Friday Belongs to Venus

[OD****]

All week, she belonged to herself.

Monday through Thursday, she made the decisions.

She answered the calls. Fixed the problems. Remembered what everybody else forgot. She spent her days telling people where to be, what needed to happen, and how quickly she needed it done.

She was good at being in control.

Maybe too good.

Friday was different.

Friday started with one message.

Be ready at eight. Wear something you feel beautiful in. Everything else, I’ll decide.

She read it twice.

Normally there would have been questions.

Where are we going?
What should I wear?
How late are we staying out?
What exactly do you have planned?

She typed:

That’s all I get?

The response came a few seconds later.

You already broke the first rule.

She smiled.

What rule?

Stop trying to know everything before it happens.

That one stayed with her.

At 7:58, there was a knock.

Of course he was early.

She opened the door and found him standing there, looking at her without saying anything.

His eyes moved over her once.

Slowly.

Not enough to make her uncomfortable.

Just enough that she noticed.

“Well?”

“You look good.”

She waited for more.

Nothing.

“That’s it?”

He smiled.

“Turn around.”

Her eyebrow lifted.

“You haven’t even said hello.”

“Hello.”

She laughed.

“Asshole.”

“Turn around.”

She held his gaze a second longer, then did it.

Leather shifted behind her.

Her shoulders tightened before he even touched her.

His fingers moved her hair away from her neck.

“Relax.”

“I am relaxed.”

His hand stopped.

“No, you’re pretending to be.”

She almost turned around.

Then the collar settled against her throat.

Soft leather.

Cool against her skin.

The buckle clicked.

That little sound changed something.

His fingertips stayed near the back of her neck.

“Monday through Thursday, everybody gets something from you.”

She went quiet.

“Your job. Your phone. Your responsibilities. Everybody who needs something.”

His hand moved to her shoulder.

“Tonight, you don’t have to make every decision.”

She turned around.

“You practiced that.”

“No.”

“It sounded practiced.”

“You nervous?”

“No.”

He gave her a look.

She laughed.

“Okay, maybe a little.”

“Better.”

He stepped closer.

“There are rules.”

“Of course there are.”

“You can tell me no.”

She nodded.

“You can tell me to stop.”

Another nod.

“And I mean stop. Not stop because you think that’s what you’re supposed to say. Not stop because you’re testing me. If you want something to end, it ends.”

“I understand.”

“If something doesn’t feel right, you tell me.”

She looked down at the collar, then back at him.

“And if everything does feel right?”

His finger slipped beneath the front of it.

“Then stop trying to control what happens next.”

Her eyes stayed on his.

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I take you home.”

That answer caught her off guard.

No threat.

No attempt to convince her.

She grabbed her purse.

“Fine.”

He held out his hand.

“What?”

“The purse.”

“I can carry my own purse.”

“I know.”

She stared at him.

Then handed it over.

“Don’t get used to this.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

Dinner was worse than she expected.

Because nothing happened.

He took her somewhere dim and quiet, where the tables were far enough apart that nobody else mattered.

He asked about her week.

Made her laugh.

Asked what she wanted to do before the end of the year.

Normal conversation.

Almost annoyingly normal.

Except every time she turned her head, she felt the collar against her neck.

Halfway through dinner, his hand settled on her thigh beneath the table.

She stopped talking.

He kept looking at the menu.

His hand didn’t move.

She waited.

Nothing.

“You’re doing that on purpose.”

He looked up.

“Doing what?”

“That.”

“I’m touching your leg.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Then why are you asking me?”

She stared at him.

His thumb moved once.

Slowly.

Her breathing changed.

He noticed.

Of course he noticed.

She leaned closer.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Very much.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

She narrowed her eyes.

He leaned toward her just enough that his voice didn’t carry.

“You spend all week getting answers the second you ask for them.”

His hand stayed exactly where it was.

“Tonight, you can wait.”

Heat moved through her.

She sat back.

Then his hand disappeared.

Her eyes followed it before she could stop herself.

He saw that too.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to.”

“I really wasn’t.”

That somehow irritated her more.

So she started pushing.

Little comments.

Little challenges.

Nothing dramatic.

Just enough to see what would finally get a reaction.

He stayed calm.

At first.

When they stood to leave, she walked ahead of him.

He caught up beside her.

“You done?”

“With what?”

“You know.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

He stopped.

She took two more steps before realizing he wasn’t beside her anymore.

She turned around.

He stood there.

Waiting.

She walked back.

“What?”

“Try again.”

She folded her arms.

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

He reached toward her chin.

She immediately pulled back.

“No.”

His hand stopped.

The entire mood changed.

Not because she was angry.

Because he had assumed.

He lowered his hand.

“Okay.”

She watched him.

He didn’t touch her again.

A few seconds passed.

“I don’t like somebody grabbing my face when I’m irritated.”

“Good to know.”

“That’s it?”

“What else do you want me to say?”

She shrugged.

“I don’t know. Most people get defensive.”

“I’m not most people.”

She studied him.

Then stepped closer on her own.

“You can touch me.”

“Not there?”

“Not when I’m actually annoyed.”

He nodded.

“Understood.”

Something about how quickly he accepted the correction softened her more than the command had.

He didn’t use it against her.

Didn’t make the moment weird.

He just adjusted.

She looked at him.

“I was pushing you.”

“I know.”

“I wanted to see what you’d do.”

“I know that too.”

“That confident, huh?”

“No. You’re just not as subtle as you think you are.”

She laughed.

“There he is.”

He smiled.

“There who is?”

“The asshole.”

“That’s better.”

The ride afterward was quiet.

At a red light, his hand rested palm-up between them.

He didn’t ask.

She looked at it.

Then at him.

Still nothing.

She placed her hand in his.

His fingers closed around hers.

That was all.

Later, behind a closed door, the atmosphere changed again.

No restaurant.

No audience.

No distractions.

Just the two of them.

He stood across from her.

“Come here.”

She stayed where she was.

He waited.

“You’re not gonna make me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you here because I made you.”

His eyes stayed on hers.

“I want you here because you decided to come.”

She looked at him for a long moment.

Then crossed the room herself.

Slowly.

She stopped in front of him.

“Happy?”

“No.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“No?”

“I said come here.”

“I’m literally standing in front of you.”

He looked down at the small amount of space between them.

She understood.

And this time, she was the one who closed it.

His hands settled on her hips.

Firm.

Still.

“You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think you like testing people because it tells you whether they’re actually paying attention.”

She tried to smile.

“You think you got me figured out already?”

“No.”

“Good answer.”

“But I’m learning.”

His thumb moved against her hip.

“You get louder when something makes you nervous.”

Her smile faded slightly.

“You get sarcastic when you don’t know what’s coming.”

She looked away.

He almost reached for her chin again.

Almost.

Then stopped himself.

She noticed.

Looked back at him.

“You remembered.”

“Of course I remembered.”

Something in her expression changed.

“You can tell me no.”

“I know.”

“You can tell me to stop.”

“I know.”

“And if you stay right here…”

His fingers touched the edge of the collar.

“…I’m going to assume you want to keep going.”

She didn’t answer immediately.

He waited.

She looked at him.

Then reached up, caught the front of his shirt and pulled him closer herself.

“Stop talking.”

His eyebrow lifted.

“That a command?”

“Maybe.”

He smiled.

“There she is.”

She held his gaze.

“Prove it.”

That was the moment the playfulness finally changed.

Not because he lost control.

Because she had chosen to stop fighting for hers.

Much later, the room was quiet again.

The collar was still around her neck.

She was curled against him, head resting against his chest while his fingers moved slowly through her hair.

No commands.

No attitude.

Just quiet.

He handed her a glass of water.

She took it.

He laughed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, say it.”

“You finally accepted something without arguing.”

She took another drink.

“Don’t get used to it.”

“There she is.”

She smiled against his chest.

A few minutes passed.

Her fingers found the edge of the collar.

“You want it off?”

She thought about it.

Then shook her head.

“Not yet.”

His hand went back to her hair.

No teasing.

No clever line.

Just warmth.

Eventually she touched the buckle again.

This time he waited until she looked at him.

She nodded.

He reached behind her neck and opened it.

The leather loosened.

Cool air touched the skin underneath.

She rubbed the spot where it had been.

“So that’s Friday?”

He set the collar beside them.

“No.”

“What was it then?”

He looked at her.

“Your first Friday.”

She smiled.

And for the first time all week, Monday felt very far away.

[k2****]

🔥