The Contract Rebecca's Lost Journals, Volume 2(10)
I have my dream job, and I’m distracted, which I would never have thought possible. Everything used to be so simple. I wanted to work in the art world, and I drove my life toward that. Then my mother died and I had to pay the bills, so I drove my life toward that. I was in control of what I was doing, even if I wasn’t happy about the direction I was headed. Now, I’m in this complicated web but still living a dream, and it’s unfamiliar and strange, but exciting. And control? After today, I can say with certainty that it is lost.
Which brings me back to the crazy thing I let myself do. I braved the chilly San Francisco weather to walk the several blocks to the deli, all bundled up. Everything was so normal when I entered the small restaurant. I ordered an egg salad sandwich and sat down at one of the small tables by the door with my food and my journal, intending to start this entry. That’s when my cell phone buzzed with a text from him. Go into the bathroom it read.
Adrenaline rushed through me to the point that I could barely catch my breath. He was here? How was that possible? No, I told myself; he didn’t say he was here. He just ordered me to the bathroom. Who knew what kind of mind games he played as “Master”? I was in new territory. Knowing this, I pulled myself together and calmed down. But I was eager to discover what he wanted.
Quickly, I stood up and headed to the bathroom, leaving my lunch on the table. The sign led me down a narrow hall to the left where there were two unisex doors. I took a guess, opened the first door, and went inside. He was there, looking deliciously him. (How else do you describe perfection?) Heat poured through me and settled in my belly.
He stepped forward, removing the small space between us, towering above me. “Put your purse on the counter,” he ordered softly.
I shoved it onto the counter I hadn’t even looked at. Who cares what the bathroom looks like when he’s in it?
“What were you supposed to reply to my order, Rebecca?” he asked, and there was no missing the warning in his voice.
It took me a moment to process, but I remembered what I’d been taught Saturday night, how I’m to reply to everything he commands. “Yes, Master.”
“Take off your panties.”
The order aroused me like I’d never been aroused, but then, I say that about a lot of things with this man. I also do a lot of things willingly I’d have never thought I would. “Yes, Master,” I replied again, and the heated approval in his eyes was like a stroke of his hand over my already aching sex.
I tugged the skirt of my pencil-cut black dress up to my hips and slipped my tiny black thong down my legs and over my high heels. When I started to tug down my hem, he ordered me to leave it up so that I was bared for his viewing. I complied and gave him another “Yes, Master.”
Then I dared to dangle my panties by my finger, because, well, what else was a girl going to do in that situation? He took them from me and, without touching me, stuffed them in his pocket. I knew I wasn’t getting them back. He’d have that little part of me with him the rest of the day and I’d be bare, thinking of him and what we wouldn’t have time to do in a public bathroom. The panties ensured that he would, too.
“Unzip your dress and let me see your nipples,” he ordered next. Someone knocked on the door and he added, “Ignore them. Do as I said.”
I can’t believe, knowing where I was, how busy the deli was, that I didn’t hesitate. I reached for my zipper. “Stop,” he said, and he did not sound pleased.
My heart lurched at the hard-spoken word and I froze, staring at him an instant before I knew what he wanted. “Yes, Master,” I said quickly.
He inclined his chin and I tugged down the front of my dress, then shoved my bra out of the way. His gaze swept downward, over my aroused nipples, and I reacted so completely, feeling him all over and burning for him to touch me and be inside me, that he might as well have physically touched me all over. I’d never wanted any man like I wanted this man in that bathroom.