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I glared across the table. “No, of course not,” I snapped before lowering my voice. I couldn’t lie. “They’re vetted. I don’t have any choice in the procedure. Look, I came to talk about money matters, not my relationship with my husband, which isn’t any of your business.”
Mark held up the palms of his hands as if to placate me. “No, sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I’m curious as to why you picked me. Now I know you didn’t.” He shrugged and extracted a piece of paper. “You said taxation was a key concern. Let’s start with that.”
The conversation progressed into financial areas and fiscal issues. Mark proved to be knowledgeable and competent. Unlike the start of our meeting, he stayed clear of condescending remarks and neither did he rib my obvious lack of expertise. He talked through options and made suggestions. After two hours, which included working through a coffee break, we’d covered all my areas of unease.
While I sucked up the dregs at the bottom of my plastic cup, my mobile rang: Jason’s ringtone. I closed my eyes, inhaled through my nose, and answered it.
“Have you finished yet?” he barked.
My spine stiffened, drawing me up. “Almost. Why?” Across the desk, Mark’s eyes widened, and he glanced at his wristwatch.
“I’ll come and fetch you for lunch. You can tell me what you’ve found out.”
I ducked my chin, trying to speak into my lap. “You’re coming here?”
“I believe that is what I said.”
I turned away from the desk, attempting to cover my face with a lock of hair. Did he have to sound so bossy! What was it with men and me that day? Everything they did or said to me put me on edge, the kind of edge where my wayward imagination might wander and break into the realms of fantasy. The more Jason interfered, the greater my annoyance, but also I’d love him to show his dominance to Mark, remind him who owned my submission. “Where do you want me to wait?” I asked.
“Are you still with Mark?”
“Yes,” I hissed, and I couldn’t resist teasing my husband. “If you can find his office, you could meet me here,” I suggested.
“Find his office?”
“It’s a rabbit warren here. I got lost.”
Jason snorted. “Doesn’t say much for your navigating skills, does it?”
“You know this building better than me. Mark suggested you need an interior designer here.” I glanced over to Mark. Irritatingly, he didn’t look fazed by the conversation—he reclined in his chair and smirked.
“Did he? So you’ve been chatting about things other than work, have you?” He hung up, and I stuffed the mobile back in my handbag.
Mark collected his paperwork. “Your husband is coming here?”
“So it would seem.” Agitated, I tapped the edge of the desk with my finger. Nerves were getting the better
of me, and I’d the sensation they were about to get worse. “He’s definitely up to something. You Doms, do you have a manual on humiliation? How to wind your sub up in three easy steps?” I frowned.
“Manual? I wing it myself. Far more fun.” He tossed the folder into a drawer.
My mobile bleeped. A text message from Jason.
: take your knickers off.
No, not now! I rubbed my temples with the tips of fingers, willing myself to move. Mark gave me directions for the bathroom and once there, I removed the requested article of clothing and stuffed it in the zipped compartment at the front of my handbag.
Another text arrived as I re-entered Mark’s office. I stood half in, half out.
: Did you take them off in the toilet?
I gave an affirmative reply.
: I didn’t tell you to use the toilet. Do it again properly.
“Oh fuck!” I exclaimed, grabbed my handbag, and went back to the toilet. I put my knickers back on, returned to the pokey office, slammed the door shut and stood in front of the desk like an errant schoolgirl. Thank God, I had a skirt on. I swallowed. Did Jason know I wore a skirt? What the hell would I have done if I’d been wearing trousers. Mark scratched his head; all my coming and goings must be confusing.
I spoke through gritted teeth. “He’s doing this because of what you are. You know this don’t you? This is why he wanted you as my accountant.” I reached down, fumbled under my skirt, and hauled off my knickers, squashing them in my fingers.
