Page 3 of His Keepsake

“Okay,” she whispered, nodding.

Sometimes I wondered how far Charity would go if I pushed her to try this.

Plans were made for falling apart. What if this was addictive?

I wasn’t really watching where I was going as I ambled to the counter.

I’d tried all sorts of things at the club. Getting flogged and paddled by random strangers was cardboard to me. It wasn’t simply the sensation of pain or the feelings one gains from bondage that worked for me. My fantasies had always called to me, and yes, they were potentially dangerous ones.

I’d tried Doms, I’d talked my face off about limits. I’d even roleplayed a few times. Schoolgirl outfits? Kitten? Burglar balaclavas while he pretended to force me? No. Hell no. Keeping a straight face had been impossible, especially after I kneed one guy in the balls by accident. Rolling around on the floor laughing tended to piss off dominants.

I tried kinky dating sites, at least tried them as far as I was happy with. Some things seemed unsafe even to me. Who was at the other end of the web? Charity’s friend seemed to check all the boxes without being too safe and bland. I didn’t know him, and yet I trusted Charity not to hook me up with a serial killer.

A noise made me look around. The door closed silently behind a man exiting the café. He walked to the right, brooding, silent…broad-shouldered under that coat.

When had he come in? I’d never even noticed him.

I couldn’t help but imagine him as my semi-anonymous kidnapper, pouncing on me, tying me up, then working his fingers inside me while I wriggled about and pretended to get away, lying helpless in the trunk of his car.

I pulled myself back to reality.

“What would you like, ma’am?” the barista asked.

“Coffee, please. Black, one cream, one sugar, thanks.”

“Sure. I’ll bring it to you.”

After paying, I returned to our table, and somewhere on the way I decided I wasn’t letting Charity follow me.

Once in a lifetime, a person should risk it all to follow their dreams. Even when those dreams were probably a terrible idea.

Charity following me out would make this fantasy turn to dust.

I needed that edge.

“Who was that?” As I slipped onto the seat, I thumbed toward the window.

“Mister tall, dark and mysterious? He was in the booth behind you. If he overheard us, you probably freaked him out, or gave him his next jerk-off fantasy.” She pretended to give her finger a sloppy BJ.

I suppressed a snort. “You’ll get pregnant from that.”

Truthfully, I was a little horrified. Working where I did, I was forever teetering on a tightrope. On one side was me being pure and innocent to any average person I met, while on the other side lay the bad-girl me, who had impure thoughts. Bad girl was ready to crawl naked across the floor and lick up some guy’s come from a dish if ordered to. It made for an exhilarating, yet anxious existence.

I thought this was my fantasy, but I knew from experimentation that nothing was ever certain with kink. Whether I got off on this depended on it being the right man, the right day, the right everything.

Even so, being told I was a dirty slut should be on my astrological prediction for the day. Unless this guy was a polite Dom? I’d met those. I hoped he wasn’t, but then again, he might have any fetish under the sun.

He’d better have some.

Fuck.

I touched my grandmother’s necklace. The small golden bird was my good luck charm.

“You never said exactly what this friend of yours likes to do to his subs.”

“Secret.” Charity clamped her mouth shut and slowly shook her head.

I eyerolled. “Writing you out of my will then.”

“Too late,” She stuck out her tongue. “Waaaay too late for that, girl.”

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