Page 23 of Room 13: Bred By the Bears

“Obviously,” I snapped. The churlish heat in my voice apparent even to my ears. “It’s a fantasy, Chantilly. Literally what every single person at the club is indulging in.”

Silence hung like a death sentence between us. Chantilly was my best friend. Had been for ages. She would never judge me for what fantasies I indulged in. But, for some reason the way she phrased her question poked me. I’d just opened my mouth to apologize when she took a deep breath as if to reset and continued on our conversation as if nothing had happened.

“See…now why can’t I find someone like that? Instead of being presented to Daddy’s business associates like some prized mare at the 4H auction. Herman Littleton. What the hell kind of name is Herman? He probably wears socks when he has sex and only does missionary.”

“He probably prays before sex. For the lord to shower you in his seed, can I get an amen.” I slapped the table like her father’s minister friend did.

“Oh god. What if he’s one of those ultra-religious guys that has sex through a sheet? You know like the one we saw in that crazy sex museum we visited.”

I nearly choked on my coffee.

“I’m pretty sure those sex sheets were like from puritanical times. Like Nathaniel Hawthorne, first pilgrims to come to the Americas. I highly doubt anyone has a sex sheet. And who knows. Just because your dad is super religious doesn’t mean all his friends are. For all you know this Herman Littleton is a member of the club and will worship at your feet and call you Mistress.”

“Now there is a thought I would not say no to. I have this pair of super shiny, purple, thigh high boots with a four-inch heel. Maybe I should wear those on our date and see how he reacts.”

“If there isn’t a better way to suss out your dad’s set ups, I don’t know what is. If he hates them and tells your dad thanks but no thanks, all it cost you was an evening out and some conversation. I say go for it.”

The two of us cackled like a pair of old hens. A shock of hair the color of burning embers caught my eye in the periphery. Ryker and Obi, walking down the street, casually discussing something businessesy based on the focused concentration the two of them had.

Me: Spotted, two fine male specimens walking Royal Street like it owes them something ??????

Ryker: It does. I’m owed a private inspection of my mate’s lady parts. I’ve come to collect.

Obi: Where are you Pet?

Me: It’s a shame you don’t have your primal with you. I’m sure he could track me down with little effort.

Armel: I already know where you are. It’s too bad that your other mates haven’t figured out how to use the tiny computers they’re texting you from… should I tell them, Little Cub? I think it’s more fun to watch the stream and see how long it takes for them to figure it out.

Ryker: ????

Obi: ????‍??

“Areyou seriously texting your men during our girl time?” Chantilly pulled my focus back to the present.

“I just saw Ryker walk past. Don’t forget he’s also my client. Or well, the client of the hotel I’m decorating. Since he’s heading down Royal, he must be on his way over there.”

“Fine.” Chantilly heaved a dramatic sigh. “I should probably get back to work anyway. God forbid I take longer than an hour for my lunch. Because nepotism.”

We stood and hugged, and just as she turned to leave, I heard the door of the shop swoosh open. The door of course had opened and closed a million times over the course of time that Chantilly and I had been sitting catching up. But there was something in the way the door opened, in the shift of air particles in a masculine and aggressive manner that told me exactly who entered the café.

“You are in big trouble, sweet thing.” Ryker growled into my ear, leaning over the back of my chair, and nipping at my lobe.

“Feeling awfully sassy for someone who has a six-inch plug in their abused little cunny,” Obi whispered in my other ear before stalking around the front of the table and taking me in.

The pair of them. They were a statement on their own. But put them together, with their heated stares, and cocky smiles. Would there ever come a time where I saw them and didn’t want to fuck them? I hoped not.

“As much as I would love to steal away for some funishment.” I sighed, waving at our server for the check. “I have loads of work to do this afternoon. Such a shame.”

Ryker held up his AMEX as my server approached, without even looking at her, or the bill. Not as if those two cups of coffee and a pastry tray broke the bank. But, that he did so without hesitation turned my insides molten.

“Part of that work, sweet thing, is a meeting with us. At two-thirty. Your assistant put it on your calendar, she assured me. We’re here to collect you.”

I glanced at my iPhone, vaguely aware of a two-thirty. I never checked the finer details of it and sure enough, plain as day, a meeting with the two of them to discuss the progress of commissioned pieces. It was their fault. The reason I barely paid attention to my calendar. If my whole being was wrapped around the tawdry things they did to my body, I’d have enough of my senses to actuallybea capable and fully functioning business woman.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to take the meeting in the hotel? So we can get a feel for the space?”

Obi extended his hand, helping me out of my chair. “We have enough pictures of the space to create an FBI case file. What we need is you to witness the creation and evolution of the pieces first hand. The pieces are at a place where they can still be changed if you feel we need to go in a different direction. Another few days and they will be fully formed and if you didn’t like them the entire piece would have to be scrapped.”

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