Page 25 of The Dommes

She glares at me. I’m sure this isn’t how she wants to savor whatever afterglow we have.

“A week ago, when we were at Midnight…”

Ira snorts. “That was fun, having you watch me.”

“Yeah, about that.” My fingers linger on her leg. I wait for her to curl our hands together again, but she doesn’t. “I was in the room next to you guys. I… I heard everything.”

She’s silent for a long time, and at first, I wonder if she didn’t hear me. Might be best that way. Somehow, I can’t believe that I shared that at all. Then again, what? Was I going to take it to my grave? That I heard her say my name on accident during sex with another woman?

“Is that so?”

Her voice is noncommittal. Probably because she just had an intense orgasm and is now shutting down.

“Why did that happen?”

“You’re seriously asking me that?”

“Yeah.”

Ira’s leg moves away from my touch. Her hand goes to her prosthetic and removes the condom. “Why do you think it happened?” She reaches for a tissue on Annie’s desk and wraps it around the condom. The trash can is on the other side of the room, not that I want her to throw it away in here. Bathroom, Ira. Take it to the bathroom.

I pull my legs up and wrap my arms around them. It feels weird having my body all to myself again. It feels even weirder saying that. “Because you wanted me?”

She’s staring at her crotch, but I don’t think it’s her equipment she’s considering. “Would it freak you out if I said I was imagining that you were my date?”

“Freak me out? No. Although you might want to get your eyes checked. She’s way hotter than me.” Skinnier, for one.

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re gorgeous.”

Ira says it so smoothly that it’s like she doesn’t even realize she’s saying it. Nevertheless, I gaze at her, Ira’s profile striking in the shadows. I smooth down some of her short bangs with my fingers.

“Kiss me.”

She does, lips fervent but gentle. I let mine linger until she pulls away, my hair gliding against her arm.

I know we’re not going to have sex again. A part of me wants to savor this for as long as possible. Why? I don’t know. It’s not like she and I will ever… that we could ever…

It wouldn’t work out.

Ira gets up, hands fumbling to clean herself up and become more presentable once again. She leaves her shirt untucked. It doesn’t matter this late at night. “I think I’m gonna head out. Stop by the bathroom first. You know…”

“Uh-huh.” I follow her out of the office as soon as I put myself respectably back together. We go our separate ways down the hall, the scent of lavender smacking me in the face when I enter a single-stall restroom.

I look at myself in the large mirror above the sink. My hair is completely disheveled. My breasts are still hanging out of my blouse. Navy blue cotton hugs my ass but is all disjointed in the front. I look like a woman who has just been fucked.

While I fix my clothes, I leave my hair. Who cares?

And why should I care that the office is empty when I get back, Ira’s belongings gone, like her?

Chapter 11

Ira

The day is beautiful. Just the right temperature, enough clouds to keep me from burning in my light linen clothes, and so little humidity that I don’t have to worry about sweating in front of the hundreds of guests my father has invited to my childhood home.

Once a season, Donovan Mathison throws the biggest party around. Sometimes he has to skip one, but he doesn’t like to. You see, these parties put up the front that it’s all about unwinding from the hard world of business or whatever the hell people do, but in reality, the people he invites are either his business associates or people he’s looking to court as associates.

At least my father has the greatest party planning assistant on this good green Earth. The woman knows how to throw a shindig, even if I want to be here half the time.

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