Page 11 of A Dom Vs. Domme Story
Chapter 4
KATHRYN
I wake up with a splitting headache. God, I am getting too old for this shit. Ten years ago I would drink twice as much and only have half the hangover. When will I learn that I can’t act like I’m twenty-one anymore? Turning thirty has been the biggest wake-up call in that regard.
Ian isn’t with me. At first I’m confused, until I remember I didn’t see him last night.ThenI remember he changed rooms to mine so we could be together, so where the hell is he? I don’t want to suffer from a hangover alone. Doesn’t he have one too?
Every ray of sunlight streaming through the hotel room windows are like another pick to my forehead. What’s a hangover cure in Japan? How do I call the front desk to have one delivered to me? Then again, the most effective hangover cure I could have right now is my boyfriend (suffering alongside me or not) and he’s not anywhere to be seen around here.
My phone is in my purse, which rests in the middle of the floor. I pick it up, expecting to find a text from Ian. All I see is the one from last night that says he doesn’t feel good.
“Are you okay? I have a fuckin’ hangover from hell.” I leave my phone on the table as I stumble into the bathroom to take a shower.
We have plans to run around Tokyo today. I want to go shopping here in the Shibuya neighborhood, and Ian said something about taking a walk in the Imperial Gardens before they close. Not sure how I feel about that walk right now. Maybe I can talk him out of it when he gets back to me. I want to keep things indoors today.
Whenever he gets back to me. If he’s also hungover, it may be another hour or so before I hear from him.
By lunch, I’m more than a little concerned.
I call Valerie, but it goes straight to voicemail. I tell her I can’t find Ian and I need her to call me back.
Where the hell is my boyfriend?
I decide to try his original room next. After pounding on the door a few times – certainly loud enough to rouse him out of drunken sleep – I still get nothing.
This is when I begin to panic a little bit.
What the fuck am I supposed to think? My boyfriend isn’t answering my calls, my texts, or my knocking on his door. He’s either beyond incapacitated, or…
He’s actually not here?
This is ridiculous.
“Where the hell are you?”I text him.“I hope you’re really hungover because you’re freaking me out. Give me a heads up that you’re okay. Anyway, I’m going out to get some fresh air. Text me if you want to meet up somewhere.”
Me? I’m going shopping?
Say what you will about New York and Paris, but Tokyo is seriously one of the best cities to go shopping in. (Although I do recommend being a size six or smaller.) You can find every international designer under the rising sun within single blocks. Because instead of building out like most other cities, Tokyo buildsup.Tall, skinny buildings stick up in the air, bright, neon lights tacked on even during the day. You could spend one day in a single building spending thousands of dollars and walking away with everything you came to Tokyo to buy.
Shibuya is one of the greatest examples of this. Down by the huge intersection at the station, there’s a place called Shibuya 109 that is nothing but a huge, circular shopping mall dedicated to the latest teen styles. I outgrew that place when I graduated college, but it’s still worth visiting with friends if only to take in a completely different shopping culture.
These days I stick to the couture boutiques lining the main street. I’m particularly interested in local high-fashion designers, since Japanese designers tend to think way more out of the box than their Western counterparts. I won’t be able to get away with bright pink stockings coupled with a canary yellow sheath dress and strings of pearls, but my best friend Eva would. She needs these bright pink stockings like I need a text from my boyfriend right now.
Seriously, where the hell is that guy?
Shopping distracts me long enough. By mid-afternoon I’m in a teashop looking for my father’s favorite Eastern blend to take back as a souvenir, and… still nothing from Ian. While the shopkeeper goes back to find his more sensitive blends, I try calling Ian again. Nothing. I call Valerie soon after.
“So sorry I missed your call earlier, Kathryn,” she says with a groggy voice. “I really don’t feel good today.”
“Do you know where your boss is?”
She sighs. “I haven’t heard from him, no. Was I supposed to?”
“No, but I haven’t heard from him since our meeting yesterday. I’m getting worried.”
“I can try getting through to him, but if you of all people can’t, then I don’t hold out much hope that I will be able to.”
“Thanks for trying anyway.”
