My response to the pastel discs had become almost Pavlovian.It was worse than the brief time I’d smoked during college.It had gotten to the point where I couldn’t get through my day without the small rolls.The eighth had to hurry up and get here before my habit became an obsession.I sucked on the antacid instead of chewing it and closed my eyes, giving myself over to the slightly ticklish feeling of pale-pink nail polish being painted on my toes.Scarlet or hooker-red would have seemed a more obvious choice, but I’d found that for most of the men I worked with, they liked at least the initial illusion of innocence.
Not that any of that mattered if I lost the business I’d worked so hard to build.I bit down on the antacid, grinding it to powder with my teeth and wishing it was as easy to crush the specter of Erik Jensen and the looming deposition.
––––––––
I’D SPENT MOST of themorning going over the questions for the interrogatory and cementing how I intended to handle Ms.Smithson.All of which got shot to shit the moment I walked into the conference room at Jones and Andrews and saw her sitting at the conference table looking simultaneously frightened and defiant.In her buttoned-up suit and with her wide, dark eyes, she was more cornered cat than sex kitten and damned if she wasn’t tempting as hell.
Every bit of her fire and vulnerability pulled at me.I wanted to cradle her in my arms until she felt safe and bend her over the table, shove up her skirt and fuck her senseless all at the same time.I wanted to save her from the monsters and be the monster in the same breath.I was so fucking screwed.And by proxy, so was my client if I couldn’t get my shit together.
“Ms.Ellis.Ms.Smithson,” I said, managing a curt nod to her counsel without allowing myself to meet Alexandra’s scared eyes.I needed to get a fucking grip on myself before I could do that.Sliding into the cool indifference I’d cultivated over the years was as comfortable as putting on an old coat and gave me a chance to re-establish the necessary professional distance between me and the woman I wanted to simultaneously worship and devour.
“Mr.Jensen,” said Ms.Ellis.
Alexandra stayed silent, and I was grateful not to have to deal with the way it felt to hear my name on her lips for a little while longer.
The stenographer adjusted her chair, started the recorder and we were off to the races.
“Ms.Smithson, are you the owner of the entity operating as the Gentleman’s Submissive?”
“Yes,” she said.She started to add more, but caught herself.Ms.Ellis must have coached her to only answer my questions without elaborating.
“And what is it the Gentleman’s Submissive does?What services do you offer?”I sat back a little in my chair, waiting to see how she would dance around the illicit nature of her business.She couldn’t incriminate herself by admitting to accepting money for sexual services, and since I hadn’t found any irregularities or problems with her business license or permits—she was operating under the same constraints sexual surrogates used—I assumed she must have developed a standard answer.
“I train Dominants,” she said, leaning forward.“Much in the way a life coach works, I help men—and occasionally women—find and develop their dominant natures.”
“You honestly believe you can train Doms?”I asked.The question was out of my mouth before I had a chance to consider it, and I always considered everything, especially where the law was concerned.This case—this woman—had me twisted up in ways that simply weren’t going to work.
“To be honest,” she said, and I saw Ms.Ellis lean closer to her, presumably to stop her if she went too far off the rails.“I’m not sure that there is such a thing as a real Dominant or submissive.We all have a bit of both inside us.I simply help the people who come to me develop the side they are most interested in cultivating.”
Unfucking believable.Here I was getting worked up because she was messing around with something she clearly didn’t understand, and the reality was she didn’t even seem sure she believed in what she was selling.I’d bet big money that she not only hadn’t experienced real submission with a true dominant, she didn’t believe it existed.
“So you don’t think you are a submissive?”
She actually had the audacity to snort when she laughed.
“No.I mean, I know there are people who believe they are but it’s not me.I saw a need and worked out a way to fill it.That’s all.It has little to do with my actual temperament and more to do with putting my degree to use.”
“And what degree is that?”I asked, not sure what I expected to hear.
“I have a doctorate in gender studies.”
Of course she did, and down the rabbit hole we went.
“Forgive me, Ms.Smithson—or perhaps Dr.Smithson is more accurate.”I watched her, waiting to see if my condescension would ruffle her feathers, but if anything, it seemed to have the opposite effect.“But could you please explain to me how a PhD in gender studies led you to believe you can train Dominants?”I honestly wasn’t surewhatthe degree qualified her for, aside from becoming a professor who taught gender studies.
She leaned forward in her chair, and I couldn’t help but notice the way the ivory silk moved and draped over her skin.Her blouse was modest—conservative even—but something about knowing there was nothing but a soft, whisper-thin bit of fabric hiding her lush curves had my mouth going uncharacteristically dry.Her skirt was camel colored today and pencil straight, more suited to a librarian than a woman who made her living cultivating the sexual desires of others.I was just grateful the conference table hid her legs.The last thing my lust-addled brain needed was a clear view of her delicate ankles and what I was sure was another killer pair of fuck-me heels.
“As I already stated for the record, Mr.Jensen, I don’t believe I can train Dominants.What my doctorate did was give me valuable insight into the hearts and desires of many women and as a result, to the men who care about them.”
I didn’t know whether she simply decided to be done being scared of me, or if she hit her stride talking about something she felt passionately about.Either way, the last remnants of her fear seemed to have burned away in the intensity of her gaze.If I wanted her when she was timid, she was magnificent nearing her full power.
“The desire to dominate and submit has become so ingrained in popular culture.It’s pervasive in books and movies.Contemporary fiction is full of examples.It was an easy step to see what people wanted, and realize there would be many of them who wouldn’t know how to get there.I help men take that final step.To learn to give their partners some of what they need.I provide a service, Mr.Jensen.One that is in increasing demand.”
She said my name, and I swallowed hard.I was supposed to be the one turning the tables on her, not the other way around.I glanced down at my notes, scrambling for a question that would give me a moment to find my footing again.In my personal and professional life, I was the one in control and I liked it that way.Hell no, I needed it that way.Nothing about this day was turning out the way I expected.
“Do you have any employees?”
“No, it’s just me.”
