2

I lead a double life. One-part fantasy, one-part mundane reality. The latter mostly a disappointment, of course.

In my fantasy world, I am Goddess. My control and power tantamount to my desires. I have strength and am revered among the masses. People seek me out, desire my attentions, compete for my favor. Since I was ushered in to the secret world of domination and submission many years ago, my goal has been to glean a sense of power and control, something I was lacking in the real world. From behind the eyes of my gilded, leather mask, I control my illusory world and it begs for my mercy.

Reality, unfortunately keeps me grounded. I am Leila King. Thirty-three years old and counting. Nothing spectacular about me, except the color of my flaming red hair, haunting blue eyes and pale skin. Most of my time is spent trying to juggle the expectations of others. The demands of those who see themselves as superior to myself, and I allow it. Sometimes it’s better not to have control, to not make the decisions. To hide behind the authority of another in hopes they will overlook me and find fault in someone else.

Just like every other day, I readied myself to face that world. After removing a small white pill from a clam-shaped container that opened to reveal a dial with days of the week printed into the plastic as it went around the circle, I put it on the back of my tongue and swallowed with a handful of water from the faucet. I turned my attention to the mirror and set to work. Concentrating on cultivating a presentable and professional appearance, I gazed into the mirror in front of me. Trapped within its frame, my reflection reminded me of someone I used to know. Strong and confident. Hair pulled neatly into a French twist at the back of my head. My makeup that of an innocent. I touched my lips with some lip gloss and gently rubbed them together to apply an even coat of Coral Confidence. In front of blue eyes, I placed my black framed glasses and took in the whole picture.

I was going for demure. A charcoal grey skirt suit with white pin-striping framed my shape effortlessly. From beneath, a starched, white collar pronounced that I was ready for the task ahead.Bring it on, this executive assistant can handle anything. This thought made me smile as I smoothed my hair on both sides and affixed bobby pins as needed to keep it in check. I had chosen my favorite black heels, giving me some height and a more graceful appearance. The heel just high enough to flex my calf muscles, revealing the toned look I work so hard on at the gym. Stockings graced my shapely legs, just enough color to distract the onlooker from my acute paleness. I sometimes wore them to give me an extra boost of assurance, that secret sexy feeling you get when you wear your favorite thong or other intimate item unknown to the people on the outside. Satisfied with my look, I turned and exited the bathroom.

The clock on my bedside table exclaimed it was 7:45 in angry, red numbers. I realized I was running a little behind, I had never noticed it