The Exhibitionist (The Submissive 7)

“In about another hour you won’t need pajamas anyway,” he said, taking the box off the bed.

He was right, of course. It was a Friday night and he’d collared me a few hours ago. We were experimenting with lower protocol outside the playroom. A useful thing, since thus far our scheduled collar time had consisted of boxes, trying to get the kids to sleep, boxes, taking Apollo outside, and boxes.

“But I’d like to wear something comfortable until then,” I said, and then quickly added, “Sir.”

I needed a few hours in the playroom. Needed to let him take over and make all the decisions. I felt stressed and frazzled. When I got that way, there was one thing guaranteed to make it all better: kneeling at Nathaniel’s feet.

My phone buzzed with an incoming e-mail. I pulled my cell out of my pocket and sighed when I saw it was from Meagan, my boss. A few months ago, the blog I wrote detailing my submissive journey came to the attention of a large media network. They offered me a job writing content for the women’s sexuality section of their Web site, as well as posts about BDSM for their late-night talk show on women’s health. Occasionally, I’d also appear on the show to answer questions.

I scanned Meagan’s e-mail. The topic for Monday night’s live episode had been changed, thanks to a particularly virulent case of the flu hitting several of the guests scheduled to talk. That meant the blog post I’d prepared wouldn’t work.

“Damn,” I said. “I told her we were moving starting this weekend. A new post will take a ton of research. I don’t know how she expects me to fit four days of work into one.”

“Will you need to work tomorrow?” Nathaniel asked.

“At some point,” I said with a huff, rubbing my forehead. “Damn. Damn. Damn. Like I didn’t have five thousand other things to do, now I have five thousand and one.”

“Look at it this way, now you have an entire week’s work done for a future show.”

I sighed. “Since Linda’s watching the kids while we finish up packing this weekend, I really wanted to enjoy some alone time with you. Especially since tomorrow night will be our last night here.” Thank goodness for Nathaniel’s aunt. I wasn’t sure what we were going to do in Delaware without her.

A strange look crossed his face, surprise or maybe guilt. “It’s not our last night by any stretch of the imagination.”

I waved my hand. “You know what I mean,” I said, looking for another pair of pajamas.

“Abigail.”

I looked up.

“This will all work out. I have to go into the city tomorrow for work, and because my meeting is so late, I’ll spend the night.”

“What?” He was going to leave me with a half-packed house?

“I have a late meeting with Charlene. Linda will still get the kids, so you’ll have time to do your work.”

All the stress of the move suddenly mixed together with my irritation at having to rewrite the work I’d done, and Nathaniel’s late-night meeting with Charlene was the cherry on top of an ice-cream sundae of total crap.

“When were you planning on telling me?” I asked.

“I just found out this afternoon.”

“That woman has got some nerve setting up a meeting for our last weekend home, when I’m wearing your collar, and she knows we’re moving.” I crossed my arms. “It’s like she’s a mind reader and knows exactly what to do to piss me off.”

“Abigail.” His voice was a warning, but Charlene was like a trigger for me.

“Tell her you’ll meet her Monday night.”

“You’ll be at the station. And Linda can’t keep the kids then.”

I crossed my arms. “There has to be something you can do.”

“Oh, there is.” He spoke calmly, but we’d been married enough years for me to know he could conceal his anger behind a mask of calm.

“Then do it.”

His voice was low and soft when he spoke. “Kneel.”

His command caught me off guard, but one look at his tense expression let me know he meant business. I abandoned my search for pajamas and dropped to my knees.

“Just to make sure we’re both on the same page, are you currently wearing my collar?”

I swallowed. Damn it. Charlene had a way of getting me in trouble without even being here. “Yes, Master.”

“I know we’re experimenting with some lower protocol, but that does not give you free rein to speak however you wish. I know you have issues with Charlene. You have not made this a secret.”

Damn straight I haven’t made it a secret.

“This is after you have repeatedly stated that you trust my choice of employee and that you trust me around her. Isn’t that correct?”

“Yes, Master,” I admitted begrudgingly.

“Furthermore, why do you assume it was Charlene who set up the meeting?”

I didn’t have a response to that.

“I set up the meeting,” he continued. “She wanted to meet Monday night. I told her that wouldn’t work because you would be at the station and I knew the kids would be with Linda tomorrow and one of us needed to be home. I actually thought I was doing you a favor by giving you some time to yourself. I know this week has been hectic for you.”

“May I speak, Master?” It seemed prudent to slip back into higher protocol.

“Yes.”

“I appreciate the fact that you were thinking about me and wanted to give me some alone time tomorrow, and I understand why you didn’t want to meet with her on Monday night.” I paused, trying to formulate in my head how to word the next bit. “But you are also aware of how I feel about her, and it just raises the question, how did you think I’d react?”

“Have you or have you not told me you trust my choice of employee and you trust me enough to know I would never break my vows to you?”

My stomach sank as I picked up on where he was going. “Yes, Master. I’ve said that.”

“In fact, you’ve said that repeatedly. Correct?”

“Yes, Master.”

“That is why I thought you might have a different response.”

He was right, I’d told him that several times. But saying it was different from living it. “I’m sorry, Master.”

He was silent for several seconds. “I’m not sure what it’s going to take in order for you to understand that Charlene is not a threat to us. What is a threat is this jealousy that is completely unfounded. It makes you seem petty, and you’re not a petty person.”

He hadn’t asked a question, so I didn’t speak. I almost apologized again but changed my mind. He didn’t seem to be in a mood for multiple apologies.

“I’m not sure what your writing schedule looks like tomorrow, but I want you to take time to write out ten things you can do to overcome your issues with Charlene.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Then you are to draft a schedule for implementing them. We will discuss both on Tuesday.” I nodded.

“That’s tomorrow, though,” he said. “For tonight, I want you in the playroom in five minutes.”

He left the bedroom. Probably to prepare for whatever it was he had in mind. I wasn’t sure if he’d had a scene planned before my outburst about Charlene or not. If he had, I was willing to bet it’d changed.

I undressed quickly and walked to the playroom. Nathaniel was there already, his back to me as he worked with something in a far cabinet. I closed and locked the door behind me, shooting a quick glance to a nearby shelf where the steady green lights of the child monitors ensured that we’d hear either child if one needed us. Elizabeth was four and typically slept through the night, but almost-two-year-old Henry had a history of ear infections and never slept well.

Nathaniel hadn’t moved and didn’t say anything, so I made my way to the middle of the room and knelt. I looked down at the floor and fell almost immediately into my yoga breathing. I breathed in the calm of the playroom and exhaled the stress of my jealousy.