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Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “Deep enough to drown me. Chipping away at it seems to make it angrier.” She rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t poking the bear.”
“Bring me the list, and we’ll stop the interest spiral. You can pay me back.”
His hand shot up in protest before she could argue with him.
“There’s no arguing.”
Melody pressed her lips together and finally looked at Wes.
Searching his features she didn’t find any malice nor was there a predatory look in his eyes. With favors came strings, and it ruined relationships. She knew her spirit couldn’t take another blow. She’d pay him back every cent. The relief felt foreign to her, and she was anxious about being in debt to Wes. She didn’t want things to change between them.
“Okay, I won’t argue, but it’s a loan. You can take it from my pay.” She wrung her hands together.
“I won’t be doing that. I have a side project I’ve been putting off. Would you be willing to work under–I mean–with me at the shop?” She couldn’t tell if his words were a simple mix up or if there was some kind of meaning behind them.
“I’m sorry, what?” Melody set her fork down, met his intense gaze, and assessed the situation.
“You’ve been helping me list the inventory but I don’t think standard photos are cutting it. I know some of what I build is unique and–”
“Would it be visually pleasing with a partner or submissive?”
He nodded and Melody thought about the opportunity at hand. She stood her ground on her limits. “No videos online or anything, right? Private collection, no online printing?”
“Private portfolio, yes, more for instructional use when meeting customer's expectations and adjustments. I’m not shipping something three times. I learned that lesson once.” She remembered totaling the invoices, and how he’d ended up in the red when all was said and done.
“I know you don’t allow just anyone in there.”
“No, no, I don’t.” Wes’ jaw ticked, and his gaze darkened.
“It would be an honor to be allowed into your sacred space.”
FOUR
Wes stood outside Surrender waiting for Melody. On Tuesday the club was closed for deep cleaning and any maintenance that needed addressing while the floor was closed to members. It was when most of the private classes took place—when possible—making it better for any participant fighting inevitable nerves.
A silver Camry pulled in and Melody stepped out, her long red curls cascading down her back. She flashed Wes a bright smile, her emerald eyes sparkling with excitement. “Hey there," she said, walking over to him. Wes couldn't help but feel a surge of nervous excitement in her presence.
“Hey," Wes replied, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. He gestured toward the club's entrance. Pulling the door open, he let Melody walk ahead of him. They passed through security and fell into step down the office hall.
Reaching his workroom, he held the door for her. He caught himself leaning into her, she smelled of lavender and lemon.
“I didn’t realize it would be this big after the renovation.” Melody walked into the center of the work area, she turned slowly on her heel. The wooden floor creaked under her feet.
“Yeah, I haven’t decided if it was bribery for a new piece or she knows that Noah’s on the commission list again.” Her husband’s borderline sadistic imagination kept Wes on his toes and his schedule busy.
“With those two,” Melody snickered.
She looked around the workshop, eyes wide with wonder. Melody followed him as he walked to a corner of the room, where a large table stood, its top covered in paper sketches and detailed carving tools of various sizes and shapes.. “Oh wow," she breathed out, taking in the sight before her. Wes’ chest bubbled with pride as she examined his pieces. He couldn’t help but smile.
As Melody continued to take in the sights, her eyes widened. “These are so intricate.”
Some were play cabinets, whereas others had a more hidden devious use. He loved how she appreciated his craft, taking in every detail of each piece with such care. As she turned around, Wes noticed the way her red curls bounced gently around her shoulders, a few strands whipping in the wind to dance playfully around her face. She seemed truly mesmerized by the array of furniture scattered throughout the room - an oak armoire with custom carvings, chairs with high backs and curved legs, a bedside table with a secret compartment with a built-in charger port for easy and discrete charging.
Melody stood in front of the custom St. Andrew’s cross he’d been working on. The client requested it’s arches backward instead of the traditional vertical X. The deeper the arch, the more exposed it left the submissive once tethered to the eyebolts he’d installed for cuffs and rope.
“Be careful of the unfinished pieces. I still have some sanding and polishing.” He enjoyed the feeling and connection of sandpaper and elbow grease. His grandfather taught him that his pieces would always be superior when done by hand.
“Yes, splinters in places like that would be embarrassing and painful.”
