Page 233 of The Dommes

“You know, what would this world be like if we made the same observations about you?” I don’t care that she’s shushing me so she can answer her door. “‘Put your pussy away, Kathleen, we’re in church.’”

Yeah, that’s the last thing we hear the moment she opens the door. Wish I kept talking.

Because fuck who is caught pounding on the door and then spilling into Kathleen’s apartment, teeth bare and ready to bite.

“Oh hell no!” Kathleen latches onto Stephanie’s arm and attempts to drag her back into the hall. “Get the fuck out of here!”

I intervene, but only because Stephanie looks like she’s out for blood and about to claw out Kathleen’s eyes. Which would be a shame, because my Katie has the most gorgeous eyes you’ve ever seen.

Next thing I know, Stephanie May breaks free from our hold and lands most unceremoniously in the middle of Kathleen’s living room floor. As I’m about to kneel and fetch her, all the while telling Kathleen to call security, I get… a slap on the cheek. Classy.

“Fuck you, Ira Mathison!” Stephanie struggles to get back up. “I don’t know how you found out about me but fuck you.”

I raise my hand. “That was my mother. You stole her ex-husband. She was pretty pissed.”

“I don’t care who it was!” Has she been drinking? Either that or crying a fuckton. Probably both. She’s lost a lot recently. “It’s because of her that my career is ruined and I’ll never get work again.”

“Uh, no, pretty sure that has to do with you being a shitty mother and a big fat liar.” I watch Kathleen shut the door with a look of “Why do we have to do this?” on her face. “I mean, really? Lying about your age by a whole ten years?”

“What’s wrong, Ira?” Stephanie stumbles where she stands. “Pissed that I’m older than you?”

“Nah, but you lied about it. You had to have known there was no way you would keep that… wait, how is this Kathleen’s fault?”

Stephanie cackles. And I mean cackles. Like, has this woman been appearing in movies as witches and banshees when I wasn’t looking? When we dated, Stephanie was poised, flirty, and fun. I wouldn’t have dated her otherwise. Is this how she is? Is this the bullet I dodged when I shouted Kathleen’s name while fucking this other woman? Wow. What a fateful night.

I apparently owe Kathleen a lot.

“You mean she hasn’t told you?” Kathleen steps forward, but Stephanie continues. “Your slutty girlfriend has been paying me off to keep my mouth shut. Until she wasn’t paying me anymore. Then I had to let the tiger loose if you know what I mean.”

I look at Katie, but one thing sticks out to me. “It was you who leaked us to the press?”

“I had to! I told Blondie that if I didn’t keep getting my money, I would tattle on her kinky lifestyle. Though I’ve heard you’ve done that on your own recently.” Stephanie continues to laugh, a little maniacally, a lot of levels of weird. “You two really deserve each other.”

“Me? What did I do?”

“Really?” When Stephanie narrows her eyes at you, it’s almost as scary as when Kathleen does it. “You think it’s not uncouth to say the wrong woman’s name during sex?”

“You’re still hung up on that, huh? Sorry. Turns out my heart only beats for Dommes around here. Don’t think you fit that bill. You’re too naturally submissive.”

“Don’t categorize me you piece of shit!”

Well, fucking, well.

I’ve had a hunch recently that Stephanie is a bit… unwell. Maybe not unwell. I don’t want to make it sound like such people are bad and terrible, but there is definitely something going on in Stephanie’s head. Otherwise, there’s no way to explain her lying about being ten years younger, abandoning her child, and sucking everyone around her dry.

I’d feel bad for her, especially since her promising career is tanking, but she’s been hurting the people I love. For that, I can’t forgive her. Or pity her.

“I’ll categorize you as much as I want, Stephanie.” I approach her, cautiously, because we all know you don’t go running up to a bear going HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY. I may be bigger than her, but she’s the one on the defensive. “It’s my job to categorize people. I do it in my professional life and my personal life. And you? You’re what we would call a bratty sub. When you’re not pleasing your dominant to manipulate them and get your way – which, by the way, makes for a super shitty BDSM relationship, not that you care – you’re acting like a brat until someone has to take matters into their own hands and force you to obey.”

“That’s sick,” Stephanie spits. “I knew you were a sick pervert, but I didn’t know you were into assault too.”

Whoa boy, that is some serious fucking tension in this room.

“You misunderstand me. The sub wants to be controlled and put in her place. That’s what she gets off on and what appeals to her side of kink. It’s all consensual with safe words and extensive conversation beforehand.”

Kathleen’s hand snakes over my shoulder. She leans against me, smiling deviously. “What do you think, Ira? This pain in our ass is the bratty kind of sub. Assuming, of course, she’s into that.”

“I am not.” Stephanie is vehement, but I see the tell in her face. A blip of uncertainty. A flash of… consideration. Eyes glazing over in fantasy. Ha. Ha.

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