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I was beginning to suspect it had something to do with being back in Aspen. Typically, I only ever passed through, not really spending longer than a day or three in the area, but I’d been here for a few months by the time the club opened.
To be totally honest, the nostalgia hit me a lot harder than expected. I was able to push it to the side by focusing on construction and working towards opening night. But when the BDSM club was finally open, I was forced to confront what I’d pushed to the edge of my mind.
Reagan.
I’d pushed her memory away for such a long time. It was just easier that way. I hadn’t seen her in years. One day, we were together and in love, and the next, she was gone without a real goodbye. All I got was a stupid letter that sounded nothing like the girl I knew, but it was her handwriting and outlined how she never wanted to see me again. It broke my heart.
Some would say our relationship was a silly teenage romance that I should have gotten over quickly. But I loved Reagan. I would have given up everything for her, but she left me before I had the chance to let her know how deep my love for her was. Since then, I’ve kept my feelings to myself. I never wanted to go through something like that again.
All of this stupid nostalgia was getting in the way of me having a good night. Hopefully, once the club was fully up and running, and I got out of Aspen, I could shake off these strange pangs. Reagan needed to stay in the past where she left me.
I scanned the club, keeping a lookout for any bad behavior. Running clubs like this required a lot of due diligence. If we wanted our clientele to return, then they needed to feel both safe and secure. Privacy was respected, and we had a set of rules. Anyone who came to my club had to agree to a code of conduct, and if they broke a rule, that person was promptly kicked out and not allowed to return.
Opening night was always the most fraught night. I needed to drill the no-nonsense policy into people’s heads, and then it would be general smooth sailing.
Things were moving really well. Patrons were enjoying themselves. Whips were cracking. One woman was in cuffs on the center stage. The crowd was happy, and, oddly, I was starting to feel in the way. I was beginning to think it would be better for me to go hang out in my office.
Usually, I preferred to be on the floor of a BDSM club, but I was in a weird mood. Plus, I had a decent enough view of the club from up there. I was sure the security I had around the club would be enough to keep things civil. It was for the best that I head up there.
I was taking myself upstairs when something made me immediately stop. Well, someone to be accurate.
But it couldn’t be her! There's no way. I mean, it wasn't a crazy thought that she had stayed behind in Aspen. I guess I had always assumed she had left town, given the disappearing act she had pulled.
But there she was. Reagan White.
Reagan looked almost exactly the same. She was tall for a woman with the best pair of legs I had ever seen. Brown hair I used to run my fingers through was up in a long ponytail that somehow accentuated her sharp jaw and cheekbones. The woman was startling in her beauty, with blue eyes that one could see clearly across a room. It had been almost a decade since I’d seen my first love. That girlish cuteness had made way for womanly curves and mature sexiness.
I would have thought close to ten years of no contact would have toned down my feelings for Reagan, but I was immediately back to being that lovesick teenage boy who would do anything to make his girlfriend happy. Anything she asked for, I was ready to go to the ends of the earth to do, just so I could be with her.
I hadn’t felt like this in a very long time. And, truth be told, I’m not the biggest fan of it. Not in the slightest.
I needed to talk to her. If I didn’t, I’d regret it. I was just telling myself to leave all those feelings in the past, but seeing her changed the situation entirely. If I were to walk away, it would be the next thing I thought about for however many years until, for whatever reason, we bumped into one another again.
There was a considerable possibility this was the only chance I’d have. There was no way I’d be able to live with all that guilt, not knowing if I had done the right thing. I had so many questions for Reagan. A lot of them had been stewing in my brain on the backburner for years, ever since she had left me. Maybe suddenly confronting her wasn’t the most logical or most well thought out plan, but she was suddenly in front of me, and I wasn’t about to waste the opportunity.
