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Like this wasn't? Yes, M, I started the day by letting a customer play with my hair. Then Table Six wanted to give me a foot massage and I had to be fair to them...
The woman's nails scraped her scalp. For a brief moment her hand tightened, pulling on the hair beneath in such strong contrast to the lighter touch Gen's full attention snapped back to her. An incredible sensation arrowed right down her center. She swallowed, and the woman's gaze followed the movement, though Gen wondered if what she was really following was the direction of the other invisible but very significant reaction.
Gen felt a trickle of panic, the reaction to a situation where she was over her head and might end up doing something really wrong to extricate herself from it. She didn't react to women like this. But then, no woman had ever actually touched her like this.
That was when Red Sonja let her go.
"Thank you, Gen." Laying the sticks down next to her coffee, she lifted the cup to her lips. "My name is Lyda Coltrane, if you need to let Marguerite know who her visitor is. You can return to your duties."
Now her voice reminded Gen of early autumn, the advance of cool weather and lingering heat of summer mixing, neither season willing to be denied.
Her gray eyes flickered past Gen, a dismissal, before they focused on the display wall where Marguerite kept her special collection of tea sets and memorabilia. The panicked feeling morphed into something else. This woman was screwing with her. This was a friend of Marguerite's?
"I...no offense, Ms. Coltrane, but touching...inappropriate touching, isn't allowed here."
It wasn't written up in policy, but tea drinkers usually didn't molest the staff. Gen had to assert some kind of defense. She wasn't a teenager, so easily intimidated.
"It didn't feel inappropriate to me. How about to you?" Lyda blew on the contents of the coffee cup.
"I'm not...I've been married. Twice."
Lyda's penetrating gaze lifted to hers. "Your point?"
"Let me know if you need a refill on the coffee." Pivoting, Gen moved with stiff purpose to the other tables. No one gave her odd looks, so her customers must have missed the hair incident. Or they chalked it up to one woman asking another woman about her hair, right? Maybe she was overreacting.
Disconcerting. That fit Lyda Coltrane, for sure.
The phone rang, giving her an excuse to retreat behind the counter. As she bent over her pad to take a phone order, she had to hold her hair back on one side to see. Damn it, Lyda had her sticks. It had been awhile since she'd worn her hair down. Feeling the strands tumble forward made her feel...girlish. Pretty. Something she'd rethink if she saw a mirror. She probably looked like she had a limp dish mop on her head.
As she hung up, the side door opened, flooding her with relief. Glancing down the access hallway to Marguerite's office, she saw her boss come up the two stairs, her heels tapping against the old wood floor. "Good morning."
Lyda Coltrane might come off as scary in the right circumstances, but Marguerite Winterman was that way 24/7. Tall, with moonlight-colored hair and direct, pale-blue eyes that could laser through steel if needed, she was a woman who commanded attention and compliance from everyone around her. While she could be so calm it was eerie--Chloe's words, but they fit--they knew the loving and generous spirit beneath that reserve. The three of them had been through a lot together. As a result, no matter how intimidating M was, Gen and Chloe were as protective of her as she was of them. She was friend, confidante and family, all rolled up in one. The world would balance again. Marguerite was here.
As Marguerite snapped on the light in her office, Gen moved out of view of the public floor to stand in her doorway. "You have a visitor. Lyda Coltrane?"
Marguerite's gaze became marginally warmer, which said Lyda was a friendly acquaintance, not close friend. No surprise there, since Marguerite didn't have a great many in that inner circle.
"All right. Will you bring in some of the new Ceylon from the storeroom? I'll cover things here while Lyda and I talk."
"Sure. We have a phone order for six. It's written up on the counter and I've gotten it started. They said it would be about thirty minutes."
"All right." Marguerite put her purse in the bottom drawer of her desk. "I like your hair down. You haven't worn it that way in a while. And you're flushed, eyes bright as spring leaves." Her silken brow rose. "New love interest?"
"No," Gen said emphatically. "Lyda took it down. She--"
Marguerite's lips firmed, her blue eyes getting a less friendly look, hastening Gen to explain further. "She was checking the color, said she liked it." She'd actually said it was beautiful, but it was clear Gen shouldn't have said anything. "I--"
Marguerite held up a finger. "It's not your fault, Gen. Lyda is like that. You've done nothing wrong. Ceylon?"
At a loss, Gen chose to escape. Heading out the side door, she made the turn into Marguerite's private garden, stopping to put her hands to her cheeks. She was flushed. And she'd just stood there while Lyda was touching her. What the hell...
A walk in Marguerite's gardens tended to calm the mind. Taking a couple breaths, Gen inhaled the scents from the herb garden, trailed her fingers through the fountain as a good morning to the circling koi, then followed the stepping stones to the storage building. Just before she reached it, a thought brought her up short.
Lyda is like that. Of course. It should have been obvious.
Less than a couple years ago, a break-in at Tea Leaves, a terrible event connected to M's past and one that nearly lost her both M and Chloe, had taught Gen what lay beneath Marguerite's formidable calm. During that time, she'd also found out some pretty eye-opening things about her boss. Marguerite was a sexual Dominant, a Mistress. Tyler, was also one--a Master that is. Chloe's husband Brendan was a submissive who inhabited that world.
Eventually, Chloe had revealed to Gen the shocking fact Marguerite had been Brendan's Mistress of choice before meeting Chloe. While Chloe wasn't a Mistress, she was a sexually adventurous young woman. Somehow, she and Brendan were making it work, but there was an undeniably strong bond between them, more than the usual overt affection of newlyweds.
