CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: WEDDING PLANNING BY DAY, BDSM PREPARATIONS BY NIGHT
Three days later, I was freshly showered, anointed in oil, and- well, made fresh down there as I was kneeling in the middle of Salim’s playroom known as the Black Diamond Suite. After two days in the hospital getting much-needed rest and receiving a lot of visitors from the fashion and culinary world while making sure that I ate basically anything that was placed in front of me (“You’ll be thanking us later when you got a little muscle and fat on that slender body of yours,” Zsa-Zsa as a modern-day Bette Davis replied as she placed a giant plate of grilled chicken Alfredo with penne followed by a spinach salad and a giant glass of mocha-flavored milkshake alongside Miss Natalie’s specialized blackberry cobbler for dessert), I was finally ready to dive into Salim’s world of BDSM.
But first, here was my day after spending the night with the Vinsons (they were extremely worried about me on the second night spent in the hospital)…
“So, Isaiah, for your “London in Winter’ theme, I was thinking about the colors to match since the wedding is this October,” Catalina said as she looked over some notes in her portfolio as Natasha, Shadie, and I were riding in the limousine on the way to a floral shop in lower Compton. “I thought about making the season be more of the autumn theme with shades of red, gold, brown, and black.”
Shadie scrunched up her nose. “Girl, you’re thinking of Harry Potter,” she said. “Maybe keep the gold and black and change the red to something of the orange shade, like pumpkin or copper.”
“No way,” Natasha replied. “Maybe make it alongside the colors of Ireland- deep green, ivory, and maybe silver.”
“Guys, guys,” I heard Catalina pipe up. “Maybe we should let- wait, Isaiah, are you okay.”
All the while, I was in deep meditation as I saw the colors I had in mind: smoky mauve, silver gray, mint green, ivory, and…honey gold. I opened my eyes, exhaling a deep breath as I gave them a smile.
“Oh, bitch. Izzy boy just saw the colors in his head,” I heard Shadie drawl. “What are they, honey? What are they.”
Okay. Since the wedding is in October but we’re doing a winter theme in London, I was thinking of mint green for the peppermint-flavored coffees that’ll be around, smoky mauve for the setting skies on a clear day, silver gray for the overcast clouds that are apparent before a storm, ivory just because of the fact that I’ll be wearing white, and-“
“Honey gold because of the molten gold that you hear in Salim’s voice,” the women said in unison.
“I love it,” Catalina gushed. “How the hell did you-“
“That’s Isaiah for you,” Shadie and Natasha finished in unison, them clinking their champagne glasses.
After selecting the floral arrangements with Macy Franklinton, the cousin of Taffy Ganache (real name: Terrance Waltrip), we were at Firenze Bakery talking shop of all things wedding cakes with the Frazier women alongside Nebraska, Lady X, Mariah Dior from Mariah’s Bar and Grill (Mama Mariah was there as well), and Marias. And currently, we were beginning the heated topic of fondant versus frosting.
“But fondant is the main foundation of any fancy wedding cake,” I heard Nebraska rebutted after Mama Natalie had refused to top the chocolate-and-raspberry cake with the rolled-on-frosting (“It’s a mockery of all wedding cakes,” the older woman had insisted). “And it’s less messy to work with.”
“But not all of them are homemade,” Mama Mauretta said as she sat down a nicely-proportioned serving of berry parfaits with granola as a late breakfast. “And you know that my grandson would agree. None of us used that stuff and it’s not going to start now.”
“Preach,” Lady X said. To me. “What say you, honey bunches?”
“They got a point,” my mama said, looking up from her batter of homemade biscuits. “Your father and I never had that fondant on our wedding cake. “Then again, I can’t really tell you that since said wedding cake was actually a homemade pound cake with orange glaze, so I can’t talk. Now there’s an idea right there- keep it simple yet classy…”
“Why not do the cake with the homemade buttercream frosting, and maybe another for those who want fondant?” I suggested. “And maybe something alongside a no-frosting theme- say a two-tiered pound-cake confection dripped with a glaze?”
“Perfect! But why the suggestion?” Mariah asked.
I told them on how my mother had her and my father’s “wedding pound cake” and they had loved it- based on the stories I heard from my mother’s friends in high school when they met me before graduation from high school. “Plus, simple is more nowadays,” I finished. “But we’re going to have a lot of guests, not counting those coming for the Saint Croix-Frazier-hosted fall festival, who will be at the wedding reception from both sides and from my inner circle attending, so maybe diversify the wedding cakes.”
I felt Mama Mauretta’s warm-as-buttermilk-pancakes smile reach me. “That’s a capital idea,” she said. “We should’ve done that for Daniel and Natalie’s wedding.”
“I heard that,” Mama Natalie responded. “Now, edible gold or no?”
There were a chorus of ‘no’ from all sides, including me. “But there’s no law against edible crystals or flowers,” Catalina piped up.
“Point!” Mama Mariah said.
“Child, you need to work on those nails!” Coco Davenport exclaimed as she gazed down at my fingers as she, Aria, and Carlotta sat in front of me with myself between Cassie and Mrs. Callaway (a former events planner herself) joined me for a lunch powwow to discuss the food for the reception. “Didn’t those workers from the salon and spa came over to the hospital?”
My eyes went wide. “Oh, they had to cancel at the last minute. Mr. Jin Yi and his daughter-in-law An Xing had a wait due to another celebrity getting her wedding preparations ready,” I had explained, “but the receptionist who came over before I was whisked off for a check-up said that I can have a complete day of relaxation and pampering the day after tomorrow. Plus, I can have a few friends over. She also brought by some MSG-free chicken lo mein and sautéed snow pods with brown fried rice.”
“I knew that Lin Zhou can be trusted to feed you well,” Aria said. “But still, you’re going to be a part of the inner circle with us. Meaning you always get to the head of the line.”
“Y’all, don’t fuss over the boy,” Miss Laura admonished everyone as she came over with her fellow waiters- her nephews- came over to serve us our lunch, “but you will be getting prime choice first, Izzy baby. Now, about the menu. I’ll be working with the chefs at La Venizia and they got some items that’ll be made for sampling tomorrow. But I want to know that anyone will have any allergies to some ingredients.”
“Miss Laura, Mrs. Amerson- the mother of that fallen harlot- said that she’s allergic to gluten,” Mrs. Callaway piped up.
“We got gluten-free options,” the manager said. “Anything else?”
“We might want to have a separate menu for those allergic to milk and anything made with peanuts,” I notified. “You remember Dan’Yetta Lanier? She’s lactose intolerant, which is why she’s eating the fruit-based desserts.”
“Right,” Miss Laura said. “I know someone at the Italian upscale place who makes a mean chicken parmesan using soy-based cheese.” She wrote down her notes. “And I’ll keep Pap-Pap Amerson from the calorie-laden items since he’s pre-diabetic. But for you, Isaiah? You’ll be adding some fat on those bones. Thank God that I got you in mind for this general menu- from the oven-baked chicken wings for the appetizer and the veal marinara for the meat course to the three-cheese rotini for the pastas and the shrimp salad for the salad/soup course. And you know Mama Mariah’s throwing down with some of her items.”
“Dear, eat your food,” Mrs. Callaway reminded me. “You have Cousin Willie’s oven-fried chicken, the collard greens, and some macaroni and cheese.”
“Thank you,” I replied, immediately grabbing my silverware and chowing down. “And what about Mr. Sayers and his allergy to shellfish?”
“No worries about that,” Miss Laura proclaimed. “And he’ll be having his own menu with those people with shellfish allergies as well.”
“I think we’re all set then,” Carlotta said. “Oh, and make sure to save room for dessert, Isaiah love. We got extra helpings of key lime cake for you.”
“That’s on the menu as well,” Aria said. “And make sure to take seconds home. You’re burning more calories alone. How the hell do you do it?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Good genes, I guess,” I replied.
“Hey, Isaiah,” I heard Evita say as I felt the sewing needles of the couturier work her magic as the fiery Latina drag queen, Zsa-Zsa, Anastasia, Maria, and Cassie were at the Valentino Pour Homme studio where I was being measured for my tuxedo. “Are you sure that you don’t want any of the domestic wines from Arizona? They’re becoming quite popular these days.”
“Positive,” I replied, wincing the prick of a needle hitting my butt. “They’re not the right palate for the reception. Plus, Salim’s not too fancy of those wines.”
“Good answer, young comrade,” I heard the thick accent of the Russian beauty. “We were testing your palate. You got one hell of a tongue.”
“Obviously he took wine classes,” Maria assented. “Right?”
“Yeah, but I couldn’t really sample the wine until I turned 21 during junior year so I waited until I reached the age to fully participate the class. One taste of one of those Arizona wines and I swore off it completely. But I do want some of those from Sonoma wines, though. I sampled one with a chicken platter I made for a classmate one time. Pretty good, if you ask me.”
“Alas, one step forward and two steps back,” Evita said sorrowfully as she entered into the fitting room, her frown coming at me in waves of green. “Hell no. Valentino isn’t for you, baby. Ladies, they got him in a gray hot mess.”
The other two queens screamed in horror, making my eyes widen in surprise. And I knew that I was wearing a major faux pas. Time to roll on out.
“Darling, you think that you’ll be ready for tonight?” I heard Imani (real name Amir Muhammad Saint Matthews ask me in a teasing voice as she, Honey, and Marcus were at Mariah’s enjoying a well-earned light dinner of chicken Caesar salad (for them) and a giant taco salad with all the trimmings (save for the guacamole since I hated avocado) for me.
I felt Marcus’ teasing grin aimed at me. “Man, last time I heard, Salim said about you doing a private scene in his playroom,” he chuckled. “And I don’t need to be gay to know what that means.”
My eyebrows were raised high as I felt myself blush in embarrassment. “You mean-“ I began.
“Yep, bunny boy, you’re going to dive into the world of BDSM, which means Bondage/Discipline, Dominance/Submission, and Sadism/Masochism,” Honey drawled, nudging me to drink some of my iced tea. “And you’ll need to learn the basics.”
I took a deep breath. I never knew that it’d be so soon to go into my fiancé’s world so soon. But then again, after all that happened, one should always be prepared for anything and live life like it’s the last.
What the hell, am it right? “All right,” I said. “Talk to me about the main basics.”
And so, for the next forty to fifty minutes, I was indoctrinated into the world of BDSM. It’s mainly about the pleasure and pain side of things, used in a sensual manner. Sometimes- if used in the proper manner- it can be a part of a couple’s private lifestyle. For the submissive, it means surrendering total control to the Dominant in question and enjoying the pleasure and the pain aspects. For the Dominant, it’s about taking care of the submissive’s needs and wants. For a long-term relationship, the Dominant may help the submissive out in goal-setting and life choices. Punishment is used to correct the submissive’s behavior but rewards are also involved as well. There’s also safe words for when things are need to slow down or when things are too much and that the submissive wants to stop before things go too far.
I definitely need to read one of the books from Dr. DuSable’s reading list on Wattpad to brush up. And I also need to do my research.
“That’s a lot right there,” I said, taking a bite of my taco salad. “But I guess I went into this relationship with a clear mind and so I’m going all in on this. There’s no time to turn back now.”
“That’s the spirit right there,” I heard Jarvis say to me as he came to our table. “I came to get you prepared for tonight. And by the beginning of tomorrow, you’ll definitely need to eat a LOT of food because Salim is going to wear you out but you’ll be a WHOLE new man!”
Well, damn! If there’s anyone who has some experience, it would be my future brother-in-law and soon-to-be fellow submissive. “You think that I can handle this?” I asked him in a soft tone, my nerves about to go on high alert.
Sensing my panic, Jarvis snapped his fingers and immediately my nose was greeted with the familiar scent of Earl Grey tea with a peppermint inside. “Kid, you only live once,” he told me as he handed me the tea. “And as much as you feel like sprinting away from him, you know that Salim will never harm you or make you feel like some sort of slut. And if he does, then the queens will slug him with Natasha and the other ladies and my friends killing him.”
“Preach,” said Marcus taking a bite of his salad.
“Thanks,” I said, finishing the tea before standing up and collecting my things. “Looks like it’s time to get ready for the night of my life. Wish me luck!”
“Don’t let Salim hurt you!” Honey hollered after me as Jarvis and I headed for the waiting limo to be primped and coiffed into the submissive for the Dominant with the molten-gold voice.
And now…here I was with my whole nerves calm while my inner sex slave was a world-class figure skater ready to make his performance on the ice rink as he took the center of the arena in a fifth position.
I heard a door open and shut before Salim’s footsteps made their way towards me. “Ah, you look so delicious to eat, my love. By entering in my room, you immediately become my submissive- to do to you as I see fit. You will not speak to me unless spoken to, but tonight is all about making you feel more of the young prince that I see in you. And I assume that you have your safe words ready?”
“Yes, sir,” I breathed, keeping my head bowed and voice low. “They are ‘velvet’ to slow down and ‘silk’ to stop.”
“Good,” Salim purred in my ear as he helped me to rise to my feet. “You will never be punished for using your safe words. And tonight, it’s all about the power of touch: melted wax, ice, silk, and my flogger. But first, I’ve not had my dessert. And you’re the perfect treat for me.”
Never let it be said that Salim never has the right words to make this blind man feel weak in the knees and hard as a rock. All I can say is…tonight is going to be unforgettable!
I was so sure of it!