Yes, it’s definitely out of my price range. And I’m just talking about the wrappings. God only knows what he’s got inside.

I walk slowly over to it, circle it a little, like it’s a dangerous animal.

When did he have time to buy me a present?

I pull on the thick black loop of satin and it slides so easily, the bow practically dissolves with one slight tug. I push it off to the side and then lift off the lid. It comes off with a whoosh of air, and then it’s a flurry of white tissue paper. I rip the little sticker holding the two ends of tissue together, eager to see what kind of present a movie star gives a submissive on their second meeting, and have to gasp as I pull out the skirt and blouse.

The skirt is white flirty chiffon. It’s short. Like very short. The blouse is white, crisp tailored cotton—very classic—like all the women were wearing last night at the wedding. There’s a thick black belt that settles high on the waist to make the legs look longer once it’s on.

He got these clothes from the gift shop. I know this because I was longing for this outfit the day we checked in. Bebe and I stopped just to look—and this was one I had my eye on. The two tags combined came to seven thousand dollars. And if that wasn’t enough to give me a heart attack, I pull out a box filled with sexy shoes that have the trademark red soles of Louboutins. A classic black patent-leather shoe with a peekaboo toe and a cage of thin straps that climb all the way up over the ankle.

I set them on the bed and pull out another little pink bag that I know comes from the lingerie shop because my horrible men’s underwear came in one exactly like it.

I peek inside and there’s one of the bra and panties sets I looked at yesterday, in black.

Oh.

That’s about all I can think right now.

Oh.

This is what it feels like to be taken care of by a wealthy man whose only desire is to turn me on and f**k me hard as I submit to his sexual fantasies.

Why the hell have I been fighting him? I drop my towel and comb out my hair in the nude. I feel so dirty, in a very sexual way, right now. I feel filthy and I want to be naked. I want to do that walk back to the bungalow again just so I can be braver. So I can flaunt my body in public and make him appreciate my boldness, the way I want to please him. And it’s not because he bought me expensive presents, but because what he’s asking for is something I want.

I want to surrender. I want to let someone else take care of the details for once. I want to be cared for. It’s been so long since I’ve felt cared for.

Bebe always cares for me, but that’s not what I’m talking about. She’s a friend. And her family was my family after the incident with my parents. But I was too old to nurture like a real daughter would’ve been..

Vaughn is not nurturing me, but he is caring for me in his own way. And even though I’m excited—I love these presents, I want to go meet him now and continue to say yes to all his requests—I also feel a little… sad. Sad that this is the first time in my life I’ve experienced this kind of emotional reaction to a man’s attention.

He’s giving me something I want so badly. In a very specific way, yes, but is it wrong to enjoy it?

It’s not wrong, I decide as I finish my hair, dust my face with a light powder, apply some pink lipstick, and drag some mascara across my lashes. Once that’s done I stand in front of the mirror and appreciate who I am and what I look like. I’m not sophisticated and dark, like Bebe. But I’m pretty. And yes, cute. But naked I’m so much more. I’m sexual. I can see the lust in my eyes, the glow of my skin as I think about how he makes me feel, how he turns me on.

I put on my matching lingerie and immediately feel a hundred times sexier. I look at it from every angle in the mirror. And then I slip on my skirt and tuck in the blouse. I cinch the black belt high up on my waist and then buckle the incredible stiletto heels on my feet. Inside the box is also a small black clutch that looks like it matches the shoes, and I transfer my room key and a credit card inside.

I take one more look at myself and realize I have no idea what I’m supposed to do once I’m dressed. I fish around inside the box until I find a small white card.

Meet me in the restaurant lobby at one thirty. I check the clock and let out a breath of relief when I see that it’s only one twenty, and then step outside, pulling the door closed behind me.

It hits me then.

I’m having a date with Vaughn Asher.

I have to bite my lip to stop the grin. I walk into the restaurant knowing full well that heads are turning. But the only person I have eyes for is Vaughn. He’s standing at the bar off to the right, talking to Dewain, wearing a delicious black suit tailored to every curve of his body.

Dewain nods in approval as Asher gets up and walks towards me. He holds out his hand and I take it.

“You look lovely, Grace.”

I smile back, but before I can say anything, he guides me over to the hallway where the restrooms are located. “Come with me, girl,” he says in his master voice, and I gulp down my apprehension.

He holds the door open to the men’s room. I pass through and then he closes it behind us and locks it.

“Take off your panties, Grace.”

Even though he’s calling me Grace, I know I have no chance of talking my way out of this. He gave in back at the bungalow and let me win. Now it’s his turn.

I lift up my flirty skirt that could blow up and expose my private parts with the slightest wind, and slip my panties down my legs, step out of them, bend over and pick them up. And then hand them over to his outstretched palm.

He brings them to his face and inhales. My eyebrows go up and he smiles.

“Fuck, that’s intoxicating. Now listen, girl. I let you have your way but now it’s time to perform. You owe me a public orgasm, Grace. And I want it here in the restaurant.” He produces a small bullet vibrator from one suit pocket and a remote control from the other. “And I’ve got everything you need to be successful this time.”

“No.” It comes out so fast, we are both equally stunned. I take advantage of his pause, because this is the only chance I’ll get. “I’m not sure what you have in mind, but I’m not masturbating in a restaurant. I won’t do it.”

He scowls at me. “You will do it. You already promised me.”

“So? I didn’t know that what you wanted would get me arrested for being a public whore!”