“‘Because just like privacy and trust,’” read Amie, “‘education is of vital importance to the kink community.’ Holy shit.”
“Gavin went and talked to the owner personally last night. I have no idea what he offered him. Maybe he pointed out that if Chris did this to one club he might do it to another. That a united front was the best way to stop him.”
“Maybe. Wow.” Amie laced an arm through hers. “I hope he doesn’t try to retaliate at Onyx.”
“Nope.” Dru flipped back to Gavin’s lengthy email. “They showed the texts and everything to some other folks at Onyx last night and apparently Master Cool was awakened by police this morning with a search warrant. They have his computer. All the evidence was there. Took them five minutes to find enough to charge him. The files weren’t even password protected.”
“A search warrant? That quickly? Who the hell did Gavin talk to at . . . Oh.”
Judges weren’t supposed to be involved in anything unsavory in their private time. But at least one was known to visit Onyx occasionally, and had recently become a member at Escape. Dru suspected Amie knew exactly who Gavin had talked to, and had probably provided the honorable lady services at some point in the form of hearty beatings. Possibly orgasms. “Privacy and trust. And some folks who really, really don’t want their personal information leaked as being connected to Escape or Onyx.”
“The names could come out in a trial.”
“Yeah, but not if he pleads guilty. If he’s smart, he’ll take some sort of deal. It’s like a three-thousand-dollar fine, but he could also go to jail for a few years. He was caught basically red-handed.” And Onyx, the wonderful people there, were coming to the support of their biggest competition. Gavin said this was more practical than altruistic; since the first two rounds of classes, Onyx had also seen a slight uptick in business. They’d actually proposed making the classes a joint venture, perhaps rotating the locations.
All that was a question for another day, though. Right now, Amie was about to be late for work. And Dru had to go take the “closed until further notice” sign off Escape’s front door.
An overnight return to full attendance and standing room only at extra sessions would have been the best possible outcome. Amie had pictured that, she was embarrassed to admit, when she first saw Gavin’s email and the notice of support from Onyx. She’d had to adjust her expectations downward quite a bit.
Instead, members came back slowly at first, a few at a time. Sheepish, some still wary. Not everybody got back into playing right away; for the first few weeks after the news of Chris’s arrest, even though Escape was only identified as a “local private club,” a lot of members seemed more inclined to use the club as a meeting place. They came, drank until ten, settled for juice and soda after that, and talked about their fears. About security and the lack of it. Most of them started playing after another month or so had passed. A few never came back, and Amie was sad to see them go. She was equally sad every time an old member canceled their membership, which was still happening from time to time.
Amie fed the last page from the most recent cancellation’s membership folder into the shredder in Dru’s office, sighing and frowning as the paper disappeared between the blades. “What’ll they do? Just hope to find some stray kink-friendly date out in the wild?”
Dru wasn’t paying attention to her. She had her face in a spreadsheet, as she so often did lately. Understandably. “I ’unno,” she replied noncommittally when the pause went on long enough for her to notice it.
Amie ripped the label from the folder and shredded that, too, then dropped the empty file on a shelf and leaned around the office door, listening to the babble in the main room. Their session didn’t start for another five minutes, but she would have liked to be out there already. Warming up. Making sure everybody had the right materials. None of that cheap, stiff leather crap that would scrape the skin at the wrong time or fall apart the first time it hit a sub’s back.
It sounded like people were still clustered by the bar, talking and getting coffee. The first session, the beginner’s flogging demo, had gone well. Amie had her fingers crossed about the practical workshop to follow.
She leaned back in, studying Dru’s face in the bluish monitor glow. “Babycakes? You about done here?”
Dru shot her the look. Over the top of the reading glasses she’d started having to wear whenever she worked at the computer. She hated them. Amie adored them. Nobody did sexy librarian like Dru, and she was dressed the part tonight. It would be only slightly less fun than it would have been to flog her naked. “Do you want to know if we broke even last week or not?”
Amie sighed. “‘We’?”
“Fine, me.”
Amie had liked the sound of “we.” Which continued to surprise her. As did nearly everything about their relationship. How happy she was most of the time now. How easy it could be to make Dru laugh. How awesome it was to never have to watch a movie alone. How lucky she was to have gotten to this point, when it could have easily gone so wrong at so many stages. “I’m interested.”
Dru left her in suspense a few seconds longer, then grinned and gave her two thumbs-up. “Better than break-even. Profit!”
“Oh my God! Really?”
“Yeah, like enough to buy a value meal or something, but actual profit. Third month in a row.”
Amie whooped, and swept Dru into a hug as she came out from behind the desk. Then kissed her, ignoring her stifled protest about lipstick.
“You made a mess of me,” Dru complained when Amie finally let go. Dru snagged a tissue from her desk and went straight to the mirror by the door, attempting to wipe off the smears before they had to make an appearance.
“You’re beautiful,” Amie insisted.
Dru turned around, tissue still in hand, and frowned at Amie’s mouth. “So are you. But I made a mess of you too.”
Amie grinned. “Druse, you know I was a mess before you ever got here. You’ve made me so much tidier.”
Dru smiled and traced the smudged edge of Amie’s lip with the tissue. “Well. I guess you’re lucky I came back when I did, then.” She stepped back, appraising. “You’ll do. Ready?”
“Okay!”
Laughing, they joined hands and walked to the corner dais of the main room, where Adam introduced them to a hearty round of applause.
All the sessions were seeing a good turnout these days. But none were as popular as Mistress Amie and Dru’s Very Hands-On Workshops.
Dru sipped her wine, wondering if it was time to fill the second glass yet. The merlot was already well aerated, and room temperature, but she didn’t want Amie to think she’d been sitting around waiting impatiently. Even if she had.
Two plates were warming on the stove; with the oven on below, it was hot enough to keep them the perfect temperature. Lean, rare, grass-fed steak. Steamed asparagus. A few new potatoes with herbs and a touch of olive oil. When it was Amie’s night to choose, dinner was always much healthier. Dru would have gone for pizza, but she appreciated the balance.
Finally the door opened, letting in a quick sweep of rain along with Amie. “Fuck, it’s getting horrible out there.”
Jumping up, Dru took the sopping raincoat and whisked it away to the laundry room before coming back to give Amie a hug and kiss. “Good client?”
“Determined client. I was damn impressed she made it in this weather. And the new trainer seems to be working out pretty well.”
Drake, the backup bouncer, had really needed a day job to make ends meet. And when Amie had found out he was almost done with his personal-trainer certification, it had seemed an obvious solution for everyone.
Except for one small hitch. “I still can’t believe his real first name is Jethro,” she said, as she did every day after working with him.
“You’ll get there eventually.” Dru gave her another kiss, lingering this time. To help her lips warm up. Amie seemed more concerned about her hands, sliding them first over Dru’s denim-clad
ass, then up and under the back of her sweater. “Holy shit, arrghh, icicles!”
Dru tried to jump away from the chilly digits, but Amie held her tight.
“This is perfect,” she insisted, smiling calmly until Dru gave in and stopped struggling. “Ah, nice and warm.”
“So is dinner, but it’s gonna dry out if we don’t eat soon.”
Amie snuck a final kiss and a slap to Dru’s haunch before slipping out of her wet shoes and making for the bedroom. She was back in under two minutes, dressed in a long T-shirt. “Okay, ready.”
She snagged the throw and covered up her legs as she sat on the couch. Poured herself some wine, then gratefully accepted the plate from Dru as she joined her. She looked perfect, there on the couch, fork in hand. She looked at home.
She looked . . . like home.
Dru worked a corner of the throw free to cover her knees, then slid the remote—and the other remote for the cable, and the third remote for the media box—over to Amie.
Amie accepted all three with raised eyebrows, then started punching buttons. “Aren’t you even going to ask what movie I picked?”
“Nah.” Dru shrugged and cut a slice of meat, spearing it on her fork and gesturing with it before bringing it toward her lips. “Whatever you want to watch. I trust you. Surprise me.”
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Thanks to my friend and partner in crime, Christine d’Abo, for agreeing to repurpose two of our orphaned books to kick off a new series together . . . and thanks to Sarah Lyons and everyone at Riptide for giving that series a home! Thanks to my fabulous editor, May Peterson, for wrangling this thing into the shape of an actual story rather than the amorphous text-blob I originally sent her. Very special thanks with extra hugs and kisses and love bites to Elisabeth Blackwell, my lesbian sex muse.
Escape Universe
The Unicorn
Science of Temptation Series
The Theory of Attraction
The Seduction Hypothesis
The Principle of Desire
Tropical Trysts Series
Mai Tai for Two
Sex on the Beach
Truth & Lies Series
How to Tell a Lie
Art of the Lie
Naked Truth
Tangled Truth
Tell Me No Lies
Steam and Seduction Series
Gossamer Wing
Scarlet Devices
Gilded Lily
Giddyup Series
Ride ’em
Standalone
Intermezzo
The Lamplighter’s Love
Love With a Chance of Zombies
Snow Job
Toy Box
When in Rio
Xmas Spark
Anthologies
Girls Who Bite
Agony/Ecstasy
Winter Rain
How We Began
Delphine probably should’ve gone ahead and gotten that MFA and PhD to become an English professor like she’d originally planned. Instead she took a detour through law school, worked in special education for about fifteen years, then finally wound up working as a writer and editor and using neither of her fancy graduate degrees.
Del now writes contemporary and erotic romance, steampunk romance, and the occasional piece of zombie or dinosaur-based fiction. When not writing or editing, she can usually be found binge-watching Netflix or dragging her kids to museums.
Website: www.delphinedryden.com
Twitter: @deldryden
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