Gertrude chooses that moment to walk away. Champagne Girl politely moves off to the side and pretends to be disinterested in our conversation. Thank God Eva didn’t mention Ian by name, because these girls are notoriously chatty with each other.

“Hm. You didn’t admonish me and say that he’s not your boyfriend. I see how it is. When’s the wedding? I want to know if I can wear this dress twice.” She winces. “And make sure I get to be your maid of honor. I lost that to Jasmine fucking Bliss this time. Did you know that she and Monica are bosom buddies? What a wild world.”

I’m barely listening. She lost me at the wedding talk. “We’re not getting married. Not tomorrow, not in a year, probably not in a decade.” Even if Ian and I somehow became engaged, I doubt I would go through with a marriage anytime soon. Too much to deal with, both realistically and emotionally.

“Come on. Humor me. You have hardly said a thing about you and this guy since we last talked about his cock and what it does to you. What’s new?”

I keep my lips shut. I still haven’t told Eva about submitting. Of course, if any Domme were to go easy on me for it, it would be her, my best friend. Hilariously enough, the raging lesbian is the last one I have to worry about turning on me professionally and socially. She may not get it, but I don’t think she’d treat me much differently. Still, I haven’t been able to bring myself to say anything to her.

Because at the end of the day, I’m still embarrassed by it.

And now Ian wants me to be a 24/7 submissive for a few days. For some stupid reason I agreed to do it. Don’t ask me why! I suppose I’m curious. He says it will be the last of my training before… before what? Before I’m capable of being his submissive at a moment’s notice? That I could submit to another man if I wanted to? I have no idea what it means. Not sure I want to know right now.

I don’t even want to know what he has planned from me. I know one thing I’m demanding of him, and that’s a couple of hours a day when I can take off the collar and be my own woman. Not his sex toy, like I was the other night.

As hot as it was.

It’s hard for me to think about this, because I’m hanging out with my Domme friend and trying to have a good time at a boutique. So I ignore Eva’s prying about my sex life with Ian and tell Champagne Girl that I would like to ring up the black and blue dresses. I hand her my credit card and continue to admire myself in the mirror. I have a tailor who can make the minor alterations necessary to have this dress really pop.

She returns not even five minutes later. “Ms. Alison,” she begins sheepishly. “I can’t charge this card.”

“What?” My veins thicken as I take the card and wonder who the fuck I call about this. Eva sits up in her seat and watches with intrigue. “It didn’t go through?”

“Oh, I didn’t run it.” Poor Champagne Girl looks like I’m about to smack her on the head. I don’t doubt that some clients do that in here. “It’s just there have been very specific instructions left regarding any purchases made by you.”

“What?” I haven’t been here in at least four months! The last time I came here everything went smoothly. What the fuck is going on? “You’re shitting me, right?”

Girl is cowering now. No. No she is not shitting me. As I imagine the fucking worst, she says, “Someone has offered to cover all purchases you make here.”

I lower my scolding finger. “Excuse me?”

“The note says that a separate card is to be charged anytime you want to purchase something from our boutique. I’m sorry if I frightened you, Ms. Alison.”

I…

Who the fuck is buying clothes for me?

No.

Oh no.

I know who it is.

“This very generous benefactor’s name wouldn’t happen to be Ian Mathers, would it?” My hands are on my hips, and Eva is cackling behind me. “Because you can tell him to piss off for me. I will buy my own clothes.”

Champagne Girl doesn’t have to tell me. I know it’s Ian. He probably did this after I agreed to his upcoming submission game.

There are a lot of things I’m willing to play around with. Having him pay for my pretty dresses is not one of them.

Who does he think I am? One of his middle to lower class girlfriends he can “spoil” with treats from his money? I don’t think so! My father’s been spoiling me since I spilled out of my mother’s womb. Before that! Shit, I remember him telling me that my mom would take “in utero” French lessons. Meaning she paid for a French tutor to read stories to me in the womb. I would like to point out that I don’t know French, so that was a waste of money.

I know I was whining about having to pay Stephanie May 50k a month, but I’m not that hard up for money. I can drop a couple grand on these dresses and barely see it nudge my bank account. What I will see, however, is the way Ian looks at me when I show up in a dress he bought for me, and not as a present.

As a favor. A courtesy.

Fuuuuck him.

“I don’t care what Mr. Mathers says. I will be buying my own dresses, thank you.” I shove my credit card back into Champagne Girl’s hands. “Although…” On the couch, Eva is still giggling, her dress bunched up around her waist and her straps slipping off her bony shoulders. “I’m sure Mr. Mathers would love to make his contribution to the Warrens’ wedding celebrations and pay for a lovely bridesmaid dress to be tailored and dyed.”

“Oh! Ian’s buying me something?”

I grin at my friend as Champagne Girl walks away, this time with the intent to run my credit card. “Seems like it. He’s not buying me anything…”

“Dearest Kathryn.” She’s awake now. So awake that her legs are crossing and she’s leaning forward, that glint of making trouble in her eye. “Why is someone like him trying to buy you clothes? Doesn’t he know you can afford your own well enough? You’re not Jasmine Bliss or, dare I say it and not get in trouble, Monica.”

I roll my eyes. Yes, those women don’t have anywhere near the amount of money I have, but last I heard Monica makes a hefty sum from her business and Jasmine has plenty of her own personal funds from her boyfriend. For them, however, part of the thrill is their men buying them niceties. Pretty sure women like Monica Graham, who are lifestyle submissives, get off on it.

I don’t get off on it.

“Hey, if the man wants to get me some clothes, far be it from me to tell him otherwise,” Eva says with a wink. “I don’t have nearly the same amount of money as you do anyway.”

“One day you will. Finish grad school first.” Don’t get us wrong. Eva’s loaded. Millionaire loaded, though, not billionaire. I know. It’s a tragedy. Girl doesn’t have a real job yet, though, so there’s that.

“Feh. Grad school.”

“I know. I remember.”

After changing back into my day clothes, I leave Eva to deal with the woman who will dye her dress. This is after making sure my card was charged for my clothing. I hope Ian enjoys knowing that he bought Evangeline Warren a sexy bridesmaid dress. He’ll probably give me an earful.

I rather hope so.

Since I don’t live too far from the CBD, I decide to walk home as opposed to hailing a cab. One of these days I’ll get a car to roll around in. I’m not big on driving, though, and cars are boring. I’d rather be driven around, and that is definitely an alternative I can look into. But it’s bothersome finding a driver and a car. Anita could do most of the filtering for me, but at the end of the day I still need to make the time to interview and find a driver I trust. Plus dealing with paying them.

Yeah, rather walk or take a cab.

“Ms. Alison,” the doorman says outside my building. He always greets me if he notices me, but today he’s approaching me, making sure he has my attention. “A letter was left at the desk to be delivered personally to you.” He hands me an envelope marked only as, “I.”