Chapter 6

What Have You Got to Lose?

HER ONE O'CLOCK CLIENTcanceled, giving Fiona the rare opportunity to go out for lunch and a full hour to do so. Usually, she scarfed down something at her desk, either ordered in or out of the vending machine. It was a warm but breezy day in LA, so she walked to the strip mall two blocks over, grabbed a yogurt parfait, then ate while she shopped because, as luck would have it, a sidewalk sale was happening.

She detoured around the lingerie store where she'd bought all of her club wear. Not the glitzy, trendy dresses up front, but the much more daring fetish wear they kept in a room in the back. She'd never been brave enough to reveal all—or nearly all—like many of the subs did. Instead, she'd stuck to short, body-hugging but less revealing dresses, which, in hindsight, might have been part of her problem.

Flipping through a 50-percent-off rack at a boutique where she liked to browse but rarely could afford to buy from, she looked up, hearing her name called. Two women, a petite blonde and a stunning redhead, were hurrying toward her.

Fiona closed her eyes, dreading the encounter. The day after the incident, Val had called to check on her. She sent the call to voice mail and later erased her message without listening to it. After all she'd done for her, it was a shitty thing to do, but Fiona was determined to make a clean break.

Master Eric called, too, as did Esme, both leaving messages. She'd ignored all of them, except for the call from an unknown number that came late in the day. Curiosity got the best of her, and she listened to the message. When she heard Doc's deep voice, she wished she hadn't, because it came with a pang of regret and longing.

"The others tell me you aren't answering their calls and messages. It concerns me you've cut off all contact with the club. If you're still having symptoms, see someone. If they're other than physical, such as anxiety, nightmares, intrusive thoughts, reach out to Val. She's a clinical social worker who can help or will refer you to someone who can. You could call me, but I've been called away on business. I'll be out of the country just short of a month." There was a brief pause before he continued in a softer, less clinical voice. "It's understandable if you're struggling after what happened. Please, reach out. That's the benefit of a community. You don't have to go through this alone. I hope to see you healthy and happy at the club when I return. If not, I truly wish you well, Fiona."

When the message ended, she'd stared at her phone a long time trying to figure out who the real Doc was. Perhaps his decent side came with the cloak of professionalism when he put on his doctor's hat. Too bad he turned into mean, fat-shaming, foul-mouthed Mr. Hyde when at the bar surrounded by his friends.

She deleted his message then heaved a sigh of relief. With Doc gone, that was one less caller she'd have to ignore.

Esme and Val's attempts went on for a week, however. The following Thursday, the morning after girls' night out, Fiona's phone alerted with a text message.

Valerie: We looked for you last night. I hope you're okay after what happened last week. Please call me so we can talk.

Esme also texted: I'm sorry you couldn't make it last night, Fiona. If you need to vent to someone, I'm a good listener. Call anytime.

The next time her phone alerted, it was an email from Master Eric.

I received your email about not renewing your membership. The situation with Jordan was unfortunate, but you don't need to worry about him anymore. Let's talk about this first. I'll hold your spot open through the end of the month. Call me, and I'll make time for you.

She didn't have to screen any more calls after that. They stopped. But she couldn't screen, ignore, or delete the two women rushing toward her, not anymore.

They were slightly winded when they reached her and stood in awkward silence with the clearance rack between them until Esme said quietly, "You're looking good, Fiona. Are you...better?"

"I'm fine, thank you. But I can't chat for long. I'm on my lunch break and have to get back to work."

"We've been worried about you."

She couldn't hold her gaze, or Val's, who had yet to say anything.

"I know. I should have called and explained, but I wasn't up to talking."

"What about now?" the little blonde inquired.

"I just want to put it all behind me and move on."

"You're not coming back?" Esme asked, her expressive face reflecting her concern and disappointment.

She shook her head. "It's not my kind of crowd."

"Only because you haven't gotten to know them. Look at me," Val said, holding her arms wide. "For most of them, I'm old enough to be their mother."

"Isn't Eric older than you?"

"He's a man," Esme sniffed. "It's different, and most unfair."

"That's a problem for another day," Val said with the wave of her hand. "One of many reasons I wanted you to get to know the submissives better is because we have the inside track on the doms. Who likes what, who's been with who, and, most importantly, who to avoid at all costs."

"Jordan fell into the last category, I take it?"

"He had his own class: avoid like the plague," Esme quipped.

Val shot her a glance. "I thought we voted to change that to, run like your hair is on fire."

"More like ass," Fiona drawled. "Take it from someone who knows."

At the horrified look Esme gave her, Fiona laughed. When Val looked at her with a mix of sadness and sympathy, she laughed harder. It was probably the stress, and very inappropriate considering the topic, but she couldn't help it.

Two customers shopping nearby gave her odd looks and scurried like frightened mice down the sidewalk and into the next store.

This tickled Fiona all the more, and she doubled over with laughter.

Esme whispered to Val. "Is she having a nervous breakdown?"

"No, I think she's letting off steam. Or at least, I hope so."

Winding down, Fiona held her belly. "Ooh," she moaned. "I laughed so hard my stomach hurts, but it feels good to let it out."

"It's been a rough week, huh?" Val asked, smiling for the first time since they'd joined her.

"You have no idea."

"Yeah, we kind of do," Esme replied, "which is why you need to come back to the club and, this time, join our sub group."

"Thanks. But I don't think so."

"Don't let one bastard scare you off."

"It wasn't just him. I didn't gel with anyone."

"We can help with that. Tell her, Val."

"We're starting a new service for members just like you, who want to find someone but are having trouble making a connection."

"Like a dating app?"

"Exactly. You fill out a questionnaire, and we match you with a club member with similar kinks and interests."

"What do you have to lose?" Esme asked.

"That's what I told myself about Jordan."

Her comment totally killed the mood, and the awkward silence and sad looks returned.

"Eric said he wants to approve any potential match for you. He feels terrible that he let it happen on his watch."

"It's not his fault," Fiona insisted. "Jordan was a member for two years and had everyone fooled."

"That's what I told him. I also reminded him that sociopaths can be charming." When a woman walked up and started flipping through an adjacent rack, Val and Esme moved closer. "As word got out about the incident, other subs have come forward. None were as severe as yours, but things that freaked them out enough to safeword or not accept offers to play with him a second time have surfaced."

"Basically, he was a sadist but not a dominant. Keiran says there are several like that at the club, but they disclose they're only into causing pain and respect limits. Unlike..." Esme shuddered. "Let's just refer to him as he who shall remain nameless."

"Or not at all," Val suggested. "The good news is that he's gone for good. Tossed out on his ass."

"Which is why you should come back to the club and give our service a try," Esme urged. "It hasn't even been a month yet, and we've matched five couples."

"This time, you'll have us as wing men," Val pressed. "If you're submissive and kinky, you can't face a lifetime of vanilla. You'll go mad from boredom. I know because I lived it."

"And, if you don't try," Esme espoused, "you may find, ten or twenty years from now, you regret it. Then it will be even harder finding the dom of your dreams."

Looking at their expectant faces, Fiona sighed. These persistent women would probably hound her constantly if she said no. Besides, she'd had the same arguments with herself for weeks.

"Okay. I'll give it one more try, except..."

"Oh no," Esme groaned. "Except is almost as bad as a but."

"Lay it on me. What's wrong now?" Val asked.

"My membership expired, and I really can't afford another full year only to have it go south again."

"Eric will waive that," she declared.

"Shouldn't you discuss it with him first?"

"No. He'll agree," she declared with unshakable confidence.

"Wow, he must really feel guilty."

"You have no idea," Val muttered, her voice filled with concern for her husband. "He has a protective streak longer than the Rio Grande. He takes his responsibility to the members seriously, especially the uncollared submissives. It's like they're his own, which is why the incident with Jordan—"

"Uh, uh," a frowning Esme interrupted.

"Excuse me, why the incident with he who shall remain nameless," she restated, "bothers him so. That even with the extensive prescreening and background checks they do, he somehow fell through the cracks."

"Keiran feels the same way. He told me his men are determined to get it locked down though."

"I've been the topic of conversation a lot, huh?"

"Yeah. Sorry," Val said, giving her a sympathetic look.

"I'll email you the questionnaire, then?" Esme asked, brimming with excitement.

"And when we have the results," Val stated, without waiting for her answer. "I'll follow up with who, when, and where."

"You're five for five, you say?"

"Yes." She grinned. "Not bad, considering we're just getting started."

"Let's hope I don't break your streak."

"None of that negative talk. It's self-defeating," Val chided gently. "And most of us girls don't need help with that."

"I'll try," Fiona agreed. "But now I really must go, or I'll be late for my next client."

Sweet, spontaneous Esme hugged her goodbye. "I'm so glad we ran into you, Fiona."

"We'll let you go. I have to get back, too." Val linked arms with her much taller friend, and, much brighter than when they'd arrived, they smiled and waved while walking away.