by Tabatha Kiss
Last night was… well, to put it bluntly, fucking amazing. It didn’t quite sink in for me until I left her condo this morning. It’s been so long since I met a woman who meshed so well with me.
Actually, I take that back.
I’ve never met a woman who meshed so well with me.
I head downstairs to the laundry room, replaying the moments over and over again. Latching that collar around her neck. The warmth of her mouth when she sucked my dick. That beautiful ruin on her face every time the nipple clamps did their job and that absolutely perfect way she said she wanted to submit.
I’d do it all again. I will do it all again.
“Hey, Clive!”
I look up from the washing machine to find Alex standing behind me.
“Hi,” I say, turning up my hands.
“Why didn’t you answer me?” I ask. “I called out to you three times.”
I focus on the machine. “I’m just busy,” I say.
“Yeah, I bet.” He smirks. “Busy got a name and her name is Payne. Am I right?”
I gawk at him. “No.”
He slaps my shoulder and hops up to sit on the next machine down. “Seriously, though. You find that drive yet?”
“No,” I answer.
“You got into her place, right?” He furrows his brow. “Tell me you got into her place by now. Otherwise, the world of good pussy is doomed for all of us.”
“Yes, I got in.”
He leans in with excitement. “So, where is it?”
“I’m not sure,” I say, dumping the rest of the towels into the washer. “I didn’t find it out in the open and she woke up before I could really dig into her office but there is a small safe built into her bedside table. I think it might be in there.”
Alex grins. “Now, that’s progress.”
I nod. “I need more time.”
He cringes. “I’ll keep stalling, but…”
“Then, keep stalling.”
“But this buyer wants his product.”
I glare at him and he holds up his hands.
“All right. Stall mode activated.” He pats my shoulder again. “But tell me. How did it go otherwise?”
My heart skips as I imagine her mewling on top of me in the dark.
“It went fine,” I say.
He sighs in disappointment. “You’re the only guy I know who doesn’t kiss and tell, man.”
“No, you just hang out with a lot of douchebags, Alex.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Ain’t gonna argue with that.”
I shift my focus to the dryer as it shuts off. “Anyway, I gotta…”
Alex slides off the washer. “All right, man. Keep me updated. But, uh… you know. Hurry up. The rest of our lives is waiting for us.”
I ignore it until he disappears down the hall.
The rest of our lives. It was so easy to imagine before. On the road with a brand new car, plenty of food, and extra cash to spend. A smooth, easy-going existence to anywhere but here. It’s been so long since I looked forward to anything, but now…
I can’t wait for Monday morning.
Can’t say I’ve ever thought that before.
* * *
Monday morning. Little Black Book. Nine-to-five shift.
I’ve been working here for only a few weeks and I’ve never felt so excited to walk into this building. Even the lonely, old security guy up front seems to notice the special hop in my step. Instead of the usual wave, he gives me a salute. I’ll take it. Hell, I’ll even salute him right back.
The sooner I get up to the fifteenth floor, the sooner I get to see Nora.
The elevator comes into sight and it dings, ready to close on me but I don’t want to delay getting upstairs any longer than I have to.
“Wait!” I say. “Hold the elevator!”
A small hand reaches through and blocks the doors from closing at the last second. They slide back open and I pick up my pace to make it before they decide to close again.
I step on. “Thanks—”
And it’s Nora Payne.
Her hair is held up in a tight bun. She stands tall in a nice suit — or what her petite stature’s version of tall is — with her briefcase and purse held down in front of her. My eyes fall to the plastic pearl dangling above the hollow of her throat. She’s wearing her collar for me.
My cock twitches in my briefs.
“Good morning, Clive,” she says, offering a professional smile.
I nod and stand beside her. “Good morning, Ms. Payne,” I say.
I tap the button to the fifteenth floor, praying silently that the doors hurry up and close before someone else manages to get on.
We stand still, staring straight ahead, until the doors close.
I slap the stop button and the car halts mid-floor.
Nora drops her things as I rush at her. Our lips merge together and she performs a little hop as I hoist her up and pin her little body to the corner wall.
“Good girl,” I groan. I kiss from her lips to her cheek and down to her collared neck. “Very good girl.”
“I wasn’t sure if I should wear it to work,” she says, laughing. “We didn’t really discuss the rules…”
I bend down to kiss her hidden cleavage. “The rules are…” I grip her chin. “You wear it proudly or not at all. Do you understand?”
She licks her wild lips. “Yes, Mr. Snow.”
“To not wear it is a show of disrespect toward me,” I say, holding her eyes. “And you do not want to disrespect me.” I run my thumb along her bottom lip. “Do you understand?”
Nora smiles. “Yes, I understand.”
I kiss her once more before releasing her from the wall. She lowers her feet to the floor and looks into the mirrored wall to check her shirt for wrinkles while I wipe her lipstick off my lips and fix the mess she made of my hair.
“Do you work tonight?” she asks me, catching her breath.
“Actually, I have one of those strange happenstances I keep hearing about called a night off.”
“Really?” She smiles at me, her eyes twitching with thought.
I reach out to straighten her necklace. “Why?” I ask.
She nods a thank you. “I thought that maybe…” She picks up her purse and briefcase. “Maybe you’d like to grab a cup of coffee. With me.”
I lean over to enable the elevator again. The car bounces an inch and continues its ascent.
“Coffee?” I ask.
“Uh-huh,” she says.
“Coffee…”
“Yeah, you know, it’s like tea but better,” she quips. “Or worse, depending on your perspective.”
I shift on my feet. “Hmm.”
“What?”
“It just occurred to me that we’ve never gotten coffee before.”
“I came to a similar realization myself,” she says. “Figured I’d do something about it. Also, it gives us a chance to talk. One-on-one. Face-to-face. About something other than… well, you know.”
“Talk?” I ask.
“Uh-huh.”
“Talk…”
She squints in confusion. “Yeah, you know, it’s like thinking… but you say it out loud.”
I laugh. “Okay. Sure. If you want.”
Her eyes shine with the slightest, most innocent, twinkle. “I want.”
“Then,” I stand taller, “let’s get some coffee… and talk.”
Nora bites her lip. “Meet me at the coffee shop next to Red Brick at six?”
I nod. “I can do that.”
“Great,” she says, her face relaxed but still smiley.
The elevator opens and Nora walks onto the floor with confidence the way she always does.
I stand still until the last possible moment before the doors decide to close.
Talking over coffee.
Talking over coffee… about something other than... well, you know.
Nora Payne just asked me out.
I step off the elevator and make a h
ard turn toward the accounting block.
This was the whole point, right? To gain Nora’s trust. To earn access to her life and get close enough to… Christ, I don’t even remember anymore.
That’s a lie. I remember exactly why I’m here and it sure as shit isn’t to plug payroll numbers all day.
I lower into my desk and stare at the wall beside my computer monitor.
This is getting too out-of-hand. It was different when it was a possible one-night-stand. It was different when Nora Payne was just another rich bitch from the wealthy district. Just a damn representative of the elite one-percent with enough money to throw at all of her problems — anything Alex and I planned to accomplish included.
I never expected a connection.
I never expected real trust.
I never expected to fall for her.
That’s what this is, isn’t it? That gripping nausea in my gut twenty-four hours a day? That sick feeling that never goes away until I’m in her presence again. Then, I feel like a million fucking bucks. I feel indestructible. All because she looks up at me and says my name.
She’s my sub. I have a responsibility to protect her… inside and outside of the bedroom.
But how long could we possibly last? Not long, that’s for damn sure. She’ll move on and I’ll be left with nothing. That’s the only way this can end.
I have to finish the job I started.
Twenty-Six
Nora
I look over my shoulder toward the entrance again. It’s not even six yet but I can’t stop counting the moments.
Talking over coffee. It’s the oldest date in the book. I’ve done it a dozen times before but I’ve never felt this many butterflies.
The entrance chimes again and I perform a quick look, hoping for that ruggedly handsome and familiar face to walk in and whisk me off my feet, but… no.
It’s just Robbie.
I see him before he sees me. He walks in with dirt caked on his jeans and t-shirt but that leather jacket is in pristine condition, as usual. He spots me and I give him a friendly wave. He raises his bandaged hand to acknowledge me as he heads toward the counter to order.
I pick up my phone to distract myself from checking the time again but I just end up checking the time anyway. Five fifty-five. He still has five minutes. Calm down, girl…
Robbie plops into the booth across from me and sets his coffee down in front of him. “Hey, Bubbles,” he greets, nodding softly. A few tattered, sweat-covered strands of his hair plop down along his forehead.
“Hey, Rob,” I say. “You look… tired.”
“Just another manic Monday,” he answers, raising his coffee to his mouth. “You, on the other hand, look cute as hell, well-rested, and ready for a night out.”
“Maybe.” I blush. “If he shows up.”
“Nora, nobody, and I mean nobody, will ever live up to your impossible standards for timeliness and punctuality,” he jokes. “Give Daddy a break.”
I tilt my head in annoyance. “You, too?”
“Blame Trix. She texted me.”
I deflate. “Jeez…”
He chuckles but quickly throws on a more serious face. “For real, though. Are you happy?” he asks. “You look happy.”
My smile spreads. “I think I might be.”
“And you’re safe, right?”
“Uhh…” I laugh. “Yeah, we’re safe.”
“I don’t mean condoms,” he quips. “Obviously don’t have to ask you that. I mean, do you feel safe with him? He’s not violent or anything?”
I shake my head. “No, he’s not. He’s dominating, sure, but I’ve never felt safer. You don’t have to worry.”
“Are you sure?” he asks. “Because there is a very tall, very blue-eyed father figure by the register that looks about ready to beat me up.”
I look over my shoulder. Clive stands at the counter across the shop, gently leaning against it as he waits for the barista to make his coffee. A smile touches my lips but he continues staring fire daggers at Robbie.
I turn back to Robbie. “He’s a sweetheart, Rob. He just sees a strange guy talking to his date. Do I need to remind you what happened to the last guy you thought was hitting on Melanie right in front of you?”
He rolls his eyes. “You punch one priest and the world never lets you forget it.”
I raise a brow while I take a sip from my cup.
“Hey, Nora.”
Clive appears over me, his hand instantly falling to rest on my shoulder.
“Hey, Clive.” I gesture across the table. “This is my friend, Robbie. Robbie, this is Clive.”
“Yo, Clive,” Robbie says. He extends his bandaged hand by accident. “Whoa — wait. Hope you don’t mind going lefty.”
He switches to his left hand and Clive extends his own.
“Nice to meet you,” Clive says.
Their handshake lasts a second too long. I look down to find both of them squeezing each other with white-knuckle grips.
Men.
“Anyway…” Robbie takes his hand back. “Good to see you again, Nor.”
I nod. “You, too, Rob.”
Robbie stands up, purposefully extending his height as tall as he can but Clive clearly towers over him by five inches. He slides his sunglasses free from his pocket and scoots them up his nose. “I’ll see y’all around,” he says, giving Clive a head nod.
“Bye,” Clive says.
Robbie takes off and Clive sits down in the booth across from me.
“What was that about?” he asks me.
“That was just… Robbie,” I answer.
He wrinkles his forehead. “Seemed like he was coming on to you,” he says, gripping his cup.
I set my coffee down. “Clive, no. Trust me. He’s my best friend’s ex-husband. We’ve been friends for a very long time and that’s all we’ve ever been. He’s more like a big brother to me than anything.”
His shoulders relax a little. “And he’s never…?”
“Never. Okay — full disclosure — I have seen him naked but that was a very strange Easter Sunday parade that he will never live down.” I laugh.
“Okay.” He cracks a smile. “Ex-husband?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened there?”
I sigh. “Melanie Rose, despite her profession, isn’t the romantic type and Robbie Wheeler is the tattooed bad boy from the other side of town who knows exactly how to push her buttons. They met out of nowhere one night, a few years ago, and it was like a powder-keg. When they weren’t fighting, they were fucking, and every moment in-between, they were madly in love. In all my years of setting people up, I’ve never known two people more entwined than Mel and Rob.”
“So, what changed?”
“Robbie is an alcoholic,” I say, thinking back. “And after a year of urging him to get help and making excuses for him and his behavior, she had enough.”
He raises his coffee. “Seems harsh,” he says, taking a sip.
I nod. “It’s hard to stand by your man when he can’t even stand up on his own. But she tried. We all tried. One day, she kicked him out. They had a huge fight. They both said some things they couldn’t take back. She filed the next morning and he signed the papers.”
“He didn’t try and fight it?” he asks. “If I was that much in love, I don’t think I’d give up so easily.”
“Oh, Robbie’s never given up on Melanie,” I say, smiling. “When Melanie decides she wants something, she usually gets it. But Robbie is far more patient than she is. He’ll wait.” I shake my head. “It’s only a matter of time until that keg sparks again. I guarantee it.”
Clive’s brow bounces once. “You really are good at the whole dating thing.”
“Only when it comes to others. My own track record is…” I chuckle into my coffee. “Well, fail is such a strong word.”
“And it doesn’t apply,” he says. “I don’t think dating and relationships are things you fail at. There’s far too much chance invo
lved for there to be a definitive formula. Not to throw your livelihood under the bus, of course.”
“You might be right.” I tilt my head. “Just don’t advertise that I said that.”
He laughs. “I won’t.”
I admire him across the table. It’s almost strange seeing him somewhere other than the office or standing in the shadowed corners of Red Brick. This is just… Clive Snow. Casual, coffee-drinking Clive Snow.
“Well, enough about me and my friends,” I say. “I want to know about you.”
“About me?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I glance around. “Here we are. Talking over coffee for the first time. It kind of feels like a first date.”
He nods, smiling. “A little.”
“You want me to trust you, right?” I ask. “I want to, too.”
“What do you want to know?” he asks, staring into his coffee.
I shrug. “Where are you from?”
“Here,” he answers. “Born and raised.”
“Oh, yeah? Where did you go to high school?”
“Amundsen.”
I blink. “Me, too.”
He leans forward. “Yeah?”
“Class of 2005.”
“I was 2010.”
“We just missed each other, then.” I laugh. “So, that makes you…”
“Twenty-five,” he answers.
I bite my lip. “I remember twenty-five.”
“Not too long ago for you.”
“Feels like a million years,” I say, chuckling. “What’d you do after you graduated?”
“I tried more school for a semester or two,” he says. “That didn’t work out, so… I joined the Army.”
“Ahh,” I raise my cup, “now here’s the good stuff.”
Clive shakes his head. “That didn’t work out, either.”
“What do you mean?”
He pauses. “I went through basic and then they chucked me onto a plane to some desert first chance they could.”
“Afghanistan?” I ask.
“Iraq,” he corrects. “A few months later, I was injured and they tossed me right on back home.”
I hesitate. “Must have been some injury, then.”