In the last installment, Rebecca decided to call Alex and says he wants her to go to Aspen. How will this effect her relationship with the Master? Find out in the latest installment of Rebecca’s Forgotten Journals.
Read the first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth entries from Rebecca’s Forgotten Journals to catch up with her romance.
Don’t forget to check back in next week, as Hypable will be running weekly entries from Rebecca’s Forgotten Journals, which are featured in her Inside Out series, until Valentine’s Day.
Rebecca’s Forgotten Journals: Dream Man
Saturday 6 pm
I’m on a private jet on my way to Aspen. I’m excited and nervous, in good ways, which I didn’t think was possible earlier today, but I attribute that to the encounter I just had with him right before I left for the airport. Yes. Him. My ex-master. I’d just finished work, and my taxi had no showed. There’s a convention in town, and it was nearly impossible to get a cab apparently. While a plane waited for me on a runway. I had to cancel so Alex could stop paying whatever fee that must be costing him. Aspen, I’d decided, just wasn’t meant to be.
Decision made, I’d walked, with my bag, to the coffee shop to grab a coffee, only because I’d been by for the gallery staff earlier and knew the owner of the shop wasn’t in today. Which mattered, because I really hadn’t been in the mood to have her look me up and down and judge me, but then is anyone ever in the mood to be judged? I really don’t understand why Ava behaves that way. She’s stunningly gorgeous. Owns a coffee shop so clearly has courage to take risks and be her own person. I’d admire her if she treated people kindly, but it’s not just me that she’s nasty to. But that is another story.
Bottom line. Ava was gone so I went in to the coffee shop for a White Mocha. Once I’d had it in hand, I’d settled down at a table in a corner and dialed Alex, who’d answered right away. “Rebecca,” he’d said in this warm, smoky kind of voice. And he’d said my name like it brought him pleasure and it made me think about the ways he might bring me pleasure. Romantic ways. Sexy ways. Not handcuffs, blindfolds, and spankings. It just feels like it will be different with him.
“Where are you now?” he’d asked. “The plane is waiting on you.”
“I can’t get a taxi,” I’d said. “There’s a convention in town. I should just-”
“I’ll send a car. Where are you?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” I say. “It’s so late and-”
“I really want to see you,” he’d said. “Come see me, Rebecca.”
I’d had this warm feeling in my chest when he’d said my name again. “Okay,” I’d said and I’d given him my location.
“The car will be there in fifteen minutes. I’ll call you when it pulls up.”
He’d hung up and I’d started, finally, to let myself look forward to seeing him, but my hand had gone to the ring dangling on the chain at my neck, but not intentionally. Almost like my subconscious knew it was there, and knew it was a problem. It ties me to another man, after all. It took me a full five minutes to convince myself to do it, but I’d take then necklace, the ring, off. Once I’d tucked it into my purse pocket and zipped it up, I’d gotten anxious to get to the airport, and headed to the door watch for the car.
That’s when he had walked in. He was wearing my favorite suit he owns. A blue suit with a blue tie, that softens those hard, calculating eyes of his. But it’s also the suit he’d been wearing the day I’d met him.
“Rebecca,” he’d said, and when he’d said my name, his tone had been impossible to read. There wasn’t seduction there. There wasn’t even torment or loss. Because you see, that’s his way. He doesn’t show emotion. That’s why, in intimate moments, when he’d allowed me to see the pain and torment in his eyes I’d felt he trusted me.
“Hi,” I’d said, because nothing more brilliant came to me.
“Let me buy you a coffee,” he’d said.
“I have a coffee,” I’d said, showing him the cup in my hand, and now, looking back, since I’d been exiting the coffee shop, he had to have known that, even without seeing my drink.
“Stay with me while I order mine.”
It wasn’t a question but a command. And one I decline to follow. “I can’t,” I’d said.
“Can’t?” His eyes had sharpened. Why?”
My phone had rang then and I’d scooped it out of my pocket and answered. “Hi,” I’d said, because why wouldn’t I greet two men the same way in five minutes?
“The car is there,” Alex had said.
“I’m about to walk outside now,” I’d replied.
“See you soon, beautiful,” he’d said, the charming endearment, warming my cheeks.
I’d ended the call and found my former master staring at me. “You have a date.”
“Yes. I have a date.”
He glances at my neck. “And you took off the ring.”
“Yes,” I’d confirmed. “I took it off.”
He stared at me several beats and then to my disappointment, said simply, “Have a good night, Rebecca.”
It had hurt. It does hurt. He essentially was letting me go. I’d stepped around him and exited to the then quiet San Francisco street, and the driver was holding the rear door of a limo open for me. I’d reached the door, and hesitated before I got into the car. I’d thought about being fair to Alex. If I got into that car, I needed to really be present with him this weekend. I needed to forget the man who’d just let me go, and really, enjoy a man, who called me beautiful and said my name like it was sex and seduction. I had to choose between the Master and the Dream Man.
I’d handed my bag to the man and gotten in the limo, obviously, since I’m writing this from a plane, but I’d felt my ex-master watching as I did. And when the door had shut, it had felt like me letting him go. And so, here I am and the truth is, I’m ready for this. I didn’t think I was, but it’s amazing how one encounter actually did what I didn’t think was possible. Set me free.