Chapter 15
That morning session was its own form of exquisite torture.
Helena had to pay attention to the presentation and the panel discussion, for the simple reason that if she didn’t then she’d look like a fool if one of the partners wanted to talk about it, and looking like a fool was a pretty surefire way to not get invited back again next year.
But… with Caitlin sat just a few rows in front, directly in her eye line, it took a significant effort to focus on anything being said up on stage. She’s there, right there, and she missed me as much as I missed her.
And so on… again and again, each time she thought she was concentrating she’d spot Caitlin again and think about her.
Helena was tempted to pull her phone out and message her, try to play the game they’d played at the town-hall meeting in Houston where Helena had given Caitlin instructions and watched, enthralled, delighted, as Caitlin obeyed, but she didn’t, for two reasons.
First, Caitlin was due up on stage after the morning break to give her presentation on modern data environments, and it was absolutely essential, even more so after hearing about her experiences with Zoe, that Helena respected Caitlin’s professional life.
Messaging her to get her to say something or touch her necklace a certain way or sit in a particular posture would be fun, yes, but it would also send entirely the wrong message to Caitlin about what it could be like between them long term.
And second, there was the question of practicality…
she was wedged between a partner on one side and another high potential attendee on the other, and there was zero privacy.
Even with all the best will in the world one of them couldn’t help but see the messages she’d be typing, and since nobody in that room was lacking in the intelligence stakes it was entirely plausible that they’d work out that something was going on when they saw Caitlin respond.
So… patience. Ironic given how she preached patience to her submissives, but patience was key. That and using every ounce of her will to focus on what was happening up on stage.
It was a long morning.
***
When the panel ended Helena headed for the coffee break, giving Caitlin the professional space that they both needed.
They both moved in separate orbits throughout the break, though Helena would be lying if she claimed that she wasn’t constantly aware of where Caitlin was and who she was talking to.
Helena returned to her seat five minutes before the second half of the morning started and opened her notebook.
A piece of paper fell out… a folded piece of paper that hadn’t been there before the break, and it was heavier than it should be, something inside the fold. She unfolded it and couldn’t help but grin:
Room 1805. 1.15. Don’t be late. Don’t be early. I’ll be hungry. C
Within the paper was a keycard, hotel-issue, white with the logo on one side.
She quickly pocketed it along with the note, her pulse surging as she looked around the room to check that nobody had seen.
There were only a handful of people present, though more were filtering back in by the minute.
Helena watched as Caitlin made her way to her seat, talking animatedly to a couple of colleagues, all three of them laughing at something as they settled back down.
She didn’t even glance Helena’s way, no acknowledgment whatsoever.
She’s magnificent, truly magnificent, Helena thought.
The session was good, all the easier to pay attention to in the knowledge that Caitlin had something planned for lunchtime.
Caitlin’s session was the best of the morning, even if Helena would readily admit to herself that she was biased, but while modern data environments had the potential to be somewhat dry Caitlin somehow elevated it with a mix of humour and some well-chosen case studies that brought the topic to life.
Helena was sure that she wasn’t the only person in the room who saw, in that session, exactly why Caitlin had the nickname of FMP. She was deeply impressive, giving no impression at all that she’d just been promoted. This was her natural environment and Caitlin was spectacularly good at it.
Of course, alongside it all, her mind thought about what might be about to happen in room 1805. She formulated and rejected six different theories about what Caitlin had planned, realising that she just had to wait and see.
At 12.58 the session ended. Helena gathered her things, walked to the restaurant, showed her face for exactly twelve minutes, just long enough to eat one of the biscuits and make small talk that she’d never remember with the Berlin office invitee, and then excused herself, claiming a client call she couldn’t miss, trying to hide her excitement.
Don’t be late. Don’t be early.
Helena smiled to herself at the thought that she’d need to remind her Gatinha who it was who normally gave the orders.
This once, though, she’d definitely let it go.
***
At the precise moment that the clock on her phone turned to 1.15, Helena tapped the keycard and opened the door to room 1805.
Caitlin was standing in the middle of the room in just her lingerie and heels.
White, simple, beautiful. The conference outfit was gone, the partner who’d stood up on stage not an hour before and commanded the room was gone, and in her place was simply Caitlin in a bra and underwear, as well, of course, as the necklace, her hair loose, her eyes bright.
"You’re on time," Caitlin said.
"You told me not to be late."
"I did." Caitlin crossed the room. She didn’t stop until she was close, very close. “I’ve just spent the entire morning being a partner. Being professional, being impressive. And the whole time I was thinking about you in the audience and I couldn’t concentrate because I kept remembering last night. "
"You seemed pretty concentrated from where I was sitting."
"I’m good at putting on a show.” Caitlin put her hands on Helena’s face. "But I’m done performing now. I have something I need to show you."
She kissed Helena. Not as her Gatinha, not as a submissive…
just Caitlin kissing Helena because she wanted to, her hands on Helena’s face, her lips soft and objectively amazing.
Helena kissed her back hard, her hands finding Caitlin’s skin just about her hips, loving the smoothness under her fingertips.
Caitlin broke the kiss and walked Helena backwards to the bed. She sat Helena on the edge, knelt between her legs, and pushed Helena’s skirt up towards her hips.
"I’ve been thinking about this all morning,” Caitlin said, looking up at her.
“Even when I was up on stage. I want to show you how much I’ve learned.
And…” She grinned. “Whatever you might think about everything else I told you last night, I’ve definitely learned.
” Her fingers hooked into Helena’s underwear and pulled them down. “Let me show you how.”
Helena leaned back on her hands and Caitlin lowered her mouth to her. Everything else in the world stopped mattering.
Caitlin was extraordinary. Not just improved, she was transformed.
Last night and that morning Helena had been able to tell that Caitlin knew what she was doing much better now than she had before, but they’d been so caught up in the passion of their reunion that it was as much about being there with each other as anything.
Now, Caitlin was confident, certain, so far removed from the more tentative exploration that Helena remembered from their time in Houston.
She found the right rhythm and the right places quickly, responding to every shift of Helena’s hips and every sound she made.
She was thorough and patient, completely unhurried, as if the conference and the networking lunch had ceased to exist.
Helena let herself go as she rarely could in the dominant-submissive dynamic. This time wasn’t about dominance or submission. This was about a woman on her knees because she wanted to be, showing the woman on the bed exactly how much she wanted her.
Helena came hard, one hand tight in Caitlin’s hair, her other hand gripping the hotel sheets, biting back a cry that probably wouldn’t have been appropriate to have echoing down the corridor on a Thursday lunchtime.
Caitlin helped her through it, drawing it out, then brought her to the edge and over it a second time, and this time Helena really did cry out, repeatedly, it felt too good to do anything but.
When Helena finally opened her eyes, Caitlin was looking up at her with an expression of fierce satisfaction.
"Improvement?" Caitlin asked.
"I’ve turned to jelly." Helena grinned. “So yeah. You got good. Really, really good.”
Caitlin grinned and climbed up beside her. They kissed, Helena tasting herself on Caitlin’s tongue, and lay together for just a couple of minutes, long enough for Helena to feel herself return to something approaching normal.
"I have to go back," Helena said. "I’ve been 'making a phone call' for twenty minutes."
"Your S?o Paulo client must be very demanding."
“She is incredibly demanding, it seems.” Helena pulled her underwear back up, smoothed her skirt down, and stood. She knew she was glowing. "How do I look?"
"Like a woman who’s just had an exceptional lunch."
Helena laughed and kissed Caitlin once more. “Until tonight?”
“Until tonight.” Caitlin was grinning, and Helena couldn’t help but copy her.
As she rode the elevator back down Helena was incandescent.
Every nerve was alive, the taste of Caitlin’s kiss still on her lips.
The woman who’d held the upper echelons of her firm rapt that morning had just spent twenty minutes, near naked on her knees, because, put simply, she’d wanted to give Helena pleasure.
That… the sheer, uncomplicated desire, was the most arousing thing that Helena had ever experienced.