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Sophia watched, fascinated, her skin tingling with desire to feel the flicking heat of the flaming leather against her own body. She wished Nick was there with her so he, too, could enjoy the energy and power provided by the scene. She slipped her hand into the pocket on the side of her dress and pulled out her phone. No text yet.
Whatever, she told herself. She returned her focus to the scene. Maybe Mistress Ella would take volunteers after the demo, and Sophia would raise her hand.
When the scene ended, Mistress Ella did, indeed, ask for volunteers. Several hands shot eagerly in the air, but Sophia’s was not among them. What if Nick texted during the scene and she missed it? Even as the thought kept her from raising her hand, she mentally chided herself.
He was the one who had cut the evening short, or at least bisected it with his need to conduct his business. Why should she let his issues affect her fun? She raised her hand, but the selection had already been made. She watched as another girl shed her clothing and took her place as Mistress Ella prepared a new whip.
Sophia watched a while longer, but then drifted away, her heart no longer in it. She went to the tiki bar and ordered a frozen piña colada. While she was sipping, a nice-looking guy with light brown hair and light blue eyes slipped onto the stool beside her. He wore a tight black tank top, a black leather collar with an O-ring at the throat around his neck. He ordered a beer and then swiveled toward her. “Hi, there,” he said in a drawling Southern accent. He had an overbite but it was kind of cute, and his eyes were kind. “I’m Kenny. I just arrived this afternoon. I’m a sub boy. Would you like to be my Mistress?”
She grinned and shook her head. “Sorry, Kenny. I’m in your camp.”
His face fell, but then he shrugged with good humor. “Figures. You’re lucky, you know. It’s much harder to find a Mistress than a Master, even on Desire Island.”
They talked amiably for a while about the scene in general and their own experiences in particular. “Maybe you can talk to the staff,” Sophia suggested. “I bet there are dominant women here who would love the chance to get their hands on you.”
Kenny looked hopeful. “You think so?”
“Sure,” Sophia agreed. “You’re a good-looking guy.”
His face split in a broad, open grin. “Why, shucks, ma’am,” he said with an exaggerated drawl. “Thank you kindly.”
As they sipped their drinks and talked, Sophia’s hand kept slipping of its own accord into her pocket. But her phone remained silent and still.
After a while, an older woman, maybe fifty or so, dressed in a too-tight black latex minidress and thigh-high boots slid onto the stool on Kenny’s other side. Leaning across him, she addressed Sophia. “This boy toy belong to you?”
“No, ma’am,” Sophia replied, infected by Kenny’s southern accent. “I do believe he’s available.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kenny agreed eagerly, swiveling toward his potential Mistress.
She looped her finger in the O-ring on his collar and pulled him closer. “Get on your knees, boy, and tell me why I should consider you.”
When she let go of the collar, Kenny slipped at once from the stool and knelt up, hands behind his back, eager as a puppy dog.
With a rueful grin, Sophia gulped the rest of her drink, set down her glass and rose from the stool. “Have fun,” she said to the pair, who now only had eyes for each other.
She thought about returning to the dungeon for a little action. But the drink had gone to her head and she was tired. Back inside the resort, she selected a homemade cookie from the plate on the reservation counter and went up to her room. Once inside, she lay on her bed, still fully clothed, and munched on the delicious butterscotch oatmeal cookie. She pulled the phone from her pocket and set it on the nightstand.
If and when Nick texted, he could come down to her. She would get up in a minute to get changed and wash up. But first, she would just close her eyes for a little while…
Chapter 5
Nick awoke with a start. He lifted his head, groaning aloud at the painful crick in his neck. He was still seated at the desk in his hotel suite, the laptop open beside a pad of paper covered in his messy scrawl. It was dark outside. Where was his phone?
He glanced over the desk and lifted the pad of paper as he massaged his sore neck. No phone. Pushing back the chair, he finally spotted it under the desk. He leaned down to retrieve it. A glance at the screen showed him the time: 2:35 AM.
