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The conversation that we had last night, now that it’s daytime and I’m thinking clearly, I’m not sure why the life that he described seemed so plausible. Matthew is a good man, and I think any woman would be lucky to have him. But you don’t build a relationship on inequality and the belief that one person is less than the other. There’s a whisper in my gut that says that I’m being stubborn, and that’s not what I meant, but I shove that whisper down. It’s not what good relationships are made of.
I do my make-up and hair again. Matthew didn’t tell me I had to, but I don’t want to walk into his office looking like I just rolled out of bed. Then again, there might be a certain appeal in that…
The lingerie he left is simple: a plunging black bra and black boy shorts. The black is stark against my skin, emphasizing how little it covers. If I didn’t already know what he did for a living, I might think he has a future as a fashion designer, based on the fact that he seems to be able to pick things that are spot on for me.
Wandering out of a bedroom in underwear in a house that isn’t mine is still a little weird for me, but I do it. I retrace my steps to the main entry and try to remember where his study is. I think it’s in the opposite direction from my bedroom. I’m barefoot, and I make almost no sound moving across the floors, and for a second it feels like I’m in a mystery story and I’m looking for clues in the giant, abandoned mansion.
With that in mind, I jump when a woman in black jeans and a black shirt comes around the corner. I gape, because other than the guests yesterday, I hadn’t seen anyone in the house. But the woman doesn’t miss a beat. “Good morning, Miss Emma.”
“Good morning?”
“I’m Julia, one of Mr. Forester’s staff. Are you looking for him?”
She points further down the hallway I was walking. “End of the hallway and take a left. I’m sure he’s expecting you.”
I blush because I’m in my underwear, and she doesn’t even blink as she walks past me on whatever task she was given. Not sure why I didn’t think he had staff. I suppose it makes sense—that immaculate breakfast yesterday didn’t appear out of nowhere, and unless he has a lot of time on his hands, he didn’t cook it himself. Besides, with the animals he keeps and a house this big, of course he has staff.
When I reach the end of the hallway, I hear his voice from behind a door that’s open a crack, and I do recognize it. But I probably would have wandered around for a while first. I push open the door, and find a very different Matthew. He’s on the phone with his back to me. He’s in a t-shirt and jeans and the casual look suits him. Those jeans aren’t hiding his spectacular ass.
He smiles when he sees me, and gestures for me to wait. I do, and I look around more thoroughly than when he brought me on the tour yesterday. The windows in the office overlook the back of the property, and it’s a hell of a view. Built-in bookshelves are lined with leather bound books. I see every subject imaginable from the predictable books about animals to books on history and music. There are comfortable chairs and a fireplace, and I can see him sitting in here reading a book, perfectly content.
If he had his way, he’d be sitting with a woman at his feet. God knows what she’d be doing. I ignore the image of myself there, maybe reading a book of my own. That image makes me hesitate, because I don’t know how it makes me feel. Part of me wonders if would really be that bad? And instantly the other part of me roars that it’s not okay to even think about that.
Matthew finishes his conversation and I hear him hang up. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” I say, turning back to him to find him smiling.
“I had a supply issue in Montana. Otherwise, believe me, I would still have been in bed with you.”
I let a small smile through. “I ran into Julia.”
“Oh,” he says. “Sorry about that, I should have warned you. My staff are all either involved in the lifestyle are fully aware of my involvement. On the extremely rare occasion I host submissives, they all know that they’re to treat them with the same respect that they treat me.”
“They’re used to people walking around in their underwear?”
He chuckles. “I wouldn’t say they’re used to it, but Julia is a Domme, so it’s not anything she’s unfamiliar with.”
