Chapter Forty-Five Rae
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Rae
I’M WEARING A GARTER belt to work on Wednesday, along with pale pink, gossamer-thin thigh-highs. Also, as it happens, no panties.
Because if I’m going to suffer from this no-orgasms nonsense, Grant had better suffer too. I may be a Very Good Girl who enjoys pleasing her Dom, but I also, without a doubt, enjoy a good dose of comeuppance.
My Dom. Just thinking those words warms me as I walk up the exterior steps. I enter Sugar’s lobby, where Sam’s at reception on a call. She lifts a hand, and I stop beside her desk.
I really need to talk to someone. Badly. But she makes a face and waves before tucking her head down and whispering into what I realize is not the office phone but her cell.
Oh my god. Is it the secret fuckboy?
With a smile, I mouth, Can we catch up?
She replies with a silent, Lunch?
I give her a thumbs-up and brace myself to go into the office. Is Grant even in yet?
Just then Klaus and Blake round the corner from the kitchen.
“Look, Rae.” Klaus stomps right up to me. “This has got to stop.”
“This?”
“Work Daddy,” Blake says, like I’m a fool. “We need him gone. Stat.”
“Uh, why?”
“We’ll all be out of work soon ’cause of him,” says Klaus. “I saw the investors’ meeting in Dorothy’s schedule.”
“He’s here to screw us.” Blake sounds as certain as I’ve ever heard her.
“I don’t think—”
Klaus leans in and stage-whispers, “He’s a hedge fund guy, isn’t he? Dammit, Rae, I really wanted to see you two get dirty, but…”
“We’re shutting down the office pool,” says Blake.
I look from her to Klaus. “The what?”
“You know. The betting. You and Work Daddy.”
I groan. “Listen to me, you two. Grant is not here for your jobs.”
“How do you know?” asks Blake.
I open my mouth and shut it, look down at the outfit I chose today—to tease this ostensibly bad guy—and make a decision. “Have either of you done something wrong?”
Blake looks abruptly down at the floor, guilt scrawled all over her features.
“Define wrong,” says Klaus.
“Something fireable.” When that doesn’t have an effect, I roll my eyes and add, “By Dorothy. Have you done anything that our boss, Dorothy, would fire you for?”
“Uh, no.”
“Obviously not.”
“Well then, you’re good. Relax.”
“Really?” Blake eyes Klaus, who looks over at where Sam, still on the phone, shrugs.
“You sure?”
I swallow, remembering the sweetness of Grant on the phone last night, the affection in his voice, and come to a decision. “I’m sure. Grant’s a good guy.” A pause, and then I jump in feetfirst. “I promise.”
I need a minute in the restroom after that confrontation. When I walk back through the lobby, Sam is still on the phone. Something’s going on there. Something more than just a married guy. Which I’ll be getting to the bottom of, as soon as she and I get a chance to talk.
She ignores my look.
Okay, then. I guess there’s nothing left for me to do but face my office mate.
Grant looks up as I walk in. Just his eyes move as he continues typing, watching me cross the room, put my jacket away, and finally take in the room’s new arrangement. It’s official. We’re face-to-face again.
I do my best to ignore him, sit down, and open my computer.
But let’s be honest, anyone with eyes can see that I’m not entirely myself right this second.
I’m an amped-up version. My butt, sore and oversensitive from where my wool skirt’s rubbing against the vestiges of last night’s spanking, is a constant turn-on.
Headphones on, email inbox open.
I sneak a glance, sure I’ll catch him staring. Nope.
My nerves continue to fizz as I go about starting my day.
Dani swings by asking for sticky notes, and another colleague wants printer paper.
Both times, as I’m about to respond, Grant cuts in and tells them to look in the storage closet, down the hall.
While it’s not great for his already poor reputation with the staff, I rather enjoy not being the one to tell them.
He is, after all, already considered the bad guy.
Unlike my colleagues, though, I no longer see Grant as a threat.
Would I like to be let in on what, exactly, he expects to find at Sugar?
Yes. Of course. But I trust him in a way I didn’t before.
He’s not a man who’d go and fire people for no reason.
Deprive a poor, horny woman of her rightful orgasms?
Absolutely. Of a job? My instincts say that he would not.
I check the time. A little before noon. Seems as good a time as any to start my campaign to make him regret the orgasm embargo.
I gather a few files from my desk drawer and head to one of the cabinets, where I get down on my knees and then move to all fours to slide them all the way back.
Behind me, all typing stops.
Grant can’t see my sore bottom. I know that. But I specifically chose this length of skirt to play peekaboo with my garters.
No orgasms, he says. Well, no orgasms, my (well-spanked) ass.
It doesn’t take long for him to clear his throat. “Do you have lunch plans, Rae?”
My mind goes blank. “Do I?”
“We should, ah, meet. About…”
“The thing,” I finish.
“The thing.”
“Yes, sir.” We stare at each other through a silence that is positively throbbing with subtext. “I mean, Grant,” I amend. “Oh, actually, I have to check with Sam.”
I duck out into the lobby, where my bestie’s madly tapping at her phone.
The second she sees me, she slams it face down on her desk. “Rae!”
“Hey. You mentioned lunch, but I’ve got the…”
“Yeah, actually, I can’t. Not today. There’s…”
“Retreat coming up, so lots of…”
“An event,” she finishes, nodding.
“Meetings.” I end at the very same time and immediately feel bad about lying. “You good?” I ask.
Sam’s hand flies down to still her buzzing phone. “Great. Awesome. Just…” Her shrug is so painfully casual that I know for a fact that something’s off.
“Hey. Maybe we should cancel our…” I wave a hand in the air. “Events. And have lunch after all, you know?” I cast a quick look over my shoulder before leaning in and whispering, “I have so much to tell you.”
“Me too, Rae.”
“Let’s do it. Lunch. Come on. My treat.”
“Yeah, I—” Her phone buzzes again. She picks it up, reads whatever it says, and I watch in real time as her face morphs into a look I never thought I’d see again.
The expression’s only there for a split second, but it’s enough.
She looks young and scared, like the Sam I first met back in middle school.
The Sam who didn’t have enough food at home, whose mom was never around, and whose dad was a one-weekend-a-month kind of father.
The second she opens her mouth, I can tell she’s going to turn me down.
What I don’t expect is the sudden wide grin and whispered, “Booty call, baby.” She lifts her chin toward my office door.
“You do yours. We’ll compare notes, okay?
” Her secretive giggle makes me think I imagined that whole look on her face.
“You’ve got a lot of talking to do, lady. ”
A wash of heat floods me. It’s equal parts embarrassment and excitement, and when Sam shoos me off with one hand while tapping on her phone with the other, I decide that thing I saw was just my own guilt for not being as present as I should be when she’s obviously got as much going on in her life as I do.
With a smile of my own, I head back to the office.
“Now?” I ask Grant.
He takes his time to finish whatever he’s typing, his lips turning up only slightly when he responds with “Now.”
Sam’s nowhere to be seen when we leave together, heading downstairs in silence. A quick check of the sidewalk, and he lets us into the club and then down another flight.
It’s totally different here during the day.
“I’ll show you around.” Grant tilts his head toward the low table where we first met. “Bar area here, which you are familiar with. Cocktails and chill out over there.” The sofas are soft, buttery leather. Easy to clean, I imagine.
“These are semiprivate play areas.” He pulls a heavy velvet curtain aside to show me one of a dozen small nooks.
“I had no idea these were here.”
“That’s the beauty of it.” He opens the next one, watching me. “Exhibitionists can open it. More private people leave it closed.”
“No peeking?”
“Those peeking—without prior approval—are given a warning and then thrown out. Come on.” He takes my hand and leads me to a door, which he unlocks. “The front is fully clothed. No nudity allowed.”
“And back here?”
“Private rooms through there.” He walks me into a smaller area filled with wooden crosses and benches, seats, and cages.
There’s a stage to one side and another door at the back.
“This is the members-only dungeon. Hold on.” He does something on his phone, and music floats out of speakers that I can’t see.
I stare around, taking in details and cataloging them in my head for use in the book nook. “I thought the whole place was members only.”
“Yes, well, there’s a ranking system.”
“That seems elitist.”
“Not really. Given what happens back here, we require longevity and trust before opening these doors.”
“Would I be allowed back here?”
“As my sub, yes.”
“And after? When I’m not your sub?”
His expression goes dark. “The club owners would all have to be in agreement.”
“Would you vouch for me, Grant?”
He watches me, head angled as if to get a fresh perspective. “Well, that depends, doesn’t it?”
“On what?”
“On whether or not you were a good girl.”
“I was,” I reply with embarrassing speed. “I am. I promise.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” A pointed look at his watch. “I’ve got thirty minutes.” He’s already rolling up his sleeves as he leads me over to a bench in the corner. “Lie down.”
“But, I don’t know, it’s, like… lunchtime.”
“Yep.” He smirks. “And I’m hungry, sweet girl.”