Page 45 of Her Boss

Keenan pointed. “Look, in the gap in the leaves. See?”

I scanned the path ahead, either side crowded by thick laurel hedges completely obscuring whatever lay beyond. The hedges were so high that we could only spot the rooflines of the houses beyond, whose lot lines our particular section of trail ran along.

Then I saw it. “Well… look at that.”

Genie’s catch of breath told me she’d spotted it, too.

Holy shit, this place.

Through a break in the hedge on the right side, a concrete walk intersected with the trail. A carved wooden sign, sun-faded, was staked in the grass at that intersection. Embossed on the sign in block letters burnt into the wood were the words:

Rest Station

Water Available

A fountain burbled up from the center of an ornate concrete basin next to the sign.

It was rather delightful that the town would be so thoughtful as to install water stations along what was, essentially, a secret foot path.

But that wasn’t at all what caught our attention.

For crouched right next to the fountain, as naked as the day she was born was a lovely, pale blonde woman. Judging by the swells of what appeared to be generous breasts (mostly hidden by the fall of her long hair) and lush thighs and hips, the girl appeared to be quite shapely indeed.

A stainless-steel bowl was placed on the pavement at the base of the fountain. On her knees, the young woman held the long locks of straw-colored hair out of the way as she dipped her head low… and licked water out of the bowl. Twin points of scarlet stained her cheeks, signifying that her primitive debasement did have quite a profound effect on the woman.

That wasn’t all, though.

Two tall men, one dressed in jeans and a polo, sipping from a steaming mug, the other a fair-haired man in a t-shirt and warm-ups stood over her. The man in the dark polo, who appeared to be slightly older, held something else in his other hand.

“Is that what I think it is?” Genie murmured in my ear.

I didn’t need to answer, for it was obvious. Descending from the man’s fist was a straight black length of leather, a square flapper at the end of it. It was a riding crop.

“What’s the story here?” I said quietly to Keenan.

“Charlie and Devin Winters. Brothers. Charlie is the older one holding the crop. Their girl is Clara.”

“Their girl?”

Keenan grinned. “I’ll tell you in a second. Need to check my phone.” He shoved a hand into the inside pocket of his suitcoat. “Hang on.”

“What… are they doing?” Genie said, her quiet voice almost conspiratorial, despite the fact that all three of the people before them were no more than twenty paces away and could have easily seen us just by looking up.

But their attention was understandably focused elsewhere.

Now and then, Charlie stroked Clara’s upturned bare flank with the flapper of the crop as he watched her, the young woman’s almost translucent skin well marked in places with several swellings in various shades of pink and mauve.

Slipping his phone back in his coat, Keenan returned his attention to the tableau ahead. “Interesting story. Charlie and Devin, as their coming home present after graduating college—both boys had attended school around the same time. Charlie’s only eleven months older.” Keenan winked. “Irish twins.”

I chuckled at the term.

Clara bent down once more, lapping at the water in the bowl. Devin dropped to a crouch beside her, saying something I couldn’t make out, his hand smoothing gently over the welts decorating her broad bottom.

“Anyway, their dad—Bruce is his name—promised them he’d purchase one of the applicants from the Walk that was scheduled to happen just before the boys were supposed to head off to school.”

“Walk?”

Keenan waved his hand. “Long story. It’s a little ritual the town does now and then. I’ll have to bring you back out here next time one is supposed to happen. It’s quite the, ah, spectacle.”

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