Page 305 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 1

“Sure, no problem. What else?”

“I'll text you if I can get you an appointment for the body work. You'll enjoy it, whether you feel stiff tomorrow or not. It's great stuff.”

“Thanks. When do you need the car back? For the evening?”

Dom shrugged. “I'm not sure I do. I'll text you. You playing at Congress?”

She nodded.

“Okay.” Then he leaned forward and kissed her—an undemanding, tender sort of kiss. “Thanks for the sex.”

Her eyes flew up to his. He was looking at her a little wistfully, which she didn't understand. And then he dematerialized before her eyes.

He materialized right in front of the stone Kate. His Kate. He sucked in his breath. Damn. Was he really so undisciplined that he couldn't stop fucking a mortal when he'd decided it was necessary? He stared at the marble image for a long moment. His chest was filled with such a strong warm feeling that he couldn't deny—he loved this girl. His instinct to protect and care for her was so strong, there was nothing he wouldn't do for her. Well, if that were true he would've kept his hands off her, wouldn't he? Because he already knew that a relationship with him would only cause her pain.

He sighed and went into the kitchen and sat down at the breakfast bar, where his laptop was set up. He checked his emails idly for a while, then pulled up the site for Victoria's Secret. He owed her a pair of panties, didn't he? Except… jeez. What to pick? He didn't want to overstep. He wanted to buy what she would want, not what he would want to see her in. Except he wasn't really sure. He should have grabbed the shredded panties from her.

Maybe it would be better to just get her a gift card and send her out to buy her own panties. Yes, that was a good plan. Except now he wanted to present her with it tomorrow. How could he get a gift card tomorrow, unless he sent her to pick one up? Should he just leave her money in an envelope? He rubbed his forehead. God, he was such a sap. All this thought over a pair of panties.

In the end, he put a hundred-dollar bill in an envelope, sealed it up and wrote on the front of it: “One more errand—to be completed by Friday. Please go to Victoria's Secret and buy yourself some new panties. You must spend the entire amount on yourself. Bring me the receipt as proof.”

Satisfied, he materialized to the passenger seat of his car and set the envelope down on the driver's seat. He glanced up at Kate's place—it was a small guest house or casita, as they called them in Tucson, set behind a larger main house. Old adobe architecture from the 1930's or 40's. The lights were off. He found himself wondering what position she slept in. Curled up on her side? Sprawled on her back? Or was she a belly sleeper? He shook his head. He was totally losing it over this woman. He flashed back to his place, disgusted with himself.

He woke the following day around noon, arranged for Kate's body-work session, and then picked up his phone to text her. Fox and Stella had forced him to learn to text, and now that he'd adopted it, it was hard not to appreciate the ease cell phones—and internet for that matter—had brought to their lives. When he texted her with the information, she replied, “Thx 4 panty $$. Does it have to be Victoria's Secret? How bout Target instead?”

He snorted a short laugh and texted back, “Victoria's Secret. Bring receipt to prove.”

His phone buzzed with her quick reply. “ALL panties? What if I want pjs?”

He texted back. “Pjs?”

“Pajamas.”

“I know what pjs stands for.”

“U want me 2 buy 100 $$ in panties???”

He smirked as his thumbs typed, “Changed mind. Williams-Sonoma. 100 $$ in wooden spoons.”

Her reply came instantly, “Panties it is!”

He chuckled and texted back, “Get at least 1 pair panties. Then treat yourself—however.”

“But has 2 b @ VS?”

“U want those panties pulled down, don't u?”

“No.” Then a second text came through, “Yes.” Then a third, “Kind of. :)”

He smiled at that and sent her a smiley face back.

He spent the rest of the week inventing quick, easy errands for her to run for him. He wanted her to feel like she was helping him out, so that it wasn't just a big, fat favor he'd done for her. But he also knew she was extremely busy with her graduate studies, so he didn't want to add to her stress level. He was able to limit his contact with her by having her drop off the goods she'd picked up for him at the bar before he got there, and swearing he didn't need his car during the nights.

She showed up early to perform on Friday and plopped down at the bar. She was wearing a small, fitted t-shirt with a picture of a dachshund that said “I wieners.” She had on cut-off jean shorts and her cowgirl boots. Her platinum hair had a blue streak in it this week and was in short, fluffy pigtails. Only Kate could get away looking rockabilly rather than slut in an outfit like that. She was smoking hot.

He brought her a ginger ale with lime and she tossed a slip of paper across the bar at him. He picked it up. It was the Victoria's Secret receipt. She had a little bit of a naughty-girl smirk on her face and he couldn't help but grin.

“Do I get a fashion show?”

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