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Fuck. I hope they don’t think I was fired because I’m an idiot. Their silence pulls my head back up.
Paige crosses her arms, her scowl deepening as she awaits my explanation. And because I’d rather they think I was a victim than incompetent, I fill in the blanks. “The head of the fashion house made a pass at me. And when I rejected him, twice, he doubled down and assaulted me.” The voice that comes out of my mouth is calm, clinical, sanitized, a far cry from the raging lava coursing through my veins.
The horror on my friend’s faces turns my stomach. It only grows when I tell them that I got fired, block-listed, and no one in the industry will take my call.
I’m nuclear.
I’m not even sure this is a “just hang tight for a while and things will calm down” level DEFCON. I think it might be the DEFCON-IEST of DEFCONS that ever DEFCONNED.
Maybe Ishouldhave just shut up and taken it.
When I tell them I messed up and signed a lease for an apartment I couldn’treallyafford, they cringe. Then I tell them the person I wassupposedto be sharing the place with has bailed on me leaving me holding the baby, and the contract, well, let’s just say they’re giving me the look my parents give me when they’re trying not to outwardly call me a screw up.
It takes an entire game of pool before my friends permit me to change the subject and talk about something that isn’t me and my dumpster fire mess of a life. I’ve been waiting for days to corner Kenz and get her to tell us everything about the delicious dominant with the pierced peen she’s been dating. She’s been evasive in text messages. Here and now, there’s no escape.
“So hold on a second.” Paige lines up the white ball on the pool table before striking it with her cue. The white strikes the tip of the triangle of colored balls, scattering them across the table. She spins to point an accusing finger at Kenzie. “You’re admitting to dating him now?” I don’t know how she hasn’t figured this out before now, but she’s finally on the same page as the rest of us.
Kenzie goes from creamy, clear skin, to red and blotchy cheeks and chest in a matter of seconds. “I… no. Yes. Maybe?”
“Oh. She’s dating him.” I snort. She’s been dating him for ages. My money’s on them moving in together any day now. We’ve known for a while she’swithhim, but she’s been in denial.
“There’s no way he gets her this befuddled if there wasn’t something there.” Picking up my drink, I raise it high. “And this is where I say, ‘called it.’” I totally called it. Austin, the tall, dark, handsome, hockey playing dominant isn’t being subtle about his long-term intentions for our sweet, southern belle Kenzie. She’s seemingly so clueless that when it comes to flirting, he could walk up to her and smack her with it, and she’d still not see it.
“We haven’t even been on a date yet. You can’t claim ‘called it’ when you said ‘romance of the century.’ And don’t think I missed that use of befuddled.”
“Yet.” Paige picks up her drink and takes a long gulp as I line up my cue and take a shot. The ball sails past the pocket and bounces off the green velvet edge of the table. “And I’m with Adi, befuddled is a great word.”
Paige lines up her next shot. “So you’re thinking about dating?”
Mackenzie nods, her face still rosy.
“She’s thinking about more than dating. She’s thinking about the bow-chica-wow-wow that comes after the date. Am-I-right?” I don’t need to ask the question, I’m definitely right. I just like the way her face goes a brighter shade of red.
“He wants you to keep a journal, with sexy things and not sexy things in it, right?” Paige pockets the ball with ease.
Whereas I, on the other hand, miss yet another shot. “I hate how good you are at this game, Paige.” I turn my attention back to Kenzie. “Like what? What kind of things does he want you to journal? Does he read them? Or does he just get you to empty your brain out on paper?”
“He doesn’t expect to read my journaling, but I let him sometimes. It’s nice to write down my fears and worries, like writing them down takes them away from the noise in my mind, and I can set them aside.”
I’ve never been in a dynamic like that before, but I have kinks, and I’m open minded. And I most definitely love a man with a strong hand. On my ass. Maybe even with a paddle, or a crop, or... something. Mmmm. One of my exes was pretty good at the spanking thing.
Now I’m distracted by the idea of being bent over this pool table while Thor spanks me with a paddle, or his hand, or a crop, or a cane, the fucking pool cue, anything that leaves beautifully colored mottled bruises across the soft flesh of my ass. Fuck. I need to come.
“You mean your competitive streak hates how shit you are at this game. He wants her to record shit like edging, plugging, nutrition, that kind of thing. Dude probably saw the graveyard of Big Gulp cups in her office and figured she needed a glass of water from time to time.”
Kenzie is about eighty-three percent sweet tea. “Excuse you.”
“I’m not wrong.” Paige shrugs, leaning on the cue clutched between her hands. “A good dom’s world often revolves around his submissive. Knowing she is properly cared for starts with her caring for herself.”
She spins back to the table to take her turn. “If he doesn’t know you’re well hydrated and well nourished, how is he supposed to tie you up and make you his sexy slave for hours on end?”
Kenzie smacks Paige’s forearm. “Would you shut up?” Another thwap. “People might hear you!”
I can’t help the whoop sound that comes out of my mouth. Our girl is so vanilla that even the thought of him tying her up and making her come for hours is foreign to her. But I could totally see her leaning into it and giving it a shot. She’s nothing if not curious. I am so excited for her. This is going to be a steep learning curve, but I know in my bones that she’s going to love it.
“So what if they do?” Paige takes another shot, bagging yet another ball, and making me cuss under my breath. I hate losing. “The dude kissed you in the middle of the grocery store, Kenz. He talked through basic kink with you—and you didn’t run away.” She points her cue at Kenzie. “That means you’re in enough to give it a shot.”
Speaking of shots, I miss another one, which snaps something inside me. I stamp my foot before running my hand along the shiny wooden edge. “I feel like the table is uneven or something.”
