Page 8 of Beneath the Surface

The idea of Brad as a Dom, ofheras a submissive. Was it real, or was it a fantasy? It was jarring and exciting at the same time. She knew she had a lot to learn, but the thought of exploring this part of herself, of researching D/s dynamics and understanding how they worked excited her. Last night had awakened something inside her, and she wasn’t sure she could ignore it anymore.

As the elevator reached her floor, Isobel exhaled, her fingers tapping lightly against her side. The cases she had to handle today demanded her focus, but her mind kept drifting back to Brad.

Isobel walked down the quiet corridor, the carpet muffling her footsteps as she approached her office door. Sliding the key into the lock, she felt an unexpected chill. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, but as she pushed the door open and scanned the room, everything appeared in its usual place. Shaking off the uneasy feeling, she moved inside and switched on the lights, illuminating the modern yet cozy space.

She headed straight to the coffee maker, needing the comforting ritual of brewing a fresh cup. Once her mug was filled with the rich, aromatic liquid, she carried it to her desk, savoring the warmth in her hands. Glancing down at her phone buzzinginsistently on her desk, she saw Brad's name flashing on the screen.

“Dr. Everhart!” she sang out, her voice bright with that effortless cheer she kept, even early in the morning.

There was a soft chuckle on the other end. “Good morning, Dr. Everhart. Or should I just call you Belle? How's your morning going?”

She relaxed, leaning back in her chair, feeling the comforting familiarity of Brad’s voice. “I think it’s still a Dr. Everhart kind of morning,” she teased back. “Nothing too exciting here yet, just the usual. How about you?”

“Oh, you know,” Brad replied, his tone relaxed but carrying something else, something almost cautious, “I’ve been thinking.”

Isobel raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Uh-oh. That sounds serious. What about?”

Brad hesitated then cleared his throat, sounding more direct than she’d heard him in a while. “About this whole situation, the case with your patient’s boyfriend. I want to know the name of that club he’s been hanging out at. I’d like to take you there; let you see it for yourself.”

Isobel’s stomach fluttered at the idea, a mixture of excitement and nerves flickering to life. “That’s… really thoughtful of you, Brad. It’s called Hot Shots. In Pierre.”

There was a pause, and she could almost picture his face, the way he’d look at her with that subtle intensity of his. “Okay, Hot Shots,” he repeated. “But, listen, if we do this, there’s one condition. You don’t leave my side. Understood?”

Isobel felt her heart skip. The way he said it, the protectiveness in his voice, sent a thrill through her. She knew he was serious, that he was aware of the risks. But it was something more—a promise of sorts.

“Understood,” her voice softened. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She heard him exhale, relieved and maybe even a little pleased.

“What do I wear?” she asked.

“Dance club clothes. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“See you then.”

Isobel's desk was a picture of organized chaos. Files and papers were neatly stacked, her computer sat ready for use, and a few personal items, a photo of her family and a small potted plant, added a personal touch. After setting her mug down, she moved to the file cabinet in the corner, pulling open a drawer and retrieving two files.

The first file was on the original case of the two deceased teenagers, a case that still niggled at her with its unresolved questions. She set it aside for later. The second file was for her first appointment of the day, the ten-year-old girl coming in with her guardian ad litem to discuss her feelings about her parents and the relapse of her childhood cancer. The case was heart-wrenching, a complex tangle of emotions and medical decisions compounded by a nasty custody battle.

Isobel took a deep breath and opened the file. Inside were detailed medical reports describing the girl's original cancer and its relapse, survival rates, and treatment options. Her eyes skimmed over the clinical language. Everything pointed to treatments, though difficult, would make her cancer survivable. Also included were descriptions of what they discussed at dinner.

She glanced at the clock, noting she had some time before her appointment. Her experience told her that understanding the family dynamics was crucial before forming any professional opinion.

Isobel knew she had to be careful. The court was relying on her professional opinion to help decide the best course of action for the girl's care. Only by hearing the four adults’ perspectivesand assessing their motivations could she provide a fair and balanced recommendation.

With her decision made, Isobel made a note to schedule these meetings. She wouldn't render her professional opinion until she had all the necessary information. Her role was to advocate for the child's best interests, a responsibility she took very seriously.

As the clock edged closer to the appointment time, Isobel closed the file and took a moment to collect her thoughts. She knew the upcoming discussion would be difficult, but she was prepared to offer the support and guidance needed. Taking a final sip of her coffee, she stood up, ready to meet the young girl and her guardian.

Isobel inhaled a deep breath before opening the door to the waiting area. She found the girl, Emma, sitting next to her guardian ad litem, Ms. Reed. Emma’s face was pale, her eyes dull. Ms. Reed, a kind-looking woman in her fifties, gave Isobel an encouraging nod.

"Good morning, Emma. Ms. Reed," Isobel greeted them with a warm smile. "Please, come in."

Emma stood up slowly, clutching a worn-out teddy bear, and followed Isobel into her office. Ms. Reed walked behind her, offering silent support. Isobel led them to a small sitting area with comfortable chairs and a low table, designed to make her young clients feel at ease.

"Would you like anything to drink? Water, juice?"

Emma shook her head, her grip on the teddy bear tightening. Ms. Reed gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "I think she's fine, thank you."

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