“Relax,” I reassure her. “I’m not going to order you around tonight, but in general, the same rules still apply. You should still obey me, we’ll just be discreet.” I take her hand, and give it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll take care of everything. You relax.”
Isabelle exhales, relaxing. “OK, I can try.”
It’s cold out, but the streets are busy in my fashionable neighborhood: full of couples out for dinner, and people heading home after work.
None of them would ever guess the real relationship between Isabelle and me. To them, dominance and submission are the things of kinky sex clubs, whips and chains. They could never guess that I can show as much power walking down the street; that my dominance of Isabelle continues in every look, every touch, every word.
“Here we are.” I nod to the bar at the end of the block. It’s a little hole in the wall place, dim and grungy, but I know they serve the best burgers in the city. Isabelle wrinkles her nose, but she follows me down the steps and inside.
She looks around. “Why is everyone looking at us?” she whispers, drawing closer to me.
I smile. “They’re looking at you.” Even in jeans, she’s still the most beautiful girl in any room.
Isabelle flushes, looking embarrassed, so I lead her to a table in a dark corner. “Two pints please, Greg,” I call over to the burly British bartender. “And a couple of burgers, fries, the works.”
“Alright, boss.”
Isabelle looks interested. “This is your usual hangout? You could scrape the grease off the ceiling with a knife.”
I laugh. “Don’t let Greg hear you say that. He takes pride in his grease.”
She smiles and takes off her coat. “It’s strange to see you here,” she remarks. “I was beginning to think you lived at the office, or home. Or the club.” She blushes.
“I guess I deserve that,” I nod. “There hasn’t been much time in my life for anything but work.”
If you want to make it in the corporate world without a fancy Harvard MBA or Daddy on the board, you have to work harder than anyone. And me, a kid from the Scottish Highlands, I was determined to work harder than everyone.
Greg brings over our beers and food. Isabelle gapes at the spread: huge double decker slabs of ground sirloin with bacon, onions and cheddar, and a basket of crispy, thick fries.
“There’s enough here to feed an army! I can get through maybe half of that.”
“I’ll allow it,” I say, with a smile to let her know I’m joking. “But I bet you’ll finish the lot.”
We start eating, and soon she relaxes. “Oh my God,” she murmurs, taking a bite. “This is worth the hours on the treadmill I’m going to need tomorrow.”
My breath sticks. Fuck, she’s sexy, savoring every bite. Away from her snooty socialite crowd, she’s relaxed and carefree, gulping beer and wiping the foam from her lip with the back of her sleeve.
“So, tell me about yourself,” Isabelle asks hesitantly. “I hardly know much at all.”
I pause. “Like what?” I ask, dunking a fry in ketchup. Although, to me, they’ll always be chips.
“Well, the whole club thing.” Isabelle glances around, but we’re secluded in the corner here, with nobody to hear. “Have you always been into it? What happened to make you, you know…?”
“A Dom?” I finish. “Nothing happened. I’m not one of those guys working through some troubled past,” I add. “I just discovered that this was my particular preference, that’s all.”
Isabelle looks disappointed with my answer, so I expand. “Several years ago, I dated a woman who told me about working as a Dominatrix. She told me how she felt when she had a whip in her hand. Powerful. In charge. Something about it fascinated me, so I researched it more. I discovered pretty quickly that I had no interest in being dominated myself,” I add, “but it was the other side that drew me in. The balance of power, the psychological side of sex. It turned me on in a way I’d never felt before.”
Isabelle watches me, and bites her lip. “Why do you think you like so much? I mean, it’s pretty weird, isn’t it?” She flushes, and I can tell she’s trying to wrap her head around not just my tastes, but her own reaction earlier tonight.
“It’s not weird at all,” I say calmly. “Sex is about trust, intimacy. And giving up power to someone—or taking control of that power—is a natural extension of that trust. Our sexuality is more interesting and complex than we often give it credit for,” I add. “Why settle for something boring and rote, when you can discover who you really are?”