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"Okay, well, first of all, that's not what he's into, so that won't happen. Second, what the fuck have you been researching?"
"I read," she says with a shrug.
"What do you read?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
I make a mental note to get my hands on her Kindle as soon as humanly possible because, yes, I absolutely do want to know what kinky shit she's reading.
"Third, Micah has never been with anyone at the club, so it's highly unlikely you'll see him with anyone. Chances are, you'll never have to worry about any of the things you're stressing yourself out about. So stop stressing."
"Easy for you to…" She trails off blinking. "You mean never? As in never ever?"
"Never."
"Wow. Why?"
"Not my business." I see the look on her face and narrow my eyes. "And it's not yours either, Gemma. Leave it alone."
"But aren't you the tiniest bit curious?"
"Nope."
"Why not?"
"Because I was never with anyone either. You can be part of the community without jumping into bed with everyone, beautiful. Being a member of the club doesn't automatically mean you're there to sleep around. Some people come simply for the community. It's nice to have a place where you can be yourself and know you won't be judged no matter what kinky shit you're into."
"I guess I didn't think about that," she says. "Are there a lot of people who come but not participate?"
"Sometimes. Some come just to see and be seen. Others come just to make friends within the community. Others want to play. The club is open for everyone."
"I guess I won't quit my job," she says. "But I reserve the right to change my mind if I see his butt, Bronx."
"Fair enough," I say, chuckling.
We fall quiet as the waitress—a young blonde with big blue eyes—approaches to take our order.
"Hi, Gemma."
"Hi, Davina." Gemma beams at her. "Oh! Davina, this is Bronx. Bronx, this is Davina. She lives down the street."
"Hey."
"Hi," Davina says, giving me a shy smile.
"Davina just started here. I know because I'm here all the time." Gemma laughs. "I hate cooking."
"You don't like to cook, beautiful?"
"Well, not exactly." She makes a face at me. "It's more like Heidi got all the skills in the kitchen. My food tastes like prison food."
"You don't even know what prison food tastes like."
"I might. I could be an escaped convict. You don't know."
I snort, shaking my head. "If you'd been to prison, you wouldn't have escaped, Dilemma. You'd be running the fucking place."
"Yeah, that's true." She smiles happily.
