Page 49 of What About Love

Giving his word to adhere to the limits the Master Dom had set, he offered Angie his hand. A verbal contract to play having been struck, she took it and let him lead her away.

“Gotta say that was a little odd. What I imagine negotiating a bride price must have been like long, long ago.”

He chuckled. “Negotiation is exactly what we call it, and absolutely necessary before you play with anyone. If you get nothing else out of our time together, take that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You voice is shaking. Am I so scary, little one?”

“You aren’t, sir.” She waved her hand, indicating the vast play space. “The club, however, is a little scary.”

“Some of that is intentional, pretty girl. Like those gothic doors. Even those give an old pro like me the willies. But I hope you’re not so frightened there isn’t some excitement mixed in as well.”

“Oh no, sir. This is all very exciting.” She kind of ruined her declaration when a shrill cry rent the air and she jumped a foot off the floor.

He steered her in another direction. “Electric play is a bit advanced for you, I should think. How do you feel about hot wax?”

***

TSTOOD AT THE BENDin the circuit near the back wall. From his vantage point, he could see the entrance, the booths stretching down the long wall, and the stations across from them. He also saw when George Atkins led Angie to a private booth.

The older dom was exactly who he would have chosen for her. Experienced, not into anything weird or too extreme, he was well-respected by subs and doms alike. Known for being more about pleasure than pain, he wasn’t a control freak but could be stern when he needed to be.

So why did he want to separate his head from his shoulders when he slid into the same side of the booth with Angie? Once seated, George turned his back to the room.Smooth move, old man. It gave them privacy without having to draw the curtains but kept out curiosity seekers. Unfortunately, his back blocked his view, too.

Shifting his position didn’t help, other than to give him a better angle on George. Even then, he couldn’t see her, except for the lock of her long hair which the other dom was winding around his finger.

Irked by the overly familiar gesture, T could only imagine how he’d feel when an actual scene began and more intimate touching followed.

Feeling wired, he knew his annoyance showed on his face, mostly because of the wide berth other members were giving him. He tried to lock it down, attempting to smooth out his features as he covertly observed the pair while circulating nearby. But he found feigning interest in the other scenes difficult. All he could think about was George touching what he wanted to, and his eyes returned to their booth again and again.

When a dom he’d mentored during a previous visit stopped to say hello and filled him in on several pieces of new equipment and the changes to the theme rooms upstairs since his last visit, all of which he already knew as an owner, he welcomed the distraction. As he spoke, T half listened while his gaze swept the room, but his focus kept returning to the booth in the corner.

When he next checked, George had shifted closer, giving him a clear shot of them both so he saw when he slipped an arm around her shoulders and lightly brushed his hand over her cheek.

The tender touch had T bristling with annoyance.

“Master T.” A throaty feminine voice drew his attention to the floor in front of him. “It’s so good to have you back in LA You have been missed.”

The lovely blonde on her knees at his feet was familiar. He’d enjoyed her company in the past but not tonight. He wasn’t in the mood to play.

Kneeling before him, she was near perfect in her pose: head bowed, back arched slightly to show her body in the best light, palms open and resting on her parted thighs. Once, she had appealed to him but no longer. The reason came to him easily. She had no spark, no sass, and no flashing enigmatic hazel eyes.

He politely declined her implied offer and moved away.

“Have your tastes changed, Master T,” another dom who’d witnessed the interaction observed, proving he wasn’t playing his part. “I recall a suspension scene you did center stage with the lovely Lilah. Everyone in the room stopped to watch.”

“Tastes change, Dylan,” he stated simply, hoping that was explanation enough.

“Interested in a little fire, instead of a simpering slave?” His gaze shifted over his shoulder. “Too bad she’s taken, eh?”

Turning to where he indicated, T saw that Angie and her Dom had left the booth. Standing only a few feet away, they were amid an animated discussion. At one point, she folded her arms and stamped her foot, her lower lip turned down in a pout. She was a sight to behold—cute, spoiled, sassy—and in need of a sound spanking.

She portrayed a brat perfectly; her dom would lap it up like a cat with a bowl of cream.

T watched as her snit escalated. When she eventually realized misbehaving wouldn’t get her what she wanted, she whirled, her long glossy hair flying around her, and stomped away. At least she tried to, but predictably, her dom would have none of it.

He hauled his spirited brat over to an open spanking bench. Since the place was packed, and there was a line at every station, that one was conveniently available told him George already had it reserved and that their little drama was a roleplay, likely scripted during their lengthy negotiation in the booth.

---