by Sky Corgan
“It's not the way it looks but the way it feels. I'm a very picky man. You should know this by now.”
“Infuriatingly so,” I mutter.
I see the waiter approaching in my peripheral vision with two plates. I expect him to divert to another table, but instead he stops in front of us, serving us both. I stare down at my plate with my mouth agape. It looks like some kind of meat in a stew of vegetables with a side of green beans and what appears to be mashed potatoes. Lucian's dish is different than mine, but even more unrecognizable. A mix of meat and herbs and mushy black things.
“You ordered for me?” I ask as soon as the waiter is out of earshot.
“Mhm.” Lucian grabs his fork, acting like it's no big deal.
“This place doesn't have menus?”
“It does. I just took the liberty of ordering for you.” He stabs at a bite-sized piece of meat.
Never before has a man ordered for me. This is stuff I've only read about in books and seen in movies. It's just not normal or right. How does he know I'll even like this?
Gingerly, I pick up my knife and fork to cut into the meat, identifying it as chicken. “What is this anyway?”
“It's a healthy version of Coq au Vin.”
“What in the heck is that?” I scowl at my plate before taking a small taste of the sauce. It has a rich, savory flavor. Not bad, but probably not what I would have ordered had I seen the menu.
“It's chicken and vegetable stew cooked in red wine. I picked green beans and mashed cauliflower for your sides. Cauliflower is healthier than mashed potatoes.”
A shiver of anger rolls down my spine. What if I wanted mashed potatoes instead of cauliflower? What if I wanted something else entirely? How dare he order for me?
“Do you not like it?” He swallows the bite of food he was chewing and looks at me expectantly.
My jaw tightens as I remember how important it is not to upset him tonight. He can still pull out of the interior design contract if he wants. It pisses me off that we're back to this again, that he has so much power over me right now.
“It's fine.” I stab at the chicken like I want to kill it a second time.
“Good.” He obviously doesn't believe me, but he says nothing more.
The next several minutes are spent in silence while I force the food down and try to temper my anger. The food is actually pretty good, but that's besides the point. It feels like he's trying to control me, and I don't want to be controlled. We're a couple, not Dominant and submissive. I don't like being treated like a submissive, especially when we're out in public.
I finish a little less than half of my food before my appetite wanes due to stress. For as much as I keep telling myself to forget about him ordering for me, it has me really agitated. What if I want dessert? I'd bet a hundred dollars that he won't let me order it. If he wouldn't even let me have real mashed potatoes, then I doubt he'll let me have diabetes on a plate.
It doesn't bother me that he likes eating healthily. In fact, that's a good thing. He wouldn't be chiseled like a Greek God if he didn't. But I like my fats and carbs and sugar. Maybe I could stand to lose a few pounds but...Oh God, is this his way of silently telling me that I'm fat? Is that why he ordered for me, because he doesn't want me to gain any more weight? Suddenly, I'm feeling a lot less sexy in my little black dress.
“Are you alright?” He arches an eyebrow at me.
“Yeah, why?” I pick up my glass of wine and drain it. At least he doesn't care if I get drunk.
“You're awfully quiet.”
“I just feel a little out of my element is all.” It's not exactly a lie. This whole dinner now feels strange to me.
“You'll get more in your element later when I take that dress off of you.” He looks at me over his glass of wine, his eyes going dark with lust.
“Maybe I will.” I blush, feeling the wine going to work enhancing my desire.
“But first I suppose I should tell you what I wanted to say.” He drops his gaze before unbuttoning his suit jacket.
To be honest, I'd been stewing over him ordering for me so much that I had practically forgotten he wanted to tell me something.
“You wanted me to stop working at Flesh,” he says as he fishes for something inside his suit jacket.
My heart skips a beat at the very prospect of what he's grabbing for. Even more so that he mentioned leaving Flesh. It must mean that he really is serious about us.
“I'd like that more than anything,” I reply, unable to hide the excitement in my voice.
“Then here's my offer.” He takes a folded up paper out of his pocket and hands it across to me. Several folded up pieces of paper, actually.
“What is this?” I ask, my expression sulking as I unfold the papers. When I read the capitalized heading, my heart drops to the pit of my stomach.
It says CONTRACT OF SUBMISSION.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
If there was a button I could press to magically teleport back to my apartment, I would be slamming my fist down on it. It's taking everything in me to keep my hand from shaking. This isn't what I want at all. This was never what I wanted. The fact that he thought this would make me happy shows just how little he understands me.
Lucian pushes his plate to the side and steeples his hands on the table as he waits for me to read through the contract. I'm so speechless and numb that all I can do is flip through the pages to keep from throwing them in his face.
The contract is very extensive and strict. The rules of my submission are neatly typed out. It looks legal though I know it's not.
My eyes scan the list of things he would require of me, and the more I read, the more pissed off I become. There's a section about what I would eat from this point on, which cuts out almost all carbohydrates and sugar. It's so specific that he has added percentages to how much protein, vegetables, and fruit I'm allowed to have at each meal.
There's also a section on the vitamins I would be required to take, along with an exercise regimen of weight lifting three days a week and cardio three days a week with one day off. After reading that, I glance up at him over the papers. Do I fucking look like I workout?
To make things worse, he expects me to document everything. Food, fluids, vitamins, exercise. And that's just when I'm not with him. When I'm with him, his list of expectations is a mile long. If I agreed to this, I would pretty much become his slave.
By the time I get to the end of the contract, I'm wondering how red my face is. The pressure building up in my neck makes me feel like my head could pop right off of my shoulders.
“I brought a pen if you're ready to sign.” He reaches back into his pocket to pull out an expensive looking fountain pen.
I drop the contract onto the table in front of me, my hands frozen in place with my fingers spread. I'm desperately afraid of opening my mouth because something horribly vicious might come out.
I swallow and close my eyes, my mind going about a million miles per hour. The act of searching for non-dramatic words is a lot harder than I thought it ever could be.
“I must respectfully decline,” I manage to say between clenched teeth.
“You...decline?” I don't think he could sound any more confused if he tried. “I thought you wanted a relationship with me.”
“I do want a relationship with you, Lucian, but not like this.” I tap the contract with the back of my hand. “Never like this.”
“I don't understand.” He shakes his head. “I thought we were on the same page about this. I thought that everything we had going on was building up to this.”
“Oh my God, I'm so fucking stupid.” I draw my hand up to my face, my eyes going wide as I'm struck by an epiphany. “You never wanted a relationship with me. You never wanted to stop being a Dom. You only wanted this.”
“Of course this is what I wanted.” He quirks his head back, and I can tell that he's getting upset as well. “What did you think I wanted?”
It feels like my blood is boiling. The
re's a hard lump in my throat that's threatening to choke me to death. Every moment spent in his presence feels excruciating. The way the mood has shifted from happy to incredibly tense in almost the blink of an eye is way too much for me to bear.
I reach into my purse to take out my phone, trying to still my angry trembling long enough to call a taxi.
“What are you doing?” Lucian furrows his brows at me.
“What's the name of this place?” I can hardly stand to look at him right now.
“Amy, put down the phone.” He rolls his eyes, which only pisses me off more.
“Yes, I need a taxi to come pick me up,” I say as soon as someone picks up on the other end of the line.
“Amy, put down the phone,” Lucian repeats, his words clipped with aggravation.
I choose to ignore him. Because he doesn't own me. Because he never will. “I'm at...” I search the room for anything with the restaurant's name on it. Oddly, it's nowhere to be found. My frustration builds as I realize that the universe has decided to make escaping Lucian incredibly difficult for me. I'm not going to let it win though. I stand and take long strides out of the restaurant to look at the name on the building, then blurt it out into the phone the best that I can.
By the time the operator tells me that they'll send a cab right over, Lucian has come out of the restaurant as well. He looks tense, but I could not care less. All I want to do is get away from him and stew in peace.
“Amy, come back inside.” He holds the door open for me.
“No. My cab will be here shortly.” I cross my arms over my chest, refusing to turn to him.
“I'll take you home. Come back inside so we can talk about this first though.” He nods towards the building.
“I don't want to talk right now Lucian, I just want to...I just need space.” I hug myself tighter.
He sighs, “This isn't how I thought this would turn out.”
“Me neither, obviously.”
“Well, I need to go inside and pay our bill. I'll come back out when I'm done.” He leaves, and I listen to the soft whoosh of the door slowly closing behind him. Everything in me prays that the taxi will arrive before he has a chance to return. I'm so emotionally frazzled that I can feel tears beginning to work their way towards my eyes. Crying is the last thing I want to do right now. At least not when I'm in public.
A hiccup rolls up from my throat, bringing the first line of wetness to my eyes. I feel played. All of those times that I thought Lucian and I were in sync, that we were making progress towards normalcy—it was all bullshit. I was blind to what he really wanted, and he thought he had successfully manipulated me into being what he wanted me to be. We're so mismatched it's not even funny. Why couldn't I see it until now? Truly see it.
The door to the restaurant opens, and I cringe as Lucian approaches out of my peripheral vision. He has that damned contract in his hand, and I half expect him to offer it to me again. Instead, he steps up beside me and slides it back into his coat pocket, looking every bit as awkward as I feel.
“So I guess I really screwed up?” He shifts his weight, pivoting back and forth on his heels a few times before stopping.
“I screwed up too.” I run my tongue over my teeth, trying to relieve some of the tension in my jaw. My face feels like marble.
“How so?” He turns to look at me.
“For being naive enough to think you might have eventually wanted more than...” my voice trails off as I search for words.
“More than what?”
“I don't even know anymore.” I shake my head. Melancholy is starting to take over with the realization that I wasted my time with him. I wasted both of our time. This was never meant to be.
I feel his hand touch my back, and it sends an unpleasant shiver rolling down my spine. I want to jerk away, but I don't. Somehow, I feel like this might be the last time he ever touches me. My body still wants to savor it despite my heart bleeding in my chest.
“Amy, I care about you a lot. I know that you don't think it is, but this is a really big step for me. Wanting to be exclusive with anyone...I haven't felt that way in a long time.”
“You can be exclusive to me without making me your slave,” I snap at him, forcing myself to pull away from his poisonous touch.
“That's not what this is about.” His expression is so pained that it makes me avert my eyes. “Being a submissive...Yes, there's a lot that goes along with it. But you should know that everything in that contract is negotiable. We can compromise.”
I face him finally, my hands going up towards his neck as if I want to strangle him though I stop before they reach him. “Lucian, you don't get it. You just don't get it.
“I have zero interest in being a submissive. I've never wanted to be your submissive. I never will want to be your submissive. Now where in the fuck is my taxi?” I gesture erratically at the street.
“Let me drive you home. There's no reason for you to be out money for a taxi.”
“It's fine. I really don't mind.” I take a few steps away from him to put distance between us.
“Please.”
“Do you not fucking understand what the word no means?” I lash out at him, all of the emotions inside of me swirling to the surface into one big rage fit. “You're a surgeon. I thought you were smarter than that. Wait, no. It's not because you're dumb. It's because you're a selfish prick who is always used to getting what he wants.”
“Amy, you're not being fair.” He cocks his head to the side.
“Life isn't fair, Lucian. Get over it.” I shake my hands at him. “I really don't understand how your wife dealt with all of your bullshit. The woman must have been a saint. Or did you make her your slave too?”
“Leigh wasn't into BDSM. She didn't know anything about it,” his tone is unusually soft, and I can hear the pain weaved into it, which instantly makes me regret striking such a low blow.
“She wasn't?” I ask, calming a bit.
“No. We had a regular, boring vanilla sex life.” Lucian shoves his hands in his pockets, looking down at the concrete.
“So, you never told her you were into it?”
“I wasn't really into it at the time. I mean, I did want to do kinky stuff with her, but it didn't really matter. BDSM wasn't an integral part of my life until after she died.”
“Oh.” I bite my lip, trying not to get too sentimental over the fact that I obviously hurt him. “Then why does it have to be a part of our relationship?”
“I'm a different man now, Amy. I wish it wasn't so, but it is. This is something I need in my life.” His eyes meet mine, and they're all seriousness.
“Can't I just be enough for you?” The first tear cascades down my cheek.
Lucian steps forward and pulls me into his arms, and I don't stop him, quietly leaning against his chest while I surrender to my sorrow. I wish he would say something. Anything. But he doesn't. We simply stand there and embrace. He rocks me gently, resting his head on top of mine and occasionally kissing my hair.
Then my taxi pulls up. Finally. But of course not at the right moment. I disengage from Lucian, looking up at him pleadingly. His expression is surprisingly hard. And then he does something that shatters my heart completely.
Without so much as a goodbye, he opens the taxi door for me.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
“I just want to die.” I sob into Janice's arms. Wrecking sobs. The kind that leave your throat dry and your chest sore.
The pain I'm feeling inside is almost unbearable, and I feel like it's my own fault that I'm going through it. If I hadn't jumped to conclusions about the contract. If I had just stayed in the restaurant and taken the time to talk to Lucian, then maybe things would have turned out differently.
“Hey now, it's going to be alright. This is a good thing.” Janice strokes my hair.
“How is this good?” I pull away from her, sniffling. “My heart is in a million pieces and I don't know if there's enough glue in the world to put it back together
again. I can't believe I was so stupid.” I rub my eyes, smearing my makeup.
“Now probably isn't the best time to tell you that I told you so, but it will be coming later. You wait for it.” She points at me with a smirk, trying to be playful, though it's entirely inappropriate at the moment.
“God, Janice, I hate that I overreacted. I feel like I should call him.” I grab my purse off of the coffee table and dig through it for my phone.
Janice puts her hand on my arm to stop me, her brown eyes meeting mine. “Don't. You're emotional right now. Give it a day. You need to cool down and collect your thoughts.”
I know she's right, but I can't stand the thought of leaving things the way they are between Lucian and I. Even though I still don't want to be his submissive, I feel like this can be fixed somehow. I have to be able to fix it. I was so mean to him. The memory of me bringing up his dead wife makes me start crying all over again. What a horrible person I am.
“Hey. You stop that right now.” Janice slugs me lightly on my shoulder.
“Ow.” I rub it, scowling at her.
“I know what will make this better.”
“Lots and lots of chocolate cake.” I pout, hoping that my misery coupled with the not so subtle hint will coax her into baking a cake for us.
“No.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head.
“What then?” I wrinkle my nose, disappointed.
“You should go to Flesh and fuck around with another Dom. That would really tick him off.”
My mouth falls open from the suggestion. “Janice Elledge!” I lightly backhand her knee. “For one, I'm not a slut. And for two, I'm not vindictive like that. I want to make things better between us, not worse.”
“Suit yourself.” She shrugs. “I'm just saying that my Dom is going to be free on Sunday night, and he's really good.”
“How do you know he's going to be free?” I quirk an eyebrow at her.
“Because I'm switching to a different Dom.”
“Why?” My eyes widen in shock. “I thought you liked your Sir.”
“I do like him, but I think I'm ready to kick things up a notch, and he doesn't do a lot of the stuff I want to try.” She tilts her head thoughtfully.