Please Note: Despite being set at a sexy event, this doesn't contain any overt, sexual acts.
True to form, Allison strolled in 45 minutes before we needed to leave, carrying a black garment bag. She startled me when she charged past the office on her to my bedroom. Without waiting for a greeting, she shuffled past the door, and said, "I found the perfect dress for tonight. You're gonna love it."
She didn't wait for my response, either. It didn't matter anyway. She really meant that
she
loved it, and I should keep my opinion to myself.
It's not like I had anything to worry about. I loved the clothes she wore. She liked to show off her body, and I liked having her on my arm. For a while, it was a fantastic combination.
I groaned and stood up from my desk chair. Attempting to shake off the audio's heaviness, I stretched as high as I could and pulled in a deep breath. As I exhaled, my arms flopped to my sides, but the movement did nothing to settle the slow buzz of uncertainty my insanity created.
Who the fuck designs a dream woman? With words?
A first-class ticket to the looney bin, right there.
And yet, something about it felt right.
I knew one thing. For all intents and purposes, Allison and I were done. No matter how much I wanted her—how stunning she looked in her new dress —I wouldn't touch her again.
I rubbed my hands over my forehead and through my hair. I needed a damn haircut. Without proper maintenance, my curly hair became unkempt. And, "whimsical" wasn't the exact image I was trying to project. I grabbed my phone and typed a quick text to Beth.
I need a haircut. Make it happen. Please?
The phone dinged back almost immediately.
Roger that, boss man. Have fun tonight.
😉
I snickered.
I don't even know where we're going.
About 15 seconds later.
It's that...um...event that Vanessa helped arrange. The sexy one.
I let out a big chortle. I could almost see her wincing as she typed the response. In fact, that's probably why she took a full, 15 seconds to respond. I sent Beth a "thumbs up" and headed to my bathroom to get ready.
Allison had already showered and was applying lotion to her naked body when I walked into the room.
"Are you going to be ready in time?"
"I'm more worried about you being read on time. Not that I'd mind being late," I muttered.
Allison grimaced and started to protest, but I ignored her and walked into the bathroom.
A flicker of sadness settled over me. At the beginning of our relationship, I would have taken her right there, her boldness egging me on. Afterward, she'd have been all smiles and giggles as we showered together. Later, our little dalliance would be a little secret between us—paving the way for sexy smirks and thinly-veiled innuendo. All of it recharging us for another round when we got back to my place—or sometimes before.
I couldn't deny that she was beautiful and sexy as fuck, but the thought of touching her...repulsed me.
I hopped in the shower and let the water race over me while I took in the city. When I was looking for apartments, my only request was a shower with a view of the city. She'd done me one better. While the shower was phenomenal, the bathtub was a work of art. Sunken into the floor, it was lined with the most amazing mosaic tile and provided an unobstructed view of the city. Overhead, an enormous showerhead hung, creating a rainforest effect. I didn't use it as much as I would like, but it was one of the things I would certainly miss when I moved out.
After a long, hot shower, I shaved and started to get dressed.
"What's the theme of this thing again?" I shouted from the closet.
"It's a BDSM event. It's kinky. Think kinky."
"So...a suit," I responded, dryly.
"Yes," Vanessa huffed. "A suit will work. Wear the one I like."
I flipped past five or six suits until I came to the one she wanted. She called it my "Daddy Dom" suit, even though I hated it when she called me "Daddy."
All my suits were custom made. Beyond an extravagance, it was a complete necessity. My size makes buying off the rack impossible. At six-foot-four, my arms and the circumference of my chest make everything else look like it came from the kid's section.
That particular suit, I had tailored to highlight my assets. It was just a little snug across the shoulders. The arms were just a little tight. That's why she liked it. I mean, I liked showing her off, so fair was fair.
I finished getting dressed and walked into the kitchen.
When I saw Vanessa, I stopped dead in my tracks. She was stunning. The dress was skin-tight and black. The sides were bare, with bands of slick, black vinyl wrapped around her in three different places: a band across her breasts; one around her waist; and one just above her hips. Her hair was slicked back into a long, straight ponytail. Her lips were painted a deep red—the same color as the velvet heels on her feet.
She raised an eyebrow and smirked, before giving me a demure nod.
"Ready?"
"Let's get going."
The event was held at club specifically designed to cater to New York's kinkiest. I'd been to a handful of times. Most of the time, the shows were raucous and wild, but this event promised to have none of that flair. The way Allison described it—the way Vanessa described it to her—we should expect an evening that blended art, 5-star cuisine, and kink. In deep contrast to over-the-top, sexual exhibitions, tonight was darker and more esoteric—you know, snobbish bullshit dressed up as innovation. I glanced at the invitation and it gave me a little hope for the event's quality when I recognized a few, high-profile artists and chefs.
I knew I was in for something different, the moment we pulled in front of the club. The usually bright and colorful marquee was dim with "Private Event" scrawled in large sloping, cursive across its white surface. Red light, barely visible through dark, sheer curtains radiated from the building like glowing ember writhing under a dark surface.
Allison bit her bottom lip and placed her hand on my knee. Impulse took over, and I almost grabbed her hand but stopped. I wouldn't touch her knowing that she wasn't what I wanted. Any intimacy between us was gone. Even if she looked like the embodiments of sex in that fucking dress. And those heels...
Christ. Knock it off.
I wasn't in love with her. I wasn't about to add insult to injury by using her for sex—even if she wanted it. Even if every fucking cell in my body wanted to. I was done sleeping with someone for the wrong reasons.
As soon as the car came to a stop, I angled my body away from her, using a false sense of readiness to slide from under her palm. The driver opened her door and offered his hand. When I caught him stealing a glance at Allison, his eyes widened and he looked away, a tiny smirk plastered across his face. Once composed, he met my gaze again, repentant. I gave the poor kid a nod. I mean, I wasn't fucking stupid. Allison was hot as sin.
And, if he knew the things she let me do to that body...
For fuck's sake, Andy. Get a grip.
Allison looped her arm into mine but turned her body forward. She wasn't about to miss the opportunity to preen in that dress. You couldn't blame her. Without question, not one pair of eyes was trained on me while she was dressed like that.
When we reached the front door, Allison handed our tickets to a man wearing tails in a shiny, snakeskin fabric, complete with a black tophat. A little flair, but just the right amount.
When we got inside, two near-identical women greeted us. They wore black, sequin bikinis and tall, black high-heels with laces tied past their knees. They escorted us through the dining room. Walking in tandem, their movements were synchronized to the smallest detail. The performance space had been completely transformed, except the stage which stood where it always had. In the seating area, there were no more than 20, large round tables, surrounded by eight chairs.
"Vanessa bought an entire table," Allison whispered.
Of course, she did. Nothing that little bitch liked more than spending my brother's money. Well, aside from blatant promiscuity.
Our table was next to the stage, the perfect vantage point to watch the show. Vanessa and Luke were standing next to the table when we got there, talking to another couple I didn't recognize.
Shit. Just what I needed, an entire night filled with pretentious, small talk. Fortunately, they were saying their goodbyes as we walked up. Vanessa and Luke turned to us, his eyebrows shooting up and a small smirk breaking out across her lips. When we made eye contact, the corners of Vanessa's lips pinched slightly, greeting me as the necessary evil I was. My brother charged forward and attempted to slap a hand on my shoulder, but I dodged him, opting for a firm handshake instead.
"Little brother," I said.
"Big brother," he nodded.
Allison's hand slid up the small of my back as she attempted to guide me to the table.
"We should probably sit down. They're going to serve dinner soon," she smiled, a frosty impatience lingering on every word.
Vanessa jerked her head in agreement and sashayed to the table, waiting for Luke to pull out her chair. By now, I'd pulled Allison's chair out and was scanning the room for familiar faces. While not a veteran on the kink scene, I'd been to my fair share of parties, and it was disheartening that I didn't recognize a soul.
It made sense, though. The vibe was completely different here, not relaxed or open. This was more about being
seen
rather than experiencing something new. Most of my kinky friends—rich and poor—abhorred that type of flashiness.
Our table had three open seats and before I could mention it, Allison asked, "Is someone else coming?"
"Oh, yes," Vanessa giggled. "Oliver's coming tonight."
Luke rolled his eyes as he watched Vanessa and Allison gush over Oliver's impending presence. He caught my eye and shook his head.
Oliver had an unjustified reputation as the scene's resident kinkmaster. Well, this scene, at least. The people I knew would be revolted by his brand of "dominance," which was really cleverly concealed abuse. The boss's son was also a complete dickhead who held a big title at the bank but rarely did any actual work. In fact, when Oliver was involved it usually ended up making more work for me.
Perhaps I was predisposed to dislike him because he was Rebecca's lifelong friend. While at Columbia, they'd had a falling out. No matter how many times I asked her about it, she never told me why. I assumed it had something to do with his legendary debauchery, but she wouldn't even confirm that.
Waspy reticence at its finest.
