Every woman’s sexual awakening is different, Matilda always said. Some are quick to occur, some slow, and a few, sadly, never really happen. S.E.C.R.E.T.’s mandate was simply to create the circumstances for an awakening, using fantasies to achieve it. That’s why for Solange’s Step Nine, it was decided that Will would learn how to let her dominate him. She was ready for that, Matilda said. That’s where all her previous steps seemed to be leading.
“I think when she returns from Paris, she’ll be feeling pretty assertive, more in command of her destiny. She’ll be ready to … take charge.”
My job was to train Will to submit without being submissive, an important distinction. And I was told I was perfect for the task since, like Solange, I was also new to this particular scenario.
Thankfully, Angela came by to give me some last-minute pointers, this scenario being a specialty of hers. Last year, she had trained my recruit, Mark Drury, in a session I got to monitor. So like her, I chose a white wraparound dress and high heels. She helped me pin my hair up on my head in a sexy, messy pile.
“It’s a red lipstick kind of night, Cassie,” she said, regarding me in the mirror.
“It is.”
“Nervous?”
“Very.”
“Good. That means it’ll be great,” she said, putting the finishing touches on my makeup. “Worry when you’re not nervous.”
She handed me a tangle of thick, red satin ribbons.
“Use these,” she said. “I have a feeling you’ll need to restrain him quite early in the session. And remember to enter that room like a boss. Handle that man like you own him. That’s Solange’s fantasy. Show him exactly how to let her.”
Oh right—Solange. I’m doing this for her.
I thanked Angela, giving in to a powerful urge to hug her. She let me for a long time, returning the warmth.
“Thank you,” I said, over her shoulder.
“Thank you,” she said, not one for a lot of mushiness. “He may very well be S.E.C.R.E.T.’s last recruit, Cassie. So teach him well, and make us proud.”
I nodded, surprised at how choked up I was suddenly. Last recruit. S.E.C.R.E.T. had given me so much. It was sad to imagine that it could end soon, that no other woman would benefit from everything this group had given me and taught me.
Equipped with my red ribbons, I walked—no, strutted—down the long, thick-carpeted hall of the Mansion’s East Wing. I pushed open the doors to the Games Room, chosen because it was bright and plush with a billiard table at one end and a large cozy sitting area at the other; I wanted Will to feel comfortable. The first thing I saw was my own reflection in the mantel mirror. I was shocked at the slash of red on my lips, the tumble of curls, the epic cleavage! It’s too much, I thought, covering my breasts with the ribbons. But the truth was that my breasts looked spectacular in this dress! And my shock was soon replaced with sheer delight. I stepped closer to the mirror, placing the ribbons on the mantel. The woman in the mirror was definitely a version of me, one of a few that S.E.C.R.E.T. had helped me uncover.
Turns out I was a multifaceted woman with layers and complexities and there were still more versions of me to discover. I was a widow and a waitress. I was a friend and an adventurer, a boss, a caregiver, a co-worker, a S.E.C.R.E.T. member, a business partner, a mentor, and a lover (a good one at that!). I was all of these things. And now I was this woman too—a trainer, a helper, a giver, a leader, a guide. But at the very core, I’d always be Cassie Robichaud, the girl from Michigan.
I heard the knocks. One, two, three …
I braced myself against the purple velvet divan in front of the fireplace.
“Come in,” I croaked.
The door opened and there stood my Will, a man who knew every version of me, now including this one. But here was another version of Will, too, at first a nervous version who, while taking me in head to toe, seemed to become a gob-smacked teenager.
“Holy shit, Cassie!” he said, slapping his chest. “Look at you. You look so … I don’t even know what to say … except wow.”
I fought off the urge to grin and blush. I had to remember I was training him to be dominated—“without feeling emasculated,” Angela stressed.
“Thank you, Will, that’s very sweet to hear,” I said before turning stern. “But I need you to go back outside and try that again, okay? This time you have to be … you have to hold back a bit. Smolder. Try to forget it’s me. Try not saying anything at first. Just take me in. Let it kind of wash over you.”
Wow. I said all of that, and he listened so intently I almost climbed over the divan to grab his face and kiss it, he was that cute.
“Smolder. Okay. I got it,” he mumbled, exiting the room and quietly shutting the door behind him.
I waited for the knock. And I waited. And I waited. Ten seconds later, I heard his voice through the door.
“Cass? Am I supposed to knock again?”
“Yes, Will!” I yelled. “Knock again.”
“Knock and come in? Or knock and wait for you to answer the door this time?”
“Just knock and enter!”
“I don’t know if I can enter and smolder. I’m wondering if it might be more … uh … smoldery if you answered the door and I’m just, like, standing here. Smoldering.”
He yelled all of this through the door crack and I wondered how many people in the Mansion were listening and giggling, because I could barely contain myself.
“Will, just come in, okay? We can skip the smoldering entry.”
He whipped the door open and stepped in, his face flushed. “Sorry about that. Maybe I can work on that at home. Where do you want me?”
“Why don’t you come sit here and just … try to relax,” I said, indicating the blue velvet armchair next to the divan. I was surprised at how calm I sounded, how soothing my voice was, how I seemed to exude competence, how goddamn sexy I felt.
As he crossed the room, I stood with one fist on my hip, the other arm hanging casually at my side, my breasts lifting ever so slightly with my breath. Will made his way to the armchair, never taking his eyes off my dress, my breasts, my face. As he got closer, he looked like he was experiencing a kind of warm remembrance, his whole body easing up. That’s it, I wanted to say. That’s how you do it. But I didn’t want to make him self-conscious.
“Here?” he asked, pointing to the chair, eyebrow up.
“There,” I said.
He lowered himself, his legs parting slightly. Cocking his head, he regarded me with something like bemused pride.
Yes. Finally he was getting it.
Now it was my turn.
I took a few steps towards him, teetering ever so slightly in my heels, until I was almost standing between his legs. I am doing this, I thought. I bent forward, placing my hands on the arms of the chair.
“So, Mr. Foret,” I whispered, bringing my glossy lips to within inches of his. “How shall we play today?”
I saw him squirm, his Adam’s apple rise and fall.
“I’m happy to do whatever you think is best.”
His right hand automatically rose to touch my breasts. I sprung upright, realizing exactly why Angela was right. The restraints were the only way to go. I couldn’t have Will’s hands on me. To let that happen was to lose control of the session. And myself. I turned and walked to the mantel for the red satin ribbons, then returned to Will, who was now anxiously massaging the arms of the chair.
“With your permission … these will help you concentrate better,” I said.
He watched with fascination as I bent to secure him to the chair. Around and around I wrapped his arms, tying the ribbons not too tight, not too loose, avoiding eye contact, but the heat off his body, his breath on my shoulder as I leaned over, was almost too much to bear.
“Do I have to tie your ankles to the legs of the chair or do you think you can manage to keep them still?”
“I … I think I can manage,” he said, tugging slightly to test the binding around his arms.
I took a step back and looked down at him, desire building inside me like a small storm.
Locking eyes with him, I took my fingers and traced the crisscrossing lines of the wrap dress, down to the side knot. Will watched my fingers and made a small sound in his throat as I worried the knot free and let the dress drop open. Beneath it I was naked.
“Cassie,” he said, almost involuntarily. “I—”
“Shh! It’s not your turn to speak.”
I shrugged the dress off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor; I was naked, my taut breasts before him, my nipples sensitive and alert.
Will took a long inhale, and I watched him grow erect through his jeans, both our eyes following the movement. I bent forward, placing my hands on his forearms, and agonizingly lowered myself to my knees before him. I brought my face to his bound hand, rubbing across it like a cat, keeping my eyes on his eyes, noticing how his hands twitched, longing to touch my hair. Then I took his index finger deep into my mouth, calmly encircling it, sucking it hard. He threw his head back and let out a low groan, that signaled this was all too much, that just me sucking his finger was already killing him.
I let my other hand travel up his leg and firmly across his thigh until it was over his erection. Then I rubbed through the denim until his eyes registered an aching disbelief at this great, great fortune. I untucked his shirt, undoing it one button at a time, spreading both sides back to see his beautiful torso, which wasn’t as cut as it had been while he was doing the renovations, but I loved how this added layer bulked him up, made him seem more manly and vulnerable at the same time. I let my hands linger across his pecs, moving them over his skin the way you touch something you might only get to hold once.
“Your hands on me, Cassie, feels so …”
“Shh. Don’t say anything, Will.” I brought my mouth in front of his. He lurched forward to kiss me but I thwarted his attempt. Not yet, I thought, I need to be stronger.
I worked the buttons of his jeans until they were all undone. He lifted for me as I used some muscle to pull them down and off his legs. His beautiful cock pillowed out of his boxers and unfurled into my warm, ready hands. Bringing my face to it I rubbed it across my cheeks, all the while watching his reaction. I could feel him thrust slightly, lifting himself towards my face, wanting, aching for some relief, for me to take him in my mouth.
“Fuck, I can’t,” Will moaned.
“You can’t what, baby?” I teased, the tiny tip of my tongue circling the opening of his hard cock.
“I can’t handle not being able to touch you,” he said, twisting in the chair.
“You’re doing a fine job, Will. In fact, I’m going to give you a reward.”
I reluctantly let go of his erection and stood before him, letting my hand travel down to tease myself.
“Do you want to see what you do to me, Will?”
“Oh god, yeah, please,” he said, his eyes on my fingers.
I kicked off my heels, and in the manner of the beautiful Angela, I lifted my foot and placed it on Will’s naked thigh. Lazy smile on my face, I let my thigh fall open so he could watch me circle and thrust into myself, my own finger a substitute for everything he wanted to be doing to me, my clit so hard and fat I winced at this new level of pleasure.
“Do you want to kiss it, Will?”
He nodded, his eyes ablaze. When he brought his mouth closer, I guided him by the chin, the feel of Will’s mouth on me like flashes of heat and fireworks, and as he licked me hungrily, gorgeously, I ran my fingers through his thick hair, feeling something akin to joy. I pulled his face closer, deeper. It took everything in me not to throw my head back and let this man make me come hard. But Matilda’s words rattled in my head: You can’t keep him. After you train him, you have to let him go. Just before I felt the build deepen, I saw it, I saw Will, I saw him doing this with Solange, to Solange. I saw my Will making Solange go mad with desire. That scene flashed before my eyes, and I gasped, pulling away, stepping just out of Will’s reach to catch my breath, instinctively covering my breasts with my hands.
Will lunged, bringing the chair a few inches with him.
“Don’t go away from me, Cassie, don’t. I have to touch you. This doesn’t feel real if I can’t touch you. Please untie me. I need to feel your skin …”
I looked at him helplessly bound like that, his shirt flapping open, his erection heavy across his taut thigh, his lips glistening with me.
“I can’t, Will,” I said, feeling the moment slide away and the tears stinging the corners of my eyes. “I can’t do this. Not with you. I’m sorry.”
I ran to him. My fingers shook as I untied him, and his head hung in quiet disappointment.
“Don’t apologize, Cassie,” he said softly, as I liberated each of his arms.
Before I could dress and flee, he stood and looped one of his arms around my waist, pulling me hard to him. I squirmed. He gently tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear.
“Don’t ever apologize to me again, Cassie.”
“I feel so stupid for thinking that I could—”
“Can it be my turn to talk now?”
He took his thumb and rubbed what must have been smudged makeup off my cheek. Then he kissed my mouth, sweetly, firmly. Both arms now wrapped around my waist, he held me so tightly he squeezed the tears right out of me.
“I feel like an idiot. This was supposed to be sexy. It wasn’t supposed to end in tears.”
“Um, believe me, Cassie, that was … what you did, that was … seriously sexy.”
He kissed my forehead.
“Do you think you learned enough?”
“For what?”
“To pull off the fantasy?”
“Right. The fantasy. Well, this is no criticism of you, Cassie, because you’re a great teacher. But I’m a lousy student. So I don’t think I was able to learn enough to successfully graduate to full-fledged fantasy man.”
“No?”
“No. So you’re going to have to bench me, unless I can get some more training. Maybe there’s some special tutorial session for dummies. Do you guys do that here?”
“I could ask,” I said, realizing his joke.
“ ’Cause I’m really no one’s idea of a fantasy man.”
“Well … you are mine.”
He kissed me for that, once, twice.
“So what happens to us S.E.C.R.E.T. rejects? Do you have to kill me or something?”
“Yes, unfortunately.”
“Can we at least have sex one last time?”
“Yeah, but not here,” I said, looking around. “It’s beautiful, this place, but I want you to take me home.”
Before I could finish my sentence, he flung my dress at me and gathered up his pants. We dressed faster than a couple of firemen called to a five-alarm emergency. He extended his hand and in one swift move threw me over his shoulder, and I kicked and laughed as he carried me down the hallway and out the front door of the Mansion.
It was the last time I’d set foot in that place for several months. And even then, I wouldn’t be alone. We’d both return, for a different kind of fantasy altogether.
The truth came out that night in bits and pieces, between sex and kisses, between bites of pizza and a bottle and a half of wine we took from the restaurant and drank while sitting on my kitchen floor, where we had sex one more time before the sun came up. We both knew we’d be wrecked the next day, but two of us hobbled by hangovers had to add up to at least one stellar restaurateur.
He came out with it first.
“It’s been awful not having you in my life, Cassie. And by life I mean my heart, my side, my bed. So I had secretly hoped this would happen. That’s the real reason I volunteered with S.E.C.R.E.T. I meant everything I said before about the good I think the organization does. I was wrong before. But I hoped I’d either make you jealous if we didn’t get paired up, or make you crazy for missing me if we did.”
“So you were never going to go through with the fantasy?”
“Well, let’s put it this way: I wouldn’t have gone through the training with anyone else, and I knew I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else if the training was going to be with you.”
“Mission accomplished,” I said, leaning on his shoulder. “I was surprised you volunteered with S.E.C.R.E.T. I thought the whole thing disgusted you. I thought I disgusted you.”
“You’ve never disgusted me. The truth is more embarrassing than that. I felt … threatened. I was an idiot.”
Will threw his arm around me and pulled me closer. My hand slid down his warm, familiar stomach, then farther down, and I softly cupped my hand over him, making him erect again.
“I thought you were dating up a storm. I thought you were happy. And then when I discovered your … I don’t want to call it a ‘secret life’ … my first thought was not What a slut, but I can’t compete. I couldn’t take being dumped again for a better guy, for someone more … I don’t know … powerful, I guess. You saw Carruthers. His watch is the size of a fucking six-pack. You saw the car he drove, the job he has. Guys pay attention to that shit—the things we aren’t, the stuff we don’t have. I may not have been madly in love with Tracina, but I was geared up to be her partner and a parent and a provider, and when I was thrown over for Mr. Fucking Big, it hurt. I mean, you know me. I struggle. Then your boyfriend with the great left hook shows up and does what I should have done to fucking Castille. He stepped up when I should have.” He paused. “By the way, are you still seeing him? That Jesse guy?”
Dixie came over and nestled between us like a fur island.
“No. We’re just friends. We’ve really always been just friends.”
“You’re not in love with him?”
“Never was. And he’s not in love with me. He loves someone else. And so do I,” I said, beginning my aching assault on his body.
The thing about Will was that he had no idea how sexy he was, which is precisely what made him so sexy, even when he struggled. Especially when he struggled. On the floor of my kitchen, we unspooled our legs from the sheets we’d dragged there, moving the cat over in a loving but firm way. Will laid me down on that floor at dawn and entered me again while kissing me, saying my name over and over, holding my face between his hands, while I clutched his gorgeous ass and pressed my knees back, opening myself to him, inviting him all the way inside.
While he thrust into me, reintroducing himself to my body, it felt like we’d never been away from each other. I shifted my hips and reached back to press the cupboard doors so I could arch for him. He felt so right, so perfect inside me, our bodies formed just for this.
“How’s this for a fantasy,” he whispered. “Sex with me on your kitchen floor.”
“This is the only fantasy I’ve ever really wanted. The only one I ever hoped would come true.”
