It wasn’t until this morning that I’d finally given in to his request for dinner. Not because I was interested. I knew from the beginning that Matt wasn’t my type. Too plain. Too … nice, I guess was the right way to put it. And while I didn’t want to lead him on in any way, I knew that continuing to thwart his efforts would only have him working harder to get my attention because he seemed extremely determined. So, I’d relented when he’d made the suggestion a third time, fully intending to let him know that, while I enjoyed his company, I wasn’t looking for a relationship.
Yep, it was true, we were doomed before the night started. It was me, not him. Blah. Blah. Blah.
I wasn’t in the market for a man, and it had nothing to do with the situation with my family. I had stopped looking over my shoulder a long time ago, succumbing to the theory that what was meant to happen would. Didn’t mean I was oblivious to those around me or that I didn’t have the urge to scan dark corners. I did, sure. I simply tried really hard not to.
My reasons for forgoing intimacy had more to do with my personal hang-ups.
“So, when can we do this again?” Matt asked when the server took his credit card so he could close out the bill.
I set my wineglass down, took a deep breath as I met his stare and held it. “I’ll admit, I had a really great time, Matt.”
It was only a small lie.
His eyes cooled, his shoulders tensing. “But?”
“It’s not you,” I said quickly. “It’s just … well, it’s just that I’m coming off a recent breakup.”
And by recent, I meant thirteen months ago.
Matt obviously didn’t need to know that.
His shoulders unknotted, his face relaxing. “I’m sorry to hear that. I had no idea.”
“How could you?” I smiled easily. “It’s been … difficult.” That was a lie, as well. The breakup hadn’t been difficult, it had been necessary.
I’d spent the better part of a year with Jake, and since him, thanks to a few unimpressive attempts on my part, I had yet to find the desire to date again. I’d had my fair share of the back-and-forth exchange of pleasantries in an effort to get to know someone before Jake had come into my life and swept me off my submissive feet. I’d fallen for a man who had called himself a Dominant. It hadn’t been one of those hard and fast falls, but I’d convinced myself it was a BDSM fairy tale, one I’d spent years anticipating. And though we’d both worked hard to be what each other needed, we eventually agreed that wasn’t going to happen.
Sometimes it took a failed attempt to open someone’s eyes. And mine had certainly been opened during my time with Jake.
So, along with letting go of that relationship, I’d also discarded the illusion that I was a submissive, opting to put it behind me. I figured when you couldn’t find what you were seeking, it was possible it didn’t exist. That or my expectations were simply too high. And truth was, it had grown tedious. Rather than continue to be disappointed, I’d opted to make the jump back to the vanilla world, accepting fate had other things in store for me.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Matt said kindly, but I could see his disappointment.
Giving him a sad smile, I let my eyes shift to the table. “Yeah, well … it takes time for the heart to heal.”
I hated lying because I sensed Matt was one of the nice guys. If I gave the signal, I had no doubt he would take me back to my place, make sweet love to me all night. Probably send me flowers tomorrow, take me on another date next weekend. It was what the nice guys did. And it wasn’t that I didn’t want a nice guy. I most certainly did.
I merely wanted my nice guy to have a sexual, domineering edge.
Somewhere deep down, I think I still held out hope that my Dominant would one day come to my rescue, save me from this mundane existence, and offer me a life right out of my submissive fantasies.
A girl could dream, right?
*
RANSOM BISHOP
“What a douche,” I muttered, watching my sister and her date as they appeared to be finishing up their meal while I tried to stay warm in my car, wishing I was anywhere but here.
Exhaling heavily, I exchanged my cell phone for my lukewarm coffee, dumping the former in the center console, picking up the latter. I’d already gleaned everything I could about this Matthew Sandusky. Although he wasn’t what I would call squeaky, he did appear clean despite his relationship with the crooked senator he called a boss. From the deep dive I’d done on him, the only thing my sister had to worry about was that she made more money than he did.
“She’s too good for you, man,” I said although no one was listening to me.
This certainly wasn’t my ideal way of spending this chilly December evening. Or any evening, for that matter. However, these days, it was my only option. Specifically, on nights my sister opted to go out. Granted, she generally made a trip to the yoga studio or the bookstore rather than some swanky restaurant on a date, but I figured it was inevitable. She couldn’t hide herself away forever, although it certainly would be easier on me if she did.
And yes, that was me being selfish. My sister deserved to have a life, and it was my job to watch her back, so here I was and here I would remain for as long as she was out and about.
If I were a tyrant, I would’ve simply locked Braelyn in a dungeon somewhere no one could find her, but I’d already disrupted her life enough. After all, I was the one responsible for putting us both in this predicament, for stirring up the past and all but painting targets on our backs again. For the past year and a half, I’d spent every single minute waiting for the anvil to drop. And when I wasn’t doing that, I was ensuring it didn’t fall on my sister, too. The least she deserved was to enjoy her freedom.
Even if it meant I had to forego a night dominating a willing submissive or two in lieu of lurking in the shadows to ensure Braelyn was safe. Yes, I had skipped another night at Dichotomy so I could give my sister somewhat of a life. It was the least I could do. Of course, I wasn’t feeling the club much these days. I couldn’t quite pinpoint what my issue was, but I was growing tired of the drama, the tediousness associated with developing a scene, following through. Had been for quite some time now. Even the sex had become uninspired. The high I used to get from it all had faded.
So maybe it wasn’t such a hardship to be keeping an eye on my sister. At the very least, it gave me the excuse I needed to avoid engaging with others.
I could tell the date wasn’t going well based on Braelyn’s body language. I’d seen her do this before. Braelyn called it enduring. I preferred to say she was wasting her precious time. The good news was, it appeared the date was coming to an end, which meant I’d be able to retire for the evening soon enough.
I watched as Braelyn pulled her cell phone from her purse, typed something.
A second later, my phone screen lit up with a text from her. I’ll be going home soon. Hope you’re having fun at the club.
I downed what was left of my coffee, smiled, grateful my sister was abiding by my request to keep me informed of her whereabouts. I knew it was beginning to irritate her, and I couldn’t very well blame her. She was a grown woman, could do what she wanted, when she wanted, yet I insisted she report in so I knew she was safe. My sister assured me she understood my reason for hovering.