I am a man of my word—whatever my mistress wanted, she got.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Cerise
“That is just unacceptable, Cerise,” Erin said, shaking her head.
I threw up my hands. “Can’t you just be happy for me? I had a breakthrough, goddammit.”
Erin took a long sip of her Earl Grey and looked me steadily in the eyes. “How can you have a proper relationship with him if he’s busy taking you out to dinner and calling the shots? It’s like some alternative lifestyle.”
I took an equally long drink, burning my tongue in the process of trying to look cool—just after it had fully healed from the nuclear cheese incident. “I don’t think I need to tell you that most people consider what we do to be quite alternative,” I said, pursing my lips, waiting for her reaction. She just shrugged.
“All I’m saying is that there’s a huge imbalance in the power exchange here. You told him no, and he disobeyed. Listen, I’m all for subs being boyfriends, but this is just out of line. Unless you make him pay dearly in the next scene, you’ve lost ground . . . with him and with me.” It was times like these where I wished Erin had some horrible deformity or speech impediment. I wanted to mock something really, really obvious about her.
I shook my head slowly, and measured my words. “I don’t need ground with you. You are not my Domme; you’re my mentor. Most days I consider you a close friend, but now you’re just being flat-out mean. I think I have a shot at being happy, Erin, and I want your support.”
“If you want my support to be his girlfriend, I wish you all the luck in the world. However, I can’t in good conscience say you will have a great D/s relationship with him. So much has gone wrong so quickly.”
Center yourself, Cerise, I told myself, imagine she’s talking like Daffy Duck. No, still not calm. How about Daffy Duck tripping balls on shrooms? Hmm, that’s better.
“What about all that’s gone right?” I asked. “I have never been so attracted to someone, and he’s fighting so damn hard for me. It makes me feel good, and isn’t that what all this is about? You know I’ve never been traditional.” My tea shook in my hand, spilling out sizzling droplets on my wrist.
Erin took a small, demure bite of her scone and swallowed. “I’ve said my piece. He’s not good for you. Read that last journal he gave you, and find out. You’re being lied to again, Cerise,” she said, taking my hand. “I don’t want to see you fall apart.”
Fuck.
Tears threatened to invade my eyes, so I blinked a few times and went to my happy place—Nordstrom’s denim section. The assault retreated. “We’ll see,” was all I could manage.
Erin decided that now would be the perfect time to change the subject. “Oh, and Brent was wondering if you wanted to do a scene with us at a play party,” she said smoothly. I was about to have another case of spontaneous jaw-dropping syndrome. “The theme is Three’s Company, so instead of dressing like we’re from the seventies, we thought we’d add someone else to the fun.”
“Yeah, I’m going to have to decline that invitation,” I said, rolling my eyes at her audacity.
She shrugged. “It might be good for you,” she said, and threw out the remainder of her scone and tea. I sipped the dregs and got up quickly.
I had to get home to that journal, whether or not I’d read it. I just slept with it under my pillow.
The journal sat in my lap, unopened. I was happy with my decision, and firm in my resolve. I would not read it. If William asked, I would explain my reasoning.