Page 95 of The Dommes

Each hole in the chain is filled with a sparkling diamond. Since the holes are tiny, the diamonds are too, which means they glitter but don’t stick out too much. Kathleen could dress up a casual outfit with this or be perfectly presentable at a formal event.

Not to mention how it would look when it was the only thing left on her body…

I double-check the quality of the diamonds and ask where they come from. I may be a rich bastard, but I’m not without a conscience. Once I’m reassured, including with paperwork, that the diamonds are wholly ethical, I tell the saleswoman to box it up while handing over my credit card.

“She’s a lucky woman,” the saleswoman says.

I break eye contact with her before she can flirt with me any further. Trust me, I know the difference between a polite salesperson and someone testing my boundaries. If I weren’t seeing Katie, I’d probably flirt back and see how submissive this woman acted.

“Have it delivered to this address by tomorrow.” I slip the woman a piece of paper with my address on it. No way I’m carrying that thing home. Katie doesn’t know it yet, but I’m hoping to wrap that pretty choker around her throat this Wednesday night.

Two days. I hope she’s ready.

I barely have my things together when I receive a call from my mother. The cool city air feels refreshing on my face as I step out to answer my phone.

“Ira!” I rarely hear her this flustered, and I immediately stop in the middle of the sidewalk. The sound of a taxi nearly mowing down a poor pedestrian almost drowns out my mother’s voice. “Are you anywhere near the hotel?”

My family owns multiple hotels, but I know she means The Ace. “I’m about four blocks away. Why? I’m not due there today.” I’m taking today off to run errands, like buying my girlfriend a collar. Well, that’s the fun errand, anyway. The others include a bank trip, a meeting with a shipping company, and a couple of other things that need to be done but are so boring my mind is numbed thinking of them. Administrative work. Ew.

“You need to get your ass over there. Your father is already on his way.”

“What in the world is going on?”

My mother cuts out as I jog up the sidewalk, wishing the lights around here weren’t so long. By the time I make it to the block The Ace is on, my heart stops.

People. No. Protestors!

There must be two dozen of them, each wearing a cheap white T-shirt that says “SAVE THE ACE!!! SAVE OUR COMMUNITY!!!” Their signs aren’t much better. A bunch of homemade shit that shows pictures of my family’s logo slashed out in blood red.

Great. Great.

My mother finally comes back on the phone. “Protestors are raising a big stink and the media is swarming the place because it’s a slow news day.”

Sure enough, I see two local TV vans parked across the street, one news crew setting up and the other already making the rounds through the protestors, looking for juicy interviews.

No way am I going in there by myself. I wait for my father’s sedan to pull up and join him, pretending that we’re some unstoppable Mathison force.

I feel like I’m ten again, and not in a good way.

“Please, we’re just doing our jobs.”

It’s the foreman, caught in a corner outside of The Ace. Two reporters are beating him down with questions, and all the man wants to do is get back to work with the demolition crew. “Most of our contracted work is finished, anyway. What do these people want us to do? Go put it all back together again? Most of that stuff was rotted out!”

“Excuse us.” My father uses the weight he’s gained with age to push through the crowd and take over the show. This will either end with him being God’s gift to diplomats or…

“Mr. Mathison! What do you have to say about the accusations that you’re destroying a cultural institution?”

My father falters, sputtering at such an unfounded thing. I have to admit that I’m rather incensed as well. What the hell is this bullshit?

“I can answer that, if I may.”

The protestors mutter as yet another person pushes through their ranks. Even though I recognized the voice, I’m still surprised to see Kathleen appearing through the fog of white T-shirts. Her look is all business. I thank the Lord that she has her hair up and looks like such a… hot… professional.

Oh, boy.

“The Ace is undergoing a renovation, it’s true,” she says in front of the cameras. Somehow, she manages to keep her composure and an even voice. She also does a bang-up job shoving the foreman out of the way and taking center stage in front of reporters and protestors. I’m scary close to her. To the point that I can smell her perfume.

It’s taking every bit of self-restraint I have to not smile like I’ve won the lottery. Most inappropriate for the situation, Ira.

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