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“Submission does not have a gender, only a heart for the act of submission and a strength that empowers that heart,” I answered honestly and with every ounce of sincerity I possessed. I held his gaze for a pregnant, silent pause until at last he sighed and, with a shrug, took his seat once again.
“Beautifully spoken, Lady Luxe. Now, on to sub frenzy.” Bex began her class anew, but my thoughts and my focus were solely on the man in the back of the room. The one with the dark brown hair and the eyes that were still focused on my own.
* * *
“You two did amazing!”Max praised Bex and me as the students began to file out of the room.
“It was all Bex,” I replied, looking at my wonderful submissive with utter pride and adoration.
“What the hell was that bit with you and the new guy?” Bex asked, eyeing me suspiciously.
“Nothing for you to worry about, I assure you.”
“Well, Erin and I have a scene planned on the main stage in about thirty minutes, so I’ve got to run, but I wanted to stay long enough to congratulate you both. Luxe, this may have to be a regular thing for you two.” He winked at us both, hightailing it out of there before either of us could protest.
“Lady Luxe,” Septus spoke behind me, clearing his throat loudly.
“I’ll clean up here and leave you to it.” Bex cast a knowing look towards me and I mouthedthank youto her before taking a deep breath and turning around.
“Septus, good evening,” I greeted him with a smile.
“I think it might be good for us to talk.” Gone was any shred of smugness in his tone or his expression. In fact, he looks almost sheepish, with his hands stuck into his pockets, rocking back on his heels.
“I think that would be a good idea. Let’s go to the back. There are a few small meeting rooms there where we can talk privately.” My suggestion was met only with a curt nod of his head and a gesture of his hand as he let me lead the way. We made our way through the main event space of Haven and down a back hallway. Past the kitchen, which was smelling heavenly with some homemade treat to share, we walked until we came to a hallway of small meeting rooms.
“This wasn’t part of the tour,” Septus said, looking around the small, almost office-like space.
“It’s not used often, and we don’t like the general public to find their way back here unless they request a room for negotiations or another reason that is pre-arranged.”
“That makes sense.” He sat in the chair on one side of the small table, and I took the other seat. It was set up like a conference room, only on a much smaller scale. It was intimate and worked well for negotiations and other small meetings.
“Listen, Septus —” I began, but he quickly cut me off.
“Thatcher.”
“What?” I blinked slowly, confused by the interruption.
“I’d rather you call me Thatcher while we talk. Or Tripp, if you’d rather.”
“Oh, alright. Well, — wait. Your name is Tripp Wells,” I repeated slowly.
“Yes,” he said even slower, confusion written on his face. “Is there an issue with my name?” I burst out laughing and immediately regretted it.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t laugh,” I apologized profusely. I could feel the blush tinge my cheeks as I felt shame wash over me.
“No, you absolutely should,” he said, a smirk gliding over his face. “Tripp Wells? If I had a nickel for every joke made regarding my name, I’d be a rich man right now.”
We both laughed for a moment, and I found my eyes drawn to the way his eyes lit up. I felt my pulse quicken ridiculously. He was an attractive man, but he wasn’t a god, and I didn’t need to react like a damn school girl over some stupid grin. “It’s a funny name.” He chuckled quietly and scratched at the perfectly trimmed beard on his face.
My mouth went dry looking at him. Okay, so maybe he was a little more attractive than I wanted to admit. He had dark hair that was perfectly shaped for his face. His beard suited him well, giving him more the look of a celebrity than a normal man you see around town. His jaw was strong, and his body — I couldn’t bear to look lower than his face right now, or I would be unable to focus like I needed to. But above it all were his eyes. Deep, vibrant blue eyes that pierced through me every time he looked at me. It was titillating. It was infuriating. And I needed it to stop.
“You know what I don’t get?” he asked, the tone of the conversation turning somber.
“What’s that?”
“How you can talk such a good game out there in front of all those people, but yet when you’re actually face to face with a submissive — particularly amalesubmissive — all of that goes to shit.”
“That wasn’t me talking up a good game. It was —”
