Just One Night, Part 3_ Binding Agreement(22)

“The tequila must have gotten into her panties,” she says, “they’re certainly wet.”

The singer giggles; the bass player coughs into his hand.

Robert pulls my panties down. He pulls my legs open a little more then tastes me.

A flash of memory, Mr. Dade touching my clit with a scotch-drenched ice cube that first night I met him. I close my eyes . . . bite down on the lime. It’s the same sensation but so much more powerful under the watchful eyes of these strangers.

My hips instinctually raise to him; my back arches. Again I hear the whispered voice of the singer as I moan.

But he pulls away right before bringing me to the point of climax. My breathing is erratic as I feel his lips move up my hips, along my waist, over my breast and throat until he reaches my mouth and takes the lime. When the juice has been tasted, he hands the lime to Genevieve, who obediently takes it, her eyes running up and down the length of me as Robert leans in again for a kiss. The taste of tequila and sex overwhelm me, making my mouth water. I feel Genevieve’s fingers caressing my leg, gently touching my sex.

“I bet she’s stunning when she comes,” a man’s voice says. In my peripheral vision I can see the bass player has moved closer. He’s younger than I thought. No more than twenty-three, his wide-eyed innocence gives away his inexperience.

Robert pulls away, smiles again. “May he touch you?”

I don’t say a word. Not yes, not no, but in the silence is my consent.

Genevieve steps away as the bass player steps forward; his fingers only touch my inner thigh briefly before raising to my clit.

A jolt of electricity makes me jump. But his solicitations continue as Robert kisses my shoulders, my breasts. I feel this man’s fingers moving faster and faster and I moan again. The singer has moved very close now. I see that she stands next to Genevieve, whose hand is around her waist, touching her softly as she watches me.

I can feel that I’m about to come. I cry out softly but again Robert stops me, sharply telling the man to step away. “Only for me,” he explains. “She only comes for me.” And with that it’s his fingers that are touching me, not just playing but entering my body, first one then two. There’s no waiting anymore. The orgasm comes hard and shakes my whole body from the inside out.

In an instant his shirt is off as well, then his pants; he’s naked as he climbs on top of me, entering me in front of this small group of employees.

Because in the end, that’s what they are, I realize. They’re the people Robert hires and fires, the people he would give me similar authority over. The power lies with Robert and me, here on this bar as he enters me again and again. They watch with awe and excitement, privileged to be included in this moment.

I wrap my legs around his waist. The bar is wide but I do wonder if we can maintain this balance. At what point do we go too far, forget ourselves, fall to the floor?

But that doesn’t happen. Robert holds us in place. It’s as if our will alone keeps us from falling. I hear him groan as my nails run up and down his back. This is no longer submission. The fear has stepped aside, giving us room to revel in the aphrodisiac of power.

“She’s magnificent,” sighs the singer.

Yes, magnificent. Just like in the boardroom. I feel it. I know it. In this moment I’m absolutely sure he’s right about everything. I was shy, slow to see the brilliance of my situation. I can do anything. Anything. We make the rules. No one else. Just us.

“This is the only price,” he breathes into my ear, “to be inside your power.”

“Yes,” I whisper back and my body starts to shake once more. This orgasm builds slowly, with each thrust. I feel his hands, his mouth, their eyes . . . I feel him grinding inside of me. When I come, he comes with me, no longer able to hold out for another minute. Together we raise our voices and our audience collectively sighs.

I know they want to touch me again. The singer looks as if she wants to touch Robert. But they’re not allowed. We’ve made fear our lover, power our foundation . . .

. . . and we make all the rules.





CHAPTER 8





I WAKE UP THE next morning next to Robert, in his bed, with another hangover. This one isn’t alcohol induced; it’s the hangover you’re left with when the world changes under your feet, when there’s a rewiring of the mind. Everything is different today. I don’t fear Fear. I’ve done things I never thought I would or could and now, if I can do that . . . if I can let myself submit like that, is it so outrageous to think that I can master? Isn’t it almost required in order for me to keep the balance? Because if I don’t exercise my dominance in other areas of my life, I will feel weak and controlled. I won’t let that happen. Not anymore.