Colorful Escape
It’s magical
I made it to the end of the week!
Stepping onto the private jet, I’m excited for my second auction. Brimming with extra confidence since my scene with Mistress Kim, I feel ready to be challenged.
Curious about our destination tonight, I’m interested to discover if the hors d’oeuvres we were served on Monday night hints at our destination. Based on the food presented to us this week, my bets are on a coastal city in Latin America like Cancún.
Having written a much simpler fantasy for this auction, I’m looking forward to becoming someone’s muse. I envision an intimate encounter where I’m commanded to pose in different positions for their viewing pleasure while they tease me relentlessly. And then it all ends in really hot sex!
Still in awe of the opulent jet, I settle down in one of the plush leather seats and wait for takeoff with my friends.
Once we’re in the air, Headmaster Wallace addresses us.
“Welcome to the second auction of the class. As a reminder, you will find your fantasy journal inside your cabin. You are expected to examine what you have written and eliminate any detail you do not want played out.”
I smile to myself, certain there is nothing in mine that could trip me up.
“The auction will begin at one o’clock,” Lord Murray states. “As before, you will be provided with a driver once you arrive at the hotel. You will have several hours to explore the area.”
Before we are dismissed, I raise my hand.
“Yes, Miss Lane?”
“How long is the flight?”
“Long enough to get us there.”
I appreciate the trainers’ commitment to keeping the destination secret, as the flight time would help me narrow down the possibilities.
I willingly surrender my phone to Mistress Kim and head to my cabin.
Slipping into the luxurious silk pajamas, I prop up the pillows before grabbing my journal from my nightstand.
A stickler for rules, I read through my fantasy even though it’s unnecessary: Chased into an art gallery after being harassed.
Meeting an artist who claims we have met before.
Leaving the pompous gallery only to meet up with the men again.
Rescued by the same artist and taken to his studio, where he asks me to be his muse.
Lying on the floor while he splashes paint…
And then I see it.
The small detail I missed that has the potential to derail me.
He gently lays his shirt over my face…
It seemed sexy when I wrote it. But the thought of not being able to see when I’m naked, lying in a vulnerable position in an unfamiliar place with someone I might not know, sets off alarms in my head.
Although it seems insignificant, after my near panic during that one scene, I decide it’s better to be safe than sorry.
Picking up the form, I jot down the issue and describe why it is a problem for me.
Exceedingly grateful I chose not to skip the assignment, I give myself a little pat on the back before setting the form on the nightstand with my journal. Turning off the light, I snuggle into the comfy bed.
Knowing the rigorous schedule ahead, I close my eyes and wait for the soft music to begin playing in the suite and smile when the soothing song begins. I relax and allow it to gently lull me to sleep.
Before I know it, the light wakes me up and I pull myself out of bed to quickly head to the bathroom ahead of everyone else. But when I walk in, I find Pixie Girl is already there, busy putting on the last of her makeup.
More power to you! I think to myself as I head to the stalls.
I can’t imagine how early she had to get up to look that put-together, but I admire her determination.
After freshening up, I straighten up my cabin and head to the front to exchange my completed form for my cell phone. I sit there, eagerly waiting for Headmaster Wallace to announce where we’ve just landed.
“This is your reminder to return to the hotel before one o’clock…” Headmaster Wallace announces. I hold my breath, anxious to see if I am right about our destination.
“Enjoy Barcelona.”
Even though I’m off by a whole continent, I take that as a win because I know I cracked the code! Unfortunately, I can’t claim my small victory with everyone else since I kept my suspicions to myself. Still, I can’t stop grinning knowing that I’m right.
Headmaster Wallace happens to notice and says, “By the expression on your face, I take it you’re excited about being in Barcelona?”
I shake my head, answering cheekily, “I’ve never been, but I know the food is good.”
His expression doesn’t change, but I catch the glint in his eye…
I step off the jet with the others and climb into the limousine waiting for us. It turns out that no one among us has been to Barcelona before except Miss Diaz. When pressed for details, the only thing she’ll say is that it’s a colorful place.
I’m unsure if she means the people or the city itself, but as we drive to the hotel under the morning sun, I’m struck by the rolling hills surrounding the coastal city and the huge Gothic cathedral towering over it all.
My jaw drops when the limo pulls up to an opulent hotel a short time later.
The huge building of cream-colored stone is accented with red metalwork in each of the windows.
But the most impressive thing about this place is the entrance itself.
I’ve never seen anything like it, and as we walk through it and into the hotel, I can’t help but gawk at the tall awning covered in a canopy of lavish burgundy curtains.
The nine of us are escorted through an equally extravagant lobby and taken up to the top floor, where I am shown to my room.
It has an air of old-world elegance mixed with a modern style.
Instead of a canopy bed, like the last one, this room has a large bed with classic white linen, a crystal chandelier above, flocked wallpaper on the walls, and a television screen hidden within a grand mirror.
Knowing I don’t have a lot of time, I quickly freshen up and throw my hair up in a ponytail before heading back down to the lobby. This time, my chauffeur is a sophisticated woman named Marta.
I ask her to take me to the places she feels best represent the heart of Barcelona.
“In that case, you must visit the terrace,” she insists.
I’m surprised when she leads me back to the elevator.
She takes me up to the roof, where I am greeted with a stunning view of the city.
The buildings are painted in an array of beautiful colors, but I’m completely spellbound when I spot the giant cathedral in the distance towering above everything else.
It isn’t simply the view that’s spectacular.
The terrace itself is like a park, with winding paths, several ponds, and inviting gazebos.
But what makes this place truly unique is the art by popular Barcelona artists scattered throughout.
I take my time and study each one, disappointed only when Marta informs me that it’s time to leave.
While we drive, Marta shares that the people here are friendly and proud of their culture. Therefore, it’s important I learn four words. She proceeds to teach me how to say “good morning,” “thank you,” “pardon me,” and “goodbye” in Catalan.
“If you can say those four things,” she promises, “the people of Barcelona will see it as a sign of respect and treat you accordingly.”
Grateful for her lesson, I repeat the words to myself to commit them to memory. But I suddenly get distracted when we pass by a building that looks too magical to be real, and I cry out, “What is that?”
She looks at me in the reflection of the rearview mirror and states with pride, “That is Casa Batlló.”
“Can we go back?” I ask, turning in my seat to stare at it.
“Of course. That’s why we’re here.”
After securing parking on the busy street, Marta leads me back to the magical building, and I stand in front of it, staring in awe.
The exterior is covered in a mosaic of broken tiles in shades of blue, green, and violet.
I note the building’s soft curves that flow like waves and the windows that have balconies shaped like masks.
I shake my head, trying to take it all in, and point to the top of the building that has a different texture that resembles shimmering scales. “It almost looks like there’s a dragon up there curled up, sleeping.”
Marta nods. “People call this the House of the Dragon.”
“Can we go inside?”
She nods.”
The interior of the building is even more whimsical and colorful, and every room has a different theme!
I run from room to room, feeling like Alice in Wonderland as I gleefully explore the entire layout.
From the marine motifs to the sculpted woodwork, every room is like walking into an architect’s creative mind.
It’s so surreal and dreamlike that I swear I can’t find a sharp corner in the entire place.
I reluctantly leave the place in a state of awe and return to the car. Because we spent so much time there, Marta informs me, “I suggest we end our tour with the Barri Gòtic. It is the heart of old Barcelona.”
“That sounds perfect,” I gush.
When we start heading toward the huge cathedral, I can’t believe my luck. She parks the car before we can get close, explaining, “Cars are not allowed. We will walk from here.”
Intrigued, I follow closely as Marta takes me down narrow medieval alleys, across hidden courtyards, and through Roman ruins toward the majestic Cathedral in the center.
While walking through the crowded streets, I say “hello” and “pardon me” just as Marta taught me and receive many smiles in return.
When we finally make it to the cathedral, Marta stares at it and says with reverence, “This is the Catedral de la Santa Creu i Santa Eulàlia at the center of Barri Gòtic.”
“It’s magnificent,” I murmur as I stare up at the medieval building.
I marvel at the tall spires and numerous intricate carvings covering the outside, as well as the impressive entrance framed by multiple pointed arches.
It seems impossible that something so massive and detailed could be built by mere mortals.
On our way back through the narrow streets, Marta stops at a small tapas bar and orders several dishes.
Along with trying some lamb and octopus, there are also two dishes I recognize from the Training Center—the tasty potato dish, which I learn is called patatas bravas, and a seafood dish called catalan fideuà with noodles and spicy aioli.
I’m surprised that the dishes from the school are comparable to the originals, which speaks to the expertise of the chefs working at the Luxe Escape.
When we’re done, Marta teaches me one last phrase without telling me what it means. She instructs me to call it out. Cheeks burning with embarrassment, I attempt to match her accent when I say the string of words, “El compte, si us plau.”
Our waitress nods at me and smiles.
“What did I just say?” I whisper to Marta.
“Check, please,” she says with a slight smile. “It’s essential when you are in a hurry.”
It’s the first time since I’ve met her that I’ve seen Marta smile, and I grin right back.
Feeling pleasantly full on the drive back to my hotel, I stare out the window, taking in all of the colorful buildings and rounded foothills in the distance. I never thought I could fall in love with a city and lament that I can’t spend more time in it.
Once we arrive back at the hotel, I make sure to thank Marta for a fabulous day while she waits with me at the elevator.
She frowns and confesses, “Unfortunately, I mismanaged the time, and now you will have less than an hour to get ready by the appointed time.”
I shrug. “That’s plenty of time. Think nothing of it. I wouldn’t change a thing about today!”
She nods stiffly and waits for me to get into the elevator. Convinced she must be a Domme based on how she presents herself, I watch her walk away, honored that she chose to share the day and her city with me.
Standing behind the curtain with my classmates, I can feel the rise in nervous energy. I have to admit not knowing who your Dominant will be for the day is intimidating. I take a quick peek through the curtain and scan the room, hoping to see some familiar faces.
“Wow, the people from Barcelona sure are good-looking,” Michelle murmurs behind me in a voice that’s too loud. I quickly close the curtain so we don’t get caught.
I turn to see Headmaster Wallace motioning to me. Worried I’m about to get reprimanded, I lower my head when I walk up to him and apologize.
“I’ll accept your apology if you vow never to do it again. Little things like that can tarnish the reputation of our school.”
“I understand,” I answer with regret.
“On the positive side, I was encouraged to see your amendment to your fantasy today. Based on what you learned this week, that could have been an obstacle for you.”
I look up and meet his gaze. “I appreciate your assistance on this. I didn’t think anything of it until last night.”
“It’s good to see your growth, but it’s also important not to let your confidence get the better of you. It’s a hard lesson I learned starting out.”
I shake my head, unable to imagine him making mistakes like me.
He pats me on the shoulder when Mistress Kim starts calling names to line up, and to my surprise, my name is among the first three called.
Miss Diaz is the first to be called onto the stage.
Looking refreshed and happier than I’ve ever seen her, the normally shy submissive smiles broadly when the announcer introduces her to the audience.
The bidding starts quickly and ends with a flurry.
She is handed to a Dom called Regulus for a higher price than anyone got at our first auction.
Starting the auction off strong, Carlisle is the next to take the stage. Unfortunately, the bidding starts off low and takes time to pick up. But by the end, the announcer calls, “Going once…going twice…sold to Mistress Ama for seven hundred euros.”
I sigh nervously when the announcer begins my introduction. Mistress Kim nods as I start up the stairs to the stage. She subtly smacks my ass on the exact spot where she imprinted the three flowers.
It gives me the boost I need as I nervously walk out on the stage.