by Rebel Wild
“So, what you mean is that he’s too nice?”
“I thought he had more of an edge, that’s all.”
“Maybe he was just trying to be nice to you. It was a date, you know? Not a job interview.”
“Or maybe he’s an asshole at work but a softy at home. I just don’t think he’s the guy for me. I need a man with a little more oomph.”
“Aw, come on, Reagan. He’s so hot and I don’t know, but I saw a lot of megalo he was tapering down for you tonight. He probably just doesn’t want to freak you out. You’ve been jumping like a skittish horse since he met you.”
I roll my eyes at her and head to the shower. I need to wash off this date and Reed Dixon. I won’t be seeing him outside of work again.
Chapter Six
That date was the worst mistake of my life. I can’t do this shit— this vanilla-guy-dating-a-vanilla- girl shit. At least now I know. I tried and it didn’t work out so now I can move the hell on. But damn she felt so good pressed up against me. She was a perfect fit. She was meant for me and if she could take a long hard fuck, I would be perfect for her. She wouldn’t be into it. She deserves better than what I have to offer. Hell, I don’t even know what all I have to offer. I was more than willing to explore with her, but now I know I’d just fuck it up. It took too much out of me to keep up that charade. I could never do it over an extended amount of time and she’s too sweet and innocent for my bullshit.
I just need to cut my losses and move the fuck on from this. At some point, I’ll want to dominate her and spank her until she comes. No way in hell would I be able to hide that. Jesus, help her if she ever saw that side of me. She’ll do more than run out of my office, she’d run and never look back. No, this ends now. I can’t see her again—ever. I take the picture of her I’ve been carrying around in my briefcase and run it through the shredder.
Out of sight out of mind.
I go to bed, but in the back of my mind, I know I’m full of shit.
I tossed and turned all night so getting any work done is useless today. I nodded off three times looking over a ten-million-dollar sale. Now she’s getting in the way of my money and I haven’t even seen her today. I need to make it a point not to see her. I call down to Carol Stream telling her Sharon has full authority to sign any and all packages on my behalf. And that’s that.
Two Weeks Later
I managed not to think much about her these last couple of weeks. I’d say about every other minute of the day. I saw her coming out of the corner deli last Tuesday and I had to duck behind a telephone pole before she saw me. That gave a whole new meaning to fucking and ducking and I hadn’t even had the pleasure of fucking her. She was oblivious to the fact that I was watching and even more so to the fact that I hadn’t asked her out again. Did she even care that I hadn’t called her? Apparently not, by the swing she had in her step. There I was performing all kinds of acrobatics to avoid her and she was just not giving a shit.
Is she seeing someone else? Is that why she looked so fucking happy-go-lucky? There’s a lot of assholes hanging around the lower level. Maybe someone from security. I have to talk myself out of finding and firing the bastard.
My mood has been shitty and unfortunately for them, my staff has suffered for it. Half of my management team threatened to quit. Of course, they did it behind my back. If anyone had threatened me, I would have handed them their ass then their final paycheck.
Even though it’s Friday, I’m still not doing any better than I was last Tuesday. I really should find someone to fuck instead of wallowing in all this pent-up frustration. Hopefully, I can be left in peace for the rest of the day.
“Mr. Dixon, your father is on his way up to see you.” Sharon buzzes in.
So much for peace. He comes in and sits down looking very much like the college professor he is in his knitted sweater and matching slacks.
“How are you, son?”.
“I’m good, Dad, how about you?”
“All’s well on this end. I was just meeting up with some colleagues a few blocks over and thought I’d stop by. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“I know. I’ve just been busy.”
“I can understand that. I know it’s not easy building your boats, especially being hands-on like you are, but that’s part of my concern.”
“So, this isn’t a casual just stopping by kind of visit.”
“Your mother asked me to check on you. You know she worries about you being lonely.”
“I don’t have time to be lonely, Dad. This place takes up a lot of my time.”
“That’s part of the problem. We don’t want you working your life away. You should be out enjoying yourself.”
“Believe me, I do. I’m always out on the water surfing and I have a triathlon coming up next year.”
“That’s not exactly what I meant.”
“I know, Dad, but I’m good. I’m all for going out and having a good time.”
“With who?”
“No one in particular.”
“No one in particular, huh?”
“Just whoever’s around. I even played pool with Alex a few weeks ago. He cheats.”
“All right, I’m just going to cut to it. Why haven’t you met anyone?”
“I meet people. It’s not that easy to connect.”
“I know in this day and age with all this media socializing nonsense, it’s hard to build real relationships, but that’s all the more reason to put forth the effort.”
“It just hasn’t happened for me yet.”
“Or maybe you’re not willing to tell us about it. You know, your mother and I… we’re not that traditional and my students keep me hip to the game.” I try not to laugh because I know he’s serious, but nothing about my dad says he’s hip to the game unless it’s golf. “We’d be pleased with whomever it is as long as the person is worthy of you… man or woman. You don’t have to hide who you are. Look at your friend Lyle. He’s out.”
“I’m not in the closet, Dad.”
“Well, I’m just throwing stuff out there. FYI, I know a lot of very successful men, like yourself, who are single, some are about your age.”
“Are you trying to set me up?”
“Me? No, certainly not. I just hope you know that we want you to be happy with your life. If you are homosexual—”
“I’m not.”
“Right. All I’m saying is that your mother and I aren’t here to judge. Love is love as they say and you’re at a pivotal age. We just don’t want you to look back and regret spending all your time alone. No one wants to put ‘I wish I’d spent more time at work’ on their gravestone. It’s time to start thinking about settling down and starting a family.”
“Do you have these impromptu tete-a-tetes with Alex? He’s older than I am, you know?”
“I do and he’s just as bad as you are—worse. At the rate you two are going, Myra will be our only hope for grandkids and you know that doesn’t sit too well with me.”
“Of course not.” I laugh at him not liking the idea of Myra being sexually active but is more than ok with Alex and me doing the deed.
My phone rings, reminding me of a meeting.
“I’ll let you get back to it,” he says. “Your mother’s requesting to see you. Do me a favor and take her up on one of her dinner invitations, will you, son? It’ll do her good to see you.”
“Is something wrong with Mom?”
“No, I didn’t mean to sound so ominous. She’s just the sentimental love of my life who misses her offspring. She wants to feed you.”
“I’ll be over to see her soon.”
By the end of the day, I’m completely wound up and I’m not looking forward to a whole weekend alone so instead, I call Desdemona for a girl to fuck.
“I need her pain level to be extremely high,” I tell her.
> I was exposed to sex early and on a regular basis because of my brother. He didn’t feel the need to keep the shit he did with girls confined to his bedroom. I’d constantly walk in on him in the basement or out in secluded spots on the grounds with his ass out fucking some chick and I wanted to experience that.
In walked Alana Snyder. She was a cheerleader wannabe that had been passed around to every guy on the football team. I thought she’d be an easy fuck but she ended up fucking me over. One bad hook up with that bitch and I was labeled the “attempted rapist” that girls needed to stay away from. I admit I was overzealous and maybe a little more aggressive than what was considered normal, but testosterone hit me fucking hard. After she got done running her mouth, no girl would come near me. Needless to say, I was horny and frustrated.
Thank God for Alex and his porno-watching ass. If I’d never run across one of the downloads he had on his computer, I would never have known about kinky sex. When I saw that video, a whole new playing field opened up for me and I could not only play the game; I could be its MVP. The only problem was it wasn’t easy finding girls my age who were into that sort of thing. They’d barely take a dick in their mouths without getting grossed out. I had no choice but to go to Alex for help. The minute he came home for summer break that year, I brought it up. Once he got past the initial shock of me wanting to explore that type of sex, he was all for it.
He knew of one girl that was into it, Hillary Jones. She was the one who first told him to download the scene so that he’d see what it was all about. He was hesitant to introduce us at first because she was his age, which meant if Mom and Dad found out, she’d be arrested for corrupting a minor, but I convinced him to let me talk to her.
When she told me she was a Domme and not a submissive, I could see why Alex passed on her. We’re both alphas, but I was willing to curtail that shit for sex, no problem. Hillary was good. I didn’t get to fuck her. She had her sights set on Alex and no way was she going to mess that up by fucking his kid brother, but she took me under her wing. She taught me how to be a Dom. She showed me all about pleasure and punishment. She gave me extensive lessons on toys and how to use them to get the desired effect. I found out that there was a whole community out there and one very convincing fake I.D got me in. I was in goddamn heaven. I finally felt like I found a place I belong. She and I would go to all the clubs and hot spots. My first time was in the basement of a nightclub.
Hillary and her clique had gotten me so arrogant; I was beyond ready to Dom a sub. I managed to snag a girl away from a prick who’d been trying to do a scene with her that whole night. She was sexy as hell. Fresh off the plane from Spain, she had an accent that made my balls tingle. She was 23 and a very experienced submissive. The things she let me do to her and the way she followed my commands doing what I told her to do to me had me coming so hard it hurt, it was so good.
After learning all I could from Hillary, I moved up the ladder, learning from more experienced Doms and Dommes who taught me all about controlling with finesse, pushing limits, and knowing when it was enough long before any sub had to tell me.
I got a reputation around the clubs and started scening regularly with girls. I’ve had a few under contract but I never took on a long-term sub. I didn’t want shit to get messy. I wanted nothing to come between me and my orgasms so I just fucked a few times and then I was on to the next one.
After college, I spent a few years lifeguarding at Huntington Beach until a talent scout saw me and I bagged a leading role on Bay-Hot. Dad would joke how he could’ve kept the money he spent for my business degree when all I had to do was show my abs to make a living. When Bay-Hot was canceled, I partnered with Alex and we used our inheritance as the startup capital for Deuce Dixon.
Every summer we’d race yachts. We always said we’d design our own and we’ve made a fucking killing. The secret is to use a lot of Dom techniques to get what we want out of our suppliers. We use the same technique when dealing with movie producers who want to use our yachts in their films. You’d be surprised at how many pussies are hiding underneath overpriced suits just waiting to be dominated.
I’ve made millions hanging out on boats, doing what I love. It was smooth sailing until I made the mistake of scaring little Miss Reagan Montgomery, who happened upon my office one day and completely fucked me up.
Now, Madame Desdemona assures me she can supply me with what I need for tonight.
“Find one with hazel eyes,” I instruct her before hanging up.
That should do the trick.
“See anything you like?” Chloe signs after she brings me back my second Brandy Old Fashioned for this evening and sets it in front of me at our table.
“Besides these drinks? Nothing,” I sign before pulling the top of my dress up, wiggling around to get it higher up my chest.
I’m supposed to be some badass biker chick but I don’t know how anyone can breathe in all this leather. It’s making my boobs sweat.
“You’re so picky, Reagan. We’re supposed to be out meeting guys, so lower your standards a little bit.”
I just twirl the ice cube in my glass. How can I possibly lower my standards when I’m so clear about what I want? I want a man with similar traits to my dad. A no-nonsense guy who takes care of what’s his. I want a man who’s not afraid to take control when he needs to. He has to respect me as his equal partner, but I want to be taken care of both emotionally and physically and I’m not ashamed to admit it. Chloe doesn’t like the idea of a guy taking care of her but I don’t know what’s so wrong with it. She can wear the pants in her relationship and be a Domme if that’s what she wants; fine with me. I’m going to find my perfect man or die trying.
I thought Mr. Dixon had a lot of what I wanted in a man. The way he took control and dominated me when I had that panic attack still has me dreaming about who I thought he was. He made me go completely submissive. I was so sure he was a Dom, but our date proved he was just a nice guy when the pressures of work are off him. I should have known he was too good to be true. Not that I’m the world’s best. Maybe Chloe’s right. Maybe I’m just too picky. I’m going to give this a try. May as well. I’m already here.
“Let’s split up,” I sign to her. “Maybe these guys will approach us once we’re alone.”
She nods and heads over to the bar. Sure enough, as soon as she walks away, one comes and sits down next to me. I want to roll my eyes at him. Nothing about this guy screams Dom. If I wanted to, I’m pretty sure I could dominate him instead. Still, I’ll give him a chance to convince me to do a scene with him.
I hope this isn’t the guy that Madame Desdemona just told me about. Evidently, some Dom was requesting a girl that fit my description. He even specified hazel eyes. What kind of weirdo is that? I told her no, of course. There wasn’t a chance I was going to go down in the basement with Hazel-Eyed Fetish Guy. He’d probably try to gouge mine out or something. What a weird thing to be attracted to. It sounds like some type of Criminal Minds crazy to me.
I wag a mental finger at myself because I’ve been obsessing over a certain Mr. Haunting Dark Eyes for weeks now. I shake my head of all Reed thoughts as I try to be a nice little sub for what’s his name over here. I put my phone in Chloe’s bag for safe-keeping because there’s no way I’m even going to attempt to communicate with this guy tonight.
Sampson pulls up on Niguel Road in front of the Barfly club. I plan on drinking tonight so I’ve asked him to be my driver. The Barfly is the larger one of Desdemona’s two clubs. It’s right in the heart of Laguna Niguel and it looks like a country club to the unsuspecting residents in the area.
I make my way through, wondering why the hell it’s so crowded tonight. It’s not the usual weekend traffic. It looks like one of those new member’s night promotions that Desdemona is so hell-bent on having. They end up being just a bunch of limp dick wannabes trying to play Dom when they don’t know a flogger from a Fi
at. I feel sorry for the girls who need a true dominant to be stuck with these losers.
Everyone’s dressed in some type of shitty biker club getup. The brand-new leather jackets and motorcycle goggles these pricks have on are laughable.
“Shit.”
A blonde is getting off her bar stool and backs into me. I catch her before she stumbles over and stand her upright.
“Chloe? What in the hell are you doing in here?” It hits me that if she’s in here then that roommate of hers is most likely to be with her. “Is Reagan with you?”
“Hi, yeah, she’s here. What’re you doing in here? Reagan’s going to flip her lid. Oh, my God, are you a Dom?”
She tries to whisper the last part like it’s a secret. Reagan’s in here. I can’t fucking believe this shit. Do they know what type of club this is? They must know. You have to be a damn member to get in here.
“Where is she?”
Her head turns to where she most likely last left Reagan and I follow her stare. I plant Chloe firmly back on her barstool.
“Wait here,” I tell her, leaving no room for her to disagree with me.
As I get closer to the table, I see Reagan and she almost knocks me out as good as she looks tonight. Her hair is down: full and thick, cut in a style that frames her face. Damn, my fingers are itching to be tangled up in it.
Too busy looking at her, I barely notice she’s sitting with some limp dick fucking son of a bitch that’s trying his damnedest to dominate her.
I can’t believe this shit.
Chapter Seven
This night is not going well at all. This guy is a complete moron who wouldn’t know how to get me to submit to him if his life depended on it. What I wouldn’t give for Reed to be a Dom. He would be great at it. Maybe if I told him about the lifestyle. He might like it. After all, he’s a control freak at work. Maybe he wouldn’t mind controlling me in the bedroom. Who am I kidding? He’d probably think I was crazy.
