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The most pressing message was from Arthur Blackwell who wanted to know if Banner was interested in making a deal on a bigger purchase of cane sugar. Now that they’d found a niche market with museum gift shops and hipster bars, Cobalt Harbor Soda had new distributors popping up daily. It was hard to believe that his father had lost almost everything before old-fashioned soda flavors had caught on. He’d lived just long enough to see the beginning of the good times.
His dynamic, hardworking father lying still and waxy on the hospital gurney crept into his mind. He’d just missed saying good-bye to him, even though he’d raced through town when he’d gotten his mother’s frantic call. Blowing the red lights that night hadn’t made a difference. There was no tragic, unfinished business between them, but the loss of Hans Jennings had left a hole in his life. He’d taught Banner how to be a businessman, then left him holding the bag. There were so many times in a day when he wished he could call his father and ask for advice. Now he had to figure things out on his own—his mother, sister, and much younger brother were counting on him to keep them all afloat. There was a constant pressure on him not to fuck up. His life wasn’t about himself or his own needs anymore.
The door to his office opened and shut again. He kept working, knowing Belle would tell him if there was something that needed his attention. Chances were she just needed a file.
“Mr. Jennings, can I get your autograph?” That fake falsetto wasn’t Belle.
He glanced up, knowing who it was even before he laid eyes on the muscle-bound jerk standing just inside the door. “Ambrose, you dickless bastard, when did you get home?”
His best friend smiled. “Just now. And, dickless? Really? That’s not what Anna said.”
“Quit fucking my exes.”
“If you’re done with them, they’re fair game. Besides, there
are only so many submissives in Felix, New Jersey. I can’t get all moral about dating your cast-offs. They’re always looking to talk about you anyway. You should put me on the payroll as a therapist for the ones you throw away.”
Banner’s guts twisted. There’d been a string of unsuccessful relationships for him during the past couple of years, but did Ambrose expect him to stay with girls who weren’t a good match?
“I don’t throw people away. There are just specific things that I need, and if that’s not compatible with what a woman wants, then why would I lie to her and let us both become attached knowing things ultimately won’t work?” He closed his laptop and sighed.
Ambrose laughed. “You’re getting cynical in your old age. If you weren’t such a kinky bastard you’d have found someone by now. Finding a woman who wants to grovel at your feet for the rest of her life might be a tall order. You might have to satisfy yourself with a submissive and see if you can slowly push her limits.” He slouched into the chair across from Banner and ran a hand over his bald head. Between his build and his shaved head, Ambrose looked like a thug—even in a suit.
A grumble escaped him. “Lately there are a lot of women hanging around saying they’re submissives, when really all they want is some hot sex. I mean, I’m all for hot sex, but fake submission doesn’t get me off.”
“Yeah, yeah. They’re not all fake submissives though. Eventually, you’ll just stumble into the right girl and it will all click. Yadda yadda. Why don’t you try training someone to please you instead of relying on chance to put the perfect girl in your path? Do you think she’ll show up here wearing a collar and begging you to be her Master?”
“No.” The word sounded sullen, even to Banner.
“Come on. You look like a man who wants to take me to lunch.” Ambrose got to his feet and stretched. “The pretzels they gave me on the plane back from New Orleans have worn off, and I need food before I start biting people.”
Banner snorted. “Belle might be into that, but her sub might claw your eyes out.”
“Ohhh yeahhh . . . if Belle’s sub wanted to get feisty with me I wouldn’t complain.”
“She doesn’t like men.”
“Neither do I. It gives us something in common.”
Banner grimaced as he stood. He grabbed his cell, and it promptly went off in his hand. Figured. “Where am I taking you for lunch?” He unlocked his phone and glanced at it. The number didn’t look familiar.
“Hmm. Are you coming back to work afterward, or is lunch just a prelude to happy hour?”
He opened the message on his phone, surprised to see who it was.
This is Kate. I met you at Janine’s party the other night. Sorry to be a pain in the ass, but I need your help.
Immediately, he texted back. Yes, I remember. What’s wrong?
A guy just messaged me on KinkWorld and asked me if I was into figging. Am I into figging?
“Uh oh. I know that expression. New girl?”
Banner shook his head but couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “Just a friend. She’s new to kink, and she just asked me if she’s into figging. Some guy is hitting on her online.”
“His opening line is figging? What is the world coming to?” Ambrose shook his head and clucked in disapproval. “What’s wrong with asking someone out for a coffee, or a simple getting-to-know-you flogging?” He paused. “So is she into figging?”
“I doubt she even knows if she’s into flogging. She’s that new.”
