Sunday morning I go for a jog, feeling far too awkward about last night. My mind was racing. I couldn't stop thinking about what Ransom said.
Not to you. I'll never be Emmett to you.
Obviously he meant I was only allowed to call him Ransom.
However, he also didn't thank me and avoided me the entire fundraiser last night.
So it was one of two things. I wasn't allowed to say Emmett because he had no respect for me and never would. Or I wasn't allowed to say Emmett because... he... liked me calling him Ransom; which also made no sense because he also said...
Don't worry. Contract is broken. You're free. Forever. I won't... bother you ever again.
And here I was, running into the front lobby after a long jog, watching a mail man about to deliver letters to the drop boxes below.
I walk up behind the worker, watching him edge closer to the penthouse dropbox.
"I'm Mr. Ransom's personal assistant, I'll deliver that to him," I say it in the most professional way I can. The mail man couldn't care less. He shrugs and hands me the couple of letters.
I smile and turn, heading into the lift, feeling my arm pits produce exponentially more sweat.
What the fuck am I doing?
Argh. So stupid. But here I go.
I stand in the lift and I try to press Ransom's button but realise I don't have a swipe card. Fuck.
Intercom for his level. I press it and wait.
"Ayla, is that you?"
Noooo...
"Not - Ale? Anyway. Hey, Emmett, it's Cheryl. I got your letters - the mail man, uh - dropped - them on the lobby floor and I happened to check the address and-"
The light turns green to his floor.
Access.
The intercom buzz cuts short after he replies with silence.
"...Ransom," I hiss. Shit. I called him Emmett! It was a total accident too!
Not that it matters. No contract. No worry.
Why am I doing this again? I feel my stomach drop as the lift speeds up to the top floor and I spread out the three letters in my hand, waiting to hand them over.
I wait and then the lift slows, the doors sigh open and Emmett's face is right there. He holds out his arms, his torso completely bare, a belt over his shoulder, his pants loosely hanging around his hips... oh, no.
His two toned eyes glare at me as holds out one hand for the letters.
I go to hand them over until I hear, "Yes. Slade. Oh, yes! Like this?"
"Good bunny."
"What's that -?" I start to ask when I see a woman run by wearing a rabbit's round pom-pom fluffy tail from her... butt. But I hear multiple female... noises and such.
I try to look past Ransom but he steps with my side-step to block the view of the penthouse.
"You shouldn't be here, Cherry," Emmett murmurs. I'm holding the letters out of reach and behind my back, waiting for the doors to shut - as they do start to slide, he steps back like he doesn't care and I hold out a palm to stop them closing at the last second.
"What's happening?" I ask, whispering it, honestly curious.
"Last Sunday of the month we do classes for highly experienced Submissives - they're swapped in from the Gentlemen's club. You wouldn't understand, Cherry," Ransom smirks to himself a bit and keeps in a demeaning chuckle about some inside joke.
"Uh... okay?" I try to take a step forward to look past him but this time Emmett puts a hand on my shoulder to stop me trying.
"Don't. Step. In here," Ransom warns me.
Like - you'll know what will happen if you enter this space again.
"Oh come on, Ransom, I just want to look," I roll my eyes.
"It's not for inexperienced brats like you," Emmett looks satisfied as I finally take a step back and he looks down to the floor and shakes his head as if to say - don't ever step past this line, or else.
"...because you did such a god awful job with me..." I joke, snorting laughter.
"Cherry, don't tempt me," Ransom smiles with his teeth, glad to grab me if I do step from the lift without permission.
"Sorry. Emmett. 'Contract's broken. You're free. Forever.' I take the word of a Dominant pretty seriously, do you?" I challenge him like I know what the fuck I'm talking about, when I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about.
I stand back, while Emmett, a tad amused but mostly frustrated, lets the doors slide closed while he watches me as if I'm insane for really pushing his buttons.
While the doors start to close, slowly, and Emmett takes a step back... I also impulsively jump forward at the last second and I grab them again, hovering the toe of my sneaker above his floor.
Ransom's eyes dart down and his jaw clenches, "Cherry. I swear to god," he growls low, staring at my toe like it's the bane of his existence.
"Is it Ayla, Ransom?" a woman submissive with a fake little-girl tone comes running up, breasts totally free while she's dressed in latex boots, a garter belt around her thighs and hips - her down-there is also totally waxed and exposed.
Ewww.
I'm pretty sure I can hear something vibrating somewhere.
She pouts in disappointment that it's me, not someone called Ayla, and she falls to her knees at Ransom's side, holding his hand and hugging his thigh and kissing near his butt, her hand hovering up towards his loose pants.
"May I, please, play with you, Ransom?" she asks, looking up, puppy dog eyes, with that cute little tone.
Ransom makes a scolding shhch sound through gritted teeth, you know, when you hiss a command a disobedient puppy. She bows her head, whining out a sorry before turning to crawl away, "Don't ever interrupt me again, Melody," Ransom scolds her some more, growling over his shoulder.
Ransom is totally in his element as he does it and I see the veins in his hand pop.
While he's not looking, I press my sneaker down onto the penthouse floor and then wait for him to turn as the doors are shutting.
This time I don't stop them, but at least Emmett sees my sneaky lil' sneaker before I pull my foot back and the lift clicks shut in his FACE.
HAHAHAHAHA.
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
TAKE THAT.
I'm shaking.
I'm freaking shaking.
I'm also still holding his letters.
Shit.
I frantically press for the doors to open again and they do - thank god. I think.
Ransom is standing back a few steps at his own kitchen sink, somehow managing to drink rather sadistically from a glass of water, looking highly stressed, with red cheeks from his frustration at being unable to punish me.
His eyes pop back to see me standing there, quietly squatting and sliding the letters along the floor while pursing my lips.
"I forgot these... E -!" I don't say his full name on purpose, I stop on the second half of the first syllable to give him the impression that I'd disobey him again, before stopping and smirking myself, "...see you at work, Ransom..." I whisper, masochistically I guess.
As I'm still squatting and smiling like a total weirdo in the lift, I spot a different Dominant walk around the counter towards Ransom.
It's a Dom I've never seen before, but Melody is attached to his ankles and he looks to be a guest.
"Who's that girl, Emmett?" the guest asks, confused.
"She's a Declassified-C Insubordinate; off limits," Ransom responds while the lift shuts again and I'm left with an open mouth.
Declassified-C Insubordinate. Off limits.
What the fuck did that mean?
I head back to my apartment.
And I google that shit.
Nothing.
I find. Nothing.
So that left; code words. Code terms.
For the Gentlemen's Club. Right?
The fuck did that mean though?
Declassify; two meanings. No longer secret? Or reassigned to a lower class?
And Insubordination; defiance of authority; refusal to obey orders.
What did the C stand for, though?.
No longer, secret defiant, cunt?
Nah.
Well. LOL. That was so me in some ways. But I wasn't... but it didn't... um...
I pick up my work phone, it has multiple contacts.
Argh. I can't believe I'm doing this.
Question? What is a Declassified-C Insubordinate.
I've texted Slade.
It takes the fucking shithead four hours to reply while I'm watching soap operas to pass the time, trying not to stress about it.
Slade texts back two words and a laughing crying emoji at the end of it.
Wifey material [laughing crying emoji].
For a second I smirk because I think it's a really funny joke from a playboy who likes to do just that; joke.
But then I lose my smirk.
When Slade texts again. 3 times.
Declassified: Off limits from other Doms.
C: Consort Class. Aka; Wife.
Insubordinate: Total shit-faced submissive. Aka Bratville.
I text back, I'm not shit-faced.?
You're WELCOME, Chair. And then another text from Slade. You should come next month. Learn a thing or two.
Ha! I text back. Apparently I'm engaged, so... no.
Eme thinks you're wife material, dipshit. Doesn't mean he'll wife you up. Just means he doesn't think you're worth being a Sub. And a second later. Probably because you're too dense. Submissives are smart fuckers.
I hate Slade.
Fuck off.
Already did. Multiple times.
Gross. My fingers are shaking as I text it.
No u. Sometimes I really I don't get Slade's dumb humour. But I also totally get it. It's like mine.
You're a child. I write.
You're a poor bitch. Fuck him.
And then. To top it off.
One more text.
Not me to Slade. Not Slade to me.
From Emmett.
Stop FUCKING around with S.
LMAO.
So I text Emmett back, So when are we getting married? Oh wait. I forgot. You have step-mummy issues. [laughing crying emoji][laughing crying emoji][laughing crying emoji][laughing crying emoji]
Send.
Actually, I shouldn't send that. Wait. I already did.
Oops...?
I get no reply. From either brother.
I almost think Emmett will come to my door, I must have fucked up that bad.
Instead, the knock I get is someone else entirely.
A administrative note is slipped under the door.
From Symphony Management Front Desk. We've had a rather concerning noise complaint from one of your neighbours. We don't tolerate that kind of behaviour in Symphony Tower and will do everything we can to insure all residents remain happy and safe. One more complaint and you'll be evicted. Thank you for your understanding and your co-operation. Please follow apartment rules and regulations.
Ummm....
And then, in a state of confusion, I get another notification.
On my phone.
$200 was deposited in your bank account.
What the fuck is happening right now? So random.
To top it off.
A text from E. Ransom.
Dinner. With me. 9pm. Non-negotiable. It's high class; so dress up.
NINE FUCKING PM.
Who ate dinner that late?
I almost text back.
But then Ransom texts again. One more time. It's a snap text. So it disappears into oblivion after I've read it.
Anymore back-chat and you'll be homeless before I come to give you your only options left. Cherry. Limits. You have no idea how much I specialise in LIMITS or how much you need them. Bad. BAD. Girl. Cherry. The fucking worst.
Aw...
...shit.
The fucking worst?
Oops?
I've really fucked it now...
...haven't I?
Um.
Mission... accomplished.
?
I think.
Yeah. It worked. And I'm... um... I'm kind of wet. Like a-lot wet.
I'm just not sure if I'm totally going to regret this or not.