Marcia and Derrick hadn’t been there the night Cris first returned to the club, forced there by Landry.
It figured the first night they’d taken off from the club in weeks, and drama happened. Well, sort of. A quiet drama no one had known about. Gilo and Tony hadn’t been there, either, or they would have also stepped in. There was a private party going on up in Tarpon Springs at Mac and Sully’s place, and most of the “old-timers” had been in attendance there. Ross and Loren had opted out of that party at the last-minute when a morning toilet repair had turned into an all-day toilet replacement, and Ross felt too tired to make the long round-trip drive to Mac and Sully’s and back.
And Ross and Loren had arrived after Cris and Landry, missing his entrance.
If any of the others had been there manning the front desk, Cris probably wouldn’t have survived the night. Marcia would have gladly taken a couple of whacks at the sonofabitch herself. Whatever they’d left of him, Loren and Ross would have mopped the floor with.
As it was, it’d been a newer volunteer who hadn’t known about Cris and his history with the club, and had let the two men in as guests when their IDs checked out okay on the USDOJ’s sex offender database.
“How can Cris have the utter brass balls to show his face around here after what he did to her?” Marcia asked.
“It wasn’t his choice,” Ross said, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Landry brought him back with him.”
Then Ross gave them, and the so-far assembled guests, the short version of the full story.
When he finished, Marcia looked at Derrick, who also looked gut-punched. He’d just lost a college friend a few months back to colon cancer.
“Is the guy gonna make it?” Derrick asked.
Marcia now had a whole new understanding of why their Tilly had done this.
And not for the money.
With all of their emotional wounds still raw even a couple of years after having lost Kaden, they couldn’t imagine their friend being able to resist Landry’s offer. It’d only been a little over a year since Kaden’s death, and plenty of people still teared up talking about him.
Especially when they had to give the heartbreaking news to people who hadn’t been to the club in a while and hadn’t yet heard about the man’s passing.
Tilly had a slave’s heart. Anyone who’d known her before Mistress Cardinal came onto the scene in full force had painfully felt the loss in her.
A chance to serve? To do some good? To be an actual nurse?
The ones who knew Tilly best knew she’d never really been comfortable in the pro-Domme role. But Tilly was pragmatic. Ruthlessly so. She made more money doing it full-time than she did as a nurse.
But…
It had almost physically hurt their small circle of friends to see the change in her. A change they all knew she never wanted. They’d seen the woman she’d been before meeting Cris. Broken, lost. He’d nurtured her, strengthened her, helped her grow and become a gorgeous, beautiful, confident woman.
And then…
He’d left. Abandoned her.
With him had left her heart, her love, her sweet, soft service, the easy laugh and gorgeous smile.
Marcia had been worried about anorexia at the rate Tilly had lost weight—and Tilly hadn’t been obese to start with—but Loren had assured her it was okay, that she was eating.
But Tilly hadn’t been living, she was only surviving.
She’d taken her inner pain and worn it as a coat of broken glass, and very few people ever got to glimpse the sweet, loving slave now hidden deep inside the darkest recesses of her soul.
Ross went quiet for a moment, composing the rest of his thoughts. Around them, despite all the people there, they all hung on his every word, the room dead silent.
“Not all of you have known Tilly as long as Loren and I have,” he said. “Those of you who have, you’ll understand what I’m about to say next. Loren and I have met Landry. Talked with him. We’ve seen Tilly and him together. And the reason we’re signing off on this and not talking her out of it or trying to have her committed is because for the first time in several years…” He trailed off, taking off his glasses and wiping at his eyes.
Marcia would swear he was close to tears.
“For the first time in several years,” Ross finally continued, “Tilly is wearing a smile that actually reaches her eyes. I saw Tilly again, not Mistress Cardinal. Our Tilly. So I’ll take a chance on this guy. And if it doesn’t work out, I’m sure several of you will give me alibis and help me hide the body.”
“Damn straight,” Gilo said.
A nervous titter swept through them. Not because he was joking.
But because they would all pitch in to help.
“But,” Ross continued, “please don’t focus on Landry and his cancer tonight. He’s requested that since we’re doing this for Tilly, that we focus on her and her happiness. And he also requests that, for the most part, we basically ignore Cris tonight.”
“How the hell do we do that?” Marcia asked.
“This is about Tilly,” Ross reminded her. “Just keep remembering that. Landry genuinely feels badly about what happened and feels like he’s ultimately responsible, even if he isn’t.”
“Not as badly as Cris’ll feel if I get my mitts on him,” Marcia muttered.
Derrick placed his hands on her shoulders. “Sweetie, believe me, we all want a whack at Cris. Let. It. Go.”
“Easier said than done,” Gilo said.
“Treat Cris like you would Booster,” Ross said. “Just ignore him.”
“I don’t want to kick Booster in his nuts,” Gilo said. “I like him.”
“Booster’s neutered,” Tony reminded him. “He doesn’t have nuts.”
“We could probably arrange that for Cris,” Gilo said. “Easily.”
Carl, with his slave wife, Penny, were recent members to the club. Carl was a retired veteran who’d been injured in a car accident not long after returning home from a tour of duty in Afghanistan. Now confined to a wheelchair, Carl’s black Lab service dog, Booster, had become a popular fixture at the club.
Carl always made sure, before they left for the evening, to take a few minutes to let Booster have “playtime” of his own, able to romp with his friends outside in the parking lot while Penny held a twenty-five-foot rope with a leash snap clip on one end. Otherwise, Booster normally stayed in “work” mode, bringing implements to Carl, who used a laser pointer to indicate which one he wanted.
Carl had proven to all of them they had no excuses when it came to enjoying life.
Unfortunately, Carl and Penny wouldn’t be there today, because their daughter was graduating from college. They had driven up to Atlanta for the weekend to attend the ceremony.
Ross glanced at his cell phone again. “They’re here.” He disappeared into the office.
Marcia and Derrick went to take their places. She leaned in. “I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” she whispered to him. “I don’t know if Tilly can survive another loss if Cris dumps her again. She damn near didn’t survive it the first time.”
“I trust Ross and Loren. If they think this is okay, then who are we to do anything but support our friend? If it does go tits-up, she’ll need all of us more than ever. So I won’t alienate her by not supporting her in this.”
She couldn’t argue with that logic.
Her cell phone, which she’d tucked into the pocket of her skirt, started vibrating. Loren. “Hello?”
“We’re almost there,” Loren said. “ETA five minutes. Is the groom there?”
“I think so. Ross just went into the office.”
“Good. Tell him to get into position, please.” Loren hung up and Marcia started toward the office, but Derrick snagged her arm.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Loren said they’re five minutes away, and to go tell Ross.”
“Abbey,” he said to their friend, “would you mind telling Ross
that Loren and Tilly are almost here?”
“Sure.” She looked a little puzzled, but went to do it.
Marcia wrinkled her nose at him. “Why’d you do that?” she asked.
He smiled. “Because I don’t feel like having to bail you out of jail for assault.”
“It’s a BDSM club. People get hit all the time.”
“And it’s only consensual if someone consents to being hit first.”
When Ross returned a few minutes later, he was joined by an admittedly handsome man…who was leading Cris on a leash.
She must have stepped forward again, because once again, Derrick grabbed her arm and hauled her back, this time giving her a stern look.
She suspected she was less than thirty seconds from getting a leash snapped onto her formal collar, too.
After snorting at Derrick, she finally relaxed and stepped back. But Derrick didn’t release her arm this time.
She couldn’t take her eyes off Cris and felt more than a little satisfaction when she watched Landry jerk his leash and put him on his knees, head bowed.
While she’d had a few revenge fantasies of her own about what she’d like to do to Cris, it was satisfying to see him like that…
And yet during the evening, the brief frowns Marcia spotted flitting across Tilly’s face at various times, between talking to others and the photographer taking their wedding pictures—and the way Tilly kept stepping between Cris and Loren so the other woman couldn’t kick him—didn’t fool her in the least.
Tilly, despite everything she’d suffered, still had feelings for the guy. Only an idiot would miss that.
All Marcia could do was pray that her friend was more than strong enough to get through whatever it was she had to get through.
* * * *
By the time the festivities ended, and volunteers had helped clean up and put the dungeon back into order, Marcia was beat. She’d changed into shorts and a T-shirt for the cleanup. She collapsed onto one of the sofas with a mug of hot tea.
Derrick sank down onto the couch, on one side of her. Loren sat on the other. Ross perched on the arm of the couch on Loren’s far side.
They all remained quiet for a few minutes.
Marcia finally said it. “He seems like a nice guy. Sadist, but nice guy.”
“I know,” Loren said. “Makes this one look like Winnie the Pooh by comparison.” She smiled up at her husband. “Love you, Sir.”
He chuckled. “Love you, too.”
“She’s not making a mistake, is she?” Marcia asked. “Because, seriously, I’ll sic June on the fucker if she is. Hell, screw that, I’ll do it myself.” June and Scrye had also been out of town, or they would have been there.
She’d seen Tilly ferocious, both in Domme mode and in protective friend mode. June, Scrye’s wife and a petite gymnastics teacher, ran a close second in terms of ferocity. She’d seen the two women tag-team a douchebag predator Dom with a history of discarding subs, who’d been hitting on a newbie at a munch one night, and they practically sent the guy out the door in tears by the time they’d finished verbally eviscerating him.
She had no doubts June was tough enough to take on Cris or Landry. Maybe both of them at the same time.
“I really don’t think she is making a mistake,” Ross said. “And even if she is…there will be a looong damn line to get at either of those two men. Good luck cutting to the front of that queue.”
Marcia reached for and found Derrick’s hand and squeezed. He laced fingers with her and squeezed back.
Over eighteen years of marriage and going strong, and she wouldn’t trade him on his worst day for anything. Even when he got sick and man-whiny, she’d still take him over…that. What Tilly had endured for several years.
“Okay,” Marcia said to Loren. “You said you’d tell me the full story. Spill it.”
Ross and Loren both told it. By the time they finished, Marcia shook her head. “Why the hell didn’t Cris just tell her the truth? Fly her out to California and introduce her to him? She could have taken care of him with Cris. She was studying to be a nurse, for chrissake.”
“That I can’t answer,” Loren said. “I’m sure we will eventually get the deets on that. Even if I have to pry them out of the asshole with a pair of pliers.”
“Oooh! Can I help?” Marcia asked. “Pick me! Pick me!”
“Tilly’s an adult,” Ross said. “We can’t make her decisions for her. Financially, this is a smart move. I mean, damn. I’m an attorney, and I can’t fault her for what she did. I made her let me look at the paperwork after she signed it.”
“Why the hell would this guy trust her like that?” Derrick asked. “How could he possibly know she wouldn’t rip him off and steal him blind?”
It was something Marcia wondered, too.
“Because, wrong or right, apparently he trusts Cris and Cris’ opinion of Tilly. Landry has, financially, the most to lose. And he’s fighting cancer. Who knows how serious it’ll be?”
“Isn’t it Cris with the most to lose?”
“No,” Ross said. “He’s already lost it all. Landry controls everything already. He’s trying to prove to Landry and Tilly that he deserves a chance to stay in their lives.”
“But why is Landry so pissed off at Cris?” Marcia asked, still confused. “I mean, Cris came back. Landry had him. Why is he—okay, yes, I enjoyed watching Cris being humiliated—putting Cris through the wringer like this?”
Ross seemed to be turning it over in his brain. “You’d have to ask him that for sure. If his thinking is the same as mine, then he feels responsible for what he considers not properly instructing Cris and indirectly causing pain to another.”
“But he’s alive because Cris left her.”
“I know. I think that’s the only reason he didn’t send Cris packing and opted to do this. Because he wants Tilly and Cris to have each other again. To try to right this perceived wrong he feels he triggered. I get it. I don’t agree with it, but I get it.”
“Crazy.” Marcia sipped her tea. “Just when I think I’ve seen it all—and remember, we see Gilo in here a damn lot—something even weirder happens and blows the bell curve to hell again.”
When they were riding home that night, Marcia stared out the windshield and tried to process everything. “Promise me something, please?”
“I’ll do my best,” Derrick said. “What is it?”
She turned to him. “Promise me that if, for whatever reason, you decide you don’t want to be married to me anymore, that you’ll face me like a man and not just up and disappear with a stupid note.”
In the lights from the dashboard, she saw storm clouds form in his expression. He reached across the seat and took her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing it without taking his eyes off the road. “I swear to you, unless I’m abducted or otherwise killed, I will never up and leave you. Ever.”
“Don’t promise you’ll never leave me. I won’t make you do that.”
“But I mean it.” At the next light, he looked at her. “I’m not about to throw the better part of twenty years away. You’re the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. Why do you think I don’t play with anyone else, even though I probably could if I wanted to? I don’t want to. I don’t need to. I don’t fault those who do, but I’m happy.”
Her heart fluttered the way it always did when he got like this. The way it always had from the first date they’d gone on after meeting at a munch.
The only man who’d done that to her.
“I love you, too.”
He smiled. “Good, because you’re stuck with me. I’m not going anywhere unless it’s in a box. And don’t joke that it can easily be arranged, because yes, I’m well aware of how many friends we have and that they’d take your side over mine if I screwed up epically like Cris did.”
She grinned. “I wouldn’t let them kill you. Maim you, maybe. But not kill.”
“Such a romantic slave you are, baby.”
“
And you’re stuck with me.”
“In all the good ways.”
Chapter Fifteen
Shayla, the magazine journalist Tony had taken under his wing to train as a submissive, was doing research for a series of articles for the Sarasota magazine she worked for.
Marcia had worried about it at first, but Ross and Loren had thought it was a great idea, talking Derrick and Tony into it.
Now, the first article was live. With more than a little trepidation, Marcia pulled up the article on her iPad. Since it was her own personal iPad, it wasn’t like she was worried about someone accidentally seeing what she was reading. Besides, it was their accounting firm.
And she was, technically, tech support for their company. IT, office manager, and chief coffee pot washer because she was apparently the only one worried about catching a disease from the damn thing if it went unwashed for too long.
As she read, she relaxed. Obviously, Shayla had done her research well. The article was written fairly, objectively. It wasn’t salacious, and it certainly didn’t portray them as sex-crazed freaks.
It actually normalized them.
She relaxed a little more.
Then she pulled up the club’s e-mail account on her iPad—
And her heart nearly stopped.
She had twenty-five new e-mails. Hell, they were lucky to get five a week in that account, not counting spam, and automated bank notices when deposits hit.
And these weren’t spam.
They were all from their website contact form.
She tapped the first one to open it.
Hi, I read the magazine article. I never realized people did this in real life, much less locally. How can I take a class in this? I have felt like this all my life and thought there was something wrong with me…
And they pretty much all read along that vein. She responded to all of them with assurances that they weren’t alone, broken, freaks, damaged, or any other negative descriptor.
She also wrote a sticky note to herself to schedule another Newbies 101 class before the one the following month.
Open Doors [Suncoast Society] (Siren Publishing Sensations) Page 11
