make me finally, finally come.

  At that moment, I was sure there wasn't a hand more capable.

  And I wanted to explore that.

  We moved out front, DOM pulling me toward the curb where he hailed a cab faster than anyone I had ever seen, using the small of my back to turn me so that my shoulders hit the open doorway before leaning in, so close that his lips brushed my earlobe, sending a shiver through me.

  "Say yes, and the next time you see me, pet, I will make you come harder than you ever have before."

  With that, his hand slid down my side, he turned and walked away.

  "You getting in or what?"

  Well, you could always count on a rude New York City cab driver to shock you back to the present moment.

  On unstable legs, I dropped into the seat, rumbling off my address as I reached in the clutch that was too small to be truly functional, making me scatter cash, gum, and a lone condom - because a woman should always be prepared, even if she wasn't planning on sex - across my lap in search of my cell.

  It didn't ring though.

  Not on the ride back to Williamsburg.

  Not as I rushed past some sketchy looking people visiting my neighbors.

  Not as I peeled off the dress and scrubbed off my makeup.

  My heart was a sinking thing in my chest when I sat down on the edge of my bed.

  And then I realized there was one thing I forgot to remove.

  The panties.

  And I knew this because they started vibrating - low and steady.

  My phone rang, my hand reaching for it, swiping over the screen.

  DOM: Long range wifi. I can torture you all night. Do not take them off.

  My hands hovered over the screen as my thighs pressed closer together.

  Adley: Okay. When? Where?

  DOM: Tomorrow. Seven. 160 Central Park South #1810.

  The panties shut off, making me fall back in bed.

  Central Park South.

  I worked hard.

  I knew that the harder you hustled, the better opportunities you found. But I also understood that in many - if not most - professions, there was a cap to how high you could climb. I could work twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and I could never afford Central Park South.

  I wondered what he did for a living, if he was passionate about it like I was about my job.

  But I figured that if his name was off-limits, that those questions would be as well.

  DOM: Adley...

  Adley: Yes, sir.

  DOM: Dress however you want. But you won't be in your clothes for long.


  Adley: Yes, sir.

  I moved up the bed, climbing under my sheets, wondering how much he was going to torment me with the panties before he would let me get some sleep.

  I expected that.

  But I didn't expect my phone to ding again.

  DOM: I've never had to convince a sub to choose me.

  That was maybe the most personal thing he had ever said to me, the only piece to his puzzle he felt willing to share. Our scales were as uneven as they could get until now. I felt like maybe this was a step in the right direction, something that humanized him to me.

  He wasn't just DOM, the Dom.

  He was a person.

  Adley: It wasn't personal. This all happened suddenly.

  DOM: You've wanted it your whole life, pet. There's nothing sudden about this.

  Adley: Wanting something and doing something are very different things. Especially when it comes to someone taking your control away from you.

  DOM: You always have power.

  Adley: You know what I mean.

  Clearly done with texting, the phone started ringing, making my heart leap up into my throat.

  "You're scared because you've never met a man who you could trust to take care of you, Adley. But you will learn to trust me." There was a short pause as his words settled in, as I realized he was likely right; I would learn to trust him where I had failed to trust any other man. "I want you to understand something that a lot of subs don't realize. A real Dom will never take anything from you. You will give your control over to them. Then he will show you just how good that feels."

  "Then what is in it for the Dom?" For you.

  "Each Dom is different. Some just need the control. Others get off on the pain. Some even just like being trusted so implicitly. The reasons are as varied as the reasons subs like to submit."

  "I guess that makes sense." Even if I didn't truly understand my reasoning for wanting to submit. Maybe it was as simple as the fact that I had so much control over my life that the idea of being able to lose some sounded cathartic.

  "So you'll sleep now?"

  Fat chance.

  But I liked that he thought he needed to call to clear it up so I maybe could.

  "Maybe."

  "I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Adley."

  With that, not waiting for me to wish him one either, he hung up.

  About an hour and a half later, he proved that I wasn't the only one not sleeping when the panties came to life again, leaving me clutching the sheets, trying hard not to come, wondering if maybe tomorrow he would put an end to the torment finally.

  I guess I would see.

  FIVE

  Adley

  I got about two hours of sleep, and during that, I had tossed and turned, not able to fully relax.

  As I sat off the side of the bed in the morning, I decided not to overthink it, not to convince myself that it was because I was having second thoughts.

  This was just a big deal. It was a culmination of years of wanting - and denying - myself something.

  As I dragged myself into the shower, committing myself to a full day of beauty because it would help settle my nerves and, well, if I was going to be naked in front of a man - the most handsome man I had ever seen to boot - then I wanted to look and feel and smell my best.

  Once every inch of me that needed it was shaved, all of me was exfoliated and lotioned, my hair had been through a mask and was dried and styled straight, my makeup was done - very minimally - and my toes and nails were painted, that was when my belly finally started twisting into knots.

  DOM: Eat something.

  Sometimes, he was downright intuitive. I had been running on endless amounts of coffee, just trying to shake off the cloud sleeplessness left over my brain. And, well, not a thing else.

  And it was six in the evening.

  I took a breath, going to my kitchen to find something bland enough that it wouldn't make me feel sick if my stomach decided to start rolling. Settling on toast, I made a few slices and choked them down with another cup of coffee before rushing off to brush my teeth, touch up my makeup, and slip into my heels before forcing myself to go outside and hail a cab.

  "Fun night out planned?" the cabbie asked as I slid into my seat. And I guess my dress and heels implied that. Even if it was Sunday.

  "Night in," I corrected.

  "Even better," he said, sending me a knowing smile in the rearview that made me even more aware of what I was about to do. "So where are you headed?"

  "160 Central Park South."

  I could see the raised brow he gave me, knowing where I was coming from and where I was going. He probably thought I was a freaking escort.

  The ride wasn't nearly long enough, pulling me up in front of a tan building that hurt my neck to look up to see the top of, the red sign on the roof telling me exactly where I was. A hotel. A hotel with residences.

  "Have fun," the cabbie who I suddenly wished was as quiet and dickish as many of his peers said as I passed him money, and found my door being pulled open.

  A doorman.

  A full-time doorman.

  That was how you knew you made it in life.

  "Hello, miss," he greeted me in his simple black uniform, a seemingly kind middle-aged man with soft gray eyes and an easy smile. "Would I be right in assuming you are Miss Adley?"

  He had called the doorman about me?

  "Ah, yes," I said, giving him a wobbly smile as he led me over toward the doors.

  "Wonderful. You are expected. Just go on right through here. Elevators are to the left. Take it up to the 40th floor."

  "Thank you," I told him as I stepped inside, genuinely meaning it. I had completely forgotten to ask things like what floor he was on.

  The entrance was just about what you would expect from a place that likely boasted some residences that went well up into the double-digit millions.

  The ceilings were coffered with wide, detailed golden crown molding. The pillars were black marble. The walls themselves were the darkest of dark woods with the occasional breaks of beige. The tiled floors were in a pattern of brown and sand with a black marble border. Directly in the center was a large mirrored table with an intricate yellow and purple fresh flower arrangement, the only soft and feminine thing in the entire space.

  Trying not to gawk, I forced my suddenly weighted legs to take me to the left where the double-wide elevators were situated, closing myself inside - blissfully alone.

  My finger moved out to press the 40 as I leaned back into the wall for support, taking a deep breath.

  You are expected.

  That was what the doorman said.

  You are expected.

  Not Mr. So-and-so is expecting you.

  He gave me nothing.

  And he must have been instructed to do so.

  Maybe that was because this happened so often.

  There was a slight but undeniable dropping sensation in my stomach at that, at knowing I was just one of the crowd, just a face and a name and a body he would likely forget within months, to be lumped in with the endless others.

  Of course, I wasn't the first.

  And I knew better than ever to assume I was going to be the last.

  Not that I wanted to be the last.

  That wasn't what this was.

  This was about experiences. Casual experiences.

  Case closed.

  My stomach wobbled when the doors slid open. I hesitated so long that the doors started to slide closed before I threw my arm out between them, and forced my legs to carry me out into the hall.

  The space was the polar opposite of the lobby. Where the lobby was dark and masculine, the hall was bright and welcoming. White wainscoting went halfway up the walls, the rest painted the lightest of grays. On either side of the hall were long, low black leather benches below large, ornate mirrors flanked by crystal sconces. The hardwood floor was nearly black, but mostly covered by an endless off-white carpet with a small, but pleasing black geometric
pattern.

  It seemed to go on forever, breaking open on either side into other hallways.

  I took a look down at my phone, seeing I was two minutes away from being late, and rushed forward to look down the halls, trying to find the one that might house DOM's condo.

  I was standing outside the door at seven on the dot, quickly knocking, not wanting to know if there would be punishment for being late.

  It was enough of a threat to bank down the anxiety I was feeling about the situation as a whole as I stood there waiting for him to answer.

  "You cut it close," he remarked, eyes moving over me in a way that actually felt possessive. Until that moment, I hadn't been aware that a look could, well, look possessive.

  "I had no idea where to go once I got onto the floor," I admitted, looking back out at the maze I had managed to master in under two minutes.

  "Did you eat something?" he asked as he moved out of the way, allowing me to step inside.

  "Yeah."

  "But you didn't sleep," he observed, closing and locking the door before snagging my chin and forcing it up so he could look at my face.

  "Not really," I admitted, knowing it was right there in the smallness of my eyes and the dark circles that the makeup didn't really fully cover. Not usually being someone who struggled with sleep, I didn't have the right kind of cover-up in the house to hide the proof of my sleepless night.

  "You nervous still?" he asked, making my belly flip-flop in agreement.

  "Yes."

  "Want a drink first?"

  God, yes.

  I managed a nod that made him release my chin, then turn to lead me out of the foyer and into the apartment. It had an open floorplan with deep wood floors and off-white walls. Except in the kitchen to the left that was painted a deeper imitation of the gray in the halls with dark wood cabinets and stainless steel appliances.