Page 45 of Temptation at Randy's

I squealed. “What do you mean, they know?”

They just chuckled in response. “Nothing sinister. Everyone just knows everyone around here.”

Huh.

I supposed that made sense, but it still didn’t make the heat from my cheeks dissipate as Claude took my hand again and led me toward one of the circular couches a few people were sitting around.

Sitting was a generous way of putting it, though. It looked more like a bunch of bisexuals had claimed the couch, and none of them had any interest in breaking away from the stereotype that we didn’t know how to sit down.

I dug it, not going to lie.

Claude didn’t let go of my hand even after we reached the eclectic group—not even when they were met with a bunch of quirked eyebrows and sly smiles.

“Don’t be assholes,” they grumbled. There were a few chuckles. “Is this really how you all greet someone after they haven’t visited in a month?”

“So dramatic,” one of the people drawled. They had a green mohawk and wore a leather ensemble that made them look like they’d come out of a documentary on punks in the 90s. “It’s your own fault if you don’t make time for us.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Claude rolled their eyes, but their lips were tilted into a smile. “Arlene, this is Clay. He uses he/they pronouns and is a pain in the ass.”

“I’m not.” Clay mock-gasped before they winked at me. “I can dole it out, though.”

“Uh…” I was going to combust.

“Thisis why I don’t make time for you.” Claude sighed in complete exasperation. “And you’re not doing anything to her, we clear?”

Clay pouted. “But she’s cute.”

“Too bad.”

I swallowed. My hand squeezed Claude’s tighter. They seemed to be okay bantering with Clay, but I wasn’t good at that, and the other three people around the couch didn’t look like they were much better behaved.

I needed a minute to breathe.

Maybe I should’ve listened to Dylan. If he were here, he’d be drawing all attention to himself, which would give me the chance to do just that.

TWELVE

Claude

“What’s going on?”

Something was going on with her. I’d been trying to figure it out for the past ten minutes, but no luck. No, I wasn’t proud of it. Asking and drawing attention to it, was the last thing I’d wanted, but… Desperate measures, and all that.

After introductions were out of the way, and Clay proved how desperate he was for any and all kinds of attention—and, let’s face it, how loud he was begging for a punishment I had no interest in giving him—we’d moved to a different couch.

It didn’t take a genius to know Arlene didn’t do great in crowds. I thought she’d relax when it was just the two of us, but so far, she was as strung tight as she’d been before.

“Sorry.” Arlene licked her lips. “I just got more overwhelmed than I thought I would.”

I absorbed the words. What did she want me to do? We’d just sat down with our drinks. Our legs brushed against each other, which I was very aware of. Should I be touching her more? Maybe I should’ve discussed if she wanted me to be in more of a Domm role. I could ask her to go on her knees or something. Well, I could have. I wasn’t doing it now; it was too late, and I wasn’t negotiating anything when she was this tense.

“Did you want to leave?” I tried.

We’d barely been here, and I’d hate it if she left with a bad taste in her mouth, but she shouldn’t push herself too much if it wasn’t working.

“What?” She frowned, her finger frozen where she’d been tracing the rim of the glass. “No. N-no. It’s not that.”

“What is it, then?”

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