I Am a Dominant Read online

  Tightening my grip around her hand I headed to the booth. To reach it I had to skirt the edge of the hardwood playroom floor; it was center stage, a place for exhibitionists, or those who wished to chastise their partners for all to see, and there was quite a bit of activity.

  “I can’t believe this,” she whispered.

  She was sticking to my side and I suppressed a smile; not five minutes before she didn’t want me near her.

  “All of it, or something in particular?”

  “All of it.”

  “We can leave.”

  “No, it’s like a car accident on the side of the road; you don’t want to look but you have to.”

  “I’m not sure they’d appreciate the comparison,” I laughed, “but I do understand.”

  We reached the booth, and as we slipped in we were engulfed by shadow.

  “This is much better,” she said, relief in her voice.

  “I know, it’s a popular place to sit. I’m surprised it’s available. There is a table lantern here somewhere, but I’ve never seen it lit.”

  She let out a heavy sigh, and I thought I saw her shoulders drop.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked gently.

  “Talk about what?” she replied, the edge returning to her voice.

  “Whatever, or probably whoever, made you so angry.”

  “There’s no point,” she replied. “Men are all the same, underneath your charm and perfect manners you’ll be the same as well.”

  “How are we all the same?” I pressed, keeping my voice calm and even.

  “Self-obsessed, always right, never listen, think you know everything, but most of all you’re all cowards. That’s about it in a nutshell.”

  “Sounds fairly accurate,” I agreed, “but it also describes most of the women I’ve met, except for the cowardly bit. I’m interested in hearing more about that.”

  It was difficult to see her expression in the shadows, but I could sense her hesitation.

  “I know you’re just being nice because you want to… do…stuff…to me,” she said haltingly, waving her arm towards the playroom floor. “You see me as a challenge, you see me as a woman who needs all that dominant crap, like Janet does, and I just don’t get it.”

  “Hmmm, you’re close,” I admitted, “but I don’t see you as a challenge. Do you want me to tell you what I think you need?”

  “Not really, but sure, go ahead.”

  “You need that,” I said gently, leaning across the table so she could see me nodding my head towards the couple she’d been fixated on.

  They were arm and arm, watching a girl being led to the stocks.

  “You don’t just need it, you want it, and you know you want it. You want someone to love you, but you secretly want that person to put you over their knee once and a while, someone to sort you out.”

  “See, see what I mean?” she hissed. “You think I need sorting out.”

  “You do,” I said simply, “and you know you do. I think you purposely provoke men to see if they’ll put you in your place, and so far you haven’t met anyone who will, anyone who will rise to the occasion. Am I right?”

  I knew she felt safe in the shadows, I knew the darkness had given her the courage to open up to me, and I knew she was aching to admit I was right; I also knew she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it.

  “Why would anyone want to be in the stocks?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject.

  “Why does anyone do anything? Because they enjoy it.”

  “Is he about to paddle her? Is that a strap he’s holding?”

  “Yes and yes,” I grinned.

  “Have you ever done that to someone?”

  “You mean the stocks, or the strap?”

  “Both, I guess.”

  “The stocks, several times, the strap, or a paddle, many, many times.”

  “Huh. Interesting. What’s it like?”

  “What’s it like to paddle someone? It’s hard to describe. It can be different things depending on the circumstances, let’s see, satisfying, exciting, arousing…”

  “What about for her, the one getting it?”

  “Probably the same,” I replied. “Again, it depends on why she’s being spanked.”

  I watched her, and her eyes were darting from the man sliding the wide strap across the girl’s bottom, to the couple arm in arm, but when the first stroke of the leather hit she cringed.

  “Ouch,” she hissed. “Why is she smiling?”

  “I told you, it’s enjoyable, but she won’t be smiling for long. When the heat and sting sets in she’ll be apologizing profusely, or asking him to stop, or both.”

  Glancing at my watch I saw it was time to move on, though I was reluctant. She wasn’t just fascinated by what she was witnessing, she was beginning to truly engage, but I’d promised Peter I’d make sure she’d be out of there and it was time for us to go.

  “I think it’s time I showed you the back room.”

  “There’s more?”

  “As I have often said, there’s always more,” I grinned, and sliding from the booth I reached for her hand.

  Behind the playroom is an intimate lounge, offering couches, bar tables with high stools, and a few regular tables that seat four. The lounge not only serves drinks, but has a delectable selection of munchies. There are waitresses, and on the weekends it’s advisable to make a reservation, but I’ve never had a problem finding somewhere to plonk myself down and have a drink and a bite to eat.

  “Food,” Sally declared as we walked in. “Thank God, I’m starving.”

  The tables were full so we chose a couch, and ordered drinks and a platter of mixed appetizers.

  “You never did tell me why you think men are cowards. I’m very interested.”

  “Simple,” she said resignedly. “Because when the going gets tough they bail.”

  “Hmm, there are usually several reasons why people bail, not just one, and people bail on both sides, not just men. Are you saying you’ve never ended a relationship?”

  She frowned, and it was obvious she didn’t have a comeback. Finally flipping her hair she said,

  “You asked, I answered.”

  “Sally, have you-” but I hit the brakes mid-sentence; her eyes had darted up, and looking behind me I saw the couple, walking through the door.

  “They really grabbed your attention,” I remarked. “What is about them?”

  “It’s him. He’s just so…I don’t know how to say it…attentive, and she looks so happy. I just don’t understand how that can be.”

  “Why, because he spanks her?”

  “Exactly,” she nodded.

  “That’s why she’s so happy,” I sighed. “There’s an old saying, you don’t know what you’re missing. There’s also, try it, you might like it.”

  “Please, spare me the cliches. There must be more to it than the enjoyment thing. It seems much more intense than that.”

  “It is. Too much to try to explain here. I will tell you, when it comes to discipline I never spank in anger or frustration. I wait, cool off, have a conversation, then take whatever action is appropriate. For example,” I continued, lowering my voice, “if you were to come home with me I’d spank you for being rude. You may be angry and hurt right now, but that doesn’t justify your earlier behavior.”

  I watched her carefully, and to her credit her eyes never left mine. The blush happened though, slowly creeping up her neck, and to my surprise she sighed and nodded.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry about that.”

  The sigh and the nod was one thing, but her apology shocked me. It was warm, and it was sincere, and for the first time I felt that I was seeing who Sally really was.

  “Sally, may I ask, what’s your last name?”

  “Harrison.”

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Sally Harrison,” I smiled.

  She smiled back, a little chagrined.

  “What about you?”

  “Collie
r, James Collier.”

  “That’s a great name. I hate my name.”

  That shocked me too.

  “Which, the Sally or the Harrison?”

  “Sally, it sounds like a milking maid’s name.”

  The waitress appeared with a platter of delicious looking bite-sized morsels and carefully placed them on the table, promising to return swiftly with our drinks, but Sally’s statement had me hooked.

  “There’s nothing wrong with milking maids,” I remarked, “but regardless, Sally’s a very appealing name.”

  “Well, thank you, but I don’t think so,” she said firmly, then picked up a toast cracker with smoked salmon and cream cheese, and popped it in her mouth.

  She closed her eyes and moaned with pleasure, and for the first time I felt a stirring, but immediately wrestled my thoughts back to her statement.

  How can you go through life hating your name? Latest boyfriend dumping you aside, that could account for some of your unhappiness.

  “Do you have a middle name?”

  “Yes, Caroline. I like Caroline. I wish I’d been called Caroline.”

  “So, why don’t you start using it?” I suggested. “Many people use their first initial and middle name.”

  “They do?”

  Her dark eyes had lit up, and she stared at me intensely.

  “Sure. You look like a Caroline, and you’d be in good company; there’s the famous Neil Diamond song, Sweet Caroline, I’m sure you can be sweet at times,” I said facetiously, “Princess Caroline, Caroline Kennedy-”

  “James, I love the idea, I absolutely love it,” she interrupted. “Thank you. I’d almost let you spank me for that.”

  Her effusive gratitude was heartwarming, but I had to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked, her almond shaped eyes widening in protest.

  “You’d let me spank you? Caroline, I have no desire to spank you, not unless you want me to, and I mean, really want me to”

  “I don’t know about these things,” she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.

  “Maybe one day you will,” I winked.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Sally/Caroline And One Afternoon

  After we’d finished our snack and left the lounge I escorted her back to the table where she met up with Janet and Peter. I said my goodbyes, and though tempted to ask for her number I thought better of it, but walking out to the car, for a brief moment I regretted the decision.

  Several months passed, and from time to time I’d recall those luminescent dark smoky eyes staring at me, but I didn’t see Peter at the club to inquire about her. I finally asked Charles if he knew how I could get in touch with him, and he told me Peter had been transferred to an office in Paris. I assumed that was the end of it, and that Sally, aka Caroline, would remain an interesting and intriguing memory.

  It has been said that significant things happen in our lives when we least expect it.

  Late one afternoon I was standing in the food court at Harrods picking up something for dinner when I heard a voice that sounded wonderfully familiar. Sally. Turning around I saw the back of her, but had I not heard the voice I may not have recognized her.

  At the time we’d met I’d been so taken with her dark eyes and sultry voice, I’d barely paid any attention to her hair, but it definitely wasn’t the deep auburn color I was staring at.

  My eyes traveled down her body, and I saw a tailored jacket flattering her waist, a pencil skirt accentuating an extremely appealing, round backside, and shapely legs encased in black stockings that led to black matte pumps; the entire look was elegantly sexy, so sexy it quite took my breath away.

  Keeping close watch so I wouldn’t lose sight of her, I collected my dinner and moved across to make myself known, but her exchange with the young woman behind the counter sounded too entertaining to interrupt.

  “I’ve been here for ten minutes, it doesn’t take ten minutes to make a sandwich,” she said impatiently to the flustered young server.

  “I’m sorry, we’re just really busy at the moment,” the girl apologized.

  “How much longer am I going to have to wait?”

  “I’ll check for you Madame, just give me a minute.”

  “Oh, for goodness sake,” she said tersely.

  “Has it really been ten minutes?” I asked, leaning forward and lowering my voice, “or are you exaggerating?”

  I saw her body tense, and heard a very slight, sharp intake of breath, then she slowly began to turn. When those dark almond-shaped eyes stared up at me, I wondered why I’d been so foolish as to disappear into the night all those months before.

  “James!” she exclaimed, breaking into a broad smile.

  “And what do I call you?” I smiled back.

  “Caroline, of course,” she proudly replied.

  “You look absolutely fabulous,” I declared, “truly fabulous.”

  “Madame, here you are.”

  As she turned around to accept the container from the nervous young woman, I impulsively whispered,

  “Be nice, or I’ll have to take you back to my house and spank you.”

  Her head snapped around and she shot me a look, but then started to laugh.

  “How about I bribe you with a drink instead.”

  “Deal,” I nodded, “but you still have to be nice.”

  She was, thanking the sales clerk and apologizing for being rude, and as we left the food court I guided her through the famous department store towards a particular exit.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked as I led her under the green canopies towards the next street.

  “Have you ever been to The Wilton Arms?”

  “I love the Wilton Arms. That’s perfect.”

  “I’m glad you approve.”

  As we walked I didn’t feel that I was in the presence of a woman with whom I’d only spent a short time several months before. She wasn’t a stranger, but an old friend I’d been lucky enough to run into.

  Entering the comfortable pub, I was pleased the after work crowd had not yet appeared and the place was pleasantly quiet. As I settled into a table by the window, she went to the bar to buy our drinks.

  “Before we start chatting about stuff,” she began as she sat down, “there’s something I need to say.”

  “Say away,” I smiled, intrigued by the unexpected announcement.

  “This may sound dramatic, but James, that hour I spent with you…it changed my life.”

  “It did?”

  I certainly didn’t expect the proclamation, and I was so surprised, ‘it did’ was the best I could come up, and I immediately wished I could have thought of something more original.

  “First, I decided if I was going to start using the name Caroline, then I was going to be Caroline, and I gave myself a total makeover. Everything, my hair, my wardrobe, everything.”

  “Well, honestly, you look like a completely different woman, not that Sally wasn’t attractive, but this new and improved version is quite stunning.”

  “Thank you, James. Sally was a bit dowdy, my hair was an icky mousey color, and I rarely wore heels, but now I’m a shoe nut.”

  “You are? I’m a shoe nut,” I declared, “and sexy shoes on women, there’s nothing like it.”

  “There’s more,” she said, lowering her voice, “wait, didn’t you say that? What was it you said about more?”

  “I said, there’s always more.”

  “That’s right, and you said it with a real twinkle in your eye,” she laughed, “anyway, as I was saying…”

  “Yes…there’s more,” I winked.

  “Stop it!” she said, her almond eyes wide.

  “I’m not doing anything,” I protested. “Please, continue.”

  “You, James…anyway…I decided to step away from dating for a while, and think about the men I’d chosen, what part I played in the messy relationships I’d had. I gave a great deal of thought to everything you said that night, and the club itself absolutely
haunted me. I almost went back a couple of times but I remembered what you said about men approaching single women, and I wasn’t prepared to deal with that.”

  “After doing all this thinking, did you come to any conclusions?” I asked, truly captivated by what she was telling me.

  “I did, and much of what you said really hit home. Sometimes we do things and we don’t know why we’re doing them. That was the case with me. You were right, I was trying to get a specific reaction out of the men I’d been seeing, but I didn’t really know why.”

  “So, you do things differently now?”

  “That’s a question I can’t answer,” she replied, almost coyly.

  “Wait…are you saying you haven’t been out with anyone since that night?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying, and what you said about that couple, you were right. They’ve stuck in my mind, except for the…uh…spanking bit. My jury’s still out on that.”

  For a moment we were shrouded by a comfortable but awkward silence, if there is such a thing. I can only say that’s what it felt like, and it was me who broke it, asking the only question that could be asked.

  “Would you be interested in having dinner?”

  Her eyes didn’t waver, and leaning forward, resting her hand on her chin, she said,

  “Absolutely.”

  “Excellent, what night this week is good for you?”

  “How about, Thursday? Two nights should give me time to get ready,” she said playfully.

  “Thursday it is.”

  We chatted for a while, she told me about Peter and Janet, and how they’d had to move to Paris for a year. She talked about a promotion she’d received and she claimed it was all because she’d become Caroline, and by the time we parted company I walked away very impressed. The snarky, unhappy girl I’d met several months before bore no resemblance to the positive, witty woman who had bought me a drink.

  We’d exchanged numbers of course, and I called her a couple of times, and each conversation revealed a little more about her. I could tell she still had an edge, as was evident at Harrods, but balanced with her new, upbeat personality it was attractive, and made her, as she’d once described herself, challenging.