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Or that the first time he heard Maryshka calling out to Red, giving him shit about something and getting a shoutedfuck youin response, his chest had gotten tight? He’d had to stand with his back to them, pretending to look for a tool, until he pulled his shit together.
No, he shouldn’t feel guilty. Of course not. But why hadn’t he shared things like that with Skye, when he’d shared so much with her?
She’d looked nothing but interested and pleased for him when he’d told her his hearing was coming back. Like a Mistress would look. Like the Mistress with whom he’d shared scheduled sessions every other week for the past year. A Mistress who’d gone back to communicating with him the same way she had before the accident. Why did that feel off to him?
Maybe that was his problem to deal with, what it meant. He’d think about it some, but he could also talk to her about it. Right?
Sure,he texted.See you there.
He took the Street Glide. Rumbling into the parking lot felt good, seeing familiar people getting out of their vehicles and heading into the world they all knew. As he put his gloves away, shouldered his bag and strode toward the entrance, he nodded to a few of them. He pulled out his phone and adjusted the hearing aids for restaurant mode, figuring that was the best setting for a BDSM club. The static sound was dying down,but sometimes it got together with white noise in a busy environment and turned his head into a beehive.
Inside, he went to the locker room, did a fist and shoulder bump with Sy, and caught up on things. Then he came to a full stop when Sy told him something he didn’t expect. Tiger closed his locker carefully, turned around and faced him. “Care to repeat that?”
Sy gave him a curious look. “I said, there’s a new sub tonight stirring up the Mistresses. Good looking, decent-seeming bloke. Friend of Lil Bit and Charlie, up from Florida.”
“Yeah, I got that. What was the part about Skye?”
“Skye and Vera tag-teamed him, finished up about a half hour ago. They did it private, but he said they put him through his paces. He liked Vera, but couldn’t get into having a Mistress that couldn’t talk. I told him if he trusts Skye, learns how to go with it, she’ll rock his world. Doubt he will, though. You know it takes a sub with a particular mindset to appreciate her approach.” Sy shrugged.
Tiger scowled. “Did the asshole say that to her?”
“Probably didn’t have to. She always knows. Seen it happen plenty of times to her before. You have, too.”
No. He hadn’t. Because he mostly hung with subs who appreciated her as he did. Those who saw their sessions with a Mistress as a chance to push the boundaries of what they expected or knew.
He struggled with his anger that anyone couldn’t value that. On top of that was a snarled tangle of feelings about her having a session with someone else.
That was when it clicked. What was before was…before. She’d steered them back toward who they’d been, and he wasn’t sure he wanted that.
They should have met before tonight and had an in-depth conversation about it. He would have liked to be asked how hefelt about it before she made that decision. As a Mistress to him in these walls, maybe she had the right to make that decision. If they were more, outside these walls, then no. No, she didn’t have the right to be that unilateral.
Walls were an artificial construct. Feelings were real. And he could tear those walls down with what he was feeling right now.
“You okay?” Sy asked.
Tiger thought about that quick flick of the fingers she could do, spellingOandK. Or how she asked if he was all right, with that forward and back tip of the side of her hand against her other palm before she pointed to him.
“Yeah,” he said. And slammed the locker door.
He went to the room she’d reserved for them. He usually stripped down to his shorts before he knelt on the mat she left for him. She always made sure that was there, to protect his knees. He would put his fist to the floor, bow his head, make that mental shift. Once she joined him, they’d take a journey together.
He'd never had a problem connecting with her. Understanding what she wanted. His first time in a room with her, she and Abby had done the session together. Abby had handled a lot of the communication, but as the session progressed, she’d turned even more of it over to Skye. They’d been testing his responsiveness to her, how he handled her way of communicating. Like she and Vera had done tonight with the other sub. The other Mistresses helped Skye vet the subs and see how open they were to how she did things.
How had he never paid attention to that? Realized how many of the subs took a pass?
Probably a good idea he hadn’t noticed, because now he wanted to take the shallow prick from Florida out in the parking lot and beat his ass for not realizing what he was missing. Oh,and finish it up with a good head pound on the pavement to say that’s not yours, and don’t fucking forget it.
In a club, Doms and subs clicked or they didn’t, due to personality, limits, and preferences, that kind of thing. Everyone was required to be mature about it, be courteous and kind, but clear and firm, too. She would put those subs’ rejection in that category, but it still pissed him off.
She could handle her own shit, and did it well. She probably saw herself as having left the hurt of such stumbling blocks behind. She just took it in stride and considered it an efficient elimination process, so she didn’t waste her time on someone she couldn’t connect with.
He thought of the veteran at the races, avoiding further conversation with Tiger because it made him uncomfortable or was too inconvenient. She’d learned a long time ago to accept that, deal with it and move on.
But he knew firsthand now that it didn’t erase the gut punch reminder that silence cut you off from a lot of things.
He felt that anger on her behalf, yet when she opened the door, he realized he was also pissed at her. Maybe he should call this off. He hadn’t expected to be in this kind of emotional turmoil, but finding out she’d been in a session earlier had boiled forth some of his conflicted feelings about how she was treating this and what it meant.
He hadn’t changed clothes yet, but he moved forward to the mat she’d left for him and dropped to one knee. Bowed his head. If he focused, maybe he could make the shift and push that shit out of the room. The clothes could come off later.
