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It had been five days since I’d seen him last, and it felt like an eternity. We talked and texted all the time, even did a few video chats, but we both had busy lives. Still, despite giving myself a stern talking to, I’d missed him terribly. Shyla said I was pining after him like some swooning chick in a regency romance missing her beloved who was off to war.
I didn’t think I was that bad, but I had been a little mopey.
And I might have sketched a couple dozen images of Tyler in various states of dress.
But now, finally, I got to see him again.
Next to me, Shyla stopped, the beads on her purple, almost transparent dress brushing her thighs with her abrupt movement. We were both dressed to kill in couture club wear—me in a liquid gold dress that barely brushed my upper thighs and dipped down so low in the back, you could see the dimples above my bottom. My simple gold mask matched my outfit, and Shyla had helped me dust on some gold body glitter that made me shimmer with every breath. She’d also helped me do my hair, so it hung down to just past my shoulders in big curls.
Some people might find it confusing that I didn’t always want to play a little. Being a little was something I enjoyed, but not my entire life. Much like Shyla, I enjoyed playing with different kinks, experimenting and enjoying new things. While being a little was the core of who I was as a submissive, I also enjoyed playing the role of seductive siren at times.
I was, however, wearing a large gold script pendant on a slinky gold chain that read ‘Daddy’s Girl’ in curly font. It wasn’t a collar—I wasn’t nearly ready for that—but it was a public declaration that I was comfortable stating that I belonged to my Daddy.
Knowing that Tyler could see me, knowing he enjoyed showing me off to his co-workers, put an extra strut in my step as I tugged at Shyla’s hand. “Come on.”
“Promise me, again, I won’t have to see you and Tyler have sex.”
“I swear. If his penis jumps out, and I fall on him in the split second I see him, I’ll be sure to yell our safe word on the way down.”
Giving me a snotty look, she adjusted the shoulder strap of her sparkly purple dress, her dark brown and black streaked curls bouncing as she gave them a little fluff with her hand. “Thank you.”
“Come on,” I tugged at her hand again. “Let’s go.”
Grinning, she followed me to the doors where a guard opened them with a smile. “Good evening Ms. Shyla, Ms. Isabella. Mr. Skyler said to tell you that he should be down in around twenty minutes. In the meantime, enjoy yourself.”
Shyla looped her arm through mine and led me through the little darkened alcove to the large room beyond. It was done in sleek silver and neon, an homage to the 70s disco era that harkened back to a time of big hair and no inhibitions. The music was both retro and excellent, and Shyla and I were already shimmying in our heels as we made our way to the long bar that dominated the wall to the right. Taking a seat on two empty black velvet stools, we both smiled at the eager—and incredibly good looking—buff and shirtless young bartender who came to take our order.
“Ladies,” he purred in a Hispanic accent that was pure sex, “how may I serve you this evening?”
“Manuel,” Shyla purred right back. “You’re looking particularly delicious tonight.”
“I heard you were coming, Mistress Shyla, and thought I might be able to tempt you into playing.” He gave Shyla a look so hot, my girl parts clenched in response. “I even wore my vibrating tongue.”
Fanning myself, I said, “Okay, enough of that. Who-o-o, you are potent. Hi, Manuel, nice to meet you. Could I please get a peach Bellini?”
He gave me a dazzling smile—friendly, but dazzling, nonetheless. “Of course, Ms. Isabella. Or do you prefer to be addressed as Princess Isabella?”
“Just Isabella is fine for tonight,” I said, hoping the lovely shifting lights from the dance floor hid my flush.
Turning his gaze to Shyla, and ramping up the heat in his expression by like a million, he said, “And what can I get you, lovely Mistress? Anything and everything I have is yours.”
“Just a beer for now is fine.” She paused, her demeanor shifting slightly to a more dominant pose as she leaned forward, displaying her considerable cleavage, “What time do you get off tonight?”
His slow smile made heat unfurl in my belly as he purred, “In an hour, Mistress.”
“Perfect,” her gaze flickered to me as he went to make our drinks. “You know what, let’s do a couple shots.”
