"How dare you try to hold my job over Justin's head," Eleanor accuses, storming into Mercedes' office before she can be called in to be fired.
"You're forgetting who holds the power here," Mercedes answers coldly, "I may not get Justin, but I can still fire you."
"You actually think you have power?" Eleanor scoffs, swinging a punch across Mercedes face, knocking the older woman down.
"You're just nouveau riche trash and you know it. I may be just your assistant now, but you know what kind of wealth I'm coming into, the weight my name carries, and you know I'll be able crush you like the insect you are. Fire me now, and you will pay for it later, with interest."
Mercedes rests her head against the chair, her face stinging from the punch. What Eleanor says is true, but her words barely register. It's the commanding tone, the contempt in her voice, that turns Mercedes on. "I'm worthless," Mercedes agrees with a whimper, "I deserve to be crushed."
"You're pathetic," Eleanor sneers, "Get up and negotiate like a woman."
"I'm not your assistant anymore," Eleanor says, taking her position on the desk, while Mercedes sits subservient in the chair, "I manage this gallery. And of course, my promotion comes with a significant raise. I'll be needing this office as well, of course, and we'll have to hire a new receptionist."
It's all Mercedes can do to not grovel and call her mistress as she agrees to Eleanor's terms.
Justin is working at Underworld that evening; Eleanor doesn't want to wait for his shift to be over to tell him her news, so she goes to the club to watch him dance until he has a free moment for her.
She wonders how he does it, watching him grind up there, on display for anyone who wants to look, how he makes himself into a commodity while remaining so untouchable, so pure.
As soon as he sees her, the dance is for her, and Justin only keeps at it long enough to amuse her. As soon as she grows impatient, he jumps down from the table and kneels in front of her.
"Tell me," he says.
"It was amazing," she sighs, "I told her off for trying to blackmail you. And then she threatened to fire me anyway. And I just wanted to put her down so badly. So I hit her. Hard."
"It felt good, didn't it?"
"Oh, yes," Eleanor says, "She was on the floor, cringing while I called her an insect. And I felt so...I can't describe it at all."
Justin lunges onto her lap, "You don't have to describe it," he says, biting her lips as he kisses her, "I know the power trip. I just wish I could have been there to see you take her down." He presses his body hard against hers, her legs open beneath him. "Let's go home," he breathes onto her neck.
"Don't you have to work?" She asks.
"The only person I have to please tonight is you, princess."
"Will you really do anything I say?" she asks when they're back in his room.
"You know I will," he answers.
"Take off your shirt," she gives her first order.
"You are beautiful," she observes, "I see why people like Mercedes want you so badly. But I don't like sharing you. I want you for myself. I want you to drop all your clients."
"Done," he agrees.
"Really?" she asks, "I'm not joking."
"I know that," Justin answers, "I've made a lot of money doing this, enough to pay my rent for awhile, at least. If you want to keep me tied to the bed all day, I can manage that."
"I can't keep you tied up," she says, "I'll need you to do the shopping and pick up my dry cleaning."
"Whatever you want, princess."
"And that really wouldn't bother you?" she asks, "You wouldn't feel emasculated, waiting on me like that?"
Justin laughs deep in his chest, "You know I don't get hung up on that gender crap," he says, taking her hand down between his legs, "I'm a man. Being your bitch won't change that."
"We should get our own place," Eleanor suggests, "If I'm going to keep you, I'll have to take care of you properly."