Page 68 of XX Love Affair
“Wish you were here with me.”
It was the most romantic thing she had ever said to her girlfriend.
Chapter 21
They ate dinner at the tapas place Helena had gravitated toward when she first came to town. With Delia at her side, it had become their default “I don’t know what to eat” spot since the menu covered both of their favorites and the drinks were above average. Parking was atrocious, but Helena didn’t have to worry about that. Delia did, and she often opted to pay way too much for the valet parking across the street.
All Helena knew was that Delia had a “special surprise” up her sleeve. It was too late for a private tour of the latest museum exhibit. Nor was it the opera or whatever Broadway show had come to the central downtown theater. One of the only things Delia and Helena had yet to do was cruise down the river on a yacht, but she had a feeling that wasn’t it, either.
Was she curious? Naturally. Did she want the surprise spoiled? Absolutely not.
So she kept her thoughts on the present while they ate dinner and forewent dessert. She didn’t ask questions as they got in the Mercedes after the valet delivered the keys back to Delia. Nor did Helena ask where they were going as they drove in a different direction than usual.
A set of gates soon came into view.
“Fun fact,” Delia said as she punched the code into the lock, the gates creaking open, “I used to own this place. The code has not changed. She should probably fix that.”
Helena didn’t ask who “she” was. Instead, she allowed the last rays of a June evening to cast light onto the hedges lining the driveway. Reminds me of the mansion in San Bernardino. This manor house was smaller than what Irene and Josh owned in Southern California, but it had something neither Irene nor her husband had: stately class and elegance. It spoke of an old-as-hell family that had been around longer than the United States had been a country.
The only car parked in the front driveway was an everyday Audi. Helena spent more time staring at it than she did the old manor built on what had once been the fringe of the city, long before the metro gobbled up the smaller towns within it.
“Have I told you that you’re smoking tonight?” Delia’s hand brushed against Helena’s ass as they walked up the front steps. “You should wear shorter skirts more often.”
Helena didn’t know what that had to do with anything. Her baggy blouse and floral tea skirt were the same kind of outfit she wore unless Delia required something more formal for their nights out. She hadn’t told Helena how to dress tonight. Sort of a shame. I have a brand-new cocktail dress that needs breaking in. At least she had an excuse to wear her new sandals that she had scored on sale at a vintage thrift shop. The same one Blair and Tara had introduced her to when they went shopping one day.
One of those women answered the door.
“You’re a few minutes early,” Blair said to Delia as if Helena weren’t there. Yet that wasn’t what interested Helena. Have I seen her wear this before? Blair didn’t often go to places, even the club, wearing nothing but her lingerie and a sheer kimono. The only time Helena saw something similar was that night in New York when they both went after their respective beads.
There were no beads now. Helena quickly figured out that this was Blair’s home, the one she shared with her Mistress, Mira.
Whitfield Manor. That was the name of this place, and Helena was now well-acquainted with the recent story that involved both Mira and Delia.
They didn’t have coats on that warm night. Blair led them straight to the downstairs den, where an electric fireplace was more style than substance. Yet there was Mira, dressed in fetish wear aside from her hair, which was wrapped in a towel as if she had stepped out of the shower and was letting it naturally dry. She wore no makeup.
Helena soon noted the business laptop on the coffee table and a notebook scribbled with all sorts of naughty ideas.
“Benoist,” Mira greeted when she stood up from her couch. “So glad you could make it with plenty of time for us to go over everything before tonight’s show.”
Helena sat down before Delia. Blair exited the room, announcing she’d bring them some cucumber water. Mira remained the vision of professionalism, her manners immaculate and her vulnerable state allowing Helena to feel more comfortable in a dominatrix’s home. Delia had once mentioned that her old friend kept her dungeon in an office in the industrial district but had since moved it into her home. “More room. Keeps costs down, too,” Delia had explained, and Helena instantly understood.
Oh, she understood a lot of things now.
“Has Delia told you why she brought you here tonight?” Mira asked her newest guest.
Helena glanced at her girlfriend. “No. She said it was a surprise.”
“I think you’re going to like it,” Delia said.
I don’t doubt it. But what could it possibly be? They had been checking things off Helena’s bucket list here and there, but nothing crazy had happened lately. Just the usual craziness. If Delia couldn’t quip the next day that it was a miracle Helena walked without a limp, then the night before had been a bust. I don’t necessarily disagree.
“You know what I do, right?” Mira’s attempt to eschew condescension was not lost on Helena, but it still came out gruff. Then again, Mira was a gruff Domme who made her money from being a bossy bitch who knew what was good for her partner. Lucky Blair, indeed. That wasn’t Helena’s ongoing jam, but she wasn’t opposed to some fun like that…
Wait a second…
“I know you’re a streamer,” Helena nonchalantly said. “I’m guessing you’re in a top percentage of FansOnly streamers.”
“I get by. Being successful on the circuit and making smart investments means I don’t have to rely on it as much as I used to, but it’s fun. I like keeping my clients happy. So does Blair. She’s not the best at showing it, but she’s got a hang for the whole exhibitionism thing.”