8. April 13th

APRIL 13TH

TB

He was sittingat the bar in his usual seat to the right of the service station when Tabitha sashayed up to it. She was waiting for the bartender to hand her a champagne bucket and tray of glasses, but for some odd reason, she didn't look at him.

He fit in with the rest of the men in the club, but he was not like them—a thin, black leather jacket, black button-down shirt, black jeans, black cowboy boots. His dark hair was cut short but was long enough on top to be mussed, and his beard had probably two days worth of growth, all of which made him look cleanly disheveled. Some people might think he was catering to the broody type that women saw as a challenge. He wasn't. The outfit was his standard go-to ever since he abandoned the Israeli army ten years ago.

"Pretend I'm not talking to you," Tabitha said as she continued to face forward. "She's about twenty feet behind you at the high table. Cream-colored outfit. Lots of red hair."

TB took a long swallow of water. His right elbow propped on the bar, his fingers dangled the tumbler glass, and then he began a casual perusal of the club's bar area from near the door. He rested a few places as if he were checking out the women, then finally fell on the woman Tabitha described.

Whoa.

She was all softness, curves, and sugar. Someone, somewhere, was offering him a reward that he didn't deserve, but damn them if he wasn't going to take it anyway.

He should move his glance on, but he couldn't pull his eyes away. Then her eyes met his, and even from this distance, he knew her pupils had dilated, and her heart rate had sped up. Inside his head, he heard her soft gasp.

He knew he was too intense for most people, and right now, he felt like he had her trapped, as if she were a butterfly pinned inside a shadowbox. He raised his glass and drained it dry, his eyes never leaving hers. Finally, he turned his attention away from her, placed his glass on the bar, and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. "Thanks," he said to Tabitha, his back to Flame. He removed a bill from his wallet, flagged Ryleigh with it, and laid it on the bar.

She winked at him as she set the bucket down on the bar for Tabitha and pocketed her tip before heading over to a customer waiting to order.

"Lobo," Tabitha warned. "This wasn't part of the original bargain when I connected you two together for her research, but I am granting you this meeting because I know both of you well, and she assured me she was okay with it. Don't make me regret it."

"I got this. Not my first rodeo," he reminded her.

"Overall, that's true, but you've always detested being with new submissives, so?—"

"She's different," he interrupted. "I don't know why, but she is."

Tabitha's mouth pursed. "Don't catch feelings, Lobo. She's too innocent for you."

He didn't dignify that with a response. He knew his Flame.

Without another glance at the beacon in cream, he walked through the throng of people pouring off the dance floor when the DJ announced she was taking a break. He made his way to the back of the club where Tripoli, tonight's doorman, let him through to the more private portion of the club.

Christ,I am so fucked. Not interacting with her, my ass.

He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it in the wardrobe cabinet. Unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt, he then rolled the cuffs, exposing his forearms and the wide leather bands around his wrists that bore wolf heads centered on silver plates.

His brain drifted into plans for the evening, and he realized that he was feeling greedy. He wanted one night where he wasn't working an angle. One night to just be. He deserved that, didn't he? Tonight, he would make it all about her needs.

Don't you mean yours, asshole?

Fine. It'll be about us. No job. No missing girls. Just us.

Next time. Next time would be soon enough to begin utilizing her for cover around the club. Damn right, he'd enjoy himself for once. And he was justified in doing that because making tonight about her needs would cement the trust she'd developed for him online into trust for him, the person, which would ultimately set him up for the assignment.

Which means you're going to betray that trust. Classic dick move. Just tell her the truth. She'd be all over that shit. Probably make it the plot for her next book.

He shook the thought away. It went against all the etiquette of a Dom/sub relationship to have ulterior motives, but in this case, it couldn't be helped. Besides that, it was too dangerous to get her involved. He needed to think of it as a project with her as a mark and him as the facilitator. Tribe had been hired to find Tilly Moll and the other missing women. The job always came first, and everything else was second. As his team leader was fond of saying, "Tribe always wins."

You're an idiot. Whether she knows she's involved or not, it's still dangerous to her. That part doesn't change.

Yeah, but if she doesn't know, then she'll just be curious instead of nosey.

Now you're really being an idiot. You think a kidnapper's going to stop and consider the difference?

That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

You're not just an idiot, you're delusional.

Shut up.

You're going to lose her! Then you'll be just like your boss and his crabby ass.

He's in love. I'm not. I'm just… intrigued.

I'm not talking to you anymore.

TB snorted. He waited. The voices appeared to have stopped.

Thank fuck his situation wasn't life-altering like Waters' situation was. That man was being forced to choose between love and death. Love, meaning a real shot at happiness. Death, meaning… Well, being without her would suck the life right out of him as sure as if their boss enforced his final edict and terminated him. Literally. Choosing to walk away would just make it a slow, painful death versus whatever method God chose to retire an employee.

Either way, TB promised himself his assignment wasn't going to be the shitshow that Waters' assignment had been. TB would go undercover, using Flame to gather intel and find the missing women. The bonus was that he'd be required to hang out at the kink club and engage in some activities to make it look good, which in turn helped Flame with her research, and he'd be able to work this woman out of his system. A woman who was far too sweet and innocent for the likes of him. When the assignment was over, they'd go their separate ways. Easy enough.

What's that saying Waters used to use? "The only easy day was yesterday." You're going to get burned, buddy.

He closed his eyes and sighed. Apparently, the voices weren't done.

Was his subconscious trying to tell him that he wanted more with Flame? He certainly looked forward to talking to her. Some days, it took every ounce of his control to refrain from taking their conversations past texts and chats.

Was he just feeling pangs because of watching Waters become the happiest he'd ever known him? It was probably natural to see happiness like that and be jealous of not having it himself.

Was he balking at pushing forward because his co-worker was currently drowning in his own misery? It certainly didn't appear that those few weeks of being happy were worth what the man was going through now. His team leader was worse now than he'd been for the previous two years after his capture and subsequent rescue.

More importantly, TB wondered if he was capable of maintaining a relationship, given his proclivities in the bedroom. Relationships meant compromise. Compromise meant giving up control.

Just the thought of that gave him the chills.

He wasn't so ignorant to think that a committed relationship couldn't utilize elements of BDSM to make it function better. But in his experience, there had never been anything romantic about tying someone up, spanking them, or any of the other aspects of the lifestyle. He had to admit, there were probably Dominants out there who believed that a submissive surrendering control to them brought some elevated level to the relationship.

TB had never wanted a relationship before. Never even gave it a thought based on his disaster of a past. His damage wasn't the same as Waters' had been. Similar, maybe. People left. Even when they didn't want to.

The slithering snake of unease he'd been feeling before burst into an explosion of baby snakes going every which way. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. After holding it for a few seconds, he let it out in a controlled exhale.

Time enough to worry about this later. Stick to the plan. Enjoy tonight. Proceed with the job tomorrow. Maybe tonight will give you a better perspective.

He opened his eyes and looked closer at the room. It looked like a French salon out of Louis XVI's era. A chaise lounge in cream upholstery and gilded wood. A pink and cream striped matching chair, wider than a typical armchair. A pink velvet loveseat. All three pieces were in a semi-circle around the edge of a square, cream-colored floor rug that lay in front of a three-paneled standing mirror.

He knew Flame was nervous about tonight based on their conversation the previous night. An all-over romantic atmosphere would probably help turn her nerves into arousal on the sharp point of a knife. Themed rooms were too close to roleplay for him. He was very clear on what he needed, and he didn't need to be someone else to achieve it. However, he did recognize that it might be easier for her in this environment. She needed permission to let go, and while he'd managed to create that online for her, in person would be more challenging. If the themed room helped, who was he to argue?

A knock came at the door.

He rolled his neck from one side to the other, allowing some of the tightness to leave his shoulders. He crossed to the door. Before opening it, he took in another deep breath, then exhaled.

When the door opened, Tabitha was one step behind and a half step to the left of her charge. His eyes met Flame's, and he heard the swift intake of breath. It was stunning to watch her emerald eyes widen in shock and her pupils fog in desire as she recognized him from the shared glance on the main floor.

"Lobo, I bring you Flame," Tabitha said.

"Thank you, Tabitha." TB opened the door wider, and Tabitha waited for Flame to make the choice to enter the room. Neither she nor TB would urge her to do so or give her an out. The choice was hers, as all choices ultimately would be.

He watched the indecision cross her face. Her lungs filled with air, then she expelled it with a small shudder, and she stepped over the threshold. Once she was clear of the door, TB nodded at Tabitha as he closed it gently yet firmly.

Flame stayed rooted to the spot, eyes to the floor, clearly remembering his online lessons.

TB observed her from behind. She was incredibly tiny. She stood about five feet, over a foot and a half shorter than him, but she was wearing what appeared to be five-inch heels. Her long braid's tail was tied off with a cream-colored ribbon that matched her outfit. She looked virginal and angelic.

He walked around her so they were facing each other. "Hello, Flame."

"Hello, Master Lobo."

Wow. Her voice is like music.

His inner grouch smacked him in the back of the head.

Like music? Seriously? Just because you've decided you're not going to be an asshole doesn't mean you have to turn into a pussy.

"I don't require an honorific. You can simply call me Lobo."

Her eyes were still downcast.

"Look at me, Flame."

She raised her eyes to his.

"I prefer to see your eyes. They help me to know what you're thinking and feeling."

She smiled shyly. "I much prefer looking at you. You're handsome, even if you scare me a little. That's not right. I'm not afraid of you. Your stare is… intense. Dangerous. Every woman secretly loves a bad boy, even if it's just to look at. Despite the bad boy look, you still make me feel safe."

She stopped abruptly.

Reading her expression and her body language, he realized she'd said something she hadn't meant to. One of those baby snakes of unease skittered into his brain.

Safe? Interesting word choice.

"I'm sorry, I'm babbling. I don't even know what I'm saying. This is all a little… overwhelming, even though I want to be here."

"There's no need to apologize. A little nervousness is to be expected. Normal, even." As difficult as it was, he moved away from her to sit in the single-seat chair. "Come to me, Flame."

She stepped shakily in his direction but without pause.

When she reached his knees, he spread his legs wide and tapped the top of his right thigh. "Sit, princess."

She sat gingerly, and he tagged her around the waist and slid her up his thigh further to also be touching his torso. Her body was literally vibrating.

She looked at him, her eyes wide with anticipation but also with naked attraction to him. He had to admit to himself he had the same feelings. It felt good to finally have his hands on her. It felt right.

"Before we begin, we need to discuss a few things."

"Okay."

"First, you already know I've been vetted extensively by the club. That means not only have I had a thorough background check, I've had no complaints from club members, which is what allows me to remain here as a member."

Okay, so my background check was "created" by Midas, but I'm no threat to her.

"Second, safe words. We'll use the traffic lights. Periodically, I will ask you for your color. Green means ‘continue.' You should never need to use that one, as I should be able to tell if you are enjoying something or are comfortable. Yellow means ‘slow down.' At that point, we take a break. We talk about what's making you uncomfortable. We determine whether to continue or adjust. Red means ‘stop now.' Whatever we're doing is so far out of your comfort zone that we stop the scene immediately, and we do not return to it.

"Normally, I shouldn't need to ask your colors because I'll be paying very close attention to your reactions. But because you are new to this, and we've not scened in person, I will ask occasionally so that you get into the routine. Do you understand the system?"

"Yes. Green means ‘continue,' yellow means ‘slow down,' and red means ‘stop.'"

"Excellent. Third, Tabitha shared your limits list with me, but we're going to take this slow since this is your first in-person foray into BDSM. For tonight," he emphasized, "tell me what your limits are."

"I…" She swallowed, her eyes locked on his.

He stroked a hand down the side of her face to soothe her. "Remember, princess, communication is key."

"I'm nervous."

"I know. I can feel your body shaking. That's why I'm asking you to voice what we can and cannot do tonight. This is part of the power exchange facet. After negotiation, I will control what happens, but tonight, this is all about your needs. This should be enjoyable, not uncomfortable."

"I guess I'm a little embarrassed."

"You have nothing at all to be embarrassed about. Trust me. I've seen a lot and probably done most of it.

"Maybe ‘insecure" might be a better word. What if I ask for something I shouldn't? What if the things I want aren't what you want? I'm new to this. Way too… ‘normal.'"

"Okay, Miss Author, define ‘normal' for me."

"What's usual. Acceptable."

"Usual or acceptable to whom?"

"To everyone."

"Hmm. But this is usual for me. It is acceptable. And while everyone's BDSM experience is personal and unique to their needs, that in itself makes this usual or acceptable to all of those people in the club. So who's ‘abnormal'?"

She huffed slightly. "You know what I mean. What if I'm too vanilla for you?"

That's kind of cute. She's worried about not being the "bad girl" stereotype.

Instead of laughing, he gave her an encouraging smile and a reassuring squeeze of his hand to her waist. "If you weren't what I wanted, just as you are, I wouldn't be here. You never have to worry about pleasing me, little Flame. My pleasure always comes from the power dynamic of giving my sub what she needs." He smoothed a stray tendril of hair back behind her ear. "Right now, you need me to reassure you that this is okay for you to want so that the experience can be positive. Am I right?"

"Yes."

"See? A Dom pays attention, reads cues, and works to know what he needs to know. Anything you want is okay, Flame," he reassured her.

Eventually, the tension in her spine began to ease. "Feeling better, princess?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"All right. Now, we'll start with the easy ones. Red is red. We're not worried about what's already on that list. What's red for you tonight that is otherwise yellow or green?"

Her face burned pink. "Mistress Tabitha said conventional sex was red for you."

"She is correct. No conventional sex with a partner I've just met. But that leaves room for a lot of other things that still qualify for pleasure and release."

Tension seemed to release from her body. "Good." She took a breath and released it before continuing, "Nothing anal. No whips." She looked down at his chest. "I don't know that I'm ready for any toys tonight, or paddles, or anything like that. Yellow on those."

He raised her chin with his fist so she could see his face and he could see hers. "All right. Anything else?"

Relaxing a bit further, she sucked her bottom lip under her top teeth, which he quickly rescued with a brush of his thumb out of fear she would bite into it and draw blood in her nervousness. He waited out her answer, no expression on his face. "Spanking," she whispered.

He nodded in response. "Plenty of other punishment options, but I somehow doubt they'll be needed. Anything in particular you do want to experience tonight?"

She was blushing again, but her breathing had elevated, and her pupils were dilating. She swallowed hard. "I'd like to be blindfolded. Tied."

Oh, definitely.

"Nudity?"

"Yellow." It came out as a whisper, just barely heard.

Hmm.

"No judgment, princess, but why are you unsure about showing your beautiful body to me?"

"There are parts of my body I'm not comfortable with."

"You're exquisite, princess. I knew you would be."

She blushed. "Thank you for the compliment, Lobo."

"Can you tell me what part of your body it is you aren't comfortable with?"

Her eyes gazed into his. "My arms. I don't like them to be bare. It's silly, but… just don't remove the sleeves. I can handle anything else."

Okay. That's a new one.

He nodded. "Sleeves are red; all else is green. Got it."

"You're not unhappy? I mean, my limits tonight are pretty boring, I'm guessing. Wouldn't you rather be playing with someone who is open to more?"

He brushed her knuckles with his thumb, eyes never leaving hers. "I'm here tonight only because you are, and I want to give you what you need."

She smiled shyly at him. "I'm flattered. You didn't say tonight, and I should have asked first in case you had plans. I'm sorry. Not particularly good submissive behavior."

"Well, I did intend for my invitation to be whenever you were ready, so we'll let it slide. This time," he warned her. "And I was planning on texting you, anyway, to see what other mischief I could convince you to get into." He winked at her, producing that nervous giggle in her again.

Her face sobered as she stared at his chest. She began to reach out her hand to touch him, then stopped, remembering that she shouldn't without permission.

"I worry that I won't please you."

And that's my cue.

Without a pause, he swept her up into his arms and took her toward the mirrors. He slid her down to stand in front of him so that she could see herself with him behind her. "Look at yourself in the mirror, Flame. Your eyes are never to leave us and what I'm doing to you. You are not to look at me other than through the mirror. You are not to look away or close your eyes, even briefly. Just watch us in the mirror."

He pulled her tight against his front. Her eyes went wide again, and there was a quiet gasp. Their eyes met in the mirror.

"Do I seem displeased?"

"N-n-no."

"Exactly. My body is the easy part. You already pleased me when we were doing no more than chatting over the computer, so you have no worries there, little Flame. Now…" His hands slid to hold her upper biceps lightly. "Let's begin."