by Lynn Galli
“I can’t believe she said that she doesn’t do women with kids, though.” Caroline frowned at Isabel. Years of friendship allowed them to communicate without words.
“I should’ve guessed something would be off about her when Kayin suggested her.” Isabel took a huge bite of her hamburger and wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin.
“Wait, she wasn’t even your friend?” My hand dropped to the table from the perch it provided my chin. “I thought these were your friends. You told me these were your friends.”
“She is a friend, well, I’m friendly with her.” Caroline didn’t bother to look guilty. “Besides, the purpose is to set you up with dates. We can’t possibly know everything about them. Rachel’s gorgeous, nice, successful; we thought she’d be a great match.”
“How do you know she’s successful?” Suspicion leaked into my tone.
“Kayin’s her CPA,” Isabel reported.
I let out a burst of laughter. “I’m not sure you’re supposed to be sharing that kind of information, Isa. Kayin might get upset.”
“Upset about what?” Kayin appeared at our table with Sam in tow.
Originally, it was supposed to have been Caroline and me on this shopping trip. Then Isabel got invited because she was Caroline’s best friend and they never went shopping without each other. Later it snowballed into having their partners along. Not only did I prefer smaller groups, but once again, I found myself as the fifth wheel. Something I’d never minded with my friends in Vermont after Megan had died now became uncomfortable with this group. They seemed to think I wasn’t a complete person unless I had someone in my life.
“I told Bri that Rachel is successful.”
“She is,” Kayin confirmed, shattering my view of acceptable client confidentiality. Although, Rachel had done it herself when she’d listed several well known clients that her advertising agency handled.
“Did you know that she has a problem with kids?” I asked.
“What kind of problem?” Kayin’s dark brow furrowed.
“She ditched me at dinner as soon as she found out about Caleb. And I mean ditched, as in, she got up from the table and left the second I mentioned him.”
“Jesus!” Sam swore softly. She was a quiet woman, more action than words, but her soft southern accent was a surprise to hear coming from such a solid frame. Practical and to the point was her motto. Even when it was just her and Caroline at my house or theirs, she didn’t talk a whole lot. Of course, Caroline talked enough for the both of them.
“Bitch,” Kayin hissed. “Sorry about that, Bri. We’ll make sure the next one isn’t such a bitch.”
“Yeah, about that,” I cut in, “no more next ones. I can get my own dates.”
“Oh, come on. Between the ten of us, we know everyone in this town. You never go out to the bar with us, so how are you going to know who are the available lesbians in town? You’ll like the next one, I promise.” Caroline tilted her head and batted her eyes at me.
“I haven’t liked the three you’ve shoved down my throat so far.”
“Bri,” Isabel started in a suffering tone. “You want to be with someone, you have to date. Not everyone is going to be Jessie.”
“Whoa!” I brought a hand up. This idea of theirs that I was hung up on Jessie was getting tiring. “I’m not looking for anyone to be Jessie. That’s not my measurement. Let’s be clear on that.
And I’m not looking for someone to be Megan either because I know that’s impossible.” I made sure to make eye contact with each of them, but I wasn’t sure if they believed me. “I knew dating wouldn’t be easy. Not even with Jessie. She was wonderful, but we never would have worked out.”
“Obviously. She was the biggest sl—”
“Kayin!” I cringed, barely stopping the epithet before she finished.
“What? I’m just saying.” Her hands flipped off the table in a careless fashion. “You’re a sweet, sophisticated woman. We all thought Jessie was way out of her league with you.” This wasn’t the first time Kayin’s bluntness had rubbed me the wrong way. I was starting to pick up that it did the same for Isabel, which would account for some of the strain I sensed between them. At least Des wasn’t here. I could only imagine what she’d have to say about Jessie and my non relationship.
“That’s an unkind thing to say about one of your best friends,” I scolded. “Not to mention how insulting it is to Lauren.”
“Hey, I’m not saying she hasn’t changed, but when she started dating you, she was still the same old date-and-ditch Jessie.” I blew out a frustrated breath. “You guys really don’t know her at all, do you?”
“Don’t get upset, Bri.” Caroline squeezed my forearm.
“I can’t help it. My friends, and I do appreciate that you’re my friends, are talking about another friend in a way that I wouldn’t let anyone talk about one of my friends.” They all shifted restlessly in their chairs, remorseful glances bouncing about. “You’re right.” Sam was the first to speak up.
“We know that Jessie’s changed, but you weren’t living here when she was the way we’ve mostly known her.”
“Okay, I can accept that, but you need to accept that she was never anything but decent to me. She wasn’t the woman that I’ve heard described by you or anyone else. And she didn’t dump me.
I wasn’t over Megan, and Jessie was smart enough to see that. Oh, and she never had a problem with the fact that I had a child.” In fact, Jessie and Caleb got on so well now that Lauren and I were often forgotten whenever we all got together. “Not exactly a winning trait of Rachel’s.”
“That does suck,” Isabel agreed.
“Vicki’s not like that. She’s got two of her own. You’ll like her,” Caroline said.
They had another all lined up? Was Caroline a madam on the side? “No more setups, please.”
“You had one bad experience, but Vicki’s great. She brings her kids into the café all the time. They’re a cute bunch. I just know you’ll hit if off.” Caroline squeezed my arm again, pleading in her eyes.
I so wanted to say no, but dating seemed like a healthy step for me. Certainly better than what I’d been doing for the past three plus years. How could one more date hurt?
Chapter 16
Nothing about this was enjoyable or satisfying. It didn’t matter how often she had to remind herself that she should be getting something pleasurable from it. That any person who liked this kind of thing would be having fun.
“That was fantastic, baby,” the naked woman bound in a human X against the velvet wall complimented. Her back was slick with sweat, making the black skin glisten. Tremors still rolled along her spine. Her mouth had begged for rough but screamed frantically with the softest touch of the feathers used. “If you let me loose, I guarantee I can make you come in thirty seconds.” No, you can’t, she thought. It bothered her that she’d come back to the club so soon after her last visit. Two times a year, three max, was all she’d ever allowed since she began visiting this club three years ago. But something in recent events, maybe someone, made her get suited up and drive into the city, thinking that being here might bring back her equilibrium. “Not interested.”
“Stone, huh? That’s just fine, baby. You can tie me up any time.” The woman twisted in an effort to establish eye contact.
Her white elaborately tasseled mask was slightly askew from the thrashing of her head while she’d been “tortured” with the feathers. “Gimme a kiss.”
“No.”
“You can’t not, baby, not after that fucking. My body’s going to ache tomorrow. A kiss would make it all better.” The woman managed to rotate her hips against the wall so she was half turned while still bound.
“No.” And they hadn’t fucked. Touch, sharing, reciprocation, none of that had occurred, and most especially not tenderness nor intimacy. She couldn’t image fucking this woman or any person this way.
“Really stone, that’s rarely fun, but you made an impression.
&n
bsp; I’ll let you slide for tonight.” Brown-black eyes tracked her movement as she set the feather flick aside and advanced toward her to release a wrist. When the hand came out of the shackle, it shot forward to grasp the back of her neck.
“Don’t touch,” she warned, jerking out of reach.
The smug look dropped the woman’s attractiveness down several notches. “Can’t blame me for trying.” Yes, she could. “Goodbye.”
“Wait! Let me out of these things.” Her eyes blazed in alarm.
“Your hand is free; use it.” She stayed just long enough for the miffed woman to turn back to the wall and easily reach up to release her other wrist. It would take another couple of minutes for her to release her ankles and get her leather skirt and bra back on. Enough time to clear out without the woman trying to touch her again.
Tonight she headed straight for the exit from the back rooms.
She didn’t want to go back through the club, didn’t want to see how all the other patrons seemed to be enjoying themselves. Have their arousal, lust, and ecstasy scorch a brand of abnormal on her.
This wasn’t working. It never had. She didn’t care what the advice had been to help her past this hurdle. She couldn’t keep convincing herself that the next time might be the one to make her normal.
In the dark alley, she found it hard to breathe through her anxiety with the pungent stench. She strode quickly toward the side street where she’d parked her car. Busy beating herself up for going to the club, she didn’t feel the usual energy shift she always got when someone snuck up on her.
“You’re mine now, kitten.” The man who’d propositioned her last time declared from the darkness behind her. Before she could feint left out of the reach of what she guessed was a right handed man, he’d grabbed her forearm and spun her against him.
“You’re going to beg me to fuck you.”
“No.” She used the same even tone she’d used before despite the spurt of fear and revulsion at being squashed against his tall, muscular form. “Let go.”
“You’ll like having someone take control.” His hands moved up her leather clad arms toward the bare skin at her shoulders.
“Wrong. I’m not the type. Do you hear me?” she told him flatly. Protesting vehemently or showing any emotion usually made Doms like him think a woman was playing the role of the reluctant sub.
“You’ll change your mind,” he insisted. “Surrender to me.”
“No. Hands off.” Her pulse pounded in the wake his hands left on the material of her long gloves. When his fingers infringed on her bare skin, she felt scalding pain race through her arms and into her shoulders. Instantly, she retreated to that safe place she’d created for herself so long ago. She hadn’t known it still existed inside her. She’d nearly forgotten about the glorious blend of colors and how they’d whip past her in a blur as she ran and ran, thinking there had to be a place where things like this didn’t happen to girls and women. Where pain wasn’t an everyday feeling. Where someone might touch her with care again.
It would be so easy to stay in this beautiful dream state, completely disconnected from reality, but she wasn’t that person anymore. Forcing herself to focus on the burn of her skin where he touched her, she snapped back to attention. Her arms moved straight up against her chest before she ripped them apart, throwing his off. Following the fall of his hands, she grabbed one and twisted it around until he was forced to turn and kneel on the ground. A standard martial arts move meant to incapacitate within three seconds ended with his arm now painfully braced up against the middle of his back.
“Argh, fuck! Let up!” his yell turned into a strangled scream of pain.
“Why should I listen to you when you didn’t listen to me?
Your control is gone. How much do you like it?” Her heart pounded explosively in her chest. Nervous sweat broke out everywhere. She could break several bones in his arm and hand easily. She wanted to break them all. That realization scared her more than anything he could have done to her. She didn’t like losing the grip on her control. Nothing good ever came from her losing it. “Don’t ever assume that taking someone’s control is a good thing.”
“I get it, bitch, okay?” His tiresome posturing only served to make her want to hurt him more.
“No, I don’t think you do. This club is for people who like to control and or be controlled. When someone tells you she is in control, you will listen to her. It’s about consent. If you ever touch me or another woman against her wishes again, I will snap both of your thumbs. Tell me you understand.” She twisted his thumb against the socket in demonstration.
“Yeah, I get it!” he wailed. That maneuver always reduced the biggest of men to tears.
Shoving with all her might, she watched as he toppled forward, barely getting his free arm down to break the fall. Like a shot, he came up from his knees, hand cocked back in fury. But she was quicker. She now gripped a collapsible baton against her thigh. His eyes grew wide at the sight of the police issue weapon that she always kept in a hidden pocket against her calf. Those eyes should be worried; she’d had to take a certification class to carry it. This wasn’t the first time she’d brandished it, but it might be the first time she used it on someone. “You don’t want me to lose control. Next time I see you, I will.” He weighed her resolve, watching her fingers re-grip the baton. “Too bad, kitten. You would have liked what I was going to do to you.” He walked backward until he was out of the radius of the baton swing. Only then did he turn and fearlessly saunter to the back entrance of the club.
Breathe in, hold four seconds, breath out. Again. And again. She tried to focus on the spot where he’d touched her shoulders because it still burned. The ache was the only tangible evidence that she was still in control. Without the pain, she knew she would have followed him to show what losing control for someone like her meant to his overall health.
Chapter 17
As I walked into Gilmer Hall for a colleague’s retirement party, I wondered if I’d still be a professor after forty years.
Thirteen often seemed like it was enough, but then I’d have a class like the one this summer, and I’d get reenergized.
“Hey, Bri.” Alexa stood with some colleagues beside the overflowing buffet. “We’ve decided we’re jealous of the psych department. Their food is so much better than ours.”
“Not a bottled cheese spread in sight, pretty fancy,” I agreed, tongue in cheek. “Looks like the entire staff at the university is here.”
“Just about.” The comment came from our best accounting professor, Olivia. “Trying to get an audience with Dr. Jackson is nearly impossible, too.”
“I’ll say,” Paula, a finance professor, seconded.
“Yeah, I’m glad we got here early,” added Fred, better known as Flick Fred because of his penchant for showing films to make his educational point.
While I was contemplating heading over, I caught sight of M slicing through the crowd, invisibility cloak intact. Her petite stature allowed her to squeeze through partygoers seemingly without notice. She approached Dr. Jackson slowly, looking reluctant to join them but had a warm smile for the retiree. What irked me the most was that within thirty seconds, every other person in the group had stepped away. It was possible that they’d all been monopolizing Dr. Jackson’s time, but that seemed unlikely.
“How’s it going with her?” Olivia asked.
“Yeah, heard you pulled the low card on that.” Paula commented.
“Especially since you’re stuck with anti-social woman. Is she as freaky in class as she is around the faculty offices?” Fred jabbed his elbow into Paula’s side.
Flash anger started somewhere in my belly and pulsed out to my extremities. “Stop it! She’s an amazing teacher and a wonderful person.”
“Jeez, sorry, but you don’t have an office beside her. I have to deal with her cold shoulder all the time.” Fred stepped closer to Paula.
“Have you ever tried to get to know her?” I pressed.
“Does she slam the door in your faces?”
“Well, no.”
“Does she tell you to get out of her office or she’ll call security?”
“Of course not.”
“So, your problem is that she actually uses her office for office hours with students and doesn’t gossip with you or listen to your rants about the way the department is run?” I purposely picked the worst of Fred’s traits. It was mean, I’ll own that, but after insulting M like that, I thought he deserved it.
“I don’t rant, and everyone but her socializes on our floor. It’s just weird.”
“Well, she’s never been anything but nice to me.” They shifted uneasily at the finality in my tone.
“We’re glad it’s working out, aren’t we?” Alexa insisted and received reluctant nods from the other three. “Why don’t I walk you over to chat with Dr. Jackson?” She grabbed my elbow to get us moving. “Yeah, that wasn’t awkward at all.” I let go of an amused snort, appreciating Alexa’s sarcasm. “I’m getting a little tired of these petty games. This isn’t what I signed on for here, and I certainly don’t need it during a summer session that I was volunteered for.”
Alexa turned to me, stopping our progress. “I know what vicious, snipey children they can be, but you don’t usually concern yourself with department politics. Is something bothering you? Are you missing Caleb?”
“Sorry, I really didn’t mean to come off as a royal bitch. This whole summer isn’t what I’d thought it would be. I guess it’s affecting me more than I thought. Please, stay my friend? I couldn’t survive this place without you.” She beamed and pulled me in for a brief hug. “I’ll stay true, hon, don’t you worry. It was kinda fun to hear you tell Fred off. I’ve been wanting to for years.”
