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“How long have you and Dirk been together?”
“Twelve years now. I shot my first husband.” She made a face. “Sorry. I like to blurt that out, maybe because it still makes me feel good. Not because I shot someone, but because it was when I became who I really wanted to be.”
“Now you’re going to have to tell me that story.”
Less humorous things gripped Lisa’s expression, but her tone remained matter-of-fact. “It was so long ago. I was young and stupid, looking for a Master before I knew I was looking for one. So I chose an abusive asshole instead. He made good money, and I thought I’d married up, so I took the abuse, trying to please him, trying to fix him, trying to forgive him. Then I got pregnant. When he punched me in the face in my sixth month, I fell down the stairs. He tried to grab me, I’ll give him that, but he missed.”
Lisa’s gaze shifted onto Dirk and held, a reminder of the here and now. “When he drove me home from the hospital, I had three cards for domestic abuse shelters in my purse. From the nurse, the doctor, and the EMT. I held onto them, and told my husband, “That’s it. You raise a hand against my baby ever again, I will shoot you dead.”
She shook her head. “I know what you’re thinking. Why the hell did I go home with him at all? I thought because I’d made a stand and meant it, it would change something. The next time he tried to get rough with me, I ran into our bedroom, and locked the door. He was beating on it, screaming at me to open up or he’d kick my ass. I told him to leave the house, or I’d shoot him through the door with his own gun. He didn’t believe me.”
She glanced over her shoulder at Les. “I wasn’t that great of a shot, but I did get him in the shoulder. He got the hell out of the house.”
“Good for you.”
“Yeah.” Her eyes showed sadness. “But my baby was born with a deformed leg. Sheila is my gem. She’s the much older sister to the two I had with Dirk before my ovaries said enough already. She’s a middle school teacher. But she was born that way because I didn’t act sooner.”
She took a breath. “That beer incident with Dirk? That happened early, when we were both learning about the Dom and sub stuff. We wanted it, fiercely, but something about how he told me to get him a beer that day—he’d had a bad day and was cranky—brought some of that dark stuff boiling back up. I was rejecting what I’d once been, everything about myself that had put me in that position with my first husband. Dumping the beer on Dirk’s head wasn’t so much a message to Dirk as it was to me. Never again. We laugh about it now, but we both learned a lot that day.”
Les squeezed her shoulder, the woman’s manner making it easy to initiate the contact. “You should work in an ER. The victims they see could get some inspiration from you.”
“I volunteer for a domestic abuse shelter. I even lead one of the weekly group discussions.” Lisa’s gaze changed from sober reflection to pure female speculation, her brown eyes dancing as she aimed them toward Les.
“Brick is a really experienced Dom, but he’s never bound himself to a woman. He looks like he’s thinking about it pretty hard with you.”
At Les’s expression, Lisa put a hand to her mouth in comic dismay. “Please tell me you’re not shocked to hear that, or Dirk’s going to beat me, and Brick’s going to help him. But I’m like that. Shooting off my mouth when I know I shouldn’t.”
“No, you’re good. He’s told me something similar. I’m still working on digesting it.” Les wrapped the band Lisa had provided around the tail of her now braided hair.
“Yeah, I get that. When you see how well known he is in this group, it makes you sort through the whole, ‘okay, am I just one of many, or am I special?’ thing in your head. It’s hard to know how to take, being the latest in line.”
Les blinked. She hadn’t really thought of it that way, and didn’t want to. Not until Lisa squeezed her hand and gave her a direct look. “But there’s a big difference between being the latest and being the last. The one he’s been waiting for.”
“I’m feeling so much tonight, it’s consuming all my brain cells. I’m afraid of following that feeling and having to walk it back.”
Lisa grinned. “I get that. I remember my first sub experiences. And Dirk is the sexiest man in the universe to me, but I’m not blind or dead. Brick would make any woman’s heart trip faster, and he wants you. That said… I love that man of yours to death, and I know, if you don’t want the same thing, he’ll do nothing but respect that, because that’s who he is.”
Before Les could reply—though she wasn’t sure if Lisa was looking for a response—Brick turned toward them. He gestured at Les. She touched Lisa’s shoulder. “You okay for a minute?”
“Oh sure. Go see what he needs.”
Dirk was headed toward them, and nodded to Les as they passed one another. “My mama okay?”
“Yes. Anxious, but in the right ways.”
When Les reached Brick, he drew her close and kissed her. She gave herself to it, let herself be lost in his mouth and touch, as he gripped her upper arms. When he eased back, he asked Dirk’s question a different way. “How’s she doing?”
“She’s excited, a little nervous.” Though Lisa had laughed and chatted, Les had sensed those nerves beneath, revealed by higher notes to her laughter.
“Good job, doc. That information helps.” He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out it, revealing the tank he’d worn beneath it. He handed her the shirt. “In that dress, you might get a little chilly out here. I want you sitting there.” He pointed to the section of wall behind the table. “You okay while I go talk to her?”
“Yes.” She slipped into the shirt, liking the heat of his body. “Lisa says you’ve never committed yourself to a woman here, but you’re acting like that’s about to change.”
His lips quirked. “That sure as hell better not be a news flash to you, but damn that busybody. I love her, but I’m going to have Dirk beat her ass.”
“That’s what she said you’d say. She also says she loves you to pieces, and you’d respect wherever my feelings went on our relationship.”
“I will. But I’ll also do my damnedest to get you to agree with mine.”
