AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Some shocking part of her wanted to sink to her knees, wait until his other gloved hand touched her face, lifted her chin. He'd command her to take Willow's place on the frame and send her soaring as well.
Jimmy's jaw would drop at that, for sure.
Retrieving her drink, she turned away, leaving the room. Aftercare was personal, intimate. It had been her favorite part of the sessions with Roy. Even though this Master and Willow were in a public club environment, Athena didn't have a desire to intrude on that. It made too many things hurt.
It wasn't until she'd left the room that she realized she was still wearing the glove. She took it off, left it on a drink table next to the archway leading into the Fortress, where he'd be sure to find it.
She had to suppress a strong urge to keep it. She wanted to sleep with it on her pillow, her cheek against it. She wanted to put it back on her hand, rub it between her legs the way he'd massaged Willow, and imagine him whispering in her ear. Come for me.
When she put her cup on the bar, Jimmy gave her a knowing look. "The new guy's something, isn't he? He's been really popular with the lowercase ladies."
Athena offered a faint smile at his reference to female submissives. When submissives wrote their names on the guest logs, most of them, even those who used their actual first names, wrote them in lowercase. Willow would be willow. Only Masters and Mistresses had capitalized names.
"He won't play with men?"
"No. To the eternal disappointment of those of us with bi or queer tendencies." Jimmy winked. He was bisexual and a switch on top of that, though she knew his preference was submissive. "But I'm not sure I'd call what he does play. He goes at it with a singular intensity, like he's performing a religious rite. You hear about that happening, but rarely see it in action. Not to the level he does it. You should come in one night, see him do it from beginning to end. The way he prepares himself, lays out what he'll use. That's why we've taken to calling him Master Craftsman--MC. He said he thought we were comparing him to a Sears department store. Solid quality but something most folks sadly consider outdated. That part didn't seem to bother him. In fact, I think he took it as a compliment."
Jimmy flashed a grin. "Oh, and on the straight versus gay thing, he told me he doesn't mind watching some Mistress-girl action."
Athena made a wry face. "That's every straight man's fantasy, Jimmy. You know that."
"Yeah. Isn't it peculiar, how many religions get worked up over two guys going at it, but they don't say diddly about two women?"
"Just proves men wrote religious texts."
"No argument there." Jimmy chuckled. "I bet MC would have enjoyed the heck out of that thing you orchestrated for Roy's last birthday."
She'd put Roy on that same frame that Willow was on now. She'd wrapped his arms, legs and torso with multiple bindings so that he could barely move. Then she lay down on a divan several feet in front of him. Marsha, a submissive who liked being commanded to do oral on men or women, had lent Athena her services that night. She'd put her soft lips between Athena's legs, curled her pretty hands around her thighs and brought Athena to climax while Roy watched. When she was done, Athena ordered Marsha on her knees in front of Roy to service him the same way while Athena watched, standing behind her. After she'd given him permission to come, Roy had gushed into the cherry-chocolate flavored condom Marsha was sucking.
Marsha had been thanked and dismissed, and then Athena had shifted behind him, laid her cheek on Roy's back. Listening to his breath go in and out, absorbing the shudder of his body through her own, she'd been captivated by what she'd done to him. He'd been hers, but she'd been his, too. Had he realized that? She missed having a man look at her with pure ownership in his eyes. Very much.
"I'm calling it a night, Jimmy. Thanks for the drink."
"Sure thing. Don't stay away so long next time. And hey . . . I mean, if Dillon and Seth don't interest you, I'm another option. Just give me a heads-up and I'll make sure I'm not on shift here."
"Thanks, I appreciate that. You're a good friend." The sudden flash of male interest made her uncomfortabl
e, however. Perhaps sensing it, he waved his hand dismissively. "I'm a guy, Lady Mistress. You know it's a selfish offer. A lot of us would love to experience what Roy did. You're an amazing Domme."
How would he react if he knew she wanted to go to her knees for a Dom she'd just seen for the first time? Jimmy's innocuous and honest proposal made her want to flee. Not wishing to hurt his feelings, she gave him a distant smile, shaking her head to deflect the compliment, then took her leave.
The club was on the second level of a warehouse in an industrial area, so she took a set of stairs down to the first level. They had a volunteer at a table just inside the entrance door. He served as an informal security guard, keeping an eye on the cars in the parking lot. She nodded to him, pushing open the door.
Her dark blue BMW was close to the entrance, and she unlocked it, slipped in behind the wheel, closed the door. Embracing that personal cocoon, a haven from questions and the outside world, she tried to shrug off her confusing emotions. Jimmy's suggestion had stabbed something down deep inside her. Something that rose up with astonishing firmness and proclaimed never again. She'd been a Mistress to Roy alone.
Yet she wasn't done with this, was she? The sense that she belonged in this world kept drawing her back. She just didn't know how to change her role in it, or if she really wanted to change, or if she was just confused. Sometimes the simplest thing was best. Perhaps it was time to cut it out of her life. Bury it as she had her husband. Metaphorically, since he was cremated.
When she keyed the ignition, she saw she had less than a quarter tank of gas left. Enough to get home, but tomorrow she'd be heading to the Garden Club meeting, so it would be more convenient to get gas tonight. She should have thought about it earlier, but lately she'd been more forgetful about those kinds of things. Suppressing a sigh, she glanced across the street. There was a twenty-four-hour, credit-card-only station there. Despite the late hour, since she was across from the club entrance, it should be safe enough to put in a few gallons.
She cut across the quiet street. After she processed her credit card and inserted the pump into the BMW to start fueling, an old Cadillac pulled into the aisle across from hers. The two men driving didn't look particularly reputable, but in New Orleans, that didn't necessarily signify danger.
She was merely annoyed, not alarmed, when the driver approached her. He was probably going to try and bum a few dollars off of her. As she unhooked the gas pump from her tank, put it back in its slot, the other man emerged from the Caddy, circled around to the other side of her car.
In hindsight, she knew she should have jumped in the car at the first sight of them, locked the doors and laid down on the horn. The club volunteer was at the proper angle to view the parking lot, but he wouldn't be looking toward the gas station unless something drew his attention there, like a blaring horn. It might have been an overreaction if they meant her no harm, but it would be better than what she was facing now.
Hindsight never really did anyone much good, did it? She should have filled up earlier. She needed to give herself a firm scolding for that. Unbidden, she imagined "MC" giving her that scolding, and received a shiver up her spine at the mere thought.
What was the matter with her? Two men had her hemmed in at her car, and yet she seemed caught in a fog, her natural adrenaline reaction clogged. Her response to their threat was perilously slow. Almost apathetic.
