by J. R. Gray
The bartender set the drinks down on the table, and she slipped him an extra five. It would have taken Scotty at least twice as long to have made two trips. She took a long drink before settling back on her stool. Arranging her glasses, she went to line up her paddle. It was missing.
Narrowing her eyes, she turned to Cheri who was twirling it, waiting for Scotty to say something.
“You didn’t.”
“I did, and you should have let me sooner. I spent twice what I got Blue for.”
Scotty growled.
“Don’t tell me you can’t afford it. I’ve seen your nest egg.”
Scotty’s mouth fell open. “Stop going through my mail.”
Cheri gave the paddle another twirl. “Open it more than once a month and I’ll consider it.”
Scotty banged her head into the wall behind her. “I’m never going to win, am I?”
“Probably not.”
“Can you at least tell me who you won me?”
Chapter Four
“You said you’d find out who won me.” Stark was pacing. He couldn’t see the bidder. He or she was way in the back, and the stage lights had been in his eyes.
“Will you give a guy a chance to take his makeup off?” Pinky snapped.
Stark took a hard seat. At least it was a woman. He had nothing against guys, he’d even played with a few boys, but it just wasn’t the same for him. It felt like a chore when the attraction wasn’t there. Although, it was just as likely the woman who’d won him would be equally as unattractive to him. He hated to call himself picky, but he was. This is what happened when you’d been married to the perfect person. For the rest of his life he was going to compare everyone to Maggie.
Stark scrubbed a hand over his face. “This is why I don’t wear makeup.”
“Because it takes a long time to take off?”
Stark nodded.
“Honey, it takes even longer to put on, and you need to take what they put on you off.” He held out a wipe.
“I’m not scrubbing my face with a Clorox wipe.” He was a germaphobe, but even he wouldn’t go that far.
“It’s a makeup wipe.” Pinky shoved it into his hand.
“How do I do this?”
“Put it to your face and wipe,” Pinky said with way more attitude than necessary.
“Are you hangry? I have a Snickers in my bag.” He threw back at Pinky as he faked reaching for his bag.
Pinky slapped him.
“Dick.” Stark rubbed his cheek.
“That’s Miss Dick to you, and no I’m not hangry, I’m tired of your nervous assiness.”
“Is that even a word?”
“It is now, and if you don’t zip it I’m not gonna find out who got your ass.”
Stark sighed and shut up.
A few minutes later Pinky was back to Matt, and he flipped through the winner sheets. “It looks like a Miss Abigail Scott won you. Never heard of her.”
“Seriously? I thought you knew everyone.”
“Must be a newbie.”
Stark cringed. “No, please don’t make me. I don’t want to have to play fantasy BDSM with someone who has no idea what it’s even about. Who even let someone like that in here?” Their club generally only gave admission to those who were vouched for by someone already in the club. It kept the gawkers out.
“Do you want me to pull her card?”
He put his hands together. “I’ll beg if I have to.”
“You better not tell another soul I’m doing this for you. It’s strictly against the rules.”
Stark knew it was. “I’m so lucky to be best friends with a guy with connections.”
Matt rolled his eyes, but Stark knew how much Matt liked having his ego stroked.
“Come on.” He led the way through the back of the club to the main office. He used the keys on his belt to unlock one of the file cabinets and flipped through the mass of files until he found what he was looking for. He glanced over it as Stark came up behind him to try and read over his shoulder. But the system was entirely written in a language Stark couldn’t decipher.
“Did you code the files?”
“It’s safety against prying eyes like yours. Why do you think I have access? I helped come up with it.” He flipped a page. “Cheri vouched for her. And she dated Tanya for a while. She’s actually been a key carrying member for years, she just hasn’t been here in three plus.”
“Tanya, as in…” he trailed off. There was no need to say it.
“Yeah.”
“No wonder she hasn’t been here. That bitch must have done a number on her.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Fuck.”
Chapter Five
“Don’t you want to meet him?” Cheri said as Scotty dragged her out the door.
“No, I’m not even sure I want to go through with this.” She’d paid, but who said she actually had to use the guy? It was a charity thing. “They have their money.”
Cheri gave her a sidelong look. “I grabbed his email since you accidentally on purpose left it on the table.”
“Noticed that, did you?”
She rolled her eyes. “Think about it at least. There is no expiration on this thing?”
They’d made up certificates of ownership for one night for the Dominants who’d won submissives, and certificates of one night of submission to those who’d won Dominants in the auction. She had to admit it was a clever charity idea.
“You know this is the best way to get into the swing of things again. No sex required. You can see if you can even do it with someone else. And what’s the worst that could happen? You safe out and the night is over, and you never have to see him again.”
“That’s nowhere near the worst that could happen.”
Cheri stopped. They were only half a block from their place. Scotty tried to urge her forward, but Cheri wasn’t moving.
“Come on.”
“What’s the worst thing that could happen?”
“It was just a joke.”
“There is a seed of truth behind most jokes.” There was no way Cheri would let this go until she answered. She was like a dog with a damn bone.
“The worst thing would be if I got attached. I can’t go through any of that again.” The words tasted like soot as they left her mouth, but that’s where she was at. It hadn’t been a joke at all.
“It’s called a rebound. No one will be falling for anyone.” She dragged Scotty by the arm toward their apartment. “You need to work on not being so serious. Let your hair down and have a little fun.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Let’s forget about him for the night and go eat Ben and Jerry’s and watch porn.”
* * * *
Scotty spent Christmas hibernating. The next day she crawled out of her pillow fort to check emails. As only a third-year at her firm it was her job to deal with client meltdowns. She’d avoided it on Christmas because it was straight depressing, but she couldn’t hide from her inbox any longer. With a massive cup of coffee, she sat down to skim the nine hundred and eleven emails that had flown back and forth over the last thirty-six hours. Most of them were taken care of or above her pay grade. She was CCed for billing purposes, or in case they pulled her for grunt work.
She replied to the emails she needed, and it only took two hours. Not too bad. As standard practice for her firm, she’d bill each client email as half an hour, and that brought her up to twenty billable hours. She should double it since it was a holiday, but she was feeling nice. Not everyone needed to have a shit holiday like she was having. Not too bad for a couple hours’ work. Now she could take the rest of the day for herself as long as she kept an eye on her email. She was about to shut her email when a new one popped up at the top of her feed.
It wasn’t from an address she recognized. There wasn’t a subject line, and the message was only one line.
You ran out so fast the other night I didn’t get to introduce myself. ~Stark
&
nbsp; It clicked. It must be the guy Cheri bid on. Shit. She hit reply, but she wasn’t sure how much to say. She didn’t want to hurt the guy’s feelings, but she was also sure she wasn’t ever going to use his service.
I wasn’t aware meeting was part of the process.
She decided flirty was her best bet. At least until she was sure about what she wanted to do. He replied right away. He must have been sitting at his computer.
It wasn’t, but it would have been nice to put a face to the name, Abi. Can I call you Abi? ~ Stark
She cringed. No one called her Abi except her mother, and even her father called her Scotty. She guessed it was easier for her father to distance himself from his queer daughter by changing the name in his head. Not that they spoke often.
Not Abi. Scotty, please.
Scotty? Interesting. Not many women go by their last name. ~Stark
I’m not most women, and it’s a work thing. ~Scotty
What do you do? ~Stark
He wasn’t shy about soliciting information.
I’m a lawyer at Stratton and West. ~Scotty
It was common knowledge around the club. It wouldn’t ever hurt her job, so she didn’t mind sharing. Not like some of the people who frequented.
Wow, impressive. You must have been top of your class. ~Stark
Scotty sat back, smiling to herself. It was nice to have an adult conversation with someone who didn’t already know her better than she knew herself, like Cheri sometimes did. Maybe she could gain a friend out of this mess, and they could put the buying a Dom thing behind them.
I did okay for myself. ~Scotty
Chapter Six
Stark was glad he hadn’t met Scotty at the club. It was easier to be himself through email, if that made any sense.
“What’s she saying?” Matt asked again.
Stark held out his laptop, and Matt happily took it.
“Now I want to know what she looks like.”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because I’m secretly hoping she’s smoking hot, and that you’ll fall in love with her, and then I can tell everyone I am responsible.”
“I’m not even surprised. I probably should be, but I’ve known you too fucking long.”
Matt didn’t reply. He was too busy typing away on the keyboard.
“What are you doing?” He tried to grab it back.
“Calm down. And they say gay men are drama. Look yourself.” Matt pulled the laptop out of reach but turned it around so Stark could see what he was doing. “I’m Googling her. She has a picture with her profile. Oh, and a Facebook page and an Instagram. Jackpot.”
“You’re being a little creepy.”
“Whatever, when it’s for an expert witness case you do ‘research.’ You could probably have her entire life’s story if you put five minutes into a search. So I’m doing what I can.”
“I don’t stalk girls before I date them. You know when I met Maggie none of that shit existed.”
“Fine, yes, people dated in the stone age, doesn’t mean we can’t use what’s available to us now.”
Stark let him flip through. “It doesn’t matter what she looks like. It’s one and done. Like every other time I have an itch.”
“Can you take off your self-administered chastity belt? Some vagina might relax you a bit.”
“I was like this before.”
Matt looked at him over the top of the laptop screen. “You used to, you know, go outside occasionally. Frequent the club. Have a personality.”
“I have a personality.”
“Barely. Soon you’ll have forty-seven cats, and like I said, one day I’ll find one of them eating your dead body.”
“I told you, I’m sticking to two cats.”
“They all say that, but you’re getting up there in age and getting lonely.” Matt was in a mood, and Stark started wondering if he could make up an excuse to get rid of him.
“I’m only forty-two, and I’m not lonely. I have plenty of friends.”
“Being a shut in makes you die at a young age.”
“There is no scientific basis for that.”
“Which one of us is the doctor?” Matt went back to clicking.
“I have a medical degree!”
Another sarcastic look from Matt. “Hardly. You’re a psychiatrist.”
“You made that up. And I get out of the house every day. I walk downstairs for takeout. We’ve been over this.”
Matt just gave him another sassy look.
“Did you find anything interesting?”
“I thought you didn’t want to quote-end-quote stalk her.”
Stark held out his hand for his laptop. “Get out.”
“Call me when you’ve decided I’m a genius.” He stood and put the laptop in Stark’s hands. “And I sent her another email.” Matt had closed out all his stalking, and being the smart guy he was got out the door before Stark could find something to throw at him.
We should have dinner to discuss what you’re looking for in your session. ~Stark
Chapter Seven
It didn’t sound like any of his other emails. The tone was—different—Scotty almost believed he hadn’t written it.
I’m so sorry. My friend sent that email. I mean, it’s probably better if we meet beforehand to discuss things, but it doesn’t have to be anything date like. ~Stark
She giggled. There was nothing Scotty loved more than being right. Her English major was good for something all these years later.
Dinner sounds good. ~Scotty
She replied. Dinner did sound fun. She was enjoying the exchange with him even if she’d never admit it to Cheri. They could chat about it and laugh. Then he would feel no obligation to anything, and they could be friends.
Oh, okay. Are you sure? I don’t want to put you on the spot. ~Stark
I’m sure. Where should we go? ~ Scotty
Er… Well, I’m not big on going out. There is a place close to my apartment. ~Stark
What does not big on going out mean? ~Scotty
It means I prefer to eat in. ~ Stark
He wasn’t giving an inch on her questions. Was that a red flag? She could hardly tell anymore. Not after thinking Tanya was so perfect.
When should we do this thing? ~Scotty
I work from home, so anytime really. ~Stark
He was too easygoing about this. Too willing to let her make the decisions. She found it almost hard to believe he was the Dominant so she decided to turn the situation even more on its head.
I’m ‘off’ until after New Year’s. Want to do it tonight? ~Scotty
Five minutes passed before a new email appeared. She expected a rejection, which she was fine with.
Sure. ~ Stark
Damn, he wasn’t fulfilling any of her expectations, and usually she was quite good at reading people. He sent her an address.
At eight? ~Stark
I’ll see you then. ~Scotty
Chapter Eight
Stark was early, well, because he was always early. His father had always said early is on time, on time is late, and late is fired. His father had stuck to such a rigorous routine, he walked out of the house within minutes of the same time and took the same train every day. The guy was seventy-three and still worked his ass off. Strangely enough, at the same firm Scotty did. Small world.
He checked his watch again. It was two to eight, and he was starting to wonder if he’d been stood up. He wouldn’t have done this had this not been for charity, and he figured it would somehow get back to and reflect badly on Matt if he screwed it up. Really, who didn’t show up early to scope out the scene for a blind date of sorts?
At eight, he gave up all hope of getting to see who actually bid on him. He was good looking enough, but he was on the older side for a Dominant, and well, the twenty somethings only cared about other young people. It was one of the reasons he’d stopped trying to date after Maggie. He’d been pushing forty by the time he was ready, and of course the pool of
prospects was rather dismal.
At eight-fifteen he flagged down the waiter and asked for his check. His beer sat half drunk and warm at this point. He stood to pull out his wallet when a dark haired young lady stopped in front of his table.
“Are you waiting for me?” she asked in the most seductive voice he’d ever heard.
He had to sit back down to keep himself from stammering. “Scotty?” was all he could manage.
“Yes, Stark, right?”
She slid into the booth across from him like it was home. There wasn’t anything shy about her, which in a submissive was golden. Nothing like a girl who had no shame about walking through a club in only her collar. He was half hard and getting ahead of himself. He needed to focus on something other than what she’d look like naked.
“Yes, I use my last name as well.” He clutched for the beer and brought it to his lips, like the meager amount of alcohol would save him from making an ass out of himself in front of her.
“Stark it is.” She picked up her menu, but didn’t look away from him.
He almost wanted her to so he could breathe. Damn it. Now he really wished he’d gotten a look at her the other night. He might not have been so taken aback if he had. He was going to fucking murder Matt.
“Sorry I’m a little late. Stupid trains never run on time.”
“I could have sent a car.” He could have kicked himself for not having thought of it sooner.
“No need. I like taking the subway.”
