Finding Their Balance (3 page)

Henry expected her to make friends. Emma’d probably chosen the seating arrangements for a purpose she didn’t comprehend.

“I met—” Henry was hers. Hers and Jay’s, and no one else’s. Their love occupied a new space in her life. “Um.” Describing what they meant to her, talking about their relationship with strangers, roiled her stomach. Hell, she hadn’t fully explained things to her sister. “It was—”

“We’re being unfair, piling on Alice when she doesn’t know a thing about us.” Joan thanked Leah for pouring her tea and received a hesitant head bob in return. “We’ll come back to you, Alice. We’ve more than enough to chatter about. I have my Leo—twenty-nine years—but Kelly and Julie have yet to settle down, isn’t that so?” She talked right over their nods. “And Shannon—it’s been too long. Are you still with Bryan?”

“I am. He and Marissa are expecting a baby.” Hands flying, Shannon gestured as if every word required a push for sustenance. “I thought we’d have to cut back, but with the stress he’s been wanting a more frequent outlet.”

“Your lover’s having a baby with someone else?” Fuck. Self-censorship would be a great skill to practice. “Sorry—”

Shannon waved her off. “No need. Bryan and I aren’t lovers. He’s my dom. Marissa’s his wife.”

A flurry of questions turned the conversation lively and unstoppable. The more the others talked about their relationships, current and former, the less her nerves jangled. She even managed, without naming Henry, to admit that her current dominant was her first, and he’d introduced her to the club, and the level of attention and control he offered suited her perfectly.

Attempts to draw Leah into conversation failed, as she blushed every time Alice spoke to her. Leah’s dominant must yank the leash awfully hard. And she looked young, from Alice’s oh-so-high perch of twenty-eight.

Might’ve been Leah’s French braid. Or her baby pink shirt with the knee-length pink-and-black plaid skirt. Or the white socks with the folded-over cuffs. If Leah’s dom had picked her clothes the way Henry had chosen hers and Jay’s, the man’s schoolgirl fetish clanged loud as a fire alarm. Henry’s choices suggested the two of them formed a matched set of capable adults. Maybe Leah’s dominant dressed her in schoolgirl chic because he’d sent her to learn. Alice refrained from asking.

The women surrounding Jay wore neutral masks and plodded through inconsequential talk, nothing driving a visible reaction. He’d looked happy—well, not unhappy—serving tea. But she’d lost track of him when the conversation took off, and now he sat head bowed, shoulders hunched, and plate untouched.

Perching in his lap would go too far, but dragging her chair over? Or flat-out taking him by the hand and leaving. She’d disappoint Henry and piss off Emma, but Jay in distress trumped both.

Emma stood, and the chatter evaporated. “If you’ve finished your tea, please find a seat on the far side of the salon.” In a sweeping gesture, she encompassed the collection of chairs and short couches. “Those of you who’ve attended before undoubtedly remember our open-floor discussions of yesteryear.”

Chuckles sounded around the room, including from most of Alice’s tablemates. Awkward, stony silence marked the women at Jay’s table.

“For those who haven’t, the guiding principle is merely this: All topics are open for thoughtful conversation and assistance, so long as participants treat each other with respect.”

First at her table to stand, Alice still launched herself too slowly to catch Jay. Her table was near the windows, the sunlight filtering in through the sheers. His was nearest the door, and he zipped into the hall as if he had his bike beneath him.

Nervous as he’d been, he might’ve downed a boatload of tea and needed the bathroom. Chasing him down and embarrassing him wouldn’t win her points.

But the stairs waited that way, too. Their phones. Henry’s voice. If he’d dashed downstairs, she’d fucked up her partner duties bigtime. Narrowly propped, the door blocked her view. Resolving to give him five minutes before she went looking, she snagged a two-seater couch angled toward the door. The seconds ticked by.

Most of the women had migrated to the lounge area. Emma introduced one. Molly. Holly. Something like that. Molly, or Holly, or whoever, wanted suggestions to make her negotiations with dominants generate more fulfilling scenes.

No brilliant strategies presented themselves. She’d picked a smart-as-hell dominant and let him interrogate her for hours. And fallen in love. Some of the two dozen others handled the advice giving. Good stuff, maybe, but she’d hit four minutes on her count. Four oh one. Four oh two.

A woman sat in the space on her right. Jay’s spot.

“Hi, Alice.” Skittish-eyed Leah strung two whole words together. A whisper, but a complete sentence. “May I—” Her blush deepened. “I don’t know anyone else here.”

She almost reminded Leah she didn’t know
her
, either, because Leah hadn’t said a word during tea. “Sure.” Taking her irritation and worry out on the kid would’ve been cruel. Leah had spoken without being asked, even if her objective was Jay’s seat. Scaring her would be counterproductive. “Sure, that’s—”

Jay shuffled in the door and stopped. Shifting his weight, he scanned the room.

Fuck it.

Standing, she beckoned to him with a firm
come here
. No silly waving, tentative gestures, or curling fingers. A mimic of Henry at his most commanding, she formed a solid wall and curt demand.

Jay hustled to her side.

Reeling him in tight with one arm, she whispered, “You talk to Henry? You wanna leave?”

He shook his head, but he clung to her. Always pushing himself.

Leah’s seat poaching suddenly seemed a gift and a half. Jay needed her strength. Cupping his face, she aimed to match Henry’s gentle murmur. “Waiting pose. Relaxed, please.” Heart thumping, she sat.

He sank, his shoulders and neck relaxing. Warm and heavy, he curled against her calves and laid his head on her knee.

She brushed his hair back and settled her hand above his ear. Only then did the silence and the stares register.

“You have a sub?” A pinch-faced woman packed into a too-tight blouse glared across the circle. “Dominants aren’t supposed to be here.”

“I’m not—”

“Obviously he’s the junior.” The tall brunette who’d sat beside Jay at tea nailed condescending snob from the get-go. “She’s training the boy for her master. Or he’s a dom learning how the other half lives. You should’ve warned us, Emma. Inviting a pretender—”

“He’s not pretending anything!” She choked back the urge to swing a teapot at the queen bee’s head. Anyone who’d thought him a dom eavesdropping should’ve fucking asked. “If you’d bothered to talk to him, you’d know that.”

“Ladies. We’ve an excellent point for discussion here.” As Emma cut through the cross-talk, she projected calm pleasantry. Navigating outbursts and flaring tempers fell under her usual job description. “The purpose for our tea has been to get to know each other better. We mean to offer support and understanding.”

Alice soothed herself in Jay, in the softness of his thick hair and the wash of his breath. Even if tea had gotten as fucked up as her first night at the club, Jay at least took comfort from her presence. He wanted so damn bad to help warn players about Cal and make Henry proud.

Palm up, Emma gestured toward Ms. Queen Bee. “Wendy, the seating assignments weren’t random. You might have benefited from asking Jay about his living situation.”

The tall, bitchy brunette stared at Alice and Jay.

Clicking her tongue, Emma dropped her arm. “The relative silence from your table likely means you also missed the opportunity to speak with Claudia. Both could have suggested new ways of looking at your current difficulties.”

“You’re cubs? Long-term?” The slim, muscled woman in the jewel-green shirt had been sitting on the brunette’s other side during tea. “Co-submissives, sorry. We shortened it at our house. Long story. I’m Claudia.” With one jaunty wave at Jay, she raised her status from Team Ostracizing Bitch to potential ally. “My Charlie couldn’t get the day off work. He was so disappointed.”

Perking up, Jay delivered a hesitant return wave.

“Our master almost had to discipline him for moping. Charlie’s so overdramatic.” Beneath a cap of strawberry blond hair, Claudia wore a fond smile. “If you’re allowed, we should get together sometime. Shoot hoops.”

Imploring Alice with his eyes, Jay tumbled into the give and take of their weekly bedroom inspection. Waiting on permission unlined his face and quieted his fidgeting.

Her basketball skills hovered south of abysmal, but she’d toss up a million air balls if Jay got to hang out with another submissive guy. She nodded.

“We’ll ask Henry.” Jay, at full volume and vibrating, would for certain launch his campaign tonight. Or in the car. Hell, on the way to the car. “He’s flexible about free time.”

“I thought I recognized you two.” Far down the circle, an older woman in a tangerine dress bent forward and offered a wide smile. “Your show last month was fantastic.”

“Our show?” A phantom swat struck Alice’s ass. Meet-the-abuser night. Their reason for being here. Emma mentioning witnesses’ confusion in passing paled beside a stranger praising her for something she hadn’t done and wouldn’t have chosen.

“I saw it, too.” Voice rising as she bobbed her head, Leah flushed bright pink. “That’s how I knew who you were today. And then I got to sit right next to you.”

Emma must’ve known about Leah’s fascination when she put them side by side.

“Your show was so—” Sighing, Leah laced her fingers and tucked her thumbs inside. “I begged Master to spank me afterward, and it was amazing. He’d been wanting me to be ready, but I was too scared. And then I saw your performance.” A dreamy haze filled her pale brown eyes. “I wanted to thank you.”

Holy shit. Thank God for Jay steadying her while she fumbled for words. “But I was sobbing.” She’d lacked control over her reaction. She hadn’t been able to think her way out. “Frightened.” Scattered emotions had magnified her fears. “Childish.”

“That’s how I thought I’d be.” Rocking in the seat, Leah matched Jay at his squirmiest. “That it would hurt, and I’d disappoint Master. We’d watched so many scenes, and all the perfect subs wanted more spanking. What if I didn’t?” Lips pressed together, she curled her arms to her chest. “I got too afraid to try. But your master was so tender with you, and he”—she waved baby-pink fingernails at Jay—“was so protective. That’s what Master wanted me to understand. That he’d be loving, no matter how I reacted. That I could trust him to find my limits.”

“I’m”—astonished the girl had strung so many words together—“happy for you, Leah.” Everyone called confession good for the soul. They never mentioned the aerobic exercise slamming her chest. “But I wasn’t acting. My punishment wasn’t some show we were putting on.”

“Anyone who’s spent ten minutes talking to Calvin Gardner would know he’d never play in a scene Henry created.” Across the circle, Julie draped her arm around Kelly. “Especially not as the villain. His ego’s too big.”

They both knew whom she belonged to, then. Letting her share at her own pace had been simple kindness.

“The mean one?” Wide-eyed, Leah turned toward her. “His part wasn’t scripted?”

Words failed. Alice shook her head.

Fiddling with the tail of her braid, Leah pushed into the corner of their seat. “He really tried to poach you from your master?”

“Cal’s dangerous.” If the bastard tried touching Jay again, he’d lose a hand. As Jay stroked the top of her foot alongside her sandal straps, she scratched the base of his scalp, willing love and security by osmosis. “I sure as hell wouldn’t trust him with my safety.”

From some of the horrified expressions around the circle, a hug-your-neighbor break would’ve gotten a slew of yes votes. Whispering women shifted in their seats, adjusted skirts, and brushed invisible crumbs from blouses.

“Smart.” Julie cleaved the buzzing gossip with a bitter laugh. “He’s a user. He plays nice to establish trust, and then he fucks you over so he can watch you break.”

“Get over it.” Two seats down, a pencil-skirted thirty-something with a pointed pageboy dropped her head back and huffed at the ceiling. “Sadists get an unfair stigma. If you don’t like their style, don’t play with them.”

“Sadists, I like,” Julie shot back. “Responsible ones. He isn’t. He’s all about his own mastery. No aftercare for the broken, no praise for taking what he dished out, just kick-your-welted-ass-out contempt.”

“He doesn’t respect safewords.” Jay held fast, bunching her dress in his fingers. “He wants to make you scream it, not ’cause he cares about testing boundaries, but so he can gorge himself on that moment after.”

As she glanced up, she met Emma’s gaze.

Emma winced and closed her eyes.

Slowing, Jay curled his shoulders inward. “The one when you realize he’s not stopping.” His hair slipped sideways, exposing the back of his neck. “When you know you aren’t anything.” Hollowed and dull, his voice dwindled like a fading song. “You were never anything.”

So fucking wrong. Channeling Henry’s patient courage, she swallowed her protests and reassurances. He’d worked hard to give Jay this chance to grow. Before their return visit, Jay would’ve been horrified and ashamed to share even with his lovers. Now his truths streamed out in front of strangers he hoped to help. Pride shouldn’t hurt so much.

Pixie-haired Kelly tugged at her white Capri pants and clasped her hands in her lap. “I played with him. About seven years ago.”

Before Jay. She aborted her instinctive reach for him. Whatever Kelly meant to tell would be difficult for him to hear. Hard for everyone in the room, even the skeptics, because no one wanted to imagine themselves in a nightmare.

“He hadn’t learned to hide himself yet.” Biting her lip, Kelly traded a glance with Julie. The two women looked at Jay, at her, and at Emma.

“I think it’s time.” Emma, her gentle voice at odds with her pin-straight posture, crossed her ankles and smoothed her dress. “If you’re both ready.”

Jesus. Not only the seating arrangements but the whole guest list had been deliberate. Handpicked for specific criteria—knowledge of Cal, social standing in the club, ability to spread gossip. Factors Emma would’ve accounted for, invisible to the club at large but familiar and intimate for the woman who handled the secrets and tidied the messes.