A week later, Samantha called me and said she was coming home early. "I'm sick of Amanda's friends, sick of Amanda, and missing you." I made plans to meet her jet at the airport so we could make a New Year's party that night.
Samantha got out of the jet and into the limousine with me. In the back seat, I gave her the outfits that she had asked for. She looked at me, and I didn't respond. "Excuse me, I'd like some privacy if I'm going to change," she snapped.
I turned and looked out the window as she changed into the cocktail dress. After she was dressed, she began to do her makeup and told me that I could look again. As she efficiently did her makeup, I could tell that she was back to her usual self.
Against my better judgment, I asked her the question that was on my mind. "How did you like the vacation?"
She turned to me and scowled. "I assume you're asking about my entire vacation, Starting when I met Amanda. I enjoyed myself, and enjoyed letting go entirely. But if you think that means you can continue to fuck around, you're crazy.
"Amanda tried to convince me that had you left because of me. That you were disgusted with my behavior, of how passionately I embraced the role. She left me crying in bed where you saw me last, and ran off to some party.
"Then her friend came back from taking you to the airport. She was wearing one of my outfits and looking for more to take. I had been fine with Amanda wearing my clothes as part of the game, but it was going well beyond our fun to outfit some barmaid.
"We fought. She was no match for me, and I was waiting for Amanda when she returned. She was surprised to see me in the outfit her friend tried to steal, and I laid into her. I proved to her that I could not only play my submissive role, but that I was her equal as the dominant. After several days, I not only had all of my clothes back, I had little Amanda running errands for me.
"Exhausted, and knowing I had won, I called it
off. We hung
out and talked to each other for a long time, as equals. She told me
about the
first month she worked for you, and how you dressed her up in my suit
and used
her as bait to close the WTI account. How you asked her to hide who she
really
was, and pretend to be somebody else. At this point I knew that I
wasn't going to play along with the game. In fact, I was going to
make a new game. Now that I wasn't Sam anymore, I had my hair
restored to brunette.
"Amanda had explained how she and her friends had been serving the wealthy for years as bartenders and waitresses in Aspen. They wanted to cross the bridge, live the life they had been serving to. Pilfering some of my clothes was part of their plan, but I explained that it wouldn't work.
"I gave them a much better plan, and helped them acheive it.
No matter how hard they tried, they just couldn't come off as someone
who winters at the St. Regis. On the other end of the spectrum,
it would be disgraceful to marry a former barmaid. I put them
squarely in the middle. They were to quit their jobs, and they
would tell everyone that they were students on winter break from a
nearby Denver school.
"Admitting that they were posers lent credibility - this was their
big play date, their chance to play glamorous. I bought them a
wardrobe of cheap yet fashionable clothing, not Chanel suits, but BCBG
sheaths - Nine West boots, not Manolo Blahnik. I put them up in a
room at a cheaper hotel, but they were to spend their time in the Nell
and Jerome, hanging out at the cafes, being drawn to glamour.
"It worked remarkably well. Wealthy men, tired of the insular
dating world of the rich, found these beautiful specimens who could fit
in, with some help. I had molded them into Barbie dolls, and
dangled them as the perfect dress-up toy. Denise, who was the
bartender, met a wealthy doctor who had just divorced and was going
through a typical midlife crisis. He wanted a fast, sexy, trophy
wife. He took her to Prada and bought her a few outfits.
She walked into the lodge apres-ski and turned every head in her
leather suit. Pleased with the reaction, he had her move in with
him, in one of the suites at the Jerome.
She was his date for an exclusive black-tie affair at the St.
Regis. With a little pressure, she was able to get her friend
Michelle on the guest list. I bought Michelle a beautiful evening
gown - I didn't know they made nice dresses under two
thousand. I helped her with her hair and makeup, and she
looked great. I even gave her a pair of my Stewart Weitzman
evening sandals, and she put them on her feet. The next time she
took them off, she was in the bedroom of a CEO.
"Within four days, they both had checked out of their hotels and
were in the party circuit. Their men bought them new dresses for
every party, and both of them were leaving Aspen, with their men, after
the New Year.
"Amanda and I agreed that it was working, and she stayed in Aspen to
give them guidance, as they really do need help. We both had a
rush from turning the help into the trophy - and then we realized that
we both were playing this game for you.
"I thought that you wanted me to be submissive, because it turned you on. Now I realize that you wanted me submissive so you could have Amanda. You're as much of a creep as those men in Aspen, playing dominance by creating Eliza Doolittle. In fact you're worse, because you were married. I'm not going to have any of that. You're not going to sleep with her, you're not going to make her into a new woman, I'm not going to play games for you, and I'm done being a submissive blond."
She sat silently, with a grimace on her face, no doubt thinking
about my sins and what a pig I had been. I realized that I wasn't going
to have much
success arguing. No matter what the facts were, I was in the
doghouse and Amanda was the victim.
"We're here. Do me a favor and don't follow me around the
party. I'm going to have a hard enough time smoothing over my
behavior for the last few months, I don't need you by my side, it will
just want me to blame you."
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