Over the Line (14 page)

“Last time was red velvet,” Marleen added.

“See?” Leaundra added. “I’ve been traditional and it didn’t work. So green tea it is. At least it’s better than pineapple.”

Marleen and Sydney exchanged glances.

“This is what my life has become,” Leaundra added from her perch of four-inch heels. “Please, I beg you, let me live vicariously through you.”

Obviously getting no reprieve from that quarter, Sydney turned to Marleen. “You’ve always got fantastic stories about perverted judges.”

“You’re not getting out of this,” Marleen said. “Later tonight I’ll tell you about Judge Samuels and what he was wearing under his robe.” She filled her glass and lifted it in mock salute.

Sydney and Leaundra dutifully followed suit. They pretended to clink the glasses together, but all of them moving was too much work.

After a sip, Marleen said, “We want to hear about Mr Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down.”

“There’s not much to tell. He’s not any different from other guys I play with at the Den.”

“Well, we like those stories too, right, Lea?”

“Damn straight. And he’s the first guy you’ve gone home with since Lewis.”

“He was a loser,” Marleen added helpfully. “We should have tattooed a capital L on his forehead while he was asleep.”

There was nothing like hanging out with friends she’d known since her late teens.

“So, about Michael,” Leaundra prompted.

“Master Michael,” she corrected automatically.

“Hmm,” Marleen said.

“You went to the Den, right? Was the hunky Gregorio character…?” Lea trailed off. “Is he single?”

“You’re getting married.”

“Oh. Right. I digress. Gregorio warned Master Michael about you, but he approached you anyway. Brave man. Then you talked?”

She sipped. “Yes.”

“And went to his ranch in the middle of nowhere. You spent the night.”

Sydney nodded.

“You met his goat. Then he cooked you breakfast. And you left without giving him your phone number.”

“Correct.”

“You left out the part where you got the welts on the backs of your thighs, chickie. Saw them at the swimming pool.”

“You should become a private investigator,” Marleen said with a raised brow. “If Jack doesn’t work out—”

“John. This one is named John.”

“I’ll hire you.”

“I may take you up on it. Do I need a licence or something?”

Sydney grabbed one of the chocolate chip cookies they’d snagged from the lobby at check-in. They’d split the cost of the room three ways, and that was the only reason she’d been able to afford to stay at such a fancy place. If it weren’t for her friends, she’d never pay more than fifty dollars a night for a room.

“So, about the welts,” Leaundra prompted.

“We had a small scene outside at the Den to see if we were compatible.”

“Outside?”

“He had me bend over a fence.”

“
Out
side? Like your pants were down and everything?”

“My dress was lifted up.”

“Could other people see?”

“Probably not. It was getting close to dark, and we were away from the main house.” But the remembrance of others potentially witnessing her humiliation sent a thrill through her. She hadn’t suspected that would be something she’d enjoy, but the more she thought about it, the more she liked it.

She took a bite of the cookie and washed it down with wine. She was sure she felt a toothache coming on from all the sugar. “I liked the way he treated me well enough to agree to go home with him.” She held up a hand before Marleen could become overprotective. Over the years, Leaundra had stood on the side lines and encouraged Sydney to do crazy things. Marleen would simply start reciting a list of concerns as long as a legal disclaimer. “Before we left, Master Damien took me aside and told me to call if I needed anything. He offered to come and get me if needed.”

“Could he have sent Gregorio?”

Sydney laughed. Leaundra saved every conversation from getting too serious.

“Were you your normal, bratty self?”

“Hey!” Sydney protested.

“I’m sure she was guilty as charged,” Marleen added.

“Some friends you two are.”

“Chickie, who knows you like we do?”

No one. Neither had judged her lifestyle choices, and they’d both listened to her sob over the phone when the relationship with Lewis had ended. In fact it had been Marleen who’d found the jeweller to cut the silver collar off Sydney’s neck.

“So did he try to make you stand in the corner like Lewis did?” Marleen asked.

“Loser,” Leaundra added.

“You two should take this show on the road. And it was much worse than that.”

“Worse?” Marleen took a seat in an armchair. “What could be worse than a timeout?”

“Orgasm deprivation.”

“The beast!” Leaundra put her glass on the mantel and fanned herself. “Seriously?”

“Most men I know are thrilled if they can make me come,” Marleen said. “I can’t imagine any of them trying to stop the big O from happening.”

Sydney finished off the cookie. She rubbed the crumbs from her hands. There was nothing like good friends to cheer you up. “It really sucks,” she confessed.

“So then what?” Leaundra said. “He has a ranch. He has to know stuff about ropes.”

“He does.” She recalled him tying her to his massive bed. Then her wayward brain supplied an image of her being secured to his fence while he used a flogger on her. She still wanted to try that. The man knew her all too well, it seemed. He’d left her wanting more, anticipating something she’d never tried.

“When do we get to the welts part?”

“Those were probably from his belt.”

Marleen shuddered. Leaundra did a little dance.

“I want to go to the Den with you.”

“You’re getting married,” Sydney reminded her friend for the second time in less than ten minutes.

“There is that.”

“So what went wrong?” Marleen asked, more seriously.

Sydney rolled her glass between her palms. “Nothing.”

“Did you have fun?” Leaundra demanded. “Those welts sure make it look like you did.”

“Well…yeah.”

“But you did everything possible there is to do in one night? There’s nothing left? You done used that boy up?”

“Well, maybe not,” Sydney admitted.

“Did he put anything up your ass yet?” Leaundra asked.

“Ah…”

“He did!
Damn.
So tell me again why you don’t want to see him again? You gonna let some other girl get him?”

Sydney took a big gulp of wine.

Leaundra crossed the room with the grace of a supermodel and pulled up a chair. It was as if the friends were forming a protective half-circle around her.

She took a smaller, fortifying sip then set the glass on the coffee table. “We’re a mismatch. He owns two thousand acres of land. I own a suitcase and a ten-year-old vehicle.”

“Jeez, Syd, you’re acting as if he asked you to marry him,” Marleen said.

“What’s the point in scening?” Sydney countered. “Nothing can come of it anyway.”

“Except a good time, chickie. And you should grab as many of those as you can.”

“But he wants me to be a submissive.”

“And you just want a good whippin’.”

Leaundra told it like it was.

“What does it mean to be a submissive?” Marleen asked. “What does he want from you?”

“You could draw up a contract for her.”

Sydney shook her head.

“Does he want the same things Lewis did?”

“Loser,” Leaundra muttered.

“Like you to be on your knees when he gets home? With dinner made? And looking like a hooker?”

“Chickie, he wanted a brainless fuck-doll. This Master Michael guy made you breakfast.”

Sydney nodded. “True that.”

“I’d marry any guy who cooked for me,” Leaundra said.

“You’re going to,” Marleen said.

“See?”

“Honey,” Marleen said, leaning forwards, “you spend too much time thinking about the future and worrying.”

Sydney scowled at her friends over the rim of her glass.

“Because of a few bad experiences, you think you can’t enjoy what
is
,” Marleen continued. “You’re always looking for the next big thing. What if, just for now, you focused on today? If you see him again and have a good time, great. If you don’t dig him, move on. No harm, no foul. But don’t throw away the chance for a good time because you got a crazy idea that fucking leads to marriage.”

Sydney blinked in shock. She expected something like that to come out of Leaundra’s mouth.

“What she said.” Leaundra grabbed a cookie then sighed and put it back uneaten. “I got another wedding dress to fit into.”

“I don’t know if he’ll contact me.”

“So what if he doesn’t? He made it clear he wanted so see you again, so stop worrying about what if. Figure out a way to contact him,” Marleen said.

“You could call Gregorio,” Leaundra suggested. “Hey, if I’m going to be a PI, maybe I could do it on your behalf.”

“You’re getting married,” Sydney and Marleen said simultaneously.

“There is that.” She eyed a chocolate chip cookie. This time, she shrugged and grabbed one.

Thank God the conversation moved on.

“I want to hear about the judge,” Leaundra said, after devouring a third cookie.

“You’ll never believe it. I didn’t. But a clerk, I don’t care whether he’s reliable or not because the story is so tasty, said the judge is a bicyclist. So it’s not all that unusual for him to wear those shorts under his robe, instead of trousers.”

“I like tight shorts that show off the important stuff,” Leaundra said.

Sydney rolled her eyes.

“Well, evidently, when he took off the robe, he forgot he didn’t have shorts on.”

“Get
out
!” Leaundra exclaimed.

“And he had on this G-string type of arrangement.”

“Type of arrangement?” Sydney prodded.

Marleen’s lips quivered as if she was trying to fight back a grin. “Uh…trying to be delicate here. It had a pouch to hold the boys. And the other section was anatomically accommodating. Meaning the material stretches as you grow.”

“Do tell,” Leaundra encouraged.

“I guess he was filling it out, well, not all that impressively. He said it looked like a lime green worm. I think the clerk is in therapy.”

“A cock sock!” Leaundra exclaimed.

Sydney laughed. She’d seen a lot at the Den, but nothing quite like that.

The rest of the evening, they drank, reminisced, laughed and ate all the cookies.

When she fell onto the bed face down, she reached for her phone to shut it off only to find a text message waiting.

It was from the Den, asking for her permission to share her phone number with Master Michael.

He was definitely determined.

She felt wildly, stupidly giddy, and her hand trembled as she typed her answer. He’d gone to some trouble to track her down, and she appreciated it.

It wasn’t until the following night that she received a message from a Colorado area code with a number she didn’t recognise. She was grinning as she opened it.

There were no words, just a picture…of the stilettos Master Michael had promised he’d buy her to replace the ones his goat had absconded with. The red shoes were positioned on top of a box, and the studs that ran up the heels made her heart miss a beat.

She was astounded, first by the fact that he’d remembered to replace her shoes, and second that he’d gone to the effort of contacting her. She also appreciated that he hadn’t called and interrupted her vacation.

As she was looking at the screen, another text came through. This one had a picture of Chewie standing on a rock. There was a sign around her neck. Sydney had to zoom in to read the writing.
Sorry I was baaaaaaaaad.

Sydney groaned. He had a terrible sense of humour. But it had taken some work and creativity to get the photo. She had no idea how he’d got the four-footed eating machine to stand still for long.

She waited and waited, staring at the screen. Nothing else came through.

* * * *

The next morning, the first thing she did was look at the phone. No texts, calls or emails.

But he’d successfully managed to make sure she would think about him all day, even though she and the girls were going out for lunch then shopping for the wedding.

After a champagne cocktail, they stopped in a high-end lingerie store. While Leaundra looked for a white garter belt and stockings, Sydney found a black pleated micromini latex skirt that would look fabulous with the shoes. She purchased a zip-up bolero jacket made of the same material. It had a thick silver metal zipper and plenty of buckles. The two pieces, with the shoes, ought to get his interest.

“You’re looking like a chickie who wants to get some when she gets back to Colorado.”

“Change of heart?” Marleen asked.

“We’ll see.”

Towards the end of the day, she checked her phone.

Nothing.

When she carried her purchases to the bedroom, she snapped a picture of her ensemble, added it to a text then sent it to him.

She and the girls took a moonlight stroll along the beach.

When she returned to the hotel, the light was blinking on her cellphone. She entered her password to see his latest message. In it, he’d cleverly merged both of their shots into a single image.

The night before her flight home, he sent a single photo of a flogger hanging from the fence in front of his house.

And it wasn’t just any flogger. It was red, the same shade as her new shoes. And, God help her, the same shade as she hoped he would turn her skin.

A shudder chased its way through her body.

Suddenly she wished she didn’t have to guide a three-day hike along the Continental Divide when she got home. Damn. He was making it difficult to resist him. She was ready to see him.

She replied that she would be home in four days but wouldn’t have cell signal for much of the upcoming time.

He answered that he was looking forward to seeing her whenever it fitted her schedule.

She was at her rented Evergreen condo long enough to wash her clothes then pack for the extended hike.