by Selena Kitt
"Oh, honey, this calls for tequila, stat!"
She sat her down at the bar in her kitchen, lined up lime wedges and two glasses which she filled to the brim with silver label Jose Cuervo. After they both tossed one back, Julie leaned her forearms on the counter while she grabbed both of Cassie's hands. "Tell me."
"I need a change, Jules. A makeover, or a hot new romance. I'm in a rut and have been since grad school."
"That's why you're crying? Because you need a makeover? Bull crap!"
"You're right, it's more than that. I've realized that something I've wanted to happen for a very long time, just won't—ever. No matter how much I want it to."
"It's a man. Who is it?"
"No one important. A friend, or at least that's all he wants to be."
"Oh, honey. I'm so sorry. But you're right. There's no better way to get over one dumbass man, than with another."
Cassie's eyes shot to her friend, and she giggled, or the tequila made her do so.
Julie laughed as well. "That didn't come out right. You need a different man, a better one."
Her heart sank, she doubted there was a better one out there than Flynn.
"Come with me and Colt to our club this weekend."
"I can't afford your club, honey. I don't know how you do."
"The managing partner is an ex-SEAL who gives frogmen special rates. But you don't have to worry about that. They're having a membership mixer weekend. Potential members get in free. You can meet new people, scope out potential doms, and tour the facility. If you hit it off with a wealthy dom—of which there are many—he can and will take care of your fees for you."
Cassie wrinkled her nose. "Sounds like a big pick-up party and a little whorish if you ask me, trading my submission for membership fees. I don't know."
"This is not like the meat markets you've been to in the past, Cass. The clientele is very different, classier and without all the leering jerks and posers. They have intense security screenings and won't accept just anybody."
"What makes you sure they'll accept me? Clearly, I'm nothing special."
Julie stopped and stared at her a moment, a shadow of anger sweeping across her face as her hands came to her hips. "Who did this to you, honey? I'll have Colt kick his ass."
Her friend's husband was big, yet not nearly as tall or muscular as Flynn. He was a few years younger than the commander, but she'd still bet against her longtime friend in a head-to-head match up.
It was hard to believe a decade had passed since the three of them had met. Julie and Cassie became friends first while undergrads at USC. Although a year older, Cassie had several classes with Julie and joined the same study group. They hit it off right away and eventually became roommates their senior year. Both were attentive to their studies, but you couldn't say you'd had the full college experience without attending a few parties, including at least one at a frat or sorority. Most were boring with guys drinking too much beer, acting like asses, and only looking to score, but something that happened at one in particular, had stuck in their minds and been a turning point for them both.
It had gotten pretty rowdy and beer was flowing as usual, several of the partiers got wilder and more amorous than they felt comfortable with and Cassie and Julie decided to leave. As they were making their way through the crowd to the front door, one of the guys took down the hazing paddle from its place of honor on the wall and proceeded to give his girlfriend a few teasing whacks in front of everyone.
Cassie and Julie expected her to throw a fit, but instead she'd giggled and seemed not to mind. In fact, she seemed to enjoy it, wiggling and grinding her butt on him as though inviting more. The playful spanking quickly turned into a hot clench and some heaving groping. The next minute they were running up the stairs, paddle in hand, and everyone there knew they were going to continue the spanking in private.
That was the only thing of interest that night, but it had left them both fascinated and seriously turned on by the entire scene. It also stuck with them for some time after. At first they laughed it off, but then their jokes had turned speculative as they began to wonder what it would be like to be spanked, or more.
Not long after, Julie found a notice tacked to an events board for a monthly off campus munch. Held at a local restaurant, it was purported to be 'safe for curious newbies' and the perfect place to meet people, make contacts, or simply ask questions about the lifestyle. Cassie had called Julie insane, but after several weeks of arm twisting, her friend had gotten her to agree to go. At the time, still BDSM-curious, they hadn't expected much to come of it; then Colt Jameson had walked in.
Arriving late, he drew every female eye, and a few appreciative male ones too. They ate him up as he sauntered in, his tight black tee shirt stretched to the extreme across his chest and bulging biceps, and he had a military tat peeking out beneath one taut sleeve. He was a bit older, in his late twenties at most, and absolutely gorgeous, exuding more confidence than anyone Cassie had ever met—pre-Flynn, of course. Both she and Julie were practically panting over him. He introduced himself as an experienced dominant looking for a new sub. Nothing permanent, he clarified, in a refreshingly straightforward manner. He further explained that he only wanted casual because he was in for training between deployments for the Navy.
The casual was what had ended it for Cassie, and she bowed out, leaving Master Colt to her friend. Lucky for her, too, because he had zoned in immediately on Julie. They instantly clicked, Julie finding the master she hadn't known she needed, and Colt the deeply submissive woman who he could nurture, care for and love. They weren't 24/7; still, she liked a bit more control than a bedroom only sub and Colt liked to give it, so they were perfect for one another. So perfect, in fact, that they were married a year later.
Cassie's own introduction into the lifestyle hadn't been nearly as inspiring, nor had it read like an erotic romance. Interested in finding what Julie had with Colt, she'd tagged along as a third wheel, often. She attended play parties or went to some of the clubs with them. She'd explored with a few doms, here and there, but no one really excited her, or made her feel weak in the knees, the way she'd always imagined it would be.
Then she got the wild idea that she needed to immerse herself in the lifestyle, to be taught at the knee—or more accurately over it—by an experienced dominant. So the summer before grad school, she'd spent three months with an older dom—defined as forty-two to her young mind at the time—who liked to train new submissives. He wasn't looking for a lasting arrangement and they never even had sex, but she learned a lot, especially what she wanted for her submissive self, which wasn't anything casual, or just for fun. She wanted the real deal: love, marriage, a family, and she wanted her husband to also be her dominant, who took control like Colt did with Julie.
In the years that followed, despite traveling different paths, they stayed close. Julie had earned her degree in exercise science and had become a personal trainer, keeping busy with high profile clients in the LA area. She often called on her old college friend for company and support while Colt was on assignment overseas, which was often. Cassie had also finished school, turning her focus on her studies instead of her disappointing love life, and earned her masters of science in computer engineering at USC. During that time, she had pretty much withdrawn from the lifestyle altogether. Her friends hadn't given up on her, though, and when Colt came home on leave, they invited her to parties, and he introduced her to some of the doms he knew. But she never found anyone who made her heart race, or inspired her enough to entrust with her submission, until Flynn.
Even though she vowed never to settle—and anything less than the commander was definitely settling—she was facing her thirties lonely and unfulfilled, and was thinking she needed to do something. Perhaps expand her horizons and not limit herself to a long-term commitment. It hadn't worked in the past, anyhow.
Would it hurt to visit the exclusive club her friends were always raving about? It would be scary dipping her toe b
ack into a social life that she hadn't had in years, yet with no hope for her and Flynn, she needed a life outside of work. "What's involved in this membership mixer?"
Julie's brows shot up in surprise. "It's a costume event and should be a lot of fun."
Cassie sighed, her heart really not in it. "I'll think about it."
"That means no; I know you, Cass. You're not getting any younger."
"Gee, thanks. After being called barely legal a few hours ago, I don't know whether to be flattered that you think I'm old, or crushed."
"Who was this jerk? I swear, Colt will hunt him down. He considers you family and since he's home more, worries about you, like a sister."
"Please, no…" she groaned. "And what the guy said wasn't all that bad. The age jokes have always rubbed me the wrong way, that's all. Besides, he said I had a great ass. How can I be offended by that?"
"You do, honey. And that's me saying it, straight as an arrow."
She smiled half-heartedly. "I know I need to get out more and away from the base. The only people I meet now are men, and the wrong kind. Yes, they're hot, seriously built, and have all the alpha traits that make a girl's panties damp. But other than the instructors and coaches, who I have to work with, they come in through a revolving door, do their grueling training stint, then head off to the other side of the world. So I steer clear. Keeping the home fires burning is not a life I want."
"I sure am glad it isn't mine anymore," Julie agreed, understanding better than anyone could, having lived that life with Colt for almost a decade. Now, thankfully, they had a normal life with him being stationed at Coronado as a SWCC instructor for the special boat teams. It was part of the reason Cassie moved to San Diego and took her current assignment.
She frowned suddenly, thinking how Colt and Flynn were a lot alike. Maybe she should steer clear of handsome, bossy, authoritative Navy men, since they all seemed to be cut from the same cloth.
"Are there any good doms at your club? Ones who aren't military?"
"Yes, there are people from all walks of life, although quite a few are former servicemen, and some active duty. If you want to steer clear, we can have Colt point them out."
"If I agree, what do I have to do to get in? Sign a contract in blood, or give up my firstborn?"
Julie rolled her eyes in disgust. "Stop being so dramatic. There is a simple guest application and a confidentiality agreement. If you want to play, medical clearance is also required. I'll have Colt get the ball rolling."
"I haven't said yes yet!"
"You will because I'll wear you down." She laughed at Cassie's scowl. "And don't worry that we'll abandon you to the wolves your first time there, honey." She grinned with a wicked glint in her eye the next moment. "I can't promise a handsome alpha won't like your scent and demand a taste. That is something totally different and will be solely up to you."
An image of her as Red Riding Hood being stalked by a hungry, salivating, big bad wolf popped in her head. No! her rational mind screamed, but she said, "I'll give it some thought."
"Cassandra Lee!"
She reached for the silver label Cuervo and another wedge of lime. Maybe Jose could convince her to give it a try.
Chapter Three
Cassie slept in their guest room, Colt putting his foot down after finding out they had gone through two-thirds of a fifth of tequila, not to mention an entire jumbo bag of tortilla chips and a whole jar of queso. That meant she had to get up extra early—while battling a major headache—drive the thirty minutes to her apartment, shower, change, manage the commute to the island during rush hour, and still be to work on time.
That left her no room for her morning run, not that she felt like it, anyway, but she would have to squeeze it in later. Running was the only thing that kept her from blowing up like a balloon because she liked to eat. Mexican was her favorite, which was not on any low calorie diet plan anywhere, and when accompanied by at least two cocktails, often sugary margaritas, the tally was astronomical. So she forced herself to tackle at least three miles every day, taking only Sunday off if she didn't overindulge on Friday and Saturday.
After work, she changed into her running gear and drove north. Sandwiched between the island's two naval bases, Coronado Village was a quaint little town, with lovely homes and condos—most in the seven figure price range and way beyond her budget limit—boutiques, mom & pop shops, and best of all, it was on an island, which meant she had her choice of two spectacular views; the San Diego Bay to the east or the Pacific Ocean on the west with the stunning sunset to keep her company. Tonight she chose the bay side, having a taste for a chai tea latte from the Bay Front Coffee Company when she was done. She pulled into Centennial Park, right along the water, then took off, checking the time. An hour run would give her fifteen minutes before they closed.
Getting her heart rate up to a good calorie burning rate, she maintained it until her circuit took her back to the strip of waterfront shops beside the park. Slowing to a cool down, she jogged along the waterfront path until she reached the boardwalk. Up a few steps was an outdoor seating area in front of the small, but well-known coffee vendor, so popular that at 7:45 at night, there was still a line. As she got in line, she scanned the colors on the water reflecting the twilight sky and the lights of the city across the bay. It was a lovely spot and many couples were enjoying the cool night air after another unseasonably hot day.
While she waited, the tinkling sound of a woman's laughter drew her attention. She turned and found the source, a stunning raven-haired woman with a perfect dazzling white smile, was being entertained by her dark haired companion. When her eyes swept to the man, Cassie froze. Flynn was leaning in, with a smile on his handsome face as he whispered something—a joke, or something else equally amusing apparently—into her ear. It was a sweetly romantic scene, one she had pictured having with him one day, at a similar location. Instead of the lovely beauty he was with, Cassie had hoped that she would have the pleasure of his full attention.
Staring in disbelief, her sense of loss went beyond pain. It dawned on her that she had never considered he could have a girlfriend. She'd never thought to ask, always imagining herself as the woman in his arms. She took a lurching step back. As she did, he looked up and directly at her. He lifted his chin in greeting, then his hand came up and he waved her over.
Cassie deliberately misinterpreted and waved back, as if to say goodbye as she turned, chia tea latte forgotten, and hurried down the wooden walking path to her car. When she was out of sight, she picked up the pace as a second wind took hold. Spurred on by humiliation, she made it back to her car in no time, mortified that she'd so shamelessly crushed on a man who clearly only thought of her as a friend because he was into someone else. What an idiot she was.
In her car, she pulled out, while dialing Julie with one hand.
"Cassie?"
"I'll do it."
"What, hon?"
"The mixer at the club. Sign me up. I'm ready."
"Why the sudden change of heart? You sound funny. Did something happen?"
"Yeah, I opened my eyes and finally realized that silly romantic fantasies only come true in novels, and that it's time I grew up. No matter how painful being an adult can be."
* * *
The next day was Thursday, the day before her standing biweekly lunch with Flynn. She waited until midmorning to call him, when she knew he wouldn't answer because he was conducting dive training and torturing the badass SEAL wannabes somewhere off the coast. It was a coward's way of bowing out, though it worked. As expected, she got his voice mail.
"Hey, Flynn, it's me, Cassie. Sorry for the late cancellation, but I'll have to take a rain check on lunch tomorrow. I have a conference call with Gary to run through the program one last time. We want to make sure your class will be good to go on Monday. Talk to you soon."
She lied. Everything had been checked, double-checked, then run through one more time; the program was perfect. It was an excuse to avoid seeing h
im alone. From now on, she'd make sure others were around, at least until she got over her feelings for him. And she admitted now that it was love, because why else would it hurt so damn bad? She blamed herself, not him, even though all along she'd tried to deny it. But deep down, she'd hoped for something that wasn't there, and despite Flynn never having given her the words, imagined the most precious of all emotions could grow from a seed that didn't exist.
A watery image of him appeared before her eyes. She'd miss him: her lunch partner, her protector, her dear friend Flynn, but it was too painful. Maybe between now and seeing him on Monday, she would come up with a plausible excuse for why she was pulling away, although she doubted it. Never a very good liar, her parents had always known, somehow. He wouldn't be fooled either; the man was perceptive. But how did she continue a friendship, as if nothing had changed, with a man she loved so deeply that her heart was in pieces, without lying?
Chapter Four
"I can't believe you talked me into this," she complained as she tugged at her extremely short skirt for the umpteenth time in the last hour. Any shorter and it could pass for a blouse, instead of a dress. As she squirmed on the leather seat, she eyed Julie who was grinning at her from the front seat.
"Quit fidgeting, you look fantastic."
"What if someone recognizes me? I'll have to quit."
"No one will know who you are in that red wig. Or in that get up."
"What if I run into someone from the base?"
"Honey, you are a far cry from the girl genius they work with from day-to-day. Plus, the club has nearly five hundred members, for an event like tonight we'll be lucky to find each other, let alone run into someone we know." She turned to her husband for support of her claim. "Isn't that right, master?"
Quiet since they'd pick her up almost two hours ago, Colt looked at her in the rear-view mirror and agreed. "In that wig and mask, even after knowing you for ten years, I wouldn't have guessed it was you. What's more, of the five thousand personnel at Coronado, I can count on one hand how many are club members, including me. What are the odds of running into them?"
