by Shelly Bell
The world was much brighter this morning. It was as if he’d been living in darkness for eight years and he was suddenly in the light. While he was inside most of the days in prison, he did get outside for fresh air and exercise. But with the sun’s rays bouncing off the snow, there was a glow to the early winter morning that he hadn’t experienced in a long time.
A glance at the clock reminded him that this time yesterday, he’d been in the security line at the parole office with Dreama. It wasn’t the first time he’d thought of Dreama in the past twenty-four hours or even his fifth.
Most of his thoughts had been innocent. He worried about her leg and whether the security guard had made the alternative arrangements for her screening to get into the building. He recalled the way her face had lit up when they’d discussed the PAWS program. He wondered what had triggered her panic attack in the lobby.
And then there were those thoughts that hadn’t been so innocent. Last night in bed, he’d wrapped his hand around his dick, thrilled he could finally jack off without some guy lying in the bunk underneath him doing the same damned thing. And all he could see was Dreama and those big sultry lips of hers. Normally, the women in his fantasies were faceless, but Dreama’s beautifully troubled one kept popping up in his head no matter how hard he’d tried to get her out of it. Finally, he gave up and gave in. Imagining himself forcing her to take his full length into her mouth and down her throat, he’d come harder than he could remember.
He had it bad for his parole officer and that could only mean trouble for him.
Rebecca parked the car in front of the animal shelter and turned to him. “You don’t have to be nervous.”
“I’m not nervous,” he said, looking down at his lap and realizing he was drumming his fingers on his thigh. He’d been thinking about Dreama, but he wasn’t about to admit that to his sister.
She snorted, a habit of hers that he’d missed. “You forget I know you. Aside from that tapping thing you do on your leg whenever you get nervous,” she said, pressing her fingertip to the spot between her eyebrows, “you get this divot right above your nose as if you’re thinking too hard.”
He did?
He flipped down the visor and looked in the mirror. Sure enough, there was a divot, just as she’d said. “You never told me that before.”
She giggled as she released her seat belt. “That’s because I liked being able to use it to my advantage. Made teasing you much easier.”
“Okay, besides the obvious”—like his wedding or his prison sentencing—“name one time I was nervous.”
She pressed her lips together as if holding back laughter. “When you asked a girl to junior prom at the last minute. You walked around all day with that divot. It was so deep, I could’ve stored a quarter in it. Meanwhile, you were trying to play it so cool.”
Shit, he remembered that. And she was right. He had been nervous. “I wasn’t trying. I was cool. That’s why I waited.”
Things had been so easy that year. His football team had won the championship. He’d been making good grades. His mom had been alive and well. He’d been on top of the world. All the girls in school had been throwing themselves at him. Which was why he’d waited until the last minute to choose his date, a girl he’d really liked. But when he’d finally asked her, she’d responded with a “maybe.” Made him sweat up until the day before the dance before telling him she’d go.
Rebecca smirked. “You were kind of a jerk back then.”
“I’m still a jerk.” He unfastened his seat belt and shifted in his seat to face her. “I’m living with and working for my younger sister.”
“That doesn’t make you a jerk.”
“What does it make me?”
“My brother,” she said, reaching out and bumping his shoulder with her fist. “You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”
He shrugged. Of course he would. She was his only family. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.
“It doesn’t make you a jerk,” she repeated softly. “You haven’t been that guy since…” Her voice trailed off, but he knew what she couldn’t say.
He hadn’t been that guy since sophomore year of college, when he’d gotten Maddie pregnant and married her.
“You’re right. I am nervous,” he told her. Her driving him to work wasn’t just convenient; he didn’t want to walk into the shelter on his first day without her. He felt as if he were starting kindergarten and needed her to hold his hand. “I don’t want to fuck it up for you.” He pointed at the one-story building in front of them. “People in there are gonna know you’ve got an ex-con as a brother.”
Rebecca’s expression turned fierce. “When have I ever given a shit what other people think?”
“Never, but you shouldn’t have to deal with my baggage,” he said.
While Cash had been the high school jock concerned about image and popularity, his sister had been more of the artsy loner. He couldn’t imagine what she’d gone through when he’d gone to prison, but knowing her, she’d done it with grace.
“Name a person who doesn’t have baggage,” she said, getting out of the car. Hands in the pockets of his coat, he walked with her to the shelter’s front door. “You made a mistake. Who hasn’t? Besides, you’re not the only parolee working at the shelter.”
Ever since Cash could remember, he’d wanted to become a veterinarian. His first memory was of his father bringing home a dog from the local shelter as a birthday gift for his mother. Looking back, Cash realized Maisie the shih tzu had been ugly at first, underweight and furless. But that hadn’t mattered to him. All he saw was this little dog with an overeager tongue and a constantly wagging tail who desperately wanted to love and be loved.
Rebecca loved animals as well, but she’d loved art more. She’d been so gifted, everyone was certain she’d move to New York after graduation to pursue it. But with their father dead, Cash in prison, and their mother dying of cancer, she’d chosen to stay in the state and pursue Cash’s dream instead of her own.
Just one more thing for Cash to feel guilty over.
The door jingled as Rebecca opened it. Cash followed her inside and was greeted by warmth and the distinctive scent of animals. A young woman, probably close to Rebecca’s age, hauled a large bag of dog food over her shoulder.
Rebecca took off her coat and went over to her. “Morning, Nancy. How’s everyone doing?”
“Fed and happy.” Nancy put the bag on the ground. “You must be Cash. Rebecca said you’d be starting today.”
He nodded to her, jamming his hands into his pockets. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nancy’s in charge of the kennels, which makes her your boss,” Rebecca said. “You’re not working directly for me.”
He and Rebecca had already discussed that while technically Rebecca had hiring and firing power over him, he would have a separate supervisor who would also have that capability. That way she wouldn’t be in the middle if things didn’t work out. Even he knew that Rebecca would never fire him. She was too loyal of a sister.
“Come on,” Nancy said to him as she grabbed the dog food bag again. “I’ll show you where you can hang up your coat and then I’ll give you a tour and introduce you to everyone.”
After saying goodbye to his sister, he followed Nancy around the facility, first stopping in the employee break room. It was comprised of a kitchenette, which contained a refrigerator, a microwave, and a coffee maker on one side of the room; a row of lockers on the other; and tables set up in the middle. “You can store your coat in here,” she told him, opening a locker. “Best bring a lock with you tomorrow. We’ve had some thefts in the past. Better safe than sorry.”
Nancy gave him a rundown of his duties as she brought him back to the kennels.
Dozens of dogs barked from within their cages, jumping against and clawing the wire as if begging to be let out. It took him back to only days before, when he’d been in a similar cage, aching to return to the real world. Now he stood on the outside
, looking in. But at the same time, he was still caged, branded a criminal by those around him and subjected to an extra set of rules that if broken, would return him to prison.
Dogs he could relate to.
People were another matter.
Cash got to work, the menial task of sweeping and mopping the floors keeping him busy. He familiarized himself with all the dogs, memorizing their names and attempting to figure out what breed each was. Most were mutts, the majority a mix of pit bull and Labrador. Like ex-cons, these types of dogs were often considered dangerous.
They weren’t.
He stopped his mopping and crouched, reaching his fingers through the fencing and petting the nose of one of them. The dog preened under Cash’s touch, nudging his wet nose into Cash’s hand.
One day when Cash was moved into his own place, he’d adopt a few of the dogs from here. Give them a real home with a yard where they’d be free to run and play.
Just as his parents had done for him.
When he stood, he bumped into an older man standing right behind him. “Sorry. Didn’t see you there.”
“Nah. It’s my fault. Should’ve known better than to come up on you like that.” He extended his hand. “Buddy. Just got out, huh?”
“Yeah,” Cash said, accepting it. “Couple days ago.”
“Takes some getting used to.”
Buddy must be the other ex-con that Rebecca had mentioned worked there.
“What does?” Cash asked.
He tried to picture what would have put the man behind bars. Buddy didn’t appear as if he could harm a fly. He was short, probably only around five and a half feet, and on the slim side.
“Being on the outside,” Buddy said, lowering his voice. “Word of warning for you. The others who work here will tell you they’re happy to have you while keeping their hands on their wallets. With the exception of me and your sister, it’s best to keep to yourself and not give anyone ammunition to use against you.”
Cash thought back to Nancy’s comment about the lock. He hadn’t taken it as a personal dig at the time, but he could understand that if anything went missing, as an ex-con, he’d be one of the first they’d accuse. It was good to have Buddy here, someone who knew what it was like for him. In prison, Cash had been part of a small group that watched each other’s backs. He wouldn’t exactly call them friends, but more of a necessity. Seemed the same applied once they got out.
Cash nodded and picked up his broom to get back to work. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
The next few hours passed by quickly as he fell into a routine. Each dog would be let outside for some fresh air while Cash cleaned out their cage. Buddy worked on the other side of the room, doing the same. Occasionally, another employee or a volunteer would come in and take the dogs on a longer walk. Then there were those few people who came in looking to adopt. They’d walk up and down the aisles, oohing and aahing, but as far as he knew, none of them filled out an application in the end.
At noon, Rebecca came by and took him to the lunchroom, personally making sure he ate what she’d packed for him. The other employees gave them a wide berth, and he wondered if that was the norm for her, because she gave no indication that she noticed.
His afternoon was filled with much of the same as his morning, feeding the dogs and cleaning the kennels. Running out of garbage bags, he went into the storage closet and turned on the light, then scanned the shelves for them.
He whipped his head around as he heard the click of the door shutting behind him. A stunning blonde stood there, with a huge smile on her face. He didn’t recognize her from any of the employees Nancy had introduced him to, and there was no way he would’ve missed her, not in that tight black tank top and those tight jeans.
Resting her back against the closed door, she folded her arms under her chest, drawing attention to her cleavage. “Hi. You’re new here.”
He turned around but kept his distance. “Yep.”
“I’m Laci. I’m a volunteer here.”
“Cash.”
“You’re Rebecca’s brother, right?”
“I am.”
She took a step toward him. “Are you looking for something?”
The room suddenly got a lot smaller and a whole lot hotter. He tugged the collar of his shirt and tore his gaze off the girl’s chest, looking at the stocked shelves instead. “Garbage bags.”
Something about being in there with the girl felt…off.
Wrong.
Laci moved closer.
Too close.
She reached around him, her breasts brushing his abdomen. He froze, not moving. Hell, not even breathing.
What was this woman playing at?
Was she…coming on to him?
She pulled back and held out a box of garbage bags. “Here you go. If there’s anything you need, anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask me.” She licked her lips. “I imagine it’s been a while for you.”
He took the box from her. “Sorry?” he asked, knowing full well what she was insinuating but clarifying just to make sure.
She smelled decisively female, like powder and flowers. The scent of it should have gotten him hard. Made him want. She was right. It had been a while since he’d gotten laid. More than eight years. Heck, at this point, a light breeze was enough to make his dick twitch.
But she didn’t do it for him.
She invaded his space once again, scoring her long nails down his chest. “I can make you feel real good.”
His eyelids temporarily closed as he ate up the sensation of Laci’s touch. In the darkness, he could almost pretend he wanted her.
She was a beautiful girl offering herself up to him on a silver platter.
Therein lay the problem.
His eyes flew open as Laci dropped to her knees and began to unbuckle his belt.
It would be so easy to allow her to pleasure him.
Too easy.
He placed his hand over hers, trying to be gentle. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
She smiled up at him and continued to work at unbuckling his belt, ignoring his polite refusal. “I promise I won’t tell anyone. Your sister will never know.”
“No!” In an effort to get away, he slammed himself backward into the shelves. Rolls of toilet paper fell to the floor.
Laci shot to her feet. “What the hell is wrong with you? What kind of guy turns down a blow job?” Her jaw dropped. “Oh. Are you—”
No, he wasn’t, but she didn’t need to know that. Frankly, either way, it was none of her business.
“I’ve got to get back to work.” He awkwardly lifted the box he was still holding in the air. “Thanks for helping me find the garbage bags.”
She nodded, seemingly unperturbed by their little tête-à-tête, and put a finger against her lips as if she was privy to a secret. He blasted past her out the door, eager to get away.
A glance at the clock indicated he only had a few minutes before he was supposed to meet Rebecca in the lunchroom. He finished emptying the trash cans and put new bags in each one.
As Cash was preparing to leave the kennel area, Buddy joined him by the door. “I saw you met Laci, our resident welcome wagon. She’s quite friendly, isn’t she?” he asked with a knowing smile.
Cash shrugged, not really wanting to discuss it. “Little too friendly for my taste.”
Too aggressive. Girls like Laci had thrown themselves at Cash all through high school and then at college. He didn’t judge them for it. Not then and not now. A few he’d fooled around with. But there was always something missing for him.
Since he could remember, all his sexual fantasies had involved some aspect of BDSM. When he was barely in his teens, he’d begun jacking off to thoughts of tying up pretty young girls and them crying for him to stop as he pushed his cock inside them. Later, his fantasies became more elaborate, filled with images he’d discovered online and through porn.
In his freshman year of college, he’d met a girl who’d
been game to fulfill his fantasies. Just like with Dreama, he’d been drawn to her from the start, as if something inside of him recognized something inside of her. Without having a name for it, they fell into a kind of Dom/sub relationship. It began when he’d ordered her to wear a skirt and no panties so that he could finger her under the table at dinner. From there it escalated into bondage, spanking, and some serious hardcore toys. But while they were in tune when it came to sex, they’d had nothing else in common, which led to the inevitable breakup. It wasn’t long after that he’d met Maddie. Too bad he hadn’t had the experience in the lifestyle to recognize he’d confused psychologically unbalanced for submissive.
“Some girls like the thrill of being with a bad boy, you know?” Buddy said. “She’s like a 7-Eleven. Always open.”
Cash snorted at the analogy. “Not my type.”
“What is?”
“Submissive,” Cash said automatically.
Shit, the word had just slipped out. “I mean—”
Buddy took a step closer. “I know a place. Owners run a tight ship. Won’t fuck with any terms of parole. No alcohol, no drugs. Caters to our kind of sex.”
The whole world seemed to stop and Cash’s pulse kicked up. It was as if Buddy was a drug dealer tempting Cash with a drug he’d sworn never to do again. What if he made the same mistake he’d made with Maddie?
“You talking ’bout a BDSM club?” Cash asked quietly.
Buddy nodded. “That more your type?”
There was a loaded question if he’d ever heard one.
“Maybe.” Cash swallowed thickly. “I’ve never been to one.”
Buddy dug into his wallet and pulled out a card. He held it out to Cash.
Club X.
Cash eyed it for a moment, his fingers twitching in his pockets. He couldn’t say he wasn’t curious about what went on in a club like that.
Figuring it wouldn’t hurt to check it out, he snatched the card from Buddy’s hand. Just as he slid it into his pocket, there was a tap on his shoulder.
