The Masters of Falcon's Fantasies [BDSM Menage Fantasies 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (2 page)

“Really? Is he in the lifestyle?”

Chuck nodded. “He’s the one who got Daddy involved. He’s had a tough time for the last year. His slave died in a car accident, and he’s just now thinking about getting back into the scene. But it’s too painful for him to go to his local club, and Daddy thought maybe—”

Allie nodded. “Of course. We’d be honored to have him stay here. Tell Dave he’s always welcome. I’ve still got an extra room, and having another Dom around the place could actually be handy.” She cast a thoughtful look up the staircase. “He can come anytime.”

“Great. Thanks, Miss Allie.” Chuck gave her a boyish grin and turned to lope back to the waiting police car. About halfway there, his head swiveled to the right. His body snapped into police mode as he stalked to the edge of the driveway. Arms folded sternly, he leaned in and spoke into the bushes. There was a rustling noise and a man stood up, unsuccessfully attempting to hide a camera with a huge telephoto lens behind his back.

Allie could only hear a few words of their exchange, but she really didn’t need to. They’d been plagued by paparazzi for the last week, and, while it certainly wouldn’t have been the first picture to be taken of Daphne Monroe scampering around in her birthday suit, Allie really preferred to keep that kind of publicity away from her establishment. She had a rule that clothing was optional inside the house or barn, or in the backyard. The front lawn wasn’t exactly visible from the road, and a sign at the driveway warned visitors that they might encounter nudity if they ventured onto the premises. But someone hiding in her bushes with a camera was something quite different.

Chuck held out his hand, but his posture suggested he wasn’t being friendly. As Allie watched, the photographer reluctantly opened his camera and extracted a memory card from it, handing it over. Chuck took it and tucked it into his pocket then retrieved a small pad of paper and began taking notes. The man reluctantly pulled out his wallet and handed over his driver’s license and waited while Chuck copied the information from it. They stood there while Chuck spoke into his radio. A short time later they walked together out to the road where the journalist’s car was undoubtedly parked.

Allie sighed. If Chuck didn’t have a full-time position on the Grandpointe Police Department, she would have been seriously tempted to offer jobs to him and his friends. She giggled a little as she turned back inside, picturing a pack of human puppies, dressed in leather dog masks but little else, roaming her property to keep out reporters.

When she turned away from the door, Finn was leading Daphne back down the staircase. Daphne now had on knee-high boots and was dressed all in black as usual, with tights and a lace camisole over her bra. She looked gorgeous and seductive, except for the sulky expression on her face and a slight wobble in her step. Finn had a tight hold of her arm and an apologetic smile as they descended.

“Allie, I’m really sorry to bother you. But can you get some coffee and breakfast into Daphne while I round up the guys and go take care of that stop-sign thing? She needs to get a good rehearsal in this afternoon, and she’s—not in the best condition for working right now. The bosses aren’t going to be happy if the shooting gets delayed any more.” He kissed Daphne’s forehead, murmuring, “Why do I put up with you?” and gave her a push toward the kitchen, ignoring the middle finger that stuck up over her shoulder.

“No problem.” Allie sighed, disgusted that the girl was drunk already. She wanted to point out that it was time for lunch, not breakfast, but Finn was going out the door and the phone on the hall desk was ringing. She picked it up, trying to sound like a cheerful and professional innkeeper rather than a harassed babysitter for a troublesome celebrity.

“Clifftop Fantasies.”

“Hello?” The voice was a little hesitant, as if its owner wasn’t sure what kind of trouble she might be getting herself into by calling. “Is this the—the sex—I mean the kinky—place?”

Allie smiled. “This is Clifftop Fantasies, the BDSM resort. How can I help you?”

It was a female voice, and it gave an audible gulp before continuing. “Well, I—my partner and I—we were curious about what kind of—activities—you offer there. We saw that article about you in
Exotic Adventures Magazine
, and—I don’t know. It said you have informational weekends, where people can try out—different things. Do you have any of those coming up?”

“Well.” Allie glanced toward the kitchen door. “We’re pretty booked up for the next couple of weeks with a special group. I’ll be happy to email you our upcoming schedule with some general information.”

“Oh, that would be great!” The relief in the woman’s voice was evident. She seemed to have been expecting Allie to badger her into signing up for something dangerous or expensive. Allie hurriedly took down the email address and repeated her promise to send information before going into the kitchen. Daphne was sitting at the table with an open beer in front of her.

Allie picked up the bottle and poured the contents down the sink, ignoring Daphne’s indignant, “Hey!”

“You agreed that Finn is boss while you’re here,” Allie reminded her, turning on the coffeemaker. “And we take that kind of thing very seriously. He said coffee and lunch, and that is exactly what you’re going to get. What would you like to eat?”

Daphne pouted. “Finn’s an ass. I work better with a little alcohol in my system. And I don’t want any food.”

“It looks like you’ve already taken care of the alcohol part. And you may not want food, but you need it. You can’t work all afternoon on an empty stomach. At least have a sandwich or a salad.”

“Hmm.” Daphne jumped up and opened a cupboard door, scanning its contents before pulling out a can of tuna. “I’ll just have this.” She rummaged until she found a can opener, which Allie took from her. She suspected that the beer wasn’t Daphne’s first drink of the day, and she didn’t want to be responsible for the girl accidentally cutting herself.

“What do you want mixed in with this? And what kind of bread?”

“Nothing. And no bread.” Daphne grabbed a fork and sat down at the table to eat right from the can. “That stuff’s horribly fattening.”

Allie turned to pour coffee and hide the blush creeping up her face. She tried not to think about the pictures of herself scattered throughout the house. She was certainly not skinny like Daphne, but she had been learning to accept herself as she was. Being part of the leather community had shown her that normal women were sexy even if they didn’t live on diet pills and air. But it was hard to remember that when there was an anorexic singer in the house, flirting mercilessly with every male in sight, including her two men.

She put a packet of artificial sweetener in Daphne’s coffee and set the cup on the table. To get the conversation away from food and weight, she forced a smile onto her face. “So tell me, Daphne. When did you and Finn meet?”

“Centuries ago.” Daphne leaned back and tossed the empty tuna can into the garbage. Allie refrained from getting up and retrieving it to rinse and put with the recyclables. She could do that after Daphne went to the barn. Instead she poured herself a cup of coffee and defiantly added creamer to it.

Daphne stared morosely at her mug, apparently hoping to magically change it into something alcoholic. “He dated my college roommate for a while. We stayed friends even after that was over. He became my manager two—no, three years ago. Sometimes he’s more like a big brother, though. He never wants me to have any fun. The other night when we went to that little bar in town, I was going to follow your lead. I had these two hot guys all ready to come back here, but Finn stepped in and ruined the whole thing. Then he wouldn’t even take care of me when we got back. I had to use my vibrator. I don’t know what his problem is.”

Allie stopped herself from mentioning that everybody in the house had heard the argument over the two men as well as Daphne’s activities afterward. Daphne’s love of attention didn’t allow her to do anything quietly. Especially
that
. Not that Allie was going to complain about it. Sex, in all its forms, was what people came here for—to explore sensuality and sexual power exchange, and to watch other people doing the same thing. Loud public sex was nothing new in this house.

Allie laughed briefly. “It might look like an exciting one-night stand, but it’s really a lot of work. Besides, Finn obviously cares for you. Why haven’t you gotten together?”

Daphne looked a little wistful for a moment. Then she tossed her head in a gesture of defiance. “I’m having too much fun to be tied down now.” She giggled. “Although being tied down might be kind of fun, too, by the right person. Or people.”

“It certainly can be. But it works better with someone you know well and trust rather than two guys you pick up in a bar.”

Daphne stood up and headed for the back porch, carrying her coffee with her. “Maybe, but I don’t know if Finn’s got that much adventure in him.” She disappeared, the door slamming behind her.

Allie spent the morning doing laundry and tidying up. She’d had no idea how much of a mess one small singer with her retinue could make. At noon she fixed sandwiches for the crew and headed to the barn. Finn and Daphne were on the makeshift stage, working on the choreography of her new song “Daggers of Lust.” Between dance steps Finn was throwing out ideas for the set to Karl, a large, solid-looking man who sat off to the side and seemed to be sketching out Finn’s thoughts.

Allie went over and sat next to him, leaning into his shoulder to see his notebook. He stopped what he was doing and waited for her to finish looking before giving her a kiss.

Allie’s eyes went wide. No matter how much of his work she saw, Karl’s artistic talent always took her by surprise. “Wow. That’s going to look really cool!”

The drawing showed a backdrop of flames with knives and swords stuck into the floor or walls at various places on the stage. He pointed to the different items and whispered to her how Finn wanted them used during the song.

“Most of this will be photoshopped in later, including the flames. And Daphne will impale herself at the end on this sword.” He laughed at the expression on Allie’s face. “Don’t worry. There won’t be actual blood to clean up.”

“I think I might prefer it if there was,” Allie muttered, glancing at the woman on the stage. But then her attention was caught, and they watched for a few minutes in silence. Daphne showed no signs of her previous unsteadiness or reluctance. Focused and alert, her movements were graceful and athletic, as if she’d never touched a drop of alcohol in her life. She twirled and gyrated in heels that would have had Allie groping the wall praying not to break her neck.

Karl smiled. “You wouldn’t think it was the same person, would you? Or maybe you would.” Daphne had stopped and was hotly arguing with Finn about some part of the sequence.

They both watched in silent awe as Daphne kicked a leg above her head and did some kind of spin, landing in a split on the floor. Allie winced a little, imagining the mountain of painkillers that would be required afterward if she ever tried such a thing.

Karl grinned at her, no doubt reading her thoughts again. He had an unfortunate tendency to do that. “What’s for dinner?”

“I thought I’d try a new recipe. Sweet and sour ravioli.” Allie’s attention was immediately refocused. This was a much better topic than contemplating gymnastic stunts that would leave her hospitalized.

Karl’s grin faded. He glanced around as if expecting their guests to stage a rebellion then and there. “Are you
sure
?”

Allie laughed, rubbing his black, silky curls playfully. “It’ll be good, you’ll see. You never have any faith in my cooking, but it always turns out okay, doesn’t it?”

Karl nodded, a little reluctantly. “Usually. But we don’t want to scare away our guests. They’re paying a nice hefty sum to have all of their meals catered.”

“And it’s great practice for me,” Allie said happily, thinking of the brand new stack of cookbooks waiting in the kitchen, filled with hundreds of new and interesting ideas.

Karl put on his masterful face. “Yes, you can certainly experiment, but keep in mind that some people aren’t as—adventurous—as you are when it comes to food. We need to keep everybody happy.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll make a ‘normal’ entrée, too, and let people choose. I’d better go clean her room, now that I’ve got the chance.”

“Be careful.” Karl pulled her face toward him for another quick kiss.

“Seriously. I feel like I should wear a hazmat suit just to go in there. You wouldn’t believe the amount or the variety of liquor that girl can drink. I’m just grateful I’m not picking up syringes. I’m pretty sure I smelled the lingering odor of pot yesterday, though.”

Karl patted Allie’s ass as she turned to go. “Better check her smoke detector and make sure she didn’t take out the battery.”

“I actually had to put another battery
in her smoke detector.” Allie was dishing up dinner while Brad and Karl set the small kitchen table
for them. Finn and Daphne and their crew were eating at the large dining room table in the next room.

Brad came over to sniff at the casserole dish Allie was pulling out of the oven. Tall and slim, he had broad shoulders and sandy hair, a couple of shades lighter than Allie’s dark blonde. He put his arms around her waist and rested his head on top of hers as she gingerly pulled aluminum foil from the top of the pan.