WanttoGoPrivate (2 page)

“No. It’s not a bad thing at all,” she finally replied
before blinking and breaking eye contact.

It took a moment for him to backtrack to the initial
question. His question. The one that had to do with the issue of control.

Her girlfriends talked a good game. They might be down for
the occasional untutored spanking, but that’s where it would end. He’d be
willing to wager that Isabel was different. The beauty of it all was he knew
the words to listen for. The subtle phrases, whether practiced or genuine, that
alluded to an interest in things just a little less mainstream.

“Hello, beautiful. You been here long?”

Chris shook his head as Sam Henderson jogged across the
floor and wrapped his arms around Isabel from behind. He’d seen the two embrace
dozens of times in just the same manner but today, with Sam’s arms resting just
above her breasts, Chris had a sudden urge to whack the geek-in-a-god’s-body
across the room.

“Hey, Sammy.” She tilted her head back to await his kiss and
Chris focused on the column of her neck, knowing full well she’d be very
discerning about what she would allow to encircle her pale skin. Diamonds and platinum,
without doubt. Leather and D-rings? Probably not.

Not yet. But maybe for the right Dom.

“Hey, Chris. How’s it goin’, man? What put that
I-need-to-bang-that grin on your face?”

“Just thinking of your newest sister-in-law, bro. She and
Luke were in here the other night. You guys sell your souls to the devil, or
what? Only explanation for women wanting your scrawny asses,” he teased.

The laugh he got in return was genuine. “Brave words,
brother. All the way around. I’m the only one in the family who realizes you
don’t have to have arms the size of smoked hams to be strong. Chicks dig the
lean look.” He looked at Chris’ biceps and grinned. “My condolences, dude. I’m
sure there are some biker mamas who’ll still find you doable.”

“Right,” Chris laughed and looked at Isabel. “You waitin’
for the last member of the triumvirate or should I put your order in now? It’s
probably going to get busy.”

“He’s five minutes behind me, so now’s good,” Sam
interjected. “We’ll take two fifteen-piece wings. One medium, one hot and two
brews. What’re you having, babe?”

She gave him a condescending look he failed to notice then
glanced down at the menu once more before meeting Chris’ gaze. “I’ll have the
Italian beef. Side salad instead of fries, no dressing. And tonight the check’s
mine.”

“No way—”

“Can it, Henderson,” she said sternly. Chris didn’t miss the
way Sam gave her his full attention, or the look of bewilderment on his face.
His entire family wasn’t used to being put in their places. It was a sight to
behold.

“We’re celebrating, so I’m buying.”

Chris went to the cash register to punch in their order but
covertly watched them in the mirror, easily eavesdropping.

“What’s going on? You know I hate looking like a kept man.”

“You always have to bring that up, don’t you?”

“You’re the hottest older broad I know. Even hotter than
Luke’s babe, and she’s pretty fucking smokin’ if you crave a little more to
hold on to.”

“Which you do.”

“Which I do,” he readily agreed. “So are we celebrating
women with perfect asses?”

“If she were, it’d be because you’re at her side,” Chris
interjected, unable to let a prime opportunity pass as he placed their napkins
and silverware in front of them.

Isabel laughed and Sam flipped him off.

“We’re celebrating the fact that by the time I leave here tonight,
I’ll be back out there. Navigating the dating waters. And you and Stanley are
going to help me figure out exactly what I want. Exactly what I need.”

“I thought that’s what your GFs were for,” Sam stated in a
worried tone.

“They’ll just tell me what they think I want to hear. I want
a real opinion. I want you guys to tell me exactly what you look for and what
you want. Because I’m not sure I want to go with the same-old, same-old. I
think I need something different.”

“Holy shit.” Sam echoed Chris’ words in perfect unison and
they stared at each other in disbelief.

“Thanks, guys,” Isabel said with a totally faux pout. “Love
the vote of confidence.”

“Screw the beer, dude. Give me a double Maker’s, very little
ice.”

“Right,” Chris replied, relieved to be heading toward the
far end of the bar. He hadn’t expected that sort of revelation from Isabel
tonight. She’d been online for months and somewhere in the back of his deluded
mind, he thought he’d have more time to figure shit out. To find a way to test the
proverbial waters that could very well be a relationship with the extremely
intelligent, undeniably sexy, possibly kinky Isabel Hall.

Keep it together, dude.
He was good at thinking on
his feet. Always had been. This wouldn’t be any different. He’d listen, he’d
review, he’d implement. It was that simple. He turned and saw the animated way
her arms were moving and the pinched expression on Sam’s face.

Not good. Not good at all.

“When you get done adoring her from afar, can I get another
Guinness?”

Chris turned toward the man sitting at the curve of the bar
and grimaced before grabbing a pint glass and reaching for the tap.

“Mind your own business, Larry.”

“Man, what you’re thinking
is
business. You’re
undoubtedly going to be like everyone else and hit me up for a private room
before it’s all over. If you can convince her to take that itsy-bitsy step to
the dark side. My benevolence is starting to wear thin, my friend. I ought to
be charging all my cronies double, for fuck’s sake. But she does have a great profile.
Can you imagine the perfect downward slope of jawbone if she had a wiffle gag
strapped around the back of her head?”

Chris slammed the drink onto the cardboard coaster with
enough force that pale foam sloshed over the side of the glass.

“I don’t need running commentary on your particular
perversions.”

“Perversion has its merits. Ask my crazy ex-wife and the
sales associate who just sold me my Bentley. You gotta check it out sometime
soon. Sweet little ride. Purrs like a kitten…or a completely satisfied woman.
So what’s the plan? And it better be something good because the other half of
her pals-with-penises contingent just walked in. He’ll have her on the path to
an older, rich husband and ironclad pre-nup before you can say ‘tie me up and
call me Nancy’.”

“Shit,” Chris muttered, watching as Stanley Hemple walked up
to the bar.

“Can denied orgasms and vibrating nipple clamps really
compare to Veuve Cliquot and weekends at the governor’s compound?” Larry
whispered. “You know he’s going to tell her to screw whatever site she’s
thinking about and go for the one where she can hook another fat-cat
millionaire. And old Stan being a financial advisor—”

“How did you know she’s talking dating?”

“All-but-empty bar and voices carry. Especially hers. She’s
got that no-nonsense thing going most of the time, but when she laughs, man,
that’s so real it makes you smile. Makes a part of you want to see her
responses to other shit, doesn’t it?”

Chris stared into the man’s knowing blue eyes and didn’t say
a word.

“In my opinion—”

“Which no one really needs,” Chris interrupted, wanting to
move back to the other end of the bar to hear what Stanley was about to
contribute to the conversation.

“You need to work that online-dating angle she’s going on
about, but in a totally different way. Now wouldn’t it be easy if she just took
the plunge and checked out the latest advice on MySecretMaster? You’ve met
plenty of blogging babes on there who were searching for a means to
experiment.”

“That’s the difference, Larry. She’s looking for a date, not
a Dom.”

“Possibly,” he said, raising the glass to his lips.

“Probably,” Chris replied.

“But you’re getting that vibe. I can see it in your eyes.
Enough that you’re considering enlightenment scenarios that will no doubt have
you whacking off in the storeroom before the evening’s through.”

“Give me some credit, man. I’d at least use the handicap
stall.” Chris chuckled, ready to put an end to their conversation and head back
toward Isabel.

“Have you really tried to see if she harbors a need for something
a little less vanilla?”

“What am I supposed to do, Larry? Use my ninja-like skills
and slap a pair of restraints on her while she’s holding the menu in front of
her face?”

“Well, that would be less than subtle, which is probably the
approach I’d tend to use,” he replied, pretending to give the idea a modicum of
thought. “But if my ass were behind the bar, I’d make a comment about her watch
or bracelet as I reached over and touched it. Right before I took both her
wrists in my hands and gave them a nice firm squeeze. If she yanks her hands
away, you’ve got your answer. If not…”

The implication hung there as Larry took a healthy sip of
his beer and wiggled his brows.

“I’ll figure out something else,” Chris replied, glancing
toward the three people at the other end of the bar. “Sam would be the obvious
person to help me, but he’s trying to keep his proclivities to himself.”

“I’m aware,” Larry said. “But he and your girl are pretty
tight. If you tell him the truth, that you’re a mild-mannered bartender at
night, ringleader of the Master blog by day, he might lend a hand. He knows
you’re not into the crazy shit. The two of you have been in the same viewing
rooms more than a handful of times. Your kink of choice is obviously similar.
That’s if you trust him enough. And if you really think she might be looking
for something different. With someone other than him.”

“I trust him. And one thing I know from all these months of
standing across a bar from Isabel is that she doesn’t hook up with her guy
friends. And she’s got a ton of them.”

“But does she consider you one?” Larry asked, standing.

“Maybe. She should. I’ve never once hit on her.”

“Of course you haven’t. Here.” Larry shifted his weight and
took his wallet from his pants, flipped it open and handed Chris a business
card. “Just in case you don’t have any lying around.”

“You carry my blog card with you? I’m touched, Larry.”

“Oh you’re touched all right. Aren’t we all? Give me ten
minutes and I’ll have a few others with guys’ names, guys who don’t have jack shit
going for them in the looks or ambition department. Guys who will make a surly
bartender, who’s basically lying to the woman he’s attracted to just to get her
near him, look like the catch of the century.”

“You’re a good friend,” Chris replied, sticking the card in
his back pocket. “I’ll work on a way to slip her the card.”

“Don’t worry, I’m an idea guy, I’ve already figured that
out. But if you end up with her hot little ass over your knee, you’ll owe me.”

“Frightening thought,” Chris mumbled.

“Just give her the assortment of cards I collect when she’s
getting ready to leave. Tell her you overheard her recent plight and wanted to
help by grabbing some contacts out of your Rolodex.”

“I don’t have a fuckin’ Rolodex, Larry. Those disappeared
somewhere in the eighties. Probably around the same time people considered your
matchmaking methods normal.”

“Whatever. Just hand over her change with the cards, tell
her you thought of some guys she might want to check out, say goodnight and
walk away. Easy as all get-out. She’ll find the one for your blog when she goes
through them and, if she’s a closet sub or Domme, the very least she’ll want to
do is sign up for your blog out of sheer curiosity. You have to approve your
minions, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Chris knew exactly where the plan was headed and he
begrudgingly admitted it had merit. But it sounded way too easy, which
experience had taught him was never the way to go. “It only works if she
actually logs in.”

“That’s right. So you’ve got to do some masterful weaving of
bondage innuendo into your conversation tonight. Pull that off with her two
sentries over there and you’ll climb a couple of rungs on my
that-dude’s-fucking-amazing ladder.”

“And isn’t that what I’m living for,” Chris said, picking up
the familiar glossy, black card.

“That and pussy,” Larry replied, standing up and looking
around the room. “Plump and glistening and ready to be teased.”

“It’s not just—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it before. Whatever you have
to tell yourself, man. Whatever you have to tell yourself. Me, I’m a realist.
I’ll be back in a few with your red herrings.”

Chris watched him walk toward a patron who was the main
organizer of a social activities group and strike up a conversation. Larry was
right about one thing—Sam and Stan would do their best to protect her and he
needed to factor that in. A tiny voice screamed at him to think about
everything else that needed to be considered to ensure he maintained his
friendships as well as not having his teeth knocked down his throat.

“Chris, I’m dyin’ down here. They’ve interrogated me so long
I’m losing my voice. May I get another soda?”

He heard Isabel’s happy voice and wicked thoughts raced
through his mind. When you got right down to it, a straight smile was pretty
overrated. And he’d rip his pearly whites out by hand if it meant her repeating
those exact words in another setting. One where she was naked and bound and
breathlessly following her I’m-dying-here comment with a pleading,
Let me
come
. Which would definitely result in additional punishment for neglecting
to say “please”.

The Dom in him reared. He really had no choice.

He stalked toward her, ignoring the men who sat at her
sides. He slapped his hands onto the bar, the intended sound echoing loudly as
he offered her the hottest look he could muster.

“I’m right here, Isabel. Now tell me what you need.”