༺ 𝙰𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚊: 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕... ༻
༆ 𝙿𝙾𝚅: 𝙹𝚞𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚊 ༆
"You can't do that." friends - they're quite something, aren't they? On one hand, you trust them with some of the deepest and darkest secrets of your life, expect them to keep those thoughts and feelings to themselves and never exploit them to another living breathing soul, no matter what reasoning is behind the maliciously intended action...but on the other hand, they use the solidifying trust and confinement you have in them back onto you, to learn more about those certain secrets, despite your feelings on the matter. "You can't tell me two of Chicago's finest women offered you a place in their bed, and not tell me who they are..."
Meet Jasmin - the friend that covers all criteria for being the undoubtable most greatest best friend a girl could ever ask for, especially the part about secret-keeping. From telling her i'm bisexual in a shocking revelation, to week-long petty crushes never mounting to anything, every detail about my life is stored in her mind and memory, locked away in a safe place which is securely guarded shut by tightly controlled padlocks, the strongest human alive unable to break the chains. After sharing one of the most vulnerable possessions my mind has held for so long, it certainly became undoubtable to me that she'd have many questions, however whether or not I'd answer them was based on the utter dependability...
"Well I believe I just did, Jasmin." she religiously tosses her pupils to the sky, creating a small semicircle before allowing them to level with my own much darker-shaded ones, the action showing a clearly hefty amount of annoyance along with it. "Don't play smart with me, Echo. We both know you'll let slip eventually..." I slump depressingly in my seat, knowing that in some perspective, she's absolutely correct. It's times like these I resent having a close friend who's a dom, as she has the powerful ability to take full control of my anatomy, for however long she sees fit, and to do whatever she pleases with that sacred power. But I won't tell a lie - having someone close to me, caring for me, telling me they're the one with the responsibility and power soothes my heart and soul in a loving way...which is the exact reason why I was led to believe I shared love with Elijah...
Things were good, in the beginning. He was the best boyfriend anyone could even hope to have, let alone gain as a permanent part of day-to-day life...an appearance of unexpected flowers 'just because', endless hours of close contact I'd frequently crave from him, not to mention the occasional moments where everything just seemed stimulating, in every way...nearly every part of my damaged soul wishes it stayed like that...nearly every part...
If he were to have not exposed his true self to me, his actual ways of normally behaving, the way he portrays himself as a member of society? I'd be living in the damned dark, like a goddamn fool, unable to wake up and smell the roses and face the true colours of the man I fell in love with, to only find he's nothing like I thought...
Noticing the deep, depressing fall of my chocolate-skinned face, slipping into a state of depress, my eager-eyed friend retracts her former aura, turning her emotions from slightly probing, to a caring demeanour she believes I require. "Hey, you know I'm only joking...did I cross the line?" swallowing a mouthful of air, holding it within the walls of my rib cage before emptying it to form a hollow and bottomless pit inside me, I turn to my guilt-ridden confidante, a weak smile wearily drawn across my lips. "No, no need to worry. I'm okay, Jas...I'm fine..."
Somehow within my human, whether it be part of my mind or conscience, I deeply personally believe that the more I secretly tell myself the lie of that my current state of mind and being is 'fine', the more I hope to find myself knowing that the covered up reality will cloak itself, becoming blind and concealed from my wildly searching eyes.
After being within close vicinity alongside the woman who I know will always have my back no matter what, who will pick me up at my lowest and will raise my spirits when it's most needed, the more she's learned of the specifically detailed areas of my emotions, able to read my face and mind like a book she never wants to put down, the easier it becomes to detect each minor social interaction that occur between us. Even without her vast experience of enduring my personality, it doesn't take a fool to realise I'm anything but fine...or to realise it's most certainly not the time to question me on my unbeknownst emotions.
"Okay, E...whatever you say..." as if she read my mind, Jasmin wheels herself back over to her work station which is adjacent from my own, where I'm attempting to complete an article my boss emailed over to me, scheduled to be finished within the next coming hour. Clicking on the document I received, the page opens to fill my screen in its entirety, the headline of the newly produced article catching my eye,
'Chicago's Finest Divorce Attorney. Ms. Sloan Mendez-Huges: The Secret to Lawful Success...'
A breath hitches precipitously inside my throat, something minimal that I find myself harshly choking on, trying my best to cover up the embarrassing moment with a loudly executed 'ahem', which I'm sure turns a few heads of my colleagues close by, embarrassment creeping up. Knowing that I'm about to delve deep into the professional and possibly personal life of one of the two women who I think highly of makes my body tingle in places I truly didn't think existed, even after living with this body for the last 22 years, which seem like a complete waste to me now after experiencing different kinds of touches that set me alight from within ever since those mere couple of weeks ago when my life changed for the better...
Before I can even begin to realise how quickly the time that made up the wholesome idea of my shift, it seems as though I've reached the end of my painfully long job...for today, at least. "Want a ride home?" as grateful as I am for the touching offer, which I'm sure has an ulterior motive of making sure I find myself to my place of residency in a safe and compact way based on my friends undying need to take care of me in a way no one else does, the very last thing I'd prefer to do is make a dreaded arrival to a damaged and broken home I currently live in, suffering through my fragmented relationship that is sure to be beyond the point of no return...
I barely find the chance to give my friend an appropriate answer, as I notice my boss, Emerson, step outside of his established office, a blank expression resting on his face during the time his eyes fixate on me, carelessly stood in the middle of the communal office area, casually talking to my colleague. Something within his gaze tells me the next words to come flying out of his arrogant mouth are ones I will refuse to appreciate, on any kind of level...
"Juliana, in my office, please." ducking his body back into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar so any recurring conversations can easily be heard, with caution, I lean far inward so my lips are level with Jasmin's ear, my words easily audible through the thick tension coating the rooms air. "No, thanks. I best go see what 'Up-His-Ass' wants." managing a snigger between us which accidentally causes a small yet loud laugh from myself, I whack my friend on the upper arm to silence her chuckles from the one person with the power to scold us incessantly, and who needn't hear our mischievous behaviour in the workplace occurring.
Following an imaginary line of trail into my boss' office, I silently close the door behind me, hoping deep down that this conversation doesn't take any longer than a few mere survivable minutes, as I'm un-confident I'd be able to survive any longer than the suggested time without the utter need to rip my own eye lashes out of their secured place, taking a downer on my feminine beauty.
Emerson is your typical alpha-male asshole of a boss: believes he walks on crystalline water, every other person, besides the poor unfortunate souls who he manages to push aside his inhumanity for, should bow at his feet, begging to be worthy of his astounding presence, all created from his 'spoiled-little-rich-kid' upbringing, which is one more would pity than envy. "What is it, Emerson?" his green, seemingly angry eyes flick up to mine, a direct journey intended to cause an abrupt flinch from myself, a journey that seems to have failed him greatly.
It's 10 o'clock on a Friday evening, the moon is hung loud and proud in the Chicagoan night sky, and the obvious tiredness plastered across my droopy face is screaming some foul words due to the fact that I'm still standing here...with him. I'm in no absolute mood to be my usual politely-mannered self. But nevertheless, it appears as if he reciprocates my attitude himself, shown by the heavy bags sewn below his eyes, weighing down his facial features massively. "I was unable to complete the interview with Sloan Mendez, my father called me in for a meeting and I still have a large amount of questions left on my list to get through."
Oh, for goodness sake...you can't be serious...
I continue to wait there, endlessly waiting to find out what role I play in this scenario for what seems like an eternity that will never come to a gratifying conclusion. Despite my bad mood, I refrain from speaking the exact words on my mind in front of my boss' son, as other employees who have dared do so have found themselves being escorted to the front door, left without a job to earn a stable living income from, and never to be let through it again. "I need you to go to the building where her firm is and conclude the interview for me. She's expecting you to be quick, even a woman of her calibre has a home to go to at the end of the day."
Using every fibre within my being, mustering them up to a point of ridicule, I hold in the utter urge to allow every critical thought come spewing out of my mouth, finding the prospect of being overworked beyond the line I drew for myself when I took this job two years ago past the point of absurdity. "I'm very aware, Emerson, because as have I. I've already completed my overtime and was meant to arrive home hours ago." the blonde man before me elevates to his 6'5 height, towering over my much smaller and thinner carcass, in an attempt to hoarsely dominate my womanly figure, as well as my outspoken words of firmness, words that I refuse to retract from the world's exposure. "You're doing it, Juliana. I'm your boss, I pay your wages, so you listen to me, or suffer the consequences. Understood?"
I begin biting down harshly on my thick pink tongue, holding it shaking my still as I pierce it's meaty thickset with my dulled teeth, preventing any unsanitary words from escaping my gape and being exposed to the tense air clouding our bodies, the oxygen which we inhale and exhale in stout intimidation driving me to cripple beneath the heavily-applied pressure. I've found during my uneventful life, that sometimes, the easier option is the option labelled 'best to go with', in order to be successful in gaining what you truly want as an outcome, which is a peaceful solution ending in your statutory happiness.
Besides...seeing one half of the women I've found difficult to eradicate out of my minds home wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, now would it?
Re-looking over the vast amount of information I've been directed to collect from one of Chicago's most dominating women, I begin to notice an intense nervous emotion snake it's way up my spine, tangling itself around the weakened bone, nothing within my power able to halt it from doing so. Hearing the elevator doors cast open with a silent mindfulness which fails to fill the utter silence I'm immediately met with as soon as I arrive isn't a sentiment I'm grateful for when I begin my journey of exhaustion. Capturing a weighty breath into my gob, my heels click-clack along the hardwood flooring, the creepy noise found to be somewhat daunting to my empty ears...
"Uhh, hello? Is- is anyone there?" my shakily-asked question has no obvious effect on the living level of sound which is practically non-existent, much to my dismay. My pupils search through the ebony-shaded aroma, coaxing the room with its robust midnight air which thickens through the tall, ceiling-to-floor windows, a moon shining across the room I'm met with. When I find it evident that there's no other bodies here, I begin to believe Emerson sent me on a wild goose chase, keen to humiliate me in any way as I refuse to submit to his egotistical demands, unlike my colleagues. "Great. This was a waste of time...as if Sloan would want to see me. I'm nothing but a stuttering mess around her and Beatrix..."
I turn on my heel, directly heading for the same shaft which carried my now relatively relaxed body toward my destination, eager to repeat the action in reverse...just when, the black-onyx mist disappears in a sudden flash, the entirety of the space behind me lighting up at the brusque flick of a switch. My whole anatomy jumps up in the air in an ungracious manner, the curt, snappy movement causing me to slip dangerously hard onto the hardwood terrain due to the thin stalk of my left heel which snaps in two, my backside and tailbone crashing down onto the ground at an unmissable amount of pain, a bruise more than sure to appear on my skin.
Filling the tense silence around me are another woman's footsteps making their loud arrival over toward me, and after a short blink, I gaze up toward the sky with the one person who I came here to seek out, a small smile painted across her plump lips, and her long curly hair barely tickling my face whilst she bends over, to apologetically smile at me. However, the only emotion I'm met with other than nervousness is hot, boiling anger for the last ridiculous few minutes I spent seeming like a goddamn fool in front of this woman for, whilst she happily stepped back and allowed me to do so, then proceeded to scare me to the point of injury with her dominance. Reaching a hand to help me up, ignoring my opponent's candid silent apology, once my feet are level on the ground below me, I frustratedly dust down my front, scruffing off my work top in a hopeless attempt to appear more able.
Before Sloan can say anything, I find the next few words come sprinting out of my mouth, beyond my absolute control in any way, words I immediately begin to regret to an endless point. "Are you fucking insane?! You scared the shit out of me!" after throwing my hands up in the air in a sudden rush of pure rage, I realise there's absolutely nothing left for me to do to retract my actions, the way I portrayed myself before this extraordinary, dominating woman considered rudely cruel. Her face morphs into one of stern, frenzied animosity, the eyes created within her face stabbing into my flesh, as well as her fists showing just as much anger by curling tightly into her palms.
There's no way to take back what I just said...my knees begin to quake at the sheer indignation flushing her appearance, my heart booming in my chest to the point of uncontrollable numbness, and my throat growing tighter and tighter and tighter as I realise...I'm in trouble.
a/n: Juliana made the grave submissive mistake of disrespecting a dom on her own territory through a flush of emotion, and Sloan isn't one who's forgiveness is easy to earn. But will she make an exception for the woman she has a soft spot for?