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TWO
Jarradek
Maurice slides the beer across the dark wooden counter of the Monster Bar and gives me a nod, making a few strands of his shaggy blond hair fall into his eyes. “What’s happening, Jarra? How’s things?”
I shrug, accept the beer, and take a long drink before setting it back on the bar. “Same old. Nothing new.” I sigh. Even the beer tastes old and dry somehow. Lately, nothing tastes good, feels good.
The blond werewolf pauses in the act of slicing lemons and gives me a look. “You’re looking down in the mouth, my friend. What’s eating you?”
I scratch the base of one curved horn. “That’s just it. I don’t know. Can’t put my finger on it.” Nothing is really wrong, per se. Things have been going so well that maybe I’ve started taking them for granted? “I’m just in a bit of a rut.”
He gives me a wink. “Well, you’re in the right place, then. Time for some excitement. You haven’t made a booking in a while. Why not see who’s new?”
“Eh.” I take another long drink. “What’s the point? They’ll all be the same. The workers here are very good, but they’re all so...” I wave my hand in the air, trying to put my finger on what the problem is. “...so accommodating. They’re so eager to please.”
Maurice cocks an eyebrow at me. “And you don’t want that?”
I huff. It sounds ridiculous, but I don’t. I’m bored of that. Bored of the girls who throw themselves at me because minotaurs are flavor of the month right now in Heartstone. I’m bored of sweet, good girls who I pay to do exactly what I tell them. Hell, I’m bored of thinking up what I want them to do. “The thing is, I spend all day giving commands, telling people what to do. And everyone jumps to obey me.”
Maurice nods. “Sounds to me like you need to find yourself a domme.”
I stare at him. I’ve never considered that option. It’s not like I have an objection to women in power. Hell, some of the strongest, smartest creatures I know are female. I just never considered looking for that in my sex life.
“I...” I can’t think of any good reason why I shouldn’t at least give it a try. “Why not?”
The werewolf grins back at me. “Trust me, you’ll never look back. Actually, pretty sure we have someone new on the books who might have some experience. What are you into? Chains, cages, pegging?”
His sharp-toothed grin is way, way too enthusiastic. “Ahhh...” I scratch the base of my horn again. “Maybe this is a bad idea. I really just want a woman who’s going to boss me around a bit. I don’t know about all that other stuff.”
Maurice winks. “Hey, don’t knock it til you tried it.”
At my horrified snort, he lifts his hands, palm up. “Hey, hey. Don’t freak out, man. I get it. I’ll talk to Sofia. We’ll find you someone.”
I tug at the collar of my custom-made business shirt. I might have bitten off more than I could chew. But what the hell. Nothing like a challenge to cure boredom, right? “Just make sure she’s discreet,” I tell him. “I can’t have this leaked to the media.”
He nods seriously. “We’ll put it in the contract. Don’t worry about it.”
Fuck, the last thing I need right now is the Heartstone Sun blasting all across town how the first monster to ever run for Mayor is a kinky freak. Not that I’ve got anything against people who’re into that stuff. Cearly. Maurice is a mate of mine. But I’ve got slim chances of winning as it is. I don’t need to create another uphill battle for myself. I can trust Maurice, though. He’s a good guy. I’ve been coming to the Monster Bar since I first moved here ten years ago, back when it was a secret venue just for supes. Now that we’re out and humans know about us, Sofia’s business has boomed and things are always busy, but Maurice and Sofia always have time for me.
I linger for another drink, but things get busy and Maurice is run off his feet when a hen’s night group makes an appearance. Monsters still might be considered a novelty, but at least to lots of people we’re no longer the enemy. I watch the ladies for a while. They laugh and drink and flirt with the supes at the bar. When one of the bridesmaids makes eyes at me, though, I pay my bill and say my goodbyes. I do not need to be another human girl’s popping-my-monster-cherry one night stand. Nine times out of ten, they see my massive cock and can’t go through with it anyway.
I shove my hands in my pockets and lean into the wind as I walk around the block to where my driver parked. The city’s cold this time of year with bitter evening winds that cut right through a jacket. My penthouse apartment feels cold when I get home and step through the door, despite the passive climate control. Maybe it’s just me, but the place feels more empty these days. Stupid thought. I haven’t lived with anyone since I was a stripling calf and living with my parents on the ranch out west.
Despondent, I head for my office and switch on my computer. I flick through ten new emails I don’t feel like reading. I should, though. I’m behind. I’m always behind these days. I feel like I’m chasing my tail.
It doesn’t help that I somehow talked myself into running for mayor. All that’s done is ramp up media attention, and give all the staff I hired for the campaign a reason to tell me not to have any fun.
