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18 - Manson
As I pulled the Mustanginto the parking lot outside Anthony’s, nerves roiled through me in a slow, thick wave. But it wasn’t the sickening dread of anxiety, it wasn’t mind-numbing, heart-pounding panic.
It was the kind of nerves I experienced before a race, when the rumble of the engine seemed to move through my entire body and take over everything. Or before a bondage scene, when I had my subject on their knees waiting for me; knowing I had the power to hurt or pleasure or destroy at will.
It was a headrush, a flood of power that was so fucking sweet it was like a drug.
For a moment, I had to sit there in silence, eyes closed as I let my energy settle. Jess and her date would be here any minute, but she wasn’t here for him.
She was here for me.
After locking up the Mustang, I headed for the entrance, buttoning up my jacket on the way. I hadn’t worn a suit since Kathy and James Peters renewed their vows, and it was easily the most expensive clothing I owned. I didn’t even know how much it had cost exactly, since Kathy had bought it for me.
There was something grimly satisfying in experiencing how differently people treated me when I exchanged ragged jeans and boots for a perfectly tailored suit. When walking into a nice place like this, I was usually under scrutiny from the moment I came in the door. But the host greeted me and led me inside without any issue.
I took a seat at the bar, taking a few minutes to soak in the atmosphere before I looked at the menu.
This place was pricey, upscale. The lighting was romantically dim, the bar backed by a massive surface of reflective crystalline tiles that caught the light and the colors of the liquor bottles. White cloth covered the tables, candles flickered. Gauzy red curtains and potted plants afforded a bit more privacy to the tables, but I had a good vantage point from the bar.
I saw her as soon as she walked in.
Jess was ravishing in every sense of the word. Her hair was fixed half-up with numerous little pins that glittered in the light, the loose length falling over her shoulders. Everything she was wearing, I’d chosen for her. The silver heels, the figure-hugging pale pink dress, even the lingerie she wore beneath. I pulled out my phone, opening the photo she’d sent me earlier as she was getting ready.
Words weren’t enough to describe her. A glimpse of her was enough to get me hard, and I had to angle myself toward the bar to hide the bulge. But I kept my head turned slightly in her direction, not wanting to take my eyes off her for even a moment.
At her side was Greg — tall, dark-haired, square-jawed. He actually looked a lot like Kyle, which immediately revolted me. The host led them past me, and as Jess walked in front of me, her eyes darted over.
It drove me wild, the way her gaze lifted to my face and said a thousand things in the space of one breath.
Longing. Submission. Obedience. Excitement. Her body language was perfect. She carried herself without a single indication of what was really going on.
She was here for me. For my pleasure, awaiting my orders. Greg — poor fuck — didn’t have the slightest clue. He was too busy talking about himself, droning on and on as they were seated. Jess smiled and nodded politely. I had yet to even see her open her mouth.
Why the hell was this what her mother chose for her? Some self-absorbed guy who could sit there bragging about himself when he had a woman like that in front of him? God, anything I had to brag about — and I didn’t have much — was utterly forgotten at the sight of her.
There wasn’t a single material thing in the world that could come close to being good enough for her. She deserved so much more than that.
Motioning for the bartender’s attention as he walked past, I ordered a Sazerac and settled in to watch the show.
Greg suggested they order a bottle of wine. Jess wanted white; he explained why red was better, and I sipped my drink to cool the anger that flared up in my chest. This fuck was already unbearable.
The bottle arrived, and she tasted it. By the way her lip twitched, I knew she didn’t like it.
After letting them get settled in for several minutes, I caught the bartender’s attention again. “Would you mind pointing me to the restroom?”
He directed me to a back corner, where there was an archway framed by flowering plants. Catching Jess’s eye as I got out of my seat, I turned and headed straight back.
It was easily the nicest public restroom I’d ever been in. An orchestral melody played from the speakers, and I paused in front of the large mirror, washing my hands before I adjusted my collar. Vincent had said I should wear a tie, but I really wasn’t about that shit, suit or not. I’d left the collar unbuttoned instead.
Waiting for Jess felt like the longest couple minutes of my life. But I’d told her not to make it too obvious, not to get up too soon after I did. Someone came in, used the urinal, and left. Then the door opened again, and heels clicked across the floor...
She stepped around the corner, and it took my breath away for a moment. She looked eager, but uncertain. Excited, but slightly afraid.
Perfect.
She came to stand in front of me as I leaned back against the sink. Her eyes glittered with makeup, her lips a soft shade of mauve. It fascinated me how she could do that, transforming her face like an artist.
Although, I loved her bare skin the most.
