His words ring in my head as I quickly shift through the clothing rack, the next afternoon, and none of the outfits are right.
Linda: So nervous. Haven't you had, like a million dinners with Damian before?
Family dinners. My parents never turned Damian down.
I pause my shuffling, feeling a pang of grief. After they died, he came over even more.
Linda: No shit. Damian has a soft side?
In his own way. His parents weren't around much, so he looked up to mine. I think he felt stepping in when they died was a way of thanking them.
Linda: You mean he wanted to be there for you.
For my brother and me.
Linda: But your brother won't be there tonight...
Linda's eyes drop to my cleavage.
Linda: And there's no way Damian still thinks of you as his best friend's sister after seeing you bound and flogged.
You are not helping my nerves, Linda...
Linda: I'm just saying. I've been with this club since it first opened, and I've never seen him even look at a girl the way he looks at you.
Then, why hasn't he made me his sub? I would have.
Linda: Damian and I are different; my personal life and being a dome are separate. For him, BDSM is... all-consuming.
As if on cue, my phone vibrates.
Damian: Tick-tock, if you are late, you will be punished.
Punctuality is my specialty.
Damian: Good, not every punishment is fun; you wouldn't want to test your luck.
My stomach swoops at the thought. Another text comes through, and Linda reads it over my shoulder.
Damian: wear red.
Linda: Red, huh?
I sift through the clothing rack and pull out a tight red corset and skirt.
Linda: Let's knock his leather off.
I arrive at Damian's exactly at 8 p.m. He swings open the door before I even knock.
You are on time.
His gaze drops to my outfit, his eyes following the length of my bare legs.
And you wore red.
Not for you, I was planning to wear this top already.
Right of course.
He steps aside to let me in. I catch his familiar leather and spice scent as I pass.
Juliet: Can I help with dinner?
It's already done, but you can set the table.
Juliet: Aren't you, like, super particular about how the table is set?
If you remember that, you should know how I like it.
He hands me a stack of plates, his fingers brushing mine.
Go on.
I set a dinner and salad plate down at the head of the table.
Damian: Is that for me?
Yes, sir.
Good girl.
He picks up a stack of silverware and sets it beside the plates, his chest brushing my shoulder.
Damian: I never asked you why you wanted to get into the BDSM club.
Honestly? I've always been curious. I figured joining a club was the best way to test the waters.
Damian: You were right about that.
Juliet: Why did you join the BDSM?
Because I'm an egomaniac.
The wicked look in his eye causes my hair to stand on end. He places a serving tray on the table.
Damian: I hope you still like pasta.
Aren't you kidding? It's my favorite.
I reach for the serving spoon, but he grabs my wrist.
I'II do it.
But you are a dom, shouldn't I serve you?
BDSM is a spectrum- what works for one dom doesn't always work for another.
He piles my plate with pasta and licks the sauce from his thumbs. A small flare goes off in my gut.
Damian: Some doms only play in the bedroom, others want total power over their sub's life.
That sounds like slavery.
He pauses so subtly I almost don't notice.
Master/slave relationships aren't for everyone. That's why it's important to find what suits you and your partner.
What kind of dom are you?
He sits beside me, his knee bumping mine under the table.
If I had a submissive, I'd want to take care of her.
How?
Feeding her is one way.
He picks up my fork and twirls it in my pasta. Then, he hovers the fork in front of my lips.
Open your mouth, Trixie.
Thanks, but no thanks. I like to feed myself.
A flicker of disappointment crosses his face.
Suit yourself.
He picks up his own fork and slides it into his mouth.
At the sight, the heady feeling of his lips brushing mine comes back.
Juliet: Why did you kiss me, Damian?
I didn't kiss you.
You almost did. That counts for something.
He tenses, his eyes locked on his plate.
Sometimes, even domes lose control, especially with an unruly sub.
Juliet: A kiss is a reward, not a punishment.
Are you asking to be punished, Juliet?
No.
Too bad. I've already got one picked out for you. Come with me.
He leads me into the hallway, and I catch sight of a bedroom through an open door. All these years, and I've never seen your bedroom before.
You won't today either.
He reaches across me and pulls the door closed. When he turns his head, my lips are close enough to touch.
I don't let women into my bedroom, not unless she's my...
Your what?
So curious about what I like, Trixie. Why don't you see for yourself?
I follow him into a playroom. My breath catches as I take in each toy Damian picked specifically.
Seeing what Damian likes feels so personal.
Why are you showing me this?
You want to be treated like a sub. Consider this your punishment for challenging me the other night.
He hands me cleaning supplies and a mop.
Clean my playroom, Juliet.
You can't be serious.
I am. A aub does anything her dom requests of her, but if you aren't cut out for that...
I'II do it.
I wipe down the shelves and bedposts. All that's here is dust. Damian, haven't you used this room recently?
My taste is particular, and I haven't found the right sub yet.
His eyes lock on mine, so intense I swallow hard. I pick up a funny-lookig scale.
What's this?
That's a nipple tree. You attach both ends to the nipples and twist the knob on top to tighten the clamps.
An image of him attaching the clamps to my nipples flashed in my head. As if reading my mind, he quirks an eyebrow.
I thought you knew about BDSM toys.
I never said that. It would be impossible to know everything. Toys change all the time.
Yes, but you should be familiar with the basics. A dom's job is to please their sub. A sub's job is to know their environment.
He gestures to a shelf full of toys smugly.
Damian: Show me what you know.
I take in the shelf of toys and shrug. Maybe I don't know as much as I thought.
At least you are honest.
He walks up behind me, his chest pressed against my back, and traces the tip of a spiky metal tool.
Damian: The right dom will show you everything you need to know.
Juliet: Do you know of one?
I turn, my lips just inches from Damian. His voice is low and heavy.
Hello? Where's everyone?
At my brother's voice, I quickly scramble into the living room. Ethan sets out blank poster boards on the floor.
Ethan: There you are. I think I have enough posters for now. If we each make 5.
Juliet: Whoa, wait a minute. poster boards?
For my campaign. It starts tomorrow, remember?
He looks up at me, taking in my flushed face and outfit.
Ethan: But that's not why you are here, is it?
Juliet: Are you kidding? Of course, that's why.
It's my fault, I asked Juliet here for work.
Work? dressed like that?
RIIIING!Damian's phone echoes through the room, cutting Ethan off.
I can hear Elliot's frantic voice on the other side. Finally, Damian ends the call.
There's an emergency at the club.
Oh my God, we have to go.
Damian: But Ethan...
He trails off, looking guiltily at Ethan and the posters. Finally, Ethan sighs.
Go on, both of you. I'll handle these myself.
Really, you are not mad?
How can I be? This is your job. You are actually being responsible for once.