Chapter 3

To Last for a Lifetime

NERVOUS, HER HEARTpounding, Fiona crossed and uncrossed her legs and tucked hair behind her ear that didn't need tucking. She shifted onto one hip and tugged the hem of her short skirt down for the umpteenth time. She'd been guilty of eating her feelings these past few days, and her hot-pink leather skirt was tighter than the last time she'd worn it. Self-conscious of the pooch in her lower belly, she folded her hands over it, but that exposed her thunder thighs.

Damn. What was she thinking coming back tonight?

The answer was simple: foolish pride. She refused to let a critical asshole scare her off. Today was day 365 of her membership, which she'd paid dearly for, and she was determined to make a night of it because it would likely have to last for a lifetime.

She'd miss the sights and sounds, even the smells of the club, and being around people who understood her dark desires. But, after tonight, she'd have to lock those away and learn to enjoy bland and comfortable.

Was there even a dom out there for her? She wasn't a prude, and no one judged subs who came only to play. There were divorced and widowed members, although not all that many of the latter, but no one pointed at them and called them names when they came to get their needs met. The doms scened with a sub du jour all the time, so why not her?

Perched on a couch in subspace, Fiona scanned the room. It was the perfect vantage point for her and her fellow unattached submissives, all six of them, to watch the action on the main floor and be noticed. That was the best part about subspace. A potential partner wouldn't have to wonder if she was interested in playing and could approach. But, as the adage went, you can lead a horse to water. The attraction and negotiation, like drinking, was up to them after that.

It was unusually busy for a Monday, and most of the stations were in use. There were lines at all the crosses and spanking benches, the most popular stations, and voyeurs crowded the circuit, standing two- and three-deep at the velvet ropes, taking it all in.

The cushion next to her dipped and shifted her into a large male body. She looked up into a pair of deep-blue eyes with little crinkles bracketing them and fanning out toward the silver hair at his temples. She'd always appreciated older men. Life experience had taught them patience, and most often they were kind, but not this one. She had to have one or the other and he, obviously, was lacking in both.

"Excuse me, sir," she murmured, straightening and scooting over so they were no longer plastered against one another from hip to knee.

"No excuses necessary, little subbie. I shifted you into me."

She didn't know what to say, and really didn't want to speak with him, so she returned to watching the activities on the main floor.

"How are you after the other night?"

Like he cared. "I'm feeling just fine tonight, sir," she said coolly, still not looking his way.

"You've been avoiding me since you joined. That's been a year, hasn't it? I want to know why."

"You're mistaken," she lied. "Why would I avoid you when I don't even know you?"

"That's another thing. How would I go about that? Getting to know you, that is, when every time I look in your direction, you scurry away like a timid rabbit. Do I scare you?"

The truth? Yes! He scared the crap out of her. He was her fantasy dom since day one, then he showed his true colors in the bar. She was afraid if she gave him a pass, and they had a scene, he'd be better than her dreams and completely shatter her heart when he moved on to someone else.

"Again, sir. Why would I be scared when I don't know you?" she asked, trying not to lie again.

Being evasive wasn't like her, but she couldn't tell him the truth. It hurt when he'd toppled from his pedestal. Besides, Master Axyl's warning still rung in her ears. She might be able to have a scene with another dom and walk away unscathed, but not with Doc. In his case, she firmly believed it was better never to have played at all, so she wouldn't.

"Prove it," he murmured. "Come play with me."

Her fingers curled into fists, deliberately digging her nails into her palms to keep from climbing him like a tree. But that awful name, Fat Fiona, and the C-word, and even worse, the mocking laughter of Friday night still echoed in her head.

"Just this once?"

"Yes," he replied, the flash in his eyes revealing he thought he was winning her over. Then he gave what must surely be his coup de gras come-on line. "That's all I can offer. Other than to ensure you're flying by the end of our time together."

"I'll have to decline. Sir." She'd almost forgotten that last bit of disingenuous respect.

He frowned, obviously expecting a different answer. "Why?"

"I don't think we'd do well together."

"You've come to that conclusion how?"

"Your scenes always draw a crowd of onlookers. I'm looking for someone less...notorious, I guess is the word. I'm a low-key kind of sub, perfectly content not to be in the spotlight."

"Not an exhibitionist but a voyeur, then?"

"Perhaps," she said noncommittally.

"I can work with that or whatever you're into, within limits."

The notion having never occurred to her before; her feigned disinterest slipped. "You're a dom. You have limits?"

"Of course," he replied with a hint of a smile. "We all draw the line somewhere."

She considered him for a moment then shook her head. "No, thank you."

His eyes widened, and he blinked in genuine disbelief. "You're declining, preferring to sit in subspace waiting for another dom to come along. What if he doesn't?"

With a dismissive shrug, she showed indifference she really didn't feel. Another lie. "It won't be the first time. But you shouldn't worry about me, sir. I enjoy just being here, soaking up the atmosphere and watching the play."

He grunted. "I'm not used to being rejected, little one."

She kept her composure, not even a flicker of movement crossing her face. The word "little" seemed to hover in the air between them. The polar opposite to fat; was he mocking her again?

Even if he wasn't the one who'd uttered the foul insults, the callous laughter proved how he felt. He was the one who rejected her first, the big hypocrite.

Abruptly, she rose to her feet. "If you'll excuse me, sir. I feel the need to freshen up."

When she walked away on wobbly, Jell-O legs, she could feel his gaze boring into her back. She had to force herself to move at an unhurried pace, when she wanted to sprint to escape. The other subs in waiting, close enough to overhear, stared at her like she'd lost her mind.

He didn't attempt to stop her from leaving, thank goodness, and she made it to the ladies' locker room without collapsing or puking. How had she told all the whoppers she had? And where in her terminally bashful body had she gathered the nerve to say no to such a powerful dom?

She hadn't called him names or used foul language, so it wasn't like for like, but it felt good to give him a taste of his own medicine—rejection. That made the score one for him and somewhere in the hundreds for her.

REAPPLYING HER MAKEUPand touching up her hair didn't require an hour, but that was how much time passed while she hid out in the locker room, waiting for Doc to become interested in someone else. When she returned to the benches, only one other sub remained. She was stick thin with bad skin beneath her heavily applied makeup. Fiona smiled at her kindly—one of two lonely wallflowers.

But while Fiona waited for someone to notice her, a goatee-sporting dom in black leather pants and a flowing white shirt, who, add an eye patch would look like a pirate, claimed the other girl and steered her toward the activities on the main floor.

Bad skin trumped fat, evidently.

So ready to end the self-imposed torture, she stood. She'd retrieve her shoes and sneak out unfulfilled like so many other nights before thus ending the BDSM chapter in her life. The crack of leather on bare skin followed by the strident cry of pleasure drew her attention to the spinning St. Catherine's wheel at the back of the room.

A row of bigger stations to accommodate the whip enthusiasts, who required a lot of space to work, and the larger pieces of equipment stretched along the wall. More specifically, the wailing wall. The reason for the nickname became obvious when the red-leather-clad domme flailed her muscular submissive once more and his hoarse cry rose above the din in the room. The crowd surrounding the station watched in rapt voyeuristic awe. All except one man who was looking her way—Jordan.

She averted her gaze, hoping he would stay where he was—far across the room. Watching a nearby wax play scene, she tried to play it nonchalant. When she stole a quick glance to see if he'd taken her hint, she felt sick. He had his gaze fixed on her as he made a beeline in her direction.

Fiona glanced at the doors. Did she make a run for it again, like a coward? While still weighing her decision, she heard footsteps on the platform. Soon, he stopped in front of her, much too close and blocking her exit.

She sat to put distance between them.

"Fiona, isn't it?"

Wasn't it Fat Fiona? Like he didn't know.

"Sir," she replied, managing not to cringe when he sat next to her.

What was going on? All she needed was the third dom to appear, and she'd have a trifecta of humiliation.

"I wanted to speak to you about the other night—in the bar. I regret that you overheard what you did and felt the need to bolt early."

Huh. His apology was for her overhearing, but not for either calling her fat, the C-word, or laughing about it. So...sorry, not sorry. Way to own up to his bad behavior; what a jerk.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "The incident hasn't crossed my mind since."

"What a relief." He covered her hands with one of his own. "There's no barrier to the two of us playing tonight, then."

Her gaze shifted from their joined hands to his face. "You want to scene with me?" she asked, rather incredulous because after rejecting him once and other than the bar that night, he had never spared her a second glance.

"Yes. You're beautiful, and I've had my eye on you for a while. Do you have a limit list I may peruse?"

Totally taken aback, she pulled a laminated card from between her breasts without thinking.

"Charming," he said, his gaze on the two inches of cleavage created by the sweetheart neckline of her bustier top. And was that a hint of the smirk she'd seen the last time? If so, it vanished as quickly as it appeared when he ticked off some of her preferences aloud. "Mild pain, impact play, restraints, clamps, gags, toys, and sex. You're not into humiliation, and nothing extreme like breath play, knives, etc., which aren't allowed inside the club anyway. Everything on your list I can do for you, precious. No problem."

She gazed at him, her mind awhirl with doubts and insecurities. Fiona looked around. Two other subs had joined her on the couches. A male, who she knew was only interested in a domme, and an older sub, early forties at least, who was already in negotiations. Mighty slim pickings. He obviously wanted to play and was settling for the fat chick.

He squeezed her hand, recapturing her attention. "Don't let my choice of companions that night keep you from saying yes. Doc was out of line with his comments, and I told him as much."

"It was Doc?" Fiona couldn't keep the disappointment out of her voice. She'd hoped it wasn't him, but hearing her worst fears confirmed was like a slap in the face.

"I hope you weren't interested in him. Doc has a type. Regrettably, as you overheard the other night, you aren't it. Forget about him. I'm more open-minded and enjoy women of all shapes and sizes. It goes without saying that I'll accept if you decline my offer"—he laid his hand on his chest dramatically before continuing—"but I will be utterly devastated."

She could smell the bullshit. He intended to use her to get his needs met, but wasn't that what she had planned too? He was very good-looking, being polite, and, so far, had been quite charming. Why not use him for her own selfish gratification?

Taking a deep breath, Fiona nodded in agreement.

He grinned broadly. "I'll take good care of you, precious. You won't be disappointed." His fingers banded her wrist and, without further negotiations, he stood and pulled her to her feet. "I see a free spanking bench toward the back. Let's hurry and claim it before someone else does."