A/N: Just a side note, friends. Not only is this chapter SUUUUPER long, but it's also got slight mentions of light BDSM. You have been warned. Still not a smut chapter. Still no intentions of it going into a smut story. There will be a red flag in the middle in bold to tell you when it starts and stops as to not deter you from the rest of the story. I will take my bows now. Enjoy, friends.
I loved the Madame dearly, but I wish she wouldn't work my ass so hard. She's got me throwing more hip than God knows what to do with. And if my turns are loose, I swear she'll start throwing empty bottles at me. At the end of the day, though, I knew exactly why Madame worked me so hard. She knows I can handle it. Even before I started skating, Madame made sure I got the high energy routines.
That's why she made me Lady Marmalade. I had stamina coming out the ass and Lady Marmalade began with a delicate, yet rigorous ballet routine. Then, it turned into a fast-paced burlesque routine with the most intricate moves I've ever had to do. Not that I was complaining. It put me in touch with a side of myself that I never knew existed. Much like what going to Cosmos did for me. Or, should I say, reignited in me?
"Alright, Vi," Madame allowed, just as out of breath as I was, "I think we can call it quits for today. You're doing great, baby. I'm proud of you."
"I'm exhausted," I doubled over a table. One would think Ernie would splurge on bigger ones for me to lay on.
"As well you should be," she teased, "You're human, not a machine."
"I will feel this tomorrow," I glared, "And it's all your fault."
"Excuse me?" Madame defended, "Who's the one that asked me to choreograph her program for the season?"
"Me."
"Who's the one picking the fast songs to dance to?"
"Me."
"Your moves are elaborate because you need them to be," Madame sat down with me, "That's how you're going to win the judges over. A little bit of sex appeal can go a long way. Too much is trashy. Too little is prudish. Just enough? That's the sweet spot right there."
"That's why I train in my old burlesque club," I admitted, "Same principle. Not too trashy. Not too tame."
"And because I'm probably the best dance teacher you ever had," she assumed, "Am I right?"
"I don't know," I thought back, "The one I had when I was a kid was a mega bitch, so you get a leg up there. Although, I did have one when I was living in Russia that was an absolute delight. You'd love Natalia. She's awesome."
"Hey, Violet," Madame moved her chair back, "While I'm thinking of it, give me your legs."
"Why?" I gave her a look.
"I want to check them over," she explained, "Make sure your bruises aren't getting any worse."
"Actually," I kicked my throbbing feet up on her knee, "My bruises are almost gone. Icing them helps exponentially."
"And are you icing your legs?" Madame asked, already having my answer figured out.
"As often as I can," I bit my lip.
"So, once in a blue moon?"
"I've been busy," I argued, "I wake up, go to lessons, go to practice, go home, take a nap, have a life. Where am I going to fit in icing down my legs, too?"
"You need to take better care of yourself, Violet," she scolded, "If you tell me you've been living on Oreos and Dr. Pepper, too, I'm taking drastic action."
"I'm not living on Oreos and Dr. Pepper," I promised, getting up from my chair, "In fact, I'm about to go ice my bruises right now. But only if my routine ends up sucking and I take a nasty fall."
"Violet Isabella," Madame groaned, "You're going to put me in an early grave."
"Sorry," I giggled to myself, "I'll try not to miss any jumps."
"Thank you," she slumped down in her seat, "Really, though, Violet. Take better care of yourself. Just a little bit. That's all I ask. At least once a week."
"I can try." If Madame truly met Mike and told him all of this, I had no doubt in my mind that my life would be a living hell very quickly. I'd be taken care of whether I wanted to be or not. He's more forceful about my well-being than Victor, "I'll see you later, Madame. Wish me luck."
"Bye, sweetheart," Madame waved me off and I headed down a couple blocks to the rink.
Nothing quite like a good session on the ice to make me feel better. Although, the cool down between the Red Room and the rink was always nice, too. And with the weather getting warmer, the walks were a lot more pleasant. They reminded me of the late springs in St. Petersburg. The sounds of the traffic. The birds cawing more than they should. I missed living in Russia, but I loved living in New York again. It felt so familiar.
"Morning, Violet," Gene met me outside the rink. It's strange. Ever since I got a bodyguard, the reporters are starting to leave me alone. Maybe because Celestino tore Doyle Wallace of Skate Weekly Magazine such a new one (with a little bit of help from yours truly). Or the fact that Gene was twice my size and could probably hold his own in a fight.
"Morning, Gene," I fell into his embrace. But then, I also caught sight of a small, white cup in his hand, "And what's that?"
"This," he gave it to me, "is for you. Since you were coming off your dance lesson, I figured you could use the boost. You drink a flat white, right?"
"I love you, Gene," I took a long, delightful sip from my latte, "Yes, I do."
"And," Gene kept an arm around me as the two of us went inside, "I had the barista put an extra something, something in it."
"I'm not tasting Kahlua," I took another drink, trying to pinpoint it.
"I meant an extra shot of espresso, you lush," he teased, "Finish that up. I'm sure Celestino won't let you drink that while you're skating and cold coffee sucks."
"Amen, sister," I agreed, "But iced coffee is so good."
"I'm not doubting that," Gene nodded.
"Cold coffee is like wannabe iced coffee," I thought, "But sadly, it will never be iced coffee."
"You're oddly energetic," he pointed out, "What's the occasion?"
"What do you mean, oddly energetic?" I wondered, "I'm usually like this."
"No, no, sweetheart," Gene argued, "What time did you get in last night?"
"Last night...?" I winced, "I didn't get in last night..."
"This morning, then," he rolled his eyes.
"About seven," I think that's what the clock said before I took my half hour nap. I did feel like shit when I walked in, but that's because of...Well...Last night was a little rough, but well worth it. It's amazing what a quick shower and a vitamin B will do.
"Very nice, Violet," Gene applauded sarcastically, "So, you got laid last night and that's what's got you up and at it today."
"That's not the only reason why," I groaned, "I can't just be in a good mood?"
"Far be it for me to look a gift horse in the mouth here," he let it go, getting the door for me, "Go on. Make me proud."
"Morning, Coach!" I called out into the void of the empty rink. Might as well get my skates on, too.
"Good morning, Violet," Celestino finally joined in, "Sorry. I had to get Yurio to his dance lesson and bring Yuri back to Victor. It's been a hectic morning."
"Maybe you need this more than I do," I gave him the rest of my latte. It's not like I could finish it anyway. I'd hate to see it go to waste.
"Flat white?" he assumed.
"Double."
"Grazie, bambina," Celestino downed it without another thought.
"Hold on," I stopped him, "What did you have Yuri for? I thought Victor was coaching him."
"He asked me to fill in this morning," he nursed his burning tongue, "Something about an appointment he couldn't miss. He seemed a little scatterbrained this morning."
"Victor's always a little scatterbrained," I pointed out, "If he's not, then there's something wrong with him."
"But he seemed more scatterbrained than usual," Celestino worried.
"I'm sure he's fine," I brushed him off, finishing the last bow at the top of my skate, "So, what are we doing today?"
"Do you have a song list for this season?" he asked.
"Lady Marmalade, Bad Romance, and S&M," I decided, "Good enough? I'd say they all fit different aspects of my theme perfectly."
"That they do," Celestino agreed, "But are you sure that's what you're wanting to go with?"
"Yep," I started heading out to the middle of the rink, "Let's start with Bad Romance today."
"You don't strike me as the Lady Gaga type, Violet," he wondered, "Are you sure you want to do Bad Romance?"
"Who said anything about Gaga's version?" I smirked, "Don't get me wrong. Lady Gaga's alright once in a while, but for this, I want the Halestorm version. It's a lot louder, a lot harder, and definitely the right level of angst I'm wanting to get across."
"Alright," Celestino wasn't going to fight me. He usually trusted me with my own music choices. When I first started, he was more than happy to let me pick my music. I had an eclectic taste and a good pulse on song meanings. For my lust theme this year, I'd say Bad Romance will do quite nicely.
As the guitar riff began, I started doing some of my own choreography. Madame could get me my step sequence perfectly, but as far as the skating aspect was concerned, that was all me. Now, Bad Romance...It's cited as being about taking all the worst parts of someone and finding a way to love them. Falling in love with the other person's flaws. The parts that they would call ugly and making it beautiful.
That's not how I was looking at it.
I'm seeing this more at the end of the relationship. When those flaws turn into monsters. The anger, the lying, the cheating, the guilt. That's when they turn into feelings of revenge. Someone was hurt and torn apart and left in the gutter heartbroken. They were nothing but a hollow shell of what they once were. The person saw the flaws as something beautiful once. But then, over time, they mutated. And the person ended up paying the price.
What better way to portray that anger and pain than through some of the sharpest moves in my arsenal? I had spins on lock and a few jumps that could use some work, but they were still pretty tight and clean. I could do this. And for the end, a quad toe loop to stab into the monster's chest, so they knew the pain they put the other one through. I collapsed to the ice, feeling the coolness soothe my aching body. Thank you, ice. You'll always be there for me.
"Well done, Violet," Celestino applauded, "Very nice. I'm not sure if I should feel proud of you or pity you."
"I'll take the pride, please," I groaned, not wanting to get up.
"Alright then," he decided, "I'm proud of you. What was going through your head then?"
"I'd rather not talk about it," I skated back to the barricade, "I'll let my skating do the talking for me."
"I couldn't have said it better myself," Celestino let it go, "Now, what are you skating next? Do I play Lady Marmalade or S&M?"
"Surprise me," I didn't know if I even wanted to do another one. My stamina may be incredible, but it's like Madame said. I'm human, not a machine. I could only go so far, "Preferably the slower one of the two."
"Ok," he gave me my water bottle, "Take a minute first. Once you get your breath back, then we'll do it, ok?"
"Ok," I chirped, taking a good, heavy drink from my bottle. I mixed up a nice little concoction of energy drinks and Gatorade before I left my condo this morning. Hopefully, that'll give me the little boost I need to get through my next song. No matter which one Celestino picks. Although, because I asked for the slower one of the two, I wouldn't be surprised if he was playing Lady Marmalade. Which wouldn't be so bad. It'd be enough to where I could cool down, but still get some practice in.
"Are you good?" Celestino asked, checking me over.
"Yep," I gave him my bottle, "Let's do this."
"Alright," he let me get back to the middle of the ice and hit play on my phone.
Oh, yeah. This brought me back.
This song was my equivalent of red lipstick. I had to pull a bit of a Jekyll and Hyde with this song. The judges will be confused as to why I'd be doing a ballet routine instead of something a little sexier at first. Because that's the way the old routine started. Something a little innocent to only heighten the sex appeal toward the end. Lure them in with the pretty face and the graceful moves.
And as soon as it broke down, I spun down into the ice. Only to rise again like the phoenix Lady Marmalade was and turn up the sex appeal. She's not the girl they thought they knew anymore. She's something different. An entirely different monster. Something they've never seen before. She had become Lady Marmalade, the siren leading them in with sharper, more venomous moves. That's right. Chase the pretty girl. Because she's about to be your downfall. I don't know why, but I always imagined Lady Marmalade to be some sort of vampire in the French Quarter of New Orleans.
Finally, the song had come to an end and I took my final fall. Damn, that felt good! Thank you, Victor, for convincing me to bring Lady Marmalade to the ice. Because that might be my new favorite routine. Other than skating Primadonna with Yurio. I don't think anything could ever top that. It's what got him skating in the first place and in a way, it got me back to the ice.
"Violet?" Celestino called out, "Are you alive?"
"Barely," I stuck my thumb up in the air, "But I'm ok!"
"Do you still want to do S&M?"
"No, thank you," I sighed out, "I think I'm done for the day."
"I couldn't agree more," he allowed, "You don't need to strain yourself so much."
"Yeah, I do," I got back to the barricade, "If I don't give it my all, what's the point of doing it?"
"You also don't want to peak too soon," Celestino scolded, "I know you want to crush every performance, bambina, but you also need to remember to pace yourself."
"I'll be fine," I brushed him off, finishing off my bottle. Then, I remembered I had a promise to fulfill, "Hey, Celestino, can I ask you a question?"
"Shoot."
"Next practice," I requested, "Do you think I could bring a little friend of mine with me?"
"A little friend?" he wondered while Gene had a big ass grin on his face, "I told you, Violet. You're not skating with Yurio this season."
"I wasn't talking about Yurio," I clarified, "I made a little girl a promise that I'd take her skating the next time I had practice, but I had to run it by you first. I promise you'll love her, too."
"Will I want to take her on, too?" Celestino jabbed, "Because I have enough skaters on my plate as it is. Between you and Yurio, I don't think I could do another one on top of that. It was hard enough keeping Yurio and Yuri's programs separate while they were skating today."
"No," I shook my head, "She's a little young to be thinking about getting into this professionally. Please? I'll show up to practice every day for the next week and work twice as hard. Pleeeease?"
He thought it over for a minute or two, "And your little friend won't interfere with your practice while she's here?"
"No."
"Well..." a little smile crept across my coach's face, "I don't see why not."
"Yay!" I threw my arms around him, "Thanks, Coach!"
"Only if she behaves herself," he stipulated, "One toe out of line from either one of you and we'll never do this again."
"She will, Celestino," Gene promised, "Sophie's a good girl."
"You know her, too?"
"She's my daughter," he explained, "She asked Violet the other night at dinner and I honestly thought she forgot about it."
"No," I squeaked, "Of course not. Sophie and I are buddies at this point. I love her like she was my own."
"She loves you, too," Gene chuckled, "I tucked her in last night and she asked me if I knew if she'd get to skate with you yet."
"Looks like the answer's yes," I kicked my skates off, "But I don't think I'd be able to take her today. My feet are killing me."
"Poor baby," Celestino empathized, "No one said you had to come here right after your dance lessons."
"I did, though," I threw them in my bag and slipped my flats on, searching my pockets for my phone, "Hey, Gene, can you wait a second before you come out? I need to make a quick call."
"Go ahead," Gene allowed, "I'll be out there in a minute."
"Thank you!" I winged my bag over my shoulder and started heading out, "See you tomorrow, Coach!"
"Bye, Violet!" I stepped outside and around the corner into the alley. Last night, I was told to call as soon as I was done. Something tells me he'd be pissed if I didn't. I scrolled through my contact list until I reached the M's.
Ring...
Ring...
"Hi there, sweetheart," a warm voice rumbled on the other end.
"I missed you, Master," I bit my lip.
"I miss you, too, Violet," Mike awed, "Are you all done?"
"Yes, sir."
"I'm sending a car for you," he told me, "You want to call that raincheck for breakfast?"
"Sure," I agreed, "I'll see you soon."
"I'll be waiting..."
Click.
"Hey, Vi," Gene came out, "You done yet?"
"Yeah," I tossed my phone in my bag, "I said it'd be quick."
"Thank you, by the way," he smiled, "For doing that for Sophie."
"Any time," I gushed, "I wasn't lying. I absolutely adore your daughter. She's the best of my boys in a little girl. How could I not? And now, she gets to skate with me."
"I can't wait to tell her," Gene was about to come out of his skin, "She's going to freak. You don't happen to have a pair of skates for her, do you?"
"She's never skated before?"
"Not once," he admitted, "But she's always wanted to."
"What size shoe does she wear?" I chuckled under my breath.
"Thirteen, I think..."
"I have a pair of Yurio's old skates she can use," I assured, "I got her."
"Good," Gene leaned up against the brick building, "If she didn't get to go, she'd kill me."
"A lot of rinks have rental skates, too," I pointed out, "But God only knows whose feet those have seen. The only one with these you have to worry about is Yurio and that kid is pretty well taken care of. His feet aren't diseased."
"Awesome."
A black town car pulled up in front of us and a man stepped out of the driver's seat, "Excuse me. Ms. Plisetsky?"
"Yeah?" Gene stepped in front of me, keeping me blocked.
"Um..." the driver wasn't sure what to make of Gene. He didn't look like Ms. Plisetsky, "Mr. Holloway sent me for you."
"Vi?" Gene glanced over his shoulder, "Is he legit?"
"Yeah," I stepped out from the giant wall keeping me safe, "It's cool, Gene. I'm going to Mike's. I just got off the phone with him. He did send this for me. I'll be fine."
"You sure?" he was still a bit skeptical.
"I'm sure," I swore, "Go on. I'll let you know the next time I leave anywhere and need you."
"Ok," Gene wrapped his arms around me tight, "Be careful, ok?"
"Ok." The driver got the door for me and the two of us took off. At this point, I was just glad to sit down. My poor little feet have been through more than what they deserve today. All because of my stupid surge of energy. On the plus side, though, I did just get in a hell of a practice run. I crushed my dance lessons. Now, I was on my way for breakfast with Mike. Life was good. Although, I'd love to know why the hell we were on the Upper East Side.
The driver stopped in front of a building that was definitely too rich for my blood. Even after living with Victor "actual high maintenance bitch" Nikiforov for as long as I did, he wouldn't take me to places like this. He knew they made me uncomfortable. I was fresh off a high energy practice and in dire need of a shower and Mike has me brought here? There has to be a method to his madness somewhere in this mess. Either that or he doesn't realize how gross I get after practice.
"Ms. Plisetsky," a woman ushered me inside. She was kind of pushy, "Please. Right this way."
"Ok," I stumbled my own two feet, still confused and horribly out of my element. Come on, Mike. What was I doing here? I thought we were just getting breakfast.
"Our restaurant is just upstairs," she explained, taking me into an elevator. It's times like these where I missed having Gene around. Just in case, "However, there is a dress code and as of right now, you are far from meeting it."
"Sorry," I winced. I mean, that was kind of rude, but I am on her territory, "I just got in the car. It brought me here. I had no say in it."
"Mr. Holloway has chosen something for you," she giggled a little, "No need to worry. There's also a bathroom with a shower waiting for you whenever you're ready. If you'd like, we could go there first."
"Absolutely." Wow. Mike did think of everything. I should give him more credit. The woman opened the door for me to this studio apartment that looked awfully comfortable. Plain, simple, but comfortable. Clothes were laid out on the bed just for me. Mental note. Thank Master once I finally get around to seeing him.
The bathroom matched the rest of the apartment. Just as simple as the rest of the place. I didn't care about that too much. All I wanted was the layer of sweat off my skin. Even if this place was too fancy for me, I still needed to blend in to survive. They didn't need to smell the girl I used to be on me. Although over the years I've been fortunate to live a certain kind of lifestyle, I was still the girl Victor met all those years ago, dancing at the burlesque club and occasionally escorting on the side.
Once I turned on the shower, all of that melted away and went down the drain. This was nice. This was very nice. The shower head found spots that I never thought I had and sent my head into a whirlwind. Yes...Thank you, Master. You know how to spoil a girl, don't you? As I got lost in my shower, I let my mind wander. I wonder what Mike's got planned for this morning. I didn't care as long as I was getting breakfast. After a practice like that, I'm starving. Another flat white would hit the spot.
When I got out, it broke my heart a little. I'm going to miss you, shower. The one at Mike's penthouse was just as good, though. I'll be fine. On the vanity, an assortment of lotions and perfumes were lined up and grouped by smell. I could be cheeky and use the vanilla ones for the not so vanilla man upstairs. But I was partial to the lavender myself. Why not?
Not only were there a plethora of lotions for me to choose from, but the makeup selection was top notch, too. This damn near rivaled what I'd take with for competition. While it's here, I might as well use it, too. Besides, after I got out of the shower, I looked hella splotchy. And I had no eyes. Nothing too over the top, though. A little foundation, a little winged eyeliner, a little gloss and I was good.
I unzipped the garment bag on the bed to find a white chiffon dress on the inside. Huh. I see Master is feeling a little cheeky this morning. When we go to Cosmos and I'm in white, that's the universal symbol for purity and innocence and a target on my bag for demonstration or to dance in the cage. Just to get people a little riled up. After what went down last night, I wouldn't think he'd see me as so innocent. But what the hell, right?
Besides, I looked adorable. Always did when I looked innocent. Then, I saw the remaining item in the bag. A dark blue box that was yet another universal symbol in Cosmos. The one that would say not to touch me because I belonged to another. Even though I understood I wasn't a piece of property, Mike and I had an understanding that I wouldn't sleep around. And my pretty black choker with the amethyst stone hanging from it would let others know that just as well. I slipped on the black flats left for me and headed out the door.
"You look adorable, Ms. Plisetsky," my hostess stood outside the apartment door, "Mr. Holloway is a lucky man."
"Thank you," I smiled, "And where is he?"
"He's waiting for you," she led me back to the elevator and took me all the way to the top.
Damn. When she said this place had a dress code, she wasn't joking. It looked like one of those places I would pass by on the way to work and stare up at, wondering if I'd ever be allowed in. This was one of those places where New York's elite would be hiding, getting into scandal, what have you. They'd smell the poor on me and turn me away at the door. But that was also before Victor and Chris practically adopted me and I had to use my body to pay my bills. I still use my body to pay my bills, just not as explicitly. It made me wonder who Mike was on his knees for to get into this place.
"There you are, sweetheart," Master extended his hand to me, "I was wondering where you were. You had me worried."
"I'm sorry," I bit the inside of my cheek, "It's been a little overwhelming this morning."
"Thank you," he sent my new friend off and offered me my seat, "Good morning, my little pet. How are you?"
"A little achy," I drank half my water already, "And seriously caught off guard. When you said breakfast, I thought we'd be going back to your penthouse."
"Sue me," Mike shrugged, "I wanted to treat my girl like the princess she is."
"Well," I instantly turned red, "Don't you think this is a little much?"
"Oh, Violet, Violet, Violet," he sighed out, "Get used to this kind of thing. If I want to spoil you, I will without hesitation and without warning. I like to keep you on your toes and keep you guessing. It keeps our relationship interesting."
This man really was a sadist, wasn't he? Nevertheless, I guess I'd have to learn to live with it, "Alright."
"Also," Mike mashed his foot over mine, sending a twinge of pain up my leg, "I go through all this trouble and this is how you repay me? Back talk? I'm almost insulted."
"I'm sorry," I cringed, clawing into the arms of my chair, "Thank you, Master. Please let up on my foot. I had a long practice today and my feet already hurt."
"And?" he asked, easing up on me, "How did you do?"
"Really well," I rested them on the legs of the table, "I didn't miss a jump."
"That's my girl," Master praised, "I'm so proud of you."
"But," I went on, "I'm sore as hell. It's days like this where I miss Sasha terribly."
"Who's Sasha?"
"He was my regular masseuse when I was still living in Russia," I hid a smile from him, keeping the particulars of our visits to myself. I miss Sasha.
"He?" Mike got territorial.
"Yes," I settled him, "But there was never anything romantic between us."
"Well," the vein receded into his forehead, "Maybe after breakfast, we can take care of that, yeah? How does that sound?"
"Fantastic," I swooned. Mike's hands had some sort of magical powers. Any time they were on me, I knew I was in for a ride.
"Excuse me, Mr. Holloway," a waiter joined us with a small tower of various pastries, "Can I get you anything else?"
"A flat white and three shots of espresso," he ordered.
"Yes, sir." With a quick bow, he was off to bring him a liquid heart attack. Although, given that he's ordered my usual poison of choice (that I damn near had an immunity to, so it won't kill me), I'm hoping that's for me.
"Violet," Mike began, "I think you and I need to talk."
"Ok," I felt my stomach bunch up, "What about it?"
"I want you to..."
"Here we are, sir," our waiter returned with what Mike asked for, "One triple shot flat white."
"Thank you," he shooed him away again, a little pissed he got cut off. Master didn't like it when he got cut off like that, "Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted, I want you to start cutting out caffeine."
"Wait," I jumped, my heart stopping, "Why?"
"If you cut out caffeine," Master explained, "You'll feel tired sooner. Do you know how amazing our sessions would be if you're delirious? Since you'd be so out of it mentally, all of your other senses would kick into overdrive. The sensations I could put you in would send you through the ceiling in the best way. I promise."
"But," I could feel my heart break in two, "I kind of have a physical dependency on it."
"I know it'll be hard," he empathized, taking my hand, "But I know you can do it. I've seen you do so many other incredible things. This won't be that big of a problem, right?"
"I don't know..."
"Violet," Mike rested his foot on top of mine under the table, "Are you sure about that? It's nothing but a little mental trickery. It can be done."
Yeah. With a miracle and a prayer. But because of the threat to my foot looming overhead, all I could do was nod, "Ok. I can do it."
"That's my girl." Is this the part where Morgan Freeman, in his narration of my life as per my daydreams, comes in and says that she, in fact, could not do it? Because my life without caffeine seems like an endless hell that I don't deserve.
I needed a quick distraction. Something that'll keep me from crying over the loss of my favorite little helper, "So, of all the places in town, why did you pick here for us to have breakfast?"
"I've been coming here for years," Mike spun the tale, "It was one of those places I'd go to all the time when I was younger. My mother met with a lot of her clients here. At least she said they were clients. But when I was little, I was completely enthralled by the view. Can't really go wrong. It's always been very special to me and I wanted to share it with someone equally as special."
"Well," I could see where he was coming from. There was something oddly settling about being above the city, "Thank you, Master."
"You're welcome, sweetheart," he gave me a little smile, "Maybe we can go somewhere special to you some day. I'm in the mood for a trip."
"When?" I wondered.
"I don't know," he shrugged, "Got any plans for this weekend? We can leave tonight and be back by Monday."
"No can do," I turned him own, "I got plans for this weekend. And probably next weekend, too."
"Excuse me?" Master perked up, gently tapping my foot, just enough to let me know he's there, "And what's keeping you from me not one weekend, but two?"
"My sons," I got defensive, "I'm sorry, but they come first. Even before our time together. They'll be staying with me for the next week starting tomorrow. I'll be handling their schedules and my own, so chances are, we won't be seeing much of each other for a week until they go back."
"Well then," he finished his flat white as a giant middle finger to me, "We shouldn't waste any more time, should we? Let's go make the most of what little we have left."
"Ok." He's pissed. I could feel it in the air. Master was not happy with me. Let him take it out on me, but I'm sorry. My boys are my top priority. Always. If he's really going to get jealous of my children, that's his problem. I'll give him what he wants in due time, but until Chris and Victor come back, Master can't monopolize my time.
A/N: Here's where it's going to start getting a little dirty…
After a long, quiet ride back to Mike's penthouse, he carried me into his bedroom, laying me down on the bed, "Violet, strip. Everything but your collar. And I guess you can keep your panties on. For now anyway."
"Yes, Master," I pulled the zipper on my dress and let it puddle at my feet.
"On the bed, face down," he demanded, "Do you know what we're about to do? Because this isn't going to be like our other play sessions."
"No, sir," I did as I was told, "What are we doing?"
"You did say you were sore," Mike kneaded his hands into my back, sending me to such a delightful place, "I told you, Violet. I can take care of you as long as you let me."
I bit down hard into the pillows, suppressing the loud moan wanted to escape my throat, "Thank you, Master."
"Better than the Sasha guy you used to see?" That's weird. If I didn't know any better, I'd think Mike's jealousy has only gotten worse since we left. Maybe he's got a praise kink. That's a thing, isn't it? I think Chris ran me through that. No. He's too dominating to have a praise kink. But I could stand to throw him a bone.
"So much better," I let out a heavy, breathy sigh, "You know, this used to be a regular occurrence for me. At least once a month."
"What made you stop?" Mike started kissing up my spine. Intense tingles shot through my body.
"I wasn't going to take advantage of Victor like that anymore," I admitted, "Once the ink was dry on our divorce papers, I didn't want him to think he still had to take care of me like that."
"And he doesn't," he growled in my ear, digging deeper into muscle aches I didn't know I had, "I do. You spend a lot of time with...Victor, don't you?"
"Not like I used to," I felt a strange ache in my chest. I missed my best friend. There was no doubt about that.
"That's right," Master climbed on top of me, "Like I said, pet. I can take care of you as long as you let me. You don't have to rely on him anymore. That's what you have me for. You like when Master takes care of you, don't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"You don't need anyone else, do you?" he pushed harder.
"No, sir." Holy hell, he was jealous. Of my boys. Of Victor. I wonder if he knew I knew Chris, too. Apparently, he's been there and done that, too.
"That's my girl," Master whispered in my ear, "My girl. And mine alone, right? My pet wouldn't stray, would she?"
"No, sir."
"Good," he praised, petting me gently, "Can I take you now, Violet?"
"Yes, sir." He made a very compelling case. Saying no to Master was nearly impossible when it came to sex. If he'd stop being so damn good at it, I'd be able to resist it a little better. But because as of lately, my brain has become the bitch of my hormones, I can't flip the off switch as easily as I used to. And because we wouldn't be seeing each other for a while, Master wasn't holding back. It wasn't long after we were done that I curled up on the bed in our aftermath and dozed off.
A/N: Holy mother of God, I wasn't expecting this chapter to be so long. To be honest, I got most of it done Saturday when I was all kinds of jacked up. I don't know if it was a serious caffeine buzz, but it made me hella productive. And I liked it. Hence the early update today. Last week, Victor was all worried about Violet's priorities. If she's got to say it until she's blue in the face, her boys will always come first. Especially the littlest one. She doesn't think he gets enough love. The kind he needs anyway. The not over the top kind like Chris and Victor try to give him when they do give him the time of day. But! I'm going to keep this caffeine fueled train going and get some more done today. See you next chapter! xx