"I figured. That’s why I wanted to get you away from it all," she noted. "I hate appearing in the tabloids myself, but ever since billionaires started racing to space, being famous has become a fashion statement. It used to be you only made the news if you were dating a star or attending the Oscars." She shrugged as if global fame were a triviality. "I know it would be a major problem for you to end up on a gossip site with anyone. Since we’re in the same city, I had to throw them off the scent."
"And what exactly did you do?" I asked, noticing my quiche was almost gone. "The last time you said something like that, you had practically banned people from wearing my perfume."
"Well, yesterday, I supposedly went to Paris. I let them photograph 'me' with a model," she revealed. I must have furrowed my brow instinctively because she immediately reached out. "It was just to feed the gossip mill!" she added with a smile, touching my hand. "I hired a lookalike. She really does look like me, take a look." She handed me her phone, showing photos of a woman who was a dead ringer for her, standing by a window with her back to the camera. In the shot, only the model’s face was visible.
"So, the world thinks you're in Paris with this gorgeous model while you're actually in Amsterdam with a woman in her late thirties?" I asked, a playful edge to my voice.
Kelsey rolled her eyes and set her fork down firmly. "No self-deprecation, Megan. It doesn't suit you," she countered.
I rolled my eyes right back as she spun my chair around to face her. "It wasn't that. It was just a bit of emotional blackmail—and clearly, you don't fall for it," I noted.
She shook her head, resting her hands firmly on my waist. "How tired are you, really?" she asked softly.
"Not very... do you have plans? I just need a shower first," I replied.
"My plans involve taking you to the balcony of the suite and not letting you go for a long, long time," she promised. She reached out her hand, and I followed her through the sprawling apartment.
The master suite was breathtaking. A window as large as the one in the living room overlooked the city. The bed was a massive super-king, and a sleek jacuzzi sat on the opposite side of the room. I asked Kelsey about the tub, and she explained simply that it was already there when she moved in. I laughed at the nonchalance of it all as she guided me to the bathroom—a temple of marble with double sinks, a soaking tub, and a rainfall shower built into the ceiling.
"I'll give you some privacy," she said, before slipping out of the room.
A smile lingered on my face as I undressed. I felt light, my lungs finally free of the Washington air.
A while later, I stepped out of the bathroom with damp hair, wearing nothing but my black lingerie and the plush robe I’d found hanging near the shower. Kelsey was at the desk; her laptop was open, and she looked deep in thought.
"I took the robe that was hanging there. I hope that's not a problem?" I asked.
Kelsey shook her head, her eyes practically devouring me. "I don't want to disturb your work," I added, remembering what Charlie had explained about submission. I was curious to see just how far Kelsey was willing to take the lead.
"You're not disturbing me, Kitty. Are you feeling better after your shower?" she asked, closing her laptop with a definitive snap. I sat on the edge of the bed and smiled.
"The shower was relaxing... you never realize how much of a relief it is just to wash your hair," I remarked.
She glided toward me in her office chair. Her fingers trailed through my wet hair, carefully tucking a damp strand behind my ear. "You smell like lavender," she murmured. "It's enough to make anyone fall at your feet."
I caught her chin between my thumb and index finger, biting her lower lip before giving her a crooked smile. "Uh-huh. Helen of Troy herself," I teased.
"The American Edition," she added, her laugh low and sarcastic.
"Tell me what you’ve found out about BDSM. Do you still want that whip with the seeds on the ends?" Kelsey asked, her voice dropping to a low, intimate hum. My hands rested on her shoulders as we stared at each other for a long moment. "What do you think is a hard limit for you? Something you wouldn't do at all?"
"Drowning. Or anything like it," I admitted, a shiver running down my spine. "It hurts just to imagine someone holding my head under a sink." Kelsey offered a delicious smile. It wasfascinating—on one hand, she had this almost childlike aura, and on the other, she was predatory and sensual. "And I don't know if I want the whip anymore. Maybe just... some spanking."
"I don't really like water play either. It makes me anxious," she confessed. "What about breath control?"
"You mean that tube? God forbid, Kels!" I exclaimed. She laughed at my reaction, explaining that she’d been traumatized by a bad experience with that in the past. "I thought the candle play was interesting," I added, "but not in my house."
"Why not?" she prompted. We were standing so close now that I was practically begging for a kiss.
"I’m afraid I’ll burn myself, and I don't like being sticky with wax or oil... lots of things," I replied. "What about you? What do you like best?"
She tilted her head back as if weighing her options. "Depriving the submissive of an orgasm makes me very, very excited," she whispered, the tip of her nose brushing against my neck. "But you already knew that. I enjoy restraints, too, though they aren't a mandatory part of every scene."
"And how did you envision our first scene?" I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Charlie said we’d need at least a verbal agreement."
"I don't like it when people move around during a spanking session," she stated, her tone turning authoritative. She held my chin, sealing our lips together for a brief, searing moment. "I thought of you right there." She guided my gaze toward a sturdy table in the room. "Leaning against it, with your feet still on the floor."
I felt her lips move to my jaw, her tongue trailing down the sensitive skin of my neck. I was so far gone I would have agreed to anything she asked.
