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“How do you know—?” I start, but he cuts me off again.
“I make it my business to know. I understand that this is not a normal occurrence for people outside of the world of celebrity, but I can assure you it is how things are done in the world that Ms. Dante lives in. She cannot afford to take any chances. If you can read through the paperwork and sign where indicated, you and my client are then free to engage in any sexual activities you choose. As you can see on page five, we outline and list some of my client's preferences and what we mean by certain terms. By signing this agreement, you acknowledge that you will not discuss my client with anyone. No one is to know any details of your liaisons, that includes specifically any members of the press—during or after the fact. For recompense for agreeing to the terms of this agreement, you will receive a financial incentive of one hundred thousand pounds that will not only serve as a thank you for your discretion but a binding term of the agreement that you will not disclose any information now or in the future in regards to time spent with my client or her sexual orientation or preferences.”
I take a moment to let all that sink in. It doesn’t seem real. I have to sign a contract? I’m going to be paid to keep my mouth shut? A hundred thousand pounds? What on earth are these sexual preferences of Dahlia’s? What world am I even living in?
“I know it is a lot, Alexa,” Dahlia says softly and breaks my current trance of incredulity. I nod to her, words failing me because I know that Mr. Suit is completely right; these things might be very common practice in their world but they most certainly aren’t in mine.
“You are going to give me money? Doesn’t that make me some kind of…?” I let my words trail off as the statement is left unsaid. Dahlia starts to shake her head, and I watch Mr. Suit keep his lips firmly closed for the first time.
Dahlia is the one who speaks. She looks up at me. “No. The payment makes it part of the contract; it is what binds it, if you like. Right now, it seems like an insult and you may want to argue that you don’t want it. But think about the future, think about the things it can give you and then if you don’t want it, you can give it away, a charity or something. Do something good with it. Help someone you care about. I don’t know. Put it to good use. I have plenty of money; it might seem like a lot to you, but it is nothing to me.”
I stop and try to take a deep breath. The thing is that even now I am totally attracted to Dahlia. I can feel her energy in the room like a magnet. When she moves, I sense it. I have never seen a person that oozes so much raw sexual energy, and I feel like I see it in waves through the air. Calling to me.
Sex is just sex. I don’t do relationships but I do enjoy sex. I know that she will be electric sexually and I will enjoy every single inch of her. But we have never even kissed. I don’t know anything about her sexually and maybe I am signing myself up for a fall.
Then I think to myself… So why does it matter? I can sign the papers, if nothing happens, I won’t lose anything, and it’s not like I would tell someone anyway; I am such a private person. I pick the papers up and begin to thumb through the pages once more. I pretend to know what I am looking at, but if I am being really honest my only reference for this is totally fictional from a Mr. Grey and his 50 shades. I never rated those books, and I have an idea his story was entirely unrealistic.
Not like this. This is my real life and a very wealthy famous woman is offering me money and a contract for sexual services.
My eyes catch page five and my fingers hover … Marks left on Ms. Dante’s body must be able to be covered … no breath play but gags may be used … dominance permitted with the guidelines of sexual pleasure only … no photographs when tied … shared only if agreed previously …?
The words swirl in my head.
“Dahlia, I don’t know …”
“We are unable to discuss the contents of page five further, Ms. Sharpe, unless you first sign the documentation.” Mr. Suit cuts through me like a knife and I find my curiosity explode. I have experimented a little in my time, and I’m certainly not a prude, but the things listed… I have only seen them in porn or read about them in erotica. I have never tried them myself. I know I am naturally dominant when it comes to sex. I know what I like, what I want, and it makes me feel good when I claim that from the other person. I like to tease, to edge, and then take what I want. But I would never categorize myself as a Domme. I have never been anything further than assertive, but even now as I think about it… my thoughts jump through images of Dahlia naked and bound and entirely at my mercy, Dahlia naked and on her knees begging to please me, Dahlia bent over and opened up for me, and I find my body responding to them, feel the tingles between my thighs as I…
My gaze drifts upward to meet Dahlia’s. I can see her thoughts are there too. Her skin is slightly flushed, her pupils dilated, and I wonder if I were to brush the tips of my fingers over her panties if I would feel a hint of her wetness as she thinks about me taking everything I want from her.
I reach for the pen as I fix my gaze on hers. I want her to watch me, to read my mind and my thoughts as I sign, to know I’m not doing this for money or a quick fuck. I’m doing this because I want to have her in every way I possibly can. And as if she can read my mind, I watch her cheeks flush deeper as her teeth run lightly over her lower lip in nervous, needy excitement.
As soon as my name is etched and my pen lifted from the paper, I see her visibly relax as though she can finally let down her guard with me.
“Okay, Ms. Sharpe, we can now go through—” Mr. Suit begins to talk, but I’m kind of fed up with his presence.
“You know, I think Dahlia and I can talk through it together. I’ve signed the agreement so there isn’t anything more for you to be concerned with right now.”
It is a dismissal, and though I can see he wants to argue with me, he has lost my attention and Dahlia’s too. With nothing more than a nod, he collects the signed papers from the table.
“Very well then,” he adds stiffly. “This is your copy and I highly recommend you read through them. Ignorance won’t get you very far in court if you were to break any of the agreement due to unknowingly not following one of the rules.” He stands slowly, and as a professional person with a set of morals, I try my best to hide my disdain for him but it definitely is not easy to do. “The money will be in your account in a couple of hours.” He nods to Dahlia and then leaves. I don’t move until I hear the lock click on the door and then I settle back in my chair.
It is strange but I feel no nerves. It’s almost like I hadn’t realized what I wanted, what I craved until I read those words in the agreement and saw Dahlia visibly giving herself over to me. But now those images have passed through my mind and I can’t switch them off. I can only see her, me, us in various tangles of sexual exploration, and I want it. I want it so fucking bad.
Dahlia eyes me; she is waiting, perched at the edge of her seat. Waiting hopefully.
I feel like I need to take this moment to be entirely honest with her.
“I need to be totally honest with you. I have never done most of this- the BDSM stuff. I don’t know what I am doing. I can only follow my instincts and trust in you to guide me and communicate with me. To tell me if I am going in the wrong direction.” I am open with her, earnest. I want us to have that trust. An open book and understanding of what we are stepping into.
She looks at me with a serious look on her face and her green eyes are clear and ever lovely.
“That is all you can do. I have books. There are websites where you can learn. I know some clubs. You will learn. Most of it will come naturally.” Her voice is slow, her words are deliberate and her southern drawl is something I will never tire of. “I will show you what I like, but I can feel the dominance in you. I know you have what it takes to take me where I need to go. I can see exactly what you want from me.” Her voice is husky, dripping in sex, and she sounds so fucking hot I want to tear her clothes off, but I don’t need to, she slips off the chair and starts to strip.
4
As an athlete, I am very aware of myself and my body. I can usually tell you my own heart rate after a few seconds, and I can lower it quickly with specific breathing techniques. I understand the effects of hormones, especially adrenaline, and I can control and manipulate my endorphins to boost my performance as and when necessary.
The moment Dahlia rises from her chair I feel my heartbeat quicken, and I can see it in her longing eyes that she needs the reassurance that I want her. The public façade of Dahlia Dante is dropping faster than the rain in England, and I am reading her constantly to see what she needs from me.
