The Girlfriend

HOLIDAY SPECIAL: New Year's

I want to preface this chapter with the simple idea that people often do mean or cruel things to further their own means. Jon and Pat are flawed men, they shouldn't be idolized, and had I told The Assistant from their POV's as well, I think many readers may have been angry at the manipulation tactics they used. Lydia was our storyteller in the first installment and therefore we only ever saw what the men wanted her to see, they didn't want her to see them for who they were.

Growth is a choice, and I believe they have grown immensely in the time they've spent in my head. So, with that in mind, Jon does not come across as a kind and confident man in this chapter, rather, he is conniving and vindictive. Qualities that made him a good lawyer and a terrible friend to Patrick.

Jon, eight months earlier

"I need you to back off."

I glanced up from my desktop to a very dishevelled Patrick standing in my doorway. His hair was ruffled, his deep green suit jacket was misbuttoned and there was the tiniest hint of hot pink lipstick on his collar. I hope no one else has seen him like this. I warned him that it wasn't professional and that people were watching him closely, especially with the amount of attention he blatantly showered Lydia with.

"I'm sitting at my desk working, where am I supposed to go?" I asked dryly.

"Back off with Lydia."

I pushed my glasses up and sat back in my chair. "What's wrong? You sound upset."

He locked the door and went to the bar, ignoring me while he poured a drink. My irritation rose and I drummed my fingers on my desk expectantly. Why did I have to back off? She came on to me first, she flirted with me relentlessly. Patrick didn't even have the balls to come on to her with more than a double entendre, he didn't touch her until after I did.

Patrick grabbed his glass, the ice clinked loudly and he took a long swig from it before coming over to sit at my desk. Christ, he's going to be all sentimental or some shit. I leaned back in my chair and unlocked the drawer with my cigarettes.

Smoke swirled upwards lazily from the glowing ash, bringing the warm and calming scent of tobacco as the smoke dissipated.

"You're pissed at me," I said after a minute. "I get that."

"Pissed doesn't begin to cut it," he replied quietly. "I asked you to come onto her, not fuck her. She has the expectation that you're always going to be involved now."

I shrugged. "Alright, and what would you like me to do?" I didn't want to let go of her yet, I needed her just a little while longer. She made my day easier; she was the only person in my life that was happy to see me no matter what. I needed her. "Do you still want me to train her?"

Lydia was new to BDSM, I knew that, Patrick knew that too, but she was eager to do more and I was sure at the way she had taken so easily to things that she had some mild experience with it before. But she didn't have the type of experience that he and I liked; she had little knowledge of obedience, of the type of sadistic control that Patrick had an addiction to, or my need to feel powerful and respected. She understood that we wanted to punish her for not doing what we wanted, but she hadn't quite grasped the scope of it. She likely had no idea the level of control either of us wanted to have in her day-to-day life.

I'd trained dozens of submissives at the Club, men and women that wanted to try the lifestyle full-time for a temporary period and wanted to see if they liked it enough to continue. I worked with other Dom's to help them develop their control and technique, to help them learn to use the tools they wanted to use and how to be safe doing so. Christine taught me, I taught Patrick, and now I was going to be Lydia's trainer – we had already agreed on that.