FightingforControl

Ellora’s Cave Publishing

www.ellorascave.com

Fighting for Control

ISBN 9781419934513

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Fighting for Control Copyright © 2011 Ari Thatcher

Edited by Raelene Gorlinsky

Cover design by Syneca

Electronic book publication November 2011

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Fighting for Control

Ari Thatcher

Chapter One

The door closed behind them, shutting out the noise of the
bar inside Blackie’s Dominion. Brad Collins followed his buddy Marc Quinn into
the packed parking lot. “I still think we can find a way to get her to go out
with us, or at least one of us. It’d be a start, and we could find out if she’s
open to a threesome.”

“There’s no evidence she dates at all, and there’s no way
she’d date a coworker.” Marc checked his cell phone messages as he walked.

“But, fuck, she’d be such an awesome submissive.”

Marc looked at him as if he’d grown another head. “We are
talking about Lori, right? Lori Meadows, Glacial Queen of the graphic media
department? Dude, did somebody spike your drink? I’m surprised she hasn’t
pulled out a whip at the office. She’s pure Domme, although she probably
doesn’t know it. I’d love to get together with her, but we need to leave the
Dom/sub stuff out of it. And I really doubt she’d be interested in a
threesome.”

Brad licked his lips as he pictured Lori. Tall, curvy, one
hundred percent unadulterated woman. Her red hair, cut short in a trendy bob,
had him convinced there was a fire burning inside her. She had a few years on
either of them, although he wasn’t sure how many. He preferred his women
experienced, grounded. And subservient. He was certain under her designer suits
she wore lace and silk, and he was determined to find out. “Strong women make
the best subs.”

“The most challenging, maybe, but I bet she’ll laugh you out
of her cubicle if you suggest it.”

Pushing the unlock button on his keychain, Brad walked
around to the driver’s door of his little red convertible while Marc got in the
passenger side. As Brad reached for the handle he noticed a business card
sticking up from the doorframe. Where he would normally toss aside anything
left on his car as if it were email spam, he was drawn to read this one.

1-800-DOM-help.

“Hey, get this.” He handed the card to Marc as he climbed
in.

“What’s this? Phone sex? I thought that went out with the
dawn of internet video chat.”

“It sounds like a helpline.” Brad pulled out into traffic on
the boulevard and made his way across to the left turn lane.

“Are you saying we need help with our subs?”

“Well, we are going home before midnight on a Friday night.
But I was thinking of just one sub in particular. Ms. Meadows.”

Marc’s bark of laughter filled the car, drowning out the
engine’s purr. “I told you, she won’t go for anything kinky even if you got her
out on a date. Her sex life is probably vanilla, with her Domme instincts
struggling to break free. Be prepared to spend time on your back if you succeed
in getting her into bed. And probably on your knees to get her there in the
first place.” He tossed the card onto the center console.

“Don’t lose it,” Brad said. “I want to call and find out
what it’s about.”

Marc listened to his friend’s plan but didn’t see it ever
coming about. Brad had always been the dreamer of the two. Marc was a realist.
As often as Lori showed up in his fantasies, he knew they were just
that—fantasy. Three years ago, he had hired on at Miller, Grayson and Greer,
where Lori and Brad worked, and he had long-range plans to remain there. Trying
to get a scene going with Lori could easily fuck up his career path.

He’d been a little surprised to run into Brad at Blackie’s
not long after they’d met, the first time he recalled ever meeting anyone from
his outside life inside the club. But members were known for their discretion,
and neither man mentioned the connection. One night, at the request of another
Dom, he and Brad had shared their first sub. They discovered they worked well
as a team, and the resulting sex with one woman between them had been fucking
over the top.

Threesomes were something he’d heard about but never
imagined trying. He was very possessive, so the thought of some other guy
messing with his woman was far from appealing. But something clicked when he
and Brad worked together with that first sub, and the many they’d met after through
Blackie’s. But they’d never met the one woman they wanted to have a
relationship
with, except in their fantasies about Lori.

Marc was set in his ways and saw no reason to change. But he
wasn’t going to force anyone to play by his rules. As much as he’d love to
explore Lori’s likes and dislikes outside the office, he knew there was nothing
to gain in the long run. Mixing work and D/s pleasure was never a good idea.
And as an advertising agency, Miller, Grayson and Greer was all about good
ideas.

He caught up to Lori as she was getting ready to leave
Tuesday night. “You’ve been quiet this week. Has Mr. Riggs been riding your ass
worse than usual?”

Lori laughed. “Worse? No. He’s always been consistent in
that department.”

Opening the building door, he let her pass through into the
cool evening air and helped her put on her jacket. “That’s got to be hard on
you. I know you take a lot of the guff for the department and it’s not fair to
put it all on you.”

She shrugged. “I’ve been in the department the longest, so I
guess he’s gotten used to dumping on me.”

Grinning, he grabbed her briefcase so she could dig more
easily into her huge purse. “So come join us for a drink at Blackie’s.”

She stopped, peering up at him from behind her long,
side-swept bangs. “I never know what to make of you, Quinn. Brad does most of
the talking in planning meetings so I can’t tell when you’re joking. I really
doubt the art department is getting together for drinks at a BDSM club.”

So, she knew the club. That surprised Marc. “No, not the
department, just me and Brad. Come have a drink and we’ll talk about how fun it
would be to put Mr. Riggs on the rack.”

Holding her keys after locating them, she looked at her car
and back at Marc, as if trying to decide, then shook her head. “You’re crazy.
I’m up for review next month. Do you know what being seen in a place like that
would do to my chances of a promotion?”

“The members of Blackie’s are very discreet. You’d be
surprised at whom you might see there.”

She bit her lip and Marc’s pulse sped. She was really
considering it. He never would have guessed it might be that easy to open the
door on the subject. When she shook her head again, he was more than a bit
disappointed. Opening her car door, she offered him a smile. “I can’t take the
chance. See you tomorrow.”

Marc drove home, heated some dinner, and was surfing through
the sports channels when Brad’s name showed up on his caller ID as the phone
chimed. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I called that 800 number,” Brad said. “And I asked around
at Blackie’s. It appears to be a legit service offering to connect Doms and
subs with screened partners, or help established couples work out problems in
their lifestyles.”

“Are you going to find yourself a sub?”

“I’m going to try to find
us
one. Lori.”

“Good luck with that. I asked her to come to Blackie’s for a
drink this evening and she said she couldn’t be seen anywhere like that.”

Brad laughed. “I should have known you’d take the direct
line of approach.”

“For as much good as it did.”

“Now we’ll try my way. We don’t have to push her into the
extreme fetish stuff, but I think bondage with some flogging would allow her to
hit subspace. Once she did, she’d realize what she’s been missing.”

Marc listened to Brad’s plan, even if his initial idea
sounded too simplistic. It couldn’t hurt to leave the card where she would find
it. Her curiosity might get her to call. But Marc doubted they’d ever see her
on the receiving end of a flogger.

* * * * *

By Wednesday morning, Lori was ready for the weekend. Her
boss, Mr. Riggs, the senior VP of graphic media, was apparently not getting
enough fiber in his diet and transferring his pain to her ass. He wasn’t
excited about the sport shoe account and was less than thrilled with the energy
drink ideas being tossed around. And he absolutely hated the layout she and the
guys had created for the 3D war game’s website.

That last one had him hinting at moving her to the women’s
apparel catalog department.
Women’s apparel.
That sucked! He might as
well just give her a rocking chair. At forty-two, she wasn’t ready to focus on
women’s foundation garments even if she had begun to consider buying some after
eyeing her reflection in the mirror each morning.