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“Don’t worry I will pay the outstanding rent. I’m going to give you an allowance for clothes and you need buffing up a bit.”
I blanched at this thought. What was wrong with me the way I was?
“People will expect you to have a certain appearance if you are going to appear on my arm at high class functions,” he frowned because I was still pouting at him.
“I thought you liked me as I am. You said I’m beautiful.” I looked down at my hands.
“Oh good grief, Gemma, yes you’re beautiful, but I mean eyebrows plucked, facial, manicures, your hair needs tidying up. I want you to be elegant and beautiful,” he sounded a bit frustrated by my sulk.
“I’m beautiful?” I repeated back at him.
“Yes, you silly girl,” he was starting to look cross with me. I changed the topic quickly.
“I’m moving in with you?”
“Yes, weekdays we’ll use my townhouse, Piedmont, weekends back here. You’ll get use to the routine,” he swallowed a mouthful of wine as I sipped mine nervously. “This is what we agreed remember? You quit your job and we take the relationship to the next level, see how we cope with being in each other’s company on a daily basis.” He raised was eyebrows at me, expecting an affirmation.
I was excited at the way the relationship was evolving. To live with him and be near him was going to be thrilling. When he suggested we lived together, as part of his proposal, I had envisaged an arrangement where we would be socialising and not ensconced in his houses.
“I just want to clarify.... you know... when I’m your sub. To be honest I’m confused about what to expect.” I kept my head down, twisting my fingers around each other on the wine glass stem.
“Oh for fucks sake, Gemma, just look at me. We’re having an adult conversation.”
I matched his gaze with my flinching one.
“You know how to behave in my lair, that’s not an issue. Out here, we’re equal but if I want sex, you will comply as a submissive. You’ve understood up to now. This afternoon, you enjoyed yourself around the house, I don’t see the issue,” he talked as a businessman, negotiating from the high ground.
Parity outside his lair except when he wanted fun. However, confusion reared, how he initiated play was not clear to me. When I was to be his submissive felt slightly vague and inconsistent. I wanted to understand his intentions, but at the same time, I did not want to appear uncooperative.
“When you snap your fingers... and tell me to go down on...” I stumbled over my words; I found it so difficult to read Jason’s mind.
“You’re my submissive sexual partner and simply put that is it. My sexual being for my pleasure. The rules apply wherever, especially touching yourself, you’re mine to enjoy nobody else including yourself. However, I will only expect you to behave outwardly as a submissive when I request it and in private. Good grief I don’t expect you to go down on your knees in public,” he pondered for a minute and small smile appeared on his face. “Though the thought is tempting...”
I turned bright red at his last comment and let the matter drop. Later, in weeks to come, I regretted not tightening up on the nature of our agreement.
Chapter 12
Jason had let Martinson into the house. The multi-tasking driver-come-security chief had pulled up in the car ready to take me home. However, first he had to do my thumbprint for the pool room access. I was waiting by the CCTV room.
Martinson gave a small smile and waved me into the room while Jason hovered in the background. Martinson fired up the relevant software and held out a small infrared pad. He gave me instructions and checked the print was correctly captured. I tried to engage Martinson in some kind of friendly conversation. Jason shuffled with irritation behind him. Martinson was uncomfortable with my informality and I fell silent as he completed the process.
“That’s all logged and ready for you to use.” He stood up straight and nodded to Jason.
My elbow was taken by Jason and I was swiftly led out of the room, his breath was warm against my neck, like this morning when he blatantly ravished me on the bed.
Outside Jason dropped my bag in the boot space and slammed it shut. I was standing against the door waiting for Martinson to finish up indoors. Jason stood over me trapping me with his arms on either side of the car. He suddenly felt very tall and imposing. I pressed myself further back. He bent, taking my lips in his and kissed me quite passionately. His body was tantalising close but not touching me, only his lips. I groaned fractionally the sound transmitting into his open mouth. Over his shoulder I saw Martinson waiting diplomatically in the porch way, staring down the tree lined driveway to the distance gatehouse. Jason eased back and opened the door for me. I climbed in gracefully and he bent down to look at me as I settled myself in, reaching for the safety belt. This would be the last time I would have to leave him on a Sunday.
“Goodbye, Miss Marshall,” he said quietly.
“Goodbye, Mr Lucas.”
Martinson was in the driver’s seat now and starting up the engine. Jason shut my car door and turned to walk indoors. As Martinson put his foot on the accelerator, Jason turned back, pivoting on his feet and gave a small wave: Yes!
Sunday afternoon, I composed my resignation letter to Andy. I gave no reason for my departure. I did not think I had to give a reason for leaving though I knew he was going to ask. It would have helped if I had said I had another job, but Jason had not revealed what he had up his sleeve on that one.
First thing Monday morning, after my usual session in the gym, I headed into Andy’s office. He looked up when I tapped on his door. He seemed to be surrounded by printouts and disorganised heaps of documents, so unlike Jason’s meticulous piles of paper.
I advised him to read my letter immediately and his face was one of surprise and disappointment. He wanted a reason. Was I unhappy or did I have another job lined up? He leant back in his chair and ran his hands through his greying hair, he was older than he looked and perhaps growing tired of his work too. He had lost his poise very quickly when Jason had walked in on our meeting.
