Page 159 of The Dommes

It’s hard for me to think about this because I’m hanging out with my Domme friend and trying to have a good time at a boutique. So I ignore Eve’s prying about my sex life with Ira and tell Champagne Girl that I would like to ring up the black and blue dresses. I hand her my credit card and continue to admire myself in the mirror. I have a tailor who can make the minor alterations necessary to make this dress really pop.

She returns not even five minutes later. “Ms. Allen,” she begins sheepishly. “I can’t charge this card.”

“What?” My veins thicken as I take the card and wonder who the hell I call about this. Eve sits up in her seat and watches with intrigue. “It didn’t go through?”

“Oh, I didn’t run it.” Poor Champagne Girl looks like I’m about to smack her on the head. “There have been very specific instructions left regarding any purchases made by you.”

“What?” I haven’t been here in at least four months! The last time I came here everything went smoothly. What the fuck is going on? “You’re shitting me, right?”

Girl is cowering now. No. No, she is not shitting me. As I imagine the fucking worst, she says, “Someone has offered to cover all purchases you make here.”

I lower my scolding finger. “Excuse me?”

“The note says that a separate card is to be charged anytime you want to purchase something from our boutique. I’m sorry if I frightened you, Ms. Allen.”

Who the fuck is buying clothes for me?

Oh, no. I know who it is.

“This very generous benefactor’s name wouldn’t happen to be Ira Mathison, would it?” My hands are on my hips, and Eve is cackling behind me. “Because you can tell them to piss off for me. I will buy my own clothes.”

Champagne Girl doesn’t have to tell me. I know it’s Ira. She probably did this after I agreed to her upcoming submission game.

There are a lot of things I’m willing to play around with. Having her pay for my pretty dresses is not one of them.

Who does she think I am? One of her lower-class girlfriends she can “spoil” with treats from her money? I don’t think so! My father’s been spoiling me since I spilled out of my mother’s womb. Before that! Shit, I remember him telling me that my mom would take “in utero” French lessons. Meaning she paid for a French tutor to read stories to me in the womb. I would like to point out that I don’t know French, so that was a waste of money.

I know I was whining about having to pay Stephanie May 50k a month, but I’m not that hard up for money. I can drop a couple of grand on these dresses and barely see it nudge my bank account. What I will see, however, is the way Ira looks at me when I show up in a dress she bought for me, and not as a present.

As a favor. A courtesy.

Fuuuuck her.

“I don’t care what Ira Mathison says. I will be buying my own dresses, thank you.” I shove my credit card back into Champagne Girl’s hands. “Although…” On the couch, Eve is still giggling, her dress bunched up around her waist and her straps slipping off her bony shoulders. “I’m sure they would love to make their contribution to the Warners’ wedding celebrations and pay for a lovely bridesmaid dress to be tailored and dyed.”

“Oh! Ira’s buying me something?”

I grin at my friend as Champagne Girl walks away, this time with the intent to run my credit card. “Seems like it. She’s not buying me anything…”

“Dearest Kathleen.” She’s awake now. So awake that her legs are crossing and she’s leaning forward, that glint of making trouble in her eye. “Why is someone like them trying to buy you clothes? Don’t they know you can afford your own well enough? You’re not Jamie Joy or, dare I say it, Monique.”

I roll my eyes. Yes, those women don’t have anywhere near the amount of money I have, but last I heard Monique makes a hefty sum from her business and Jamie has plenty of her own personal funds from her girlfriend. For them, however, part of the thrill is their women buying them niceties. Pretty sure women like Monique, who are lifestyle submissives, get off on it.

I don’t get off on it!

“Hey, if your lover wants to get me some clothes, far be it from me to tell them otherwise,” Eve says with a wink. “I don’t have nearly the same amount of money as you do.”

“One day you will. Finish grad school first.”

“Feh. Grad school.”

“I know. I remember.”

After changing back into my day clothes, I leave Eve to deal with the woman who will dye her dress. This is after making sure my card was charged for my clothing. I hope Ira enjoys knowing that she bought Evelyn Warner a bridesmaid dress. She’ll probably give me an earful.

I rather hope so.

Since I don’t live too far from the CBD, I decide to walk home as opposed to hailing a cab. One of these days I’ll get a car to roll around in. I’m not big on driving, though, and cars are boring. I’d rather be driven around, and that is an alternative I can look into. But it’s bothersome finding a driver and a car. Annie could do most of the filtering for me, but at the end of the day, I still need to make the time to interview and find a driver I trust. Plus paying them.

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