The Perfect Dom - Shannon West Page 0,1
checking my order for all you know?”
“Um.” I looked up at the ceiling, hoping for inspiration, but not finding any. “Yeah, I guess so.”
He glanced up sharply at me. “Yes, not ‘yeah,’ Jordy. It’s gauche. I despise laziness in diction and in the workplace.” Since I was already firmly in his gauche pile, as he reminded me of my poor word choice almost every time I saw him, the insult didn’t have its usual sting.
“Oh, okay. I mean, sorry.”
“What is this call in reference to, Jordy?”
“I, um, really don’t know. Maybe you could call and find out?”
His face turned an interesting color then, and he proceeded to tell me what he thought of my messaging skills in a quiet but deadly voice, not stopping until my face felt like the first layer of skin had been blistered off. I slunk out of his office like a whipped dog and plopped down at my desk, my ears still ringing. Perhaps I really was long past due for a change in my life. Maybe a new career or even a new town. I was still mumbling to myself when Tori spoke up from beside me.
“Or you could dye your hair, change your name and join the Foreign Legion.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You were speaking out loud, Jordy, about your need for a new career. Or didn't you realize?”
“Oh,” I sighed. “No, not really.”
Tori was my best friend and confidant at work. She also had a fabulous, slightly scandalous social life that she regaled me with often. I had been living vicariously through her adventures for a while now, and she rarely let me down. She came over and perched one voluptuous hip on the edge of my desk. She did this frequently during slow times or breaks, her tight skirt hiked up above her knee as she swung her high heel shoe on the toe of her foot in a way that defied gravity. It was all mostly lost on me, of course, because I knew I was gay pretty much right out of the womb, but even I had to admit the view wasn’t bad.
Tori frowned down at me. “Don't get all depressed like you do.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“Yes, you do. You know how you act when one of the bosses yells at you. Like your best friend died on your birthday. You need to work on building up your confidence. You mope around here for days after someone yells at you with a face like one of those sad clown paintings.”
“I beg your pardon.”
She just shook her head and kept swinging her foot. Tori had tons of the confidence I lacked. She had confided in me months before that she was a Domme at a local BDSM club downtown. When she’d first told me, I admit to being a little shocked.
A blonde, blue-eyed cheerleader type, she looked so sweet that it was hard to imagine her wearing black leather high-heeled boots like Catwoman as she wielded a whip, or whatever it was she might wield. At least, that was my idea of how a Domme would look. But I could actually see the natural dominance in everything she did and said. She had such a strong, take-no-prisoners personality, it wasn’t really much of a stretch to think of her in that role. I was absolutely fascinated by her.
The truth was that I was secretly intrigued by the whole idea of Doms and subs. Nothing hard core, you understand. But I had watched some porn on the internet involving BDSM, a little shocked by how much it had turned me on. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since, and it figured prominently in my fantasies. Once I found out about Tori, I’d looked for more information—and there was quite a lot to be found on-line. She had actually steered me to what she thought might be reliable porn sites that featured Doms and subs, and I gradually got more and more excited about the idea of a relationship where I held all the power for a change.
I wanted to break out of my mold, change my life and do exciting things on the weekends like Tori did. I wanted to be a sexy Dom—but not just any Dom. I wanted to be the perfect Dom, with the perfect sub. It was just that so far I hadn’t been ready to take the necessary steps to get me there. I was definitely working on it though.