Heels & Handcuffs (BDSM)

Chapter 2: The Dinner

Half up and half down? Or messy bun? Or curls? Or bone straight? Fuck, I might as well shave all of it off! I cursed at myself mentally as I tried to decide on a hairstyle suitable for tonight's dinner with number one on my hit list- literally and not sexual figuratively speaking, who also just so happened to be my ex husband.

I had been mentally cursing myself since our eyes locked once again in a bittersweet reunion at the fundraiser that was held in his name. I dragged my best friend, Jude with me and am very glad I did. I needed her for most reasons people needed their best friends.

1. To remind me that I am that bitch and always will be.
2. I did not need a man in order for that to be true
3. No matter how mouth-watering he appeared in his re invented appearance- he was still a fool for letting me get away...for not fighting for me. For our marriage.

The first two things I had started saying to myself before Jude did. That was something I had muttered to myself after a fresh heartbreak from all of my high school boyfriends and it had worked for the most part.

But even hearing them from Jude, I realized that those sweet words of encouragement couldn't mend the hole my divorce honestly left in me. I hated that I was still so instantly entranced by the very man who created that very hole. With his flippant attitude, complacent compassion for me, and wavering acts of service. I worked. He did not. The only thing that remained constant was our sex life. But even that was on a schedule that he controlled. I was on his time. I would only feel wanted by him when he felt like he did, when he wanted to.
We married at 23 after 5 years of dating and from the outside- we had a pretty balanced marriage. I was so in love with him and all he was....I couldn't see the toxic seed brewing in our budding marriage. He stayed home, absorbing knowledge from the games he played for hours on end on his MacBook. He could notice when there was a software update but not when I had a bought a dress specifically for him because I knew it was his favorite color.

I would buy him gifts on end, suck his dick whenever I got the chance without being asked, would wake up every morning with a smile on my face and had breakfast made for him. I would try to capture his attention but the latest live action shooting game seemed to be more appealing than my leaned body in lace lingerie. He wouldn't even notice when I was trying and barely noticed when I stopped....barely noticed the silently sobs that came from the other side of the bed as I would clutch my pillow for comfort. When it was he, my husband, that I should have been clinging too. I would cry for hours while his headphones were plugged into his computer blasting music about beautiful women with desirable bodies and were about stacking their money. How could I not be that women? Wasn't I? Why couldn't have I been enough?
I wondered why everything but me seem to catch his attention and standing here 2/12 years later, the question still lingered in my mind before I turned down an invitation for a date by a man. A man who probably meant well and could treat me well- better than Lucas ever did.

But my imagery of love and marriage has faded and now replaced by a sexy, more self loving workaholic of a woman. But I had no complaints. I would do my job tonight regardless. Trying to pry open the mind of my ex spouse and see if I could see what he was up to.

So I secretly hoped he wanted me just as badly as I felt he did last night, because I would use it against him. Even though my boss didn't give me instructions to harm Lucas, apart of me wanted to, and not with a physical weapon.

I slid a casual black dress that fitted tight to my body and thin straps that allowed me to go braless. After being teased in high school over my small breasts, I find them to be exceptional accessories with any given outfit: you could never go wrong with a little nipple action.

I settled with my hair in a messy bun and two strains down in front of my face. I wore large silver hoop earrings, two studs for my other ear piercings, clear lipgloss and simple cat eye liner. I tossed on my beloved black wrap around heels that reached to my calf with a faux fur jacket on my shoulders and was out the door of my cozy skyline penthouse.
The things we are asked to do in my line of service are unspeakable which is probably why the reimbursement is so grand. It has allowed me to be attached to my surroundings but only to the extent I'd allow. So I could view from afar and above, but never quite immersed.