Page 25 of Going Deep
Lola rolled her eyes. “Doms.”
“I have instructions, though.”
Anna’s eyebrows went up. “Oh?”
“I’m supposed to be there at nine-thirty, in the skirt I wore last night and whatever shirt I choose, with my completed list.”
Lola grinned. “Really?”
“Oh, and no underwear.” Ginger blushed, remembering the look in his eyes when he’d told her that.
Lola snickered. “You’re blushing.”
Ginger sighed, blushing harder. “I know. It’s a curse.”
“I bet Michael doesn’t think so,” Lola said with a smirk.
“I wish we were going to be there so I could watch this,” Anna complained.
“No offense, but I don’t really want you to see me naked and fucked,” Ginger told her.
Lola just raised her eyebrows. “If you think we won’t—or you won’t eventually see us—you should stop going to Odyssey now.”
“Shit.” Ginger thought for a moment. “Let’s make a pact. What happens at Odyssey stays at Odyssey.”
“Or at girls' night,” Anna chimed in.
“Or at girls' night,” Ginger agreed. “Deal?”
Anna swiped an X across her chest. “Cross my heart, hope to never get spanked again.”
Lola snorted. “A solemn oath.”
Anna reached up to poke her. “Take it.”
“Cross my heart, hope to never get spanked again,” Lola repeated obediently between snickers.
Grinning, and mentally thanking whatever guardian angel had put these delightful, wonderful women in her life, Ginger nodded. “Okay, then.”
“You have to say it, too,” Anna insisted.
“Cross my heart, hope to never get spanked again,” Ginger recited.
“We good?” Anna asked and got nods from both Lola and Ginger. “Good. What now?”
“Well, since you’re here, do you want to help me pick out a shirt for tonight?”
“Oh, yeah.” Lola hopped up. “Let’s go find something to make the big man sweat.”
Ginger climbed to her feet and led the way down the hall. “I get veto power,” she warned.
“We’ll see,” Lola said ominously.
Anna patted Ginger’s arm. “Give in now. You’ll save yourself a lot of grief.”
At nine-twenty-five that evening, Ginger strolled into the club.
She’d gotten an approving smile and a wink from Axe as he’d wrapped a white bracelet—still no colored stripes—around her wrist, boosting her confidence. She wasn’t entirely convinced that Lola’s wardrobe choice had been correct, but she’d been outvoted. The leather pencil skirt with the full-length zipper from last night was paired with a white dress shirt. It was an older shirt, the cotton soft from dozens of washings. It wasn’t tailored to be form-fitting and was just a little big, giving it a boxy, slightly masculine shape. She wore it tucked in and bloused out just a bit, adding to the impression that it was too large. Her cuffs were unbuttoned and rolled back to expose her wrists, and the buttons were undone far enough to give glimpses of the inner curves of her breasts as she moved.
