The Dom's Dilemma (2 page)

Chapter Two

"You what?"
Claudio tucked his t-shirt into
his black denim jeans and looked up at the two men standing in front of if him.
"You know what I am, right?"

Athol
nodded. "That's why you'd be perfect to show her the ropes."

"Literally?"
Claudio picked up a new, still
in its wrapping Shibari rope and tossed it from side to side.
"With a side order of scribing?"

Edan
shrugged. "We don't know if she knows what she wants, but we reckon
to…"

"Throw
her into the deep end? Sink or swim?"

Athol
nodded.
"Yeah."

Claudio
ran through his commitments in his head. Athol and Edan had been good friends
right from the start, but a daughter? That was a curve ball of the highest
order. "I'm guessing one of you will want to be dungeon master?" To
his surprise they both shook their heads.

"Oh
no," Athol shuddered. "It's bad enough knowing our little girl is
kinky like us, we don't want to see it. Nah, you choose your own. We've just
agreed not to block her membership and to ask you to do the honors."

Put
like that, Claudio accepted there wasn't much else he could say except,
"Yeah, sure.
So not an intro night, a regular one?
Or shall I ask Linsey for an evening to
ourselves
?"

"That'd
be better," Edan said. "It's not orthodox, but then what is? Let's
face it, Ede and I
aren't
really up to knowing a
woman's mind. It’s a deep, dark mysterious place, full of pitfalls."

 
Claudio tied his long dark hair back into a
plait and let it swing over his shoulders and down his back. "Well having
two dads sure isn't run of the mill, and who does know the way a woman thinks?
Except the woman."

"She
has three dads, not two, and it's a long story, which isn't relevant,"
Edan said. "So will you contact her?"

Claudio
nodded. "Sure." Damn, he was beginning to sound like an automated
toy, which had a limited vocabulary. "It'll have to be the week after
next. I'm in Greece next week for a family wedding.
Strictly
vanilla.
My second cousin Thassos is marrying Maria, sister of my
childhood friend Draco. I used to spend half my holidays in Greece, half in
Italy. I dreamed of going to Ayr." He smiled.
"Typical
kid.
But Draco and I, we go way back. Now it's his wedding.
Food, drink and dancing, and for me, dodging matchmaking mamas.
This will give me something else to think of other than, 'yeah send me your
daughter, niece, cousin, or whoever, and tell me, would she prefer edge play or
flogging?’"

Claudio
rolled his eyes and picked up his wallet. Athol chuckled and Edan shook his
head.

"At
least you're not gay, and having that shoved at you."

 
"True enough, I'll be thankful for small
mercies then. Meanwhile, I'll check with Linsey what nights are free. I'm
guessing your daughter may have a preference as to which evening?" It
occurred to him he didn't even know her name. "And I'll need some basic
info. Like her name and email addy."

Athol
laughed. "Duh, true. Her name is Seonagh
McMath,
she's twenty five, redheaded with a temper to match. She runs a café and
bookshop, and her late nights are Thursday and Friday. Oh and she insists on a
meet up there first, with us two as back up I guess."

Shit,
that was all he fucking needed. Meeting someone he was going to perhaps flog
and scribe, drip wax over and goodness knows what else, judge and be judged,
and
have her parents there. Well two of them anyway.

"Which
one of you is her birth father?"

Athol
looked at Edan and then they both shrugged.

"No
idea, we were in a menage with her mum at the time." Edan said.

It
figured.

"And
her mum's married so she has a stepdad," Athol added.
"Happy
families.
And that's not a misnomer. We're godparents to her younger
brother."

Okay.
Complicated—not.

"Here's
her card, it's got all you need in it."

Claudio
took the card and glanced t it.
Plain, elegant and classy.
Books n
Browse.
Seonagh McMath…etc. etc.
He tucked it into his pocket. He needed to move, but he had one last question
first.
"McMath?"

Athol
nodded.
"Her mum's name.
We were late to the
party." His tone brooked no more questions and Claudio decided to honor
it. After all didn't they all have secrets?

He'd
find out more when he wanted to.

****

Ten
days later Claudio flung his suit carrier on the bed, and kicked off his shoes.
He wriggled his toes and reveled in the freedom. Claudio hated shoes with a
vengeance, and preferred to go barefoot whenever possible, or if not, only wear
flip-flops.

It
had been a hectic few days in Crete, with numerous aunts, uncles, and assorted
other relatives asking him when they'd be dancing at his wedding. He'd smiled
and given non-committal answers. After all, 'never unless I meet a masochist to
match my sadistic tendencies', might not go down too well, except with his
great aunt Maria. She'd looked him up and down, smiled, and patted his
shoulder.

 
"A good boy.
Master of all you desire, I wager." Then just before he left, handed him a
tiny, sharp knife. "It was your great uncle’s," she said. "Use
it with pride." She pushed the sleeve of her dress up, and showed him a
tiny scar in the shape of a heart. "He was an artist. I think you have his
talents."

The
knife was tucked into his wallet.

He
wandered into the kitchen and rooted out a bottle of 25 year old Highland Park
whisky and poured a generous measure mixed with the correct amount of water.
He'd had more than enough Greek brandy and beer to last a life time, and
reckoned he would have put on a stone if he hadn't fed an a assortment of local
cats surreptitiously under the table, and jogged every morning along the beach.

Claudio
flicked through his emails as he searched in the freezer for the lasagna his
Italian
nonna
had pressed on him the last time he'd
visited. With his half Greek, half Italian heritage, and a plethora of
excitable Mediterranean females in his extended family, food and advice was
always freely given.
Whether you wanted it or not.
His
nonna—grandmother—was convinced he didn't cook, which was true enough, and
insisted on filling his freezer. Hence the reason he didn't cook.

One
email caught his eye as he shoved the food into the oven.
Seonagh.McMath.
A nice and simple, not stupid email address.
He'd seen enough of those
to last him a lifetime, and it put him off the senders’ big time.

Once
he'd clicked the oven shut Claudio opened the email. It was straight and to the
point.

"Thank
you for your email. The 13
^th
at 7.30 will be perfect. Ring the bell.
Thank you for agreeing to do this. Seonagh McMath.

 
That was all. Evidently Ms. McMath was a woman
of few words who got to the point—he liked that.

Claudio
typed out and sent a brief acknowledgement as he waited for his food to cook.
Once he'd eaten, he forgot her as he attended to the backlog of emails
regarding his work as an illustrator. Ten days away was nine too many to not
fall behind. He really needed to slow down, and smell the daisies—or the
leather of a new flogger.

That
thought, of course brought his mind back to Dommissimma and Seonagh. If the
meeting at her shop was satisfactory, he'd confirm the tentative booking he'd
made for the following Wednesday at the club. It could be interesting to say
the least.
 
Fiona and Lizzie, Domme and
sub had offered to be dungeon master and sub buddy, and he knew fine well
Linsey, or Tay, her co-owner would be around somewhere.
Probably
in the monitor room.
For a private BDSM 101 session, there would still
be a fair few people about. Some might say it was overkill. Claudio wouldn't.
Not since a friend had almost been had up for grievous bodily harm many years
ago. There was no such thing as too much security as far as Claudio was
concerned.

 
Especially with Athol and
Edan's daughter.
Bloody scary, I must be a masochist as well as a
sadist, agreeing to this.
However
he knew they would have covered everything with Seonagh before approaching him.

It
didn't stop him dressing carefully for their meeting.

Seonagh's
shop was in a small town around twenty miles from Dommissimma and ten from his
own home. As Claudio worked from a purpose built studio attached to his house,
his commute was twenty yards. He'd deliberately created a covered walkway so he
had no excuses about bad weather, and not going out in it. It also saved him
time at either end of the day. As he frequently forgot the time, he'd set the
alarm on his phone.

True
to type, he needed it, and he had to resist adding just a few more strokes to
his latest illustration.

He
hated being late.

Luckily
he wasn't. He drew up outside the shop five minutes early. The closed sign was
up, but a light inside showed him the place wasn't empty. He looked
around,
expecting to see Athol or Edan's car, but the street
was deserted. Maybe there was a private car park behind. Whatever, he was here,
so he'd go in.

Claudio
slid his legs to the tarmac and got out of his Porsche. Okay, he accepted it
was fucking poser central, but he loved it, and fuck those who didn't. His car
was not penile envy. It was a good-looking, fast driving way of getting from A
to B. Even if he did have to obey the speed limit, and control the throbbing
engine.

He
raised a mental eyebrow at that thought.
Penile envy and a
throbbing engine?
Athol would have a field day with that notion.

Claudio
smiled to himself as he flicked the button to lock his car, and then walked the
five steps to the door.

Why
oh why did people think to hide the doorbell? Shop or not, it still needed to
be findable.

Claudio
searched up and down the doorjamb, for that elusive button.
Nothing.

"Well,
ring the bell why don't you?
That big brass thingy next to
your head.
With a clapper and string—well clanger
thingy."

He
spun around and laughed at the red headed, green eyed, hot as Hades woman, in a
long green and blue patterned dress and if he judged correctly, no bra, who had
appeared next to him, as if by magic.
"Clanger
thingy?"

She
giggled and her eyes lit up. "Whatever. Sorry, I dashed to the Co-op for
milk. I think I've had every milk drinker in the country pass through today and
ask for a glassful." She unlocked the door." I'm down to half a
pint."

Claudio
swung the clapper of the bell and admired the deep resounding noise it made.
How he had missed that he had no idea.

"Hello,
welcome." Seonagh, he guessed—hoped—it was her, held the door open.
"You, I assume are Claudio? Or I've just let some random in, and the dads
will kill me."

He
nodded. "Not a wise thing,
agapitos
.
You need to be more
careful."

The
rebuke was obvious and she colored. "True but I have a killer left jab,
kyrios
and a set of car keys at the perfect angle to maim. And as yet, I am not
your dear. I may never be."

"You
speak Greek?" he asked her in that language.

She
nodded, and replied in the same tongue.
"A little.
I did languages at uni. Italian and Spanish mainly, but I took Greek as an
extra. It was handy on holiday to be able to say, 'Oy mate I never ordered
that'."

He
smiled. He knew well, how some restaurants added dishes and charged them.

"Something
you would never do," he said in rapid Italian.

"Exactly,"
she replied in English, albeit with an enchanting, soft Scottish accent.
"Anyway come in. I need to talk to you before the dads get here."

That
intrigued him.

"So,
speak." He followed her through the café and bookshop to a comfortable
lounge behind the shop. "You live here?"

"Did.
This bit's soon going to be incorporated into the shop and upstairs will be a
studio to rent out. I've bought a house." She didn't say where. "Take
a seat, and I'll make some coffee." She walked toward a door at the back
of the room and opened it. She paused with one hand on the doorjamb. "Look,
are you really happy with doing this? I know the dads. When they club together,
they can be a bit, well let's call it overpowering for want of a better
word."