Chapter 16

Zoe

"Are you sure you don't want to come with?" Lennon paused at the door as he shrugged into his jacket.

I shook my head. "I told you, it"s not really my scene."

"I know. And I told you that I really want you to come anyway one of these days. You don't even have to play. You can just hang out and watch. That's all I"m going to be doing."

"I know." I nodded and forced myself to meet his gaze. "And I will. Someday. But not tonight." I took a step closer and straightened his collar as I spoke. "You go, and have a good time. I'll be fine. I could use the alone time, honestly." It was true. Lennon and I had been together practically nonstop for over a week now. Even in my marriage I hadn't spent that much time alone with somebody.

"Okay." He leaned forward to brush a kiss across my cheek. "Have fun. Don't wait up. You still need to be in bed at a decent hour if I'm not here. And don't forget, you still need to paint today."

"Yes, Daddy."

The thought of making art still caused my chest to squeeze with anxiety, but it was getting easier to do it once I started.

He gave me one more kiss, this time on the lips, and then he was gone. When the door closed behind him, I leaned against it with a deep sigh, savoring the silence and solitude. It was funny; in my marriage I'd been so lonely, but constant company and always having someone else in my space with their wants and needs to consider was just as overwhelming as the loneliness had been.

The truth was, I was curious about the club. Lennon had spent all week opening up a world to me I'd never known was possible. Well, not for me, anyway. I'd thought I was too old a dog to learn new tricks. He'd shown me that definitely wasn't the case. So yes, I'd go with him eventually. Just not tonight. I wasn't ready, and my need for quiet greatly outweighed my curiosity.

Stepping into my empty living room, I twirled around, taking in the subtle changes Lennon had helped me make to claim the space as my own. An antique Persian rug sprawled across the center of the living room floor. Bright throw pillows adorned the couches and chairs. I had random knick-knacks that served no other purpose than to make me smile. A vase of brightly colored flowers sat in the middle of the dining table. My ex would have hated all of it, but I finally felt like I could breathe.

That was what Lennon did for me. He made me feel like I could breathe again.

I stopped spinning when I started to feel lightheaded and skipped to the kitchen. A night alone sounded heavenly, and all I wanted to do was brew a pot of tea and eat my fancy chocolate in my jammies while reading a good book, but the reminder of his punishing paddle on my bottom the week prior still weighed heavy on my brain. I could have a perfect quiet evening by myself. I just had to paint first.

With my steps no longer light, I walked into the dining room. It was no longer a stuffy room used for near-silent dinners or entertaining people I didn't really care for. Lennon and I rarely ate in here. This was where we painted; him on the mural he was creating on my wall, and me on the most recent paint-by-number canvas I'd dedicated myself to because actually creating still felt hard.

Donning the smock I used more out of habit than necessity, I sat in the oversized dining chair with my feet curled up under me and stared at the second piece of the week. It was almost finished. There wasn't even thirty minutes left of work to do on it, no matter how slowly I painted. But I dutifully picked up my paintbrush, anyway, squirted some paint on my palette, and dipped my brush in the purple. The flowers were tiny and hard to paint. They barely looked like flowers.

Before I'd stopped, flowers had been one of my favorite things to paint. They were just so bright and fun. Erotic and full of passion. Flowers could be sad or happy or mellow or chaotic. They could be anything. Painting them to form, smushed together on a canvas as a space filler, did not suit me.

Annoyed, I looked over at the wall where Lennon had spent the week working on his painting, usually for far longer than I worked on mine. Suddenly I hated my little paint-by-number creation.

His painting, two abstract forms locked in a passionate embrace, then again, in a sensually compromising position, had annoyed me when he'd first started. But now, I could see it with new eyes. It was… sexy. It was passionate. It was… inspiring. It was calling to me. As if my feet had a mind of their own, I stood and made my way across the room, paintbrush still in hand.

The forms, the couple I knew was supposed to represent us, lay across a lush green field, their bodies stacked on top of each other, and they made love under a huge willow tree. The painting style was unique, not at all like anything I'd ever done. It was a mix of abstract and realism, with black and white figures set against a colorful and luscious backdrop. There were trees, and clouds, and a sparkling lake, and even a frolicking horse he'd said was a symbol that reminded him of me. The whole thing had a very sensual ‘Garden of Eden' feel to it. There were birds in the sky and woodland creatures off in the distance, but no flowers.

Looking at it, the lack felt like a travesty, like an actual crime. And I was helpless to stop what happened next.

I walked straight over to the couple showing their passion for each other out in the open under the shade of the tree as if they were the only two people in the world, and I covered them with a bright purple flower. Instantly, I felt guilty for ruining Lennon's piece, but when I stepped back to look at it, I heard his voice telling me I needed to create. And it was like I knew, I just knew, that he hadn't added flowers on purpose, as if he'd been saving those for me. I added more around them, and in the corners of the mural. The next thing I knew the entire bottom had been framed in a sprawling border of colorful and erotic flowers, their blooms open and full as if approving of the couples' activities.

At first it was just the outlines of flowers, then I added color to the petals, because why not? And soon every piece of every flower was done in exquisite detail, and far more than an hour had passed.

It was like I'd come out of a trance. Standing and stepping back, I assessed my work and drew in a deep fortifying breath, taking stock of my emotions. There was none of the self-hatred and dread I'd felt—or assumed I'd feel—when I finally picked up a paintbrush again. Instead, I felt… liberated. I felt… inspired. I felt like I could do just about goddamn anything.

I no longer longed for a peaceful, quiet night at home sipping tea and reading. I wanted to keep this feeling going for as long as I could.

An idea forming, I quickly pulled my phone from my pocket and snapped a few pictures so I'd have something to show him. Then I hurried off to the bedroom to get ready.

Lennon

It felt weird entering the club tonight after storming out last week. Especially since I hadn't seen my friends since. I'd been so focused on Zoe all week I hadn't gone into the office much. Most of them had given me space, undoubtedly waiting for me to come around and go back to my happy-go-lucky, party-animal self. I wasn't sure that was going to happen. In my mind, that outburst had been a long time coming. But I also wasn't going to throw away a decade of friendships and successful working relationships, either.

I strode into the club, nodding to the desk receptionist for the night, a submissive named Eve, and the bouncer, Zeke, and headed for the back. Stopping outside the owners' lounge, I drew a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and flung the door open.

My friends were all already there, drinks poured and chatter going. When I entered the room, though, everything stopped. It became so quiet, I could have heard a pin drop, and truthfully, I would have been grateful for the disturbance.

"Hi guys." I smiled ruefully and hightailed it for the bar.

Tonight I wanted something strong, and lots of it. I was busy pouring myself a double neat scotch on the rocks when Nyla came up behind me and latched her arms around my waist, resting her head on my shoulder blade. I twisted to look at her over my shoulder, which was a feat in itself because she was that much shorter than me. I couldn't see her, so I finished pouring my drink and twisted my body to bring her in underneath my arm.

"Yes?" I smiled down at her, unsurprised that she would be the first one to approach me and try to break the ice.

She smiled up at me and squeezed my waist. "Lennon, I've thought all week about what you said, and I'm really sorry if you've felt that way for this long. You're right; we've all grown so much, and to act like you were the only one that hadn't, or that you were incapable of growth, was really shitty and unfair of us." She paused to draw in a breath, and I stayed silent to let her continue. "It's not like we really think that, it's just that… I think you're comfortable. Like, I think seeing you as not having changed was almost… reassuring in some way. Like it made the rest of the world less scary. But it wasn't fair to you, and I'm sorry." She stretched her arm out to indicate the room at large. "We're all sorry."

My friends and their spouses nodded and murmured their agreement.

"We love you, bro," Archer called out.

I squeezed Nyla back before she disentangled herself from my embrace and took a seat on a barstool in front of me.

"It's cool. And I'm sorry, too. I overreacted."

"You really didn't." Nyla reached out and laid a hand on my arm. "We were not being cool, pressuring you to drink like that, and acting like you deciding not to get shithoused was some sort of affront. We are not in college anymore and this is not a frat party."

I nodded, clicked my tongue, and said nothing, pouring another drink. "Well, I'm drinking tonight, and I haven't had a drop all week, so I intend to get good and sloshed," I announced, raising the glass to my lips. It was a sipping drink, but I pounded it just the same, much to my friends' amusement.

"Hear, hear," Theo called, doing the same with his own drink.

The others just nodded their heads, raised their glasses, and finished their drinks, bringing them up to me one by one for refills so I could play bartender like I always did.

When everyone had a full drink and I was on my third, I grabbed the bottle from the bar and carried it over with my glass, joining them across the room. "So, any business that needs to be discussed?"

Archer shrugged. He didn't spend a lot of time at our office since he was busy doing his hotshot lawyer stuff most of the time.

Nyla shook her head.

"We missed you at the office this week," Bain offered. "Are you gonna come back on Monday now that we've all made up?"

I scoffed. "My absence this week actually had not a thing to do with you guys," I informed him. "Zoe had the week off, and I've been busy with her. But she's back to work on Monday, and I will be, as well."

"Zoe, huh? Not Professor Kramer?" Jasmine teased, waggling her eyebrows.

I answered with an eye roll. "Of course it"s not Professor Kramer. I need to make sure she remembers that the power dynamic has shifted. That's not going to happen if I call her the same thing I called her back in college."

"Good point," Bas agreed. "But that still doesn't answer the question."

"I know," I replied succinctly, raising my glass to my lips and sipping with a smile.

"It's crap," Archer surmised. "She's all business, and he's searching for threads, hanging all over, desperate for any scrap of interest she throws him."

Do not be childish enough to need to respond. Do not be childish enough to need to respond.Do not be childish enough to need to re—oh dammit.

"It is not crap, and it's going very well, Just because I'm not behaving like the overgrown child you all seem to think I am, and needing to dish like I have something to prove?—"

"Whoa, whoa, hold up." Audrey got physically between Archer and I, holding her arms out between us as if to separate us, like we were about to square up for a fight or something. "You guys, we are not doing this again this week. Archer, knock it off. You're kinda being a dick."

I sucked in my teeth as Audrey threw herself to the wolves on my behalf, leaning back to watch the fireworks that would probably ensue.

Archer responded as I'd expected. His eyebrow arched and his chair scooted back as he sized up his submissive. "Excuse me? Is that how you talk to me?"

"Yes," Audrey snapped. "Respect is earned, not freely given, and right now you aren't earning it. And it's not just with Lennon. You've had a stick up your butt all week, and you need to take a chill pill and cut it out before you do damage you can"t undo to someone you really care about."

Archer was glowering with every word she spoke, but Audrey rightfully ignored him and kept going, reaching over to put her hand on his thigh. "I'm serious, babe. I know work has been stressful, and this case is killing you, but you need to find a different outlet for your frustration."

I could see the moment her message got through and Archer was able to drop the "I'm the Daddy" act and hear her for real. His shoulders dropped, his gaze softened, and he reached up to rub the bridge of his nose, pinching it between two fingers.

"Okay, you're right. You're right. I'm sorry." He sighed. "It's just this case."

I nodded, biting my tongue.

Audrey didn't take the same route. "And if it wasn't this one, it would be another one. Do you even like your job anymore? Like seriously…. Do you? And if not, why do you do it? It's not like you need the money. What could you possibly need it for? Nice cushy penthouse apartment, check. Expensive, lavish cars, check. Posh office working with your best friends, check. Amazing and hopping BDSM club, check. Residual income from said offices and businesses, check. Seriously, Archer. It might be time to reevaluate what's important in your life."

I sucked on my teeth and met Bas and Bain's eyes across the table. For one, I was glad to have the heat off me, and for another, we'd recently said the same things. The more successful Archer became in his job as a defense lawyer, the more miserable he seemed. And Audrey was right. He didn't need the money. None of us did. And while most of us still had side gigs in our areas of expertise, none of us worked those side gigs full-time, and none of us worked as hard as Archer. Even Bas and Theo, who basically ran Penthouse Corp's day-to-day operations.

There was a heavy silence as we all waited to see if and how Archer would respond. One look at him and you could tell he was wound tighter than a girdle.

He sighed, and I downed my drink, pouring another.

"I'll think about it," he finally said. "Can we talk about something else now?"

Bas flicked his fingertip against his glass as the corners of his mouth turned up in a smirk. "Well…" he said, "we were talking about Lennon and Zoe, originally."

I groaned. Every time we went there ,we somehow ended up in a fight.

Archer appeared to have the same thought, because he shook his head. "That's probably not wise." He turned to me. "You know I love you. And I want you to be happy. I really do. And I get that we all have to grow up sometimes. I just don't want you to change for any other reason than because you honestly, genuinely want to."

I downed my drink again and poured yet another. "I promise you, I honestly, genuinely want to." I ran my fingertip around the rim of my glass, smiled, and met his eyes. "Just not tonight. Tonight, I want to party."

"Hell, yeah!" Theo raised his glass to clink it against mine.

Bain, Bas and Archer followed suit, each of them finishing their respective drinks. When they were done, Archer set his glass down and pulled Audrey to her feet in front of him.

"I'm going to think about what you said," he promised, taking her hand to raise it to his lips and pressing a row of kisses across her knuckles. "But first, I think we should have a little chat about your delivery."

Audrey bowed her head, but her eyes were sparkling, and it was easy to tell she was not too upset about the outcome of her outburst as he took her hand and led her to the center of the club floor.

All our eyes were on them as she stripped off the dress she was wearing, revealing a black bra and panty set with thigh-high stockings and a garter belt. Theo whistled, and Archer jerked his head up to scowl at him, but there was no real malice or jealousy there.

"Looks like we're getting a show tonight," Bas said, scooting forward for a better view.

Theo grunted. "I don't know, man. Archer's not much to watch."

Bain elbowed him hard. "Will you knock it off? We get it, okay. We know you're the one everyone comes here to see. But newsflash, you're not up there playing, and haven't been for weeks. In fact, you don't seem to have anyone to play with."

I eyed Theo, wondering what was up with him. He'd been a grump for weeks, and Bain was right. He hadn't brought Erin or anyone else to the club for ages. What was up with that?

I waited for him to respond to Bain, but all he did was grab the bottle of scotch I'd brought to the table and drink directly from it. And not just like a sip, either. He was chugging scotch that was a hundred dollars a shot like it was water.

When he'd downed about a thousand dollars' worth, I grabbed it, pulling it from his lips.

"Hey!" He reached for it, but I scooted out of his reach and downed a few shots worth myself.

Not because I wanted to self-destruct the way Theo was doing, but because I was barely buzzed, and I hadn't drank all week. I was here to have fun and cut loose. Being with Zoe gave me an opportunity to grow and change and show a different side of myself, but that didn't mean this side was dead.

"We're just chugging that shit from the bottle now?" Nyla asked, scoffing. "So much for class." But even as she said it, she grabbed the bottle from me and took a swig, grimacing as it went down.

"Nyla!" Bas warned. "What did I say about drinking tonight?"

Nyla's eyes went wide, and she slammed the bottle back down on the center of the table. For a moment I thought she was seriously regretting her life choices. But then she smiled coyly and blinked innocently at him. "What, Daddy? Did you say something about drinking tonight?" More pseudo-innocent blinking ensued as her voice rose to a shrill octave. "I don't remember."

"Uh-huh. Sure you don't. Damn brat." He grabbed the bottle himself, took a short swig that may not have even been a full shot, and stood, grabbing her hand. "Well, since you insist on playing with fire, little girl, I guess you're gonna get the horns."

Nyla cocked her head at his mixed metaphor and sputtered laughter, even as he led her away to the center of the room and began to set up a scene.

"Looks like we're getting a double show tonight," Bain said, snickering. He nudged Jasmine, who was sitting on his lap. "Unless you want to make it a triple?"

She shook her head quickly from side to side. "Nope. I'm good. I'm happy being a voyeur tonight."

"I'm not." Theo stood, swayed on his feet for a minute, and strode across the club to where a group of single submissives had gathered, waiting for play offers.

I raised my eyes at Bain. "We gonna let him play with the mood he's in, and the alcohol he's consumed?"

Bain shook his head but made no move to get up and stop him. "The mood he's in, it seems best to stay out of his way. I'll keep an eye on him, but I'm not intervening unless I need to." He reached for the bottle in the center of the table. It was more than half empty. "Damn. You guys aren't fucking around tonight."

I shrugged. "You know what they say. Work hard. Play hard."

He smirked. "Oh, have you been working?"

He knew I hadn't. I'd taken the week off to spend time with Zoe. "Shut up," I grumbled, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig. The liquor burned going down, but it tasted good. Strong. Familiar. Comforting. I took another. It wasn't like I had anywhere to be, and my apartment was in walking distance, or I could uber to Zoe's.

I took a long pull and caught Bain's eyes over the top of the bottle.

He raised his brows at me. "You good, man?"

"Never better," I grunted, then set the bottle down and pushed it to the center of the table. "I'm having a blast with Zoe, and I'm loving being her Daddy, but I haven't even had a sip of beer all week, and the teetotaler life is not for me."

He nodded. "But she's okay with you drinking tonight?"

Cocking my head, I furrowed my brows at him. "Why wouldn't she be?"

"I don't know, man. Some people are triggered by alcohol, or by their partners drinking. Not that you two are a thing, but you know what I mean."

I squinted, looking between him and the scotch. "We're not not a thing."

Bain made a face at that, but didn't comment further. "Okay then, why doesn't she drink? Is it just a personal choice, is she in recovery, does alcoholism run in her family? What's the deal?"

I opened and closed my mouth like a fish. "I… I don't know. I never asked. She just said she didn't drink, so we haven't. She didn't tell me not to drink tonight, and I don't know if I would have listened if she had. Is that like a thing? Do ex-alcoholics not want their partners to drink?"

Bain shrugged. "Depends on the person, I think."

I frowned, feeling stupid for not bothering to ask why she didn"t drink, and for assuming she wouldn't care if I drank if I wasn"t with her. Oh, well. That ship had long since sailed. Nothing I could do about it now, so I poured myself another drink, in a glass this time, not from the bottle like a neanderthal.

If she had a problem with it… well, I'd cross that bridge when I came to it. Or maybe she'd never know.