Dirty Bad Secrets(69)
“There’s a lot I need to know. I don’t like ambiguity, it makes for problems later on. We’re either on the same page, or we’re not. We need to be on the same page, Faye, for the sake of this club.”
“And this is exactly what our problem is,” I groaned.
“Sorry?”
“You and your control-freak issues. That’s what our problem is. I don’t like ambiguity. We need to be on the same page. Why do you have to control everything? Why can’t things just be as they are?” My tone was snarky and rude, but I couldn’t stop myself.
“It’s not being a control freak, Faye, it’s being smart.”
“Be smart, then. Be whatever you want to be.” I stomped over to my desk, sat down and ruffled through paperwork.
“I’ll ask again. What’s going on between us?”
“We’re fucking,” I said. “And you’re being a control freak cock, as usual. I’m just trying to get on with running this club between us in the best way I can. Making the most of it.”
He laughed. “That’s pissing rich, isn’t it? Like you’re the professional party.”
“I’m not the one who wants to have a big relationship conversation in the middle of work time.”
“You have some front, you really fucking do.” He shifted to face me then pointed his finger in the general bar direction. “Like I don’t see you, thick as thieves with our spunky little barmaid, jabbering on all day about me, and my faults and what I should and shouldn’t be doing. Have the relationship conversations with me, not our fucking staff. That’s just common fucking respect.”
“That’s crap,” I snapped. “Like Topaz and I haven’t got better things to talk about than our stupid sex games.”
“I know you’ve been speaking with her,” he said. “I can see it all over her face. I can see it all over yours.”
“She’s a friend. I can speak to my friends about whatever I want.”
“And what did you speak with her about? Besides our stupid sex games?”
“None of your business,” I hissed. “Back off. Take the stick out of your ass.”
“So, you can talk to Topaz, our employee, about what’s going on between us, her bosses, but you don’t have the professionalism to fill me in on it, too. Is that how our partnership is looking, Faye?”
“My God, you are just impossible!” I slammed my papers down. “What’s going on between us is that you humour me with crappy little handouts. You give me just enough to keep me quiet. Just enough responsibility, just enough autonomy, just enough respect, just enough submission. I want more! I want equality!”
“So fucking earn it. Be an equal. Equal in effort, equal in contribution. You’ve got some time to make up.”
I put my fingers to my temples, massaging the ache. “Here we go! That bitterness, it’s always there. You say you’ll let me lead, but it’s always there, the resentment. You grit your teeth and tolerate it and wait for your turn.”
“What else am I supposed to do? Roll over and show you my belly? Shout my congratulations from the rooftops? Bend over and let you fuck me with that oversized fucking strap-on?”
I felt my colour drain. “It was just an idea. A game.”
“I’m not a sissy boy, Faye, so stop trying to make me into one.”
“I’m not trying to make you into one.”
“You could have fucking fooled me.”
“It’s not about the strap-on,” I said, and I was getting ridiculous again. Emotional and overwhelmed and pathetic. “It’s about being able to give yourself to me in the spirit I give myself to you.”
“And what spirit would that be?”
“I submit to you when it’s your turn in charge, genuinely.”
“You’re a fucking submissive, Faye, it’s what gets you off. I don’t need to read any of Vincent cunting Blackthorne’s books to know that shit.”
“I’m not just a submissive,” I said. “Not anymore.”
His face was a picture, tired and fed up and exasperated. “What are you, then? You want to be my domme? You want to play the big bad business partner who’s going to fuck my ass when things don’t go your way? I’m not down for those kind of games, Faye. I honour the coin toss, but that’s all. I’m no submissive, and these games are temporary.”
“And that’s why you summoned me in here?” I smiled, bitterly. “You summoned me in to tell me that you won’t take it up your ass. You’re pathetic, Andy, you really are.”