Read Online The Dom Project by Heloise Belleau, Solace Ames - Free Book Online
Authors: Heloise Belleau, Solace Ames
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make a buck, or any money at all. I only want to preserve your aunt’s contribution to history.”
“Contribution to history!” Al chortled. “Is that what they’re calling it now?”
“In my line of work, yes. That’s exactly what they’re calling it.”
“You can get a leather PhD nowadays,” added John. “Maybe you could go back to school. Start off with some credit for life experience.”
“ Eh , eh .” Al-slash-Alfred-slash-Steelhammer dropped her hand and bent nearly double, holding himself up with his hands on his knees. “I’ll think about the appraisal. Just can’t think straight right now—the COPD is literally fucking killing me.” He managed to rise a bit, enough to look directly into Robin’s eyes. “Give me another card and I’ll call you back.”
Robin dove her hand into her purse and quickly handed him another one.
John offered him an arm with a courtly flourish, but he shook his head and stumbled his way back into his house unaided.
* * *
John watched with reptilian anticipation as Robin squeezed her chopsticks too tightly...and there it went. The salty-sweet eel meat popped off the rice ball and fell down to her plate. He was lightning-fast. While she still fumbled with her own chopsticks, he snatched up the eel—he knew how much Robin loved eel—and swallowed it down with a grin.
“So who’s the vulture?” she asked indignantly. The mock exasperation in her crooked smile was desperately, hopelessly charming.
“I’ll make it up to you.” He picked up one of his soft-shell crab pieces and hovered it an inch from her lips.
“Well...” She opened her mouth.
He waited. He didn’t really know what he was doing, just operating on the impulse. But things usually worked out when he did that.
She sighed delicately, leaned forward and bit it off his chopsticks.
Jesus . He’d better turn this to business before his head exploded. Or his pants melted. “I think you’ve got a good chance at the collection.”
“Mmm. Yes. It’s so exciting. I was worried there, but thanks to you, it started coming together. Poor guy. My grandfather died of COPD and emphysema.”
Death. That helped. “I think he’s got some other health issues too.” John finished the last piece of sushi and washed it down with some Asahi Dry. “I should show you some younger pictures of him. You can find them yourself, now that you know the right name to look for. He was a god back in the 1970s, I hear. Still a legend.”
“It’s an interesting sexual minority connection,” Robin mused. “He’s sort of an heir.”
He leaned forward. “I’d love to hear your thoughts on that, especially since you’ll probably be writing it up at some point. And that reminds me, a whole new topic of conversation just opened between us. Something we have in common.”
“You’re right.” Her smile was bright and happy, and God, he loved making her feel that way. Then she frowned. “It also reminds me, you never really opened up about how you got into all this stuff. I thought you promised to tell me.”
“Being evasive comes naturally. You’ve met my parents.”
“Point taken. And I do appreciate that you’re good at being private. I mean, given my job—well, thanks for the text you sent about the video feed.”
“I’m always going to look out for you. Nothing’s ever going to change that.”
That smile again, halogen-bright, intense, fleeting.
Hello, readers,
Picky Submissive here, with news of a new feature starting on the blog. Last week, entirely by accident, I learned that my best friend—let’s call him J—is a dom. After telling him the various problems detailed here, he and I have devised an experiment... of sorts. The long and short of it is, he and I are best friends and compatible in nearly every aspect of our lives, so why not work together on the puzzle of my Pickiness?
It’s not about finding out if I’m a submissive—I know that already, right down
“Contribution to history!” Al chortled. “Is that what they’re calling it now?”
“In my line of work, yes. That’s exactly what they’re calling it.”
“You can get a leather PhD nowadays,” added John. “Maybe you could go back to school. Start off with some credit for life experience.”
“ Eh , eh .” Al-slash-Alfred-slash-Steelhammer dropped her hand and bent nearly double, holding himself up with his hands on his knees. “I’ll think about the appraisal. Just can’t think straight right now—the COPD is literally fucking killing me.” He managed to rise a bit, enough to look directly into Robin’s eyes. “Give me another card and I’ll call you back.”
Robin dove her hand into her purse and quickly handed him another one.
John offered him an arm with a courtly flourish, but he shook his head and stumbled his way back into his house unaided.
* * *
John watched with reptilian anticipation as Robin squeezed her chopsticks too tightly...and there it went. The salty-sweet eel meat popped off the rice ball and fell down to her plate. He was lightning-fast. While she still fumbled with her own chopsticks, he snatched up the eel—he knew how much Robin loved eel—and swallowed it down with a grin.
“So who’s the vulture?” she asked indignantly. The mock exasperation in her crooked smile was desperately, hopelessly charming.
“I’ll make it up to you.” He picked up one of his soft-shell crab pieces and hovered it an inch from her lips.
“Well...” She opened her mouth.
He waited. He didn’t really know what he was doing, just operating on the impulse. But things usually worked out when he did that.
She sighed delicately, leaned forward and bit it off his chopsticks.
Jesus . He’d better turn this to business before his head exploded. Or his pants melted. “I think you’ve got a good chance at the collection.”
“Mmm. Yes. It’s so exciting. I was worried there, but thanks to you, it started coming together. Poor guy. My grandfather died of COPD and emphysema.”
Death. That helped. “I think he’s got some other health issues too.” John finished the last piece of sushi and washed it down with some Asahi Dry. “I should show you some younger pictures of him. You can find them yourself, now that you know the right name to look for. He was a god back in the 1970s, I hear. Still a legend.”
“It’s an interesting sexual minority connection,” Robin mused. “He’s sort of an heir.”
He leaned forward. “I’d love to hear your thoughts on that, especially since you’ll probably be writing it up at some point. And that reminds me, a whole new topic of conversation just opened between us. Something we have in common.”
“You’re right.” Her smile was bright and happy, and God, he loved making her feel that way. Then she frowned. “It also reminds me, you never really opened up about how you got into all this stuff. I thought you promised to tell me.”
“Being evasive comes naturally. You’ve met my parents.”
“Point taken. And I do appreciate that you’re good at being private. I mean, given my job—well, thanks for the text you sent about the video feed.”
“I’m always going to look out for you. Nothing’s ever going to change that.”
That smile again, halogen-bright, intense, fleeting.
Hello, readers,
Picky Submissive here, with news of a new feature starting on the blog. Last week, entirely by accident, I learned that my best friend—let’s call him J—is a dom. After telling him the various problems detailed here, he and I have devised an experiment... of sorts. The long and short of it is, he and I are best friends and compatible in nearly every aspect of our lives, so why not work together on the puzzle of my Pickiness?
It’s not about finding out if I’m a submissive—I know that already, right down
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