by Tara Rose
Nash smiled. “Ian and I were the only two in the group who actually did anything, so we spent a lot of time bitching about what slack-offs the rest of them were.”
“Did you also go through graduate school together?” She knew Ian would have a master’s degree at a minimum to work in his profession, but what about Nash?
“We had an apartment off campus together by then,” said Ian, “but our fields are so different that we had no further classes together.”
Nash gave her a quick glance, as if debating whether to say anything. “Most people don’t know this, Angela. I have an MFA in art.”
“I had no idea, Nash. Had you planned to teach, or were you simply interested in it?”
He shrugged. “I had no clue what to major in. I was eighteen, both my parents were gone, and I found myself head of a foundation and a string of companies that I knew nothing about. Most of my remaining family members tried to persuade me to get an MBA, but that idea sounded like the most boring one on the planet. Art was a way to express myself at first, but then I grew interested in art history as I continued. They don’t offer a specific graduate major in that, so I simply tailored the program they had at the University of Denver to suit my tastes.”
He flashed another quick grin at her, and Angela’s head was once again filled with images from the previous night. “I’m not qualified to do much with it, to be honest, but I don’t regret my time there.”
“Yeah,” said Ian. “And if he hadn’t chosen to attend UD, but had instead gone the way of an MBA online, he’d never have gotten to know me so well.”
“Should have gone for the online degree,” muttered Nash.
Angela laughed. “Don’t you mean ‘DU’? You’re supposed to refer it that way, from what I heard.”
“Oh, you’re right,” said Ian, smacking himself in the forehead. “I must now surrender my alumni card. Shame on me.”
They pulled onto Sandcherry Road, and Angela’s palms grew damp. It was easy to make small talk in the car, but what would happen when conversation lagged at dinner? Would she have the courage to outline her plan for them? What if they turned her down? She’d then have to endure the ride home with them, knowing that. Should she wait to ask until after they brought her back home?
“Here we are.” Nash pulled into the circular drive out front and exited the car. Ian opened her door while Nash handed his keys to the valet parking attendant. Ian offered his arm and Angela took it, drawing strength from his warmth.
As they walked inside, Nash placed a hand on her lower back, just resting there. A shiver ran up and down her spine. Both men were showing subtle signs of possessiveness in public. She hadn’t expected that. This couldn’t be that easy, could it?
If Bev Cameron, the hostess, was surprised to see Angela waltz in with Nash and Ian, she didn’t show it. Bev had been the hostess here since Angela could remember, and she was always poised and unassuming. Tonight was no different as she greeted the three by name, wearing a neutral smile. She led them to a secluded table that overlooked Rio Blanco Lake. The setting sun illuminated the water, making it sparkle like diamonds. Angela smiled as Ian pulled out the chair that would allow her to face the water. He took the seat on her left, and Nash sat to her right.
“Thank you,” she said, glancing from one man to the other. “I didn’t expect this.”
Nash’s smile was quick and easy. “It was the least we could do, Angela.”
She glanced around. The closest table was far enough away that if they spoke quietly, they wouldn’t be overheard. This would be the perfect opportunity to ask them. Her pulse raced and her mouth was suddenly dry. “You guys didn’t have to do this.”
Nash frowned slightly and looked about to speak, but their server appeared. He spent what felt like hours outlining the specials and featured wines, and Angela didn’t hear a word he said. She only wanted to get all this off her chest and find out what their answer was. When their server asked her what she wanted to drink, her mind went blank, and she had a sudden urge to bolt. She couldn’t do this.
“We’ll have a bottle of the 2008 Vie de Roman Piere Sauvignon,” said Ian. He gave Angela a reassuring smile as the server left. “I hope you don’t mind that I ordered for you.”
She put down her menu. “I wish you would. I seem to have left my brains in Nash’s car.”
She hadn’t meant it as a joke, but both men chuckled. Nash covered her hand with his, and a jolt of electricity shot up her arm. The image of him placing the leather cuffs around her wrists came back to her, and she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his eyes. “Angela, we wanted to do this. Thank you for accepting.”
“I shouldn’t have stomped off like a brat last night.”
“We’re past that, remember?” asked Ian. “You weren’t being bratty. We’d both like to move forward from this point, if you’ll agree not to think ill of yourself for what happened at the club.”
She was too stunned to answer him. He’d meant what he said last night in her living room, and now it was out in the open. If she was waiting for the perfect opportunity to ask them, this was it.
“We should have gone slower with you,” said Nash. “It’s just that you showed up looking so…” He sighed. “Looking so ready, but don’t misinterpret that, okay? I don’t mean easy or anything like that. I mean you appeared to know exactly what you wanted, but we should have known better.”
“I thought I knew, Nash. I really did. I don’t want either of you thinking I was playing a game.”
“We don’t think that, Angela. We know you believed you were ready for that scene. But all you’d done with Brett was watch, and we both knew that.”
“I hope you’ll give us both another chance,” said Ian.
Angela let out a sound that was halfway between a sigh and a laugh. This was too good to be true. It sounded as though they both wanted what she did. All she had to do was ask. She took a deep breath with the intention of just letting the question come out, but then the wine arrived.
As Ian tasted a glass, Nash let go of her hand and glanced over the menu. He ordered an appetizer for them, and then once they each had a glass of wine and were alone again, he raised his glass. “To possibilities.”
Angela couldn’t help but smile. She’d drink to that, because possibilities were exactly what she was hoping for tonight. She took a sip of wine, but the giddiness she felt had nothing to do with the beverage. Would they say yes? Before she lost her nerve, she placed her wineglass on the table and took a deep breath. “Okay. I have a question. Actually, I have a lot of questions, but one is very specific.”
“Ask us anything you’d like,” said Nash.
She dug in her purse and pulled out her list then smoothed it out on the table.
Ian chuckled. “You weren't kidding.”
She didn’t want to meet his gaze, knowing she must look ridiculous right now. “I didn’t want to forget to say any of this.”
“Are those questions about our lifestyle?” asked Nash, his voice full of incredulity.
She met his gaze and shook her head. “Not exactly.”
“What are they then?”
A fierce flush crept up her neck and face, and she took another sip of wine before answering him. “There’s something I want to propose to both of you.”
“I’m intrigued,” said Ian.
Their appetizer arrived, and once Nash had scooped some of the stuffed crabmeat and cheese balls onto her plate, she picked at them while she glanced at the bullet points she’d written down. This speech had gone much easier in the shower this morning.
“Just say it,” said Nash. “I promise we won’t bite.”
“Unless you want us to,” said Ian under his breath.
She laughed, more from nervousness than anything. “Okay. Here goes. I guess by now you realize I’m interested in learning more about your lifestyle, and I still have a lot of questions. But having my questions answered isn’t all I want.”
She leaned forward.
“I’m just going to say it. I’ve had fantasies about being tied up and spanked for as long as I can remember, but my actual experience with any kind of kinky sex is…well…last night was the most I’ve done. And I know there’s more to this than kinky sex. I want to understand it. All of it.”
“How do you know that you want to?” Nash’s gaze was piercing and intent.
Angela squirmed in her seat and stuffed a piece of the appetizer into her mouth, trying to formulate an intelligent answer to his question while she chewed and then swallowed. The food might as well have been cardboard because she didn’t even taste it. “I’m not sure how to answer that.”
He nodded. “Fair enough. Then tell us this much, at least. Last night, when you were restrained and we began to flog you, what was going through your head? What did you like about it? And, Angela, just so we’re all being open and honest here, we know you liked it.”
His grin forced a soft moan from her. He leaned close and the scent of his cologne filled her head, sparking memories again from the night before. “You know how we know? Your pussy was soaking wet and dark with blood engorgement.”
Angela opened her mouth to answer him but nothing came out, which was just as well because their server was back, asking if the appetizer was good, and if they were ready to order entrees. Angela glanced at the menu again, but she couldn’t make sense of the words. They ran together into sentences, but she still couldn’t read them.
Dozens of answers to Nash’s question ran through her mind, but none of them seemed to adequately capture the emotions she’d felt last night. Was this a horrible mistake? How could she explain this to them if she couldn’t even form a coherent rationalization in her own mind?
“Would you like us to order for you?” asked Ian.
She nodded and closed the menu. “Please.”
After they’d ordered dinner and the server left again, she took another sip of wine, and then leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I was aroused, excited, and a tiny bit afraid, but not afraid as in I thought you were going to hurt me or anything. More like, the anticipation of not knowing what to expect.”
He nodded, and the interested look on his face encouraged her to continue. “I loved being under your control—not being able to move.”
“What specifically did you like about that, Angela?”
She glanced down at her list of bullet points, which now seemed silly and horribly inadequate. She’d been worried about making a point but hadn’t anticipated that he’d be delving into her psychological makeup. Angela wasn’t sure she was ready to go there, but if she couldn’t answer his questions, she might never have the chance to ask for what she wanted.
“I liked not being able to make the decisions.”
“But you were able to make them,” said Ian. “That’s why you had safewords. You actually controlled the scene. Submissiveness is a gift you choose to give or take away. It’s a sign of respect for your Dom or Doms.”
She swallowed hard against the sudden lump in her throat. “Do submissives give up everything?”
Nash shook his head. “No, not at all. All surrendering of control comes with limits. And at any time a sub can ask to negotiate something.”
“It’s a lifestyle commitment,” said Ian. “This isn’t just about playing at the club. This is twenty-four-seven.”
“That’s right,” said Nash. “But also understand that there isn’t only one way to do this. A Dom/sub relationship is whatever the people in it say it is.”
She put away her list. Nothing she’d written on there went as deep as the conversation they were now having. “When you talk about it being a twenty-four-seven commitment, how deep does that go, exactly?”
“That depends on the parties involved. What specifically are you asking about, Angela?”
Angela shrugged. She had no idea where to begin. “Well, is it like dating? I mean, when Brett and I first got together, we had a period of getting to know each other. How is that handled?”
“The same way. There’s always a transition period.” Ian smiled. “We’re still just people, Angela.”
Right. Gorgeous, charismatic people that could give her every fantasy she’d ever had and then some. “What if there’s something about me you can’t stand? Then what?”
“That part is no different than any relationship. If there’s something about a sub that I think she can change in order to better herself, we talk about it. If she wants to change it, we work on it. But neither of us is going to try and make you into something you’re not, or ask you to be somebody you don’t want to become.”
Nash gave her a thoughtful look. “Angela, did Brett try to change you in some way?”
He had to be a mind reader. “In a way. I tend to get a bit…gossipy. He was always bitching about it.”
Ian grinned. “I noticed that about you every time I was in the dental chair, but honestly, you’re not that bad. Is that something about yourself that you want to change?”
She nodded, surprised that they’d managed to extricate this confession from her. It was something she rarely acknowledged to herself. “It is. I mean, my big mouth has gotten me into trouble before. You don’t see the worst of it when I’m at work, Ian.”
“Okay. A Dom would help you work on that in a constructive, positive way.” He nodded toward her purse. “What else was on the list you tucked away? What other questions do you have for us?”
Her bullet points had become useless by this point, but she did have one burning question. “Do either of you have a sub now?”
“No,” they answered together.
Nash smiled and then spoke while Ian took a sip of wine. “Neither of us do right now.”
“What’s your next question?” asked Ian.
She took another sip of wine, but the alcohol wouldn’t help her and she knew it. She had to do this on her own. “I only have one more.”
“Then ask it, Angela.”
She glanced from one man to the other, and then just blurted it out. “I want you both to train me as a sub. I want to learn about this firsthand, and…and I want it to be from both of you.”
Chapter Eight
Ian stared at Angela for a few seconds, convinced he’d heard wrong. He hadn’t known what to expect, especially after she’d pulled out that list. All he really wanted to do right now was hold her and tell her it was going to be okay. She looked like she was ready to jump out of her skin, and if she didn’t stop sipping wine she would be too drunk to have a conversation that would make any sense to her in the morning. “Say that again?”
Nash shot him a nasty look, but Ian ignored it. He wanted to be absolutely certain what Angela was asking, and if she truly understood it.
“I would like you both to train me as a submissive.”
“When did you decide this was what you wanted?” asked Nash.
Ian wished he’d stop playing amateur shrink, but at the same time he understood where Nash was going with this. One scene where she’d used a safeword not too far into it was the extent of her experience, and up until about five minutes ago, she thought they were upset with her for using it. She also apparently thought they were upset that she’d left the club. Nash would be far more cautious in agreeing to this than Ian would.
“This morning. That’s why I made the list of bullet points. Reading about it and having someone answer questions isn’t the way to learn. The only way to do that is to truly experience it, by living it.”
Ian stroked the back of her hand. He could almost see the slight shiver course through her body. How would he get through dinner? His damn dick was rock hard right now at the thought of training her as a sub. If Nash said no, he didn’t care. He’d gladly do this, with or without his best friend. “I agree, Angela, but you seemed to have reached that conclusion rather quickly, and considering last night left you feeling as though you’d failed, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised right now.”
She nodded several times and was about to speak, bu
t Nash beat her to it. “I have to agree with Ian. But tell me this. Had you given this any thought before today?”
“Oh yes. Plenty of times.”
“Why now, then? What changed?”
“That will require talking about Brett.”
Ian bit back a smile. The change that came over her face and her voice when she mentioned Brett’s name was palpable. If Ian had held onto any doubts that it was truly over between them, he no longer did.
“Then talk about him, Angela,” said Nash. “This is important. Ian and I need to understand your motivation for wanting this.”
She sighed and stared out over the water for a few moments, and then their entrees arrived. Ian watched her carefully as she ate. He could see the struggle of emotions crossing her face in the way she avoided eye contact with either of them, and even in the way she stabbed her chicken with her fork. If Nash weren’t here, he’d approach this differently, but he didn’t want a repeat of last night where they’d left her feeling as though she’d come between them.
He and Nash had never shared a sub, other than during a scene. But there had been no sexual contact during their play. Ian sincerely hoped Angela realized that if they agreed to this, there would most definitely be sexual contact as well as play. He was fairly sure Nash would want that as well.
“Brett was never interested,” she finally said. “I tried, but I just don’t think some people are, you know?”
“That’s true,” said Nash. “It’s no different than art or music. Some people like it and appreciate it, others don’t.”
“If I hadn’t been with him for so long I would have done something about my desires a long time ago. But you see, once I start down that road, the inevitable questions come up. Why did you take him back so many times, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. And I’m just not ready to go there.”
Nash leaned closer to her. “Don’t you think it’s important to find out why you kept taking him back? You told me he was familiar and comfortable, yet you still find it difficult to talk about him. That leads me to wonder if there isn’t something more underneath the surface that you need to resolve.”
