Page 158 of The Dommes

So coming to The Ruby Peacock once in a while means I get to see some pretty nice clothes that all seem brand-new to me.

There are a few dresses I might try on when Eve’s finished. A little black number that’s off one shoulder and sports diamonds along the hem. Another is a deep, forest green and has a mosaic sash to die for. Then there’s this soft blue number that would look great with my hair.

I wonder which one Ira would like most.

Damnit.

“Well?” Eve walks out – in flats, this time – and shows off the white dress. White is way more her color than red, but that’s beside the point. We’re supposed to be looking at the cut and fit of the dress in the hopes of dyeing it later.

Eve has a difficult frame to work with. She’s supermodel tall, has bony shoulders but a wide chest. Her hips are about average, her abs muscular, and her thigh gap the envy of every woman we know – don’t ask her how she gets it, because it’s purely genetics. Eve knows how to dress in pants to make her look great, but dresses and skirts are a different story. Especially with the blond pixie cut and a demeanor that screams butch in charge.

The bust accentuates her breasts while the straps blend into her collarbone. The dress cinches at the waist and ends above the knee. Gertrude comes out with a diamond-studded belt to show how the look can be accessorized. Yes, the dress is stupidly simple, but that’s what a woman as striking as Eve needs.

“Get it,” I say. Then, to the girl with the champagne, “How about those color swatches? I think my friend would like to leave before she has a brain hemorrhage.”

Eve clasps her hands and dramatically thanks me, Gertrude heaving her own thanks beneath her breath. The girls here work on a nice commission.

The swatches come out. Everyone blanches at the red oranges against Eve’s skin. The pinker we go, the more we laugh. Yet when we go darker, to the crimsons and the scarlets, her pale skin is so washed out that I can only feel sympathy for her.

“I’m tired. I don’t care what color it is. Make it not look like shit on me. That’s all I ask.”

Isn’t that the only thing any of us asks?

They have to wait for the woman in charge to come in before they can continue, so Eve sits down in her white dress and encourages me to try on some clothes. I take the opportunity to try on those three dresses I mentioned earlier, disappearing into the changing room with Champagne Girl and letting her help me so she can get her commission.

I don’t bother walking out with the green dress. It’s hideous!

I parade the black dress out, however, and Eve is too tired to do more than whistle her approval. After some turning on the dais, I’m convinced it flatters my ass enough to be considered for purchase.

The blue dress, on the other hand, is the one that rouses Eve from her slumber.

“Honey, if we weren’t friends and I didn’t feel like shit, I would be hitting on you.”

It doesn’t only flatter my figure. The blue does exactly what I anticipated with my hair – namely, make it one of the focal points of my look. I can’t help but grin at the way it rests on top of the sultry blue.

For the briefest second, I wonder what Ira’s favorite color is. I don’t think I’ve ever asked. I bet it’s a shade of blue.

“Since you’re a verboten lover, though,” Eve continues, “I’ll have to consider it from the point of view of someone like your boi-toy.” She sticks her hand between her legs and gives me a thumbs-up. I know what she really means.

“Shut up.”

My blushing gives me away. “Uh-huh. You know they’d rip that dress off you in two seconds. Or at least want to.”

Gertrude chooses that moment to walk away. Champagne Girl politely moves off to the side and pretends to be disinterested in our conversation. Thank God Eve didn’t mention Ira by name, because these girls are notoriously chatty with each other.

“Hm. You didn’t admonish me and say that they’re not your girlfriend. I see how it is. When’s the wedding? I want to know if I can wear this dress twice.” She winces. “And make sure I get to be your maid of honor. I lost that to Jamie fucking Joy this time. Did you know that she and Monique are bosom buddies? What a wild world.”

I’m barely listening. She lost me at the wedding talk. “We’re not getting married. Not tomorrow, not in a year, probably not in a decade.” Even if Ira and I somehow became engaged, I doubt I would go through with a marriage anytime soon. Too much to deal with, both realistically and emotionally.

“Come on. Humor me. You have hardly said a thing about you and them since we last talked about what they do to you. What’s new?”

I keep my lips shut. I still haven’t told Eve about submitting. Of course, if any Domme were to go easy on me for it, it would be her, my best friend. She may not get it, but I don’t think she’d treat me much differently. Still, I haven’t been able to bring myself to say anything to her.

Because at the end of the day, I’m still embarrassed by it.

And now Ira wants me to be a 24/7 submissive for a few days. For some stupid reason, I agreed to do it. Don’t ask me why! I suppose I’m curious. She says it will be the last of my training before… before what? Before I’m capable of being her submissive at a moment’s notice? That I could submit to another Domme if I wanted? I have no idea what it means. Not sure I want to know right now.

I don’t even want to know what she has planned for me. I know one thing I’m demanding of her, and that’s a couple of hours a day when I can take off the collar and be my own woman.

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