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  Rick held out his arms and let her pamper him, loving every indulgent moment of it. She even handed him his clothing, piece by piece, and buttoned up his shirt and fastened his pants for him. When he was dressed she stepped back and, without comment, wiped his sweat off her dress. Most women he knew would have left him alone to rush off to the ladies’ room to fix their makeup, and bitched about him messing up their clothes. A woman who could beat his ass with style, offer no apologies for enjoying it then make him feel he was the most important person in her universe was a woman he definitely wanted to know better.

  He shook his head to clear the last of the lethargy, turned and faced the room. It surprised him that it was still full of people. As if somebody had just taken plugs out of his ears, he heard quiet groans, the slap of leather against skin, muted conversation, music and the creak of restraints. Yeah, there were other people in the world, he thought wryly as Brenna led him back to the bar.

  Malcolm greeted him with a begrudging smile and a cold drink. Rick swallowed it down gratefully then ordered another. This time he watched Brenna over the rim as he sipped. She’d never taken her eyes off him, still watched him as if he was the center of the universe. Finally she grinned, picked up the drink Malcolm had ordered for her and turned to watch the other people in the playroom.

  Rick felt a little lonely, a little abandoned when she looked away but accepted it. She wasn’t his even though he wouldn’t mind a shot at seeing how far things could progress between them. When he’d come to this club he’d been looking for a Domme who could fulfill his submissive needs—his and Malcolm’s. This woman was so much more. That didn’t overwhelm him. He was too good at adapting, analyzing situations and complications, to let a little thing like instant chemistry throw him. Brenna was definitely something.

  That said, he and Malcolm had been sharing Dommes since med school. It was safer that way, increased the odds of actually attracting a Domme’s attention and, admittedly, it was hotter when you got to experience and watch. Kind of a double-the-thrill scenario. So he didn’t elbow his best friend aside when Malcolm leaned into Brenna and touched her hand, although his inner Neanderthal wanted to.

  “After you’ve had a moment, Mistress, would you show me what that St. Andrew’s Cross feels like?”

  A consensual scene between near strangers was no reason to get jealous but Rick had to wipe an angry sneer off his face anyway. Bastard. Why was it Malcolm was always so smooth with the ladies and Rick’s mouth tended to blurt out whatever without his brain running interference?

  “No.”

  Rick perked up considerably at Brenna’s flat refusal.

  “You weren’t brave enough to ask first,” she added. Her voice was authoritative without being cold. “I want you to want it. There will be no sloppy seconds.” After looking at her watch, she slipped off her stool.

  “Next week then?” Malcolm asked hopefully.

  “I’m afraid not. My company’s year end is coming up. The week after that, I’ll meet you here if you wish. Both of you,” she added, and the look she flashed Rick was straight-up sultry.

  “Definitely,” Malcolm sighed, gave her one of those grins that always reeled the ladies in and pissed Rick off to no end, kissed her hand and sighed again when she walked away.

  “Bastard,” Malcolm hissed when she was out of earshot, then slapped Rick’s chest with the back of his hand.

  It was probably no accident that he hit the exact spot Brenna had paddled. Twisting his body away, Rick grunted. “Hey. Watch it. Asshole,” he said and actually sort of meant it.

  “I earned that after having to sit here with a hard-on that could drill concrete, watching her spank somebody else, even if it was you.” Malcolm signaled for another drink. He made a face after he took the first sip. “Damn but I could use the real thing about now,” he muttered when the bartender moved away. “Just so you know, I wasn’t the only one watching the lovely Ms. Brenna wield her magic on your saggy behind.”

  “Hmm?” Rick didn’t even dignify the saggy remark with a rebuttal.

  “Oh yeah.” Lifting his index finger away from his glass, Malcolm used it to point out the entire room in a slow sweep. “Just about every male sub here, some of the women too, were looking at you like they wanted to shove a knife in your back.”

  Together, they turned to watch Brenna leave. She was stopped repeatedly by singles and couples. Most of them she chatted with briefly. Some said things that made her laugh with them. A few of them looked at her with an intensity that made Rick’s hands draw up into fists, especially the men who stood too close, who leaned to whisper in her ear.

  “You know I never want this kind of thing to be an issue between us,” Malcolm said, “but I’m going to make a play for her right alongside you. If she wants both of us, I’m good with that but if she shows even a hint of interest in stepping things up between her and me, I’m going to jump all over that bodacious piece of womanhood.”

  Rick raised his glass and touched the rim of it to Malcolm’s. “May the best man win,” he pronounced, then grinned. “Good thing that’s going to be me.”

  Chapter Four

  When a blonde woman waved and bounced up on her toes to get Brenna’s attention before she reached the exit, Brenna smiled. “Hey, Tracy, Kevin,” she greeted them and hugged the excited blonde warmly. “I see you met Trevor. He’s so easy to talk to about the whole scene, isn’t he?”

  While Tracy and Kevin nodded and summarized their conversations, Brenna glanced at the Dom. With heels, both she and Tracy were taller than him but with Trevor, you never noticed. He had this calm, confident presence, didn’t talk much and was a great listener. He always seemed bigger than he actually was. In his mid-forties, he had short-cropped gray hair and dark, expressive eyes that were focused a little too intently on Tracy. Brenna knew he loved to introduce new subs to the lifestyle and that he had a thing for petite blondes. For him it wasn’t about the sex, although he wouldn’t say no if somebody offered him an orgasm. No, he liked the domination, finding out what a sub thought her limits were and challenging her with new and novel ways of reaching past them. Good thing a few of the established Dommes owed him favors or he might just find himself pissing off Kevin by focusing his considerable talents on the man’s wife. With his contacts though, Trevor would make sure Kevin’s submissive needs were taken care of too.

  Brenna chatted with them for a few more minutes before moving on. Attending orientation nights was a privilege but she had a two-hour drive each way to get here. A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. Rick had tempted her to stay, more than she’d expected. His reactions to pain were enthralling and he held himself with a grace and power that awed her. Not many subs communicated as honestly as he did, especially at first. They were all about the yes mistress, please mistress thing, trying to act like good little subs and appease a potential Domme. Rick’s body communicated truth. She’d heard it in his breathing, seen it in the way he held his head. He obviously liked the carefully administered pain, but what he’d seemed to really got off on was entrusting his pleasure to someone else. That kind of mutual fulfillment was hard to find and she cherished it. His body and that fat erection had worked for her too. A girl’s ego couldn’t help responding to that kind of total package.

  She headed for the door and tried not to talk too long whenever she was stopped.

  That plan flew out the window when Harlan Rhode stepped into her path. “When are you going to tie me down and let me keep you in the lap of luxury, hmm?” He winked at her and flashed that bright, beguiling smile of his.

  “Hello, Harlan.” She sighed and tried not to look too put out by his intrusion.

  “Hello, my Darling,” he said and gave her another wink. He loved the play on her last name and she knew he thought it added intimacy to their conversations. As always, Harlan’s clothing was conservative, expensive and tailored to perfection. It should be. Born into money, Harlan had a gift for investing it and was one of the darlings of B
ay Street—no pun intended. He wielded fortunes like most people wielded grocery lists and part of his psyche demanded he be spanked down for it. A sexual submissive right down to his blue-blooded corpuscles, he also couldn’t lay off topping from the bottom. He loved it when a woman tied him up, made him beg, trussed up his balls and clamped his nipples until they turned purple but he wanted it all on his terms. Oh, he was subtle about it but he wanted what he wanted, when he wanted. There was no intrigue playing with Harlan, no sense of pleasure in discovering his needs then meeting them. For that reason, Brenna had limited contact with him and hadn’t scened with him in well over a year. The fact he’d been divorced three times didn’t help his cachet as a potential long-term partner either.

  That didn’t stop him from asking though.

  “I watched you tonight. You’re magnificent,” he growled in that deep, refined voice of his. He kissed her hand then brushed his lips over her knuckles. “You’re always magnificent. Just seeing you makes me hard.” He glanced around, made sure no one was close enough to overhear, then touched her cheek. “The man you were with, he’s younger than me. I wish…” His voice trailed off.

  Brenna had played this game with Harlan too often to be sucked in by orchestrated empathy. His eyes reflected uncertainty, perhaps even pain but she knew he was no damsel in distress type, gender notwithstanding. He was just good at pushing a Domme’s triggers. “You’re not old, Harlan, and you know it,” she said with enough vehemence to make him drop the weepy-eye act. He was only fifty, in shape, and had the kind of refined good looks that perked women’s interest. “We’ve done scenes and you know our tastes aren’t compatible. Just because you’ve got a thing for my ass doesn’t mean we can overlook everything else.”

  “I’ve got a thing for more than just your ass,” he admitted quietly and Brenna felt it was the first genuine thing he’d said to her that night.

  She kissed his cheek then stepped back. “I believe you. And if we were compatible, I’d do you in a heartbeat, even if you were ninety and didn’t have a pot to piss in,” she assured him, said goodbye and walked away before he could stop her.

  * * * * *

  The next day at work, Brenna turned off the office security system and headed straight for the coffeemaker. She’d gotten home around midnight and it wasn’t yet seven a.m. Suppressing a yawn, she figured she’d go to bed early tonight.

  When she’d started this company, she’d had to start early and work late because she was her one and only employee. Working out of her basement in the evenings and on weekends, she’d fiddled with a line of organic, boutique soaps. Aromatherapy was popular and she’d focused her marketing on the environmentally friendly angle. It was a stretch because soap was about the most un-environmentally friendly stuff out there. Still, people wanted to be clean, there was a need for products that let oil mix with water, and she knew marketing and image were everything.

  That line of bar soap had grown to include liquid soap and body powder. She was developing creams and spray-on body mists to go with them, available in each of the company’s six signature fragrances.

  Sucking down her coffee as fast as she could, Brenna swapped her sensible pumps for steel-toed shoes, put on a hairnet and her lab coat and left the office area for the production floor.

  When her approach triggered a massive roll-up metal door, the sound from the packing machines jumped. The scents of lavender and honey wrapped around her. By this time tomorrow, the lines would switch over to vanilla-cinnamon, and lemon grass two days after that.

  She greeted the ladies on the line by name as she walked behind them, asked about their kids if they had any, joked with them, shared quick one-armed hugs then moved on. Back when she’d been an employee and not the owner, she’d never seen anybody in upper management bother with the laborers. Brenna had decided that was just stupid. These workers were here for the pay, sure, but they could also be vested enough to look at what went on beyond their on-paper responsibilities. She cared about them and they returned the favor by caring about what they were doing, suggesting ways to work more safely and more efficiently, even helping out with the electric bill by setting the packing machines to idle during product switch-overs.

  “Hey, Margo,” she said as she walked up to the nightshift supervisor. Without being asked, the forty-something woman handed Brenna the clipboard in her hand.

  “Line two was down for about an hour,” Margo told her as Brenna scanned the output numbers. The night before they’d run all seven packing lines. Orders were up and business was booming. “There’s only a skid and a half of bottle caps left. The afternoon shift will run out.”

  “Hmm. There’s a shipment due in first thing today.”

  “Cutting it kind of close, aren’t you, boss?”

  “Yes. But if we have to we can send the workers on machines four and five over to the powder room. Besides, it’s cost efficient to not have a lot of capital tied up in packing materials that’re just sitting around. Thanks, Margo,” Brenna said, smiled and handed back the clipboard. “Looks like your crew had a great shift.”

  “Some of the ladies were asking how long we’re going to run this third shift.”

  “At least another two weeks.” Almost all the people working the lines on nights were from a temp agency. With Mother’s Day coming up, Brenna had ramped up production to meet demand from the stores. After that they’d be back to two shifts and these workers would have to find other jobs. But if things worked out, they’d be shipping Oh My Darling soaps and powders to new customers in Western Canada and the northeastern United States within three months. If that happened, they’d be running three shifts, five days a week, permanently.

  “I’ll let them know,” Margo said. “They’ll be happy. They expected one week of work and we’ve given them three already. Have a good one, boss,” she added with a wave as she went back to work.

  Brenna left the packaging room and walked into production.

  It was quieter in here. The chug of the vacuum pumps that poured raw materials into the massive, twenty-foot-high steel mixing vats hadn’t yet started up. The only overt sound was Jim’s voice as he walked his day-shift mixing crew through the morning’s production schedule. Jim had been the first employee she’d hired.

  They’d worked together at a big chemical company in a nearby city. There Brenna had been a frustrated entrepreneur daylighting as a chemist. Jim had been tired of working for an impersonal multinational corporation and had been in the industry long enough not to worry about the fact Brenna had only been able to offer him half the salary he’d been earning back then. After sweating through the first, uncertain year alongside her, he now earned a bit more than he had at his old job. If things kept looking up, he’d get another raise by the third quarter. Jim waved and his lined face lit up as he flashed her one of those broad smiles of his. Brenna waved back to him and his crew and kept moving. The production room was in order, the floors had been washed by yesterday’s afternoon shift, raw materials that should be stacked on the fire-hazard racks were, and she had a meeting with the finance department in half an hour.

  Back in the kitchen and stirring her second cup of the day, Brenna thought about the night before and smiled. She’d liked Rick, a lot. He responded beautifully to pain, held himself with grace and was open about sharing how his head and body were processing the sensations. After dropping her spoon into the dishwasher, she headed for her office and flexed her whip hand without realizing what she was doing. She had a good life, a full life, but wanted someone to share it with. At thirty-one she was ready to settle down with one sub, one lover. Maybe even get married if she was lucky. She just hadn’t met the right guy.

  Shaking her head to get rid of her residual tiredness, she thought about Rick once more, and regretted that it would be another two weeks before she’d see him and his friend Malcolm again. Then she grinned. Sometimes it was a good thing to make your subs wait. Anticipation made them eager. Chuckling, she leaned forward in her chai
r and got down to the day’s work.

  * * * * *

  Two weeks later Brenna walked into the downtown Toronto club. Tonight was the last of four consecutive Tuesdays open to guests which explained the crowd. She said hello to Tracy and Kevin, their new Dom Trevor, and one of the regular Dommes Trevor had likely recruited to play with Kevin. A broadcast email from the membership committee had already announced that Tracy and Kevin had bought memberships. Brenna skirted most of the equipment and the clusters of male subs who’d positioned themselves prominently in the center of the club.

  She had a date to play with two men tonight and two weeks was a long time to wait. The heels of her high boots clicked enticingly on the polished wood floor. She held her head proudly and her long black hair was tied back with a cord of black suede. Dressed to play and play hard, she strode up to the bar and held her shoulders back when Rick and Malcolm slipped off their stools and stood before her.

  For a moment, none of them said anything. She slid her hand around the back of Rick’s head, then Malcolm’s. Fisting their short hair, staring at one then the other man for a long, intense moment, she pulled Rick’s mouth down to hers.

  He didn’t resist. Moaning softly, he settled his warm, wonderful lips against hers, exhaled in short, sharp bursts as he slid his tongue into her mouth. He tasted and smelled as wonderful as she remembered. A hint of good cologne but mostly lust-warmed skin and pheromones. She pulled back before Malcolm had a chance to feel left out.

  Malcolm tasted different but he was no less eager. His kiss was gentler but then he didn’t know what she liked or would allow. When she brought her teeth down on his lower lip and bit hard enough to make him gasp, he grinned and tipped his head so she could do it again.

  Letting go of his hair, she squeezed his jaw between her thumb and forefinger. “Who’s in charge here?” she purred with misleading sweetness and cocked an eyebrow.