Page 15 of The Submissive
She feared that Helen would push the issue… maybe ask whatshewanted to do to her.Humiliate me. Hurt me. Bruises weren’t supposed to be a part of the lifestyle.
Helen didn’t say anything. All she did was place her hand next to Monique’s on the table, where her fingers clenched a napkin and ignored the bread waiting to be consumed.
Monique did not accept the invitation to be touched. That was reserved for a woman she could trust – and as attracted as she was to Helen Warner, she didn’t know if she could trust her yet. For all Monique knew…
“I’m sorry I brought it up,” Helen said. “Whatever you went through, it must have been awful. Nobody likes that woman in the business world. We deal with her because we must.”
“We?”
The hand disappeared. “Why, yes. I won’t say I know her personally, but she does pop up in many of my spheres. I’ve only met her on a handful of occasions. I never guessed she was into that sort of lifestyle.”
“You mean domination and submission.”
“It seems to be the sort of life that easily turns dark. With the wrong person, that is.”
You have no idea.How could she, as a Domme? Even as a woman, they held all the power. That’s what Monique liked about the situation, but it didn’t save her from the evil that sometimes burst from it. She wanted a woman to control her in the bedroom, to tell her what to do sometimes, to make her life easier… but not to rule that life. That’s what Jacqueline ended up doing, and Monique paid for it.
The maid returned with their soup course. Neither of them picked up their spoons.I’m being a terrible hostess.Making it all about her past, failed relationships… “Enough about me, Ms. Warner. Tell me more about yourself.”
“I’m terribly boring. My job is boring, my hobbies are boring. My house is boring because I’m too busy to do anything with it.”
“What do you do?”
“Mergers. Acquisitions. Buy places. Sell them off. Keep the profits. A time-honored tradition my great-grandfather started a hundred years ago, and now here I am. I may have been bornwith a silver spoon in my mouth, but I intend to earn the right to keep it.”
“That’s noble.” Sounded like what Jacqueline and most people of old money did. Either that or they married rich before telling Monique that their fortunes were crumbling. Monique looked like a woman of means, but she would hardly say that she was. If she lost the Manoir, she would have next to nothing.All the money I make goes back into it.Not the best financial planning, but she wanted her business to succeed before worrying about her own future. “At least you keep yourself busy. I’ve known women who rest on their laurels and pretend everything is going to continue the way it always has. Life doesn’t work out that way. It’s good to be prepared and stay busy. What do you do for fun?”
“I told you, my hobbies are boring too.”
“I highly doubt that. There must be something.” Even reading could be an adventure. Assuming Helen had good tastes, of course.
“Reading is perhaps the only hobby I can regularly indulge in.”Ha! I knew it.Finally, Helen touched her soup, declared it delicious, but still too hot for her to completely eat at the moment. “I’m fluent in French, so I like to read the original works of authors like Proust. Oh, and the Marquis de Sade. I assume you’ve heard of him.”
Monique’s mouth twitched again. “I have. I’m afraid I don’t think much of him, though.” Of course, she knew the word “sadistic” came from that man. She also knew why. Many dominants heralded him as some sort of father of their sexualities, which perturbed Monique since the Marquis was infamous for coercing his servants. Jacqueline admired him way too much. Monique hoped Helen wasn’t the same way.
“His works are fascinating, but perhaps for all the wrong reasons.” That was all Helen said on the matter, and Monique did not press her further.
Throughout dinner, Monique learned a few more things about her. Helen’s parents were alive, but they lived in their favorite vacation home in Wyoming, where her father had a ranch and her mother made jewelry for a “living,” not that she needed to. Helen currently lived in their main house with her younger sister, who was in grad school for her MBA. They almost sounded like a normal upper-middle-class family until Monique remembered that Helen Warner was probably one of the richest women in the country. She could do anything with her life… so why was she spending it here?
“I also like to paint here and there,” she said at the beginning of their final course. “Nothing in particular. Just whatever moves me.” Helen pointed to the sunset, now sinking fast behind the trees. “Like that. I would like to paint that if I had the chance. The way the light passes through the branches of those evergreens and illuminates the labyrinth is simply breathtaking.” She glanced at Monique. “Looks nice on you as well.”
Flattery would get her nowhere. “Thank you.” Monique took the compliment anyway.
“So, what do you do for fun?” Helen was on her second glass of wine. Monique was still on her first, but she could see the bottom of her glass. “I have a hard time believing you do this for fun all the time.” She motioned to the Manoir.
“Believe what you will or won’t. My work is my life now.”
“No movies? No books?”
“I read occasionally, but I’ve found recently that most of the stories I used to enjoy only frustrate me.” They reminded her of her old relationship. Monique devoured books – dark and comedic – about dominants and their unwitting women. She particularly enjoyed the recent trend of billionaires and mafia bosses and…Nope. Too much like real life. Few women could say that!
“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope you can enjoy them again soon.”
Helen’s voice wasn’t empty, nor was it full of sarcasm. When they made eye contact, Monique saw nothing but warmth in her eyes.It’s a ruse. A game.That’s what she had to tell herself to survive. No woman actually cared that she enjoyed “A Billionaire Love Story” ever again.Because they’re not real.She thought she had that kind of love once. Perhaps she was too jaded by the heartbreak.
“If I may ask…” Helen fingered the stem of her glass, leaning back in her chair with one leg over the other and her eyes downcast. “What happened between you and Jacqueline Love? You were legends in my circles.”
What a strange thing to say. “Bad things.”