She shouldn’t want more.
But she did.
Holding her tongue between her teeth, she tipped her head back, sliding down abruptly so she was laying on Chicklet’s lap. She bit back a laugh as Chicklet smiled down at her.
“I’m not that into hockey. And my flight leaves tomorrow afternoon anyway…I got here Wednesday morning. I wasn’t interested in the vendor displays or the masquerade ball, so I figured I’d enjoy the rest of my time off at home. Unless Sir had…” She rolled her eyes. She might have taken a later flight if Mills had asked.
“I see.” Chicklet gave a light shrug, then eased off her lap to sit beside her. “Well then, it was a pleasure—”
“Wait! I didn’t mean that to sound so final.” Laura took a deep breath. “I have the whole week off. I’d like to see you back home, if that’s all right?”
“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Chicklet’s brow arched at her nod. “I guess all the hedging gave me the wrong impression.”
No surprise there. Laura clasped her hands on her bare thighs, wishing she’d put clothes on before getting into this conversation. Chicklet had every reason to wonder if Laura had any idea what she wanted.
Strangely enough, the biggest problem was this felt like asking a woman on a date. Asking a Domme on a date. And she’d never done either before.
Asking one of her first crushes, Stacey, to dance at prom had been the closest she’d come to asking for intimacy from anyone. They’d dated for a while, a couple of idealistic teens who believed their love could conquer all.
In college, no one had really cared about them being together, but things were very different in the workforce. There was an undertone of hostility toward queers in the police academy, and Stacey became a student teacher in a Catholic school with very specific—yet carefully worded—rules of conduct.
Laura had been willing to face all the hate in the world for Stacey, but with demanding careers, they hadn’t even had time to make a statement. And the few times they tried to go out in public Laura got nervous every time someone caught them holding hands. Stacey accused her of not being serious about their relationship, but Laura’s real issue was she’d never faced how much damage being kicked out on the streets by her mother had done.
They’d split without too much anger and moved on with their lives. She’d been hurt for a while, lost without that warmth by her side at night and all the passion they’d shared. Throwing herself into her work eventually dulled the pain. She got used to being on her own.
Last she’d heard, Stacey had married a sweet British woman, adopted two kids, and moved to New York to work at a private school.
All that while Laura had slipped back into the closet, not dating, not having much of a personal life at all until she discovered BDSM. And met Mills.
Mills showed her that giving up control for a few hours could satisfy her every need without putting her heart at risk. She’d grown attached to him, but she didn’t even cry when she read his email, explaining why they had to break things off.
Six months wasn’t that long compared to the years she’d been alone, but with a few flicks of her flogger, Chicklet had opened up a dam and Laura couldn’t stop the flood. She missed being held. Missed being kissed and touched. Missed having someone besides her brother to share all the good and the bad in her life.
There was no telling if Chicklet could be that someone. Not after one night.
But what if she was?
She didn’t believe in fate, but she did believe in not letting opportunities slip through her fingers. Life was too short for regrets.
The music died, the lights flicked on and she blinked as everything around her changed. The club didn’t look so sexy anymore. The scent of cleaner filled the air, a sharp bleach scent. All the benches and chains and props seemed strewn haphazardly around the room, like abandoned playthings in a child’s messy room.
But even in the light, Chicklet hadn’t changed at all. She sat next to Laura, her expression calm. Patient, as though she was ready to wait as long as it took for Laura to tell her what she needed to hear.
Laura lifted her head and smiled. “I’m ready.”
Chapter 3
Chicklet sat behind the glass, sipping her beer and rolling her eyes as a fan behind her bitched about a clearly legal hit. Second period and her boys were leading 3-1. In her opinion, they’d gotten lucky. Their goalie, Giroux, seemed off tonight, but they had a solid defense with Dominik Mason, who logged in more ice time than almost anyone in the league. The muscular black man, who served as team enforcer, had blocked several shots with his body, and taken out two agitators with bone crushing hits.
Those two were also the Blackhawks’ leading scorers, and without them, the Dartmouth Cobras had a distinct advantage. Chicago’s team was already struggling with injuries, leaving them with no choice but to pull up players from their farm team.
Which meant the Cobras couldn’t brag if they won. Anyone could see they were playing sloppy as shit.
Didn’t change her deal with Sloan though. The man had bet her they’d score three goals in the first period. If he won, she had to put on his jersey for the last two periods, which he knew she found fucking lame.
Yes, she loved him, but she didn’t have to wear his number on her back to prove it. If she had to pick one member of the team to represent, it would be Mason. Those brutal hits of his had made buying his jersey not long after he joined the team a worthy investment.
But between periods she’d gone to the washroom to change into the jersey her smug best friend had handed her before the game.
A deal was a deal.
I’m so gonna make him pay for this.
Despite the stupid bet, she had to admit, she’d be a fan of the team even if Sloan didn’t play for them. For a new team with all the odds stacked against them, they fared pretty well in the standings. Tonight might not be a stellar example of what they were capable of, but the core of the team still showed that desperation they needed to prove they belonged in the league.
Still, this late in the season she hadn’t expected the game to be so boring. The third line hit the ice and it was like every man out there had forgotten how to hockey. She slouched back in her seat, uncertain if that was the only reason she was so disinterested tonight.
Maybe she was just eager to get home.
Or maybe you’re missing a sweet little sub who’s waiting for your call.
Thinking of Laura made Chicklet smile. She wasn’t in the habit of lying to herself, so yes, she couldn’t wait to see her again. They’d taken a cab back to the host hotel together, and Laura had jotted down her phone number on a Post-It note she plucked out of the day-planner in her purse. Shyly told Chicklet she was free all week before stepping onto the elevator.
After Laura had gotten dressed, Chicklet took a minute to adjust to how different she appeared from the woman who’d been bound in only a lace bra and panties. Her dark blue skirt suit was so much like a uniform; she wasn’t surprised to learn Laura was a cop. Sure, Chicklet knew a few cops who dressed casually off duty, but something about Laura made it clear she brought that clean cut, take-no-shit, attitude home with her.
The only time she set down the weight of the badge was probably when she submitted to the right Dom. One who could set her free from all the responsibilities. Who could help her forget the twisted shit she must encounter every day.
Chicklet had played with people in high-stress jobs before, seen how much good she could do for them, yet every one wanted the same thing from her. The traditional confines of a relationship—which she just wasn’t built for. Sure, she knew even in the lifestyle, her way of doing things didn’t fly with everyone, but fuck them. She enjoyed her life. She was a bisexual woman, and a Domme trained in almost every kink imaginable. Why the hell would she let anyone set limits on her?
But she did know Doms and Dommes in the lifestyle in open relationships who had that special pet they cherished. A person to come home
to at the end of the day. The one that wasn’t there just for play.
Her longest relationship had been with the Domme and Dom who trained her. She’d been eighteen when she met Zed and Jaylene. She’d submitted to them for over a year before she’d even explored becoming a Domme herself. They’d had something of a triad until she’d hit her mid-twenties and the relationship had worked for her. It wasn’t restrictive. There was no jealousy, which she’d never really understood on observing ‘normal’ couples.
Moving forward, not much had changed. She had no dreams of a white picket fence, or babies, or even sharing her home. Despite years of schooling, learning everything from business management to phycology, she decided she would become a bartender like her father and manage his bar in Digby. And spent some time working as a pro-Domme.
She still took the odd appointments—the money was good—but they weren’t as satisfying as they used to be.
Actually, not a single scene she’d done in years was half as fulfilling as the one with Laura last night. Strange, because in comparison, it was a pretty mild scene. She tended to play a bit edgier, push as many limits as she could.
But the limits for Laura had been pushed to the brink the second Chicklet had touched her. Once she’d been bound and blindfolded, she surrendered so completely, so honestly, Chicklet did everything in her power to keep the scene going as long as possible. She wanted Laura to need more from her, even though, at that point, she hadn’t had a clue how that more could be had.
Going from an implied ‘That was fun, have a nice life’ to ‘Maybe we could go out sometime?’ had been awesome, but her reactions worried her. She knew better than to get involved with a sub so conflicted with their own desires.
People paying money, after filling out a long form consisting of limits, then a waiver, tended to be very clear about what they wanted. Blades & Ice had all the fun paperwork to weed out the thrill seekers, the timid, and the predators. Which made casual play easy.
She had a feeling Laura could do casual. Keeping things between them light would be practical for them both. After just one scene, Chicklet shouldn’t even be thinking beyond the kinky fun they could have next time.
Only…she couldn’t seem to stop.
The period ended and Chicklet apologized when a young man hesitated at her side, asking softly if he could pass. Smiling, Chicklet stood. The boy’s eyes widened and he tripped backward. She grabbed his arm and his skin went white.
“Easy, kid.” She fought not to laugh as he swallowed hard and gaped up at her. “I don’t bite.”
That’s a lie.
Of course, he was a little too young to toy with. She didn’t mind a cute twink now and then, but she preferred to earn that anxious look.
“I’m sorry, lady. I…umm…you’re really tall.” Red spread over his cheeks, all the way up to his ears. “But not in a bad way!”
Is there a bad way to be tall? She laughed, not taking offense because she’d dealt with this before. “Goalies tend to be a good height. Helps you cover more space between the pipes.”
His eyes shone with excitement. “You’re a goalie? That’s so cool! I’m the goalie for my local team, the Bear Paws. We’re nothing special—I won’t ever be at their level.” He shot a longing glance toward the rink.
“Hey, you never know. A lot of them played for small teams all over before being picked up.” Another look at the boy and she put him in his late teens at best. Cute as a puppy, but not suitable prey. Still, she never turned down hockey talk. “One thing the league needs more of is quality goaltenders.”
He gave her a broad grin. “For sure. And I—”
“Hey, Pete! You coming?” The boy’s friend, who’d headed the other way, called out to him impatiently.
The boy, Pete, rolled his eyes. “I gotta go. Wanna stay and support the team, even though they’re getting their asses handed to them by your guys.” He shrugged. “My friends wanna go party. What can you do?”
“It was nice talking to you, Pete.” Before he could step away she reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, kid? Don’t forget what I said, eh? You want what they have? It ain’t easy, but it’s not impossible.”
She wasn’t sure why she thought he needed to hear that, but his excitement was hard to ignore. For all she knew he was just another teenager with all kinds of dreams, but no drive. The hockey players she knew dedicated their life to the game. But they’d all been young once.
He inclined his head, his brown eyes serious. His friend called again and he sighed. “Thank you. Coach says I’ve got potential. Maybe I can get an invite to training camp or something. That would be cool.”
“That would be.” She waved him off. “Have a good night.”
“You too!”
Settling back in her seat, she watched the Zamboni resurface the ice, sipping at her beer and letting her mind wander. She’d managed not to think about Laura through that entire conversation. At least five minutes. A new record!
Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her jeans. She pulled it out and smiled.
A text from her girl.
She’s not ‘your girl’.
The fact that she had to remind herself was messed up. But screw it, she wouldn’t deny that she wanted to make Laura hers.
LAURA: Hey, I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time. I checked on the game and saw the second period was over. I just wanted to let you know I’m home. And see if you still want to hang out this week.
Chicklet’s smile widened. Laura wasn’t into hockey, but had tuned in for the right time to text?
Could she be any more perfect?
CHICKLET: That was very thoughtful of you. I’m taking the red-eye home, and crashing at Sloan’s place for a day or so. What did you have in mind?
She could tell Laura was typing, but then stopped. Started and stopped for what seemed a ridiculously long time. Unless she was typing out a novel, in which case, at least she was spacing the paragraphs.
The typing stopped. Resumed.
LAURA: Would you like to come to my place for dinner?
Short and simple, but asking clearly hadn’t been. Chicklet had a feeling Laura wouldn’t have asked this at all if she was a man. The woman was smart. Careful. Some might figure the scenes she’d participated in proved otherwise, but those people had a very narrow view of the lifestyle.
Regardless, it was interesting that Laura was inviting her to her place. Maybe it was safer than being seen in public with a woman, but…she had neighbors, didn’t she?
Neighbors won’t think twice about her having a female friend over.
True.
Which meant Chicklet could remain a dirty little secret.
And she had no idea how she felt about that.
CHICKLET: Are your walls soundproof?
Yeah, she was being a bit of a bitch, but fuck it. She’d always been honest about what she expected from her subs. If Laura wanted nothing more than friendship, she’d better make that clear from the get-go. If she was considering Chicklet as her Domme there was no point in pretending she was going there for a casual meal.
She kept her circle of friends small, most were teammates from her beer league. They hung out at bars, or went out for greasy burgers. She didn’t do potluck dinners and other stiff social gatherings.
Laura didn’t seem the type to go for those either, but who knew? She might want to pretend they were just friends to keep up appearances. In which case they could go to a restaurant. Chicklet knew how to behave in public.
You’re making way too much of this. She wants to see you. Isn’t that all that matters?
The next text kept her from having to answer her own question.
LAURA: Not particularly soundproof, but considering how often I’ve heard my neighbor scream ‘Daddy’ to her husband, I’m not too worried.
* * *
I do think I should clarify something, though. I’m not asking you over expecting a scene, but I won’t say no to one either. I conside
red going out somewhere fancy, but…that’s not me. I want to get to know you, have a real conversation, not have to watch what we say because of who might be around.
* * *
That said, I hope we’ll get to hang out a lot this week. And after. In public.
Well now, this was an interesting development. Somehow Laura had eased all her concerns in a few sentences. Chicklet liked how perceptive she was. She didn’t sound uncertain, except with the last bit. Unless Chicklet was reading too much into that disjointed line, Laura would likely take her lead when it came to their future dates.
Even at her place, it sounded like she wanted Chicklet to take control of what happened between them. Fair enough. As a submissive, she might be wary of inviting a Dom over and expecting anything from them.
Which could come in handy.
CHICKLET: That sounds agreeable. When would you like me to come by?
A slight pause. Then a quick reply.
LAURA: I would love for you to come tomorrow, but you might be tired after all that traveling?
Damn it, why did the woman have to be so sweet? Chicklet grinned and shook her head. Here she was, ready to concoct all kinds of evil plans and Laura was excited to see her. Maybe they were on the same page after all.
CHICKLET: Tomorrow would be great. Would you like me to bring anything?
LAURA: Maybe your favorite drink? I have everything planned out, and a nice red wine to go with dinner, but I noticed you drinking beer and I’m not sure which kind you prefer… Unless you’d like me to pick it up?
* * *
CHICKLET: Wine will be fine. Text me your address and I’ll come over around 5pm.
Butterfly Style: The Dartmouth Cobras ~ A Cobra Short Page 4
