Free Just One Night, Part 3: Binding Agreement by Kyra Davis Page A

The singer has moved very close now. I see that she stands next to Genevieve, whose hand is around her waist, touching her softly as she watches me.
    I can feel that I’m about to come. I cry out softly but again Robert stops me, sharply telling the man to step away. “Only for me,” he explains. “She only comes for me.” And with that it’s his fingers that are touching me, not just playing but entering my body, first one then two. There’s no waiting anymore. The orgasm comes hard and shakes my whole body from the inside out.
    In an instant his shirt is off as well, then his pants; he’s naked as he climbs on top of me, entering me in front of this small group of employees.
    Because in the end, that’s what they are, I realize. They’re the people Robert hires and fires, the people he would give me similar authority over. The power lies with Robert and me, here on this bar as he enters me again and again. They watch with awe and excitement, privileged to be included in this moment.
    I wrap my legs around his waist. The bar is wide but I do wonder if we can maintain this balance. At what point do we go too far, forget ourselves, fall to the floor?
    But that doesn’t happen. Robert holds us in place. It’s as if our will alone keeps us from falling. I hear him groan as my nails run up and down his back. This is no longer submission. The fear has stepped aside, giving us room to revel in the aphrodisiac of power.
    “She’s magnificent,” sighs the singer.
    Yes, magnificent. Just like in the boardroom. I feel it. I know it. In this moment I’m absolutely sure he’s right about everything. I was shy, slow to see the brilliance of my situation. I can do anything. Anything. We make the rules. No one else. Just us.
    “This is the only price,” he breathes into my ear, “to be inside your power.”
    “Yes,” I whisper back and my body starts to shake once more. This orgasm builds slowly, with each thrust. I feel his hands, his mouth, their eyes . . . I feel him grinding inside of me. When I come, he comes with me, no longer able to hold out for another minute. Together we raise our voices and our audience collectively sighs.
    I know they want to touch me again. The singer looks as if she wants to touch Robert. But they’re not allowed. We’ve made fear our lover, power our foundation . . .
     . . . and we make all the rules.

CHAPTER 8

    I WAKE UP THE next morning next to Robert, in his bed, with another hangover. This one isn’t alcohol induced; it’s the hangover you’re left with when the world changes under your feet, when there’s a rewiring of the mind. Everything is different today. I don’t fear Fear. I’ve done things I never thought I would or could and now, if I can do that . . . if I can let myself submit like that, is it so outrageous to think that I can master? Isn’t it almost required in order for me to keep the balance? Because if I don’t exercise my dominance in other areas of my life, I will feel weak and controlled. I won’t let that happen. Not anymore.
    I rise from the bed with a new, more primitive energy. Robert watches without saying a word as I make my way to the master bath. I think I smell Genevieve’s perfume on my skin, the bass player’s cologne . . . a menagerie of lovers. They possessed me but, then again, they themselves are possessed. One word from me could have stopped them. One word from me could destroy them.
    I wash them off of me under the warm streaming water of Robert’s shower. My head is clearing. I know how today needs to begin.
    Robert doesn’t join me in the shower. Somehow he senses it wouldn’t be right. When I return to his bedroom, I see that there are garment bags with new clothes in them for me. Nothing too revealing. A one-hook off-white blazer with matching relaxed trouser. A deep blue camisole makes it pop. It’s all perfectly appropriate; the only thing that makes it out of the ordinary is the attitude of the woman who will