Page 8 of Hooked

Chapter 3

WHEN SHE ARRIVED ATa minute before nine, the line was out the door. A half hour later, she made it into the lobby. When she was the next to register, a man in black entered the lobby and quietly surveyed the scene. Livia had to concentrate on not staring. Under the lights, glints of red shone in his thick brown hair, and he had the most stunning midnight-blue eyes. He moved with fluid grace as he crossed to the door; the muscles of his chest and biceps strained the fabric of his black silk shirt.

“Ladies,” he began, addressing the line of women still waiting outside on the steps. His voice, as smooth as the finest Belgian chocolate, silenced their chatter instantly. “Regrettably, we are at capacity.”

There were a few grumbles of disappointment but mostly awed silence.

“To make it up to you, I have VIP vouchers for two weeks from now. Arrive by eight, and you have my personal guarantee of admittance, and a table in the lounge near the stage.”

A moment later, he stood beside Livia at the high counter. He laid his large hand with its long, broad fingers and carefully manicured nails flat on the gleaming mahogany top as he spoke to the girl checking everyone in.

“Hurry it along if you can, Astrid. I can’t hold them off much longer. Elena goes on in five, check-in completed or not.”

“Yes, Master Dex,” she answered softly, her eyes flicking to the man with unconcealed adoration.

He nodded, spared Livia a brief glance then disappeared inside the double doors behind them.

“Who was that?” she asked Astrid, her mouth gone dry.

“Isn’t he gorgeous?” the girl all but cooed. “Sadly, he’s taken. The same as all the owners, since Angie corralled Master T. He was the most elusive of the bunch. The irony, which has everyone shocked is that she was vanilla before she met him.” As if realizing she had probably shared too much, she rushed to say, “There are plenty more available doms though. Don’t you worry.”

She took Livia’s paperwork, which included of a confidentiality agreement and a mini-questionnaire and scanned it. Then she handed her a pink ribbon from the pile of pink, red, and white ones in front of her. “Wear this somewhere visible, in your hair or around your neck. The wrist is good, too.”

“What does it mean?”

“It tells interested tops and doms your experience level.”

“Pink signifying what?”

“Intermediate. White is novice and red means an old pro,” she giggled. Then her hand flew to her mouth. “Not that kind of pro. I didn’t mean—”

“I think she knows what you meant, Astrid,” said another man who had appeared out of nowhere. He was just as gorgeous as the last one, and even taller.

“I’m sorry, Master Sean. I can’t seem to keep from putting my foot in my mouth.”

“I spoke with Master J a few minutes ago. He’s on his way but running late. Maybe we can get him to work on those loose lips in the playroom after your shift tonight?”

She blanched but bowed her head dutifully. “If you think that’s best, sir.”

“Not Master J?”

Although she looked reluctant to, she shook her head and whispered, “He uses a cane.”

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