Page 41 of Minha Dona

Caitlin in her apartment. Caitlin meeting Isabella. Caitlin at her parents’ beach house, barefoot on the sand. Caitlin in her bed, in her city, in her life.

Ask her.

Soon.

Chapter 15

That morning session was its own form of exquisite torture.

Helena had to pay attention to the presentation and the panel discussion, for the simple reason that if she didn’t then she’d look like a fool if one of the partners wanted to talk about it, and looking like a fool was a pretty surefire way to not get invited back again next year.

But… with Caitlin sat just a few rows in front, directly in her eye line, it took a significant effort to focus on anything being said up on stage. She’s there, right there, and she missed me as much as I missed her.

And so on… again and again, each time she thought she was concentrating she’d spot Caitlin again and think about her.

Helena was tempted to pull her phone out and message her, try to play the game they’d played at the town-hall meeting in Houston where Helena had given Caitlin instructions and watched, enthralled, delighted, as Caitlin obeyed, but she didn’t, for two reasons.

First, Caitlin was due up on stage after the morning break to give her presentation on modern data environments, and it was absolutely essential, even more so after hearing about her experiences with Zoe, that Helena respected Caitlin’s professional life. Messaging her to get her to say something or touch her necklace a certain way or sit in a particular posture would be fun, yes, but it would also send entirely the wrong message to Caitlin about what it could be like between them long term.

And second, there was the question of practicality… she was wedged between a partner on one side and another high potential attendee on the other, and there was zero privacy. Even with all the best will in the world one of them couldn’t help but see the messages she’d be typing, and since nobody in that room was lacking in the intelligence stakes it was entirely plausible that they’d work out that something was going on when they saw Caitlin respond.

So… patience. Ironic given how she preached patience to her submissives, but patience was key. That and using every ounce of her will to focus on what was happening up on stage.

It was a long morning.

***

When the panel ended Helena headed for the coffee break, giving Caitlin the professional space that they both needed. They both moved in separate orbits throughout the break, though Helena would be lying if she claimed that she wasn’t constantly aware of where Caitlin was and who she was talking to.

Helena returned to her seat five minutes before the second half of the morning started and opened her notebook.

A piece of paper fell out… a folded piece of paper that hadn’t been there before the break, and it was heavier than it should be, something inside the fold. She unfolded it and couldn’t help but grin:

Room 1805. 1.15. Don’t be late. Don’t be early. I’ll be hungry. C

Within the paper was a keycard, hotel-issue, white with the logo on one side. She quickly pocketed it along with the note, her pulse surging as she looked around the room to check that nobody had seen. There were only a handful of people present, though more were filtering back in by the minute. Helena watched as Caitlin made her way to her seat, talking animatedly to a couple of colleagues, all three of them laughing at something as they settled back down. She didn’t even glance Helena’s way, no acknowledgment whatsoever.

She’s magnificent, truly magnificent, Helena thought.

The session was good, all the easier to pay attention to in the knowledge that Caitlin had something planned for lunchtime. Caitlin’s session was the best of the morning, even if Helena would readily admit to herself that she was biased, but while modern data environments had the potential to be somewhat dry Caitlin somehow elevated it with a mix of humour and some well-chosen case studies that brought the topic to life.

Helena was sure that she wasn’t the only person in the room who saw, in that session, exactly why Caitlin had the nickname of FMP. She was deeply impressive, giving no impression at all that she’d just been promoted. This was her natural environment and Caitlin was spectacularly good at it.

Of course, alongside it all, her mind thought about what might be about to happen in room 1805. She formulated and rejected six different theories about what Caitlin had planned, realising that she just had to wait and see.

At 12.58 the session ended. Helena gathered her things, walked to the restaurant, showed her face for exactly twelve minutes, just long enough to eat one of the biscuits and make small talk that she’d never remember with the Berlin office invitee, and then excused herself, claiming a client call she couldn’t miss, trying to hide her excitement.

Don’t be late. Don’t be early.

Helena smiled to herself at the thought that she’d need to remind her Gatinha who it was who normally gave the orders.

This once, though, she’d definitely let it go.

***

At the precise moment that the clock on her phone turned to 1.15, Helena tapped the keycard and opened the door to room 1805.

Caitlin was standing in the middle of the room in just her lingerie and heels. White, simple, beautiful. The conference outfit was gone, the partner who’d stood up on stage not an hour before and commanded the room was gone, and in her place was simply Caitlin in a bra and underwear, as well, of course, as the necklace, her hair loose, her eyes bright.