by Cynthia Dane
She didn’t stand a chance.
Her only friend there was Monica, who was busy throwing a party and entertaining the other dozen women there. Wives and daughters of CEOs, presidents, politicians, bankers, stock brokers, and anyone else who could claim to have millions of dollars in a bank account somewhere. Whatever they thought of Monica and her background, or the fact that she was pregnant before marriage, they minded themselves when in her presence, let alone in her home. For she was a Warren now, and that family had deep roots in the community. It also helped that Monica was a natural at entertaining and had the manners of a queen. Not like Jasmine, who fumbled with every word and action. Luckily, nobody wanted to pay attention to her. Her most interesting conversation came from a maid who sheepishly complimented her dress.
“These place settings are absolutely delightful,” said an older woman, one Francesca Blake. She was the wife of one of the wealthiest stock traders in America, let alone the region. Since she wasn’t into kink or often deigned to attend anyone’s parties, Jasmine didn’t see her around much. She was a country club woman, not a BDSM dungeon honey. I’d rather hang out with those people. At least they knew how to let loose, have fun, and cut a fucking joke. “Where are they from? Bavaria?”
“Almost close,” Monica chirped. “Tuscany. I found them on my honeymoon. They were hand painted by a man whose family have been doing it for over five-hundred years. The details are impeccable.”
“Ah,” Mrs. Blake was most pleased with this answer. Or at least she was good at faking it. Jasmine was still learning how to tell the difference. “I haven’t been to Italy in a good five years. Might be time to go again.”
To think, a few years ago Jasmine’s comeback would have been, “I’ve never been to Italy at all, so fuck off.” Since dating a man who loved Italy more than any other country, however, she had been a time or two already. Ethan even thought about buying a vacation home in Tuscany for them and their friends to use.
Even so, the tone of this woman’s voice nearly set her off. Jasmine was eternally grateful that Ethan didn’t come from a rich family and had made his own money. She didn’t think she could stand a whole brood of rich misfits. Her hippie parents were enough.
Halfway through the party, a late-comer arrived.
“Ms. Adrienne Thomas is here, madam,” said a butler in the doorway. “Should I show her in?”
The quiet conversation halted. Monica sat up in her seat and renewed her air of sophistication. “Yes, please do. I’m sure nobody will mind Ms. Thomas joining us a bit late, would they?”
The other women, even Mrs. Blake, shook their heads and then leaned in toward one another, hissing this and that until a feminine shadow appeared in the doorway.
“Sorry I’m so unfashionably late,” came a familiar voice. Liquid. Like the finest milk chocolate to ever grace Jasmine’s tongue – soft and creamy. She was both shocked and not surprised at all when a tall woman walked onto the patio, wearing an ivory high-waist dress and an equally impressive sunhat that shadowed the sharp angles of her otherwise feminine face. Chestnut hair was pulled back into a low twist on her head. The most dazzling thing, however, was the woman’s smile, which lit up the room with a good humor that Jasmine had yet to experience.
Her. It’s her. The woman she met in the elevator at Ethan’s office.
Adrienne Thomas? Why did that name sound so familiar?
Monica rose from her seat and was at the end of the table in time to officially greet Ms. Thomas. “Thank you so much for being able to join us. I know how busy you are.”
“Oh, it’s my pleasure. When Monica Warren invites you to her house, you go!” That got more than a few titters in the room. Yet unlike the other women, who were there to stay in the Warrens’ good standing, Adrienne Thomas appeared genuinely happy to be there. Her delight permeated the room like a healthy dose of nitrous oxide. Soon everyone was giggling and in a rush to accept a gentle handshake from this woman Jasmine didn’t know.
When Adrienne reached her, she said, “So we meet again, Jasmine.”
Monica visibly stiffened, eyes wide. What is that about?
“Why, yes… although I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced before.”
“It’s always a pleasure.”
Adrienne winked at Jasmine before taking a seat at the other end of the table. She was soon inundated with trite conversations from the guests leaning in toward her. Even Monica didn’t have to lead the party anymore. She almost looked glad of it.
Jasmine survived the garden party only because most of the other women ignored her. Even though Jasmine sat right next to Monica, women talked over her head, across her chest, and even right through her. Jasmine was invisible. She was a nobody. Most days that didn’t bother her. Sometimes she wished they would extend a kind word to her. Today? She was irked. It was probably the hormones. Yet all she could do was grin and bear it for the sake of her friend.
Monica implored Jasmine to stay behind at the end of the party. “Let’s have a chat, you and me. Just let me pay my respects to the other guests first.” So Jasmine remained behind, watching the other women slowly make their way by Monica, kiss her cheek, touch her hand, comment on her growing stomach, and tell her that the recent changes she made to the East Wing of Warren Manor were absolutely exquisite. She smiled through all of this, gracious, kind, more than happy to refer the designer she worked with.
Adrienne was the last to leave aside from Jasmine. She leaned in and whispered something into the shorter woman’s ear before showing herself out. Monica’s lips were taut for a good few seconds before she smoothed out her dress over her protruding stomach.
A good five minutes had passed before Monica had time for Jasmine again.
“Care for a walk through the gardens? I need the exercise.”
The Warrens’ gardens were nothing like Ethan’s. Jasmine’s boyfriend had a large, expansive, and colorful garden full of rainbow-toned flowers. Monica’s new garden that she oversaw was mostly made up of greenery. Beautiful greenery, to be sure, but between the ferns, bushes, and evergreen trees smartly cut and trimmed to curve with the marble bricks lining the walkways, it felt like walking through a storybook. I prefer Ethan’s garden. Jasmine liked colors.
“I think you had a good party,” she said, breaking the silence. They walked, Monica setting a leisurely pace while Jasmine struggled to shorten her strides. “I mean… nobody said anything nasty…”
“I wish that’s all that mattered in this world. I sort of miss a time when ‘nobody said anything nasty’ was the barometer for a good party.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. This is the life I signed up for.” She spared Jasmine a wan smile. “Perhaps one day you will as well.”
“Yeah… about that…” Jasmine wasn’t going to say anything about the baby “scare” to anyone. Not even her own mother, whom she spoke to on the phone the day before. Being around Monica, however, who was always the most sensible woman Jasmine knew, it was hard to keep any secrets. “Things have been wild these past few weeks.”
She slowly opened up about the supposed pregnancy, Ethan’s problems with work, and ultimately finding out that there was no child at all. Jasmine confessed that she still felt so stupid about her own body.
“There’s no need for that.” Monica sat on a bench along the path. Jasmine joined her, happy to sit down again. “I don’t know how many times in my life I’ve thought I was pregnant. At least fifteen, perhaps.”
“Really?”
“Indeed. When you’re with men like the ones I’ve been with, it’s something you always wonder. Even when I was with Ethan… well, forgive me for being blunt, but I was with another man as well, so the only assurance I had was that no baby could be Ethan’s.”
“Yeah…”
Monica put a hand on Jasmine’s arm. “I’m sorry. It must be hard to deal with.”
“I’m mostly over it now, I think.” Jasmine tried to shrug lackadaisically, but it w
as harder than she thought it could be. “It’s not like I had been trying for a baby or ever felt a burning need to have kids, but thinking I was pregnant… I dunno. The news completely went against what I felt instinctively. I felt betrayed.”
“I can imagine, and with Ethan’s distractions at the moment… although I hear that may be coming to an end soon.”
“That so? He hasn’t told me much.” Jasmine snorted. “I don’t know if he thinks I’m too stupid to understand, or…”
“No!” Monica shook her head. “I’m sure he doesn’t think that. Ethan has a hard time opening up, as you know. He only tells me things because after so long I know how to squeeze his balls until he talks. Pardon the expression, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Compared to Ethan, my husband Henry is the most open man in the universe, and he only recently told me that his grandmother was Argentinian. Can you believe it?”
“No.”
“The point is, Ethan is not one to talk about much to begin with. It says a lot about your own personality that you’ve put up with him for so long.”
“And you, I suppose.”
“To be fair, he dumped me.”
“He dumped a lot of women.” Jasmine held back an inappropriate laugh. “Except that one woman he was really in love with who dumped him after he proposed. What was her name?”
Monica glowed in disbelief. “You mean… Adrienne Thomas?”
Jasmine heard her, and yet it was like Monica’s words went right into one ear and out the other. “What?”
“Adrienne. Thomas. The woman who came to my party just an hour ago.”
“What?”
“Jasmine! You didn’t know! Here I was afraid it might be awkward!”
“I…”
Monica shook her head. Oh my God, I am so fucking dumb! Jasmine had only seen a few older pictures of Adrienne, but she had completely forgotten her name. The two things never clicked until now.
“She just moved back into the area. I suppose she had been living in California for a while.” Monica cleared her throat. “She’s the second richest woman in town. After Kathryn Alison, but it’s very, very close according to Forbes.”
“Oh, well, according to Forbes…”
“When I heard she was in town, I felt it was my duty as Henry’s wife to extend a greeting. Might open some doors for him. In all honesty, it was my first time meeting her too. She was long gone by the time I formally met Ethan. There were other women between her and me.”
“Okay. That’s cool.” Details I don’t need, thanks.
“Sorry. I forget you don’t do names as well as I do.”
“Well, it’s not my job to remember names anymore. So I don’t. Unless I have a reason to.”
“My word, Jasmine, I am so sorry I…”
“You didn’t do anything. Why would I be upset? So that was Ethan’s only other serious girlfriend besides me… whom he loved enough to propose to… after three years together… and she dumped him and broke his heart to the point he couldn’t have a healthy relationship until we got serious a while ago… it’s not a problem.”
“If you say so.”
“I do!”
“All right.” Monica fidgeted in her seat. Her hands kept going to her stomach, rubbing her baby bump and patting different parts of her dress as if they were uncomfortable. “Time to change the subject. Are you going to The Dark Hour this Friday?”
Jasmine tilted her head. It was still full of thoughts of Adrienne… that beautiful, refined woman who could have easily been an actress in old Hollywood and still have millions of fans today. Maybe if Jasmine tilted her head enough, the thoughts would spill out of there. “The Dark Hour… Ethan mentioned something about it. Why? We don’t go there often.”
“Last time I spoke to him on the phone I mentioned the demonstrations they’re doing that night and he sounded interested. I suppose it depends on you and how busy he is. He might have an important meeting that night.”
“Demonstrations?”
“They’re hosting a bondage night. Lots of shows and demonstrations about different forms of bondage and restraints. It’s one of Henry’s favorite things, so we’re going.”
Jasmine side-eyed Monica’s protrusion.
“Let me tell you, pregnancy hormones are no joke. There hasn’t been a single night this past week I haven’t had…” Monica looked around and lowered her voice. “Sex. I am insatiable. Sorry for the TMI.”
“I’m sure your husband doesn’t mind.”
“Honestly, he’s having trouble keeping up with me. We usually take a night or two off here and there. I’m allergic to breaks right now.”
Jasmine sighed. “Ethan and I have barely done anything in a month, and I’m not screaming for any physical affection like that. He doesn’t seem to be either. Between being sick, my brain, and his work… there hasn’t been time or energy for sex, let alone the kinky stuff.”
“Then if Ethan has the time, you two should definitely go Friday night. A bunch of us have reserved a table up front. There’s room for two more.”
“Perhaps.” It could be nice. They didn’t go to the local BDSM dungeon very often, mostly because Ethan wasn’t as public with his proclivities like other men were. Hell, anyone who was anyone had seen Henry dominate Monica into the greatest submission anyone ever experienced. So happened it was at The Dark Hour, too. I had front row seats… speaking of… What a world Jasmine lived in when she could watch one of her best friends have super kinky sex and not have it affect their friendship at all afterward. No wonder she and Ethan had to part ways. He’s not into the lifestyle like she is. Jasmine couldn’t imagine having sex with Henry. The man was a different kind of Dom from Ethan when he was in the mood.
“Well, if you decide to go, even at the last minute, let me know. I’ll make sure we save some seats for you two at our table.” Monica patted Jasmine’s knee. “If Ethan tells you he’s not in the mood, you might try suggesting otherwise. It might do you both a world of good to get a little inspiration to get those motors running again. Seriously.”
“Maybe you’re right. I’ll bring it up sometime soon.” Jasmine didn’t mean to sound so distant, but she was still thinking of Adrienne Thomas. That… woman… Even I had a crush on her. And she was so nice! Surely she knew who she was… she had to know that Jasmine was living with Ethan, let alone serious with him. Was that why she went out of her way to talk to…
Wait.
Wait.
Wasn’t she at Ethan’s office not too long ago?
Doing what?
Did Jasmine want to know?
“You all right?”
Jasmine flashed the fakest smile she could manage. “Life sure is a bucket of fucking bullshit, ain’t it?”
Monica’s eyes widened. “Hm…”
“Even when you’re happy. Even when things are going seemingly well. Bullshit. Constant piles of it.”
“Well…” Monica rested both hands on her stomach. “You’re not wrong. That whole party was a bucket of bullshit.”
“Uh huh.” Jasmine started laughing. It was all she could do to keep the last of her sanity.
Chapter 12
I never know how to dress for these things. That’s what Jasmine always thought whenever she descended the guarded stairs into The Dark Hour, the city’s dirty, naughty playground for the rich. Some nights it was nothing more than a fancy club and lounge, but most nights – especially weekend nights – it was a den of BDSM revelry, with everything from club sponsored shows to people being freaky in front of others for the sake of it.
Ethan didn’t bring Jasmine here very often. Maybe once every three to four months. Not like some of their friends, like Monica and Henry, who were here often enough to have drinks named after them.
Jasmine knew why Ethan didn’t like coming here. Even if you didn’t partake in the exhibitionism, voyeurism was something you signed up for the moment you entered the door. If people weren’t up on stage doing ev
erything from spanking to full-blown intercourse, they were having fun on couches, in dark corners by the bathrooms, or right in the middle of the floor – but not in anyone’s way, because that would be rude.
As it was, Ethan was not public with his kinks. Oh, people knew about them, especially if they came to the club often enough, but he preferred to keep them to the bedroom or office. Ethan would never get up on that stage. Not because he was shy or afraid, but because that wasn’t the type of man – the type of Dom – he was. Just as well. I don’t want people watching me have sex. It was bad enough some of them had heard her having sex before. Jasmine didn’t have an exhibitionist bone in her body. Not like some of the couples already making out and stroking thighs by the time she emerged from the coat check and followed her boyfriend into the main room.
Watching, however, was another story. Jasmine looked away from a woman stroking her partner’s thigh until he had an erection. Knowing Ethan, he would not be happy if she was staring at another man’s cock – clothed in pants or not.
“Do I look okay,” she whispered, taking his hand as they weaved between tables full of drinkers and vapers.
Ethan looked her up and down before focusing back on the dark club. “You’re gorgeous.”
Jasmine tripped over her heels. “Really?” She didn’t wear anything special. A dark blue Queen Anne dress and some pieces of understated jewelry. Her hand clenched in his. Is he just saying that? Sometimes it was hard to tell what came from Ethan the boyfriend and Ethan the businessman who knew how to keep things smooth.
True to her word, Monica had saved them two seats at a table next to the front stage, currently cordoned off while a staff-person moved things from here to there and coiled ropes, leather strips, and silk scarves in separate piles.
“Good evening,” Mrs. Warren greeted, nursing a Shirley Temple. Pregnant women get all the cheap drinks. Ethan ordered himself a bourbon and Jasmine a cosmo before pulling out her chair. While Jasmine sat and scooted in next to Monica, the woman continued, “Hope you don’t mind. We’re a bit of a big group.”
