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“You can call me Ace.”
“Nice to meet you…Ace.”
“The pleasure’s mine.” His gaze dropped to her bare breasts and then to the sarong wrapped around her hips. “You’ll be needin’ to take that off.”
“But I…” She was naked underneath for God’s sake. Of course, that was hardly a valid reason for leaving the sarong in place. Most of the people in the crowd were naked. And uninhibited.
She knew her breasts were nice. And unenhanced, which seemed to be the minority around here. Judging from the look in his chocolate gaze, Ace agreed. But her pussy posed a bit of an issue. She was a little overdressed for the party, so to speak. She’d been surprised when she arrived on the nude beach to find that nearly all of the women, and a good portion of the men, had shaved. Or waxed. Or whatever one did. Manscaping, Bailey had called it, and Lisa had laughed so hard she nearly peed her pants. Or lack thereof. Not that she’d come totally unprepared. She’d trimmed and coifed her dark blond bush. But here, trimmed and coifed seemed a trifle out of place.
“Are you a little shy, sweet Lisa?” Ace’s sexy voice teased.
“No.” Gathering her courage, she stripped off the sarong and flung it toward him, baring her triangle of curls to the crowd.
The flimsy fabric molded to Ace’s chiseled chest, and he dropped his gazeto her pussy. His eyes smoldered, and heat rushed over her flesh. Was it her imagination? Or did he appreciate the au naturel look?
Ace fingered a white rope that looked like her mother’s clothesline. The idea of being bound by rope frightened her. Scarves. Scarves were soft, silky, and sexy. Wouldn’t they work better?
“Um…Ace?”
“Yes, sweet?”
“C-Could you use scarves for the demonstration? I think I’d be more comfortable.”
“Ah, such a novice.” He smiled again.
Her skin tingled. Damn, he was gorgeous.
“Scarves aren’t safe, love. They’re difficult to untie once they’re knotted, and they can cut off circulation quite easily.”
Lisa’s cheeks warmed. Novice? Hell, she was a complete child when it came to this stuff.
“But don’t be scared, sweet,” Ace said. “I know what I’m doin’.”
“Uh…okay.”
“Anyone in the lifestyle will tell you the master takes full responsibility for his submissive’s safety. A good master knows to watch for circulation or breathin’ problems, signs of hyperventilation, and the like.”
“Really.” Lisa shook her head. “I had no idea.”
He chuckled. “That’s becoming clear. But no worries, sweet. I won’t harm you.” He held up the white rope. “Nylon is the best rope to use for bondage. It’s strong, it unties easily, and it’s generally comfortable.”
An image of her mother tying her father in clothesline shot into Lisa’s head, and she stifled a laugh.
“Did I say something funny?” Ace asked.
“No, no. It’s just…that looks like my mom’s old clothesline.”
His white teeth glimmered. “Not clothesline, sweet. That’d be cotton, whi
ch isn’t good rope for bondage. It retains too much moisture.”
“Why would that be a problem?”
“Germs, sweet.”
The crowd “mmmhmm’d” in a din, and Lisa felt like an idiot. Clearly, there was a lot she didn’t know about bondage. Well, duh.
“You’ll want to seal the ends of your nylon rope with flame,” Ace said. “Otherwise it unravels easily.”
