Page 56 of Callback
The bartender nodded, then dashed off.
“Ah, yes. Martini, very dry. So dry, you should just swirl the vermouth in the glass and throw it out. Jude Fisher basically just wants ice cold gin, am I right?”
“Uh… I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I’m going to guess that if I’m supposed to have permission to speak to anyone, then I probably need permission to discuss his drinking habits.”
Pixie held up her hand, palm out and nodded. “Sure, sure. Makes sense. I can’t say you seem like his type, though. I’m surprised he lets you out like…this.” She punctuated the word with a flicked finger and her eyes shifted up and down my dress.
She was baiting me. It was so obvious. And also,sofreaking effective. “Does Jude have a type? I hadn’t really noticed.”
Pixie snorted and spun around, resting her elbows on the bar. “Does Jude have a type,” she repeated, laughing. “Sweetheart, for months that man has been seen with only brunettes. They had to wear leather. And they always wore the same stupid red shade of lipstick.”
An ice-cold shiver tumbled down my spine. Brunette. Leather. Red lips. They were all like—
“All to remind him of his ex-wife,” Pixie finished the thought for me.
I thought back to that first night in the hallway when we ran into Ash and this sub. I’d been wearing that dark-haired wig that Jude had been so disgusted by. It had been the first thing he wanted me to remove, along with the heavy makeup.
I glanced at Pixie through the corner of my eye, not needing to turn my head fully to see the triumph gleaming in her crystal blue eyes. I slid my hand down the silk fabric of my dress, gliding my clammy palm over my hip bone. Thank God he hadn’t given me leather to wear tonight. “Well,” I cleared my throat and tossed Pixie my most confident smirk. “I guess it’s safe to say he’s moved on.”
Pixie huffed a laugh. “Jude Fisher is a fraud. A sorry excuse for a Dom. I’d tell you to watch your back around him, but really it’s your heart you’ve got to watch out for.” She tossed her head back and guzzled the remainder of her drink in one swallow before slamming the glass on the bar and disappearing into the crowd.
A few minutes later, I was grateful to be back at Jude’s side with my sparkling water in hand. But wherever I landed in the room, I could feel Pixie’s eyes burning through me. Hell, I couldn’t even remember the girl’s name—and the nicknamePixiesomehow wasn’t cutting it. I tapped Jude’s elbow. “Who is that?” I asked, tilting my chin toward Pixie.
Jude followed my gaze. Even through the layer of his button-down shirt, I could feel the undeniable knotting of muscle under my palm. “That’s no one.”
“Is she a professional submissive?”
“Yes,” Jude said, his voice tight.
“I’d like to interview her.”
His head whipped around to look at me, startling me. “Interview Eve? Why?”
Eve.That’s right. Was that her real name? “Because who better to explain this lifestyle to me than someone who does it for a living?”
“How about someone who does it because they love it, not because it pays well,” Jude said.
“You don’t think she loves it?”
Eve was still staring directly at us and she tilted her head, a small smile splayed on her lips. She lifted her hand to her mouth, pressed a kiss to her fingers and blew it in our direction. Jude stepped into my line of sight, blocking me from Eve. “Would you stop staring, please?” he hissed.
I could’ve gotten mad. I could’ve seen his anger and bossiness as a way of trying to stifle me from learning. And a few days ago, I probably would have. But now? Now that I was getting to know Jude better, I saw right through his act. And instead of yelling back at him or storming off, I squeezed his arm harder and looked up into his green eyes. “We don’t have to do this tonight,” I said with a shrug. Truth was, Ididwant to see the public flogging. I was nervous and excited and while I didn’t envision public BDSM parties becoming a weekly event I penciled into my planner, I did have an odd fascination to learn what it was about.
But not at Jude’s expense. I liked him too much to hurt him.Again. I’d already hurt him once. His eyes lifted to mine, bright and beautiful and shock lifted in his expression. I smiled encouragingly at him and said, “We can go back to the room and order takeout. Or rehearse our lines. And do this another night. Or not.”
His eyes burned into me and a dozen emotions twisted on his face. But with a blink, his tightened features smoothed out and the pinched expression in his jaw relaxed. “They only do this on the weekends, so this is our last night for you to see it.” He paused. “Youdowant to see it, right?”
I swallowed, feeling the lump in my throat fall to my stomach and ricochet off my gut. “I do…” I said. “But not at the expense ofyou.”
He smiled at that and for the first time since he left my room that afternoon, he seemed to relax. “I’m fine, Poppy. I promise you. This room isn’t my favorite part of LnS, but if I couldn’t handle it, I would tell you. Part of that whole trust thing we keep talking about.” His smile widened and lifting a hand, he brushed my hair away from my eyes in that gentle way I was growing so fond of. “But thank you for looking out for me.”
“It’s what a good sub does, right?”
“It is.” He nodded.
Our eyes stayed latched for a few more seconds before I glanced away. “So,” I said, “when does the ‘show’ start?” With a look around the room, I noticed it was crowded enough that I didn’t feel as singled out as I did the first night in the common room… but not so crowded that the room was cramped. It was the perfect amount of people. In front of them was a stage with three steps up. On the far wall was a window and a hand rail in front of the glass—like they were in the reptile exhibit at the zoo or something. And on the wall opposite the stage was a giant mirror.
“Right about now,” Jude said, his hands falling to my hips and he spun me to face the stage. A woman crawled onto the stage on her hands and knees. Cuffs pinched her wrists and ankles so tightly, that I could see her pink flesh straining against the thick leather. A man was walking in the lead, tugging a leash that hooked to her collar. Black dress pants clung to his muscular hips and accentuated the lean muscles of his bare torso. I recognized the internet mogul from the other night in the common room and his submissive—the same woman who gave him a blowjob in front of the whole room.
