I Am a Dominant

by Maggie Carpenter

  “Okay, fine, what suggestions?” she said resignedly.

  “First, relax. It won’t happen if you’re all tense and worried about it. You need to relax, and second, don’t fake it.”

  “I feel like I have to,” she frowned.

  “If you fake it, number one, it will become a habit, and number two, you’re lying to your lover, and that’s never good.”

  “I…uh…I get embarrassed, and I don’t want to disappoint whoever it is.”

  “Much of the time we know, Destiny, and then there’s a weirdness that starts to settle in. Trust me, don’t fake it. Just be honest, and let your lover help you.”

  “Okay,” she sighed. “I’ll try. I will. Not that I have anyone right now, but when I do, I will.”

  “Last and most important, don’t have sex just for the sake of it. Wait until you meet someone you really like, someone who makes your tummy tick over when he kisses you, and when find yourself in bed with that someone, you tell him the truth. I know I keep repeating myself, but I need this to sink in. He can’t help you if you keep him in the dark.”

  “I really want it to be you,” she whispered. “When you hugged me tonight, I felt those things.”

  “Destiny, I know, I felt those things too, but I promise you the choice I’m making for us is the right one. It may not feel like it this minute, but in the long run it’s the right one, and believe me, I wish it wasn’t. I truly do.”

  Her tears finally escaped, dribbling down her face, and my heart broke.

  Sometimes doing the right thing feels like the hardest thing, but ultimately it’s the easiest, and as I sat there, holding her hand, sipping on my tea to keep my composure, I knew it was one of those times.

  I drove her home, and when I pulled the car up to her door she threw her arms around my neck, not just clinging to me, but to the hope that I’d change my mind.

  In spite of my clarity I can honestly say that extricating myself from her hold, then walking her up to her door and saying goodnight…well…it was tough, it was really tough, and driving home I had to fight the inevitable second-guessing that strikes even when we know we’ve made the wise decision.

  As you may have guessed Byron did take her out, and it went, as they say, swimmingly. It wasn’t long before she came bouncing up to me at the club, her eyes shining.

  “It happened, it actually happened,” she exclaimed. “Byron is the best. Thank you for making me wait.”

  As she hurried back to him I felt the tug at my heart, but there was joy in that tug, and I could live with myself.

  To this day I don’t understand why I was so drawn to her, and even though we can’t control that chemistry when it strikes, I castigate myself for it. She was far too young, too innocent and too needy, but perhaps those were the thing things that touched me. Now, when I hear people gossiping about a May/December romance, I feel empathy for the couple; that fork in the road intercepted my life too, and were it not for my business I may well have chosen that path.

  We are complex creatures, and there is still no explanation for that indefinable chemistry that sparks to life between two unsuspecting souls. It’s just one of those unsolved mysteries, and I suspect it will remain so. I felt it with Destiny, but I had to let her go. Why did it exist between the two of us, when we were so incompatible? I can’t think about it, and I don’t, because…

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  What Happened With Caroline

  …Caroline and I still together. We have been since our reunion, and that chemistry is there, like crazy.

  Rachel, Helen and Destiny all happened before I ran into Caroline at Harrods, but I didn’t want the last third of the book to be strictly about us. Maggie argued everything should be chronologically correct, but she let me have my way, so if there is praise or blame to bear please place it squarely where it belongs, on my shoulders.

  Being with Caroline…where do I even start? She has taught me what it means to deeply love another, and though we’ve had our ups and downs, I estimate that it’s been 95% up and only 5% down. (My analytical mind there.) She challenges me, calls me on my crap (yes, I have crap) and is so darn sexy I can’t keep my hands off her.

  I wanted to end the book with Caroline because that’s the current status of my life; I thought it appropriate, so will share one of the bumps in our road, and our highest of high points.

  First, the bump.

  Caroline is an inexpensive drinker. One glass. If she drinks a second she turns into the life of the party. I’m exaggerating a bit there; if she has a second drink she gets the giggles, which is fine, but then the giggles progress into hysterical laughter; it’s quite bizarre.

  When she told me about this phenomenon we were out to dinner, just the two of us, and I wanted to see it first hand, so she drank two glasses of wine and sure enough she could not stop laughing. Everything was hilarious. She laughed all the way home, up the stairs, then fell on the bed and five minutes later she was sound asleep.

  I have researched this but haven’t found any satisfactory answers. Why alcohol affects her so strangely doesn’t really matter, it is what it is, and forewarned is forearmed.

  We’d been together about six months, and when we attended the dinners and cocktail parties that are part of my job she was always the modicum of graciousness. She’d nurse a drink throughout the evening, and when her glass was empty she’d switch to ginger-ale or lemonade; I never had cause to complain or worry.

  Then the holidays hit.

  At the time I didn’t know if it was the stress of the season, or if she wanted to stir the pot, but things began to change, starting with her office Christmas party; she went past her limit.

  It was a raucous event, not my cup to tea to be honest. Copious amounts of alcohol flowed, and loud laughter filled the room, so Caroline’s unusual merriment went virtually unnoticed, except by me. I put it down to needing to let off steam, we all do at some point, and thought nothing more about it.

  What followed was another holiday gathering at the club, an evening exclusively for members of long-standing. It was a small, elite group (probably forty or so) and was held in the playroom and upstairs lounge.

  We’d enjoyed some marvelous food, flutes of champagne were at the ready, and Caroline had split off to chat with some friends while I was talking to Charles. We’d been in the lounge, but when I glanced around and realized she’d left the room I decided to search her out.

  I finally found her in a booth in the playroom, and was stunned to see her chugging down a glass of champagne. I knew she’d already had one, and I didn’t know if that was her second or third. Her girlfriends followed suit, and all three of them reached for another as the waiter wandered by.

  I began to worry.

  I’d turned a blind eye when she’d drunk too much at the office party, but now it was happening again, and after watching for a few minutes I moved across to join her.

  “Evening, ladies, Merry Christmas, you all seem to be in fine form.”

  “Isn’t he dreamy?” Caroline giggled gazing up at me.

  “I’ve always thought James was dreamy,” one of her friends remarked.

  The comment sent her into the predictable fit of laughter.

  “If you don’t mind, I need a word with my lovely girl here,” I smiled, and gently taking her by the elbow I led her away to a quiet booth on the opposite side of the room.

  “Caroline, are you all right?”

  “Of course, I’m having a great time,” she laughed. “Why wouldn’t I be all right?”

  “How many glasses of champagne have you had?”

  “Oh, please, it’s the holidays, who cares?”

  “I care, you know how you get when you drink too much.”

  I was beginning to feel like a stuffy, annoying boyfriend, but then I saw a look in her eye, a look that said, what are you going to do about it?

  “Are you testing me, Caroline?”

  Unfortunately that set her off into the hysterical laughte
r thing again, and I knew all efforts at sane communication were pointless.

  She was in no state to ‘play’ in the playroom, so I simply kept a close watch and made sure she didn’t hurt herself as she continued to have a hilariously wonderful time. When we finally arrived home, predictably she was asleep as soon as she hit the bed.

  A few days later was a holiday gathering at the impressive home of the Chairman of the Board and CEO of a company with whom I did a great deal of business. It was a formal affair, and I was genuinely looking forward to it. The guests always included some noted names and faces, and I thoroughly enjoyed pulling my tux from the garment bag, and slipping the gold cufflinks into the crisp, white cuffs.

  But I was worried. I’d scolded Caroline the morning after the club party, and made sure she knew I did not approve of her excessive drinking, but I’d not had the chance to have a truly serious talk with her.

  I’d ordered a car for the evening, and as it wound through the streets on the way to pick her up, I focused on the serious lecture I was about to deliver. I was determined that she would understand what I expected, and she absolutely could not fall into her ditzy, drunken state at this event.

  When the car pulled up outside her place I was set to lay down the law firmly and clearly, but when I rang her bell and she opened the door, I literally caught my breath, stopping to stare at her before she hurried me inside out of the cold.

  “Do I pass muster?” she smiled.

  She was dressed in a shimmering, deep blue satin gown that fell gracefully around her curves. It was sleeveless, but diaphanous folds of fabric floated from the shoulders down her arms, and while the neck was high, there was a scalloped tear drop in the center of her chest, just enough to add a touch of sensuality.

  Her almond-shaped eyes were made even more so by the artful use of mascara on her outer lashes, and a dash of smoky blue eye-shadow at the edge of each eyelid. She looked as stunning as a supermodel.

  “You…wow…!” was all I could manage.

  “And you look so handsome in your tux,” she beamed.

  “Before we leave…” I sighed, wishing I didn’t have to have the talk with her.

  “What? You look so serious.”

  “Caroline, this night is very important. It’s the third year I’ve been invited to this party, and it means something.”

  “I know, you told me.”

  “You absolutely, positively, must limit yourself to one drink. You can’t get the giggles and start laughing hysterically at this party, it’s a very conservative crowd. I’m sure these people get up to all kinds of nonsense behind their closed doors, but this party is dignified and reserved, a one drink only night. This is not a request, Caroline, it’s an instruction. One drink. Got it?”

  “One drink, yes,” she nodded. “I know I’ve been off a bit lately, I guess it’s just the year-end stress and all that.”

  “So, we’re clear?”

  “Yes, James, we’re clear.”

  I felt reassured as we headed out, and when the car pulled through the large gates of the stately home I stared around the motor court. A couple of Rolls Royces and Bentleys were proudly gleaming, their chauffeurs waiting patiently behind the wheel.

  “One of these days,” Caroline whispered as she took my arm, “stay the course, it will happen.”

  We all need support, and I was grateful for hers; she buoyed me, and immensely proud of the beauty on my arm I walked inside.

  Cocktails were being served before dinner, and we each took a glass of champagne as the tray was presented. I began to make the rounds, introducing Caroline, chatting with people I knew, and meeting others I didn’t.

  The gong announced that we should make our way into the dining room, and to my dismay Caroline took the last swallow from her champagne flute, placing the empty glass on the tray as the waiter swung by. As we meandered with the crowd, I leaned forward and whispered in her ear.

  “You know that means no wine with dinner, right?”

  “Uh-huh,” she nodded.

  We entered the expansive dining room and my heart sank. George Fellows, the host of the party, liked to break couples apart, and I discovered I was at one end of the table, and Caroline at the other.

  “See you after dinner,” she smiled, and as I left her I shot her a look, but she was already taking her seat and talking to the man who would be sitting next to her, an elderly, quintessential English gentleman, complete with handlebar mustache.

  Saying a silent prayer I sat down, and with great pomp and ceremony the meal began. I introduced myself to the man on my right, and discovered George had done me a great service; the man was someone who could be of great benefit to my business. As an independent operator I rely upon such contacts, and I knew the placement was no accident.

  To my left was a well-known actress, extremely beautiful, but true to the stereotype she was enthralled with her celebrity, and chatted endlessly about the awards she’d won, and the awards she wanted to win, most notably the Oscar.

  As in past years it was a six course affair, and everything that was served was delicious. I’d done my best to keep tabs on Caroline, but between the financier and the actress it wasn’t easy to dart my eyes in her direction without appearing to be rude.

  It was during the main course that I was able to truly focus on her, and I was not just angry and disappointed with what I saw, but slightly panic-stricken. She was drinking from a white wine glass and laughing with the elderly gentleman next to her. They were both in stitches over something, and my only consolation was that there were no frowns on the faces of those around them, just amused smiles.

  But I knew her laughter wouldn’t stop at the end of a joke or an amusing moment, I knew it would progress into uncontrollable hysterics; at best she’d make a fool of herself, at worst she’d appear to be a drunk.

  That’s when it hit me.

  Did Caroline have a serious drinking problem?

  The answer came seconds later.

  She sensed my stare, and as she looked back at me, in spite of her state, she pushed her glass away. It was a conscious act, the act of someone in control. I kept covert watch, and when the waiter returned with the bottle she placed her hand over the top of her glass.

  Caroline didn’t have a drinking problem; Caroline was just being a brat. Caroline wanted me to notice. Caroline wanted me to take her in hand. She’d been telling me. How did I miss the cues?

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Discipline Delivered

  I noticed she drank water for the remainder of the meal, and when we moved back into the lounge for brandy, coffee, tea, and tidbits of various desserts, she hurried to my side.

  “Sorry,” she whispered, her voice urgent and strained.

  “That’s not quite going to cut it,” I replied, “and I suspect you’ll be saying that word many times over when we get back to my place.”

  “But I stopped,” she protested.

  My response was a reprimanding scowl, and as I saw her quiver beneath my eyes, I could almost hear her butterflies fluttering.

  “What a marvelous audience your young lady is,” a baritone voice announced.

  Looking up I saw the mustached man approaching, a broad smile on his face.

  “I’ve never had anyone find my anecdotes so amusing. Major Hilary Parker.”

  He extended his hand and I shook it enthusiastically.

  “James Collier,” I replied.

  “You’re a lucky man to have such a beautiful and charming companion at your side.”

  “Thank you, Major, yes, I am.”

  “Might you have a card? I’m planning on a post New Year’s bash at my country home. Would love to have you both come down. Time we had some fresh young blood around the place.”

  “We’d be delighted, wouldn’t we, Caroline,” I replied, pulling out my card holder. It was gold, monogrammed, and to the older English gentry such things went down well.

  “We would, I love the country, how kind of you to t
hink of inviting us,” Caroline said gracefully.

  “Excellent. Second weekend in January. It’ll be chilly and snowy, perfect for a brandy around the fire.”

  “Sound’s marvelous,” I smiled handing him my card.

  “George tells me you’re quite the comer. There might be some people there worth meeting. I’ll be in touch.”

  As I watched him wander away, astounded by the turn of good luck, I noticed the crowd beginning to thin.

  “See, my bubbling personality paid off,” she declared.

  “Not for your bottom,” I said firmly. “Let’s find George. I need to thank him and then we’re off.”

  It didn’t take long to locate our host, and after extending my heartfelt and sincere appreciation we headed out the door and down the front steps to wait for the car. It was cold, and even with her heavy woolen coat Caroline was snuggling against me.

  “James?” she said softly.

  “Yes, Caroline?”

  “I’m glad about the Major, but I truly am sorry. I was in control. I was laughing, but I was in control, and I swear it won’t happen again, honest.”

  “You’re right about that,” I replied.

  I felt her shiver; I knew it wasn’t from the crisp winter air, and curling up next to me on the drive home she was noticeably quiet.

  If the car had offered a privacy screen I might well have put her over my knee for a warm up, but I concluded that the anticipation she was feeling was probably the better option anyway. When the car stopped outside my house her hand clutched my wrist; it was evident my guess was correct.

  “Not too hard, though, right?”

  “Wrong,” I said sternly, and just as the driver opened the door I added, “straight up to the bedroom, take off your coat then stay exactly as you are.”

  A blast of cold air hit us as she paused to look back at me.

  “You don’t want me to undress?” she whispered.

  “As I said, coat off, then stay exactly as you are. Please get out of the car.”

  The chauffeur took her hand as she climbed out, and we headed inside. I watched her as she climbed the stairs, and when she reached the landing she paused, looking back at me over her shoulder, then without a word she continued on to the bedroom.