The Pleasure's All Mine: Memoir of a Professional Submissive (18 page)

    I knew things were moving really fast, and that the conservative approach would be to at least talk to Catherine before answering. I also knew that my gut feelings had so far proven more reliable in my life than other people’s opinions. If I had to learn to weather the downsides of this business — like slow times, crushes that couldn’t be returned, and the occasional lame client — it seemed only right that I should take full advantage of the upside. Right now that upside was standing in front of me, holding out a virtual plane ticket with lodging in her sensually talented hands.

    “Is there anything in particular I should bring with me? I’ve never been to New York City before.”

    

    

    
THE FIRST THING
I noticed, and liked, about being in New York City was the smell. Actually, it was the smell of the ride between Newark airport and Manhattan that first got me — a mixture, like the landscape, of concrete/metal/industrial stuff and of lush green trees, of forests even. It was everything I had not grown up with in the suburbs of Los Angeles: real city and real country both.

    I was supposed to meet K at her hotel in SoHo, and she was going to take me down the street to the little studio apartment she’d rented for me for three nights. She had found it through an agency in New York that specialized in short-term sublets. When I got off the plane, I’d found a voice mail from her saying that she would be in session until a little later than my arrival time, but had left the keys for me in an envelope at the front desk of her hotel. When the driver let me off at the intersection of Prince and Mercer, I got a look at the street and had to suppress the urge to clutch my heart and say
Awww.
The ground beneath my feet was more cobblestone than dark pavement.

    The lobby of the Mercer Hotel opened into the hotel’s bar and restaurant, which was noisy and full even at this early hour. The clock behind the front desk clerk said it was five thirty p.m. When I opened the envelope K had left for me, it contained a little hand-printed map to my place, two keys, and a note that said she would come find me around six. It also contained two hundred and fifty dollars in cash. The note said nothing about the money, and I wondered if it was an advance on the session we’d be doing, or a short term loan since she knew I was pretty broke. Whatever it was, it felt like a windfall. Although K was younger than me by a few years, I had started thinking of her as my fairy godmother.

    The little sublet was dreamy — one big room plus a bathroom, with a little slash of a kitchen off to one side near the front door. The bed was high and covered in soft sheets and an afghan; the middle of the room was decked out like a bona fide
parlor
of all things, with a small liquor stand near the stiff old couch and art deco coffee table. The entire kitchen took up just slightly more space than my writing desk at home, with a vintage Sears refrigerator that was about fifty percent narrower than normal but still a good five inches taller than me — kind of like the women I’d seen between K’s hotel and this apartment building.

    Before I could get my shampoo and make-up neatly laid out in the tiny, clean bathroom, my cell phone rang. Fifteen minutes later, I had booked two spanking sessions for the following day and night at a local dungeon that allowed visiting pros to rent from them by the hour. Both the clients were regulars at the place, and had booking privileges with the receptionist. I wouldn’t have to do anything but call the next day on my way over to confirm. My phone rang a third time, and I was about to ask the caller to try me again the next morning when I recognized the number as K’s.

    

    

    “Welcome to the city! How do you like your place?”

    K smiled and raised her water glass at me. She had met me outside the apartment building and steered us toward a cozy Italian restaurant a little after six, as promised.

    “It’s so cute. Thank you! This whole little neighborhood is great. I love New York so much already!” I whispered excitedly, not wanting the people at nearby tables to think I was a geeky tourist.

    K laughed. “You’re welcome. I’m so glad you like it. I thought you would. I stayed there during my last trip. My client was thinking about getting me an ongoing sublet instead of continuing to stash me at the Mercer, since my trips are getting longer each time.”

    “The Mercer’s gorgeous,” I said, still impressed by its understated elegance, but secretly pleased that I was in the unintimidating little sublet with its view of the tree-lined street below.

    “You’re welcome to come by any time,” K said. I’ll be out a lot doing sessions, so you can either come to the room and order room service or you can come over to the restaurant whenever you’re hungry and charge it to my account.”

    “Wow, that’s really kind of you, but I know that’s expensive — plus I think I can manage off the money you left me. Which I want to thank you for, by the way,” I said.

    She waved her hand, as if I were making a big deal out of her loaning me a quarter for a phone call.

    “So, I mean, can I pay you back from the money I make while I’m here? I already have two sessions lined up for tomorrow,” I offered.

    “No. There’s no paying it back. It’s for you.”

    The look on her face was like I’d seen on my dad’s and his friend’s faces when they used to fight bitterly over who was going to pick up the check at dinner. They would literally get furious with each other over the right to be generous every single time. I never understood why people got genuinely mad at each other because of an equal desire to treat each other nicely, but I knew I didn’t want to get into such a struggle with K. Aside from not wanting to annoy her, I also really liked the feeling of being taken care of so thoroughly. I felt like I’d been barely succeeding in taking care of myself at home, what with still struggling to get my new business off the ground.

    “Thank you, then, again.”

    K shook her head once, quickly, while staring into her water glass. A few seconds of awkward silence followed. I began to worry that I had insulted her, despite my best efforts not to. The only thing I could tell for sure was that it would be a great idea to change the subject.

    “So I have two people who want to see me tomorrow, one in the afternoon and one at night. You’d said things would be pretty flexible with your guy, but I wanted to see if I should set aside any time in particular.”

    I would only be in town for three nights, including this one, and didn’t want to book myself out of being able to see the one person who’d made it possible for me to come here in the first place.

    “He actually had to leave town. I just saw him for the last time this afternoon, so go ahead and schedule whatever else you want,” she said without elaborating.

    “Oh.”

    I was confused and also a little disappointed. I had thought we were going to do at least a couple hours of session time with him. I had been looking forward to being in K’s hands again, and to the adventure of doing a double session with this man she seemed to have a particularly close professional relationship with. But there was something closed off in K’s expression now, and I could tell it would be better not to ask for an explanation.

    After dinner, K made me promise to check in with her every day, and to call her or come by her room if I needed anything, including just someone to talk to. She put her arm around my shoulder on the way out of the restaurant.

    “I know you have a good head on your shoulders, and this is a great town, I just don’t want you to be running around here without a safety net.”

    “Yes, Mother,” I said to tease her, but her fussing made me feel somehow sublimely protected and free at the same time.

    She hugged me good night like we were long-lost friends as we moved to go our separate ways on the street. I watched her for a few seconds as she glided away, her back straight, heels clicking briskly on the sidewalk. I half-expected to see her dissolve into a cloud of colorful sparkles and a small
ping!
before she made it to the next block.

    

    

    The dungeon was in a ten-story office building near the Empire State Building. I had to buzz an intercom from the lobby in order even to get on the elevator, let alone get off at the right floor — there were no call buttons in the lobby. The elevator wouldn’t go to the ground floor unless one of the building’s inhabitants sent it there. When I got in, the sixth-floor button was already lit up. Although it seemed obvious that it worked the same way for the other businesses here as well, I did think it was kind of a nice touch for a dungeon, imagining some all-powerful elevator goddess controlling the whole thing from above. Instead of opening onto a hallway, the small, slow car let me out into what was essentially a cage with a doorbell inside it. As the elevator doors closed behind me, I could see through the heavy screen door in front of me to a lobby with deep red walls and dark oak furniture. A severe-looking blond woman sat behind a desk and did not look up. I pressed the small button on the wall in front of me, and it rang loudly on the other side. The blond receptionist raised her head.

    “Yes?”

    “Hi, I’m Marnie, I have a couple of sessions booked here today?”

    The question in my voice irritated me. I had meant to arrive here all guarded and sure of myself, prepared for a similarly competitive environment as what I’d left behind at the Dominion.

    “Open the door when you hear the buzz.”

    I pulled the screen door open like she told me to and stood in front of her, waiting. Without looking at me or saying another word, the blond woman got up and vanished through an open door behind her desk.

    
Now, what?
I didn’t know if I was supposed to have a seat in one of the plush chairs facing the desk, follow her, or stand here at attention until further notice. Just as I was getting geared up to say a loud and accusatory
Hel-LO?
the receptionist re-appeared in the doorway with a pretty brunette woman behind her.

    “Hi Marnie, I’m Ava. We spoke on the phone this morning. Let me show you where you can change your clothes and keep your stuff.”

    She smiled as she walked toward me, putting a hand on my shoulder when she reached me.

    “Hi. Nice to meet you. Thanks for letting me rent here.”

    “You’re quite welcome. It’s pretty brave of you to come to Manhattan alone for sub sessions, I must say.”

    I shook my head. “Not brave at all, actually — a friend was really generous in bringing me here with her this time. Already I feel like I want to come back on my own, though.”

    I’d done a little research online and had only seen one other submissive who worked in New York at all, and it was only one week a month, when she took the train in from upstate. Her Web site said she saw clients at another one of the commercial dungeons in midtown, and did not meet people in hotel rooms. Although I hadn’t done so yet either, I certainly planned to. Not only were hotel rooms a turn-on for me ever since T, but I loved the idea of keeping all the money myself instead of having to pay a rental fee.

    “There are plenty of domme clients; you should do really well here,” Ava said as we walked back through that same open door into a softly lit hallway.

    As I followed her past a couple of closed doors and around a corner to a small room, I thought Ava was probably right. With no twenty-year-olds to compete with even at the “houses” out here, it seemed like I should be able to make a bundle. Maybe I could find out from K without being tacky just how much it had cost to bring me here this time. Ava ushered me in ahead of her.

    “This is my private dressing room and office. I thought you’d be more comfortable here than trying to find space for your stuff in the main staff room.”

    I was a little shocked that this woman who didn’t even know me was going to let me be alone in her private room. I wouldn’t have been shocked once she
had
known me, but to treat me with such trust and respect before she could have known it was safe was amazing, I thought. Secretly, I wanted to believe that, unlike Hillary, for example, Ava had taken one look at me and decided I was an honest person.

    “I have to get back to the books, but you can come find me or ask Mara at the desk if you need anything. The room you’ll be using for your session is right next door to this one, and you let us know if you need us to take any special safety measures. Otherwise, we’ll stay out of your hair.”

    Ava smiled again and closed the door behind her, leaving me in the slightly claustrophobic little room with its naked light bulb in the ceiling and shelf upon shelf of latex and leather clothing. There was a chair and makeup table with a large mirror on the wall in front of them. I set my things on the chair and leaned down to take off my shoes when the door opened again, barely missing my head.

    “Oh, sorry. Is this your room? I thought Mistress Ava had said I could change in here,” I said to the petite, lusciously curvy woman in the doorway. She had long, brown hair that hung in soft waves past her shoulders, and the sweetest face I’d ever seen on a domme, or maybe anywhere else.

    “I’m Mistress Lissette. Ava and I are co-owners. And yes, this is my room as well. But there’s no need for apology.”

    Her eyes widened slightly and she looked me pointedly up and down. She had a bit of an accent, but I couldn’t tell if it was French or Spanish.

    “Oh, okay. I’m Marnie, by the way, I’m renting space here,” I said, and held out my hand.

    “I know who you are, you little angel,” she purred, and took my hand in both of hers, clasping it warmly. “I know exactly who you are! You’re my birthday present.” She turned her head and called into the hallway behind her. “Look at you, the perfect size! Just what I wanted. Turn around, let me see the rest of my present,” she coaxed, her voice high in exaggerated anticipation.