Jonathan texted me twice the next day. The first one at nine telling me he had a great time last night and he’d like to see me again that evening. He also told me where he was staying and what room. Then he texted me at four to let me know he was going to be running late. He was stuck in meetings and the earliest he’d get out was around nine. It didn’t matter to me. He seemed like a man of his word and I trusted him.

– Just let me know when you want me. –

– I will. –

It was no lie. I liked Jonathan. I trusted him. He made me feel special with the way he looked at me and talked to me. When Sebastian showed up unexpectedly at the restaurant, Jonathan made me feel safe and protected just like a true Dominant would have even though I had no idea of the extent of his experience. Not that it mattered. Some people just had it in them while, to others–like Sebastian–they just wished it were.

Sebastian had texted me, too, probably using another one of his friends’ phones since I’d blocked his number the moment I left him. It had to be him because no one else would have felt threatened to see Jonathan Drazen sitting across from him at a meeting.

– Your boyfriend is sitting in front of me right now. –

– I’ve been waiting for this chance for a long time and now I’m going to show him who’s boss around this town. Just wait and see. –

– I’ll drive him out of SF and it will be your fault. –

I ignored him and then blocked the new number as I should have done when I figured out it was him texting me. His pathetic messages only made him look inadequate and insecure. Sebastian recognized real power when he saw it and with Jonathan sitting across the table from him, it must have scared the shit out of him. Jonathan, on the other hand, was a man who could take care of himself. I had no doubt he’d do a good job showing Sebastian who was boss, not the other way around.

* * *

Jonathan’s text came at 8:10 PM.

– Be in front of my hotel room at 9:00. –

There were no other instructions and I didn’t dare ask. What did he want me to wear? Did he want me with underwear or did he want me without it? What about my hair? Should I put it up using something he could tie me down with later, or leave it loose so he could grab it to pull me wherever he wanted me?

For a moment, I panicked. I was so used to being told what to do, what to wear, even when to brush my teeth that with Jonathan, my mind became a blank slate. What I wanted didn’t matter. I only needed to know what he preferred, how he wanted me to present myself to him. What would he like? What did he like?

After telling myself to calm down, I chose to wear a red wraparound dress and stilettos. Black lace bra and matching panties. No, Sharon, get rid of the bra. Just keep the panties. Then I cabbed it to the hotel and made my way to one of the top floors.

At 8:56, I was standing in front of his door, chewing on my bottom lip. I was nervous. I was a wreck. What now? Should I be in ready position? Out here in the hallway? No, that would be ridiculous. Which ready position? Would he be a good Dominant? Would he remember my safe word? Would he listen?

I knocked on the door and listened for a few moments. I heard movement on the other side and wondered if he was looking through the peephole. I looked down at what I was wearing, at my red dress and stilettos that had drawn every man’s attention the moment I walked into the lobby. A few women, too. I knew I looked good. No, I looked amazing. The dress clung to every curve, the wrap accentuating the swell of my breasts. My hair was down and my makeup was on point. Not too much. Just right. I wanted to please him. I wanted him to choose me to be his submissive.

I closed my eyes, forcing my mind to be quiet, to stop second-guessing myself. Still, the door didn’t open and I didn’t want to knock again. He’d heard me, I was sure of it. My legs took a life of their own and I knelt, my knees touching the soft carpet. Anyone could step out of the elevator at the other end of the hallway and see me kneeling. But I could no longer worry about what they’d think. My mind chose not to focus on that anymore. It was now set on Jonathan on the other side of the door. Maybe he’d see me kneeling. Maybe he’d see the submissive I was.

I stayed there still kneeling, my eyes cast down, my hands, palms up, resting on top of my thighs spread shoulder-width apart. I wanted to serve him and only him. I wanted to please him.

I wanted him to see me.

A minute passed, and then another. Was he going to open the door at all? Fear began to seep through the edges of my mind, doubt shifting from the shadows, ready to taunt me. I kept my gaze lowered, centering my breathing. I pushed the dark thoughts away. I thought only of Jonathan with his tousled copper hair and his beautiful green eyes. I thought of his mouth and straight row of perfect teeth, his broad chest, flat stomach and slim hips. Then I thought of his hands, of the power he could wield over me with just a flick of a wrist or a lift of his finger. And then his voice, that smooth and steady voice that lowered whenever he was displeased.

One word, one gesture. That was all I needed. Give me a sign, Sir. Show me you want me.

The door opened and I saw his shoes first and then his trousers though I didn’t dare lift my gaze to look at his face. I hadn’t earned it, not yet. I smelled his cologne, sage and fog all rolled into one, felt his presence take over my senses–sight, sound, and everything in between, conquering every moment of doubt I’d dared to entertain. He stood before me, towering like the king he was.

His fingers caressed my cheek. His first touch, and I sighed with gratitude. He did more than just open his door. He saw me.

Jonathan slid his fingers under my chin as his thumb softly stroked my lower lip. My breath hitched and it was as if time stood still. Then he tilted my face upward and I met his gaze.

“Sharon,” he murmured, and I felt my chest swell with pride. The butterflies in my stomach fluttered to life and desire settled between my legs, maddening in its intensity. “You’re on time.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Then he withdrew his hand and held it out toward me, palm up. “Come in.”