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"She's in the back garden, Regina. Just go behind the counter and out the side door. She's expecting you. I made you those little strawberry cakes you like."
"Bless you. Just right for my mood." Regina didn't hesitate to give the girl a quick hug. Chloe responded with a strong return squeeze and a girlish, breathy laugh.
"Marguerite insists that Tyler stays with her only for my baking skills. I told her if that was really true, I'd kill her off and he could sample my goods anytime he wants."
Regina laughed. "Don't you have a man, you insatiable midget?"
"The best man in the whole universe," Chloe agreed without hesitation. "But it's Tyler. He's a god, not a man. Those amber tiger eyes, the trace of sexy silver in his hair... Brendan understands."
"Too true. But let's not remind Tyler of that too often. He already thinks too highly of himself." Regina ran an affectionate hand down the young woman's arm and moved toward the counter.
No matter the suggestive banter about Tyler being the top of the pyramid in man candy land, Chloe knew the same truth that anyone else did who'd ever seen Tyler and Marguerite Winterman together. Those two souls had been forged in the fires at the beginning of time and would always be the only one for the other.
Regina initially had been dismayed when she'd heard that Marguerite switched for Tyler. Most Dommes' hackles rose over that kind of thing, because way too often Dommes were interpreted one of two ways by an ignorant world. Either they were a pro-Domme, whose dominance was tied to professional services offered, or they weren't really a Domme at all; just a strong-willed woman waiting for the right man to top her. Give me a fucking break. She'd like to break the first person who'd planted that seed. Probably from the same family of inbreeds who suggested a raped woman was asking for it.
Marguerite's Domme skills had been legendary at The Zone, and they still were. Yet before meeting Tyler, Marguerite had been closed off, reserved, sitting on something in her past that had given her Dominance a different form. Powerful and amazing, yes, but...detached. Regina realized abruptly it might be a different form of what she felt in Marius, a wall between himself and sincere submission.
Remaining a Mistress yet submitting to Tyler, Marguerite had found a whole new level. She'd needed that ability to switch to tap into something she needed, both as a Domme and as a woman. If that worked for her, it wasn't Regina's place to pass judgment. And Tyler had clearly found the woman he'd been wanting all his life.
So again--there was nothing like the BDSM world. A carnival of possibilities, and nothing was written in stone. There was no one path, which was what kept it a maze of interesting adventures.
Marguerite was sitting at a wrought iron table beside a large pot of overflowing flowers and vines. A whimsical sculpture of a rabbit sat in the middle of it, matching the smaller one sitting on the table between two place settings. A pot of tea was waiting on the table, along with an assortment of small sandwiches, fruit, cookies and Chloe's cakes. The cloth napkins at the place settings were in a triangle tent design on the matching china. Showing her usual style, Marguerite had created a lovely setting and props for their conversation. The relaxed environment eased something in Regina she hadn't realized was tense.
Even with the changes due to her relationship with Tyler, there was still a reserve to Marguerite that set her apart from everyone. Frankly, it made her intimidating at times, and Regina didn't get intimidated by much of anyone. So that coil of loosening tension suggested she'd been a little concerned about what Marguerite would think of the situation.
Well, she was looking for some genuine guidance, even if she was told some things she might not want to hear. She considered the woman a friend and amazing Domme, her opinion highly respected.
A semi-serious curve of lips was Marguerite's version of a smile, but her gaze was warm as she rose to take Regina's hand in a brief grip. "It's so rare we get time for a one-on-one visit," she observed. "I'm glad you called."
"If you'd come to my place, I would have cracked open a bottle of wine and dusted the cobwebs off the porch chairs. This is beautiful." Regina sat down, smoothing the table cloth. "You make a visitor feel like a VIP."
"I've been to your place, and your back porch is a gorgeous outdoo
r living space. It needs no embellishment, and a glass of wine sounds like the perfect way to enjoy it. From your message, this felt like a meeting of import, and it's been my experience that requires the right kind of headspace. An intimate tea, done correctly, gives us a quiet space to do that."
"No arguments, though I may wolf down all Chloe's cakes and get a sugar crash." Regina chuckled and indicated assent as Marguerite gestured to her tea cup. Marguerite was elegant and graceful in all she did, but there was a ritual to the way she did tea that enhanced it. It created a calmness in the recipient, as well as a respectful silence as she poured and prepared the tea with spare movements. She'd remembered Regina liked mint-flavored tea, and the amount of sugar and milk she preferred, which didn't surprise Regina.
After Marguerite was done, Regina sat back and sipped. A hanging planter festooned with dozens of tube-like lavender blossoms was being mined by a hummingbird. The creature dipped its long, sharp bill into each bloom, drinking the nectar. His wings were a blur of motion over his glossy green and purple body.
"I'm betting you never brought a sub to this inner sanctum." Regina smiled.
"No. This isn't a place for that. It's a good place to think and plan about it, though." A glimmer of humor went through Marguerite's gaze before it was replaced by something more serious. "Or consider big decisions like the one you're facing."
"Well, technically, there are no more decisions to be made. I drew a line in the sand and he crossed it, so I kicked him loose. I told him we were done. It wasn't a bluff. It can't be." She sighed and put down the cup. "But I'm here, Domme to Domme, because I know it's not finished. And I'd like some insight in how to reconcile those two truths."
Marguerite pursed her soft lips. "There's a difference between a bluff and changing your mind in the face of new information. Which is, I suspect, also why you're here. You know I've had a successful session with him, and you want to know more about how that went."
When she didn't say anything further and the pause drew out, her expression remaining closed, it prompted Regina to ask the question. "Is there a Dom and sub confidentiality clause?"
"If the Dominant feels it's necessary," Marguerite said.
"Is it necessary, in this case?"
Marguerite gave her a long look over the tea cup, this one more Domme than friend. Regina held the pale blue gaze, giving as good as she was getting. Not a wise idea to let Marguerite Winterman see you flinch.
"Tell me the most important thing you've learned so far about him, in session," the woman said.
Regina ate one of Chloe's cakes, gathering her thoughts. "Most Mistresses think he's a pain slut or uber-brat, craving physical punishment. But he absorbs that like a bottomless cup. Pain fuels the twisted part of him and shores up his defenses, so the last thing he should be given is extremes of physical pain."
