Page 22 of Entertaining Distraction
She’d said the nickname as if she abhorred it, but Jake knew better, and he barked out a laugh. “Ha! That they do. But you do know that’s a compliment. It’s one of the things that makes you a good Dominant.” And she was—it was the main reason he’d come to his senses and agreed to stay out of her relationship with Mike. She was one of the best Dommes he’d ever known, including the one who’d trained him to be a Dom.
“Yeah, I know.” She pulled a piece of paper out of her purse and handed it to him. “Here’s Jose’s information.”
After quickly scanning the data on the page, he folded it in half. “All right, I’ll see what Nick and I can come up with—he loves playing private detective. I think for his next birthday I’m going to get him a Sherlock Holmes hat, cape, and pipe.”
“Kinky, Dr. Watson.” Standing, she patted his shoulder. “Let me get back to work. I appreciate your help, Jake ... and your support with Michael.”
He stood and followed her to the door. “Just remember to keep his junk hidden when I’m around.”
* * *
Mike watchedas Mistress China paced back and forth in front of the class. Dressed in a skin-tight, black, spandex catsuit and thigh-high, leather boots, she was sin on two legs. She’d asked him to join her this evening at the club even though it was closed on Tuesday nights. She was teaching a class with Master Stefan for new Doms and subs. While Mike couldn’t play in the club until his physical was complete, Charlotte had said it would be good for him to see the place before it was filled with members scening all over.
There were eight couples in the class in the club’s garden. The Dominants were lounging in comfortable chairs, facing the large section the instructors had roped off. The submissives were either resting on their Dom’s laps or on pillows on the floor. Mike was sitting on a chair in the roped-off area. To his immediate right, Trident Security operative Logan Reese also sat in a chair. On his lap was his scantily-clad girlfriend, Dakota Swift, a Tampa police officer. Behind the three of them was a large St. Andrew’s cross. Charlotte’s demonstration tonight involved the whip, and Mike was thanking his lucky stars it wouldn’t be his ass being lit up.
“So,” the petite Domme was saying, “...”as we have stated before, a Dom should never perform a scene with their sub they haven’t experienced for themselves.”
A man who’d been pissing Mike off by practically drooling over Charlotte snorted obnoxiously, causing her to stop in front of him and cross her arms. “Problem, Master Roy?”
Mike didn’t need to see her face to know she was glaring at the man, who shrugged in response. “There’s no way I’m letting some chick whip me.”
“Why’s that? Because all women are beneath you?”
His eyes narrowed, but the stupid idiot didn’t know when to keep his big mouth shut. “No. I’m just not some wimp who needs to be whipped by my mommy. And, seriously, how hard is it to learn how to crack a whip?”
Whatever faint chatter there’d been among the other students ground to a halt as everyone stared at the ignorant bastard and the Domme who was clearly trying to stop herself from kicking his ass out the door. Master Stefan rolled his eyes and shook his head in disgust, but didn’t interfere. Instead, he grabbed a straight-backed chair, spun it around, and straddled it, apparently settling in for the show that was about to start with Charlotte in the lead role.
Beside Mike, Reese groaned, while Dakota whispered just loud enough for the two men to hear. “Somebody’s gonna get it and I’m so glad I get to watch.”
Reese pinched his sub’s thigh and reprimanded her in a low voice. “Quiet, subbie.”
“Is that what you think of all the submissives in the lifestyle, Roy?” Charlotte asked the fool in front of her, and Mike noticed she’d dropped the title in front of his name. “That they’re wimps?”
The man seemed to realize he’d fucked up and tried to backtrack. “That’s not what I meant.”
“If it wasn’t what you meant, then why did it come out of your mouth?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I find most things verbalized are rarely unintentional. There’s always a portion of truth or belief behind the words. Nick, come here, please.”
Mike hadn’t seen his future brother-in-law standing in the doorway leading to the main club. Nick pushed off the door jamb he’d been leaning against and strode forward, his long, powerful legs easily eating up the distance. Several women and at least one male in the class, Dominants and subs, stared in unveiled interest at the good-looking man and his honed physique. He was dressed in comfortable, faded jeans and a dark gray T-shirt that hugged his torso and showed off his bulging arms and chest. Reaching the red, velvet rope, he stopped, spread his feet shoulder-width apart, bowed his head, and clasped his forearms with his hands behind his back in a perfect presenting position. “Yes, Mistress China?”
She began to pace the length of the roped off area again. “Nick, how long did your Dom train with a whip before he ever used it on a submissive?”
“From what Master Jake has told me, approximately eighteen months, Ma’am.”
“And during those months, how often was he, himself, whipped?”
“Approximately, once every week or two, Ma’am.”
“And does he still occasionally get whipped by another Dominant?”
“Yes, Ma’am. Over fifteen years later, he still does.”
“Before you moved back to Tampa, subbie, what was your profession?”
Mike could see the corners of Nick’s mouth tick upward, even though his head was still bowed in respect, before he said, “I was a Navy SEAL, Ma’am. Hoo-yah!”
“Your Dom was also a Navy SEAL before going into the private sector several years ago, correct?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
