Myka and the Millionaire Page 17

  “Were you flirting?”

  “Of course I was flirting!” Lourdes started sobbing again. “I fell in love with him! And yes, okay, I was acting sexy. And it’s not like I didn’t want to, you know? I did. I just didn’t want a hollow affair. I wanted something more. And I thought he loved me too.”

  Myka felt sick. For such a long time, she had been complaining and crying to Lourdes about her situation, about how Gabriel said they were only about sex, and had never even bothered to find out what was going on in her friend’s life. She assumed that Lourdes was a stable, unflappable rock, like always.

  “Lourdes, he’s an ass,” she proclaimed, hugging her friend. “And he doesn’t deserve you.”

  Lourdes buried her head in Myka’s shoulder, wetting the fabric with her tears. “He’s not an ass. He’s smart and funny, you know? He speaks six languages. He’s a great kisser. He recited poetry to me in Italian, and took me for rides to a vineyard on a motorbike. We danced in the moonlight to a string quartet. He bought me an antique emerald ring in a little shop in Cortona, and we—we cooked together. The freshest tomatoes and olive oil in the world. We told each other secrets and he said my eyebrows were delicate butterflies on my forehead. I—I love him, Myka.” She gasped and clung.

  “So I don’t understand what went wrong?” Myka asked, patting her friend’s shoulder.

  “He kept wanting to make love to me, and God, I wanted it too. But I made a promise to myself after I broke up with my fiancé last year. I was going to wait for someone who loved me as much as I loved him. And when I told that to Ethan, he—he freaked out. He said those things. And the next day at our group meeting, he made the announcement about funding and told me I was heading back to L.A.” She gulped. “And I feel so stupid and embarrassed and horrible. And then at the same time, you’re turning into Kink Expert Sex-A-Lot, and I feel lost and lonely.”

  “Oh, Lourdes, I’m sorry.” Myka had tears in her own eyes. “I promise, I am here for you, and I love you, and I will never look down on you for your personal life, okay? Just because I’m trying BDSM? It won’t change me fundamentally, or make me into a new person. We’re still us, still friends, still Myka and Lourdes. I swear. I’ll be a better friend. I will.”

  “Okay.” Lourdes sighed. “I was afraid you’d think I was a baby and only want to hang out with your new, sexy cooler friends.”

  “They’re not cooler, they’re just different,” Myka corrected. “And no, I don’t think you’re a baby. It’s the opposite. I think you’re brave. Not many women have the courage to know what they want and then stand up for it. I admire you.”

  “Really?” Lourdes’ voice was hopeful.

  “Of course.”

  Lourdes had stopped crying. “I’m glad. And I hope, I hope that you will stand up for what you want, too.”

  * * *

  After that day, Myka was careful to spend more time with Lourdes, although she no longer pushed to have her worlds meet. She was delving further into the world of kink, but she was careful to spare Lourdes the intimate details, and she tried to help convince Lourdes that it was okay to want what she wanted, that it didn’t mean there was something fundamentally weird about it.

  Most of her time with Gabriel was spent at his home, playing kinky games and having intense sex. There were a few times when she accompanied Gabriel to the club, dressed in something revealing, never expected to do more than be by his side, and talk to people as she pleased.

  One Friday night, after making her by-now-usual excuses to a dissatisfied Kylee, she dressed in a provocative dress and high heels, because Gabriel wanted her to watch something special at the club. Jessie was there with Brett; by now, Myka was used to seeing her friend naked and it didn’t even bother her to give Jessie a hug and quick cheek kiss.

  Jessie bounced on her toes. “Myka! We have a rope bondage expert tonight who will demonstrate how to tie someone up with cool Shibari patterns. I asked Brett to start learning so we can do it. Look.” She pointed across the room to a handsome shirtless man. Next to him, a slender olive-skinned brunette in a skimpy leotard unwound rope, leaning in to whisper into his hear.

  “Shibari?”

  “It’s a Japanese form of bondage, focused on the aesthetics of beautiful knots, like origami with ropes and bodies. It’s about patience and skill and art, and it can be so sexy. I’m totally going to volunteer if he asks for someone from the audience.”

  Gabriel laughed. “Master Martin is only working with his partner Belline tonight, Jessie. Sorry. But they offer lessons.” He turned to Myka. “I’d like to tie you sometime, with soft rope, and tease you.” His eyes were sensuous, daring.

  She caught her breath. “I might like that.”

  The demonstration was breathtaking. Belline knelt with her head down, her chest moving in and out as she breathed, her eyes closed, her lips parted. Her arms were behind her, crossed one over the other. Myka was spellbound as she watched Martin wrap the soft black rope around Belline’s nearly nude body, winding it in and out, over and under, knotting and pulling, without hesitation, without a mistake.

  “This tie is called Hon Kikkou, or the Tortoiseshell,” Martin explained to the viewers. Intricate patterns of rope around Belline’s breasts forced them to jut out. The rope looped and folded over itself across her body, between her legs, around her breasts and back in intricate geometric patterns. “Belline,” he commanded, “tell me, how does it feel?”

  “It feels good, master,” came her soft voice. “I feel safe, and pleased to display myself for you.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “No, master.” Her eyes were still closed but Belline smiled, a small piece of joy on her lips.

  Jessie whispered to Myka, “Oh, God. So hot.”

  Myka nodded; it was, but she appreciated it more on a purely aesthetic level. Although the bondage was artistic, she didn’t feel turned on. She decided to tell Gabriel that she wasn’t all that interested in Shibari, although she’d let him tie her up once or twice if he wanted to try it.

  “Belline is my most patient model,” intoned Master Martin, and Belline beamed. But her smile dimmed when Martin added, “And I’m excited to have her mentor the newest member of our poly family, Darianna. Dari is so extremely lithe and lovely, perfect for demonstrating the hanging patterns that Belline can’t handle. I can’t wait to show you all in a few months once we’ve worked together longer. She’s going to take the rope world by storm!”

  He paused. “Belline, please relax your shoulders. I can’t do the tie properly if you’re tensed up.”

  “I’m sorry, master,” came her soft voice. “I will do better.”

  “See that you do.” His voice was distracted as he did a small wave and nod to a leggy redhead at the back of the room, who blushed and smiled back, her eyes bright. Myka peered over: Was that the lithe and lovely Darianna? She didn’t understand poly relationships. It was hard enough for her to manage the complex emotions that came from being intimate with one person. She supposed it could work if everyone was a super-not-jealous self-confident type of person, but it would never succeed for her.

  After the demo concluded, viewers thronged around Martin, asking questions, accepting business cards. Myka headed to the bathroom and was surprised to find Belline there, wiping at the side of her eye. “Great job, you looked beautiful,” she offered the model, not sure what to say.

  Belline’s face lit up. “Thank you. I love demonstrating with my master,” she replied, applying lipstick in the mirror. “It’s a joy for both of us.”

  Myka acted like hearing a woman call her man her master was no big deal. “I’m not sure I want Gabe to try that on me, but it was pretty to watch,” she said, deciding to reapply her own lipstick. “I can’t wait to see the ties that your master does on the, on his, Darianna? That sounds so phenomenal. Like Cirque du Soleil but sexier! He’s so talented.” She thought it was good compliment for a poly family and would also show how impressed she was with the rope demo.


  Belline’s head jerked. “Oh, for sure. I can’t wait. And I know he can’t.” Her voice lacked expression but her hand shook as she tried once, twice, and finally got the lipstick back into her clutch. Then she added, “So you’re Gabriel’s new little sub?” Her eyebrow raised and she looked Myka up and down, her expression cool. She took the lipstick back out of her purse and added a little bit to the far right side of her mouth.

  “I’m his—” Myka started to correct, unsure about why Belline was giving her the freeze. The feminist part of her rebelled at using the word ‘sub’ to describe her relationship to any man, because she wasn’t his anything unless he was hers too. And even if she was submissive in bed, that in no way captured the complex mix of their relationship, and didn’t come close to representing how strong and powerful she was, even as she let him control her in the bedroom. Maybe it was semantics, but she wished she could say ‘partner’ or ‘boyfriend.’ But they weren’t that. She finally decided on, “Yes. I am his sub.”

  Belline blinked and touched lashes on her right eye. “Then you know about Rachel.” She snapped her lipstick shut again and put it into the tiny silver purse.

  “Of course.” Myka tried to sound dismissive, even though she knew next to nothing about the mysterious Rachel, and that still ticked her off.

  Belline smiled. “Of course.” She took out an eyeliner and started applying it. “I think it’s so sweet that they’re still in touch. She’s a friend of mine.” She looked sidelong at Myka.

  Myka’s brain reeled. “Sweet. Yes.”

  Belline started doing something with powder along her brow line. “He was so crazy in love with her, they had the most powerful bond I’ve ever seen. I’m still broken-hearted that they didn’t work out. But like I said, still friends!” She gave Myka a bright smile. “Of course, when you have such an amazing relationship, there’s no way it can fade even if you’re apart for a time, and sometimes you realize it’s time to recapture the magic. True love lasts, no matter how many other women come into the picture.” Her voice was emphatic, almost fierce, and she stabbed at her forehead with the applicator, leaving a pile of dust that she wiped with a tissue. Her voice lightened as she added, “How long have you been playing around with him? Just a little bit, right?”

  Myka’s eyes widened, and Belline gushed, “Nice talking. See you later.” She put her makeup away, waved her fingers, and scurried out.

  Feeling sick, Myka hurried to Jessie and grabbed her friend’s arm. “Jessie. I need some info,” she hissed, pulling her friend into an ante-room. “Listen. What is the deal with that Belline? She came into the bathroom, and she—she verbally bitch-slapped me! She said that Gabriel still talks to Rachel, and acted like she wants them to get back together. Do you know anything about that?”

  Jessie sucked in her breath. “Oh, Myka. I thought they were through. I mean, they are through! I didn’t realize they talked. But it’s not a big deal. A lot of people talk to their exes, right? You’re with him now, so you need to stop worrying about Rachel.”

  “I wish I could.” Myka wiped at her eye. “It seems that everyone has so many things to say about how fucking perfect Rachel was. It’s making me—aaarrrgh.”

  “Well, have you talked about her to Gabriel?”

  “No, and he doesn’t want to. Every time I bring it up, he gets annoyed and changes the subject. So I pretend like I don’t care. But I really do.”

  “Myka! You need to be honest with him.” Jessie tugged Myka’s hand. “I mean, how can you guys ever get serious if you have unsaid things hanging between you?”

  Myka didn’t know. The biggest unsaid thing between them was probably not even Rachel, but instead, Myka’s own feelings for Gabriel. Every day, every minute they spent together, she felt more and more connected with him, more addicted. “I can’t talk to him about it, Jessie. It upsets him, and I don’t want to do that.”

  Jessie frowned. “Honesty is so critical, especially when you incorporate BDSM and kink. You need to have full trust between you for this to succeed.”

  “I know that.” Myka sighed. “And we do talk, a lot. About sex, about dominance, about what we like… just not about her. Don’t say anything to Brett or anyone about what I said, about my worries. Do you promise?”

  “Yes. But still, I think you need to talk to him.”

  Myka didn’t. She pushed the words back down, because she was too afraid to dredge up what might be lurking in his self-conscious mind; instead, she decided to redouble her efforts to be seductive, sexy, and wholly absorbing.

  She was starting to love Gabriel, she was sure of it, and maybe—sometimes, it seemed like he felt the same way. The look in his eyes, possessive and wild and passionate, all at once—that surely meant more than just sub, part-time sex buddy. It had to. But she needed to move with caution, to fan the flame without blowing it out.

  * * *

  Later that week, alone in her hotel, Myka glanced around, as if someone could be watching, then typed Rachel O’Reilly into Google, her heart pounding. Gabriel still refused to answer basic questions about her, and she was dying to know something, anything, about Rachel.

  The screen flooded; it was a popular name, so on a whim she typed Rachel O’Reilly sex sub bionic butt, and to her surprise and shock, an article popped up, something from last year on a popular sex blog called Kinkerrific Times:

  Guest Blogger Rachel O’Reilly aka “Bionic Butt” discusses BDSM and the hazards of topping from the bottom.

  She read the article eagerly, poring over the screen. Rachel wrote well, albeit about things with which Myka did not agree:

  Topping from the bottom is one of the worst things a submissive can do to ruin a relationship with her dominant. Don’t know what this is? Topping from the bottom is when the person on the bottom (or receiving end) of an activity is actually the one in control of the activity, calling the shots, being the person who determines how long, how hard, how frequent.

  If this is you? Check yourself, because this is a huge no-no! You could be on the path to ruining your relationship and turning your dominant away from you.

  She kept reading.

  Here are five easy ways to recognize if you are succumbing to the lure of topping from the bottom.

  1) Do you ever say ‘no’ to your dominant? Remember, as a submissive, his pleasure and his word should be your utmost priority. You should say ‘no’ only when it’s a dire situation, not just because you don’t like a toy or a situation or because something hurts. Saying ‘no’ too often destroys the power balance you’ve worked so hard to build. Your needs are unimportant compared to his—remember this!

  So you don’t want anal because you have a long day of sitting tomorrow at work? If he wants anal, you have no right to say no; besides, he knows your schedule, and if he wants your rectum to hurt tomorrow during your big presentation to your boss, then you need to accept it. You don’t want to give a blowjob because you’re tired or got bad news from your family? You need to put your needs aside and cater to his. He is the important one in the dynamic.

  As a true submissive, you will only derive genuine pleasure and satisfaction from pleasing him, and that in turn will help you feel better about your own difficult life situations. Remember that he gets to call the shots on how you behave and act at all times.

  Myka cursed out loud. “Fuck, seriously?” Not only was she angry at Rachel for writing it, she was even angrier at the website for publishing it. The article was a mix of valid insight and dangerous drivel, a mixture that could confuse newcomers to the world of domination and submission.

  Unable to read more, she scrolled down and found a picture of Rachel, dressed in a skin-tight black dress and heels, her hair up, bold red lipstick, an enigmatic smile on her lovely face.

  Myka shook her head, and her hand trembled on her mouse. She wanted to talk to Lourdes, but this wasn’t a ‘safe for discussion’ topic with her bestie, so she grabbed her phone and dialed Jessie, relieved when her friend answered.<
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  “Jessie. Did you know—I read an article that Rachel wrote about being a perfect sub. It was such shit. Did you know she wrote stuff online? Have you read it?” Her voice was shaky.

  “What?” Myka heard a clattering noise that receded, then Jessie was back. “Rachel? Oh, yeah, she used to send out links to her guest blogs on Facebook. I read a few.”

  “Did you agree with them?” Myka’s voice was strident. “I mean, she says here, and I quote: “You should never question the decisions of your dominant. For example, if you want to go out to celebrate your best friend’s birthday, but he decides you should stay home and serve as his footstool and whipping toy while he watches the football game on TV, you need to swallow your wants and focus on satisfying his, because making him happy is the cornerstone of your job and your joy as a submissive.”

  Jessie laughed. “That’s pretty over the top. I never read that one. She was—she was exuberant, I’ll say that. She always said that she took her sub role seriously.”

  “So seriously that she left Gabriel?” Myka’s voice was harsh. “Because even she, the perfect sub, couldn’t take what he wanted to dish out?” She felt her voice crack.

  “Myka. You sound strange. Are you okay?”

  “No. Reading this makes me sick and angry. And it makes me question, if this is what she was all about, why Gabriel is even with me.”

  “They broke up, Myka, so clearly she wasn’t right for him. And she wasn’t really like that article. I think a lot of it was for show. I think she always did exactly whatever the hell she wanted.”

  Finally. Myka was relieved to find a crack in Rachel’s so-called perfection. “How?”

  “So she wrote about staying home and watching the game, never saying no. But she was at the club when she wanted to be there. She met up for happy hours whenever she pleased. You know, now that I think about it more? She enjoyed being provocative. She loved attention. And I never got the impression that she was waiting hand and foot on Gabriel like some meek servant. And God, you know him better than that. He’s not that kind of guy.”