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Getting to her feet, she dropped her napkin on her embarrassingly clean plate. He started to speak, but she cut him off.
“Thanks for the breakfast. See you around.”
Chapter 10
Hannah blew a tendril of hair out of her eyes, her arms up to the elbows in sudsy water. She was still ruminating on the events of the night before and that morning as she washed dishes. She’d arrived home feeling edgy, excited, irritated, angry, confused and aroused in equal measure.
In a word, she was a mess.
Unfortunately, no housekeeping fairies had arrived during her overnight absence, so she decided to put her angst to work on some serious deep cleaning. Two hours later, the bathrooms were scrubbed and sparkling, the sheets changed, the rugs vacuumed, the furniture dusted, the floors mopped. She’d saved the dishes for last, after which she planned to treat herself to her favorite comfort food—a grilled cheese sandwich on sourdough accompanied by a cup of her homemade tomato soup.
She recognized with the passage of a little time that she’d probably overreacted to Mason’s glib remarks. At least her timing had been good when she’d made her dramatic exit from his kitchen. Just as she’d pushed her way through the swinging doors, Hans had appeared, her coat in his hands, politely asking if she was ready to depart. Other than a bit of polite small talk, the young man had been mostly silent on the drive down, which had suited her at the time, as she was still riled up by what had occurred.
Calmer now, she tried to put things into perspective—to see them from Mason’s point of view. He’d been invited to participate in what was surely to his mind an extremely tame scene with a woman he regarded as something of an interloper. He’d made that much clear.
“You were just along for the ride.”
No doubt, he was so used to the highly trained slave girls at The Enclave that he’d thought nothing of flogging her to a frenzy and then making her come, just because he could. When it was done, so was he—on to the next scene, therealscene he’d been waiting for. She was the one who had made too much of it all, reliving the events in exhaustive detail as she lay in the unfamiliar bed the night before, that camera in the corner blinking at her.
Now, as she set the dishes in the rack to dry, she fervently wished she’d handled things differently this morning in his kitchen. When Mason had quipped about putting her on her knees to lick the plate clean, she should have come up with a clever, sassy retort, instead of blushing beet red and stammering like an idiot. If only real life was like writing, and you could highlight and delete the sections that just didn’t work.
Her phone dinged on the counter. Reaching for the dish towel, she dried her hands and grabbed it. It was a text from Charlotte.
Hey! Where’s my full report? Are you home or still up at The Enclave?
Hannah experienced a pang of guilt. Caught up in her own drama, she’d completely forgotten to text Charlotte.
I’m home. Sorry I didn’t text sooner. I was seized with the urge to do some deep cleaning. That only happens once every decade or so, so I went with it. Where are you? How are your piercings?
Piercings are good! I’m over at The Garden with Anthony. We’re expecting a delivery of some new equipment for the club. While he’s down here, he would like to talk to you about whatever y’all discussed last night. Can you come over to the club?
A shiver of excitement fizzed through Hannah. Anthony must have been serious when he’d said there might be a role for her at The Enclave. Did she even want to go back there after flouncing out of Mason’s kitchen?
Who was she kidding? Wild horses wouldn’t keep her away, Mason or no. She thumbed back:
Sure, yes! I can be there in a half hour or so. Does that work?
Perfect. See you then. ?
Heart racing with excitement, Hannah hurried into her now sparkling bathroom for a quick shower. She dressed in a black knit top over blue jeans, applied a bit of makeup and fooled with her hair for a few minutes. The shirt was lower cut than she usually wore, and with the new push-up bra beneath it, she was revealing quite a bit more cleavage than she was used to. She stood in front of her full-length mirror for a while, trying to decide if her outfit was too sexy for the middle of the day.
“Maybe to go grocery shopping,” she said aloud. “But for a meeting with a Master at a BDSM club, I’d say it’s about right.” She squinted at her image. “But it needs…something.” All at once, she knew exactly what was missing.
She rummaged in her jewelry drawer and finally found the old leather choker necklace Andy had given her back in their college days. It was a simple string of leather with a pearl knotted at the center. While it wasn’t a collar, it gave the suggestion of one.
Satisfied with her appearance, she hurried to the kitchen, grabbed her keys from the hook by the door that led into the garage and climbed into her trusty old Subaru.
The Garden was located in downtown Asheville near the cross streets of Patton Avenue and Grove Street. Unlike the more flamboyantgay bars surrounding it, The Garden was housed in a nondescript brick building, the unmarked entrance accessible through the alley in the back. It was a word-of-mouth place, but word had definitely gotten out, as it was always packed whenever Hannah had been there.
When she tried the handle of the door, she found it locked. She rang the buzzer beside it and took a step back as she waited. A moment later, she heard the sound of a deadbolt turning. The door opened and Charlotte stood there. She wore black leggings and a tight-fitting red T-shirt that had the wordpropertystamped on it. If you looked carefully, you could just see the outline of her nipple jewelry. The red slave collar with the heart-shaped silver padlock was around her neck.
“There you are,” Charlotte said, opening her arms. Hannah stepped into them and they embraced briefly. As they parted, Charlotte added, “Your timing is perfect. The delivery guy just left.” Taking a step back, she regarded Hannah with a raised brow. “I’m liking this new look. It’s downright sexy. And what is this?” She touched the leather and pearl choker at Hannah’s neck. “Is that a collar I see?”
Mildly embarrassed but also pleased, Hannah admitted, “Not really. It’s just an old choker Andy gave me a hundred years ago.”
“Well, it suits you,” Charlotte said, her own hand going to the genuine slave collar around her neck. “Maybe one day you’ll wear something as lovely as this, gifted to you by your true Master.” She held up a hand to forestall Hannah’s inevitable protest. “I know you don’t think you’re slave material, but never say never, Hannah. Because you just never know.”
Only the day before, Hannah would have dismissed Charlotte’s words out of hand. But this morning, she felt differently. While she sincerely doubted she would ever embrace D/s as a 24/7 lifestyle, last night had opened her eyes, at least, to the possibilities.
