Ainsley #2
He’s slouched back in his chair, relaxed as ever, speaking about the kinkiest shit like we’re talking about the weather, whereas I’m leaning over the table toward him, my body wound tight as a spring, practically vibrating with the tension.
Our hands are still connected by the barest brush of fingertips and it feels more intimate than it should due to the subject matter.
“It sounds like you’re very familiar with this. Have you…had a lot of partners?” I can’t bring myself to say subs. Everything about this feels weird. I don’t even want to know this much, but it feels necessary. His experience is important.
“I’ve had many casual play partners for individual sessions when I wanted to release tension, but I’ve never had a true ongoing Dom/sub dynamic.
It’s always been too much work to maintain and foster the kind of partnership I’d want with the level of”—he pauses for a moment and levels me with a dark-eyed gaze before continuing—“care…I’d want to provide. ”
“And your version of care includes spankings and…ball gags?” My voice trembles on the last words, thinking of losing my ability to say something harsh that would keep him out of my head.
“You’re really interested in spankings, aren’t you?
" He looks at me curiously before he continues. "We’d negotiate all that for a play session. Your limits, your comfort level, your curiosity would be discussed, and safe words established. Kink is all about safe, sane, consensual play. Nothing would happen without ensuring your safety, frame of mind, and consent at every step. Submission is given, never taken.”
He’s drawing small circles along my palm as he speaks, making goosebumps climb my arm. He didn’t speak hypothetically. He spoke about me like this is an inevitability that’s bound to happen.
Our food arrives and stops the kinky conversation but allows me the chance to finally ask about him. I need to put my reporter skills to use and I want to know more about the nerdy side of him he showed me at the café.
“How is it you’re head of marketing and PR when you’re obviously a tech genius? Shouldn’t you be lording it over the nerds in the IT department or hold the CTO or CIO title instead of COO?”
He looks at me over his wine glass before answering. “I do what Olympus needs. We have more pressing marketing and PR concerns than ongoing technology issues. I’m able to oversee both segments of the company through operations, so that’s where I’m needed and put the majority of my energy.”
“What about situations like the data breach this past winter? Would it have changed anything had you been focused on the technology side of the business, or would that still have occurred?” I press, looking for answers to something no one has been able to pull from the tight-lipped company.
Payton’s face darkens, eyes cast down toward his plate with a stormy expression.
He leans back in his chair, the movement causing his fingers to finally leave my skin.
I close my hand around empty air, immediately regretting that I’ve caused him to pull away and leave me without his touch after he’s been so generous with it.
“There’s no way to know for sure. I built the technology and platform our company runs on.
I thought it was bulletproof. I’d run countless penetration tests, gone through every conceivable possibility of attack and still the hacker was able to get in and steal proprietary information.
I don't know whether that says more about the flaws of my system or their skills.”
“What’s Olympus doing with the real estate developments you’re working on?
You’ve bought up blocks of downtown Atlanta and are in talks with the city, but you haven’t announced what the project is.
Can I have the exclusive?” My cheeks heat again but for a completely different reason than before.
I’m asking for something that benefits my career and is a bit of a stretch, ethically, due to the complicated nature of our current situation.
Payton smiles and steeples his fingers in front of his face, tapping them softly against his chin.
“Look at you, using our relationship to your advantage. I thought you were against mixing business with pleasure.” The way he says pleasure is obscene.
I know he intended it that way by the sly smile he offers.
“Of course you can have it, Princess.” He picks up my hand and brings it to his lips.
“But you have to shop the story around instead of printing it in the Gazette. That paper’s too small for an exclusive like this.
At least sell it to a larger Atlanta newspaper with more credibility. ”
“I can do that, but my editor’s going to be pissed.”
“Your editor can eat shit. Your paper isn’t a hard-hitting news organization known for breaking stories about multibillion-dollar conglomerates entering into million-dollar deals with the city to build an entertainment complex and bring a professional sports team to the city.
That’s the kind of story that’s better suited to another paper and he can’t deny it.
If you want to write up a smaller piece that covers the basics that the Gazette would actually run, he should be grateful you’re willing to do that. ”
“You’re bringing in a sports team? What kind?
Don’t we have everything already? And an entertainment complex?
We have the Georgia Dome, the ballpark outside the city, and the arena where the basketball team plays.
What else could we need?” I’m confused. I know this is huge, but my mind is working to figure the details out.
I don't follow any professional sports, so this is beyond my comprehension.
Payton looks around us, ensuring there aren’t any listening ears too close before he returns his attention to me, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“We’re buying an NHL franchise and bringing professional hockey back to Atlanta.
The last time we had a team was over a decade ago.
Since then, the sport has exploded in popularity.
We got into real estate to buy the land and build the complex and entertainment around it.
It should be profitable in the long term, but it’s a huge initial investment, which is why the city’s behind the project because we’re willing to take on the financial responsibility. ”
“That’s absolutely crazy. Do you know anything about owning a hockey team, or building a sports complex?” I ask. My mind is spinning through the logistics and what it must take to put together this monster of a project. I’m also filing away everything he says for a story.
“We have a team of experts for every part of this project and we’re already interviewing for a general manager and coaches now.
We’ll be hands-off with the actual hockey part since we don’t know anything about it.
We’ve learned how to initiate projects, organize what’s necessary, and compile the right teams to run them as needed.
It’s called delegating.” He smirks at me and I scowl.
“You’re such a smartass. So hockey and real estate development. I never would’ve guessed this is the direction Olympus International would be headed in after engines and private jets, hotels, shipping, investments, and mining.”
“We diversify our assets and ensure we’re always ahead of the curve.”
Payton tells me more about the development plans while we eat and I’m already planning out the story I’ll write.
It has me fully engaged and hanging onto his every word, which keeps him talking.
Before I know it, the check’s been paid and he’s holding his hand out to me, signaling that our dinner date is over.
Unexpected disappointment floats through me, despite initially wanting to keep this a short outing.
“This wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” I begrudgingly offer as he opens the door of his Range Rover for me. He waits for me to slide in and hands me my seat belt. He laughs and leans on the doorframe, studying me.
“I’m not as bad as you think, Ainsley. You just want to hate me for all the wrong reasons.”