Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

I’m crossing the floor of the lobby, thinking about the ongoing groundworks of D-site and trying to decide whether to tackle the east or the west side first. I’m not truly paying attention to my surroundings.

“Morning, Kirstie.”

“Good morning Mr Alexanders.”

*Jab elevator panel*

Lay land drains first to the east side?

Enable access via the west?

Or wait for the circular route to connect from the bridge?

Where’s that damn lift?

…

…

Reverse mental gears….

Kirstie…

Too much make-up…

Swollen eyes…

Trying not to be too obvious about it, I turn to take a better look at her. Even from the rear…

… slumping in her seat…

Not like her…

The elevator bings, but I ignore it, strolling back to the desk.

“Kirstie, is everything alright?”

“I'm fine, Mr Alexanders. Thank you for asking.”

She's painted on her business face, but as she speaks, she doesn’t look at me, keeping her eyes turned down. One thing I like about Kirstie is that she looks you in the eye…

Usually…

I take her chin in thumb and forefinger. “I expect you to look at me when I speak, Ms Jamieson...” But I cut myself short. Under the makeup she's caked on, her eyes are puffy.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m fine.”

“No, you're not. You look terrible. Is it something I can help with?”

“No sir, it's... personal…”

I wait, giving her a silence to fill.

A flush rises up her neck, vanishing under the makeup line before it hits her face. “My sister, Erin is falling out with Ben....”

Not Ben again….

He really doesn't have the hang of people…

Why would that upset Kirstie so much?

“... so I have her crying on my shoulder and Ryan...” She stalls.

“Yes? Ryan…?”

Staring down at her desktop, “Nothing.”

a little longer, but no

if she doesn’t

I'll find a stand-in for you

rather be

“As you wish.”

*****

hour later, Francis pops her head around my office door. “James, I have Kirstie on from downstairs. She's asking if you could spare her a few minutes

Aaahhh…

wants

James.” Francis fixes a gimlet

to decide if I’m the

*****

a timid tap at my door. I

“Come in, Kirstie.”

you for making the

her. “Kirstie, we’re friends.

she nods, winding her

What now?

no fucking good at

at the beginning, whatever it is.”

Nope…

Wrong…

waving her across to the low

and gulps, then hoots into a handkerchief. I sit opposite her, pour the coffee,

Should I call Charlotte?

Kirstie

You're a Dom, Charlotte's Dom and... and there’s Michael of course. You always seem so happy together. And, well, you've been doing this

As she knows…

eyes slant up

How we met…

at the

you know the rules. How it works. You

“Get it?”

mean, you really understand

to see where this

Ryan…

I try a gentle prompt.

He... He thinks he's completely

you are not required to do anything you are unwilling to; that you haven't agreed to. That's not the rules of the game.

that and you know that, but Ryan...

in the relationship between a Dom and his

she nods.

he is requiring

“It's...” But

Crucified with embarrassment.

Kirstie? Or are

tears running furrows through what’s left of

Ah, fuck….

Weeping women…

Francis?

No…

and I met, there can't be too many taboos in what we can say to

she says, “He gets off on

the clubs are just right for him. He can

Parking lots, elevators. Places we could

if he's taking you too far, you

and her eyes red-rimmed, meet mine. “He gets

Shit…

that can't be used

there ever a time, maybe in your early days when…?” Her hand rises to her mouth as though cutting her