The Art of Submission (49 page)

Then Cassie abruptly sits up on the edge of
the bed and glares at me. “The blonde - she’s not your type. She’ll
never make you happy. Not the way I can.”

I just stand staring at Cassie not even
knowing what the hell to say.
Not my
type?
Those are the exact words Isa used on the phone
last night. Then I remember her remark about hearing it
twice
in one day being too
much.

“Did you say something to Isa yesterday?” I
ask, practically yelling.

“I didn’t tell her anything that wasn’t
true.” She says, not backing down.

“What the fuck do you know about my
type and what makes me happy? We were together once, Cassie.
ONCE ,
a very long time ago. I made
the mistake of hiring you after that, but I’m not going to make the
mistake of keeping you employed. You’ve crossed the line by coming
here tonight and by saying something to Isa. Now get your ass out
of my room, back to Denver and start looking for another job.” With
that, I reach for my phone on the bed, call Raul and tell him to
bring himself and Sawyer to my room to escort Cassie back to the
airport and to immediately change all security codes at the
office.

Cassie looks stunned and remains motionless.
“But, Dylan… she’s trying to tame you. Can’t you see that?” She
says.

“
I’ll have your things from the office
sent to you.” I tell her just before Raul arrives with
Sawyer.

When Cassie is finally out of my room I
sit for several minutes trying to calm my nerves and my
anger.
What the hell? Trying to tame
me?
What the hell is that supposed to mean? I just
need to hear Isa’s voice, but I decide instead to follow Raul and
Sawyer to make sure Cassie is on her way.

After stopping to grab a bite to eat, I don’t
arrive back to my room until close to 8 p.m. I pick up my phone and
dial Isa’s number but I’m instantly sent to voicemail. What the
hell? I try again, thinking maybe she’s on the phone trying to call
me, but again, I can’t get through. I dig out some paperwork and go
over a few work issues and try two more times to call Isa over the
next hour, but still, I can’t get through. I’m seriously getting
pissed. Where the fuck is she? Maybe her phone is dead again.

Finally, close to 10 p.m., I get through to
her. She picks up on the third ring.

“Hello.” She states flatly and with no
emotion whatsoever.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

Silence.

“How was your
night?”
She says coldly.

Okay. Something is obviously wrong. This
isn’t the Isa I know.

“Why would anything be wrong?” She says
blandly.

What the fuck?

“Did you go over the contract, Mr. Young?”
She asks placidly.

What’s with the Mr. Young bullshit?

“That is your name isn’t it? Are you going to
answer my question? Did you go over the contract?”

“Seriously, Isa, what’s going on? Is this
because of this morning? Because I wouldn’t allow you to cum?” I
don’t know why the hell else she would be so upset.

Silence.

“This morning was just fine. When
you’re ready to agree to my revisions, call me back.” With that,
Isa hangs up.
Fucking hell.
This morning was ‘fine?’ That’s it?
‘Fine?’
I feel sick to my stomach at the thought
of Isa being angry with me. I don’t even know what the fuck I did
wrong.

I dial her right back and I swear to
everything holy if I get her mother fucking voicemail again, I’ll
lose it. To her credit, she has the common sense to answer her
phone.

“Are you ready to agree to my revisions?” She
says as soon as she answers.

“What the fuck, Isa?” I ask sternly.

“I can’t talk to you right now. I need
time to think things over about us,
if
there is an ‘us’ and I need to reconsider
whether or not I want to do this whole submissive thing with
you.”

What? Wait… “Isa…”

“Don’t call me
that
. In fact, don’t call me anything except stupid
and naïve, because that’s what I am. I can’t…. I can’t believe I
fell for you so fast.
I’m so
stupid
. I’ll just see you when you get back next week.
Goodbye.” She says choking back tears. Then she hangs
up.

She fell for me? I don’t even know what the
fuck just happened. Why does she think that she’s stupid and naïve?
Where the hell did all this just come from? She was fine this
morning. What’s happened since then? I look down at my phone trying
to replay the last few minutes, feeling nausea setting in.

She can’t just leave me hanging like
that. I don’t except this and there’s no way on God’s green earth
that I’m waiting until next week to talk to her. I call Sawyer and
my pilot and let them know I’ll be flying back to Denver
tonight
. This can’t wait.

**********************

Isabel

When I finally wake up, I feel worn and
used, but in a good way. I sit up and let my eyes adjust to the
light. I’m still in the dungeon and the memory of the suspension
rig fuck fest replays in my mind.
Holy
orgasmic overload.
I can’t believe we did
that
. I can’t believe he wouldn’t allow me
to cum without his permission
. I don’t know whether I
should kick his ass for doing that to me or kneel at his feet and
worship him. I look at my wrists and they’re red and scuffed, but I
think most of it is still from the activities of a few days ago. I
look at my ankles and they’re only lightly scuffed. But my
neck;
sweet baby Jesus
; he
really bit me good. I rub it and it feels tender and raw. I wonder
if he left a hickey, that crazy sucking maniac. Suddenly,
inspiration hits me. I have to paint.
Now.

I stand up, find my panties and socks and see
a note from Dylan on the bed.

Isa, sweetheart, my beautiful artist,

Today was amazing. YOU were amazing. I hate
that I have to leave you because I want nothing more than to be
here with you, in this room. I’ll call you when I get to Dallas. I
miss you already.

Sir

My heart melts at his written
words.
Beautiful artist?
Oh
Dylan. What has he done to me? I hardly know this man and already
I…
NO
. I don’t dare
think
the word.
It’s too soon
for me to be feeling like this or even thinking about
that word
. I push it to the back of
my mind and head to the spare room to paint. I lay the note out
next to me and start on a naughty piece just for Dylan. I paint
feverishly, trying to capture the image of the suspension rig on
canvas.

It’s just after 2:30 in the afternoon
when I’m finished and I’ve completed two very wicked pieces. Dylan
will
love
these. I finally
pry myself from the spare room because I’m famished and make myself
something to eat. After eating and feeling satiated, I decide to
head out onto the balcony to get a look at the stunning view of
Denver. While I’m standing looking at the small buildings in the
horizon, yesterday’s events with Greer replay in my mind.
I hate that man.
The more I think
about the gall and audacity he had to talk to me like that, the
more pissed I become. Something about being with Dylan has made me
feel
different
, more self
assured. I don’t need to put up with Greer’s shit. I don’t even
know why I’ve put up with it for as long as I have. Feeling
emboldened by my day and the activities with Dylan, I decide to pay
the douche bag a visit.

I head to Dylan’s closet and pick out a very
dainty grey halter with patchwork ruffles and matching open toed
gray wedges. Dylan has such wonderful taste in clothing. I could
really get used to this. I put on some cover-up on my freckles and
the bite mark on my neck, some lip gloss, a hint of eye shadow and
some mascara. I make my way to Dylan’s car and drive to Studio
210.

As I park the car, I start to balk. Do
I really want to do this?
Shit. This is a
bad idea. I just know it
. What if Greer tries to get
physical? I know how I can stop that. I have a plan.

I head inside and see Monica near the front
desk. She does a double take at me and I know it’s because of the
clothes. She narrows her eyes at me and starts to make a shitty
comment, but I’m a woman on a mission and I just rebuff her.

“You don’t look sick to me.” She says in her
usual bitchy tone.

“It’s because I’m not. I’m going to talk with
Mr. Greer and I need you to bear witness to what I have to say to
him.” I tell her. She looks bewildered but follows quickly behind
me as I don’t stop to wait for her response. I don’t knock and just
walk right into Greer’s office.

He looks pissed to see me, but I’m not sure
why. Whatever. I don’t care. He looks me over and starts to say
something, but then he sees Monica standing in the doorway.

“I need to talk to Isabel alone,” he starts
to say.

Monica looks back at me as if waiting for my
response. “No, I want her to hear what I have to say to you.” I
tell him. He narrows his eyes further at me and then starts to
stand.

“Sit down.”
I
tell him. I mean business. I need to get on with what I have to
say, before I change my mind. “What happened yesterday is
not
going to happen again. I don’t
know who the fuck you think you are talking to me the way you did,
but I won’t put up with it. I want to make it very clear
that
no
part of my body
belongs to you. ”

The look on Monica and Greer’s face almost
makes me laugh out loud and run around the room and do a jig. Greer
stands to say something to me, but alter ego Isa isn’t finished
yet.

“Did I say I was done yet,
Greer?
No. I didn’t,
so sit
the fuck back down.” I say loudly. Greer’s response is jaw
dropping. He immediately sits down and he actually looks
fearful.

Feeling energized by his response, I
continue, “I want to make something else immensely clear: What
happened between us before was a huge mistake and it’s never, and I
mean
never,
going to happen
again. I don’t need any job badly enough to put up with your shit
Greer, so
I quit
.”

Then I turn to face Monica, “He’s all yours
sweetheart.” I tell her as I push past her and head out of the
office and I swear I could hear both Monica and Greer’s jaws hit
the floor.

Yes! I feel so damned good right now and I’ve
never felt so courageous before. I could definitely get used to the
new and improved ballsy Isabel. Tomorrow I will start looking for
another job. For now, I’m going to bask in the glory of my newfound
cojones.

I decide to stop off and grab a
newspaper before I head back to my place to grab a few more
essentials. When I finally make it back to Dylan’s place, the rest
of my late afternoon is spent looking through the job ads, trying
to find a suitable position. I’ll miss Studio 210 and all the
wonderful art, but that’s the
only
thing I’ll miss. I just hope I can find another job that will
spark my creative interest.

I eat a small dinner just before 6 o’clock. I
wonder if Dylan is done with his day yet. I can hardly wait to tell
him how I told Greer off and that I quit my job. I clean my plate
up and decide to give him a call.

The phone only rings twice and my heart leaps
with anticipation of hearing my Dom’s voice. But my anticipation
turns to horror when I hear a woman’s voice answer his phone. I
hesitate to ask for him, thinking maybe I’ve dialed the wrong
number, but knowing damn well that’s wishful thinking on my part.
“Is Dylan there?” I ask sounding like a timid mouse.

“Is this Isabel?” The voice asks.

“Y…Yes. Is Dylan okay?” I ask,
panicking momentarily at the thought that he’s in the ER and maybe
a nurse has answered his phone.
Oh God.
That would be horrible
.

“You really can’t take a hint can you? He’s
just fine. We’re busy right now and we will be for the rest of the
night, so please don’t bother us again.”

What the fuck?
“Who is this?” I ask sounding more than irritated.

“This is Cassie. His
personal assistant.”

Cassie? The same bitchy receptionist
who only yesterday reminded me that I’m not his type? What the hell
is she doing in his room? With his phone?
Like I don’t know.
I immediately hang up. He’ll
be busy for the rest of the night, huh? I can’t take a fucking
hint? I’ll shove a hint right up her ass along with my foot. I head
into the bathroom feeling sick to my stomach and feeling like I’m
going to vomit. I slump onto the bathroom floor and burst into
tears. I hate being so pathetic.
Why the
fuck am I crying anyway?
I knew what his type was from
the very beginning. Why then did he leave me that note? Why did he
ask me to stay here? What the hell is Dylan playing at? I don’t
need another heartbreak. Greer
was
right
.
I can’t make a
man like Dylan happy. He wants his skinny brunettes? Then he can
have them. He can keep those damned paintings, too, since that’s
all he wanted anyways. He can add them to his fucked up
collection.