Chapter Seven

A week went by, and things were fairly uneventful. Michael hadn't been back, and I began to relax and believe my coworkers when they said Michael Bradley didn't usually spend a lot of time in the Ft. Lauderdale club. He and the other owners—which now consisted of four businessmen, including David, who apparently still lived in Orlando—were busy expanding their business even further and had been renovating a new club in Miami that was due to open soon. That's where Michael spent the majority of his time, according to the word around the club. Toby said Michael had a residence here in town, as well as a beach house that had belonged to his family closer to West Palm. Apparently, he came from a lot of money and had made a lot of his own too. In other words, he was out of my league in more ways than just his good looks.

A new guy started working as bartender on Tommy's nights off, a red-haired young guy named Lawrence. He was about twenty-five, though he looked even younger, and his boyfriend was the club manager, Jerry. Nice to know nepotism was alive and well in the Den .

Lawrence was easy going and easy to get along with. He did a little flairing and was excited for me to teach him more techniques. That first night, he shared with me that he was a member of Lucifer's Den, and that's actually how he'd met Jerry.

"I've never seen you on the floor before, or Jerry either for that matter," I told him.

"Well, you probably wouldn't unless you went up to the Littles Room."

I blinked at him a few times before his words sunk in.

"You met Jerry there?"

"Kind of. I met Jerry when I went to a Munch. Are you familiar with those?"

"Yeah, I think so. Those are the parties that some clubs have to gauge interest from new members, right?"

"Yes. I was interested, so I dropped by. Jerry was there…" He winked at me. "And the rest is history. We've been together for almost two years now."

"Wow, that's great. So, you're a Little?"

"No," he said, smiling at me gently. "Jerry is."

"He… what?"

"I can see I've surprised you. It's a fairly common kink, you know. Though I admit, Jerry doesn't fit the stereotype. We even have conventions now, like CAPcon and Teddy Con."

"Conventions? I had no idea."

"It's a lifestyle for some people. Others just roleplay occasionally. Although a lot of people don't like that term."

"How does a person…how do they get started in something like that? You know, if they were interested?"

He put down the glass he was polishing and smiled again—he had a really comforting smile. " Are you interested?"

"I-I don't know," I said softly. "I don't think I would be."

"Well, you never know until you try."

I shook my head sadly and started to turn away. "Cruz…"

"Yes?"

"You should come upstairs sometime—as my guest. If you think there could be an interest. Jerry wouldn't mind at all, I'm sure. It's very easy-going, you know. No one judges anyone else. If you think you might like to look around, that is."

"Oh, thanks, but that's not really…I don't think so. Thanks though."

He just smiled and picked up another glass to polish, and I fled to the other end of the bar.

Everything went back to normal, more or less, and though I was a little freaked out about the fact that I had managed to land in the same club as the one Michael was part owner of. I told myself that little interlude in Orlando a year and a half ago, wonderful as it had been, was only one measly night out of my life—one night that I was still honestly shocked a man like Michael had even remembered. After all, he was so handsome, successful and rich that I was not only not in his league, but I wasn't even playing in the same ballpark.

Imagine my surprise then when he showed back up at the club a few evenings later dressed in leathers. He was just wearing black leather pants and a black shirt and boots, and nothing extreme or special, but he made it look good just the same. He came in and sat at a table for a while with a few other Doms, all of whom seemed to know each other pretty well—not that I was watching them or anything.

The private rooms at the back were busy, and the corridor leading back to them was near the bar. Because I was watching them, I saw a sub that I knew kneel down beside Michael's chair. He put his hand on the boy's head and spoke to him, smiling down at him. Jealousy flew over me so hot and unexpectedly that I dropped a bar glass. I got busy for a while then, cleaning up my mess, and the next thing I knew I saw Michael moving in the direction of the private rooms, the sub following along behind him. Michael looked neither to the right nor the left as he strode purposefully to the back rooms, and the boy with him looked excited and eager.

The sub was on the small side, with blond hair and wide eyes that were so blue they had to be contacts. I felt the lurch of jealousy in my chest again as they passed me, and tightened my lips, determined not to betray how I felt by the expression on my face. You know, just in case he glanced my way. Which, by the way, he did not.

Tommy was working that night and he noticed me looking though, and he smirked. "The subs all love it when Michael stops by. He doesn't have a regular one—it's someone new every time. He's well known for his flogging techniques. It doesn't hurt that he's so good looking."

We were busy, and Tommy was called to the other end of the bar then, and I was glad. I didn't want to discuss Michael Bradley and his "techniques." In fact, I wanted to forget all about Michael in that back room with his flogger and his pretty sub. None of my business, and I was working, filling one order after another, mopping up spills, grabbing glasses for refills and processing credit cards and cash. I didn't have time to worry about him.

When things finally began to settle down, I saw that Tommy had started flairing a little at his end of the bar. We had slowed down a bit, so I joined in, soon falling into a rhythm, enjoying the well-practiced moves that seemed like second nature to me now. We began to attract a small crowd of observers who cheered us on, laughing and clapping and calling out drink orders. One man, in particular, sat on his stool and watched my every move appreciatively. When it finally came time for my break, I grabbed a soda and made my way to a table at the back of the room. I wasn't surprised when the man who'd been watching me slipped off his stool and followed me over.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked, his voice silky smooth. He was well built, a little taller than me, and obviously he worked out a lot. He was older too, maybe pushing fifty, and he had dirty blond hair cut really high and tight and a little scruff on his cheeks that looked nice. He was a handsome guy, and obviously a Dom. By now I'd gotten pretty good at figuring out who was who, and he was definitely giving me that vibe.

"Got one, thanks," I told him, waggling my can at him.

"Can I at least sit down with you?"

"Sure," I said, as I saw Michael coming out of the back rooms.

"Unless you might like to dance?" the Dom asked hopefully.

I laughed. "No, thanks. I've been on my feet all night. I'm tired."

I watched as Michael spotted me and the other Dom and his eyebrows went together in a little frown. He changed courses and walked straight over to us, stopping at the table and staring down at us.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Cruz, you need to get back to work," Michael announced as he came to our table.

At first, I couldn't figure out what he was talking about. I was due a break of about twenty minutes, and it hadn't even been five since I sat down. Then I understood, and it flew all over me. The other guy looked up sharply. He gave Michael an appraising gaze.

"Yeah? Says who? He just took his break a few minutes ago. And by the way, I don't see a collar, and he seems to be okay with me sitting here with him."

Michael ignored him and spoke directly to me. "I said, break time's over, Cruz. Why don't you get back to the bar?"

The other guy sitting next to me stood up and faced Michael, putting himself directly in his line of sight. "Who are you to tell him that? He said he's tired."

"I'm his fucking boss, that's who. Now butt the hell out. This is a private conversation."

I stood up quickly then, just wanting this to stop. We had begun to get some attention from the other patrons, and it was getting embarrassing.

"Okay. I just went on break, but I'll go back to work if that's what you want, Mr. Bradley."

Completely ignoring me, Michael addressed the other man. "Cruz is not available. That's all you need to know."

My mouth fell open at that remark, and the other Dom glared at Michael. "Do you want me to get rid of this guy for you?" he asked me over his shoulder.

Michael grinned at him, a dangerous glint in his eye. "Oh, please try."

"Stop it, both of you. This is stupid! I'm going back to work, since it seems to be such an issue."

I stormed off without so much as a backward glance. Really, I didn't care if they drew blood or even killed each other right there in the middle of the club. I felt a hot flush travel up my neck. Why hadn't I said no? I was Michael's employee but not his sub, not by any stretch of the imagination, and he didn't even like me. Why the hell was he acting this way?

Instead of going directly back to the bar, though, I went to the men's room to at least relieve myself and splash some water on my hot face. I found the room empty for a change and afterward, I went over to the sink to wash my hands, jumping a little when the door opened, and Michael sauntered in.

"Are you following me?" I asked him.

Michael leaned against the wall beside the sinks and stared at me. He didn't say anything, just gazed at me sternly until I turned and faced him, still rinsing my hands. I cleared my throat, but nothing came out. I simply stared at Michael, unable to look away. Did the man have some evil voodoo powers? Why couldn't I just speak up and tell him what I thought about that kind of high-handed behavior? Since when did Michael Bradley have any say-so over who I spoke to or sat with? And why were my hands sweating even though they were in cold water?

"I've decided," he said softly, still staring at me. "That I don't like it when you sit with other men—or when you flirt with them."

"Well, I don't even know what to say to that."

"Say you understand."

"But I don't."

Gathering up my nerve, I glared directly into his eyes. "You don't have any claim on me, you know, other than as my employer. You made it clear you don't like me or want me around, so I don't know what you want from me anyway. I'm not your sub, you know. I'm not going to fall to my knees and lick your boots."

He shrugged. "You kind of want to, though, don't you?"

I gasped and took a big backward step, almost falling over a trash can. Michael reached for me and steadied me with his hand on my arm. "Be careful."

The warm pressure of his touch was kind of a shock. I looked up at him and he leaned in and brushed his lips across mine. "Oh, and the boots thing—maybe next time," he said, and then smiled. "You should see your face right now. You're so mad at me. Just stop, Cruz. Stop fighting so hard."

"I don't understand why you're saying this. Or why you just kissed me. Or…"

"I just want us to be friends. Can't we do that?"

"I-I don't know. You're my boss, and you hate me, so it's weird."

"I don't hate you. Look, I don't want this…" he waved a hand between us, "whatever this is between us, to ruin a good working relationship. You need to let this go, so we can be friends."

"Oh, I need to let it go, huh?"

He grinned at me, "Well, I think one of us needs to."

"I think one of us is crazy."

"Why? I just changed my mind about you. That's all. Do you doubt me?" he asked.

"Well, can you blame me? We went on one date…"

"It wasn't exactly a date…"

" We went on one date ," I repeated firmly. "And then I never heard from you again. Okay, fine. Sometimes things don't work out, and that's fair. But then almost two years go by…"

"A year and a half."

"Whatever! And you show up out of the blue, all suave and smug…"

"You think I'm suave, Cruz?"

"And acting like you own the place…"

"I kinda do."

"Shut up. And you tell me I can't take my damn breaks , because you don't like it when I sit with other men— really? I mean, how fucking dare you?"

He stepped in closer, his eyes like a damn snake charmer's, never leaving mine, hypnotizing me with his gaze. He leaned in and kissed the shit out of me, banging my head back against the wall and making me see stars. Well, something made me see them, anyway. I was damned near breathless when he finally let me up for air, but I still couldn't let this stand.

"You kissed me. Twice now."

"I did."

"I thought you said you didn't want whatever this thing was between us to ruin our friendship."

"Yeah, about that… I'm thinking that I probably have enough friends already."

"God, you're such an asshole."

He shrugged. "Besides," he said, leaning in to nuzzle my ear. "I decided I don't like the idea of another man's hands on you. Not one damn bit."

"He didn't have his hands on me."

"Oh, but he wanted to."

He kissed me again and took his sweet time about it. When he finished with me, I was sagging against the wall. He leaned back and patted my cheek.

"Now you go back to work, baby, and we'll talk more later. Your shift is almost over, so we can discuss it more then. Oh, and Cruz…"

I looked at him, my face still flaming, because he was so damn arrogant, and why did that appeal to me so much?

"No more flirting, okay?"

" What? What the hell are you talking about?" I mean, what the actual fuck was happening? "Tell me what this is all about."

"I'm going to. I promise, but not now. Not here in the men's room. People might talk."

I laughed out loud.

"We'll discuss this when you get off work, baby."

Baby? "But-but this is crazy. You have no claim over me or who I talk to."

"Maybe not, but I'd like that to change. We'll talk about it later, okay?"

I opened my mouth to demand to know why he suddenly cared so much, and how dare he talk to me like that and just what the hell he thought he was doing and instead what came out was a meek little, "Okay."

He stepped closer and put a finger under my chin to tip it up.

"I'll see you when you get off work, honey."

I made myself meet his eyes. It was surprisingly hard and what the hell was that about? He smiled and walked toward the door. "I'll come by when your shift is over. Meanwhile, no more flirting with customers, okay? Please? I really don't like it."

The arrogance of that remark should have made me furious, and it did. Except…it was kind of hot too.

He left and I did too, a few minutes later, my face still flushed and hot. My knees were a little wobbly, but I made my way back over to the bar.

"Back so soon?" Tommy called to me, and I just shrugged and nodded.

I got back to work, as instructed . Tommy and I didn't even try flairing that night because we were too busy. When the next shift came in, I saw Lawrence was working, and I nodded hello, glad to see him again.

"How have you been, Cruz? We seem to be working opposite shifts."

"True. I've been fine though. Keeping busy."

"Well, stop by and see me sometime. I usually come on the weekends with Jerry, so I'm around a lot. It would be nice to talk sometime."

I agreed it would be—just to be nice—and made my way out from behind the bar. Lawrence was a super nice guy, but I admit he made me nervous. And I was really glad it was time to go home for the evening.

Michael was suddenly there, waiting for me at the end of the bar. He'd changed into more casual clothes that still looked like they cost way too much. My heart started beating so hard as he came toward me that I thought he must be able to hear it.

"I'm driving you home," he said, as I stepped out from behind the bar.

"I don't mind riding the bus."

"Maybe not. But I'm driving you home tonight just the same."

He was so arrogant. So bossy. I gave him a look, and he sighed.

"Stop fighting me so hard. Look, I'm sorry. Let me try again. Cruz, I'd really like to drive you home so we can talk. Will you do me the honor of letting me do that?"

I smiled despite myself. "You make it hard to refuse."

"I'm hoping you can't. Come on. I go right by your apartment building."

"And how do you know where I live?"

"I looked in your file."

"Well, that's your right as my employer, I guess, though this feels a little like stalking." At the look he suddenly got on his face, I touched his arm. "I'm kidding. Really. But it's not fun being accused of stalking, is it?" I slipped my hand in his arm. "Take me home, please, Mr. Bradley."

He led me to the parking lot so we could climb in his big SUV, the same one I remembered from that night in Orlando. When he opened my door for me and held it for me to get in, I had that feeling of being cared for that had always appealed so much to me.

He didn't start the car right away, though, but just sat there in the dimly lit parking lot and stared at me. "I used to tell myself you couldn't have looked as good as I remembered that night in Orlando. Your hair wasn't that blue-black shade, and your eyes weren't dark brown with those flecks of hazel that were almost as golden as your skin, and there was no way your body looked as luscious as I remembered. Except then I saw you here and you did, and I was so fucked."

"You practically accused me of stalking you."

"It was maybe not my finest hour."

"No, it wasn't. Look, it's just a crazy coincidence that I went to work down here in a club that you happened to partially own. I just needed a job and saw the ad. I hope you believe me, because it's the truth."

"I do, honey, but you don't need to explain. I was out of line."

"Yes, you were."

"I tried to stay away after that night, but I couldn't. When I saw you with that Dom earlier, I didn't react well."

"I didn't even know him. And I saw you take someone back to the private rooms."

"Yes. I was trying to get my mind off you."

I snorted a little and he smiled. "Anyway, nothing happened. I had to apologize to him and tell him I'd make it up to him some other time."

"Will you? Make it up to him?"

He smiled and glanced down. No man should have eyelashes that long and thick. "No, probably not." He leaned in closer and brushed his knuckles over my jaw. "But will you give me a chance to make it up to you?"

"But why? It's not like I'm anything special."

He smiled. "Maybe you should look in a mirror sometime. From the first time I saw you I thought…well, I thought you were gorgeous. At the time I met you, I thought you might be submissive, like your friend. Maybe into some of the same things I am. I don't know why I got that impression, to tell you the truth, because I soon realized you weren't. But I still made that bet with you so I could take you home with me. I thought—one night. I'll have him for one night at least."

"Was that the deal breaker? The fact I'm not submissive? Was that why I never saw you after that night?"

"Not a deal breaker, no. I can do vanilla as well as the next guy, but I do need more occasionally. Like I said, I thought you and I might share that. When I saw that night that I was wrong, and I realized you were pretty young, I decided to leave you alone, but as soon as I did, I knew I'd made a terrible mistake. I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"Okay. I understand, I guess. But it wasn't like I asked you to marry me. Like you said, it was no big deal. It was a one-night stand."

"It felt important to me. You felt important. And I knew that if I started things with you, I was going to get very possessive over you, and you hadn't even graduated from college yet. And my instincts were right. You were way too young for me. Still are."

I just smiled at him. "And you're what? About thirty?"

"Thirty-two."

"That's not so much older. Eleven years. I don't mind if you don't. Maybe we should start over. Clean slate, okay?" I held out my hand for him to shake it, and he smiled at me.

"I think we can do a little better than that." He leaned over and brushed his lips against mine, and a wave of heat and need went through me. He must have felt it, but he didn't press his advantage. He started the car and began to drive me home.

"I'd like another chance with you, Cruz."

"I'm still not submissive."

"I know. I'd like to spend time with you, get to know you better. Will you give me that opportunity?"

"If you really want it…"

"I do. I'd really like to know you better."

I smiled at him. "Well, all right then."

He gave me a sweet smile and turned to start the car. When we reached my building, he pulled to the curb and glanced over at me. "Is this it?"

"Yeah. It's not much to look at, but the rent's cheap."

He gave it a dubious look. "Maybe so, but I don't think you belong in a place like this. I know some people in real estate. Let me ask around."

"It's fine. It's on the bus route, anyway, and it's not as bad on the inside as you'd think. Anyway, thanks for the ride home. I appreciate it."

I'd barely made it to my door when I heard footsteps behind me on the stairs. I whirled around and Michael was standing there a few steps below me looking up.

"I decided I wasn't ready to say good night yet. Will you let me come in for a minute?"

I stepped back reluctantly to let him pass, and he smiled as he stepped past me—then suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. My room was small, but I had to admit, it was messy. Maybe a lot worse than that. I was probably only a few bags of trash away from a health department intervention.

The unmade bed sat in the corner, mocking me with its messy sheets, and littered with books, cereal boxes, and dirty dishes.

And even worse. My beloved old scruffy teddy bear was lying amid the tumbled sheets.

I hurried over as casually as I could, grabbed the blanket, and threw it over the incriminating items, my heart pounding in alarm.

God, what if he'd seen that? How would I explain? What could I possibly say? This was an experienced Dom. Had he seen my private things? And if he did, then did he suspect? What would he think if he knew the truth? Would he expose me? Laugh? Drag all my secrets out into the light of day?

Yeah, I was paranoid as hell, but I couldn't help it. I'd never had much reason not to be.

"Sorry. I know it's a little messy," I said, hovering near the bed and hoping he wouldn't look at it again.

"This passed messy a long time ago, honey. I feel like I need a Hazmat suit. Good Lord, how can you live like this?"

"Well," I said, ashamed and lying through my teeth, "I don't spend much time here."

"It's a good thing, or else you might get a visit from the Health Department."

"Is that a thing? They come door to door now?"

I crossed my arms and glared at him, even though I had been thinking the same thing a minute ago.

"Sorry. It's not my place to comment, but… I wanted us to have a chance to talk more, and I don't think I can concentrate with all this going on." He glanced around the room like he was waiting for a mouse to suddenly dart by—which may not have been totally out of the question, come to think of it. I shuffled my feet, feeling mortified.

"Come home with me tonight. My place is not too far from here and it's not all that late yet. We can talk and maybe I could order something in, if you're hungry. We can watch an old movie and eat pizza. I have a guest bedroom you could stay in if it gets late, or I'll bring you back home. Whatever you want." He took my hand in his. "Please don't say no."

He was melting me like Dorothy did the witch in Wizard of Oz, right into a puddle on the floor.

"But what do you want with someone like me? You were right about me the first time, you know. I'm not a sub, and I know that's what you'd want."

"Let me be the judge of what I want. When you went inside your building, I realized I'm not ready to let you go yet."

His eyes were so big and warm as they looked into mine. "Come home with me. Please? We can just sit on the couch and watch old movies if you like. I really want to get to know you better."

I felt damn butterflies in my stomach. How could he think he could just bounce back into my life this way and take it over? I resented it. I hated it, and he was presumptuous to even ask.

I felt like I'd die if I didn't go with him.

I looked up into his beautiful face and thought about my plans for the evening, which had been to wind down by lying in bed with my bear, Fozzy, aka The Fozz, and watch Frozen on the Disney channel. I had intended to put on my Olaf sleep shorts I'd ordered off Amazon and literally just do nothing until I fell asleep. And because this had been a hell of a night, I might even have sucked my thumb. I was still shaken up, and it was the best way I knew to cope with stress after a bad night. But that was my secret life and never to be shared or discovered by anyone else. It was fantasy and never to be mixed up with the real world. I think it would have killed me if Michael had found out.

So, I looked him straight in the eyes, squared my shoulders and said, "Okay. Yes, I'll go home with you."