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“Part of being a member of the club is submitting to monthly STD testing,” Phantom says, his voice irritated. “You have nothing to concern yourself with.”
“My God, I didn’t even think of that!” I shake my head. “The entire world is imploding.”
“Which is why I think we should wait,” he says.
“So you won’t be here tomorrow night, then? Looking for someone else to play with?”
“Didn’t I just promise you earlier that while you and I are playing together, I won’t play with anyone else?”
He did, of course. Just… Seeing Penn… I’m not thinking straight.
“I don’t know. I need to go home.”
“All right.”
I pull my credit card out of my purse. “I have to pay for that Diet Coke I ordered.”
“Don’t worry about that. I had Alfred put it on my tab.”
I sniffle. “That’s kind of you. Thank you.”
“Let me take you home,” he says.
“I… I’m usually more careful than that. I don’t let anyone know where I live when I don’t know his name.”
“If I tell you my name, will you let me see you home?”
“Will you take off your mask?”
“No. But I will give you my name. That is, my first name.”
I sigh. “All right. But I don’t know why you need to take me home. I can easily catch a cab or an Uber.”
“Because I want to know that you got there safely. I want to see you to your door and make sure you get in. You’re distraught right now, Frankie, and I want to know you’re safe.”
His words could so easily be a silver-tongued lie, but I believe him. Against my better judgment, I believe him.
“All right. Thank you for your concern…Phantom.”
He kisses my cheek, and tingles float through me. “It’s Hunter,” he says. “My name is Hunter.”
Hunter.
Such a sexy and masculine name. “Hunter,” I echo.
“Francesca,” he says.
“I detest the name Francesca. You seem to like to call me by my given name, but please just make it Frankie.”
“Okay. Frankie it is. But Francesca is so beautiful. It fits you.”
“It’s not beautiful. It’s ugly. It means Frenchman.”
“Where did you get that idea?”
“I looked it up once.”
“Probably on some search engine and you just believed the first thing you read.”
“Well…maybe.”
“You should know, then, that Francesca simply means free. And free is a beautiful thing. Free to be who you are. I think Pendleton Berry was most likely holding you back.”
“That’s a given.”
“You’re free of him now. Free to be who you’re meant to be. Would the Frankie who was with Penn ever think about entering such a club?”
“No. And I guess he knew that, too, because he certainly never invited me there.”
“You came willingly with me.”
“That’s different. I was looking for something. For excitement.”
“I believe you were, but I also believe you’re not the type of woman who normally would go to a private club with someone you just met.”
“And who wears a mask,” I add.
“Precisely.”
I laugh. Sort of. Then I meet his gaze. “How do you know what my name means?”
“I’m a student of language.”
I smile. “You just revealed something about yourself.”
He returns my smile. “So I did.”
“So what do you do, then?”
“Does it matter? Anyone can be a student of language. Perhaps I’m a mechanic who fixes cars all day but who also loves the study of language and beauty.”
“Anyone can appreciate that sort of thing, but somehow I don’t see you as a mechanic.”
“Why?”
I grab one of his hands. “There’s not a speck of dirt under these fingernails.”
He smiles. “Observant.”
I lightly caress his hand. “Your hands, while they’re very clean, are clearly not professionally manicured.”
“True.”
“Which means…you probably don’t come from wealth.”
“I know several men who come from wealth,” he says, “and none of them get professional manicures.”
“Penn used to.”
“I’m glad I don’t, then. I don’t want to ever remind you of him.”
“God, you don’t. You’re everything that Penn isn’t.”
“Although we both appear to be members of the same club.” He looks around.
“I suppose we shouldn’t be talking about this.”
“Not at the bar, anyway.” He rises from his stool. “Let me take you home, Frankie.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Hunter
Hunter is my name.
I considered giving her a fake name, but I did promise to reveal it, and lying didn’t feel right. I wanted her to know my real name, just as I know hers.
Francesca.
I love that name, but she doesn’t, so I’ll call her Frankie.
Because I want to please her.
I want to please this woman more than I’ve ever wanted to please another. And that’s saying a lot for me because as a Dominant, it’s imperative that I please my submissive.
Frankie will be a good submissive.
But I’m not thinking of her in that way. At least not solely in that way. I’m already considering her to be more than a playmate.
It’s frightening but also invigorating.
So invigorating that I actually gave her my own first name. She now knows more about me than any woman I’ve been with in the last several years.
