Taming Me

by Alexandrea Weis

  “You’re learning,” he finally voiced, with a sly smile.

  I fidgeted in my seat. “Why did you let her touch you? You never let me touch you.”

  “She’s not my sub…you are.” He stood from the car and shut the door.

  Watching his strong body move around the front of the car, a tingle of desire rose between my legs. Wanting him was becoming a normal response with me. Like Pavlov’s dogs, I would get hot and bothered every time he drew near.

  When he climbed into the driver’s seat, I turned to him. “You do realize that I can’t be your sub, or slave, or whatever you want to call me. I never signed up for that. We’ve never discussed contracts or had an agreement to have that kind of relationship. This is about research and my book or books, as it’s turning into.”

  He placed his key in the ignition and turned over the engine. “Then we should discuss terms. What do you want to be my sub?”

  I was taken aback by the question. I wanted Garrett; there was no question about that. Was I ready to be a part of his world?

  “You want me to be your sub?”

  “I haven’t been training you for the fun of it, Lexie.” He pulled into the street. “I want you to be mine.”

  His. The word sent a shiver through me. “Which means what exactly?”

  “You submit to me, submit to my desires, my needs, want only to please me, and offer to be at my beck and call. The only thing that will matter to you, from now on, is me. All I need is for you to agree.”

  “No,” I adamantly replied. “Not a possibility. I’m a writer, Garrett, and my writing will always come first. If I’m in the middle of a book, I will not stop to cater to your needs.”

  “It’s just a book, Lexie.”

  I was dumbfounded. “But it’s my book, my idea, my story, and it will not be swept aside for you or any other man!”

  I could see the coldness taking over his features, which meant he was playing hardball.

  “This is not negotiable,” he griped.

  “My creativity is not subject to your demands, Garrett. I’m a free thinker, and I’m not going to be pushed around. You want me, you get all of me; that includes the parts you have no control over.” I doggedly folded my arms over my chest. “Don’t ask me to choose between you and my writing. You’ll lose.”

  He stared at me for a moment then returned his eyes to the road. I got the impression that he had never come across such a dilemma. My mother was right…he was a thinker, and had been plotting out his next move with me. To keep me under his thumb and hold me to him was his plan, but he had forgotten the one thing about a writer…we can never be stifled.

  “When I make a contract with a sub the only contingencies that are allowed are for emergencies, family, and in some situations the women I have been with have been on call and had to leave during our play.”

  “Who was the woman who taught you about that painter?”

  “Melody. We’ll discuss her another time. I guess I could allow for your creative endeavors. Especially since you will be telling my story, but I will need some guarantees that you will set aside a certain amount of time for me.”

  I carefully considered his proposal. “If I agree to all of your terms, how do you usually seal the deal? With a handshake, or is something more involved?”

  The car motored down Wisner Boulevard along the outskirts of City Park, heading back toward Esplanade Avenue. “We can talk about that later. For now, let’s just work on the details of us.”

  Us. It had an odd ring to it, yet somewhere in my gut it felt right. Would handing myself completely over to Garrett make me happy? I figured I had the same chance as any other girl. Besides, it wasn’t the rules of a relationship that lifted your heart, it was the man.

  “There are some things I need to know. Intimacies, we must settle,” he continued.

  Intimacies? I braced myself. That did not sound good.

  “Birth control for starters. Are you on any, or do I need to take care of that?”

  I twisted my hands together. This was getting serious. “My doctor put me on the pill last year. My periods were real irregular. He said it would help.”

  He slowly nodded. “Have you ever been tested? AIDS, hepatitis, venereal diseases?”

  An uncomfortable shudder ripped through me. “After my marriage ended, and I found out that Sid was screwing around, I got tested for everything.”

  “How many men have there been since Sid?”

  That question got to me. I wasn’t ashamed of the fact that I had basically lived like a nun since my divorce. Still, telling Garrett that made me nervous as hell.

  “Is that really any of your concern?”

  “Answer the question, Lexie,” he rumbled.

  “There was only one guy, not long after the divorce.”

  “One guy?” He appeared surprised. “I’m glad to see you’re not one of those women who go out and sleep with a bunch of men to get back at her ex.”

  I glanced out the passenger window of the car. “I’m not a whore, Garrett.”

  “I’ve never thought you were, Lexie. Far from it.” Garrett waved his hand to the back seat. “I almost forgot. There’s your gown for the party.”

  I twisted around and spotted a long black bag hanging from a handle above the back door. “Where did you get it?”

  “There’s a designer, with a small shop on Prytania Street, I often do business with. I called her yesterday and told her what I wanted. She put a rush on it for me.”

  “How do you know it will fit?”

  He grinned. “It’ll fit.”

  I arched an eyebrow at him. “Was this designer one of your subs?”

  He stretched his arm over the black leather steering wheel. “No, Cassidy went to design school with my sister, Becky.”

  “Your sister?” I sat back in my seat. “Where is Becky now?”

  “Dallas. She designs dresses for a few local stores there. She’s building quite a brand name.” The pride was evident in his smile.

  “Does she know about you and your…ways?”

  He turned the car onto Esplanade Avenue, crossing the bridge over Bayou St. John. “Becky knows. My oldest sister, Corrine, knows too. Corrine never approved, but Becky was always more open-minded.”

  “What does Corrine do?”

  “She’s a professor of fine arts at UT in Austin. Her husband, Jay, teaches history there. They have two daughters, Lindsey and Michelle. They’re a handful.” He lightly laughed as he peered out to the road ahead. “Every Christmas they always buy me the ugliest ties you’ve ever seen. I think they enjoy seeing my reaction when I open their gifts.”

  Hearing him talk about his family only made how he acted at times difficult to understand. There were so many sides to him. Maybe all people were that way. They only allowed snippets of themselves to be revealed, waiting for time and trust to uncover a deeper glimpse into the facets of their souls.

  * * *

  After returning to my apartment, we retrieved the Chinese food from the refrigerator and sat at my breakfast bar, eating out of the white paper cartons. Garrett was lifting noodles and pork from a carton with chopsticks, appearing quite adept. While I was munching on an egg roll, he motioned to the black dress bag he had draped over my sofa.

  “Don’t you want to see your dress?”

  I glimpsed the bag, not feeling too enthused. I had reservations of what Garrett had picked out for me, with images of black leather draped with silver chains taunting me.

  “I’ll look at it after I eat.” I took another bite from my egg roll.

  “I’d prefer for you to look at it now.”

  I put my egg roll down on a paper towel and wiped my hands together. “Are you insisting or commanding, because it’s really hard to tell with you.”

  “Which one is going to get you to look at the dress?”

  Emboldened by his question, I gazed into his riveting eyes. “You really need to work on incorporating please into your vocabulary.”


  He leaned over to me, grinned, and waited for a second or two before he answered, “Never going to happen. Go and look at the dress…that’s an order.”

  “You….” I let the flurry of obscenities I wanted to hurl at him die on my lips. How could I expect anything less from him? Scooting off my stool, I gave him one last nasty smirk, and then went to the sofa.

  As I slowly lowered the zipper on the garment bag, I became intrigued. It wasn’t the shine of black leather that peeked out, but the soft and inviting texture of dark hunter green velvet. My excitement rose as I removed the dress from the protective bag, completely overcome by what I found.

  The evening gown had a square neckline with wide straps, a raised waistline that sat right below the bust, and was beaded with small crystals that sparkled in the light. The fabric flowed down from the waist and was not heavy like real velvet. It was more like velveteen. Light and airy, the dress held the promise of making me feel graceful.

  “Garrett, this is beautiful.”

  He spun around on his stool, holding his carton of pork and noodles in one hand and his chopsticks in the other. “Put it on. I want to see how it fits.”

  “It might be a little big. Everything is always big on me,” I remarked, figuring it would probably need some adjustments.

  He motioned to my bedroom door with his chopsticks. “Just try it on, Lexie.”

  Skipping to my bedroom, I lovingly carried the gown in my arms. Once inside, I laid the dress on the bed and was about to go back to shut my bedroom door when I stopped. Why bother? The man had seen all there was to see of my body. Returning to the bed, I quickly shimmied out of my jeans and top, slipped off my bra, and reached for the dress. I had just eased up the zipper in the back, and was going to the bathroom to take a look in the mirror, when I realized the gown not only fit, it felt as if it had been fitted to my body.

  “I was right,” he affirmed from the doorway. Folding his arms over his chest as he leaned against the frame, he added, “It’s you.”

  “Garrett, this dress fits me better than my wedding gown did. How did you? I mean how—?”

  “I know your body. I told Cassidy what to do to make it fit you.”

  Never before had a man said such a thing to me, let alone proved it. Even my marriage to Sid had never been filled with the intimacies I shared with Garrett. I doubted Sid had ever learned what size dress I wore, much less ordered one to fit me like a glove.

  Garrett eased into my room. “There is one thing missing.”

  As he approached, he reached into his dark blue trouser pocket and then held his hand in front of me. There, shimmering in the half-light of my bedroom, was a necklace of diamonds.

  “It’s a collar. I figured you needed a better one than the white leather.” He stood behind me and wrapped the jeweled collar about my neck.

  The cool touch of his hands against my neck sent darts of desire plummeting to my groin.

  When he stood back, I raised my hand to the stones. “Go take a look,” he insisted, gesturing to the bathroom.

  Picking up the skirt of the dress, I dashed into my bathroom and gazed at my reflection in the small vanity mirror. The deep green color of the dress contrasted beautifully against my creamy skin, while necklace added a real zing to the whole outfit. I felt like a princess.

  “I like it,” my prince said from the bathroom doorway.

  “It’s too much, Garrett.”

  He tilted his head slightly to the side, inspecting me. “No, you need to be stunning tomorrow night. Everyone needs to believe that you’re mine.” He paused and lowered his gaze to the white tile on my bathroom floor. “No matter what happens tomorrow night, no matter what you may see, you can never appear shocked or afraid. Everyone must think you are used to such events.”

  “What’s going to happen?”

  A speck of worry flashed and then vanished from his eyes. “Nothing. It’s just a party.”

  Garrett walked out of the bedroom, leaving me to change. As I put the gown on my bed, the warning he had given me kept repeating in my head. What should I expect at this party?

  When I returned to the living room, Garrett was putting the Chinese food cartons back in my refrigerator. It was then I noticed how his highbrow was scrunched together, as if he was deep in thought.

  “I should get going,” Garrett proposed, clapping his hands together.

  “You’re leaving?”

  “Of course. You have your book to write, and I have paperwork to do for the office.” He went around the breakfast bar and toward my front door.

  I quickly followed him. “Okay, I just thought that….”

  He turned to me. “That what? We would spend the evening together?”

  I shrugged. “Well, yeah.”

  “That’s what couples do, Lexie. We’re not a couple. Not yet. If you agree to become my sub, that will change.” He opened the door, gazing down at my jeans. “I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow night.” Without so much as a kiss or even a second-glance, Garrett walked out my front door.

  After locking the door, I leaned against it. “How in the hell do I write myself out of this one?”

  Day 9

  At precisely eight o’clock the downstairs buzzer to the main entrance clamored throughout my apartment. I hit the button on the speaker by the door and waited to hear Garrett’s footfalls on the landing. When I heard him approaching, I pulled my door open right as he stepped in front of me.

  His tuxedo was fitted to perfection about his lean waist and wide shoulders. The touch of shiny black silk on his lapels and down the side of his trousers caught the light from the chandelier above. He had slicked back his wavy hair, and the usual dark stubble on his cheeks and jaw were gone. His musky cologne, and the way his tuxedo clung to his body, made my knees go weak.

  “I’m glad you put your hair up.” He motioned to my juvenile attempt at a twist. “I like your hair up.” His eyes perused the rest of my outfit. “The color suits you.”

  I ran my hands down the ultra-soft velveteen material. “Yes, it’s a lovely dress. It will be hard to part with.”

  “Part with? What are you talking about?” He came in my door.

  I watched his back as he walked into my living room. “When you return it to that designer friend of yours. It’s a loan, right?”

  “The dress is for you, Lexie. We may have other parties to attend at the club, and you’ll need something nice.”

  My hand went to the diamond collar about my neck. “And this?”

  “A rental.” He grinned at me. “It goes back Monday. I’m an architect, not a millionaire.”

  I let out a long breath. “Whew, that’s good.”

  “Why? Don’t you want diamonds?”

  I shook my head. “No. Things have never interested me, and especially not jewelry. I’m not like my mother.”

  He came up to me. “I never thought you were.”

  “Sid did.” I let out a mocking chuckle. “He always told me that I was just like her because he thought I wanted him to make money. What I really wanted was for him to help pay the bills.”

  “I think your ex-husband never understood you. If he had, he would never have left.”

  “Maybe he left because he did understand me. Probably why I’m almost thirty and still alone.” I went to the bench by the door and picked up my black purse. “My mother always swore I would end up alone.”

  “She’s wrong, Lexie. You won’t be alone.”

  I gauged the faint light of affection in his eyes. “How can you be so sure?”

  He never answered and moved closer. “Do you have a wrap? It’s rather chilly out.”

  I had to think what was in my closet for an instant. Living in jeans and T-shirts had its disadvantages when it came to dressing up. You tended to fall out of practice.

  Putting my purse down, I mumbled, “I have something.”

  Disappearing into my bedroom, I went to the tall dresser next to my bed. It took a few minutes of hunti
ng, but in the bottom drawer, packed away in tissue paper, I found a black lace shawl my mother had given me years ago. It complemented my dress perfectly. Draping the shawl around my shoulders, I walked into the living room and found Garrett sitting at my desk, his eyes glued to my laptop screen.

  I came up behind him, peering over his shoulder to see what had put him in such a trance. To my amazement, he was reading my manuscript. From what I could see, he was already well into the second chapter.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  He swerved around to me, wide-eyed. “I—I didn’t hear you, I was so engrossed in the story,” he confessed, gesturing back to the laptop.

  That made me smile. “Engrossed is good.”

  “It’s amazing, Lexie.” He stood from my desk chair. “I was enthralled from the first few sentences. I want to read more.”

  His style of ordering, instead of asking, must have been wearing me down. Usually, anyone other than Al wanting to read my manuscripts before they were finished was sent packing. Not Garrett; I wanted to share the book with him.

  “Of course you can read more,” I told him. “It’s your story, after all.”

  Placing his hands behind his back, he shook his head. “No, it’s your story. There may be elements of it that come from me, but the essence of it is you. The way you write, I can hear your voice, not mine.”

  “Thank you, Garrett. I think that is one of the best reviews I’ve ever had.”

  Taking my arm, he escorted me to the front door. “We don’t want to be late. The empress frowns on anyone being late to her parties.”

  I collected my black purse. “It’s a party; aren’t you supposed to be fashionably late?”

  He opened my front door, and then the worry I had seen in his eyes the night before resurfaced. “Not to this, Lexie. Tardiness to special parties is not tolerated at the De Sade Club.”

  * * *

  After Garrett’s dire warning, I was relieved when we entered the dark green parlor inside Mabel Bergeron’s home a few minutes before a rush of other guests flowed in. The furniture in the long, windowless room had been rearranged, with the wooden tables lined up against a far wall and the green-cushioned chairs set up in a circle around a square stage in the center of the room. On top of the stage was a Napoleon red velvet chaise. It was the same one I had seen Mabel seated on when I had first come to the club.