Chapter 11 #3
“And to look for a new car for the goons. Shit, I can’t wait to see their faces when we tell them they’re still not allowed in Gilby’s garage,” Christopher says, looking pleased with himself, and very certain of what our decision will be.
“I’ll leave that task to you, then,” Damon says, his eyes gleaming and a small smile on his face, obviously amused by Christopher’s pleasure at the idea. “Gilby, Giselle, until tomorrow. We’ll be back in the evening.”
“Thank you,” I say, feeling like it’s nowhere near enough, but what else can be said?
“Yeah,” Christopher says, still grinning. “What else could we do? We’ve been there.”
“You’re very welcome,” Damon says, looping an arm around Christopher’s shoulders. “Let’s get going. I have plans for you tonight.”
Chrsitopher’s brows arch. “Do you, now? I might have some plans of my own. For you.”
They stare at each other, and I can feel the power emanating from them both. I have no idea who will win this particular power struggle, and it’d be a beautiful thing to see, but I have my girl on my mind tonight.
They head out, Chrsitopher pausing to give Giselle a quick kiss on the cheek and, I think, whispering to her again.
Then we’re alone. The luxurious apartment feels enormous with just the two of us in it.
I offer her my hand, and she jumps up and rushes into my arms. And right then, with her warmth pressed up against me and her scent in my head, I feel like everything is going to be alright.
She makes us a nice dinner, wanting to keep her hands busy, even though I offered to order in.
Watching her move around the kitchen as I finish my gin feels so comfortable, I can’t imagine us going back to the way things were before.
But there’s an edge of tension. There are still questions that haven’t been answered, questions that will determine our future.
I’m trying my best to give her time to process, and maybe myself, too.
Are we still playing house? I won’t know until we’ve talked and she confirms what she wants. But me? I already damn well know. I’ve known for years.
We eat at the dining table by one of the huge windows, and despite the wall of glass, it feels like we’re in some sort of cocoon, with the fog rolling in from the Bay, and just a few of the lights from the street peeking through.
Classic San Francisco. It reminds me of the London fog.
I have a quick flash of the evening I first met Giselle and Sandrine.
It was a damp, foggy, late-spring night, much like tonight here in our new home city.
I’d had no fucking idea how that night would totally change my life.
It’s like my brain was restructured that night, the minute I met them. Met her.
We eat slowly, talking a bit here and there while avoiding the subject at hand.
Finally, after she takes the dishes to the kitchen, she sits back down in her chair across the table from me.
It’s time to tackle the huge goddamn elephant in the room.
I reach out to take her hand and feel a small shiver go through her.
Or was it a shudder? Hard to tell with my own heart hammering away in my chest.
“So. We need to talk this out.”
“Yes, I know.”
“What are your thoughts?” I prompt her.
She purses her lips for a moment, something I don’t think I’ve ever seen her do.
“I think…I think I need to talk to someone.”
“Do you want me to have Sandrine sent over here?”
“No. No. She won’t have any idea of the things I’m struggling with. She couldn’t possibly understand. She’s so happy and content exactly where she is. She’s never understood why I would want anything else.”
“Yeah, makes sense, I guess. So, do you have any ideas about who you want to talk this over with?”
“Do you think…they would allow me to talk to Aimée? I feel as if she’s the only one who will understand me, who has been through this herself.”
“I can ask.”
“Can we… Can you do it now?” she asks, her eyes big and round.
Her cheeks are pale, and it slices through me like a knife, that she’s suffering, and not in the way any of us are getting off on. I don’t fucking like it.
“Yeah, yeah, of course. I’ll make the call right now.”
I pick up her hand and brush a kiss across her fingers before standing and going to grab my phone. I put in a quick call to Christopher’s cell, and a few minutes later he rings me back
“I’m patching our Aimée through,” Christopher says. “Give your phone to Giselle. And give her some privacy.”
“Yeah, of course. Giselle, Aimée is on the phone for you. Go into the bedroom and close the door. I’ll be out here.”
She nods, her breath coming fast and a little hard, and as she reaches to take the cell phone from my hand I can see her pulse working at her throat. I feel just as flustered m’self. I don’t like it one bloody bit.
My gaze follows as she moves into the bedroom and gently shuts the door.
Left on my own, I go to stand at the window, looking down at the foggy city, and trying to remind myself that this place feels like home.
But now that I know she’s talking to someone about her decision, that she has doubts or questions she didn’t feel she could bring to me, my mind is boiling with worry.
I’ve been a confident man my whole adult life. Well, in most things. Certainly in my role in this world. But now? Now my role is maybe about to change, and how I get from day to day will change no matter what she decides. But fuck me if I’m not going a little crazy waiting to find out.
Could I just tell her what to do? Yeah, I could, and she would likely do it. But despite the crazy shit we do in this kink realm, it’s still all about consent, and I won’t play it any other way. Never have, never will. Especially not with her.
I go to the bar and pour another gin, letting it sit on the ice for a minute or two before I sip it. That clean burn feels good going down, and my nerves calm a bit. But just a bit.
I begin to pace the length of the room, wondering why the fuck her conversation is going on so long.
Then I berate myself. Of course she’s going to need some time to talk this out, and I can’t begrudge her whatever time she needs.
The way I worry over the ways my life could change is fucking nothing in comparison to the changes she’ll face, if she wants to do this.
I pray to a god I don’t fucking believe in that she does.
Finally, she comes out of the room. Her eyes are red, making me wonder how the conversation went with Aimée.
Making my whole fucking body tense up, as if waiting for a blow.
And I can take it, if it comes to that, but can she?
I move toward her slowly, trying to gauge where her head is at.
As I get closer she starts to cry—not those quiet tears in her eyes that slip down her cheek, but her lovely face just fucking falling apart as she comes into my arms.
What the fuck? Is this it? Is it all over?
Panic sets in as I guide her to the sofa and sit, taking her with me. I brush her hair from her face, then wipe her tears with my sleeve.
“What is it?” I ask her, as gently as I can, even though I want to fucking scream it into the air. “Are you alright? Talk to me, Giselle.”
Another few rough heartbeats, each one like a sledgehammer to my soul as I wait for her to answer.
“I’m okay. Or I will be. Because I will be with you, Gilby,” she finally answers, pulling back to look into my eyes.
Oh, there’s a shit-eating grin on my face I can’t control.
“Jesus fuck, but you kept me waiting on that, did ya? Maybe there’s a bit of a sadist in you, my girl.”
She smiles through her tears, then lets out a small laugh.
“How was your talk with Aimée?”
“She helped me so much. I needed to talk things through with someone who understood. Because I had to question everything, even though I knew what I wanted. I’ve had to ask myself, how could the House and my servitude and my contract compete with my love for you?
I dedicated myself to The Training House because I knew I could never have you.
And I pledged myself to silence because my heart was so irrevocably broken, I knew of no other way out.
And I have loved what the House has given me, the yearning it has fulfilled in my deepest slave heart.
But I can’t hold that pledge any longer if I am to be with you.
Everything will change, even if my role at the House stays largely the same.
How to find that balance? I needed to talk with someone who has done it.
I needed to tell someone else of my love for you, of my need to be with you.
Of my fears around how that will change so much for me. ”
“Yeah, I get it. I do. Things will change for me, too, if not as much.” I stroke her hair from her damp cheek. Her skin is so warm. “Can you tell me what Master Christopher whispered to you? Or did he tell you not to?”
“Oh, yes! Master Christopher has a therapist for me to talk to, one who specializes in…our kinds of issues. She’s part of our world herself. Aimée has spoken with her, and she says she has been very helpful.”
“Ah, that’s Mistress Helene, yeah?”
“Yes. You know of her?”
“Yeah, I do. She was a slave, then a Mistress. A bit of a mystery, that one, but very good at what she does, I hear.”
“So you approve? I just feel that I might need some help in figuring out how to become…a different person in some regard. I’ve been nothing but a slave for so long, and even though we’ve been here and you’ve dressed me and taken me out in public, it’s been playing house, as we said.
But so much is about to change, even though I’ll still serve the House.
It will be an unusual position, one other slaves don’t experience. Not in our world.”
“Except for Aimée, and Master Victor’s Nevan, maybe a handful of others. I’m glad you got to talk with her.”
“So am I. And Gilby? Thank you. For all of this. For loving me enough to find a way.”
She blinks up at me with those big hazel eyes, eyes made of green and gold that shine in the lamplight. Eyes I love in the way I do every single thing about her.
I take her face in my hands. “I love you so goddamn much, my girl, so deeply. Down to my soul, I swear it. And I’m so damn lucky that you love me back.”
I pull her closer and kiss her, softly, in a way that feels important, given our decision about what lies ahead.
The kiss deepens, her sweet tongue slipping into my mouth, trying to take control, and I chuckle against her lips as I pull back.
“Ah, no, my love. Things may be about to change, but you are never going to be in charge.”
She smiles. “No, you’re right, of course. And I don’t truly want to be. But…I do need this.”
She slips to her knees at my feet. “I need to have some normality.
This is a lot of change after all these years.
I need to know that I can still have with you what I need most, besides your love.
I need you to be my Master. Please. I need everything you have given me since we came here.
But I also need this. It's too scary to wonder if this part goes away. I need...that sense of stability, to know I can still count on it, no matter what. I need to be yours.”
“And you shall have it, my girl,” I tell her. “My girl. Get to your feet and strip.”
My heart is full. And my dick is hard already.