Page 56 of At Her Will

“Yes,” she said. “I don’t know what to make of it. So I think music and pie will give us a breather.”

“Do they have peach pie? Don’t have to be fresh. I like it out of a can, too.”

Her lips curved. He saw relief, and gratitude, that he hadn’t pressed for more.

“We’ll find out.”

When they moved toward the stairs, Lawrence had disappeared, reassured by some signal of Vera’s, or maybe he’d just recognized his presence was no longer needed.

Rev would talk to the man, though, to assure him of his intentions. This was Veracity’s family, and Lawrence was a direct line to Ros, the head of that family.

When they reached the top floor, he saw the karaoke room had a name, offered on a neon sign over the entrance to it. “The Breathing Room.” Appropriate.

As promised, there was a non-alcoholic bar that offered desserts, as well as the quick comfort foods most bars had. The stage and karaoke machine were in use, a hefty man with golden beard and blond hair doing a decent version of the Shirelles “Will You Love Me Tomorrow?”

He had backup singers, a middle-aged Asian lady with a bob cut, wearing thigh high boots and a shimmering red dress. The other woman was so pale Rev wondered when she’d last seen sunlight. She wore a schoolgirl uniform with a very short plaid skirt. She had long blonde hair, fluffed out like a lion’s mane.

While this wasn’t a play area like the floors below, the protocols were still in place. Some subs knelt at the sides of their Master or Mistress, while others stood attendance behindor next to them. But there were also people acting the way he’d expect any friends hanging out together to do.

A lean black man with gold dreadlocks rose from the table he was sharing with another man. As he headed their way, Rev saw tribal tats circling his biceps. He wore belted jeans, boots and nothing else. His torso was like a wiry cable, though he had muscled arms and well-developed shoulders.

He’d been headed toward the bar, but when he saw Vera, he detoured in her direction. Rev got the assessing look he was starting to expect, but it had a different tone from how Giorgio and other Doms had looked at him. This was more man to man, a look between equals. Two male submissives.

“We have a booth over there, Mistress, me and Trey, if you’d like to share it with us.”

“Sounds good, Sy. Who’s in the running for bragging rights tonight?”

Sy grinned. He had a wide, expressive mouth, the bones of his face cut sharp, his brows dark and thick, one pierced with a gold ring. “Tonight’s mostly been a competition for the ‘I Need To Keep My Day Job,’ award, but these three aren’t too bad. You missed an epic Bee Gees mashup with Master L and Frank, and their current pet. They’re in town from Baton Rouge on some business and decided to traumatize us with their vocal stylings. Everyone’s having a hell of a lot of fun. Converting the top floor to talent show-offs and snacks was a good idea. Mick deserves kudos on that idea. And the dessert chef they hired…wow.”

“Well, Cyn got pissed one night when her sweet tooth acted up and all they had were bowls of peppermints.”

Sy did a mock shudder. “And as we all know, when Cyn gets cranky, somebody might end up dead. You need anything from the bar?”

“Bring me a sampler tray, and a couple bottles of cold water. If they have peach pie, a slice of that. Put it on my tab.” She looked at Rev. “You want coffee with your pie?”

“Yes ma’am, that’d be fine. But I should pay.”

Sy lifted a hand. “Let it be my treat, man. I owe the TRA wonder women.”

When Sy moved away, Veracity headed for the booth he’d noted, handling the explanation along the way. “Sy and Trey are musicians. They do other jobs to support the habit, but TRA helped them broadcast their talents a little more strategically this year. It's upped their studio and band fill-in jobs. As well as their own group’s gigs.”

“What do they play?”

“They can do anything, but they like their blues, rock and jazz mix ups. Some funk.”

From Sy’s arm definition, Rev guessed the man was a drummer, and Trey did guitar or keyboard. As Vera introduced them, Rev noted Trey wore a T-shirt from one of the Frenchmen Street clubs over his jeans. He also had arm tattoos and blue eyes gazing soulfully from beneath shaggy brown hair. Rev expected Trey had no trouble catching female attention.

The man had risen from his chair and nodded deferentially to Veracity as they approached. Rev wondered if both men had done sessions with Vera here. Like what she’d just done with him, only less short, because they were obviously experienced submissives.

Rev wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Veracity slid into the booth, making room for Rev on the outside. Trey was on her other side, but with more space between him and Vera, a reassuring signal. When Sy returned, he sat next to Trey. He put the sample dessert platter and water in front of Vera, and coffee and peach pie at Rev’s elbow.

“Have what you need?” Vera asked. From the quirk of her lips, he could tell she understood it was a loaded question, but Rev gave her a warm look back and nodded.

“Yes ma’am. This looks real good.”

When conversation started up between the three, the topics mostly revolved around the musical performances, and what was happening on the floors below. Rev wasn’t excluded, but the men didn’t speak to him. Not until Vera straight out said, “You have my permission to talk to Rev directly.”

Another way the boundaries set here, the structure, took pressure and worries off of someone new like him, letting him concentrate on what his Mistress wanted.

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