WanttoGoPrivate (3 page)

Chapter Two

Isabel whipped her head around, the noise startling her for
a mere second before a precise memory shocked her more. She looked at Chris’
hands, watched as he rubbed his palms in small circles over the area he had
just slapped and her heart accelerated. Memories of having her skirt slowly
raised, of James’ grunt of approval sounding from somewhere behind her, of
leather-clad thighs holding up her weight as she obediently lowered herself
over his knees. And that first strike. The sensation of heat flooding her flesh
before the pain was gently smoothed away in just the same circular motion,
before another resounding blow was delivered and rubbed. Repeatedly, until she
was shaking with the need to come.

Embarrassment crept up her neck and she quickly met his
gaze, only to suck in the breath she’d unwittingly been holding. His green gaze
had darkened and he tilted his head back in a commanding manner she’d never
noticed before. He straightened his lips and the small dimple she’d always
found just a tiny bit sexy disappeared. In a matter of seconds her friendly
neighborhood bartender had taken on the persona of the type of man she was
thinking of reconnecting with. A man who demanded an answer for every question
asked and an obedient response to every action proposed.

“Tell me what you need.” His tone was a deep whisper and it
didn’t leave time for her to consider anything more than controlling the urge
to promptly answer. Honestly and without restraint.

I want a man. One who knows exactly what I need without
me saying it. One who doesn’t expect me to be the authority where our personal
life is concerned. I’m so damn sick of being in control.

“I need… I mean, I’d like…” She couldn’t look away and his
eyes narrowed as he waited for an answer. Her voice sounded way too breathless
to her ears, but the fact that Sam and Stan had continued to carry on their
conversation and ignore her made Isabel think she was simply imagining the
undercurrent—the compelling tone Chris used, the way his gaze seemed to convey
that he knew exactly what she was thinking.

She didn’t see a movement but the fingers of her left hand
were suddenly enveloped in his warm grasp.

“I like your watch,” he said, but he hadn’t moved his gaze
one iota.

She knew, without a doubt, he was daring her to look away.
Taunting her. Which seemed so very ridiculous. Or maybe not, since she was
obviously losing her mind.

“The chain work seems pretty delicate. Like it’s super
fragile. But I’ll bet it’s not. Not when it’s twined with another one just like
it.”

He turned her hand and she forced her eyes downward. His
words, so seemingly innocent, had caused a fine sheen of moisture to break out
over her chest and under her arms. His thumb brushed over the band, the two
twisted chains moving ever so slightly against her pulse point.

“Has it proven to be really strong, Isabel?” She hadn’t
imagined the slight pressure he exerted and her body responded with the very
real thrumming between her thighs. “It seems like it could probably take a
great deal of punishment.”

This time she heard the intake of her breath. Knew he did as
well but when her eyes snapped upward, his face was back to normal, back to the
jovial countenance she was familiar with. Kind eyes, easy smile, strong chin.
Full and kissable lower lip.

And where the hell did that come from?

He moved his thumb slowly over the fleshy part of her hand
before releasing it and she shook her head in an attempt to focus. Denying she
and the girls hadn’t considered how hot he was would be a boldfaced lie. But he
really wasn’t her type. She liked tall and lean. Like Sam. Not a strong,
muscular, wide-shouldered build. Like Chris. But the most important thing she
told herself was that while Chris was friendable, he wasn’t fuckable. And
that’s how he would stay. He exuded an air of sexuality that tended to scream
“player”. She wasn’t looking for a hook-up. She was looking for something
different.

Yes you are, Isabel. Something very, very different.
And just for a sec, it seemed he was on the same page.

“Are you shaking your head because you don’t want more to
drink?” His voice held a decisively teasing tone.

“No. I’ve had enough,” she said, encompassing more than just
her need for libations. She took another deep breath and reached for her purse.
“When you get a chance, may I get my check, please?”

“Let me cash Larry out and I’ll be right back.” She watched
as he walked to the opposite end of the bar, the V shape of his upper body
seeming more pronounced from behind. He could probably fling her over one
shoulder with arms like that. Take her somewhere secluded. Back her up against
a wall and hold her wrists high above her head…

“Babe, what are you doing? It’s only the second
intermission.” Sam interrupted her thoughts before they spiraled any further
out of control.

“Sorry guys. I’m calling it a night. Sammy, just sign for my
card and save the receipt for me.”

“Forget that shit,” Stan said. “If you want to pay, you
stay. If you don’t stay now, then you can buy another time.”

“You sure you’re all right?” Sam asked, grabbing her chin
and making her look into his eyes. “You good to drive?”

“I’m fine, you two. Just really tired. But I had fun, as
always.” She hugged first one, then the other, as Chris slid the bill in front
of her.

“If the Pens lose, I’m blaming you,” Stan replied.

“As you should,” she smiled, reaching for the bill but Sam
grabbed it first. She knew better than to argue with him.

“And we didn’t even get to finish talking about your sausage
quest,” Stan added. “So recap. Look into real-life events. Wine, dinners, 5Ks,
charity auctions, those types of things. Somewhere you can meet men with a
little class.”

“Like you two,” she said and laughed.

“Like us, babe,” they replied in unison.

“You’re the best,” she said, giving each of them a quick
kiss before hopping off her barstool. She felt so much better. Maybe the chair
had been possessed by some horny patron from the past. That would make more
sense than the fact that she’d just realized she might be attracted to Chris.

At least he’s near your age. No ball bustin’ from the
peanut gallery.

“I’m hitting the head,” Stan said. “You walkin’ her out?”

“On it,” Sam said, placing a propriety hand at the small of
her back and turning her toward the door.

“Hey! Izzi!”

Chris’ voice carried through the bar and everyone looked in
his direction. He stood with his arms outstretched, a what-the-hell look
plastered on his face.

“No goodbye hug? No kiss?”

Heat flooded her body once again. Her first thought was that
he was challenging her, but that couldn’t be the case. Not when Sam’s deep
laughter was accompanied by more than a few chuckles from the other patrons.

“You must be out of it,” Sam said. “You never forget to hug
the waitstaff.”

“Don’t leave me hanging,” Chris warned.

She forced herself to walk to the bar, hoping the smile on
her face seemed genuine. She was more than a little off-kilter and she didn’t
like it.

“Sorry.” She stood on tiptoe and reached across the bar. He
met her halfway but didn’t touch her. He let her do the hugging, but for some
odd reason her hands drifted over his shoulders and down his well-defined
biceps before she stepped backward. His muscles were like granite and she felt
him flex, well aware of her touch.

“Hey,” he said softly. He tapped the top of her hand and she
automatically offered her palm, silently cursing at the telling gesture.

“These are for you.”

She glanced down at the small stack of business cards and
reached for the top one.

“Check them out later,” he said, curling her fingers to
cover them with his warm palm. “I heard you guys talking and grabbed a few from
my stash. Everybody wants the bartender to know who they are.”

Isabel looked at him and he offered her a quick wink. A
conspiratorial wink. A friendly wink. A wink that should have made her feel at
ease, but had just the opposite effect.

“Maybe you want to get in touch with some people you know
before you start online trolling.”

“And these are good guys?”

“They’re decent guys or they wouldn’t have made it to my
‘keep’ pile. Nobody goes in there unless they’ve proven they’re not total
assholes…and know how to tip.” He laughed and she returned his smile.

“Obviously,” she agreed, cocking her head. When he mirrored
her action and batted his lashes, she laughed out loud. This was how it was
supposed to be. Light. Breezy. Playful. “Are there cards from women in here
too?”

“No, they’re in a special pile all their own. I gotta admit,
I wasn’t aware you were leaning in that direction, Izzi.”

The Chris she had known for the past year was back, throwing
nicknames and crazy talk her way.

“Not just yet,” she said, taking a step back as she slid the
cards into the outside pocket of her purse. “But you know my motto.”

“What’s that?”

She blew him a kiss and turned on her heel, her mood suddenly
lighter.

“Never say never,” she said over her shoulder, expecting to
get the last word. She heard his voice, deep and sexy.

“Good to know. Very good to know.”

* * * * *

An hour later, after a long shower, a victory dance in front
of the TV when the two SportsCenter announcers declared that her Penguins had
won, then a celebratory bowl of white-chocolate-truffle ice cream, Isabel
snuggled under her fluffy down comforter, intent on a good night’s sleep. Try
as she might, the episode at the bar continued to repeat itself in her mind.
Over and over, she reviewed what had transpired, shooting for various
explanations as to how she might have misunderstood things. She came up with
some plausible reasons but knew, when all roads continued to lead to the fact Chris
might be a closet BDSM practitioner, she needed an obvious diversion.

Her first thought was to find another philanthropic venue to
which she could lend her time and effort. Her inbox was full of requests from
various organizations. But she was fairly particular as to her charities. And
thinking about how to generate large amounts of cash for them generally didn’t
help to put her to sleep. It had the complete opposite effect.

She turned onto her side, staring at the soft glow that
drifted through her unadorned windows. James had liked it that way. He had been
vehement that their condo, one level lower than the penthouse and having no
other buildings obstructing its view of the water, shouldn’t have window
treatments of any kind. In retrospect, it fit right into what she’d learned to
be his love of voyeurism, although she was certain no one except a low-flying
Coast Guard chopper would have been able to see a thing. Isabel had become
accustomed to the outside glow acting as a built-in nightlight…and the early
morning sunrise being more reliable than any alarm clock.

She smiled into the darkness, startled to find she’d been
thinking of her late husband without the usual ache in her chest. She really
had loved him. And now it was time to do as she promised and move on. But not
with their one-time Dom.

Isabel was a believer in signs. The fact Sam and Stan had
offered her some alternatives to the online dating proved she had been wise to
wait.

And what about Chris?

She closed her eyes, but that only sharpened the image of
him looking at her across the bar. If she could capture that expression, throw
him into a pair of tight, black leather pants and put a crop in his hand, she’d
have the perfect masturbatory material. She wouldn’t need the occasional
bondage website. She could bottle him, a dominant version of
I Dream of
Jeanie
, and have him there when she needed him.

Tell me what you need.

It was the sentence that really started all the memories.

“Damn, damn, damn.” She tossed the covers aside and got out
of bed, unable to stop from brushing her fingers over one hardened nipple. What
she needed was sex. Not some late-night booty call, but something with a
modicum of exclusivity. She ran her hands down her abdomen, stopping at the
waistband of her boy shorts. It wouldn’t take long to bring herself to orgasm.
But that never really relaxed her to the point she fell asleep, not when her
mind was racing like it was at the moment. No, it would only make her more
awake.

She glanced at the bedside clock and knew, at the oh so
not-late hour of eleven forty-five, she could call Sam and talk. She always
enjoyed his visits to the “big city” as he liked to tease. She’d been tempted
to ask him about his twin brother, if he happened to still be out there on the
open market, but had refrained. Partly because of the age difference, but more
because of the fact the twins were extremely close. The last thing in life she
wanted was to have one of her guy friends find out about her other side. She
doubted they’d understand. Heaven knew, her closest girlfriends didn’t.

Isabel had shared bits and pieces of her first submissive
experience, hoping for a little support from their corner. They had seemed fine
with the spanking but their looks of shock had escalated into faces of horror
as she elaborated. In the end, they’d taken her hands and told her how sorry
they were that the pervert she’d married had put her through such a thing. And
that she should divorce his fifty-something ass, have the marriage annulled,
and live like a queen the rest of her days. If Isabel remembered correctly,
they were still planning private-chartered trips to Tahiti for the three of
them when she got up and left the restaurant, taking her obvious perversions
with her.

She meandered through the condo as she made her way to her
desk in the library. She stopped in the kitchen and grabbed a bottled water.
Her purse lay open on the counter and she remembered the stack of cards she had
buried in the pocket. It really was very sweet of Chris, although it was the
last thing she had expected when he’d called her back to the bar area.