He liked her chutzpah. She had spunk. Perhaps that’s what didn’t sit right with his father—she seemed too honest and self-assured to have stolen three million dollars. “True,” he conceded. “But when things go well on a date, kissing happens.”
She studied him, and he wondered what thoughts zinged through her head as she took his measure. By most standards, he was passably handsome. Many women found his athletic physique attractive. Combined with an above-average height, blond hair that he let grow almost long enough to fall over his rich brown eyes, David didn’t have a problem with the fairer sex.
But the way she regarded him left no doubt she was looking beneath the surface. A sub needed to be able to read her Dom, so he let her study him for as long as she needed. Finally she responded. “Unaccompanied Doms—especially males—are not allowed at reputable play parties. You need me in order to get in. What is the real reason you need to be there?”
She was definitely experienced, and that fit his needs perfectly. He turned his hand over, sending a subtle signal that he was being open with her by exposing his palm. “Though I grew up here, I’ve been gone a long time. The friend I was supposed to take to the party is unable to attend for reasons related to her job.”
For several seconds, nobody said anything. Bree lifted a brow. “And so?”
And so this woman was smart. She saw right through his non-answer. David found himself drawn to her even more. “I’m here on a job. I need to establish contacts in the BDSM community. A friend vouched for me, which is enough to get me on the guest list—provided I bring my own sub.”
Understanding lit her irises. “They’ll judge you by how you get along with your submissive. If they like you, then you’re welcome to other events.” She leaned closer. “Of course, you’ve been vouched for, so that’s not the real reason, is it?”
“Some people there will make valuable contacts for future business opportunities.”
That answer seemed more acceptable to her. She lifted a brow. “What is your business?”
“Analytics.” It wasn’t technically a lie. He analyzed a lot of information before taking action. “It’s a referral-based business.”
She spread her hands, a placating move. “You may kiss my cheek three times, but that’s all, so you’d better make them count.”
“Not good enough.”
“Fine.” She exhaled with a grace and civility that suggested he was lacking in those areas. “One French kiss.”
“It’s a start,” he returned. “Depending on circumstances, there may be more.”
“We’ll see about that.” A soft limit was probably the best for which he could hope under the circumstances. She rubbed her hands together. “Let’s talk about what kind of play you do best.”
He frowned. “The kind of play I do best?”
“Yes. If you’re going there to impress other dominants, you’ll need to bring your A game. What does that look like? Are you awesome with a flogger? Perhaps you’d like to display how good you are with a double Florentine? Or maybe you’re a great rigger, and you want to show off those skills?” She shifted and leaned closer, warming to the topic. “Don’t you want the subs to beg for a turn with you?”
David knew the value of showing off, but he didn’t necessarily need to hang out his shingle as a service top in order to gain the access he needed. “They’re going to judge me by the way I treat you. They’ll want to know you’re happy and having fun, that I pay attention to your tells and respond accordingly. And that I keep you in line.”
Her smile drooped. “Do you need me to misbehave?”
“No. As a matter of fact, I need a well-behaved sub. And don’t forget, this is a first date. I thought that perhaps we’d try out a few things, which we’ll discuss as we go along. I need to know your hard limits and preferences.”
Her gaze slid to Beatrice, who opened a folder on the table. She extracted a form and handed it to him. “This is a list of Bree’s limits and preferences. We utilize the standard stoplight system for safewords. Be aware that she’s had surgery on her left shoulder, so be especially careful during bondage.”
He studied the list. Most of her hard limits were his as well. He wasn’t into bodily fluids or edge play, but she’d also nixed anything to do with sex play. Really she hadn’t left much, but flogging and bondage, two of his favorites appeared on the preferences list. She’d specifically mentioned those. He folded the list and put it in his pocket, and then he faced Bree. “Do you agree to the plan?”
“Of course. I look forward to working with you.”
_______________
The venue for the play party turned out to be someone’s barn. Situated far back on a large parcel of acreage, light and music poured from doors that had been thrown wide open. Parking was indicated on either side of the gravel driveway, so Autumn, in her persona as Bree, turned sharply and came to a stop on the outskirts of the designated area. Poco didn’t need to suffer the indignity of having to sit next to the other cars all night. She parked at the edge of the designated area and checked her hair one more time in the mirror. For this occasion, she’d wrangled her mane into a French braid that tracked diagonally across her head so that the rest of it would fall across her left shoulder. That left her upper back bare for flogging, and it provided some cover for the scars on her shoulder.
Not wanting to drive all this way in fetish wear—how awkward would it be to break down on the side of the road and have to explain that to someone?—she’d covered up with a white blouse and a simple skirt that fell to mid-calf. Despite her detour to a chain restaurant to scope out Julianne’s date, she’d managed to arrive a few minutes early. Julianne’s date hadn’t set off any of Autumn’s alarm bells. She’d told Julianne to have fun and not take the night too seriously, and then she’d lit out for this place. It wouldn’t take long to get out of her mainstream outerwear. She unbuttoned her blouse.
The knock on her window scared the crap out of her. Heart racing, she looked up to see David, the man Ms. B. insisted she accompany “as a personal favor,” regarding her with an amused grin. She rolled the window down an inch. “Hey there. We’re both early.”
He glanced at his watch. “I’m on time. You’re a half hour late. According to Beatrice, that’s as on-time as you get.”
Frowning, Autumn checked the clock on her dashboard. It didn’t match the time on his watch, so she compared it with her phone. The clock in her car was wrong. This happened far too often. She knew the cause—her battery kept dying, and that played havoc with the clock she often forgot to reset. “Oh, sorry, Sir. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting. Let me slip out of this, and I’ll be ready to go.”
Without waiting for his permission, she shrugged out of the blouse and slipped out of the skirt. Underneath, she’d chosen a deep purple bustier with black lacing down the sides. It terminated in time to show off a small strip of her midsection. A matching skirt, appropriately short, covered her bottom. For shoes, she’d chosen black boots that came up to her knees. She’d found them at a thrift store for a dollar.
When she was ready to emerge, he opened the car door and helped her out. He held her hand as he looked her over. Autumn stood still, enduring his appraisal because he was the client. If he didn’t like her outfit, he was within his rights to insist on changes. To that end, she’d brought a second pair of shoes and a longer skirt. The white blouse could be modified to tie beneath her breasts if he wanted her shoulders covered. Of course, once she presented those options, most clients went with the outfit she’d chosen. None of them had asked her to cover up more of her body.
“You look amazing.” He looked at her face when he said it, not her body, and that earned him a point in his favor. “I like what you’ve done with your hair. And you’ve kept the makeup to a minimum.”
That caveat had been in his instructions. “Thank you, Sir. You look…” She’d watched his face while he’d checked her out, noting his micro-expressions and looking for clues as to what he did
and didn’t like. Now she checked him out. He wore a jacket and tie over a dress shirt, and his slacks matched his jacket. “Like you’re going to work.”
Frowning, he surveyed his outfit.
“If I may be bold for a moment, Sir? You might be more comfortable without the jacket and tie.” He was a very handsome man, and his body looked great in a suit, but this was a play party. Casual or fetish dress would be expected.
Now he was looking at her, staring with a firm, dominant expression that dared her to question his fashion choices further.
Autumn had never been one to back down when she knew she was right, and having played the Domina so often, she knew when “The Look” was mostly bluster. “You wouldn’t happen to have brought a pair of jeans or leathers in your car?”
“Jeans.” Implicit in the single word was the warning he hadn’t yet articulated.
She lowered her gaze, acknowledging his dominance. “Sir, I know I’m a little out of line, but I have your best interests at heart. I’m here for you, and only you. Two nights ago, you told me that you’re looking to fit in with a certain group of people. Though you look fantastic in a suit, it’s more appropriate for an office setting. And it’s going to get hot in there.”
A glimmer of a smile cracked his hard façade, and he shook his head. “Come on, Bree.” As he still had her hand, she had no choice but to follow him across the driveway and several cars closer to the barn. He clicked the button on his fob and the trunk of a black SUV opened. “Jeans. Lose the jacket and tie. Any other requests?”
“Do you have a short-sleeved shirt?”
He put his jacket on a hanger that he hung from a hook near the side window. A peek inside revealed three suitcases and a bunch of other shirts and jackets hanging in garment bags. She also assumed slacks were there somewhere. He unraveled his tie and tugged it off, which he somehow made into a sexy move without trying. Autumn forced her gaze elsewhere. This was a client. It didn’t matter that she found him attractive or that she’d been sorely tempted to completely give in during the kiss negotiation.
“Watch out.”
She stepped back as he closed the hatch. Though he hadn’t changed, he’d found a pair of jeans in his luggage. She turned away from the car as he opened the door to the back seat. “I’ll keep my back turned so you can have privacy.”
“Thanks, but the windows are tinted so that you can’t see inside. We could have sex in a crowded parking lot, and people would only know because I wouldn’t gag you.”
Though she didn’t turn to see his face, she imagined him throwing a cheeky wink just before he closed the door. Most men would sound boastful or creepy saying something like that, but he managed it with understated confidence. Autumn liked understated confidence. She also liked tall blond men with sexy, athletic builds who took care of their clothes. Little things like that indicated someone to whom details mattered.
He emerged minutes later wearing jeans that hugged his thighs and ass. He’d also exchanged his dress shoes for tennis shoes. “How’s this?”
“May I?” At his nod, she unbuttoned the top three buttons on his shirt. It didn’t reveal much, but it went better with the casual air she was trying to help him affect. “I don’t suppose you’ll let me mess up your hair a little?”
“Nope. I have to draw the line somewhere, otherwise you may forget who’s in charge.” He was teasing her, and she found herself responding with a genuine smile.
“Understood, Sir. I’ll wait until next time to ask you to untuck your shirt.”
With a smile, he took her hand again, and he threaded it through his arm. “I prefer you on my left side. Keep your hand on me at all times. Give a little squeeze if you need to speak to me. Don’t speak to anyone unless I give you permission. I do want you to have fun. Really have fun, not pretend to have fun. That’s important.”
She squeezed his arm. They were getting close to the barn. Light spilled over them, making his hair look even more yellow. “Sir? Can I talk to the other submissives during appropriate times?”
“Yes, but be discreet.” He didn’t have to elaborate further. She knew he didn’t want people to know he’d paid for her services.
“Of course, Sir.” Autumn was nervous. It had been a long time since she’d been to a play party. She hadn’t been anywhere, really, since the accident. Though she looked forward to the evening, she didn’t include this on her list of play parties. This was work, not pleasure. Through sheer determination, she steadied her nerves. David seemed like a nice guy, and he seemed to like her sense of humor. She’d managed to put him at ease. Now she just needed to keep him there.
He ran into someone he knew almost immediately. When he stopped, she made sure to stand a little behind him. And though she kept her gaze lowered, she had no trouble seeing the couple. He was exceptionally tall, with shaggy dark hair that fell to his shoulders, and like David, he wore jeans. Unlike David, this man’s jeans were well worn, even torn in some places. His black cotton shirt looked new by comparison. His submissive was a woman with blue eyes and a voluptuous body poured into a pretty yellow sundress. She wore her hair in pigtails, and the stick of a sucker stuck from between her lips. The pair held hands like lovers, and they glowed like newlyweds.
“Jordan, it’s good to finally meet you in person. Frankie and Jesse send their regards.” David offered his hand.
The man let go of his submissive for a second while he shook David’s hand. His smiled dimmed so that it was merely friendly, and Autumn glimpsed the air of danger surrounding this stranger. “Likewise. Welcome to Michigan. When did you get in?”
“An hour ago, though I came up earlier this week to meet with my next project.”
“You must come to dinner. Are you busy tomorrow night?” The woman popped her sucker out to speak. Her friendly demeanor gushed with warmth. “I know you’re probably unpacking, which means you won’t have much food. I told Frankie we’d look after you. I’ll make stuffed pork chops. You’ll love them. Unless you don’t eat pork. Please don’t be afraid to tell me. I can make something else.”
Jordan chuckled at his submissive’s rambling. He kissed her cheek. “If you haven’t already guessed, this is Amy. She’s an excellent cook, and she’s not going to let you get out of coming to dinner. If tomorrow doesn’t work, let us know what night does. And if you’d prefer we brought dinner to your place, we can do that.”
“I have plans with my father tomorrow, but I’m free on Sunday.” David inclined his head in her direction. “This is Bree.”
Amy leaped at the chance to talk to her. “Hi, Bree. It’s nice to meet you. Did you come from Missouri with David?”
Most escorts chose a completely different name to give to clients. Autumn had been through plenty of names in her lifetime, and one more was no big deal. She looked to David for permission to address Amy. Really, Jordan should have been the first one to speak to her, but these two didn’t seem all that interested in protocol.
David nodded, so Autumn smiled. “Hi, Amy. I’m from here. David and I met through a mutual acquaintance, so this is our first real date. And can I say that I love your dress? It’s really cute.”
She beamed, and that made Jordan happy. Happier. The man looked at his submissive as if he’d won the jackpot. “Thanks. This is one of Daddy’s favorites.”
Ahh—that explained the pigtails, the sucker, and Amy’s almost childlike demeanor. She was a little.
Jordan put his arm around Amy and pulled her closer, but his polite smile remained directed at Autumn. “Welcome to our party, Bree. I hope you’ll enjoy it. There are some play areas set up farther down. We’ll have a couple of demonstrations later, and some fun games are supposed to happen every hour. I saw a piñata shaped like a dick, but I didn’t want to ask what they’re planning to do with it.”
“Whack it off.” Autumn pressed her lips together too late. She hoped David didn’t mind too much. The comment kind of slipped out.
He laughed, which made her feel better.
“I’m not sure I want to see that thing get beaten.”
“The winners get little prizes, and the overall winners get a prize package,” Amy supplied. “It has all sorts of cool stuff in it, like body butter, silk ropes, a handmade flogger, and a tiara. You don’t have to play all the games. Points are added up at the end of the night.”
David patted her hand where it wrapped around his bicep. “Maybe we’ll play a few and see about getting Bree a tiara.”
“Good luck with that.” Jordan chuckled. “The competition is fierce.”
Autumn studied David’s reaction to see whether he wanted to participate, but she wasn’t able to discern anything specific. She liked challenges, and she had a wicked competitive streak. If David wanted, she’d make sure they won. Perhaps, though, it would be better for his business prospects if they placed high instead of winning outright.
“We’re going to walk around a bit, see the sights.”
Jordan nodded. “Play spot the agents?”
“Already done. We’ll see you around.”
Autumn flashed a quick smile at Amy as she turned with David and entered the barn. It was a wide open space devoid of stalls or any signs animals may have at one time lived there. Bright lights, both white and colored, crisscrossed the high ceiling. Along one side, several areas were set up and roped off. In the far corner, tables and chairs were set up in rows in front of a huge display of food. She squeezed his arm, and when he inclined his head, she said, “Agents?”
“Yeah. Many of the Doms you’ll meet tonight are FBI agents.”
Autumn had an inborn skepticism when it came to law enforcement. She’d spent so much time learning how to evade their notice. Being at a play party full of them meant she needed to stay on her toes. And she admired David’s audacity at bringing a paid escort to a party full of the people responsible for making sure Ms. B. wasn’t running a high-priced hooker service. Which, of course, she wasn’t. What those girls did off the clock was their business, and the more repeat business they got, the more Ms. B. could charge for a date. Autumn didn’t play like that, so she didn’t rake in the higher commissions. Sure, men liked to have her humiliate and flog them, but they often failed to come back when she didn’t make sure the night had a happy ending.
Re/Leased (Doms of the FBI Book 5) Page 3
