Page 7 of Praise & Paperbacks

"But the student loans," I moaned, leaning back in my seat. "I can't."

"You can do anything, babe. I've got faith in you. As long as you keep on paying your half of the rent, that is."

I laughed. "Oh shit. Don't remind me of real-world stressors at a time like this."

"Crap, I've gotta get ready for work. Love you, Mira Shah. Keep me updated," Nori said. "Stay there a little longer. Your Airbnb rented by the week, so you might as well use those days!"

"Love you, Eleanor Kwon. You're always going to be my bestie, even if I'm pissed off that you figured your life out ahead of me."

Nori cracked up. "Fuck, if you think my life is figured out, you are more unhinged than I realized."

Gunnar

Today was going tobe a good day.

The carnations were gone, Valentine's Day was over, and my favorite BDSM party of the month was just hours away. The party I regularly hosted in the back room of Malloy Customs.

Everything needed to be perfect—every leather strap in place, every shackle ready to restrain. I bit my lip as I stepped back, wondering if I'd find a new play partner at this event. I'd had many over the years, but nothing had ever stuck long-term.Lately, I'd been more into polyamorous married women — kinky sex, zero drama. Their husbands would be happily tied to a chair watching, and I got to be a dom for a few hours, then walk away. Simple and clean.

The simple life was easier.

I'd first joined the Central Coast Social Club, the little BDSM group for the local area, looking for no-strings play partners. The ample supply of willing, polyamorous married women was what got me more involved, and somehow, those same women had roped me into clearing out the conference room at our shop every months to host a party.

I finally got the loose bolts on the cross tightened, then stood back and admired my handiwork, imagining a woman writhing as I strapped her to this, begging for a rough flogging and a ride on my dick. The bell over the shop door chimed, and I smirked, wondering if a friend was here to help with setup.

But when I stepped out into the showroom, a young woman with glossy, dark hair was standing by the door, wringing her hands as she spun towards me. I recognized her immediately as Vincent Shah's daughter. I'd only met her once, and it had been four or five years since I'd last seen her, but she was pretty damn unforgettable.

When we'd first opened the shop and hired Vin, Jay had given him a lot of shit for not having a relationship with his own child. He had acquiesced, and coaxed us to join him on a trip to visit his ex-wife and surprise his daughter on her 19th birthday.We hadn't realized until we'd gotten there that Vin wouldn't be welcome, or that Vin was there to ask his ex for a loan. I'd been tempted to fire Vin after that, but we'd had orders to fulfil, and we'd needed the help.

Mira was still beautiful, of course — a vision of innocence and youth, even though she wasn't as young as she'd been when I first met her. Her skirt, patterned with tiny flowers, danced around her knees as if a gentle breeze had entered the shop with her. Her blouse, white and pristine, had a hint of sheerness to it, showing me a little of her body underneath.

"Hey. Gunnar? I'm Mira, I don't know if you remember me," she said, her words spilling out rapid-fire, like she was nervous. "We met a few years ago."

"Yeah. I remember. Looking for your dad?"

"Oh, hell no!" she yelped, then blinked, running her hands through her hair. "Sorry, that came out wrong. I mean… Is Jay around? After the radio show, I wanted to stop by and say hello."

"You're the date. From the contest." That was odd. Perhaps she hadn't recognized Jay on the KHZY website.

"Weird coincidence, right?" Something about the awkward way she'd spoken made me think it wasn't a coincidence at all. But if not to see her dad, why the fuck would Mira want a date with Jay? Could she want… nope. No. I couldn't entertain that hope.

"Jay's not in, sorry." As I spoke, my eyes skimmed over her sexy little body. She was fucking gorgeous — South Asian, with tan skin, warm brown eyes, and soft curves.

"Is he coming back soon?" There was a hopeful lilt to her words, but I could only shrug. Couldn't let myself care too much—not about a girl who was chasing my flighty brother. This girl belonged anywhere but here.

"Couldn't say," I grunted, turning towards the door leading to the back room. "You can wait if you want. Or not."

"Okay, I'll wait." She smiled, and the nervous, worried edge to that smile hit me somewhere unexpected, somewhere tender I didn't want to acknowledge. I froze, my hand on the doorknob, trying to decide how much of an asshole I should be.

"Pour yourself a coffee or something. There's a machine on the counter," I suggested before heading back to my party prep. As I returned to setting up the last-minute details for the party, setting out condoms and lube, plus sanitizing wipes for the furniture, her image lingered in my mind. Her scent—a mix of sweet perfume and something warmer, more inviting—clung to the air, taunting me.

Pulling out my phone, I dialed Jay's number with a rough press of my thumb, grumpy about the interruption. I wanted to be getting into the headspace for tonight, preparing to do my thing. It was the only release I'd found from the stresses of running a small town business. The call went straight to voicemail, and I didn't bother to hide the irritation in my voice.

"Jay, where the hell are you? Your date is back," I said, the words clipped as I spoke into the phone. "Call me, or better yet, get your ass over here and deal with her yourself." I ended the call with a jab at the screen, sliding the phone back into my pocket.

Turning back to the party preparations, I tried to focus on the setup. The room should be perfect—every chain positioned just so, every restraint tested for strength. The club members had come to expect a certain level of professionalism from my parties, and I wasn't about to disappoint. As I worked, the image of Mira sipping coffee alone in the showroom played on a loop in my mind. There was something about the way she looked at me — the way she'd looked at me the first time I'd seen her, so many years ago, that stuck in my mind.

I moved to the bondage table, setting it up at an angle in the middle of the room. Some of the members would bring their own props to my party, while others used the heavier frames and braces I carefully assembled before each event. During business hours, we used this room to meet with clients who wanted their bikes worked on, but there was a large closet in the back of the room, and I stored everything I needed in there to change the room into something far more kinky — while the conference table and chairs were stashed away, out of sight for the party.

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