April 2015
±1±
“Criminal is …harder. The human rights stuff it’s just…I don’t know messy”, Professor Taylor said as he turned back to the bartender and gestured again for his vodka soda with a twist of lime and splash of orange juice, “Corporate law…that’s where it’s at.”
Professor Taylor gave a lazy flirtatious smile to the bartender. He’d been trying to pick her up since we sat down and hadn’t listened to a word I’d said. To think I’d been excited to have a law school advisor who was only a decade or so older than me.
“Professor Taylor”, I spoke over the crowd to get his attention, “I actually want to focus on public policy and human rights. To be honest process law is kicking my ass. Do you have an advice-”
“It’s all about memorization”, He cut in, and “You’ll be fine. I like you Paris. You’re kind of nervous but…laid back. That’s why I knew you’d be cool meeting here. God, where is that drink?”
I fought the urge to gesture around the crowded bar filling up with people waiting for tables in Marabella’s dining room. It was a busy Saturday night and Marabella’s was not an ideal place to have my weekly meeting with my law school advisor. I hadn’t been ‘cool’ with meeting here, but when I’d arrived at his office for our appointment he was heading out the door.
“Um….so”, I steered the conversation back my law school career, “Now that I’m almost done with my first year of law school I was thinking of looking for an internship with the U.N—“
“For what?” he said as a group of well-dressed tourist filtered into the bar, “You in for what?”
“Internships”, I said a little louder. Taylor nodded and launched into a spiel about the importance of law school internships. I took a cautious sip of my dark red wine and nodded along.
Then I heard it.
That laugh.
Her.
I turned around to check the crowd behind me.
Nothing.
I peered over Taylor and to the back of the crowded restaurant.
There.
I spotted her long golden bronze hair being coiled around the finger of a nervous older gentlemen. She laughed again at something he said and her seemingly positive response delighted him. Her laugh was as intoxicating and fake as the Tom Ford label sewn into her flowy white dress that left one sculpted arm bare.
She put her arm around the guy and his mouth split open into a big smile. The Grin. That self-satisfied smile men got when they thought they’d done something to earn the trophy they clearly paid for. There was another couple seated across from them, an attentive blonde playfully feeding her date dessert.
“Paris?” Professor Taylor waived his hand in front of my face, “Are you okay?”
Fuck. I’d been staring.
“Sorry…I…”
Professor Taylor turned around to see what had distracted me.
“Brunette or blonde?” He asked with a wry smile.
“…Brunette.”
He turned to take another peek.
“Seriously, you might want to swear off girls at least until your second year.”
“Guys too?” I asked.
“…uh…yeah.”
Taylor turned his attention back to the busy bartender to inquire about his complicated drink. He was distracting the bartender and she accidentally dropped a tray of glasses. Half the restaurant looked up. Including her. She was briefly taken aback to see me here of all places. Fuck if the lighting in that restaurant didn’t do something to her ocean blue eyes.
I subtly bit my lip and tried to read her expression. She looked at her date then at me again. Her date look harmless. He was having a good time and held out his wallet so she could pick which shiny credit card to give to the waiter. She playfully pretended to keep the card which he loved. She had him wrapped around her finger.
I picked up my red wine when she took her date’s arm and let him lead her pass the bar toward the front door. I stood up suddenly and pushed my chair into her while letting my extremely dark red wine spill all over her white dress. Her date immediately rushed to grab napkins while she stared at the red stain. I readjusted my chair and turned back to my conversation.
“Oh my God”, she said.
“You should really watch where you’re going”, I responded wiping away the few drop of wine that landed on my skin.
She swiveled my bar stool around to face her.
“This was your fault”, she said firm but nicely, “You should at least apologize.”
Instead of answering I just turned back to Taylor who was too busy downing his drink to realize how rude I was being. Her date had begun frantically dabbing at her dress with the cloth napkins
“It’s okay”, her date said, “Let’s out of here.”
“This was my favorite dress. He should at least apologize”, she said.
“Really?” I said gesturing to her date, “I don’t appreciate getting bitched at by--
“Excuse me?” she cut me off, “You are going to apologize and pay to get this stained removed or …my date is going to fuck you up.”
The older guy panicked, “Uh. I can’t…you know what. Honey, I’ll buy you a new one. It’s on me.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Gary”, She said softly to her date then turned back to me, “He called me a bitch. He needs to apologize. Now.”
I pushed my chair out and stood. I channeled every bit of superiority I could muster and replied coolly.
“First of all… I didn’t call you a bitch. Second you don’t get to order me around.”
“Whoa---Listen”, her date said giving me a sympathetic look, “Look…Sir, can’t you just pay to get the dress cleaned? I think that’s fair.”
I sighed, “Fine. If that means I can finish my meeting in peace”
“It’s okay now, right?” Her date asked.
“Yes. Thank you so much Gary”, she said kissing the man who now felt like a hero.
She took a blank business card out of her bodice, then reached over and took the white gold Mont Blanc fountain pen clipped to my shirt. She wrote Apt P12 in perfect script on the card then handed it back to me.
“Bring your checkbook.” She said wrapping herself around Gary again, “I’ll get an estimate from the dry cleaner tonight.”
“Can’t I just Venmo—“
“I want a check”, she said turning back to her date and leaving without waiting for an answer.
“Holy fuck, Paris…there is more to you than meets the eye.” Taylor said laughing, “You really going to pay her back ?”
“I don’t think I have a choice.”
“Oh Fuck, Paris… I think she took your pen. Hope it wasn’t expensive”
±2±
Three drinks later I poured Taylor into cab and took the train to 48X48 SoHo. I strode through the lobby and checked in with the condominium’s concierge because I wanted her to know I was coming. On the long elevator ride to the top floor I studied my reflection in the doors. I looked okay.
I’d tailored my second-hand black oxford to fit and I’d found a pair of decent fitting slim cut pants at the outlet mall. My hair was neat and freshly trimmed. The dark circles under my eyes were hidden under layers of overpriced concealer. I touched my scars which I’d also started covering in makeup to make the discoloration less jarring when I was around people (like Professor Taylor) who didn’t know me well.
The 48th floor was lit with sconces and decorated with fresh orchids. Unit 12 was at the end in a small corner. I knocked on the door and heard some movement inside. When she opened the door she had on tight floor length silk black robe with long bell lace sleeves. The robe was clingy enough to show there wasn’t anything underneath. She had on ridiculous high heel bedroom mules which made her appear much taller than in the restaurant. Her small white gold dagger shaped earrings glinted in the hall light.
“How much?” I asked, “…I mean to get the dress cleaned.”
“…They won’t be able to get the stain out. It’s easier if you just buy me a new one. It’s only $1059 dollars.”
“I have $34 in my checking account,” I told her.
She leaned against the door frame, her long bare legs peeking out the slit in the robe. I stepped closer. She smelled like freshly applied make-up, hairspray and soap.
“That’s all you have?” she said skeptically, “What do you do?”
“I’m a full-time law student at Columbia.”
“That’s adorable.” she pushed the door open, “Come inside…I think we can work something out.”
The lights in the condo were dimmed and she led me over to the living space outfitted with a new modest black leather set.
“Sit”, she said and I did so without thinking.
She moved to a high back black velvet accent chair with a detailed baroque sliver border, it was awkwardly placed on the raised platform that lead to the balcony. She sat comfortably so her long legs were over the arm.
“Oh”, she said pointing to the counter, “I forgot the drinks. Can you grab them from the kitchen?”
I made my way over to where a tray was sitting with two plastic champagne flutes filled with what smelled like strong ginger ale. I picked up the tray and pretended not to notice the white pill rolling along the tray. Okay, she wanted to play hardcore.
“Is this okay?” I asked setting the tray down on a small table next to her chair.
“Perfect.” She said but she wasn’t looking at the tray.
“Is your boyfriend asleep? The one that was going to fuck me up?”
“He was just a client. You know…I didn’t like how you cursed at me in the bar and called me a bitch. It was…disrespectful.”
“I didn’t call you a bitch. But honestly you were kind of a bitch about it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You want the $34 dollars? I need to get home and study. “
“I was thinking”, she said, “I may have alternative ways you can pay me back.”
She sat up and casually put the pill in one of the flutes. I watched it dissolve at the bottom leaving a thin layer of residue.
“Like what?
“I work a lot. And…I need work done around the house. Cooking, cleaning, running errands…things like that.”
I cleared my throat.
“Working for a whore is a little beneath me.”
“What makes you say that?” She settled her legs back over the arm of the chair and stared into her glass. Serious and pensive. I wanted to make her laugh again.
“Beautiful, dating older men, nice apartment…pretty swollen cock-sucking lips.”
“No. I mean… what makes you think working for a whore is beneath you?”
“Okay. I’m leaving.” I stood up.
“…Well…at least finish your drink first. You only had half a glass of wine at the bar, right?”
“Yes.”
She inclined her head to the bubbling drink with the pill residue still at the bottom. I was game. I picked up the glass and she held out hers for a little toast.
“Cheers-“
Everything went black after that.
I woke up in a dark room with my arms bound to my side with thick black rope. My ankles were tied together and my mouth was gagged with soft fabric and a strip of duct tape. As my eyes adjusted to the dark the tiny black granite bathroom came into focus. I realized I was in the bathtub, the ledge was too high for me fumble my way out.
“Let’s start with the apology.”
I followed the sound of her voice to the doorway. She took a few steps into the tiny black granite bathroom and ripped the tape off my mouth. I coughed up the underwear I’d been gagged with.
“Fuck—“
Something wicked by my face and my cheek began to not so unpleasantly throb as blood rushed underneath. The quick tip of the leather crop snapped against my lip again. Instead of a throb there was a sharp warmth. I’d been cut.
“The only thing I want to hear from you”, she pushed herself up on the small bathroom counter, “Is an apology.”
“Fuck yo—“
She pressed a button and torrent of pressurized icy cold water spilled out the rotating shower head and pummeled my body.
“If you want you leave you are going to have take accountability for your bad behavior.”
“But I—“
She turned the water on again for several minutes. When she shut it off shivers ran through me.
“What do you have to say?”
I waited for the chill to wear off.
“Fuck—“
She turned the freezing cold water on again and this time she walked out the bathroom. I was starting to get a little red from the cold. My hair and clothes were completely drenched, my skin was numb and sore. I was so focused on the feeling I didn’t even hear her come back in and dump a bucket of ice over my body. The melting ice stung everywhere it touched. I flinched when she reached to turn the water on again.
“Wait. It was my fault. I’m sorry”, I said as a chill ran through me, “I’m sorry.”
“Should you have talked to me that way in the bar?”
“No. I was disrespectful”.
“Then why did you?”
Why? Why had I ever thought so little of her?
“I was intimidated.”
“You’re not going to make that mistake anymore, right?”
Never
“No.”
“Say it.”
“I’ll never disrespect you again.”
“Good. Let’s get you out of here”
She hauled me out of the tub and I was involuntarily drawn to the heat of her body beneath her robe but I was still bound tight. She smiled a little at my desperation to cling to her warm skin. She half dragged, half carried me back through the tiny bedroom and to the living room floor.
When she realized she couldn’t take my clothes off with me bound, she found a pair of sharp scissors and cut all my clothes off. She covered me with a large soft blanket that began to very slowly heat up.
“Isn’t that better”, she said tucking the electric blanket around me, “See what happens when you make me happy. Isn’t this better?”
I nodded.
She moved to sit on the floor next to me.
“Like I said. I need someone to take care of things for me. I’m very particular and I think my methods would good for you.”
“Why should I?”
“Because”, she lifted part of the blanket away revealing where I was naked and hard.
“It’s the blanket—“
“No”, she said standing up, “It’s the ropes. That feels good doesn’t it? Safe and secure. You like being bound like this…don’t you?”
She pulled on one of the knots and the ropes tightened. I don’t know why but that felt good. It always did. I felt focused and aware of myself. She sat back comfortably in her chair waiting for me to answer.
“Yes.”
“Good. But first you have work to do and it has to be up to my extremely high standards. If it’s not…well you won’t like that. If you do a good job and if I feel like it… I could take care of that.”
She pointed her satin high-heeled house shoe at my erection.
“I want that.”
“I know you do. First Get all that ice out the bathtub and the living room is a mess”, She indicated the clothes she’d cut off me, “You can also clean up the precum you’re leaking on my floor. “
“Sorry”, I mumble realizing I’m actually flushing. She gets up and takes her time strategically untying the ropes. My arms and legs get a steady systematic rush of relief.
“Here…put this on…” She handed me a bag of clothes, “You should get used to thanking for everything I give you.”
“Thank you.”
I head back to the bathroom to change. The clothes were brand new and fit comfortably; creased black pants, a belt and black button up that is a little small, a black tie with a gold clip and a comfortable fitting vest. No shoes.
I move all the ice out of the bathtub and see the cheap enamel has already started to crack. On my way back through the bedroom I notice the plastic champagne flutes from earlier. Mine is on a dresser with barley a sip taken out of it, hers is half full by a bedside table next to a stack of books I don’t know what compelled me but I poured the contents of my spiked drink into hers I don’t know why I did it. It could have ended very badly for me.
I headed into the living room and put everything back in its place. She watched with disinterest from her chair, filing her acrylics into soft points.
“I’m done—“
“You should really get used to asking permission to speak. You talk way too much.” She said absently. She looked up at me and instead of opening my mouth I just nodded in agreement. For the first time that night she really smiled.
“Come here”, she said.
I stepped in front of the chair. She picked up the ropes again. This time wrapping them tightly around my arms and wrist before bring my knees and ankles into a sort of hog-tie. She stepped behind me and gently tied a blindfold around me.
“Open”, she said and I could feel her kneeling in front of me
“Wh--
Before I could finish she forced a hard ball gag into my mouth.
“I’m going to evaluate you work now. I’m putting a quarter in your hand. Drop it if you need me” She yawned and I started to wander what time it was. I felt like I’d been discarded. There was literally nothing I could do. My mind drifted to the class project I had due on Thursday. I had a good group but the professor was-
No.
I said to myself in the dark.
This wasn’t the time for those thoughts.
I had to focus on the job in front of me.
After what felt like an hour I heard the click of her heels approaching me. I jumped when I felt her hands under my arms. She dragged me across the living and into her bedroom. She almost too easily heaved me onto her bed.
I heard her walk out the bedroom and I’m terrified she’s going to leave me like this all night. Then I hear her walk back in.
“Everything looks…acceptable. I guess that deserves something”, She said sounding disappointed I hadn’t fucked up, “But first I’m going to finish reading this chapter. You’re going to have to wait patiently. I’ll take this off so you can see me. Since, unlike my other sex toys, you can appreciate the view before I use you. Isn’t that right?”
I nod following the sound of her voice.
The bed dipped as she sat down. Her fingers teased my scar she took off the blindfold. Her painted skin looked flawless and every curve and cut of her jawline was accentuated with color. She wasn’t the least bit uncomfortable with me staring her.
She made herself comfortable on the bed and started to read a worn paranormal romance. I waited patiently and quietly knowing it was turning her on. Her nipples were tight and she could barely keep her knees together.
After ten minutes (and one page flip) she put the book away. She took the quarter from my hands and untied me. For the second time that night I missed the strong embrace of the ropes. She took the gag out and wiped my mouth. She frowned at the cut on my lip from the crop earlier. She took a little container of salve from her nightstand and applied it to the spot, followed by a drop of liquid bandage. She blew lightly to make it seal faster then brought a glass of ice cold water to my lips.
After I finished half the water she put the gag back in. I’d open my mouth just before she instructed to me and some of her control slipped. She ran her hand through my hair pushing back the few to long strands.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
I nodded.
She reached under the bed for a pair of burgundy patent stilettos.
“You like these?” she asked putting them on
I nodded
“I have something else you might like too. Give me your wrist.” She slipped a pair of gold metal handcuffs on my wrist and attached a short lead to the side of the bed. I was comfortably stretched across her oversized bed on my stomach. She gave me a small clear ball with lights to hold and presumably drop if I needed to communicate. She took my pants off and I got a little uneasy because I noticed a tripod in the corner.
“I’ll be right back.” She whispered into my ear and pointedly placed the tripod in her tiny overstuffed closet.
I could hear her moving in the bathroom. After a while the bed dipped as she settled on her knees behind me. Her sharp nails traveled down my back, she dug in a little leaving faint scratches. I pushed up so I was on my hand and knees
“Relax.”, she whispered into my ear, “Spread you knees a little. Show me where you want me to fuck you.”
I relaxed into the sensation of the pad of her slowly opening me and applying lubricant I bite hard against the gag, taking every inch of the smooth ridged strap on. I couldn’t see it but it was big enough to hit every sensitive spot.
“Fuck”, I sort of said through the gag.
The bed shifted slightly the harder she fucked me but she kept herself balanced. She grabbed my hair sending prickles of pain right down to my groin, her other hand reached around and pumped me slowly. It’s a lot. Too much and somehow not enough. The walls in the condo were thin and I’m thankful my embarrassing moans are muffled, especially when I choked on my own voice and ejaculated a lot more than usual on her nice bedspread.
“You just love getting messes on my things don’t you?” she asked rhetorically while working the bedspread out from under me. I could still see the outline of the fake cock beneath her robe and it makes my mouth water.
“I forgot to tell you the number one rule”, she said taking the gag out, “No coming without permission. You’re really not going to like what happens when you break one of my rules.”
She pushed up my shirt and ran the tip of her nails over my back. The first snap of her leather crop across my back sends a shock through me. I breathed and worked my way through the mounting torrent of burning pain
I wanted more than she thought I could manage. I could handle pain. I had my whole life. My childhood was all bloodshed, fear and pain—
I felt lightheaded all of a sudden. I closed my eyes and focused on the intense pain being inflicted on me. I needed to focus on that. I was afraid she was going to stop and then I’d have to face—I felt the pain flip for a moment into something indescribably intense. Then it faded. I felt a little drunk…a little out there in space. I jumped when I felt her hands and a cold cream on my back.
“You liked that didn’t you?” she asked but she wasn’t really asking. She removed all the restraints and laid down with me. She adjusted our positon so she could hold me against her chest. My lips were close to the sliver of hard tan skin the robe’s low neckline exposed. My thigh was awkwardly pressed between her damp ones. Whatever I’d endured that night it was made all the better knowing watching me had pleased her. I’d endure anything she wanted to put me through if it pleased her. It took all my will power not shift my position and push into her. Instead I answered her question.
“Yes”
“Why?”
Why? Did I feel like I deserved it? Did it give me a slight high? Was it just because of how perverse wanting that sensation of pain was? Yes. All of it
“I’m so fucked up.”
“No you’re not. You just have needs.” she rolled flat onto her back and stretched out on the bed. “I’ll always meet those needs, but you have to trust me just like you did tonight. You’ll do that won’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll follow every one of my orders?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now fuck your Mistress-“
“Yes”
I kissed her, mindful of the cut on my lip. I was suddenly anxious. I hadn’t fucked anyone since I started law school. I loved the way she opened her mouth for me and how her hands tickled the back of my neck. She relaxed into the pillows and pulled me on top of her. I struggled to untie her robe while she expertly removed my shirt and undershirt. I ran my hands through her neatly curled hair and kissed the deep shallow of her neck.
“You’re so fucking useless”, she said running her thumb over my mouth, “I told you to fuck me.”
She quickly flipped our position and moved to straddle me. The robe slid off her arms and gathered around her waist, I kept my hands at her hips so I could bear her weight as she started riding me. Her long hair fell into her face, I reached to push it back and I swear she almost bit me. She was rough and I knew I was going to be sore in the morning.
“…This is pointless isn’t you’re Paris, you’re just good for cleaning and being my little bitch. I need a real cock to fuck my cunt. You have no fucking idea what that means do you?”
I shook my head then realized she wanted a verbal answer.
“No”, I said because that’s what she wanted to hear, even though she was so wet I couldn’t feel anything.
She ran her hand up my chest and closed it around my throat. I let my hand trail along her spine and she loosened her grip
“You should be grateful I let you touch me at all. I bet this feels so good for you.”
“Fuck”, I adjusted slightly. It did feel good and the sex was only slightly amplified by the numbness and the sensitive marks on my back. Her shoulders suddenly relaxed and she pressed her forehead against mine.
“You’re… such a fucking….” she slurs, ”You’re so…fucking…useless…what did you—“
Her full weight crashed down on me and I felt her head lull against mine. She’d passed out…but I didn’t panic. I looked over at the night stand and realized at some point she’d drank from the champagne glasses I’d switched earlier. I had to not-so-gently roll her off me. I stared at the celling and listened to hear breath for a few minutes.
I tried to find sleep but it never came.
I Instead I took a cold shower. The shower had a built in dispensers, but I didn’t want to waste the expensive fragrant body wash and shampoo. I reached under the sink for a gallon sized a generic blue brands. It was next to a basket filled with travel sized toiletries and condoms—which I neatly re-organized after finishing my shower.
I slipped my new clothes back on and too a long look in the mirror. I looked like shit now without concealer covering my under eyes and scars. I went back into the bedroom, gathered the bedspread and slid the bedsheets off from underneath Sera. She was out cold and I’d be lying if I said she wasn’t more attractive that way.
I took the bedclothes and her hamper to the communal penthouse level laundry room in the hallway. I’d stopped by the kitchen on my way out to grab my messenger bag and cell phone. Seraphina’s phone had been right next to mine. For some reason I took her cell phone with me to the laundry room
I looked through Sera’s cell phone while waiting for the wash cycle. It was hard to tell what messages were real and which ones were fake flirting. I found a large video file that I thought was porn then I realized was video of her being fucked by some extremely muscular clean shaven guy in her bedroom. I fast forwarded to the end and played it.
“Holy shit”, he says and I picked up an accent. Midwestern, “Damn”
“I should be saying that”, Sera says kissing him. He seemed comfortable in her bed and turned on the TV in the corner of her bedroom.
“Why? Don’t you do this for a living”, he says
She throws a pillow at him, then wipes the streaks of mascara and eyeliner running down her face. Her eyes always watered when she was she came hard or multiple times during sex. It was a tell I’d picked up from watching her with other people.
“I don’t have sex with my clients. That’s illegal.” She says.
He gives her an incorrigible smile she almost copied. He looked young. Maybe 21.
“Look, Ser I got VIP ticket to the game in Montreal. Come hang with the other player’s girls.”
She looked crestfallen for a moment but found her way back to her usual stoic expression.
“I have to work.” she says.
“If you stick with me you won’t have to waste your time catering to those rich assholes.”
“They are not all assholes. Some of them are nice.”
“Isn’t that what all models turned escorts say”, he jokes but she didn’t seem to realize it was a joke.
“I’m not… a model. Or just an escort.”
“I know, Seraphina”, he says seriously giving her his full attention, “I definitely see you as more than that?”
“Trophy wife material?” she says diverting.
“Maybe”, he says
“Well. You have to get in line. I’ve already promised to be someone else’s trophy wife”
“One of your asshole clients?” he tossed the pillow she’d tossed at him.
“No.”
“Is this guy better looking than me?”
“Fuck No…”
He kissed her again gently and Sera said something to him that made him walk toward the phone and stop the recording.
I rewind the video a bit to watch the action. This guy was really fucking tall and built. They looked good together. Sera was hot and could be charming enough (when she wanted to be) to be a pro-athlete’s significant other. She deserved to have a comfortable life where she didn’t have to work and could be surrounded by supportive communities. With the way law school was kicking my ass I’d never be that guy. Also this guy also had an enviable enthusiasm for giving head.
I turned the volume up on the video and learned his name is Daniel. I eventually tucked her phone away and listened to my legal history lecture while finishing the laundry.
I headed back to the condo and draped the now warm comforter over Sera. I hung her street clothes in the tiny closet she kept her street clothes in. Meanwhile the three clothing racks squeezed into the tiny bedroom were overflowing with cocktail dresses, fetish wear and lingerie.
I switched my lecture out for music and straighten up the bedroom. I put away any clutter and reorganized the shelf where she kept her novels and countless non-fiction books on sex. I organized them by alphabet right next to her collection of independent artsy Sapphic pornography videos.
It was nearly 5am so I worked on the floors them grabbed a stool so I could clean the windows. Once that was done I meal prepped her salads for the week and tried to figure out all the buttons on her new stainless steel coffee machine. I was close to figuring out the grinder attachment when I heard a chipper knock at the door. Odd. The front desk concierge hadn’t announced anyone.
Was it Daniel? Did he know about me?
I prepared myself for a possible awkward encounter and reached for the door, it was halfway open when Sera rushed from the bedroom and moved me out the way
“Shit. Shit. Shit. No. I’ll get it.”, Sera swung the front door open and closed the robe she was still wearing,
“Fuck. Amelia. I’m so sorry.”
I glanced at the door and saw a young woman with curly red hair. I’d seen her before in the hallways and elevator. She and her roommates lived in the unit down the hall. Sera looked like shit, her hair was in a messy ponytail and her face was smeared from where she’d tried to quickly wipe her make up off.
“We had a schedule. Do you want to qualify for this marathon or not?” Amelia chastised but she was clearly flirting.
“I know. I forgot and overslept. Tomorrow? ”
“Okay…” Amelia said, “It looks like you’ve been very busy anyway. Oh! Is Daniel here?”
Sera tightened her robe but it was obvious what she’d been up to.
“No. We’re…he broke up with me.”
“Sorry to hear that…wait… so then who have you been fuc—“
Amelia seemed to suddenly notice me eavesdropping and I pretended to clean the counter while still eavesdropping
“I know you’re adventurous”, Amelia whispered, “But have you seriously been fucking the guy who cleans your house?”
“What? Oh, no Paris is my… “, she turned around and not wanting to bother explaining she shrugged it off and changed subjects.
Sera had lived in the building nearly a year and I hadn’t formally introduced myself to Amelia or any of her neighbors. I was only here three days a week and Sera usually kept me pretty busy.
“Maybe we should hire someone.” Amelia said.
“Paris will do it”, Sera said turning to me, “I mean clean your apartment.”
“Really?” Amelia said more to me than Sera, “How much?”
“He’ll do it for free”, Sera said.
“Is that okay?” Amelia asked me.
“Yes. How about next Thursday? I don’t have class.” I scribbled my number down on a blank card and hand it to her. Cleaning Sera’s neighbor’s apartment wasn’t quite the humiliation Sera thought it was. I’d started to find cleaning therapeutic. I liked putting things in their place.
“Thanks”, Amelia said then turned to Sera, “Tomorrow we do an extra hour of training.”
“Deal”, Sera said closing the door and turning to me, “You’ve been busy”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
She took a seat in her chair and gestured for me to bring her phone over.
“I can’t believe you switched those glasses”, she said scrolling through her phone, “That could have been dangerous.”
“Can I ask where you go GHB from?”
“I have a prescription.” she said, “It’s…hard to sleep sometimes. Sven has this doctor friend. It usually doesn’t really work for me...”
“Mixing it with Champagne was probably risky.”
“You’re such a lightweight. That was kombucha. I’m detoxing for the marathon. If you thought I was mixing drugs and alcohol you should have said something.”
“I trust you.”
“I trust you to tell me when something makes you uncomfortable,” she said but she wasn’t really paying attention, “I should at least go a quick workout done.” She said which I took as my queue to leave.
With Sven in Europe for the spring Sera was left to her own devices in the city. As per usual the only way she met people was at the gym. Her building’s two story luxury fitness center was where she got roped into rich-people-shit like running the New York City marathon.
“Is the marathon how you met Daniel?”
She looked up seemingly suspicious that I knew about Daniel, but then she remembered Amelia had mentioned Daniel.
“No. We met at this event while I was escorting. We just kept each other entertained through a really boring award ceremony. He said he was a Ranger and I thought he was in the military.”
“I’m sorry he broke up with you.” I said honestly. I worried that if Sera spent too much time alone she’d start drinking again.
“I really liked him. I mean… I told him I was into BDSM and I had a submissive… but I guess he thought I was joking? I showed him the gear in my dresser. He was into it until he realized I wanted to tie him up. He told a version of the truth on some radio show.”
I slid the New Aeterna ledger out of my messenger bag and started filling out a sheet of checks.
“He didn’t deserve you”, I said while quickly scrawling checks I’d written for tuition, books and rent. When I looked up Sera was wearing a white gold diadem with black and purple crystals in it.
“One of my clients bought this for their sessions. What do you think?”
“I like it.” I said bringing her the checks to sign. If I rushed I could catch the express train back to my apartment, “Can you sign these?”
“Get my pen.”
She pointed to the counter where the engraved white gold Mont Blanc pen she’d taken from me at the restaurant lay.
“Why is your tuition so high?” she asked. I was surprised she even looked at the amounts. New Aeterna took in a decent profit but money went out the second it was made. I’d become an expert at juggling the funds to cover expenses.
“I’m taking extra credits so I can graduate early. I had to move some things around but the money is there. I mean… if you’re okay with it.”
“I guess that’s fine”, she said carefully signing each check. I can tell when she gets to the check for my newest therapist because she hesitates before signing it. It was pricy but I’d gotten a good recommendation.
“I like this pen, where did you get this?” she asked, “It looks expensive.”
She admired the smooth white gold casing and artisanal filigree carvings. My last name was etched into the surface.
“This pen shop near school... It wasn’t expensive.”
“Really? Where’s the receipt?”
Fuck.
“…okay. It’s on a payment plan. I saved my mon--.”
“My money”, Sera corrected.
“Yes.”
“What kind of pen has a payment plan? I was going to give it back to you but because you lied… I think I’m going to keep it.”
“Sera —“
“That reminds me. I bought you something”, she cut me off and went over to the small coat closet by the door. She pulled out a medium sized dark green box. I recognized what is was seconds before she revealed the Rolex nestled inside.
I wrote the checks and paid bills through business account. I knew exactly how much was in there. But I didn’t have access to Sera’s personal account. She kept all her tips from escorting and every two weeks I automated our UBalance system to send her a tiny percentage of the profits (if we made a profit) to her private account.
It wasn’t my business what she spent it on but this was an 8,000 dollar watch. We’d been doing well but not that good.
“Sera…are you sure?”
She shrugged
“I was going to wait…but you really took my mind off Daniel last night. Plus all the lawyers I escort with have one.”
“They usually earn them”, I say more to myself.
“Trust me. You earned it.”
Sera’s gaze followed my hand which was involuntarily clutched around Hmjeu’s Timex on my wrist. It was two minutes behind but I never took it off. Sera closed the Rolex box.
“Why don’t you just keep this for special occasions.” she said putting it back into the matching green shopping bag.
“Thank you”
Sera sat down to eat her breakfast on fancy paper plates I found at a discount store. I tried to use minimal dishes since they’d just be in the sink when I came back on Wednesday. I hoisted my bag over my shoulder and took my time heading for the door.
As much as I wanted to leave and get a jump start on studying--I could hear Carrie’s voice in my head. .
“Umm...Seraphina…I was hoping you might…reconsider talking to Carrie.”
“What’s there to talk about?” She asked not looking up from her phone, “I don’t fuck with her relationship, why does she want to fuck with mine.”
“I just think she has a hard time understanding things…you...us.”
Sera set her phone down and stood up.
“It’s not me she doesn’t understand. It’s you.” She walked to the door and held it open.
“Sera—“‘
She took a step forward causing me to take one back until I was almost outside the door.
“Darling I—“, I started again
“See you on Wednesday, Paris”, she turned and shut the door.
-3-
Almost a year ago I had run into Carrie outside my studio apartment. The softly curled bright red hair should have caught my attention. Instead I’d just stared at this person on my doorstep, my brain slowly catching up to my eyes.
“Paris”, she’d said, “Wow. Hi”
We’d hugged awkwardly and I’d pulled back to take her in. It had been what? Five years. Her hair was longer with natural waves and her smile had seemed fuller. I was used to seeing her in chevron dresses and sorority t-shirts but she’d adopted a casual preppy style.
“Carrie”, I’d said, “What are you…it’s good to see you.” I’d fumbled for my keys and let her in the studio apartment. “Sorry for the mess.”
“No. Wow. I love this place”, she’d commented. Comments like that always set off my anxiety. The few times I’d brought classmates over I’d get endless (but polite) questions on how I could afford the apartment. I’d always just told people my wife worked in adult entertainment to keep it simple.
“How did you find me?” I’d asked moving Sera’s packed up beauty supplies off the couch.
“Alumni office”, she’d explained, “One of Zane’s dad’s friends said you were in New York doing investments or something and I was like …how can Paris be in New York and we haven’t connected ?”
“I’m working on my doctorate at Columbia.” The way Carrie had said it with a barley contained smile instantly told me she was proud of that fact.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I’d said to fast and let the curse slip, “I just finished up my MBA there. How have we not run into each other? What are you studying?”
“Comparative Literature”, she’d said which I hadn’t expected at all. It must have showed on my face because she explained, “Law school wasn’t for me. I was burned out by L2 and dropped out.”
“I’m sorry. I know how much you wanted it.”
“It worked out. I spent a few years doing development for InspireHer and built out our Midwest chapter. I did some traveling and took some time to figure out what I was passionate about. I always loved my English classes and working with professors. So here I am”
“That’s great”, I’d said settling on the couch. It had been so fucking easy. Talking to her. Why had I always been in my head about it in undergrad, “I’m starting law school in the fall?”
“Congratulation, Paris. You’ll be fine. You were always good under pressure”, she’d looked around the small studio apartment and took in all the packed containers, ““So, Are you moving?”
“No. That’s my …wife’s stuff”
“Yeah”, she’d said looking at the containers, “Kelsey is friends with you on Facebook… she said your status was …married?”
“Yeah. Seraphina. You remember...”
“Oh”, I could tell she hadn’t been sure how to take that, “I didn’t know you two were that close. . . I guess I thought she was …”
“She’s”, I’d struggled with what to say. Sera still goes out her way to never talk about gender, sexuality and orientation. Even with me, “Open”
“Oh. I see. I felt really weird when Kelsey said you married. I guess I didn’t realize how big of a crush I had on you until you left.”
“It couldn’t have been as of a crush as I had on you.” I’d admitted.
“Come on, Paris. I mean you were just so smart and knew exactly what you wanted. You were so independent and …I don’t know… witty? With kind of a dark sense of humor--”
“Pretty sure, I was just a loner sarcastic asshole.” I’d said because now I was flirting with her, “We should get coffee.”
“Okay…should we let your wife know?”
I’d thought on that. In the five years I’d been married I’d only outwardly explained my open marriage a few times. Men usually got offended and women took it the wrong way.
“We’re actually living separate for now”, I’d settled with that basic truth, “She has a place in SoHo.”
“Paris, I’m sorry. That sucks.”
“It’s not like that…”
“We should hang out …like old times.”
I knew I could use a friend like her, but this wasn’t going to be like old times.
“I’d love that Carrie but I’m not as together as I look. To be honest Harvard was really hard for me because I was trying to be what I thought people wanted me to be. I can’t do that now.
She’d shifted her weight.
“It was hard for you? I mean you never joined our late-night vodka drinking commiseration sessions in Zane’s suite.”
“…probably because I was never invited and also being around Travis Wentworth was hard for me. He was harassing me all the time. I didn’t want to see it for what it was.”
“He always did take things to far but Wentworth was harmless “
“No he wasn’t. Carrie, Some of his pranks…made me…I was suicidal most of sophomore year.”
I’d official brought the mood down. Then Carrie had surprised me with what she said next.
“Weren’t we all?” She’d said.
“What?”
She’d moved closer to me on the couch.
“We all had our shit. I missed my family and transferred from Notre Dame because some idiot e-mailed private pictures I sent him. Travis’ dad was the biggest jerk and Zane knew he was only still in school because his parents paid to keep him from flunking. You should have opened up to us. We were all messed up.”
I’d felt like a pair of blinders had been lifted off of me. Why had I thought I needed to be perfect?
“I really fucked that up.”
“I heard that is what your early twenties are for”, she’d said getting up to look at the degrees above my desk. They were one of a few things Seraphina was letting me keep the apartment. Fuck. Sera.
“Fuck. I have a cab waiting outside.” I’d said
“Oh, I’ll see you around—“
“No. I’ll pay him. I want to catch up.”
“I saw a café down the street is it any good?
“I don’t know. Let’s find out.”
---
I’d of course told Sera about Carrie.
Sera had teased me a little about it but didn’t think much of it. Sera hadn’t predicted that my rekindled friendship with Carrie would turn into the lifeline I needed when I started law school.
Any law school is intense but an Ivy League is at another level. The classes were competitive and all-consuming from day one. It was terrifying watching really smart people drop out week after week. When I wasn’t in class I was at home studying or having anxiety attacks on the bathroom floor.
In the middle of my first semester I hadn’t been able to sleep. I’d rolled out of bed at 4am and walked to campus so I could study with the sunrise. It must have been fate that pulled me to campus that day because just as the sun came up I saw Carrie walking toward me across the quad.
“You’re doing it again”, she’d said easily.
“Hey”, I’d said trying to sound all casual, “Doing what?”
“Keeping strange hours”, she’d said, “Like back in school we’d be coming back from off-campus parties and you’d be in the commons at like 3am studying.”
I closed the law book I’d been trying to memorize.
“My anxiety keeps me up. Why are you up so early?”
“I’m an instructor for English 102. It’s English for non-majors. You should come sit in.”
“Uh, I don’t know.”
“Paris. You need a break. Trust me.”
I’d actually had a good time. The arts had never really appealed to me but I’d loved Carrie’s passion for the material. She had been really good a facilitating conversation the class and making sure everyone was heard. I’d liked it so much I decided to audit the class even though it would fuck with my schedule.
We would meet at the same spot for breakfast every day before class. Her post-doc work was on legal representation in post-modern American Literature so our areas of study intersected.
Carrie was a social butterfly, being with her meant having to meet all the people in her orbit. When I’d met her roommates I didn’t think twice about showing up to the cozy three bedroom walk-up wearing a button-down, while everyone else was dressed casually.
Carrie loved getting people together and she had even organized at-home trivia nights between law students and doctoral candidates. I’d hosted an event at my small apartment and it had gone surprisingly well.
“You had fun tonight.” Carried had said while helping me clean up afterward
“Yeah. I did”, I’d been helping helped her pack up the catering she’d ordered. Instead of taking the leftovers with her she just put the containers in my empty fridge.
“No. I’m telling you. You had fun, Paris Prince. I mean you actually laughed, Paris.”
“I…laugh.” I’d said really thinking about it.
“…manic stressed out laughter does not count.”
“Well, I laugh now”, I had pretended to focus on cleaning, “You make me laugh and that scares me.”
“Why?
“Because.”
“Because?” she’d teased
I don’t know which one of leaned over the table first but we kissed. It had been slow and explorative. I’d pulled away first.
“I shouldn’t have. I mean I can’t…” I’d said first.
“What is it?”
“I have a lot going on. I have law school plus I’m working on certification for my CPA. I just need a friend right now.”
“Yeah”, she said clearly crestfallen. It had been odd to think anyone had been crestfallen over me, “I get it.”
I’d wanted to explain what I was feeling to Carrie, but I’d noticed my phone was flashing in the corner I’d left it in all night. I’d opened it and saw I had 30 missed calls and messages. I’d apologized to Carrie and read through the messages. All had been from Sera.
I can’t get cash out the ATM
This thing won’t give me my card back
Pick up your fucking phone. I don’t understand what the bank is telling me. They are closing soon.
Paris, I need a car to get to the event tonight. Call me. I’m going to be late to TDC.
Paris, what the fuck? If I’m late they won’t pay me.
PARIS, PICK UP YOUR FUCKING PHONE. I’M GOING TO BE LATE.
If I have to walk you are going to be so fucking sorry.
I’d racked my brain trying to figure out what the fuck could be happening. Carrie had watched me while I circled the small studio. Then I saw my messenger bag and the stack of envelopes stacked inside.
Fuck. I’d forgotten to do the bank deposits. New Aeterna’s bills were set on an auto-pay schedule and they had gone through and over drafted the main account. The bank must have frozen all the accounts.
I could fix this by moving liquid funds from a small investment account I’d set up. I could wire the money… I’d just needed to get Sera’s signature.
“Shit”
“What?” Carrie had asked, “What’s going on?”
“Sorry. I have to go. I have to get some stuff down to Sera. I had fun Carrie. I just—sorry.”
I’d grabbed my messenger bag and walked Carrie out of my apartment. I found a 24 hour place to initiate the wire then ran to catch the last express train downtown. I made it to 48X48 just after midnight.
-4-
Sera had been sitting in the lobby and she’d looked expensive as fuck in a form fitting off-the-shoulder black jumpsuit and fake pearls. She also looked like she could kill me.
“I’m so sorry Sera”, I’d said.
“I couldn’t get money to buy dinner. I had to walk 42 blocks to my booking at The Domme Club. A wheel fell off my case so I had to carry a case full of chains and whips for the last ten blocks. I couldn’t get it together all night. I barely got any tips.”
“Did you hurt someone?” I’d asked concerned our pitiful insurance plan wouldn’t cover it. Sera had booked a job working the demonstration floor at The Domme Club. A feminist sex club and dungeon that threw the second-largest BDSM parties in the city.
“No.”
I scrolled through the calendar on my phone. I had a two hour block free tomorrow and could probably drop by and fix the wheel on her travel case. I’d bought it for her in D.C and it had sentimental value to me.
“Here I have $22. It’s yours. If you sign this wire I’ll get things sorted out with the bank on Monday.”
“Where were you tonight”, she’d asked not reaching for the crumbled bills.
“I had some new friends over. It’s amazing the different kinds of people who find their way to Columbia. Carrie organized it and …we kissed…”
“You don’t need my permission to have a girlfriend.”
“I know. I guess when good things happen to me you’re the person I’m used to telling.”
Sera had laughed. It was short and slightly taunting --enough to get the front desk concierges’ attention.
“That’s so pathetic, Paris. You’re so funny.” She’d kicked off her slip-on sneakers and put her stilettos back on.
“Am I that person to you?”
She’d shrugged, “Actually that was Leon. We’ve been…talking more.”
I had been shocked. Sera and Leon only spoke maybe once or twice a year. They’d had a falling out. He was still mad at her for getting kicked out the military and getting married without telling him. I’d sort of pieced together that he’d run off with one of her sisters which pissed her off.
Sera had waived at someone behind me and I’d spotted two older women in black dresses wearing matching diamond necklaces. Walking a few steps behind the woman was a man carrying an oversized gym bag that was clearly filled with heavy BDSM gear. Sera and the women complimented each other and made small talk for a few more minutes.
“Paris”, Sera had finally said, ”This is …Mistress Diamond and Lady Lavender from The Domme Club. They are members”
“Good evening”, I’d said. If these Dommes were members of TDC that meant they were well known and respected in the community. Impressing them meant more legitimacy and more clients. More money.
I gave the man with them, who must be their submissive, a cordial acknowledgement.
“Sera, he’s adorable”, Mistress Diamond said trying not to stare at my scar, “Not at all what I thought your type would be.”
I made sure to look at her when she spoke to make her look good in front of the other Dommes.
“We should have an oral contest to see which one of them can make us come first.” Lady Lavender had suggested
Sera had shaken her head at that, “Paris can barely pleasure himself let alone anyone else. I only fuck him if I’m desperate. Isn’t that right.”
“Yes, Darling”, I’d said. Even though we were both so busy we never had time to talk let alone have sex with anyone.
“I bet I could train him to make you come five times a day”, Mistress Diamond had said, “It’s daily requirement for Remy. Even on weekdays when the kids have events and games.”
“I make do”, Sera had said and I could tell she was over small talk, she clearly just wanted to scene and fuck, “Anyway, Paris has to head home to his vanilla girlfriend. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, Darling”, I’d said and even though Sera was being facetious calling Carrie my girlfriend it had struck a chord with me. I suddenly felt protective of her.
---
“What’s this, Paris”, Carrie had asked me later that month. We’d been at my apartment working on our respective papers. We’d done a good job of avoiding the kiss, not ready to ruin our new friendship.
Carrie was going through my fridge which I’d kept spotless except for purified water, my meal prep and two bottles of Sera’s favorite white wine. The wine was low alcohol and she could drink a glass without it impairing her. I also suspected she liked it because it was hard to find and tracking down a bottle was usually a tasks she gave me when she wanted to punish me.
“Uh…my food for the week. It’s this thing called meal prep.”
Carrie brought the container over and even I had to admit the wilted molded contents were unrecognizable.
“Paris this is from last week. We have to try teaching you to cook cooking again.”
“No way”, I said. Even thought it would be nice to be able to cook a nice dinner for Sera whenever she wanted
“You have no food in here. You can’t just drink wine.”
“That’s not even mine its Sera’s.”
“…Does she still come by?”
The simple answer was no. Sera hadn’t had time to come back to the apartment since moving out. This felt like an opening.
“No. She’s pretty busy but I like to keep things a certain way if she does.”
“Paris. It’s your apartment”
“It’s actually hers. She pays the rent.”
“So…you still see her?”
“I do . . . We’re still married and I do work at her condo Wednesday, Friday and Sundays.”
I wasn’t sure how I’d fair when Sera moved out of the studio apartment and into her downtown condo. I was afraid once I was living alone and going to school full-time I’d crumble back into the pathetic 20 year-old I used to be.
I think apart of Sera sensed this as well, so she made a schedule for me. I made the hour long trip downtown to SoHo to see her on Sundays, Wednesdays and Fridays. When I was with her I was hers. I was in a submissive mindset and usually dutifully doing work for the business and completing the chores, housework and whatever else she needed.
“What kind of work?”
“Financial stuff and housework.”
“Paris, we’re both smart people. We have fun together, we push each other academically. I know we haven’t defined what this is between us but…I don’t want to be a homewrecker.”
“Sera and I are legally married but we’re not…traditional”, I’d tried to explain.
“Is this like a VISA thing—“
“What? No. We’re not monogamous. You know how you are always joking that I don’t have hobbies?”
“Cleaning is not a hobby”, she’d said bringing a stack of takeout menus for us to go through but I set them aside
“Well. After I left Harvard I kind of got into BDSM.”
“Like…….the fifty shades thing?” she asked.
“Sort of…” I said, “I mean the series was an oversimplification and no one would pull any of the shit he does. I mean by the time you reach the third book--”
“I can always help you find … new hobbies”, she said, “Didn’t you say you were into chess?”
I sat back awkwardly on the couch, now glad I’d purchased a second-hand TV to fill the silence.
“Let’s talk”, I’d suggested leading Carrie over to the table, “Hobby wasn’t the right word. I told you Sera was in adult entertainment. To be more specific she’s a Domme. It started as something just between us. A relationship dynamic. It’s all about trust and consent and those things are important to me.”
“It’s like a sex thing.”
“Not really. I mean I’ve gotten more into bondage and masochism but it’s the D/s aspect that appeals to me the most. It’s hard to explain. Relationships are hard and I like having one where I know my place and expectations.”
Carrie leafed through a Thai menu.
“We’re …friends, right?”
“Right now, you’re one of my only friends.”
I’d made a plenty friends at school seeing as I could never shut up, but they’d turn on me in an instant if it meant climbing the class ranks.
“Then I’m going to be honest.” I’d braced myself as Carrie continued, “I don’t understand all of this-but you can’t do everything for her, focus on law school and take care of yourself. I had to learn that when I was balancing InspireHer and law school.”
“You had a trust and your parents were also paying your rent and expenses. That makes it a lot easier to balance”, I’d said then regretted it a minute later, “Fuck. Sorry, Carrie.”
“Says the guy with an uptown apartment to himself.” She’d volleyed back.
We’d sat in an awkward silence. Carrie had ordered dinner and I’d pretended there was something interesting on my phone.
“It shouldn’t be like that”, Carrie had said setting the paper plates on the table.
“Hmm?”
“When I was in Boston. I had a boyfriend, you remember Eric from Tri Nu? We were together for three years. I wouldn’t have made it through my discovery years without him. We grew apart but I just think a loving supporting relationship helped me. She was always so mean to you in college.”
“You only met her once.”
“Paris, you never wanted to go back to your apartment, you said she drank too much and how many times were you in the library because you guys were fighting?”
“Carrie, the point is I’m open to starting a relationship with you. I like the things you bring into my life. I think we’d be good for each other and I think you could use a little corruption.”
She’d smiled at me.
“Paris, you’re married.”
“We’re no monogamous. I just need to keep up my obligations to her. Sera had a girlfriend when we lived in D.C. I can give you a list of her other exes for reference if you like.”
“My mother would kill me.”, she’d said taking my hand. I pulled her a little closer. Somehow I felt twenty years old again on the steps of the Harvard library.
“Can I kiss you?” I’d asked.
She ran the tips of her fingers along my scar
“Yes.”
---
That first year of law school I’d learned to build my own life within the larger one I’d shared with Sera. A life that suddenly included Carrie.
We had both been extroverted and talkers but Carrie was at another level. Every time we’d go out we usually ended up making new friends. Whenever it got too quiet at my apartment she’d send out text until there was a good group pf people to get drunk and have a good time with. I’d met and impressed a 3L student so much that she invited me to contribute to the prestigious Colombia Law Review.
To them I was Carrie’s non-descript slightly eccentric boyfriend. They didn’t know about the other side of my life. That three days a week I spent hours in a downtown Condo with a Domme who gave me the pleasure, pain and humiliation I couldn’t stop craving. When I left Sera’s home I left my kinks there.
I’d told Sera opening New Aeterna was her coming into who she truly was and it was my turn. Law school should have triggered my anxiety and panic attacks but I was centered. I was passionate about the direction my academic career was going in. I had a quiet organized home filled with good memories where I could decompress. I had a girlfriend I seriously starting to fall for.
“You should stay with me for the summer”, Sera had suggested a few weeks ago when I was at her condo. I’d been working quietly on New Aeterna’s accounting while trying to avoid my least favorite task-- cleaning her gun collection.
Sera had gone to a self-defense class after a client attacked and chocked her because he wanted to pleasure her. Later he and his rich lawyer showed up with an NDA, a monetary apology, and some excuse that his cold medicine caused him to act up. Sera agreed to take the money because it covered my tuition for that semester.
Sera was tough and she could definitely brawl if she needed too, but self-defense was more strategic. She signed up for a class and became obsessed with her ex-marine female instructor and picked up an interest in guns from her. I was actually proud that Sera studied for and figured out how to get her conceal carry license on her own. Though as a pacifist I didn’t like her having guns.
“They are for protection”, Sera had explained after showing me how to clean the two personalized semi-automatics (one pink, one red) she’d spent a shit ton of money on.
“Manhattan gun laws are tricky”, I’d told her, and “There aren’t even ranges in the city.”
“I know. The good ones are in New Jersey so I need a car. One of my neighbors is selling one that plugs in. I told him you’d take care of it.”
I added it to my to-do list.
“Sera, you don’t need a gun in the dungeon. If you can’t reach the silent alarm how are you going to reach a gun? Also, you can bench press like 170 pounds. ”
“Maybe I just like them”, she’d said, “The blowback feels really good. It’s like that moment between one orgasm and the next. Not that you would know anything about multiple orgasms. Besides I like going to the shooting range. If I get enough hours at the range I can get an instructor certification. That’s a way to bring more money on the side…”
“I guess, but I just don’t like—“
“I know Paris.” She’d said jerking my chair around to face her, “How about I let some of my clients choke and rip your clothes then you can decide what my best practice should be.”
From then on I’d continued cleaning the guns without complaining.
“Anyway, I said you should spend the summer with me”. Sera had repeated her question from earlier.
She ran her hands through my hair. I hated how much I loved her attention. Sera was usually on her way out the door to escort, meet a client or work some event when I came over. I would have loved spending the entire summer trapped in her condo and being under her control for 24 hours a day. But I had a life outside of her now.
“I’m actually taking summer courses online and I’ve been offered an internship
in D.C this summer. I was going to sublet my place.”
She leaned against the counter and folded her arms.
“What about everything else, Paris?”
“What else?”
“Like being my sex slave.”
“I’m hardly that. I’m too independent minded to be in a maddening lust haze and zealously craving your pleasure.” I’d said as a joke.
Seraphina had squinted, “That’s a descriptive way to put.”
“I’ve been reading a lot of literary fiction with Carrie. Sometimes I want to understand what she and her colleagues are talking about. I never really got into the humanities before. It’s interesting.”
“Very”, she’d said and I knew she wasn’t talking about books.
“You know, I wish you’d come and hang out with us sometimes. It’d be like that time at the Hookah bar”
“I get people change but she dated that asshole roommate. Like hell she didn’t notice how he treated you. I —“
“Sera what if someone judged you for your ex-boyfriend? Carrie is my girlfriend now and external relationships are a hard limit. I don’t like you being disrespectful to her.”
She’d moved to sit in my lap. Her skin tight red dress had rode all the way up her thighs. She was wearing sheer tights with a little bit of shimmer. She must have had a date tonight. A high-paying one. A year ago I would have wanted to be that guy. I would have wanted to be successful and wealthy enough to keep Sera as mine for one night. My wife. My Mistress. My Domme and no one else’s.
Now I wasn’t so sure I wanted that anymore.
“Paris”, Sera snapped her fingers in front my face
“Yes, Darling."
“Don’t ever cut me off when I’m talking to you.”
“Yes. Sorry.”
Sera had gotten very particular and demanding about what she wanted lately. She lived in a dominant mindset. She wanted to be respected and obeyed. Domination was her job, it was what she did for fun, and it was how she got off. Her new hobby was dominating couples she met at queer swingers bar. She liked stepping in between then and turning one partner into hers for the night and torturing the other.
She wanted her home to look a certain way, she wanted her schedule followed, she wanted to make the rules and she wanted to be in charge. I actually loved it but the point was….
She was happy.
We were thriving living apart. Both of us getting what we needed from one another in those few hours a week.
---
Seven months in to our relationship Carrie had started spending nights at my apartment. We weren’t sleeping together yet. We just had long thoughtful conversations about my future public career and my involvement with kink. We’d talk about things we wanted in the future and it was scary how aligned we were. She’d wanted to teach college in a small town and she was flexible about having kids. I’d wanted to start my political career in a small town further north.
“You should leave her”, Carrie had said half asleep on my shoulder.
“What?” I said turning down the TV.
“Paris when you close your eyes and you imagine the future you want. Do you really see someone as alternative as Sera wanting to be a part of that? She’s has everything going for her here in the city. This is just temporary for you. I just think you deserve a life without her controlling everything.”
“I can’t…divorce her. There is this contract. It’s attached to a post-nup. If I divorce or legally separate from Sera I have to pay her back for all the credit card debit and tuition she’s paid for. She also gets 75% of any of my future income and 80% of any property and investments I own.”
“You’re on your way to being an amazing lawyer. You’ll figure a way out. Isn’t contract law your thing?”
I’d turned to face her.
“Yeah. That’s also why ours is so ironclad.”
“….There has to be a way out of this for you.”
“Carrie…this isn’t how this works. Sera always made this whole polyamorous thing look easy but—“
“It’s just…she’s crazy and I’m worried about you. I know you like some of the stuff she makes you do but I just think you need a break. You’ve taken care of people since you were a kid. Someone needs to take care of you. I want to take care of you.”
“I’d like that”, I said honestly.
“Maybe things would be less intense with Sera if you weren’t married. Doesn’t it seem like you’re more her employee than husband? Paris I know you’ve had it rough and no one ever tells you this…but you deserve better. I’m not saying that because I’m jealous. I’ll tell her that to her face. She needs to let you out of that contract”
“Sera is never going to do that. She is very used to getting her way”
“Wanna bet?”
I was falling in love with Carrie’s charm and wit… but what I admired her most was that she wasn’t afraid of Seraphina.
Without telling me Carrie had left messages and texted Sera to get her to reconsider our contract and marriage. All of which Sera had ignored. Carrie and one of her friends had gone down to New Aeterna to confront her face-to-face but Sera had just never answered the front door.
When I had stopped by Sera’s apartment last week Sera threw her cell phone at me. A voicemail was playing from Carrie. Carrie was warning Sera not leave marks on me after our sessions or she’d call police.
“Why the hell did you give your girlfriend her my cell number?” Sera had asked me, “Why does she think she can tell me what to do? That’s not how this works. ”
I realized Carrie must have taken her number from my phone.
“She just worried about me. I wish you’d talk to her.”
“No. That’s your job. Are you too afraid to tell her impact play is supposed to leave welts and that I’d never bruise anyone without making sure they are cared for? Give her the safe, sane, consensual mantra. Tell her what a fucking little masochistic pain slut you are and that if she bothers me about this shit again it’ll be me she’s worried about.”
“Sera-“
“If you were a client and she was your wife—I’d drop you. You would tell me to drop you. Talk to her.”
I couldn’t. Carrie was always defensive when it came to kink. Every time I tried to explain it to her she made Sera look like a villain.
At the time Carrie’s relationship was priority to me. She was the person I saw every day and who I lived my life around. It sort of terrified me that I could be so in love with someone else.
±±±
Sera gave me a lot of space. She started distancing herself. On days I went to her condo she was never there. If we talked--it was about the business or how she wanted the housework taken care of. I’d totally forgotten the absolute power she had over me.
Until tonight.
When I saw Seraphina in the Marabella’s dining room. I hadn’t been able to resist her. Saturday was supposed to mine to do what I wanted, but I’d given it up to be with her. Now after being drugged, tortured, fucked and humiliated here she was pushing me out of her condo because I’d said Carrie’s name.
Fuck that.
I put my foot in the door before the door could fully close.
“Sera. I just think it’s kind of crazy what we did. It’s crazy how quickly we got married. We never got to be together without all the stressful obligations of marriage.”
“And?”
“Well…we’re kind of doing that now, right? I kind of feel like one of your partners. We occasionally see each other. We only talk about the lifestyle, work or money. This isn’t a marriage”
She laughed. It was genuine and bold. Also completely out of nowhere.
“I get it, pet. You think we should switch places.” Sera said more amused than angry, “Think I’d make a better lover that spouse? It’s probably true… but you belong to me, Paris. You signed a contract and Carrie is going to have to get used to coming in second. Which I guess in this case is actually…last.”
“Sera. I’m going to graduate in 18 months. You don’t want what comes next. Do you really think you want to be a politician’s wife? Mrs. Prince?”
She sighed
“I married you because you promised you would take care of me and you’ve done a decent job with what I’ve let you do. I’ll be a perfectly happy housewife…as long as you and I are clear on who is actually in charge. Being called Mrs. Prince doesn’t bother me. Your name is just one more thing that was yours and is now mine. I’ll see you on Wednesday, Paris.”
She moved my foot out the way and slammed the door in my face.
When I got home it was 8 a.m. and I was ready to turn in. I’d been up for nearly two days.
Carrie was of course sitting on the front step with two iced herbal teas. I’d totally forgot she was coming by to help me find a place to stay for my D.C summer internship. I’d given her a key but she still liked to wait for me.
“You look beautiful this morning”, I said because she did. She always took pride in how she looked. All of her outfits were intricately prepared in advance, “Paris are you okay?” she said her voice tinged with worry.
“Yeah, long night.”
“Were you at the library all-night?” she asked, “Ryan didn’t say he saw you there.”
I went through my mental rolodex of Carrie’s friends trying to remember who Ryan was.
“I was with my advisor—“
“Did he forget you had an appointment with him again?”
“Yes. Then I found myself in SoHo.”
That was all I had to say.
Carrie waited patiently while I started the coffee machine. I wanted to take a nap but it wasn’t fair for me to sleep when she was here.
“Paris…What happened to your face?”
Carrie ran her finger over where Sera’s the crop had nicked my lip. “It was an accident. It’s sealed. It’s okay.”
”Paris. This is not okay. I’m calling--”
“She blocked your number. It was an accident.” I said trying to sound lighthearted.
“I just think…it’s getting abusive.”
“Carrie--“
“I just mean… your regular relationship with her. It doesn’t take long for someone to emotional drain you. Forget all the stuff you are into. You are stretching yourself to thin because you’re afraid to say no to her. I know you thought she was all you had, but that was never the case.”
I tried to imagine a world where Wentworth, Zane and Kelsey would have been there for me.
“I’m too tired to think about this right now”, I said honestly. I was also proving Carrie’s point. Maybe a slightly more attentive Dominant wouldn’t have sent me home on zero sleep.
Carrie sat down on the couch next to me. She touched the cut on my lip and I pulled back a little.
“This isn’t what you need right now. You need support and to relax.”
“Sounds like you think I need a vacation.”
“You do. And you need a salary for all the work you do for her. Not bribes”, she looked at the Rolex bag, “You should sell this and do something for yourself.”
“I should but I really like this watch.”
I was tired, but not too tired to take off Hmjeu’s Timex and put the Rolex on. It was the perfect size—much like the custom sized set of cuffs and restraints Sera had bought for me a few months ago.
Carrie shut off the coffee pot and helped me fold out the bed. I dropped down on the bed fully dressed. I jumped when I felt Carrie’s hand in my hair. She was doing the thing I usually needed after a session. Sera was always careful to use salves and creams to make sure my body would heal after an intense session but she didn’t always remember that having her arms round me would helped with the transition. I hadn’t told Carrie about this. She just knew.
“Paris talk to me?” she said, “are you okay?”
“It doesn’t matter how I feel”, I admit to myself, “Lifestyle aside, she’s paying for everything. I can’t finish law school on the fast-track if I have to work. “
“Whatever you need, Paris. I’m there.”
±±±
A/N
The first part of this chapter was one of the first parts I wrote. I was trying to get a feel for Paris/Sera’s dynamic. Originally I wasn’t planning on telling all of Sera and Paris’ backstory, I figured I could save it for a novella, but that went out the window and we have basically mainlined their entire backstory. It sort of serves a purpose...
In the first section, Paris is drinking the wine that Sara Grace drink in Vice. I couldn't find the name in Vice. HELP SHV.