Surrender To More By
Trust. A simple notion for some, but impossibly out of reach for Jessica Riley. The walls around her heart are built high from betrayal and years of keeping everyone at arm’s length. She’s happy with the way her life is, or so she thought. Hard core Dom, Lucas Clark, was immediately drawn to Jessica. As their paths continue to cross, Lucas tests Jessica’s submissive nature, as well as her steadfast resolve to keep her emotions out of her relationships. He wants more than just sex. He demands Jess’ trust. The one thing she keeps locked away. As their bond intensifies, Jessica fears that this Greek God will put the pieces of her heart back together. Family, marriages and ghosts of her past all plague her ability to trust her own decisions, especially the ones that revolve around love. A woman who’s afraid of heart break fights her own surrender against the man who doesn’t let her play it safe anymore.
One My phone blinged an incoming text. I’m back! I’ve had the best time. We need to meet up soon. Izzy I smiled. Izzy’s honeymoon was two weeks too long as far as I was concerned. I’d missed her. Yeah! Glad you’re back. I’d love to meet up. Just let me know when. Jess I’m relieved my best friend is back in contact. The last two weeks have weighed heavily on my mind without Izzy to talk with. Since Izzy’s wedding, I’ve not been able to settle. I’ve stuck to my usual set of rules that have kept me in one piece—my heart intact—for the last eight years. No emotional commitments. But, standing beside Izzy as she married Seb, for the first time, I doubted myself, and it scared me. Seeing the love radiate from Izzy as she spoke her vows, pledged her love and watched as Seb mirrored it all back to her, was something to behold. There could be no doubt as to their love, and suddenly I felt small in the face of it. Have I done the right thing all these years? I picture myself as a lonely old woman. The fear that image engenders almost matches the pain of walking in on Pete in bed with my friend. Almost. Did you want to meet for a coffee? Or I can pop over. Izzy Come over. I’ll put the kettle on. Jess
I’ve never wanted to see Izzy more than I do right now. The last year has been hard on her, and I’ve had to help pull her through. Now, I need Izzy to help pull me out of my funk. I need her to help me talk out my fears because they were beginning to preoccupy my mind. Was I too shut off to change? Did I want to change? Would the potential for hurt outweigh the chance for something meaningful? “Hello!” Izzy calls from the hall. Excitement rings in her voice in that single word. “In the kitchen.” She bursts through and lights up the room. The smile on her face is infectious. I put the cups of tea on the table and pull her into a huge hug as she drops her bags. Izzy has calmed my anxiety by simply being here and for that, I love her a little bit more than I did yesterday. “So, how was it?” “Oh, Jess. It was wonderful. It was everything I wanted. New York was amazing and so were his parents. We ate out so much.” “I’d love to go to New York.” “Well, now we could go and have a girls’ weekend. Oooh, we could go shopping.” “Really, you know I hate shopping.” “Which is why I got you these.” She pulls a shoebox from the bag and sets it on the table. I stare at the box and then back to her. “Well, go on then,” she encourages. I peek under the lid and see a red velour cover. I raise my eyes to Izzy, who simply nods like an excited puppy, encouraging me to explore further. I open the box properly, pull the material bag open, and pull out two black shoes.
“Do you like them?” Izzy immediately takes one from my hand, holding it as if it were a delicate piece of porcelain. “They’re lovely. Thank you. But I already have black shoes.” “But these are Louboutin’s. You don’t have these. These are the pinnacle of shoes. You’ll love them.” Izzy puts the shoe back on the table as if she was presenting me with Cinderella’s glass slipper. “You know you’re the shoe girl. I’m not sure I’ll ever get to wear them. You should keep them.” “I have my own, besides, I bought these for you. Please take them. Even if you just look at them.” She’s lost her marbles. I can’t contain the burst of laughter that explodes from my mouth. Izzy soon joins the giggles, and we take a while to get our hysterics under control. “I love you Izzy, but only you could think about buying shoes just to look at them.” “I know. These are very practical. I made sure not to get the…” “Enough about the shoes. I like them, and I’ll attempt to wear them. Happy?” “Ecstatic. Now, what’s been happening here with you?” Her question dampens my earlier elation, and I’m right back to reality. “I ended things with Greg.” “Really? How come? I was hopeful, you know. You’ve been seeing him for a while.” “Yes, but he kept pressing me about moving in together. No matter how many times I told him, he couldn’t accept that I wanted nothing permanent from our relationship and
kept pushing me. He wasn’t the confident guy I first liked. He wanted me to fit in with his plan, and I wasn’t okay with that so…” “You ended things.” I can’t miss the slight sigh at the end of Izzy’s reply. “Your wedding sort of hit me and not how I expected it to.” “I’d be surprised if you weren’t affected. Were you okay? I was pretty pre-occupied once we got there.” “And so you should, it was your wedding. I was fine, really. Just it got me thinking. You know, about my rules and the future.” “And…” “And, I don’t know. I feel scared. I know I’m not going to find love…” “You don’t know that…” “Izzy, I do. I’m done with love. And I’ve been okay with that. I just hadn’t realised being done with love also meant I might be alone for the rest of my life. That is… a great big slap in my face. Greg isn’t the one for me, but what if I’m being too protective of my heart?” “Would you be willing to talk to someone about how you feel? Amanda Cross really helped me. Maybe you could talk to her?” I close my eyes in dread at the mere thought of dragging up what I’ve spent eight years trying to forget. I turn the cup of tea around in my hand and try to pretend Izzy didn’t ask me that question. “Jess, what do you think?” “I’m not sure. I’m not sure I’d be comfortable with talking to a stranger.”
“She’s a lovely woman who will put you at ease. You don’t have to worry about her. Plus, you said you’re confused over how you’re feeling.” “I’m not confused. My past history with men has led to abandonment and pain. Seeing you stand up in front of your nearest and dearest has put my situation into a stark light. I’m scared of what my future holds.” “Even more reason to book an appointment. You can take it as slowly as you like with her. You will feel better, perhaps even be able to get a better perspective.” “Okay,” I whisper, feeling panic rise as the air leaves my lips. “Excellent. I’ll text you the number to make an appointment.” Izzy drinks her lukewarm tea. I suddenly need a stronger drink. “Oh, Seb and I thought we’d have a few people over for dinner in a couple weeks. You’ll come won’t you?” “Sure, when is it?” “Two weeks’ time. Saturday night. It’s sort of a dinner party thing.” “Will anyone be there that I know?” “Umm...Natasha and whoever she brings. You remember Natasha, right? Seb’s friend?” “Yeah...I think so. Tall, assertive brunette? Really attractive?” “Yes. I would have said bring Greg, but I’m not sure how you feel about that now.” “I made it clear to him we aren’t going anywhere. Can’t I come on my own?” “Of course you can. You know that.” She finishes her tea and fawns over the new shoes one last time before I grab her bag from the floor. “Right, I need to get home. I’ll text you. Let me know about seeing Amanda.”
“I will. See you soon.� I close the door on Izzy, head back to the kitchen and pull out the bottle of wine in the fridge. Devil heels and exposing my raw insides to a stranger, all in one quick catch up. I deserve a glass.
Two My appointment with Dr. Cross is set for five. Despite all of the encouragement and reassurance from Izzy, I still dread this. Light spills from the glass fronted building illuminating the dark winter evening. I pull open the heavy door and sign in at the reception desk. I sit and wait on one of the plush sofas and try not to feel impatient. My phone vibrates and I pull it from my bag, only to shove it back in when I see Greg’s name on the screen. He is the last person I want to hear from, although he doesn’t seem to be getting the message. I hear the phone vibrate again and ignore it. If Greg wants to talk, then he can leave a voicemail. I check my watch and the clock above the door. It’s already ten past five. This isn’t your ordinary GP surgery where you expect to wait for your appointment. Izzy didn’t mention the £90 a session price tag either. I walk back over to the polite, young receptionist. “Excuse me. Do you know how much longer I’ll be waiting to see Dr. Cross?” “I’m sorry ma’am. Dr. Cross is running a little behind. She’ll be ready to see you shortly.” “Thank you.” I sit back down and mentally calm myself. I’m being bitchy and it’s because being here, talking to a professional about my… feelings, means I need to own up and face the cause of it.
“Excuse me, Miss Riley?” Every atom of my being responds to the deep smoky voice. “Yes.” My breathy response embarrasses me. “Um, yes. That’s me.” I straighten in my seat before I turn my eyes up to the man who spoke my name. Holy Jesus Christ! A tall, dark haired, green-eyed Adonis stands before me. He holds out his hand to introduce himself. “I’m Dr. Clark. Dr. Cross is running a little late. I thought I’d start with some of the paper work while we wait.” His lips move and I’m transfixed. My arm moves of its own volition towards his palm. My hand slides into his and the gentle squeeze of his fingers around mine melts a part of me. We shake. The contact lasts longer than I’d usually be happy with. Not this time. I don’t want to drop his hand. “Pleased to meet you.” I don’t recognise my own voice. I look up into his eyes and see them darken. The pupils grow wider. My heart beats wildly in my chest, and I sit down before my legs give out. Dr. Clark steps around me and takes a seat at the other end of the sofa. A cool, fresh scent fills my senses as he passes. Yum. “If you would fill this out, please.” He hands me a clipboard with some papers attached to it. I focus on what he’s handed me. Name, address, date of birth… mundane basic information to register with The Clark Practice. I dutifully start writing my details. I try not to sneak glances at Dr. Clark, but I can’t stop myself. I’m magnetically drawn to his stubble covered jaw, his forest green eyes. He hasn’t stopped his observation of me. That thought heats my body faster than baking in the mid-day sun.
He sits and leans forward, his weight supported by his forearms on his knees. I watch as he knits his fingers together, flexes them and then repeats. His hands are the only part of him that moves. I want to know what those fingers are capable of. I want to push him back in his seat and climb on his lap and let him work his hands over my body. Holy crap! My hand scribbles the remaining information across the form, and I focus—hard—on stopping my eyes from lifting. I fail. “Here you are.” I hand the paperwork back and he accepts. His eyes penetrate me. They make me feel like he’s reading every nuance of my body, that he enjoys what he reads in me because I’m an open book to him. His lips twitch into a fraction of a smile, and my eyes dart to his mouth. They shouldn’t have. Now, in addition to his hands, I want his lips all over my body. “Thank you, Miss Riley. Dr. Cross is ready to see you now.” My forehead furrows, still lost in the fantasy that stars the lips and hands of the man standing in front of me. “Miss Riley? If you’re ready?” A woman’s voice breaks the spell, and I land firmly back in the waiting room of The Clark Practice. Amanda Cross stands to my side with a smile on her face, indicating I should follow her. “Yes, of course. Thank you.” I pick up my bag and head towards the consultation rooms. I hope I don’t look as flustered as I feel. I follow as Dr. Cross leads the way down the corridor and enters a warmly lit room. She shows me to the sofa. I take off my coat and take a few deep breaths. “I’m sorry I was running late. I see you’ve already filled in the patient start up information. So, Miss Riley.”
“Jess, please. And it’s fine, really.” “Okay then, Jess. Did you want to start by telling me why you made the appointment?” Dr. Cross takes a seat in the chair next to the sofa, a warm and open smile on her face. I can see why Izzy thought she was easy to talk to. She looks comfortable, at ease within herself. I could never imagine her holding any ill will or judgement against anyone. “Well, a friend of mine recommended you. I’ve been… confused over my feelings, and she thought talking to you might help to clarify them for me.” “Okay. Please understand that each individual patient has different needs, and I will work to help you find the solutions to yours. If you want to expand on the reason you’re feeling confused over your feelings, and what they are in particular, we can take it from there.” Another warm smile graces her face and I take a moment to order my thoughts. I’ve taken the hardest step. I’m here, ready to gain some sense of direction that will stop me from feeling so lost. “I don’t really do commitment when it comes to relationships, and the last guy I was seeing was pushing for something more permanent. I had always made it clear where I stood, but he seemed to feel he was the exception.” I pause to see if Dr. Cross will ask anything. She doesn’t and silence fills the air. “Has your aversion to commitment impacted your everyday life?” “Umm, up until a friend’s wedding, I would have said no.” “So the wedding has been the catalyst for your current feelings?”
“Yeah.” I look up towards the wall and scan for a clock. I could feel my skin on my neck prickle with every new question. “Seeing her so happy, so fulfilled, so in love, made me wonder if I’d really considered the consequences to my actions.” “And what are the consequences?” “I don’t want a serious relationship, but I’m beginning to worry that I’ll end up alone. Iz..., I mean my friend’s marriage, was a wake-up call. I’m not under the impression I’m suddenly going to fall in love. But should I move forward, you know, in a relationship, if that’s the natural next step. Should I settle?” “Is there a reason you don’t commit in your relationships?” “Yes.” Just thinking about the why turns my blood cold. I let my eyes close and summon the strength to get through an abbreviated version of my heartache. “I was in love. Twice, actually. Pete broke my heart. I thought he was the one for me. After him, it took me a long time to trust another guy. I did. Daniel… well it turned out he wasn’t for me either.” I contemplate telling her, but can’t bring myself to admit the humiliation I felt. “After giving my heart away and having it returned in pieces, it was easier not to let my emotions get involved. That’s how I’ve protected myself.” I can’t feel like that again—that broken, utter sorrow that seeps into your very being and threatens to drown you. I wouldn’t let myself go through that again. I close my eyes and push down the pain that rises, still, after all these years. “Your past experiences have taught you that loving someone will result in pain. So you’ve avoided it?” “Yes.”
“Okay, and so now you’re worried about settling. Can you tell me what that means to you?” “Well, I’m not in love with Greg. But he’s nice. We have a good time and he wants to move in together. I know I won’t get another chance at love. I don’t know if it’s fair to move a relationship forward when I’m not emotionally attached. Or if I should settle for the good aspects that are there.” “Do you feel comfortable, picturing living like that?” As she asks me the question, my gut turns. I would be a total bitch if I did that to someone—lulled them into a permanent relationship when I had nothing to give them. If someone treated me with such little thought or consideration, I’d be furious. “Not really.” I sigh, deflated, but pleased I’m being honest with myself. “So, if you know you can’t settle, I want to work at getting you to open up in your relationships.” “I won’t be able to do that. I’m not prepared to be hurt like I have been.” I’m happy to talk to her, but there is no way I’m putting my heart on the line again. “Okay. Then perhaps we can talk about what you want to try to achieve. These sessions are about you. I’m not here to push you into something you don’t want. Perhaps you could tell me what you believe will make you happy?” “Who says I’m not happy?” “In my occupation, it’s unusual to see someone when they are truly happy.” Her innocent, welcoming smile begins to grate. I can’t get angry or frustrated with her. I’m finally at a point where I can look at all this stuff I’ve buried away. I blank out for a few minutes and run the conversation around in my mind.
“Thank you, Dr. Cross.” “Please, call me Amanda. I think there are a few aspects we can talk through. I want you to understand this won’t be fixed in a single session. I can see that talking about this isn’t comfortable for you. I’d like for you to try and think about how you’re feeling and write it down in a journal. It will help to focus your thoughts and we can review them in your next session.” “A journal? Like a diary?” My scepticism rises at my homework. “Yes, if you like. Try to let your mind open up and write how you feel. This is only for you. No one else will see it.” “Okay,” I agree, reluctantly. “Jess, I already said this won’t be fixed overnight. We can have the sessions, but I think the journal will help.” “I’m sorry. I’ll do it, and I’ll come back. I need to.”
Three Admitting I want to work on—or at least confront—my commitment issues, has left me agitated and restless. I stop at home long enough to change and then head out to the gym. I don’t frequent the overpriced studio enough to do my hips any good, but I try and get a good run in once a week. Having no permanent beau means I’m in complete control of my time. I work hard and focusing my efforts on career progression, rather than family, has resulted in my position as divisional HR manager for Almeno, which provides the means to pay for the overpriced gym studio I’m heading to. As my feet slap the rubber of a treadmill, the beats of Avicii drown out the memories that surfaced during my conversation with Dr. Cross. I push my legs to run faster. My chest starts to protest as my lungs struggle to pull in the oxygen I need. I know I can run further and faster than I have, so I wait for my body to adjust and settle into the rhythm. With every beat my foot makes, my mind clears. I welcome the sweat dampening my flushed skin and the heat that climbs my spine, spreading across my body. Out of nowhere, I picture gorgeous green eyes watching me. My mind takes over from where we left off in the waiting room, and I mentally conjure Dr. Clark pulling me flush against his body. His lips dip to the hollow of my neck, and he licks the sweat off my skin. My daydream blossoms into a full blown fantasy, and I hit the stop button on the treadmill before I fall over.
My jelly-like legs carry me across to the water cooler where I attempt to cool off. Deep breath. Deep breath. I give up on the cardio and walk back to the changing room to have a cold shower. Fifteen minutes later I’m frazzled but heading back home. The handsome Dr. Clark still lingers in my thoughts all the way home. The restlessness that has been clinging to me is still there. The treadmill was supposed to rid my mood and my memories. It’s done neither. I throw my bag into the lounge as I pass on the way to the kitchen. I bypass the food in the fridge in favour of some liquid relief. I pour a large glass of white wine and drink half before making my way to the lounge and collapsing on the sofa. “Urghh,” I grumble to myself. “Snap out of it, Jess.” I dig my phone out of my bag and my night takes another tumble. The screen greets me with three missed calls and two texts from Greg. My head falls back against the sofa, and I lift my eyes to the ceiling and count to five. I swipe my finger across the screen and wait for the call to connect. “Hi, Jess. Thanks for calling me back.” “Greg, I’m not sure what all of this is about. I thought I was clear with you.” “You were. Don’t worry. But, well… as I know where we stand now, I thought we could see each other casually.” “Are you serious? All we’ve been is casual.” I can’t believe what he’s saying. It must be another one of his plans to get me to change my mind. “Yes. Despite the differing of opinion, we had a good time. If it’s a choice between seeing you on your terms or nothing at all, I’ll choose your terms.” My heart tightens in
my chest. Here is a great guy, who wants to get serious with me, and I’d rather run a mile in the other direction. Damn you Izzy and your wedding. “That wouldn’t be fair to you. You know how I feel.” “Come on, Jess. Think of it as friends with benefits.” I need my head examined. I know this isn’t the right decision to make. “Fine. Perhaps we can go to dinner. Izzy has a thing and suggested you come with me.” “Great. It’s a date. Let me know the details.” His chipper voice has me questioning my decision the moment I’d made it. “I will. Bye.” I end the call and toss the phone onto the coffee table. I down the rest of the wine and get up to rummage in the kitchen. I’m about to un-do the minuscule number of calories I burned off at the gym by indulging in some much needed chocolate. I grab the bar of Godiva and pull the card open, revealing the rich, comforting goodness. I snap the bar and leave one half in the packet, returning it to it’s safe place. I bring the few squares with me into the lounge and pick up my phone.
I’m bringing Greg to your dinner. I feel bad about it. He told me he’d rather have casual than nothing. I think I should have left things with him. Am I horrible? Jess No you’re not! You said you like him. Maybe things will happen with him? x
Not her as well. I stop texting and tap her name. “Oh hey.” She answers all cheerily. “Izzy, you know I love you right?”
“Yes, why?” “Because you’re acting crazy. How long have we known each other and how long have you understood I don’t do the commitment thing with guys? Just because I’m having a wobble, doesn’t mean I’m suddenly going to settle down with the guy I’m seeing.” I feel I’ve made my point quite clear. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Just after what you said and going to talk to Amanda, I thought you were considering changing that.” “Well, I might be. But that doesn’t mean Greg is the guy for me. And right now, it’s wrong to be seeing him at all.” I should call him back and tell him I’ve made a mistake. “What are you looking for?” Her question stumps me. “What do you mean? Like in a potential boyfriend?” “Yeah. Tall, dark, muscular, clever…” “You make it sound like a shopping list, Izzy.” I giggle and imagine how great it would be if you could just type in your requirements and have the perfect partner shipped to you. She laughs back at me. “Well, I don’t think I’ll be able to magic him out of thin air.” “Okay, well…” The image of Dr. Clark pops into my head, and I consider his characteristics. “Tall, green eyes, broad shoulders. Dark hair, maybe stubble or a little more than stubble.” “Greg has stubble.” She offers. “Yes, he does.” I laugh out. “Can you please let me deal with this. Pretend like I never mentioned my fears to you. This is all new to me, and I’m not even sure I can consider something that will involve my heart.”
“I’m sorry, Jess. I’m just so ready for you to find the one.” “Izzy, you know that isn’t going to happen for me.” “Yes, it can. I got mine. There is no reason you can’t too.” We’re both quiet for a moment. I love her dearly for being so optimistic, but I need to face reality. “Look, what are the plans for Saturday? Do I need to bring anything?” “No, well, Greg, but that’s all.” “If I bring him, do you promise to behave like nothing is happening. I don’t want you playing match maker.” “Fine. I promise. Get here at seven. Seb’s cooking.” “Looking forward to it.” *** The doorbell rings and I pick up my bag on route. Greg’s on time. I open the door and pull it closed behind me. “You look nice,” he offers. “Thanks. Are you happy to drive?” “Of course. You’ll have to give me directions.” We climb into the car and head off to dinner. It’s clear from the tense set of his jaw that Greg isn’t as comfortable as he used to be. Neither am I, and I can’t escape the feeling this is going to end in tears. I should have been stronger and not let him convince me dating would be fine between us. “Head into the centre and Pulteney Bridge. Their house is just off of it.” “Doing alright for themselves if they can afford that neighbourhood.”
“They’re still renting, although I’m sure it won’t be long before they find somewhere.” The conversation reminds me that although Izzy is happy now, it wasn’t always straightforward. It’s not like she had a magical fairy-tale. I’m getting myself wound up for nothing. I need to get a grip and get back to my usual, steady life. With no emotional connections. We pull up outside their townhouse and knock. “Hi! I’m so glad you came.” Izzy answers and is clearly happy to see us. “Nice to see you, Greg.” “Thanks for the invite, Izzy. This is a really nice house.” I can see the appreciation beam from his eyes as he scopes out the hallway. She takes my coat and we hug. “Seb’s in the kitchen, Greg why don’t you go through to the lounge. Jess, drinks in the kitchen?” “Sure, Iz.” I follow the delicious smells of garlic and chicken into the kitchen. “Hi, Jess,” Seb greets from behind the stove. He and I didn’t get off to a very good start, but I can’t deny how happy he makes Izzy. “Hi, smells wonderful. What’s on the menu?” “Salads for starters, then a chicken piccata, followed by tiramisu.” “Yum.” I look at Izzy, “What’s a piccata?” I mouth. She shrugs, clearly not bothered by the mystery dish. She hands me a large glass of wine. “What does Greg want?” “No idea, but he’s driving. Just a small glass before the food.” Izzy pours half the quantity into another glass and I take them both into the lounge. “Go on through. Natasha is here with her date,” Izzy instructs.
Greg stands by the fireplace and I walk over to hand him his drink. He takes it and leisurely slides his arm around my waist to pull me to him. I try and ease my body away, keeping a distance between us as I turn to greet Natasha. Dr. Clark is sitting beside Natasha and steals her attention. My eyes blatantly check him out. His lips tilt up behind the thick stubble and my stomach drops in response. I tear my eyes away in a flustered rush. Holy shit! Natasha stands to greet me, and I force myself to step towards her. We embrace. It’s awkward, more a polite greeting, before she sits back down. She cosies up to Dr. Clark and kicks one of her mile long legs over the other, angling her whole body towards him. Her perfect hair, her perfect body with perfect legs, are all far too close to Dr. Clark for my liking. “Down, Natasha,” he warns in that smoky voice. He stands and moves towards me. “Pleased to meet you.” He makes no reference to our previous meeting. I take his hand and much like the previous time, he holds my palm for longer than needed. My body sparks and is suddenly alive with excitement. “Lucas Clark, but please call me Luc.” His eyes smile at me and glint with some mystery I desperately want to uncover. “Jess Riley.” I breathe out, all sultry and smooth. All too soon, he moves past me to introduce himself to Greg. I blink a few times to clear the spell I was under and look at Natasha. She wears the wickedest smile. Her red lips promise mischief, and I know she can see I’m attracted to Luc. Who wouldn’t be? I pray she isn’t mad at me for my obvious reaction to her date. Her date. I need to get my reactions to Luc under control.
Jealousy sweeps my body and speeds my pulse. I take a big gulp of wine and inch back towards Greg, still looking at Natasha. Greg’s arm snakes around me and pulls me to his side. Natasha plasters herself against Luc. He finds my eyes before he deliberately moves his hand to slide up Natasha’s thigh. My breath catches despite my best efforts at being discreet. I turn to Greg and gulp down more wine, far too quickly. Izzy appears at the door and glances between us. “Jess? Everything alright?” Her voice is cheery, but she looks confused as she takes in my evident tension. “Good, everything’s good.” “Okay, well, dinner is ready.” My motion forward is halted by Greg’s clasp around my waist. He waits for Natasha and Luc to leave the room and turns to me. “Who the fuck is Luc?” He glowers at me. “Natasha’s date. I don’t know him.” I’m not about to go into details of our first meeting. He arches his brows at me and shakes his head. “Whatever. You seem a little too pleased to see him, Jess. Did you know he was going to be here?” “No, don’t be ridiculous. I had no idea who Natasha would bring, or if she’d bring someone at all.” My words taste bitter as I spit them out. I might be good at keeping my heart out of the equation, but that doesn’t mean my temper doesn’t get involved. I pull out of his grasp, take a seat opposite Luc and Natasha, and smile through my unease. Greg takes his seat beside me without another word. A sea of platters are laid on the table before us. Tomatoes, mozzarella, breads, cheeses and antipasti are all for the picking.
“Thank you for being here to celebrate with us tonight.” Seb breaks the frosty silence in the room. “Natasha, Jess, you’ve certainly been there for both of us. We appreciate it.” He lifts his glass. “To good friends.” “To good friends,” we all chime in. I try to keep my eyes from straying to Luc’s but I can’t. When I glance across at him, he’s already looking at me. His glass is raised and he presses the rim to his lips to drink. I want to be that glass. I want to feel his lips and tongue on my skin. He gives me an all-knowing smile before setting his glass down. “Help yourselves, there’s plenty.” Seb gives the green light and starts filling a plate for himself. I glance sideways at Greg. He looks decidedly put-out and spears the tomatoes viciously with his fork. I feel guilty. I’m here with him on a date, yet another man is firmly holding my attention. I compel myself to look at the delicious arrangement of food in front of us and set about serving myself a selection of the salads before turning to Izzy. “This is nice. Does Seb cook like this all the time?” “Yeah, he’s an amazing cook, although not normally in this quantity. Thankfully I love Italian.” “Me, too. This is delicious.” And it is. I’ve grown too accustomed to cooking for one or grabbing food on the go. Juicy, flavoursome food is a rarity for me, and I enjoy every bite. My earlier jealousy has settled, and I look at Natasha. She’s no longer pawing Luc, but she does have half an eye on me. I can’t read her. She doesn’t give anything away, and I’m not close enough to her to know how she would react to me liking her date. I
may not like the potency of the reaction I’ve had to Luc, but there is no way I could ever deny it’s there. Lust, full-bodied and fierce, bubbles through my veins for this man, and I’m not doing a very good job of masking my feelings. I should do better and I scold myself for being so brazen. “Luc, have you been with Natasha long?” Izzy breaks the quiet murmurings at the table. Her question stops Seb, Natasha and Luc in their tracks. Natasha rolls her eyes and makes a dramatic huffing sound. “No, sweetie.” She turns her stare on me., “We’re not together.” “Oh, sorry. Well then, Luc, how did you meet Natasha?” Another perfectly normal dinner conversation question, but Seb looks anything but comfortable with this. Luc’s smile is relaxed. “I’ve known Natasha for a number of years now. We have some mutual interests. We haven’t caught up in a while, and I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Izzy. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the wedding.” “That’s fine. I’m glad you could come tonight. It’s nice to meet another friend of Seb’s.” “Thank you for inviting me. It’s a pleasure to be here.” Luc looks directly at me as the words pass his lips. Our eyes lock, and I feel the crackle of electricity between us. His green eyes seem darker, more dangerous, and the air thickens with desire. I blink and look around the table. I need to look somewhere else. “So, Luc. What do you do?” Greg drawled. “I own a private health practice. I practice with Dr. Amanda Cross. You?” “Wait.” Izzy cuts in. “You own The Clark Practice?”
“Yes. I thought you knew that?” His eyebrows knit together in the most adorable way . “No, I didn’t.” She glares at Seb, who smiles wickedly at her. “So you are Amanda’s, I mean Dr. Cross’ boss?” Izzy finishes. “Yes. She’s very good at her job. We have strict protocols on doctor patient confidentiality. Please don’t worry about her breaching your confidence.” Izzy nods, retreating within herself a little. “What about you, Natasha? Izzy tells me you went to university with Seb.” I finally get to glean some information about Seb’s friend, the woman who can ask Luc for a date. “Yes, although that was a long time ago, now. We’ve both grown up since then.” She twirls her silky smooth black hair around her finger as she answers, and for a moment, I feel like she’s pulling me to her—like she wants my attention centred on her. It works. For a moment. I reach for my glass and take a sip. I want to watch Luc. I want to find out if he’s still watching me, but I don’t. The wine glass is empty all too soon, and I set it back on the table. I turn to Izzy, and she raises her brows at me in a silent question and nods her head towards Luc. I shake my head and resume grazing on the tomatoes. The flurry of conversation quiets as we all concentrate on the food. “Wine, Jess?” Luc asks. “Please.” As soon as he pours the wine, I take the glass and drink. This evening is turning into a train-wreck. I need more alcohol.
Four I manage to hold my nerve and my alcohol through the main course. Izzy steers the conversation into safer waters, and we settle into a form of companionable conversation. There are moments where Luc, Natasha, and Seb all look guilty, like they are hiding something. They act like they are in on some big secret the rest of us aren’t privy to. Greg is politely hostile. He’s been reticent during the light conversation, even being outwardly rude in response to my attempts at bringing him into the fold. He watches me like he’s waiting for me to say or do something. It was a mistake to believe in his pledge that he’d be alright dating as friends. I’ve quashed my response to Luc for tonight. I need to explain to Greg about the relationship we aren’t in. By the time the boozy tiramisu is in front of me, I feel inebriated. Soaked and full of alcohol, I giggle silently as I compare myself to my dessert. “What’s so funny?” Izzy leans into me. The gin has gone straight to her head too. Bless her. “I’m loving the pudding, Iz. I’m channelling my inner tiramisu.” I take a big spoonful, making sure I get lots of cream and let the coffee cocktail blend in my mouth. I have to hold back from shovelling the rest of the sinfully creamy goodness into my mouth. Luc takes a spoon of dessert. His lips suck the silverware clean and all the composure I’d gathered evaporates.
“Hey, mind if you stop eye-fucking him?” Greg isn’t subtle with his accusation. My eyes whip to Greg, shocked at his words. “I beg your pardon?” I whisper. “You heard me. You’re making me look a fool and I won’t have that.” He talks down to me and I bury the anger that is boiling in my stomach. “Let’s talk about it later, okay?” I encourage. I look down at my nearly empty dish and scrape the last of the pudding onto my spoon. “No, what the fuck is the point?” I look around the table and skip past Luc. The stare that Izzy aims at Greg can’t be missed. My eyes send her a silent apology. My chair scrapes against the wood floor, setting the room on edge. I stand and address Izzy. “I’m so sorry, please excuse us.” I face Greg. “Out. Now!” I march from the dining room, down the hall and yank the front door open. There’s no way I’m doing this with an audience. Loud stomps echo after me as Greg follows. He brushes straight past me into the frigid air, and I follow him out. “What the hell was that about?” I yell, now free to lose my raging temper. I draw several long breaths through my nose in an attempt to settle myself. Greg stops his pacing and comes back to confront me. “What am I to you, Jess?” His tone is softer, more cautious and I check my own anger. “You’re a friend, Greg. I thought I explained there wouldn’t be a future for us? You were the one that said you would rather be casual friends than have no relationship at all.” “And what about Luc, huh?”
“What about him?” “Well it looked like you were pretty comfortable with him. Tell me, is he the only one you’ve been flirting with since we’ve been together, or is it you just haven’t gotten around to sleeping with him yet?” Greg’s words drip with jealous spite, but they stop me in my tracks. There is one thing I would never, ever do, and that’s cheat. I’ve had my heart broken to the point I still don’t believe it’s in one piece. I would never intentionally do that to someone else. “I don’t cheat. I would never cheat on you, even if we aren’t seriously dating.” “But you’re happy to flirt with an almost stranger in front of me?” “I’m sorry. It wasn’t intentional.” “Do you like him?” He looks at me, pleading for me to lie. “I’m attracted to him, yes.” “Fuck!” “Look, this was a mistake. I shouldn’t have given you false hope by bringing you here. You’re a great guy…” “Leave it, Jess. I only told you all that crap to try and get you to come to your senses. Boy, did I choose the wrong girl.” He has the balls to smirk. “I don’t get it. You’re not getting any younger. Your best friend has just got married, but you’re still acting like a cheap slut.” “You have no right to judge my life or how I live it.” “Don’t worry, you’ve made that crystal clear. I’m only good to fuck.”
“And you couldn’t even do that right half the time.” My mean strike was more viscious than I intended, but the words are the truth. Greg needed my help in bed to get me off. “I think you better walk away.” I offer softly, the heat fizzling from our exchange. He strides to his car parked on the road, gets in and drives off. I’m pretty sure that will be the last I hear from Greg. I turn and creep back into the house and close the door as quietly as possible. Seb comes into the hall. “Everything okay?” “Yes, fine. Thank you.” “We’re all in the lounge. Can I get you another drink?” “Umm… yes. Bailey’s please, if you have it. And lots of ice.” “Coming up. Since Greg’s left, you’re staying in the spare room. I’ll drive you home in the morning.” He doesn’t say anymore and heads off to fix my drink. I take a deep breath for courage and then walk into the lounge, ready to face the questions I’m sure are waiting for me. “Hi, where’s Greg?” Izzy asks, looking past me to see if he’s behind. “He’s… gone home.” “Oh.” “Oh, indeed.” I whip my eyes around the room. The only available seat is the cosy sofa where Luc currently lounges. His arms are outstretched along the back, his legs out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. I take a tentative step in his direction and sit politely on the edge. Seb strides back in with a tumbler filled with the Irish cream.
“Baileys?” Izzy asks. She knows I drink this when I want to get drunk. “Baileys.” I answer. I take my first taste and forget all about keeping my distance from Luc. I slouch back into the seat and tuck my feet up under me. “I’ll be staying over. We can talk over breakfast.” I look at her, begging her to leave any questioning until we’re alone. She nods her head and a knowing smile crosses her face. *** “Morning!” “Morning. It’s far too early to be cheerful, Izzy.” I scowl, and let my head fall back, too tired to hold it up as I shuffle into the kitchen. “You were the one who wanted to get wrecked last night.” “I know. I was stupid.” My feet find the way to the kitchen table, and I collapse into the chair, burying my head on my arms in front of me. “Tea?” “Please,” comes my muffled reply. “Hey, come on. This isn’t like you.” I hear her, and I hate that she’s right. I’ve never been in this sort of mind funk before. I’m letting doubt and uncertainty fog my mind about what I want from life. “I know. I’m sorry. You’ve kind of thrown me for a loop.” I raise my head and see Izzy hovering with the tea. She shakes her head, dismissing this as her fault and sits down. She nurses her mug of coffee and waits for me to talk. It’s a testament to how well she knows me. I sip my tea to clear my throat. “What with your wedding, you getting your “happy ever after” and then Dr. Cross… I’m having a bit of an emotionally hard time.” Plus, all I
want to do is try and get to know Dr. Clark better. I keep that part to myself, though. After last night, I was sure I wanted to see him again. He was handsome, interesting and made my heart beat like it still had a purpose. “You still unsure about Greg?” “Oh no. I’m sure I don’t want anything to do with him again. It was my mistake to bring him last night.” “What about Luc?” Her lips purse and her nose twitches as she tries to keep a straight face. I look at her with my best poker face. “Oh, come on, Jess. Someone would have had to be blind not to notice the sparks between you two.” I bask in the recognition there was something between us, and it wasn’t all in my head. “You like him?” “I like him.” I admit. “Even though he was here with Natasha?” “They aren’t a romantic couple. I know there is something between the three of them, Seb, Luc and Natasha. They all seemed… in on a secret or something. Did you get that?” There were several times when they all seemed aware of something we weren’t. I take a sip of tea and look at Izzy. She twists the wedding rings around on her finger and does her best attempt at looking anywhere but in my direction. Guilty. “Spill it, lady.” I knew there was something. I just assumed Izzy wouldn’t be any the wiser than I was. “Well...” she sits on her hands and leans forward, “...Luc is like Seb. So is Natasha.” “What do you mean?”
“You remember when I told you about Seb dominating me? Well, he’s a Dominant. A Dom. So is Luc. And Natasha.” I remember the conversations we had when Izzy spoke about Seb and the bedroom stuff, but it never sparked any interest. She seemed completely bewitched by Seb and what went on between them. “So they like to call the shots in the bedroom?” “Yes… but it’s not as simple as that. It’s not all about the sex. A Dom and submissive need trust. It’s the bedrock, if you will, on which everything else is built. You give your trust and are rewarded, maybe through pleasure, and that trust grows. You grow stronger together. I trust Seb will love me and care for me. I give myself to him freely, and he gets satisfaction from the responsibility. Every D/s relationship is different. I need the dominance aspect inside the bedroom and a little outside. Seb knows and understands my limits. I trust him to be the one to respect me and our bond. I want to please him in all ways. When I please him, there’s nothing like it. Submission gives me a satisfaction I can’t get any other way. It’s like liquid gold running through your veins. He makes me feel like the centre of his world, and he is the centre of mine.” It’s evident this dominant/submissive stuff she talks about is right for her. Knowing Luc is into this makes me curious. “So, if Luc is like this, what does that mean for me?” “What, you mean if you want to see him?” Her eyes bulge at my question. “Yeah. You said yourself that we had chemistry.” “I don’t know. I’m not sure what his type is, or if he has a sub he plays with exclusively.”
“Does he only date submissives?” “I’m not sure, but I’d imagine so. It’s sort of part of being a Dom. He might not be like Seb but I haven’t seen him at Solace. You said you like taking control in the bedroom, and I’m not sure that will work.” She looks shy about what she’s saying, as if she’s trying to protect my feelings. Unfortunately, she’s laid down a challenge for me. I want to know more about Luc. “You said something about Solace. What’s that?” “It’s like a club-type place, a private club where people can go to… play.” Izzy’s cheeks flush and scorch her face red. “A sex club!” I can’t hide my shock. The last place on earth I would expect Izzy to visit is a sex club. “No.” She takes a breath as if she’s gathering her patience to explain this to me. “It’s this converted cottage slash stately home. There are bars and social areas, but there are private rooms as well.” “So an upmarket sex club?” I smile, teasing her a little. “Look, it’s hard to explain. I was in complete disbelief the first time I went. But, I like it. I enjoy being with Seb, and he knows my limits, and I trust him with them. We have fun.” Her lips twitch. Suddenly don’t want to know about what type of fun they have, but if I want to find out more about Luc, this would do it. I’d be able to see what Izzy means by a dominant. “Can you take me? Maybe without Seb?” “What!”
“Oh, come on. You can’t tell me about this sexy private club and not expect me to want to go.” “Are you sure?” “Yes, of course. Plus, you need to make sure Luc will be there.” My pounding head takes a backseat as I start to feel excited about seeing the man who’s hooked my attention. “Okay. I’ll speak to Seb, although, I’m not sure he’ll let us go alone.” “Will he at least keep a distance?” I envisage Seb hovering over us like an over protective father shepherding a daughter on her first date. “No promises.” She smiles, and her face lights up as if she’s been given a new pair of shoes. “Fine. Set it up. You’re going to have to fill me in first. And I want all the details this time, Iz.” It’s apparent my best friend has been holding out on me.
Five I hear a knock at the door followed by the faint creak of it opening. “Hi, Jess!” Our intended girls’ night in has morphed into Seb taking us to Solace. We were going tonight rather than next week. “Hi, what time is Seb collecting us?” “Not until nine, so we have time.” She walks into the kitchen where I’m fixing us a gin and tonic. “Only one of those. You definitely don’t want to be drunk at Solace,” she states. I hand her the drink and we clink. “Okay, spill. You need to prepare me for what I’m about to walk into.” I sip my drink, the alcohol adding to my anticipation of the evening. I’ve been craving the mere sight of Luc all week, although there are no guarantees he’ll be there. “Solace has lots of different areas to… explore. There are intimate bars and alcoves to have some privacy. It’s plush and gorgeous but can make you nervous the first time you’re there. Downstairs is the playroom where all the more personal stuff happens. There are lots of different stations and equipment that Doms and subs can use. The room we’re heading to is all public. People can walk past or stand and watch. Off from this room are some private bedrooms as well. In case you want… privacy.” Izzy hasn’t taken her eyes off of her drink through her little introduction. She’s been clipped and to the point and now her face is a nice shade of beet red. “Are you going to be okay with this? Me coming to Solace with you?”
She looks up with a start. “Yes, yes, of course.” “Good. Because you seem to be having a difficult time describing it to me.” This dynamic is new to our relationship. We’ve never gotten into the ins and outs of our sex lives. Not since she met Seb. “I’m sorry. It’s just a bit weird talking to you about it.” “I know hun. It’s not really a normal topic of conversation for us. How about you tell me what I need to know, and I can figure out the rest along the way. I’m a big girl. After all, you and Seb will be there.” “Great. Okay. Well, we’ll need to go through your wardrobe.” “But, I’ve already picked something.” “Seb made me wear next to nothing when I first went. It seems there is sort of a dress code. Revealing is number one on the criteria list.” She stands and picks up her drink. I follow as she leads us up to my room. “What were you going to wear?” I grab the silver top and skin tight trousers from the bathroom door. I show them to Izzy who scrunches her nose up. “No. You have great boobs. Show them off. Have you got a corset or something? Or a really low cut dress… lace…” She rummages in my wardrobe, chattering to herself. I sit on the bed and let her take the lead here. “Ooh!” She pulls out a red halter-neck dress I bought as part of a fancy dress costume but never wore. It’s low cut, thin and shows off my legs. Unfortunately, it also shows off my arse. “This is perfect. You can wear this.”
“Are you sure?” It would be indecent to wear it out to a regular bar. Imagining Luc and the look in his eyes at what little I’m wearing convinces me the dress is the right choice. “I’m sure. Plus, you can wear your new shoes.” I only just avoid rolling my eyes at her. I enjoy playing dress up—that is until the shoes come out. “So what else do I need to know?” Izzy drops down on the bed where I’ve been sitting. “It’s likely you’ll see Luc with a sub, another woman. Seb also said he’s got a harsh side to him. He’s a hard core Dom.” “Meaning?” “He likely uses edge play. It’s more advanced and can include knives, fire, electricity, or he’ll mess with your head. He’ll likely inflict pain, and he’ll enjoy it.” My stomach takes a dive at the prospect of being hurt. “Does Seb hurt you?” My voice carries shock that Seb might hurt Izzy. “No! Seb’s not a sadist. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t do things that make me wince. It’s everything I want in a sexual context. If you’ve not thought about this stuff before, it might be a hard concept to grasp. I love it when Seb spanks me.” “Like in an ‘I’ve been naughty; you need to punish me’ way?” I offer the closest analogy to help with my confusion. “Yes, for now, that will work. Everything Seb does to me, I want. I trust him and he trusts me. The same will be for whoever is playing with Luc. You usually negotiate and talk about what things you like and don’t like before playing together. What your limits are and what you want to try.”
“Okay. So I’ll have to talk about what I want to do with Luc?” I try and get the rules right. It seems there are a set of guidelines I need to follow. The thought is strangely erotic. I’d much rather show him what I’d like, but it seems that isn’t the way. “You still want to go and see him? He doesn’t know you’re coming.” “I know. I still want to go.” It wasn’t a lie, as I did want to see him. I was just a hell of a lot more concerned about exactly what I’d see, when I got there. *** Nearly an hour after getting into the car, we stand outside the entrance to Solace. The dark cloak of night has concealed the building, and only a few lights guide our steps to the door. I had to cling to Izzy as we crossed the drive. The heels she chose for me are decidedly dangerous, and I’m nowhere near stable on my feet. The dress is as minimal as I remember, barely covering my arse. To my shock, Izzy is completely without underwear, but reassured me I can keep mine on. A heavy oak door opens, and Izzy leads us inside. Sheer decadence springs to mind as I take in the reception. A polite ‘butler’ of sorts, takes our coats and I stay next to Izzy as Seb leads the way. He escorts us to a small bar that’s hidden behind a thick curtain of velvet. Stately manor chairs and upholstery fill the small area and Seb seats us on a Chesterfield sofa before leaving. “Where’s he going?” I whisper to Izzy. She’s not said a word to me since we arrived and a knot of nerves have woven themselves together in my stomach. “To get drinks. This will be the last alcohol for the night.”
“Why are we in the bar? I thought you said there was a playroom?” My nerves about visiting the rest of Solace combine with anticipation at seeing Luc and have made me a jittery wreck. “I think Seb’s going to explain some things first.” “You said he wouldn’t interfere.” Having the rules explained to me by Seb makes me feel like a child. “And he’s not. Look,” she turns to face me, “Seb’s looking out for you, and this is his world. His and mine, now. Just… I know you’re a big girl, but you might need a few pointers here.” I’m embarrassed by my poor behaviour. She’s right. This is completely new to me. I should be grateful for the help they are offering. “I’m sorry, Iz.”
“It’s great that you’re excited.” She smiles and reaches for my hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. She looks up as Seb brings three glasses and places them on the table in front of us. I gulp the fizzy liquid, thankful for one last dose of Dutch courage. Seb takes the seat opposite our sofa. His eyes are trained on me, and I feel the need to cower under them. My body naturally shrinks from his stare. Get a grip, Jess. I pull myself straight in my chair and meet his gaze, determination holding me in place. “Interesting. Jess, Isabel has told me she’s explained some of the elements pertaining to a Dominant/submissive relationship. She’s also told you about Solace.” “Yes.” “Good. For someone who hasn’t shown an interest in this type of relationship until recently, some of the things you might see will shock you. I ask that you respect that
people are here of their own free will and desire. You will not interfere with anything you see, and you will observe only—no comments. Do you understand?” The depth and strength of his voice assured there would be only one answer from me. “Yes. I understand.” “Good. You are here as my guest. If anyone approaches you or you feel uncomfortable, tell me immediately. Isabel asked me not to… intervene tonight. I won’t. But likewise, I won’t let you and Isabel walk around on your own.” The heat in his eyes turns scorching as he looks over at Izzy. She lowers her head and fidgets in her seat. “Drink your drinks and we’ll head down.” My glass has numbed my palms where I’ve clutched it throughout Seb’s talk. After another large gulp, I set the glass back down and avoid wiping my hands over my thighs to dry them. Izzy is far more relaxed in her actions. Her fidgeting gives away her nervous excitement. A slow minute creeps by and the longer we sit, the faster my heart beats and the louder it rings in my ears. Finally, Seb stands and assists Izzy up. I stand, balance in my heels and then ease around the sofa. Seb whispers something in Izzy’s ear, and she slows down to walk with me. We had the bar area to ourselves, and other than the butler, I’ve not seen anyone else. We walk a few feet from the bar, and I see what Izzy meant by lots of different areas. It’s such a fun idea to have small intimate rooms to meet people. I peer in as we walk past an area filled with cushions. My steps slow to a halt. Two men are sitting on stools at the far end. They match in their dark trousers and white shirts. A woman is
sprawled out in front of them. Her legs are spread wide, pegged open by the legs of the stools. I feel Izzy’s hand on the base of my back pushing me past the scene, and I tilt my head away, guilty about wanting to see what would happen next. Izzy’s hand leaves my back and wraps around my hand. She intertwines our fingers and I feel the edge of nerves rescind as her presence sings through my body. We approach a grand archway which opens to a spiral staircase leading down. The stone and black iron work is menacing in comparison to the previous indulgent interior and sends a shiver dancing up my exposed back. Seb continues his path down the stairs, and I force myself to calm my breathing. Izzy’s hand is firmly in mine. Our descent is steady, but I feel like I’m entering a new world. The underworld. I giggle at my own dramatics. The relief is needed. We turn left when we reach the bottom and walk along a dimly lit corridor. In front of us is a set of frosted glass doors. The atmosphere is heavy, like an invisible fog hangs in the air. Another ‘butler’ opens the doors for us, and Seb strides through without a glimpse backward. The music hits me as we step from stately home to basement of sin. Izzy has to tug my arm to get me to move my feet. One step after the other, we drift deeper into the room. Wooden and padded benches are positioned off to one side where a section of wall is decorated with what looks like whips. Izzy’s words about ‘pain’ and ‘hurting’ spring to mind, and I force my eyes to focus on anything but them. Seb seems to make a tour of the room. He slows as we approach a stage. In full shadow, there isn’t anything to watch. You can’t miss the imposing black crosses that tower over the floor. The two structures seem to emerge from the darkness like a
threatening force. I feel small against them, vulnerable. Feeling vulnerable was something I associated with the days after Daniel left me. Ice chills my excitement and straightens my spine. I won’t feel helpless again. The resolve built over the years to protect my heart hardens in place as we walk past. With my head up, I can’t escape seeing the scattering of figures that occupy the room. A man stands next to a padded bench with a woman draped over it, her arse clearly on display. To the other side of me, a few tables and chairs are arranged in view of the stage and the massive four poster bed seems tucked away in the corner of the room. Seb pauses and nods to an empty chaise which Izzy immediately walks towards and sits down. From our position, I can see the man we just passed is playing with the woman’s arse. The ‘slap’ as his hand connects with her skin makes me jump, and my heart kicks up in response. The man’s attention turns to me, and I snap my head around to find Seb, embarrassed at being caught watching. “Where’s Seb going?” I mumble, confused by his disappearing figure. Her gaze follows him. “I think he’s going to see where Luc is.” At the mention of his name, I strain my neck to see if I can see him. Nothing. “Do we wait here?” “Yes. So, what do you think?” She turns and waits for my response. I look around the room we’ve circled. The thuddy beats from the music vibrate through my feet. The heavy bass thickens the air, and together with the dim lights casts shadows, transforming the room into an intimidating space.
“It’s not the easiest place to relax in.” I lean towards her so she can hear me. “Does it get busier?” After my initial embarrassment, I tried not to look at the individuals playing around the room. “Yes, anytime now the floor will start to pick up. We’ve always come early. Seb doesn’t like too much attention.” She smiles as she informs me. Izzy settles back into the chaise. The splits on the side of her skirt give her plenty of movement. She reveals an expanse of creamy pale thigh as she crosses her legs. I sit back, too, and at least try to relax. We wait. The passage of time is marked by the repeated slap of skin on skin, and the increasing volume of lust and pleasure from the couple we saw at the bench. Her cries have been growing in line with my excitement. I’m at war with myself, desperate to turn around to see what the man is doing that has his woman sounding so vocal and so desperate. My eyes stay rooted to the corner and the bed. If I blushed, I’d be the same bright red shade Izzy so often turns. Yet here she is, relaxed and confident. She’s not fidgeting or looking around. More noise and more people fill the room. I can’t fight my curiosity any longer, and I glance around the room once more. The row of benches we passed when we first entered is now busy with people in various positions. A few other men sit waiting in front of the stage area. Two scantily clad women walk past and sit at a tall table off to one side of us. A few more people drift in and my excitement begins to sour, turning back into a tight ball of nerves. Perhaps this wasn’t such a great idea. The busier it gets, the more uneasy I feel. I’m very much out of my comfort zone.
“Izzy, I’m… starting to feel uncomfortable. Seb’s been gone a long time, and there’s no sign of Luc.” I stand up and look around to orientate myself to make a swift exit. “Jess, wait.” I turn back towards her and catch Seb walking over to us. I abruptly sit back down, not wanting to be seen giving up. Seb stands over us and greets Izzy with a caress of her cheek. She melts, her body softening to his touch. “I’ll leave you two here. I’ll be nearby.” He bends and kisses Izzy and then walks off into the dim of the room. I turn and watch his back disappear. It doesn’t escape my notice the two woman sitting near us also watch him walk off. A snowball’s chance in hell, ladies. I smile to myself, happy in the confidence that Seb is it for Izzy and viceversa. No doubts, no fears. Trust and love. At least my friend has found that. The stage is now lit along with the two black crosses. The sturdy wooden ‘Xs’ each hold a woman captive. Shadows creep from the stage to the few people gathered to watch. A mountain of a man paces between the two women carrying a whip-like thing in his hand. I turn away, nervous about what I will witness next. The couple on the bench from earlier are still there, only now, the man’s hips thrust his cock violently into her mouth. My eyes move from one sexual act to another, but I struggle to find the appeal in this environment. As I scan the area, my gaze falls on Luc. He stalks around the four poster bed. He pauses at the side to provide a perfect profile of his features. His hair looks slick. Wet. The arms of his shirt are turned up showing his muscled forearms. He’s gorgeous. The sight of him scatters all my anxieties like leaves in the wind. I want to go to him—to speak to him—but I follow his line of sight and see a naked woman standing, her wrists
bound to the corner post of the bed. The jealously that flashed through me at Izzy’s party returns with a vengeance. This mousey little woman holds all of Luc’s attention, and I hate that it causes me to feel this much. I look closely at the bound woman. Her legs are wide, her arms pulled high above her head and secured to the corner post. Her body quivers, shaking slightly in her heels. Luc steps into my field of vision and gropes at her breasts. I can’t hear over the music, so my mind provides the low moans I imagine her to make under his touch. I want to look away, I don’t like the heat rising from my core. He tweaks her nipples and the low light catches the glint of something metallic in his hand. “He’s putting nipple clamps on her,” Izzy whispers. He steps away and I see a chain of silver running between her breasts. Luc prowls around her, his back to us, before he pulls on the chain and her face contorts in pain. I squirm in my seat, heat turns to a dull ache between my legs. Luc stands in front of her for several moments and blocks my view of what he’s doing. He bends his head towards her, and she tips hers back in response. My imagination fills in the blanks—Luc’s hands teasing her pussy and playing with her exposed clit. The fingers I want teasing my skin now tease hers. At the sight, red-tinged anger clouds my vision and mingles with jealousy, and my gut hurts. I wasn’t prepared for this sort of reaction tonight. It’s not what he’s doing to her that bothers me, but that he’s doing it to her and not me. My blood heats in my veins. My body betrays my mind as I witness this… scene. Izzy takes my hand again. “You okay? We don’t have to stay. I can see you’re not enjoying this.”
“No, it’s fine. Really, I want to stay.” I grit the words out past the lump that’s formed in my throat. I can’t admit to her the full reason behind not wanting to leave. I want to see what he does to this little woman so I can imagine it’s me the next time. But, then again, Izzy would understand. “Izzy, I don’t think I can leave yet. I want to… see what he does with her.” “Okay. We can leave whenever you want.” Luc steps away from the woman, who now looks loose limbed and relaxed, no more quivering. He bends to pick up something by the side of the bed. He holds a thin wooden stick, swishing it next to his legs. It looks like a cane. Fear slices me. My nerves are back, and my heart beats a staccato pulse in my chest. “You said this was agreed, that she wants this?” I ask Izzy, scared of what he could do with the weapon. “Yes, Jess. Watch, you’ll see.” Luc has untied the woman and positioned her over the foot of the bed. Her arse provides a great target for his cane. He leans over her body and runs his free hand up and down her back. My mind is caught in a tug-of-war between fearing what will happen, and being turned on by the thought of Luc doing these things to me. His arm rises and his hand slaps her bum. He repeats the action a few more times before swapping his hand for the cane. He runs the wood across her skin, like a ritual, accustoming her to the feel. His gentle touch betrays his intentions. I can’t stop my flare of heat, imagining the connection he’s creating between them. I can see the trust. I want to feel that.
What was once a dull ache, is now a throbbing distraction. My pussy is wet and lust rages through my body. Luc smacks the cane onto the woman’s arse and her whole body twitches off the bed. His hand gentles her, before he repeats. He builds a rhythm and my mind imagines it could be me under his hand. “It doesn’t hurt as much as you imagine. He’s being gentle with her.” “How do you know?” I turn to Izzy, unable to imagine her letting Seb do this. “I… well, I prefer a flogger. It’s thuddier, heavier. It’s a heady mix of pain and pleasure.” She grins. “You can see he’s not putting much force behind the hits. It will most likely leave some nice stripes though.” Thinking of Luc leaving his mark on my skin sends a rush of liquid heat between my legs. My breath comes in shallow pants and my tight nipples rub against the fabric of my lacy bra. God I want this. With Luc.
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