Author: Kitty Jones
Category: Young Adult
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“Taylor has a long-term partner. Hank. The guy in the wheelchair.”
“He was injured a few months ago,” someone else offers. “Mallory is just their stand-in while Hank recovers.”
So that’s why the non-active partner was sitting with her while the Dominant cleaned up after the scene. He was helping with aftercare while the Dominant took care of everything else. Taylor wasn’t abandoning her the way I thought he was, and they weren’t topping her together, the way I suspected they might have been. It was one Dom and one sub: not two Doms.
“It’s an unusual arrangement, but it works for them.”
“They’re all friends. They’ve known each other for awhile.”
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“Nobody judges them here.”
“And nobody interrupts their scenes.”
They all look at me again, almost expectantly. Suddenly, I’m glad I’m a Dom and not a sub, because something tells me that if I pulled this kind of bratty behavior as a submissive, I’d be the one strapped to that bench and having my ass beat.
“Understood,” I say.
The Dommes seem satisfied, and they turn to one another and continued speaking, effectively excusing me, which is fine. Slowly, I head to my car and climb inside, but then I sit there for a very long time.
It was a mistake to come here tonight, but I wanted to see her. I hadn’t planned on moving back to the area at all, hadn’t planned on drumming up old connections. I hadn’t planned on meeting with people I knew long ago, and I definitely hadn’t planned on meeting with a woman like Mallory.
When we parted ways, I suspected it was probably forever, but then, I’ve never really been one to listen to fate.
No matter how loudly it yells at me, I just can’t seem to listen.
Fuck.
I slap the steering wheel hard and finally, I pull out of the parking lot and head home. I need to go home and feed my cat. Then I’ll go to bed, wake up, and head to work. Everything will look better in the morning, and maybe I won’t feel like such a fuckhead.
Chapter Three
Mallory
“I heard something juicy happened last night at the club,” Tabitha slides into the chair across from mine and rests her hands on the break room table.
“It’s not what you think,” I tell her, biting into my turkey-and-cheese sandwich. It’s not the best lunch I’ve ever had, but it’s good enough for a workday. I’ve been packing my own meals because I want to be healthier and save money. Traveling isn’t something I do enough of, and I want all of that to change. If a few simple lifestyle choices enable me to do that, then, well, I’m going to do it.
“No?” She raises a perfectly waxed eyebrow and stares at me like she doesn’t believe a single thing I just said.
“No,” I shake my head.
“Then what is it?” She asks. “Because it sounds like someone from your past waltzed into the club, was pissed at Hank and Taylor, and tried to start trouble.”
“Oh,” I said, looking back at my sandwich. Then I look back up at my colleague. “Then yeah, that’s exactly what happened.”
“What!?” She screeches. A couple of teachers from across the room look over at us. Tabitha gives an apologetic little wave and turns back to me. Lowering her voice so no one can hear, she whispers, “So what happened? Dish.”
“You already know everything.”
Well, not everything.
She doesn’t know who Aaron is.
She doesn’t know that I was wildly in love with him or that he turned me down.
She doesn’t know that he’s the whole reason I’m into BDSM in the first place.
“Seems fake.”