My Dates With The Dom (6 page)

Perhaps I was just muddying the waters between sex and love. Maybe because we were having sex and intense sex at that, I fooled myself into believing the emotions I harbored were the genuine article. Could that be it?

No. I could list the many things I loved about him, big things, little things, everything.

I loved the power in his voice. The way he took command of every situation and the way he took command of me. I loved the smile he often tried to hide when he was pleased with me or the way I responded to him, the way his eyes would twinkle with satisfaction when I'd be close to coming. I loved his intelligence, the knowledge he took for granted, and I savored. But most of all, I loved, that in spite of everything, he had a heart full of goodness. A heart he rarely acknowledged even existed.

I smiled at him, unsure of what he'd just said. I'd been lost in my thoughts of love and an overwhelming sadness blanketed me. I couldn't have it both ways. My master would never love me the way I loved him. He would always see me as nothing more than his submissive, nothing more than a piece of ass. For the first time I felt dirty. And I don't mean in a sexy way, I mean in a cheap one.

At least he used my name. I had negotiated that he call me by name rather than Missy for submissive, like he had with the others he had trained. I wondered about that too. How many had he had? How long did they last? Would I go the way they had? Would he tire of me before the contract was up? Would it just end at the designated time? And how would I handle it when it did?

He'd set the table for two. He went to the fridge and opened it while I stood behind the chair I was to sit on. Should I sit or wait for him? My fingertips reverently edged the plain white plate he regularly ate his meals on.
Get a fucking grip. You're losing it.

"Do you want a diet soda or water?” He held the soda bottle in his hand.

"Soda's fine.” Truth be told, I wanted to ask for a drink, a glass of wine or even something stronger, something that would settle my nerves. As his sub I knew how to act, but as a woman having dinner with him, I was clueless. What if I couldn't put together an intelligent thought?

He poured the soda and pointed for me to sit. “Do you like shrimp?"

My jaw dropped. Seafood. My stomach roiled. No way would I be able to handle it. Perceptive as he was, he noticed immediately. “Are you allergic?"

I nodded.

"No problem. You could have red sauce on the pasta or butter. I should have mentioned what I was making when I invited you. I didn't think. . . . “

"Red sauce would be great. I'm sorry.” He had been making his dinner and I had asked if I could come early thereby almost forcing him to invite me.
Shit. I was really fucking up the evening.

He rolled with it, stirred the pasta, pulled out a piece and tested it. I watched the way he placed it in his mouth with his fingers. Fingers that I worshiped, a mouth I ached for. He had no idea how erotic it was watching the few strands of pasta slide past his lips.

I wanted to wrap the pasta around his cock until he was bound by it and then suck it off. That's how I wanted my dinner. I smiled a sincere smile and wondered if he noticed the mischief in my eyes. Would what I was thinking be apparent on my face? He noticed everything, so there was no doubt he'd notice my thoughts wandered.

He let me have my moment and turned back to the pasta. A few minutes later we were eating and he led the conversation. Somehow I responded and hopefully held my own. Still, as he spoke I watched his mouth as it moved, wanting to lick and suck on it, to draw his tongue into my mouth and claim it.

We were in the middle of cleaning up when he turned to me and the tone of his voice changed. “Go to your corner."

My breath lodged in my throat and my feet did a fast click across the floor into his bedroom. I knew the wall I was to face. I'd faced it before and I'd face it again. The wall I'd press my nose to while my body readied for him. Didn't take long, I was wet before I made it to the wall. Within moments I could distinctly hear clothes dropping in the bathroom. Knowing he heard the slightest shift of my feet, I didn't dare move lest I displease him.

I heard the sound of the door closing and the sound of his bathrobe being lifted off of the back of it before his footsteps approached. As they did, my heart beat faster. I wore crotchless underwear and a garter belt. Would he be happy with them or find them tasteless? I felt him beside me. “Hands by your sides. Stand up straight."

I adjusted my position and berated myself for my imperfections. More than anything I hated displeasing him. He pulled my hair to the side and bit along my neck. His mouth encased my ear and his tongue lapped along the inside. His breath in my ear caused my knees to buckle, and I thought for sure I'd end up on the floor.

"I can't wait for you tonight. I need to pump. Strip naked and present yourself."

I flung my clothes to the floor as I tore them off my body and hopped up on the bed, ass in the air. He was really deviating from whatever fantasy would be explored tonight, but I knew sooner or later he'd get to it.

The foil ripped and his cock entered me hard, a frenzied pace from the get go. As he thrust into me, he reached in front and tantalized my clit with his fingers. I'd barely been in the bedroom more than a few minutes before not only was I coming, but even odder, he was coming too.

I knew we'd rest and then take our time for the second round. Or at least that's what I thought. Then his phone buzzed. He picked it up off the nightstand and looked at the message.

"Get dressed. You've got to go."

I just stared at him as if I had somehow missed something important. “Now?"

"I'm sorry. A friend's in the hospital in Providence. It's serious and I have to go.” He practically jumped from the bed and pulled on his underwear and socks. He threw on a pair of pants that had been hanging on the back of his chair and looked around for a shirt. He opened a drawer and pulled out an un-ironed shirt that didn't match and hastily buttoned it. I'd never seen him look like that. Like a bum. If he was going out looking like that, it had to be life or death.

"In Providence? You're going to drive an hour to a hospital in Providence now?"

"We were close. Hurry up. You have to leave."

I finished getting my own clothes on and he hustled me out of the house. I hadn't even fastened my seatbelt when his sports car was out of the driveway and up the hill. Damn it, if he drove like that all the way he'd be killed. I fretted and worried all the way home and then pouted over being home so early on a Friday. I changed into dirty jeans and a sweat shirt and paced. Hospitals didn't let anyone but family in after visiting hours, unless of course the person was dying.

Unease gripped me and I got on the computer to check my email and see if there was anything from the girls. That's when I noticed it. A new connection. Between Michael and ‘me’ it said. I clicked on the avatar for ‘Me.'

A twenty-seven year old redhead.

My stomach knotted and my hands started to shake. There was no one in the hospital. He fucked me fast to get rid of me because he had a younger better offer.

Just like my ex-husband.

I barely made it to the toilet before I lost the contents of my stomach. When there was nothing left I curled up in the fetal position and sobbed. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't end now. I needed him. I loved him. The thought of being without him made my heart ache like it had been crushed in someone's hand.

I had to know. More than anything I wanted some poor bastard to be dying in Providence. I wanted the avatar to be some kind of mistake, but I knew before I ever turned the corner to his street that his car would be in the driveway. It was and a piece of me died. If I'd been smart I would have waited for her to show up, but I had to see him. Had to let him know I wasn't an idiot. I'd spent years with a liar and I knew all the tricks.

I rang the bell and he answered the door still in the wrinkled shirt. He didn't let me in, just stood with the screen between us. I started to cry. “I saw the avatar,” I yelled. “Twenty-seven year old ‘Me.’ So you threw me out so you could fuck someone else? We have a contract. No sex with anyone else until the contract is up."

"It's my old girlfriend. She said she was in the hospital with a brain tumor. We were together for two and a half years. How could I know she was lying?"

"Bullshit. You just ‘connected’ online today."

"Are you checking up on me? Is that what you're doing? That's why you're back here?” The phone he was holding rang then. He looked at the number. “It's
her
and I'm going to be doing a lot of yelling. Leave. And don't come back here tonight."

There was something about the way he said the word
her
. I'm not sure if it was his tone, the expression on his face, or both, but I knew in that split second that he loved her. “We're done,” I yelled with as much pride as I could muster. He slammed the door in my face. For a few seconds I stood there staring at the door hoping the entire scene hadn't actually occurred. But it had and I needed to get out of there.

I got back in the car and sat there crying not knowing how I'd make it the fifteen minute drive without cracking up the car. I couldn't breathe. My eyes were blinded by tears, and a numbness took over. Somehow, and to be honest I don't know how, I made it back to my apartment. I sat on the couch, unable to move, unable to think. I only felt. Pain. An overwhelming and indescribable pain. Like a piece of me had been cut off. A piece of the real me.

I didn't want it to be true. We hadn't been together long, but I needed him. He was all I looked forward to. The ‘dates’ with my Dom was what made the rest of my sorry existence endurable. Without enough energy to leave the couch, I sat there, an empty shell staring into space, unable to do anything. My eyes would blink and tears would fall until they couldn't fall anymore. At some point I glanced at the clock and realized I hadn't moved in five hours. Mechanically, I wandered to my bed and collapsed on top of it not bothering to undress or even attempt to slide under the covers.

He'll call, I told myself. He's bound to realize she's too young for him. She must have played him and she'll play him again. He'll think about how good I am for him, how much I
want
to please him. Don't be stupid. She's a young girl so he won't be able to see her clearly. Been there, experienced that, remember? You can't compete, you fool.

And so on the brain battled, until two days later he still hadn't called, and I had to acknowledge that he probably wasn't going to. I wouldn't call him. There was no point. The one thing you could never do was make someone want or love you. I'd learned that the hard way. They either did or they didn't, and it looked like once again I was shit out of luck.

The thought of the week ahead with nothing to look forward to was almost too much to bear. Only one thing would help. I would go back to the computer and find another one. Another Dom. It'd take some time, but my profile was still there lying dormant. All I had to do was update it. If I gave the site fifteen to twenty minutes a day, it would give me a distraction and make me at least feel proactive. I'd be smart the next time and not allow myself to fall in love.

Who knew if I really loved him in the first place? Maybe I'd just believed it since he was the first person I'd slept with since my divorce. But deep down I knew better. I cared more about losing him than I had my ex-husband. I wondered if he was with her now. I hated myself for being so petty, but I hoped the bitch ripped his heart out and disposed of it as carelessly as he'd tossed out mine.

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The next three weeks my grade point average dipped significantly. I spent more time than I should have on the computer, and maneuvered through a minefield of Doms. Dodging one potential disaster after another, I continued to narrow down my choices. Only one showed any real promise. I sent him my cell phone number and after a few phone conversations we set up a date for dinner. Oddly, this man was named Michael, too. The difference was he wasn't just looking for a sexual relationship. He wanted real dates to go along with them. Dinner. Movies. The real world followed by the alternate one. I figured this was a good thing since it was exactly what I had wanted and what had been missing with the last Michael.

I met the new man at Spumoni's and we enjoyed a lovely meal. For all intents and purposes it was a normal first date. Over Chicken Escarole soup we talked about our lives, how busy they were, and what we were looking for in a relationship. What made it different was our conversation by the end of the date. By the chocolate mousse cake we talked about what we wanted sexually. Part of me wanted to cry right there at the table. What the hell was I doing? Did I need sex that badly? It's not like I hadn't gone without it before.

No. That wasn't it. I needed to make up for the loneliness and the hole in my heart where
my
Michael belonged.

The impostor walked me to my car and kissed me. The connection only made me feel more alone. His hand reached up and he cupped my breast and squeezed. I yelped and pushed back from him knowing there'd be a bruise. He apologized and might have been sincere but I couldn't read him that well. For all his straight talk and wanting a relationship, I couldn't help but think actions spoke louder than words. Nothing more happened. Leaving the parking lot, he turned right and I turned left.

Later on that night I analyzed the situation I found myself in. If I wanted it to go further all I had to do was email or call to set up a date for the weekend. I could have sex if I wanted it. He was an attractive man with seductive deep set blue eyes. I just needed to decide if I wanted to continue on this path. More than anything I wished for a sign. Sighing, I opened my laptop and did my daily email check.

There it was. When I least expected it. When I was sure that he was long gone and I'd never hear from him again, an email from Michael appeared.
My
Michael. My hands shook as I opened the email. One line graced the screen resuscitating hope. ‘I would so like to hear from you.'