When I imagine a longer-term relationship with Ian, I see it like this: we’ll meet up maybe once a week at most, but more like a couple times a month when we’re done working together. Depending on my mood we might have vanilla sex or we could play around with the Dom/sub thing. I’ll stay the night – or he’ll stay the night, since we could use my place too – maybe we’ll have breakfast and watch TV, and then we part ways until next time.
Maybe we’ll see each other at The Dark Hour, let alone with other people. That’s fine. Maybe I’ll feel a little jealous. I don’t doubt that he would too, but it’s for the best. I need to get my Domme kicks, and Ian Mathers is not going to give me that, no matter how many times I get on my knees and call him Master.
He shouldn’t have to, if he doesn’t want to. It wouldn’t be fun unless he was 100% wanting it anyway.
Can I say I’m disappointed by that? Because I am. I admit it. I still wish I could dominate Ian for a change. Although now that we’ve gone deeper in our sex life, I think about tying him up less. I don’t know if it’s because I can’t see him that way anymore…
Or if because I don’t want it anymore.
I look at Eva, who is so self-assured in her identity. Today she’s wearing a loose silk tank top and white cotton pants that accentuate her long legs. White stilettos. A blue teardrop necklace. Diamond earrings. That stylish hair that screams classy soccer mom or raging lesbian.
Honestly, she makes me insecure.
She has to know what she wants, so she does. She always looks so polished and sophisticated, even when she’s at the club spanking a girl or in my apartment wearing a T-shirt and jeans and stuffing her face with popcorn. I don’t have a crush on her. Not like that. But I admire her ability to blend in seamlessly anywhere, even if she sticks out like a sore thumb bruised seventy times over.
I wish I could be so confident.
You may think it’s silly that me, a woman born with a silver spoon in her mouth and all the trappings that come with it, would be so insecure. I even realize how lucky I am to feel okay about my body and appearance. I’m not in love with how I look, but I don’t shudder when I look in the mirror…
Yet it’s not easy, no matter how much money you have. People judge you. They want you to fit into a specific mold, and across the class board, that mold means knowing my place as a woman. I’m fortunate to have enough money to tell that attitude to fuck off. I’ve met many women in my various campaigns who never had that kind of luxury. They can only make the best of a less fortunate situation.
Ian is the first person in this society who made me blissfully not care about who I am. When I’m with him, I not only feel good looking, but valuable and intelligent…
Even when he’s doing those things to me…
“Kathryn?”
I look up in time for the server to bring me my lunch. Eva removes her snapping fingers from my face with a twist to her mouth. As soon as the server leaves and we have our food, she says, “Stop daydreaming about that guy for two seconds, huh? If I knew I would be having lunch with you and Ian in spirit…”
“Hardly!”
“Don’t play that with me. You’re thinking of Mathers like I’m thinking about the bacon in this salad.”
We eat and attempt to change the subject to our usual fare. My mother’s most recent letter from Germany, Poland, Austria… I’m not sure where she is. Eva’s mother and her terrible jewelry that she makes and keeps sending her daughter. Eva’s brother and what a mess the wedding planning is. Grad school, both her classes right now and my memories from a few years ago.
I’m thinking we can get back to normal when the owner of the restaurant walks through the door, escorting a young woman carrying a basket full of…
…Kittens.
Eva snorts into the back of her hand, and I know right away that it’s Jasmine Bliss, the eager girlfriend of billionaire Ethan Cole. While I’ve never met the woman on a one-on-one basis, she has an infamous reputation in our circles for being…
Well, let’s say she means well, but lacks a lot of the manners so many of us are bred with. It’s the main issue with people who marry up into these families instead of laterally… aw, fuck, this is what Eva meant, isn’t it?
The Mathers are interested in pushing me to be Ian’s girlfriend and maybe wife down the road because they don’t want him marrying a Jasmine Bliss. Who, presently, is talking way too loudly with the owner and cooing over the juvenile cats in her big woven basket.
Lots of people bring their pets to a place like this. While most of them are those little lap dogs that are more or less well-behaved, there is one guy and one other woman who bring their cats on leashes.
A basket full of kittens is another story, and it’s taking every bit of decency Eva and I have to not completely lose our shit.
Jasmine looks in our direction and drops the smile. I turn away, blushing.
“I mean… I see what that guy sees in her…” Eva mumbles over her salad. “I go over to Cole’s office enough to see her there. Even met her when she was his, ahem, assistant.” Billionaire fucking his hot assistant. Tale as old as time… and how Caroline Grant became a Grant-Mathers. “She’s pretty, acts cute, and grew up poor like him.”
“What’s that last one have to do with anything?” I’m whispering, even though Jasmine is far on the other side of the restaurant.
“Honey, haven’t you been listening to what I’m saying all day? A guy like Ethan Cole, who grew up in the fucking ghetto on the other side of town, isn’t going to want to spend his life with women like us. We’re too high maintenance. Our standards are on Venus, not the moon. Can’t be helped.”
She’s got a point, which makes me think of Stephanie May, a girl who grew up middle-class but still “poor” compared to us. Would Ian want to marry a girl like that? Or just fuck her?
Would he rather marry someone with my background?
I’ve long known that if I’m going to get married, it would have to be with a guy as rich as or even richer than me. Men don’t like it when their girlfriends have more money, more social power. It invalidates their masculinity, which is already the most fragile thing on this planet.
And likely means a lifetime of loneliness for me, because even an obedient, submissive man would still get so much shit for dating a billionaire woman.
The mewling kittens reach our ears toward the end of our lunch. Looking over my shoulder, I see Jasmine still talking to the owner while her gaggle of cats fall over each other, nap, and sniff at her food. They’re short-hairs with black and white markings. Cute.
She catches me looking again.
“You need to knock that off,” Eva hisses at me. “Last thing you want is her thinking we’re some sort of mean girls.”
“People think that about us already.”
“Yes, but ‘people’ aren’t fucking and pumping money out of the likes of Ethan Cole. Who, I may remind you, is a good friend for any family around here to have.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice. Besides, last thing I really want is some poor lady like Jasmine thinking I’m making fun of her. Even though I kinda am. That’s only because she’s such a rarity around here. Most rich bastards with their poor-to-rich-girls keep them hidden away to minimize the social gaffes. Not Ethan Cole. The man doesn’t give a shit, and I admire that.
So after she catches me looking a third time, I know I need to get off my ass and go over.
“Oh boy,” Eva mumbles, staying in her seat for her own good.
“Jasmine!” I say sweetly, standing next to her table. The owner excuses herself to go oversee something, leaving me with Ethan Cole’s sweetheart. She’s done up in a stylish blue and white sundress that flows around her legs and accentuates her black, strappy heels. Her long, wavy black hair has a sparkly blue hairclip in it, and her makeup is minimal but striking. Yes, I can see why a man would go nuts for her – even with the stripper name.
“Oh, you are…”
“Kathryn Alison.” I extend my hand, which she shakes with trepidation. “We’ve met a couple of times before. My father does some business with Mr. Cole.”