Power Play Ch. 01

I fidgeted with my short dress, clearing my throat uneasily as I sat at the bar. Men were staring at me, and honestly I didn't blame them. The dress my mysterious date had sent me was ridiculously short and the sharp, lethal looking stilettos made me look sharp and sexy. I didn't look like a cheap hooker, or even a more expensive hooker, I looked like a lethal femme fatale and even though I didn't dress like this, ever, I knew that I looked incredible.

The music in the club was hot and heavy, and the dance floor was at my back as I sat at the bar, in the corner stool. I stirred my drink and made a slight face, glancing up to look around and peering at the door. People had been coming and going, and I'd already been here for thirty minutes...

"You've barely even touched that drink, ma'am." The man sitting next to me chuckled. I looked over, a little surprised. He was tall, clearly a businessman, with dark hair and equally dark eyes. I smiled, a little nervously, and glanced down at my drink. Do I make the guess take the chance that this was my unknown date? That this was the man I'd taken that incredible leap to meet in this bar? I'd been talking to him for months, told him I'd be drinking a martini, and then he'd sent me this dress and heels, told me to sit in this exact seat and order my dirty martini...

"I'm waiting for someone." I smiled, a little braver.

"Well he's a lucky man, whoever he is; if it's a man." The guy winked, slurring his words a little. I sighed and rolled my eyes, looking away. This was obviously not the guy. I tapped my toe against the metal bar at my feet and stirred my drink, taking a small sip. If I had hoped he would have left me alone, I should have known better. Instead he slid over a stool until his leg pressed against mine.

"I'd love to be that someone." He flashed me what I'm sure he thought was a winning smile but the stench of vodka on his breath made me want to gag. I crinkled my nose and the man's expression changed.

"What? I'm not good enough for you, honey?" He slurred angrily. "'S this special date paying a lot of money for you or something?"

I gasped and stiffened my spine, the bartender came over and put his palms down on the smooth wooden counter. I clenched my jaw, grabbed my clutch and stood from the bar. Fuck this, I wasn't going to sit here and take this from some drunken sod. I had barely taken a step when the drunk grabbed my arm and pulled me back. In the dangerously high heels I wobbled and nearly broke my ankle, spilling his drink down the front of his nice suit.

"You sloppy bitch!" He yelled and raised his hand. Eyes wide, frozen on the floor, I felt another hand grab my arm and jerk me back a few inches, catching the drunk's wrist and pulling it back. The drunk business man yelled in pain and fell to his knees, eye level with me now. I looked up and saw a man with blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a sleek black suit, open in the front and with a pale pink button up shirt with the first two buttons undone.

"Do you think it's wise to act like this?" The stranger said in a very calm, but chilling, voice. He helped me stand, never moving but his arm as I quickly gained my feet. He never removed his warm hand from my arm, but as the three of us stood there, in some strange triangle of pain, he twisted the man's wrist until he screamed.

I was amazed no one in the bar spoke; instead, they looked away uneasily. I had never been here before, but it was clear that the stranger had. By the way everyone was looking somewhere else; I would have even gone so far to say that he owned the damn place. I swallowed nervously as I watched him, his straight spine, the cold look on his face as he clearly caused agony to the drunk.

"You shouldn't come back here." He said calmly, as if commenting on the weather. The man nodded, tears of pain streaming from his eyes. As the stranger released his arm, the man stumbled forward and fled the bar.

"D-Damon?" I whispered in question, my heart racing.

He turned those piercing eyes at me and my racing heart nearly skidded to a halt. While his voice and face may have been cold, those eyes were blazing with heat. I closed my gaping mouth, the hand on my forearm suddenly seeming much too warm.

"I'm pleased to see the dress fits." His voice changed dramatically from the cold, commanding tone he had used with the drunk. Now, it writhed with a sensual heat that nearly put me back on the floor. I swallowed and blushed lightly.

"You were worried?" I purred lightly, clearing my throat and shaking my head. Attempting to sound seductive had failed miserably. Damon, however, smiled kindly and led me to a private table near the back. There were curtains that could be pulled closed and the music pumping from the dance floor was far less obtrusive in this little cove. He guided me to my seat in the large booth and I knew better than to argue as I sat down he gave a satisfied nod.

Damon slid gracefully into the side opposite me, his piercing eyes digging into mine as he slid his gaze up and down my body. He might have well just ripped off this dress of his then and there for all the subtlety his gaze provided. I decided to fight fire with fire and fully take in the enigma that was Damon. His suit was crisp, clearly expensive and most likely Armani, the subtly pink shirt underneath surprised me with color choice, but taking it all in I realized nothing else would have worked nearly as well. He didn't wear a tie, but instead the shirt casually left a few buttons undone at the neck. I couldn't see his shoes and without peering under the table and looking like an idiot, I took the educated guess that they were expensive as well. His hair was the only unruly part about him - while the suit and shirt were crisp, his hair seemed almost wild. It wasn't short, but long enough that the tips came down to his jaw like jagged teeth. And his jaw...it was strong but well defined, aristocratic bone structure. His fingers were long and graceful looking and as he stared at me, one hand drummed lightly on the tabletop.

"To answer your question..." His voice slid over me like silk, "I was worried, yes."

I opened my mouth with a defiant expression, almost insulted he hadn't believed me when I told him what I looked like, my weight and height online, but refused to send him pictures. But still! I'd had the audacity to wear this ridiculously sinful dress, which seemed to have been fitted to the exact dimensions I'd given him, and had the courage to meet him here!

He held up his hand, silencing me with a cold look.

"Before you get offended, I'll tell you why. I've spoken to many women on that chat site, each one professing this beautiful figure and some even sending pictures I clearly knew were from modeling websites. Relationships can blossom online, and usually go no further but when someone expresses...interest...into my world...I take it seriously. As you've noticed, I have the money to buy anything I want and I'm not shy about it." Damon's voice was calm and barely held any inflection other than cynicism. He leaned back, lifting finger to gesture to someone outside the curtains, draping his other arm across the back of the curved booth.

"That dress you're wearing, it was made especially for you. As strange as my measurement requests might have been, you gave them to me. Most don't. When I requested you wear it, here, I didn't expect to even find anyone here. You're the first one to ever come full circle. Think of the process as a filter." Damon smirked and looked over to the woman standing with an attentive expression.

"She'll have another martini, and I'll have my usual." He looked back at me, "I'd have ordered a different drink for you, but I don't want you mixing your alcohol."

I blinked. What if I hadn't wanted another drink?

Damon smiled, leaning forward to place his elbows on the table, "I'm quite pleased you did show up, Lena."

I blushed and looked down to my hands, picking at my nails nervously. "I almost didn't."

"I know."

I looked up and met his intense gaze. I reminded myself to take deep, steadying breaths. I still couldn't believe I was here, meeting him. Perhaps it was because he'd turned out to be far more than I'd expected and even dreamed. I hadn't even known what he looked like, hair color, eye color, body build...it'd all been a mystery.

"I like what you've done with your hair." He murmured and leaned back again as the drinks arrived. He didn't say a single word to the waitress who disappeared just as silently. I brought a hand up to my hair subconsciously. If he'd only known how many times I'd messed with it before coming here before settling on my natural curly wave that was practically untamable. I'd half pulled up the sides, my long bangs still falling down almost haphazardly. It was really difficult to get them to look that way, I'd spent hours getting them to fall exactly where I wanted them.

"Thank you." I smiled shyly.

"Tell me about yourself, Lena." Damon clinked the ice in his scotch once or twice before taking a small sip. I met his gaze with a smirk.

"What don't you already know?" I asked sarcastically.

His gaze darkened but the smile curving onto his lips changed the expression from frightening to well...a completely different type of frightening that I found I liked. It made my stomach clench in the most delicious way.

"That. That right there is what I don't know." Damon smiled wolfishly, "I don't know the real Lena, what makes you tick."

"Well aside from ripping me apart to peer at my insides, which I assure you doesn't whirr and tick like a clock, there isn't much to say." I shrugged with a blush. Damon's smile couldn't have gotten wider.

"And who says that's not what I'm already planning?" His voice was barely above a whisper but nonetheless, it made me quiver.

"I would hope you aren't an axe murderer, because that wasn't on my request form." I sipped my drink, raising an eyebrow. Damon laughed, a genuine smile meeting his eyes for the first time. It was a wonderful sound that made me toes curl. I half smiled back at him, still hesitant and shy.

The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile and he shook his head, "Lena, you are a breath of fresh air."

"What? You're telling me women don't normally talk back to you? Or are they all as deathly silent as that waitress earlier?" I smiled and leaned forward, "You are quite dashing, sir."

His eyes sparked and a wicked grin curved onto his lips at the word 'sir'. I smiled back, remembering the times I'd chatted online with him, roleplaying in that erotic chat room, pretending to be submissive. I crossed my legs under the table and bounced my foot slightly with a half-smile.

"Most of them are afraid of me." Damon purred, placing his elbows back on the table.

"Hmmm...I have a hard time wondering why." I mused dryly. Damon grinned; he knew full well that almost everyone in this club was terrified of him, especially the women. He also knew that over half of them would drop their skirts in the middle of the dance floor for him. I shook my head and stirred my martini.

"Lena, you showed a lot of courage coming here." Damon's voice was all business again. As I looked up at him, his face had gone cold and he pulled out his blackberry and tapped a few things before putting it away again. He looked back at me, "That means you're genuinely interested in my lifestyle. Those 'games' we played online...they aren't just games in my life. I can tell, just by looking at you, that you aren't experienced. You blush at the simplest comments and you carry yourself like you're afraid of what you could do."

I gaped at him slightly, frowning and almost cutting him off when he called me inexperienced. But this time, he didn't even have to hold up a hand to bring me to heel.

"I'm interested in you, Lena. I'm sure even you could see that. But there are a few things that you need to understand before we take another step. I'm a businessman, and this relationship will be as strict as the way I run my business. If I call you and tell you to come over, there will be no arguing, no excuses, unless your mother is dying: You. Will. Be. There.

You also need to understand that this is not the relationship you read about in romance novels. This isn't anything more than what's been written out; there will be no romantic relationship - this is a testing of limits. Is that clear?" Damon's eyes were ice and I shivered at his harsh words. Was that what I had been looking for? With my past, this seemed like foolish and stupid idea, but every relationship I'd been in had failed miserably. I nodded slowly, unable to breathe enough to form words.

"It's obvious you've been hurt before, and I'm not sure how or why. But before we start, the past must no longer be the past - it must come out and be known. I won't dally with illegal substances, illegal activities or anything else than I deem unsavory. And should the time come that I deem this relationship over, then that's the end of it. Am I clear?"

This time, I nodded with more confidence.

"Lena..." Damon sighed and closed his eyes a moment, when he opened them again, the heat was back. "You need to understand that I'm not a good man - I'm not the wine and roses type and I never will be. This is your last chance to back out. I won't give you another."

I took a few deep breaths and bit my bottom lip. I had known what I was signing up for when I came to this club wearing his dress and his heels. I also knew that nothing moved me more; nothing made me hotter than pretending to be a submissive so why should this be any different? Shouldn't this be better than pretending? My heart raced as Damon watched me struggle internally. He was surprisingly patient; but then again, most people didn't just sign their sexual life away like this every day. Anger flared up inside me briefly and clenching my jaw, I looked him square in the eye.

"I'm not backing out of this." I growled.

Surprise flitted across his eyes momentarily and then a hint of respect followed. He sat back again and nodded once, "Then tell me. Why are you choosing this?"

I took a deep breath, shutting my eyes for one painful moment, before looking steadily at the table in front of me, my hands gripping the seat on either side of me and I unclenched my jaw, "I didn't have the greatest childhood. I was abused from the moment I was born - my father raped me every night for as long as I could remember. Whenever I refused, or even sometimes for the hell of it, he would torture me in the basement, ripping tendons in my joints and bruising me where no one would ever see it. He made me feel worthless and unworthy of life."

I couldn't look up at him, he was so silent...I prayed he wouldn't call this off.

"I grew up in a warzone. Every night I dug into my foxhole and prayed the enemy wouldn't come. But every night he did and every night I fought him until I bled. And I always bled. My family never knew what was going on and I wouldn't tell them. He held a knife to my mother's neck frequently when she slept, telling me that he could kill her in an instant and take me away from everyone I loved. No one would ever find us and I would never get away. He threatened to take my hope away. There were nights, many nights, I prayed this time he would kill me." My voice was shaking and I clenched my eyes shut, the dim lights suddenly too intense. I gritted my teeth and continued, my chest aching as I spoke.

"I turned sixteen and my mother died. I ran as fast and as far as I could - scholarships to schools and full time jobs kept me fed and alive. But I was always running, it didn't matter where I went, letters...letters would always find me. Then, one day I was told my father had passed away in a car wreck and left the family fortune to me, 'his darling daughter Lena' or so it said on the paperwork. I didn't have a choice; I had to take his damn money." I hissed unhappily. "So it's sat in the bank for ten years and accrued more interest than I could ever hope to spend in my lifetime. And I still haven't touched a single cent of it."

After taking a few deep breaths, I looked up at Damon. His eyes were chilling.

"There's something else, Lena." His voice sounded slightly strained.

I looked down at my white hands, "Yes."

"Tell me, now." He ordered.

I swallowed, "I've been with other men; certain desires somehow managed to survive. Call it human nature or whatever you like, but every relationship I've ever been in has failed more miserably than you can possibly imagine. I've had the wine and roses type, I've had the kind and caring...I..."

I fought back tears, "I don't know why...I went onto that chat site on a fluke! I...I popped into that room and saw you chatting with that other woman, roleplaying with her and I nearly came right then and there. I'd never felt that way anywhere else, with anyone else. I wanted to be used like that and..."

I let out a sob.

"Lena."

I looked up at him, the tears dangling from my eyelashes, not yet fallen. I felt so lost, looking at the dominant man across from me. His eyes weren't kind like I'd expected, but rather cold and calculating. The commanding tone he'd used had stopped the tide welling inside me in an instant.

"You don't understand why you want the things you do?" He asked carefully.

I nodded silently, clenching my hands harder on the leather. Damon watched me for a few moments.

"You think it makes you disturbed and broken and shameful?" His voice sounded angry but his face was still emotionless. It was his eyes that swirled with a cold heat.

"It does..." I whispered, looking down again.

"Lena, look at me." He demanded.

His gaze was fierce and he was leaning forward, "You're wrong. It doesn't make you a deviant, it doesn't make you shameful, or disgusting, or wrong, or even broken. The fact you want to face this in the rawest manor...I find it admirable. You're a much braver person that I gave you credit for."

"Isn't it wrong to want this?" I whispered in horror.

Damon shook his head with an angry look on his face, "Does it make me sick and twisted to want to do what I do? Is it wrong that it's the only way I can enjoy myself at times? No. It doesn't. It's just the way you're wired, Lena, you want to be controlled. You've tried to take control in all your relationships and they've failed horribly - you admitted it yourself. It's only natural you came to this conclusion."

"But this is...this is so..." I shook my head, looking everywhere but him.

"Extreme?" Damon smirked.

I nodded, my shoulders slumping.

"And yet, you're absolutely sure you want to do this?" He asked. I looked at him, anger flaring up inside me again. I would not let my sick father ruin another minute of my life, if I wanted this; it was because I wanted it.

"I thought you weren't giving me another chance to back out." I challenged with anger shining in my eyes, mixed with my drying tears. Damon's face darkened, spiking fear inside me, as he clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes.

"Come sit next to me." He ordered. I hesitated a moment too long and with a growl Damon glared, "Should I have said now, Lena?"

I slid around the table and sat a few inches from him, my breath catching in my lungs just from being so close to him. His hand slid to the inside of my thigh and just as my eyes went wide, he pulled me so close I was practically on top of him.

"I said 'next to' did I not?" He hissed in my ear. I shivered and nodded. "I can't hear nods, Lena."

"Y-yes you did." I whispered; my voice strained.

"You will address me as 'sir' is that clear?" Damon asked coldly. I wasn't sure if I liked him better as the playful friend/potential Dom or the terrifyingly real, deliciously strict Dom he was now. I nodded and quickly corrected myself.