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“Is that all that men are to you, nice gifts?”
She shrugged, then eyed me a bit circumspect, “You don’t like me much anymore, do you?”
“What makes you say that?”
“The derisive way you speak of me.”
“I’m not being derisive. We just have different priorities. Of course, I like you. I love you, Cass. I just don’t understand you.”
“Maybe I feel the same about you.”
“I’ll bet you do. You never have gotten over the fact that I enjoy being a lowly research assistant.”
“You’re right,” she completely agreed, then sighed. “Now, I have to go to the powder room. Care to join me?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“You’ll stay for dessert?”
“Of course. It’s always the best part at restaurants like this,” I flashed her a great big grin.
She smiled warmly—a good signal that she’d forgiven me. I watched her moving away, swishing her ass inside its expensive clothing, wishing I could get my hands on it just one more time.
I leaned back feeling reasonably content with my meal and this latest meeting with Cassandra, thinking that we might just be on for another year. Even now, I planned to pump her for the juicy details of her romances, if she’d give them. Just as I relishing the idea, and forgetting the man across the room, I was suddenly pulled from my pleasant musings by the arrival of a waiter, carrying a silver try, carefully covered with a lace edged linen napkin. On top a note.
“If you’re looking for my dinner companion, she’s in the ladies room,” I offered.
“This is for Miss Sinclair.”
“Oh? That’s me.” He nodded as I reached for the envelope. “Thank you.”
He nodded again and left me alone to read the disturbing contents of the message:
At the end of your meal, once your dinner companion has left, descend the backstairs of the restaurant and enter the restroom there. Remove your clothes, turn out the lights and lean against the wall, palms stretched high above your head, your legs wide apart. Leave the door unlocked and wait.
No. No, no, no, my frantic mind began to pace like a caged animal. I glanced toward Ellington Lloyd across the room, seeing him, as if in slow motion, still gesturing broadly, still deep into negotiations with the other parties at the table. I stared around looking for another face I recognized. There were none. Yes. It must have been him. There just weren’t any other possibilities.
My fear was mounting rapidly, stirring my tummy with arousal, dampening my pussy, making my body ache and my skin tingle with the expectation of my master’s touch.
No, please! Not in a public place! My rational mind tried reasoning with this insanity, but that had already proven useless.
By the time Cassandra returned to the table, I was both anxious to leave and afraid to. I didn’t know whether to drag out the dinner with dessert and coffee, or change my mind and abruptly excuse myself to complete the inevitable assignment. I elected to stay, but my mind was hardly on my friend. I took two bites of the gooey chocolate cake and then pushed what was left around the plate with my fork. Cassandra noticed my odd behavior—I could tell by the look in her eye, the way she raised her eyebrows—but chose not to say anything. I could sense the questions she wasn’t voicing. I’m sure my sudden change in behavior was suspicious and it surprised me that she let it pass. Maybe she understands that some things just need to be overlooked. In the past, she let no unusual behavior go quietly. But our relationship had changed with time, so that neither one of us wanted to invest in intimacies with someone so far apart in morals, opinions and lifestyle. Sure, I’d see her again, though I realized how insignificant she’d become to me. I spent that last half hour wishing that dinner were over. I was so titillated by the suspense of what would come next that I chose to leave first. I took the bill myself, which I hadn’t done for a couple of years since the inequity of our financial situations had become appallingly obvious. I could afford the gesture this year, however. In fact, it gave me back some power I’d lost to her. She was shocked and I so enjoyed her startled expression. I paid in cash, discreetly laying several bills inside the leather folder as I excused myself.
“You know I really have to go. Can I drop you somewhere?”
“Oh, heavens no!” she recouped quickly. “I’ll take a cab, though I wanted to look in the windows of that boutique down the street. Oh, well, maybe I’ll stop there tomorrow before my flight leaves.”
“Well, it’s been peachy, as usual, hon,” I gave her my 100-watt smile. “Our lives just seem to clip along in the same old ways.”
“Yes, I suppose they do,” she replied. For a brief time, she looked at me so longingly that at any moment, I expected her to proposition me.
“Until next time,” I threw in hastily, giving her a womanly hug, nothing intimate, just the expected gesture of affection. Afterwards, I’ll remember that hug for the tremendous pulse I felt between my thighs. I swear it wasn’t just my master calling me to the scene below. The real heat came from Cassandra. Maybe she wanted to relive that a
fternoon in the dorm room, but I knew then that the time for such things had passed. Oh, we could have been so much more! But the direction my life was moving in was so much more satisfying. I would have declined any offers—of course, none were extended. Cassandra understood, just as I did that the times had vastly changed.
We parted with her heading out the door to hail a taxi, and me on the way to the ladies room. Although as soon as she was on the street, I scooted out of the restroom alcove and made my way through the bar to the back stairs, finding them exactly where I expected them to be. My heart was pounding in my chest and my hands trembled so that I almost stumbled on the first stair. Good thing I didn’t; it was a long way down, a steep straight, narrow, rail-less staircase. I would have tumbled to my death for sure. For a few seconds, I stood at the top of the stairs hanging on to the doorframe, assessing my behavior, trying to get a grip on my wits. Deciding that there was little difference between my previous assignments—and surely my mystery man had taken care of any risks—I finally, carefully, descended into the dim basement of the building.
At this point I was certain that Ellington Lloyd was my unknown master. All the clues pointed to him. The coincidence of his being at the restaurant only signaled the obvious fact that our relationship had progressed significantly, and he was ready to make himself known. One mystery solved. That I had prior suspicion of my master’s identity took a bit of the pleasure away, but I reasoned that Ellington Lloyd was, with his presence in the restaurant, giving me assurances, something to trust, particularly in this unfamiliar territory.
