Page 82 of The Dommes

“Because it’s true. By the way, how was Stephanie’s pussy?” I drink some water. “I know you think she’s me and all, but…”

“Why you gotta go there?” Ira is too relaxed from her drink to be offended. “That happened one time.”

“Yes, but it happened.”

I’m flirting with her for the first time in weeks. Probably because this is the first time in a long while I’ve felt comfortable around her. She has yet to make a move, let alone do something that makes me uneasy. I sit here thinking, “Well, we’re more than likely having sex tonight.” As the night wears on, I feel better about it. Not that I didn’t feel okay with it before – plus, I could always say no if I decide it’s not in the cards. There’s a good amount of power in that, even if she’s calling the shots.

Tonight, she is totally not calling the shots!

“I think you like tormenting me,” Ira says, leaning across the table. We’re sitting opposite one another, but the table is small, and it’s not difficult to slip my foot out of my heel and play with her ankle. The smile that instantly lights up her face as she realizes what I’m doing spurs me on to tuck my toes beneath the hem of her pants. “Yes. You like tormenting me.”

“How do I torment you?” My arms are crossed on the table, pushing my cleavage forward so she sees deep into it. Her eyes are not on mine. “Spare no detail, Ms. Mathison.”

“You damn well know how.”

We hold our mutual gaze until I break with a snort. I don’t get it. I’m Kathleen Allen, Domme extraordinaire, and yet staring down this woman makes me weak in the knees and want to hide my blush in wine.

“You are so stunning,” Ira murmurs across the table, fingers trailing up my arm. Her light touch makes me shiver, although I do an admirable job containing it. “Women like Stephanie May don’t even compare to you because you are so much more… woman?”

“So suave.” I pretend to be disinterested in her explanation. “So good with words. Ira Mathison, the person who will transform The Ace, ladies and gentlemen.”

“Another testament to what you do to me. I can’t even find my words anymore.”

Wrapped around my wrist is her hand, not tight, but noticeable. I imagine her hands all over me, squeezing my breasts, fondling my thighs, and of course… this time I can’t contain my shiver as I think about her spanking me, fingering me, and holding me down like…

Shit. See what she does to me? I’m not myself.

Apparently, she isn’t either.

We could talk about it. We could sit here, over dinner, discussing why we act like this around one another. She and I both know that it won’t end well. At present, we’re feeling pretty comfortable around each other. Why would we disrupt that with talk of Domming and subbing? Why would we want to drag that up when this is supposed to be a date night? This is as good for her as it is for me… right?

I think she knows to avoid the topic. So she talks about her mother’s latest shenanigans dating some retired European soccer player and going on some sex blog to talk about this guy’s drill kick skills and how mortified her offspring would be to read it.

“I don’t really care,” Ira says, her hand still wrapped in mine as we ignore our cooling dinners. “My mother’s been dating guys left and right since the divorce almost a decade ago. Probably before that. They weren’t exactly monogamous… ever.”

“They told you this?”

“Hell no! I heard it from other people, and they’ve both dropped hints. Did you know they still hook up?”

“Why in the world did they get divorced if they still like each other and are okay with seeing other people? That makes no sense.”

Ira shrugs in that lackadaisical way that’s starting to turn me on more and more. This is someone who gets her shit done and still knows how to relax. That’s admirable. “Principle of the thing. They weren’t in love, apparently, and their prenup said my mother got half the fortune if she stuck it out for at least twenty years. I think it was an image thing for my father.”

“So when they hit twenty years…”

“She filed the day after their twentieth anniversary. They were on a second honeymoon in Italy when the paperwork arrived!”

“What?”

“I’m serious. Dad was angry for about two seconds because of the inconvenience she caused. Not to mention she sort of ruined the vibe of their supposed romantic getaway.”

The Mathisons are certainly interesting people. Everyone knows how unpredictable Carolyn can be, but you don’t hear much about Donovan. Ira has always taken more after her father, but I think I sense streaks of her mother in her.

Would she spring a divorce on me if we got married?

What the hell! Why am I thinking about marriage?

My hand falters in hers, and the next thing I know I’m shoveling food in my mouth while Ira peruses the dessert menu. She orders a piece of gourmet chocolate cake, which is promptly brought out the moment I push aside my empty plate.

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