I stand back and look at all of these beautiful women. These are some of Marco’s subs. And he took all of them. Something tugs at my mind. I recognize something in the pictures. I bring my face to look at them more closely. That bed! That’s Marco’s bed in all of these portraits. The same one he’s been making love to me in.
Six of them…then mine…me… I’m lucky number seven.
I’m just the latest sub in his little collection.
The realization washes over me and pulls me in, drowning me in the reality. How could I be so stupid? How can I even slightly expect to compete with these women? I am nothing compared to them. They are erotic, sultry, beautiful and are experienced in this world. And to think I was falling in love with him, giving him my heart, and why? He was just using me for his pleasure, probably laughing at my naiveté, what a fool I am. How could I ever think I could mean anything to a man like that? I’ve let myself be used again.
Oh, I don’t think so, I think as anger begins to rise within me. If he thinks I am just part of a collection, just a plaything, he’s got another think coming to him. I believe I’ll show him how huge the mistake is he’s made.
I go to his bedroom, dragging the box of portraits with me and I turn on his music system and blast 30 Seconds to Mars’s Bury Me, hitting repeat. It’s time to get busy. I’ve got work to do.
Once I’m home I’m pacing the floor like a caged animal. Alanis Morissette’s very pissed off voice is shouting You Oughta Know and I’m right there with her. I’ve passed being hurt, confused, livid and now I’m finally calm. I need to talk to someone about this, someone who is familiar with the other side of the story, someone who knows the needs, expectations and desires of that type of relationship. Someone who will be honest and unbiased with me.
I’ll call John.
I take the card out of my wallet he gave me that first day at the gym. I take a cleansing breath before dialing, not because I’m nervous about calling him but to chase away any residual anger and pain from finding the portraits. I want my mind to be clear and my emotions to be intact so that I can be rational.
“Hello?” His voice is a little tentative. I guess he’s wondering if he should have answered the phone. I know I wouldn’t have if I didn’t recognize the number.
“Hi, John, it’s Elizabeth.” Now I’m worried if I should drag him into this. I don’t want to present this like a girl finding out about her boyfriend’s other girlfriends. What I want is to get some understanding into a Dom/sub relationship because that’s what it looked like those portraits represented. I know I’m taking a shot in the dark with John. But everything about him, all things very similar to Marco, his demeanor, the powerful confidence that oozes dark sexuality, the gaze that penetrates and commands a woman to want to submit leaving her melting, leads me to believe he is a Dominant.
“Hi, Elizabeth, are you okay? Is everything all right?” It’s obvious my unexpected phone call has raised alarm bells in him.
“Yes, everything is fine, John. I was wondering if we could have lunch or something today. I have some questions and you’re the only person I trust who I think would have answers to them.”
“Of course, just tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”
He’s a good guy, no questions, no hesitancy. I told him I needed him and he agreed even though I’m practically a stranger to him. His generosity melts away any reservations I might have.
“How about The Little Dipper downtown? They have booths, which could give us some privacy. One o’clock okay with you?” I ask nervously chewing on my thumbnail.
“I’ll be there. And Elizabeth?”
“Yes?”
“I’m glad you called.” I can hear genuine appreciation in his voice.
“Me too, John, thank you. See you later.” I smile at him although he can’t see me.
“See you in a little bit. Bye.”
I believe this is going to be an interesting lunch.
I glance at my watch. It’s ten o’clock. I know Marco will be home soon. In fact I’m surprised he hasn’t called me yet. As if on cue my phone beeps with a text.
Good morning baby, are you up yet?
What do I do? Do I act like nothing is different? Is something different? What’s different? Was I something to him besides a plaything? I need to buy some time. The question first is do I answer him.
Tick tock.
What do I do?
I finally make a decision.
Yes I’m home. Talk to you later.
Why are you home? Is something wrong?
How much do I tell him by text? He’ll find out soon enough when he gets home. Right now I need some time to sort out my thoughts and get information so I can understand the situation more clearly. And I can’t get unbiased information from Marco. To be honest, I don’t know if I can face him right now after seeing those pictures and envisioning him doing those things and being with those women. And the worst thing is I can’t help thinking there’s no way I can measure up to them.
We’ll talk later.
What the fuck Elizabeth?
Just stop. Later.
He’s calling me, but I can’t talk to him now, not until he sees everything so I let the call go to voicemail.
I hate it when you do this Elizabeth! I’m coming over.
I’ve got three hours before I meet John but I can’t stay here.
I call Elsie; she’s closest.
“Elsie, are you busy? I need to hang there for a couple of hours.”
“Yeah, girl, of course, come on over. Is everything okay?”
“I’ll tell you when I get there. I just have to get out of my place right now before Marco gets here. I’m on my way.” I’m already out the door before I even hang up.
I decide to leave my car here so he can’t see it wherever I’m at. I need this talk with him to be on my terms when I’m ready, not his.
Elsie has the mismatched antique tea set out and ready when I get there. She can tell I’m upset and the familiarity of our tea time will help calm me. She knew this and I love her for that. Before I even get seated she’s on me.
“What the fuck is going on, Liz?”
So much for keeping me calm.
I settle into her gypsy couch and pour myself a coup of the Earl Grey tea I smell in the little porcelain pot.
Taking in a deep breath, I tell her what I found and what I did.
“Now I’m going to meet John for lunch in a couple of hours so that, hopefully, he can give me some insight to that type of lifestyle so I can determine if that is what Marco has been setting me up for.”
Elsie lets out a whooshing breath before she says, “Girl, holy shit, did you freak?”
“Yeah, I freaked! But I’m calm now and I don’t want to talk to Marco until I have all of the information I need. And I don’t want to get it from him.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know much about it except from what I’ve read but watching Marco with you, he is totally into you; he practically worships the ground you walk on. The way he watches you, Elizabeth? I don’t think that kind of relationship is what this thing is with you two.”
I look into her face. “El, one of the women in those portraits was the redhead who was with Marco at the party. She works with him.”
The bomb has officially dropped along with Elsie’s face.
“Fuck!” If there could be a silent shout that was it.
I’m already at The Little Dipper waiting when John arrives. The hostess knows I’m meeting a big sexy Indian-looking man so I’m sure she’ll have no trouble finding me when he arrives, and there is no way she’ll miss John. My nerves are wound up, and I couldn’t sit in that little apartment with Elsie any longer. There wasn’t any more I could tell her other than what I already had and I didn’t want to dissect everything again.
Marco has called me about ten times and has sent just as many text messages and they’re all about the same as the one I just received.
Elizabeth, let
me explain, where are you? Don’t do this.
He’s obviously gotten home and has seen my little redesigning and then he must have gone directly to my place.
Marco
Brian and I have finally finished up what we had to discuss. Between what he’s heard and what I was told, it is very evident which direction the trail points to regarding who’s responsible for trying to sabotage me and my company. Sabotage. That’s exactly what it is and I’m not going to let it happen. I’m torn between wanting to fucking kill the person responsible for it and wanting to say everything’s fine. I know who it is, but because of who it is I have to put it in other hands.
Fortunately it’s Sunday. These types of communications, as I’ve learned throughout the years having dealt with quite a diverse variety of contacts, are most often best handled in a more relaxed and informal way.
I call the councilman while we are at Port City Java and he joins us for some coffee. Having money does have its advantages and knowing when best to use it is a talent. As it turns out, the councilman has a little information of his own. It seems he has a promising career ahead of him. It’s so good having friends in high places.
By the time I get back to the condo, I know something is very wrong before I even get off the elevator. I can hear the music blaring as I am coming up from the lower levels. Whatever it is, Elizabeth is pissed.
I open the door to Jared Leto screaming at me in Bury Me, “I am finished with you!” and I enter hesitantly wondering what the fuck I did. On my way to the bedroom I stop short when I see them. How did she find them? She must have been looking for hers and looked a little further in the closet.
Elizabeth has hung all the portraits of my former subs from the canopy of my bed, dangling as if the bed is a shrine to them. And there in the middle hanging from the top of the bed in the center is hers. But she’s done some work to it. I slowly step closer, cringing at the sight of it as I do.
She’s painted a clown face over hers with big red lips and a bright red nose, and makeup around the eyes exaggerating her eyelashes. She’s written across the front of it, “I will not be your latest toy!”
I’m shocked she could even think that’s how I feel about her. I wasn’t the only one there each time we were together. I have never treated her like that, never given her any reason to question where she stands with me, where we stand together. Yes, it’s fucked up I have these in my apartment after I had one made of her, but it’s not the same kind at all. It’s obvious just looking at them. Those were purely for the image of kink. I did Elizabeth’s because I wanted to look at her all the time in the throes of our passion, our lovemaking. It makes my soul sing gazing at her in that moment, just like I told her when I took the pictures.
She won’t answer my calls or my texts. Her car’s at her apartment and it’s cold, which tells me she hasn’t driven it. So she’s either with someone or she’s close because she’s walking.
The one thing that keeps me sane is the fact that Elizabeth is a mature and reasonable woman. I know she’ll let me explain when she’s ready…I hope.
My phone vibrates and I pull it out of my pocket. It’s John.
I’m having lunch with Elizabeth.
What the fuck?! Why?
She called me.
The images of her body responding to his closeness fill my already blazing mind. And my imagination begins to see her writhing under him as he fucks her. Oh God, no!
Elizabeth
“Hi John, thanks for meeting me on such short notice.”
I’m a little nervous regardless of how comfortable he makes me feel. His dominant presence commands attention, stirring something hot and sultry inside. He also has a kind face beneath all of that strength and the hints of the shadows of past pains and demons.
He slides into the booth across from me wearing camo pants and a white thermal shirt. The man is a walking sex god. There is nothing he can do to hide it. Every woman in this place turns to look at him regardless of whether they are twenty or seventy.
“Hey Elizabeth, it sounded pretty serious. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just needed an opinion from someone like you. Let’s order first then we can talk.”
After the poor waitress takes our order, she could barely speak with so much man in front of her, I take a deep breath and dive in.
“I need you to tell me from a man’s, preferably a Dom’s, perspective the logistics of a Dom/sub relationship.” If that isn’t matter-of-fact, I’m Little Bunny Froo Froo.
His eyebrow quirks at my request but he quickly regains composure. Good for him.
“Well, typically in that type of relationship it’s entered into from the beginning with both partners knowing that is the type of relationship it will be. The expectations would be gone over right from the start as well, such as if there will be bondage, pain, what types, sharing, multiple partners, and if it’s just sexual. Sometimes there isn’t even sex. Some people look for someone to tie them up or whip them because that’s all they want.”
He pauses and studies my face for a moment as I’m taking this in and weighing the information to see where Marco and I would fit into this scenario.
I bring my face closer to his across the table.
“So, correct me if I’m wrong, but if a Dom is looking for a sub or has found someone who he would like to begin that type of relationship with, they would discuss it almost like a business transaction with all of the details before they even start?”
“Yes, most often it’s just like that, if that is what the relationship is going to be. Never will a good Dom seduce a woman then change the relationship into a slave/sub thing. It would be misleading and would be too messy. There are too many other factors to concentrate on in that situation.”
I sit quietly turning this over in my mind and everything John’s saying is not fitting what Marco and I have. But I have to ask the million-dollar question.
“John, I need you to be honest with me, and you can ask me anything you’d like to determine your answer but I need your opinion.”
“Okay.” His expression is emotionless.
“Do you think Marco intends for this thing between him and me to be a Dom/sub relationship?”
“First of all, you should be asking him that…”
“I know and I will but I want to ask you as a Dom, and as a friend.”
“Second, why do you ask that?”
I blush, averting my eyes to look down at the table.
“Well, we have played in the bedroom, toys, bondage, that sort of thing.”
“That doesn’t mean anything, Elizabeth. It’s just exactly that, going beyond the traditional vanilla sex, adding a little kink for pleasure.” He pauses for a moment. “Look at me, Elizabeth.”
Another dominant assertive man who commands control. I look into his eyes.
“Just looking at the facts, the way Marco is with you, he has an emotional investment. Meaning he cares about you. If what he wants with you is a Dom/sub relationship, yes, he would be concerned about your wellbeing, but it would be more just physical.” Another pause as he searches my face. “The guy is fucking crazy about you. How could he not be? That day with Santino, he was a madman thinking you’d been hurt. That should tell you what you need to know.” He sits back waiting for me to say something.
The waitress comes to the table with our fondue pot and dippers.
“Let’s eat. I bet this is just going to be a snack for a big guy like you.”
He laughs at my remark about his appetite and his hugeness.
My mood is much lighter. I feel like the dark clouds have cleared. But I know I still have to clean up the mess after that storm waiting for me at Marco’s.
My phone has continued to vibrate in my bag the whole time John and I are at lunch. I feel a little bad for avoiding him the way I have. I just needed time and information. I know I’m ready to face him now.
Marco
She won’t answer my calls. She won’t ret
urn my texts. I have got to get her to let me explain. Even if she never wants to see me again because of my fucked-upness I can’t let her leave me thinking that’s all she was to me, a plaything. I have not had feelings for a woman in years, and even then I don’t think I felt about her the way I do about Elizabeth. Elizabeth makes me feel that I can be happy, fully, completely and totally happy, not just with her but with life, with me, with tomorrow and forever. She makes me feel that anything and everything is possible. And if I’ve hurt her, I know that I’ve hurt her, but if I can at least make her see that she is so much more, that she has made life worth living for me, I’ll understand if she has to walk away from someone like me but I can’t let her go until I make her understand.
And knowing she could be with John right now and the things they could be doing is hell. The waiting is killing me. Each minute is torturous, going on and on and on. Every time my phone dings or every time I think I hear something outside my door I practically jump out of my skin. I want to kick myself for unpacking those damn pictures. Why the fuck did I do that?
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