Tymber Dalton - The Denim Dom

They sat and talked for over three hours. By the time they parted ways in the parking lot, Shayla was both enlightened and more confused than ever. Not because she didn’t understand what the couple was saying, but because of the huge amount of information she’d attempted to digest in such a short amount of time.

One thing was for certain, she knew she couldn’t just slough off and write something based on the talk she’d just had.

She needed to go on-site to the club Ross and Loren were members of, and she needed to attend classes and talk to other people in the lifestyle.

Loren settled into the passenger seat. “I like her,” she said.

Ross nodded. “She seems very nice.”

She glanced at her husband out of the corner of her eye. “I think we should set Tilly up to talk with her. And Leah.” A thought struck her. “Ooh!”

“No,” Ross said.

“What?”

“I know that sound. You want to hand her off to Leah to fix her up with Tony. No. Talk, yes. Matchmaking, no.”

Loren fought the urge to pout, knowing if she did that it would earn her at least five swats when they got home. “Just to talk, Sir.”

They stopped at a red light. He looked at her, eyebrow arched.

“Hey,” she said. “I just said I want to see if Leah and Seth want to talk to her.”

“That’s not exactly what you said. And it wasn’t the tone in which you said it. You guys need to leave poor Tony alone. He’s going to quit coming around if all of you don’t stop trying to fix him up.”

“Well, is he not someone who usually helps mentor newbies? He teaches. He’s a DM. Are you saying we can’t put her in contact with him at all?”

Ross let out an aggravated grunt she knew meant he was trying to figure out a way to admit she was right without admitting she was right.

She let the subject drop and sat back in her seat while hoping he didn’t spot the smug smile on her face.

Back home, Shayla grabbed a shower, a cup of hot herbal tea, and her notebook and pen. With her headphones plugged into the voice recorder, she played back their dinner conversation while jotting down information and making notes on points she wanted to hit for both further research and including in the article.

Despite what she’d hoped, she wouldn’t be able to get away with only writing two or three articles on the topic. No way could she do it justice without shortchanging either the subject or the people kind enough to speak to her about it.

Already she spotted several different potential topics. The dynamics and differences between Dominants and submissives, or submissives versus slaves versus bottoms, Tops and sadists and masochists and rope bunnies and…

She hit pause on the recorder, pulled off her glasses, and rubbed her eyes. Just those topics alone could easily take up a couple of articles each to truly do them justice.

Then there were the different types of play. No way that could be covered in one article without glossing over everything and basically regurgitating what showed up on Wikipedia.

She thought for a moment. Profile a person or couple and discuss salient topics? was added to her growing list of bullet points.

Still, nothing she’d discovered gave her an answer to her own burning question.

Maybe I’ll never really know why.

Hell, when she’d angrily confronted him the second time, even James couldn’t give her a satisfactory answer. He’d begged for forgiveness, begged her not to leave him.

She’d waited to confront him until after she’d spent the afternoon alternating between throwing up in the bathroom, following his online trail through the different websites, and on the phone with various credit card companies after pulling an online credit report on herself and discovering the full extent of his treachery.

Until after she’d been armed with the truth.

Until after there was no way he could gaslight or sweet-talk his way out of it.

Okay, yes, so mailing copies of everything to his parents had been a tad on the over-the-line side of crazy, but after the shit James put her through, he should count himself lucky she hadn’t mailed copies, along with a report of the criminal fraud he perpetrated, to his boss as well.

It would have cost him his job. Had she decided to press charges, he’d be looking at jail time.

She’d been able to reclaim most of the deposits for the wedding, which gave her nearly three thousand dollars she applied to paying for her move. James promised to one day reimburse her in full.

Not that she would hold her breath. Although before she departed for Florida, he had left her a check for five hundred at the apartment.

No note enclosed.

Asshat.

With a sigh, she hit play and resumed listening.

Thursday morning didn’t start well. Shayla startled awake on the couch at six o’clock, with a crick in her neck and the headphones still on after having fallen asleep listening to the interview.

“Shoot.” She sat up and tried to ease the pain in her neck. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep on the couch.

After briefly considering going to bed to sleep for another hour, she opted to put coffee on and head out for an early walk. Her uneasy dreams still swirled along the perimeters of her brain, images of naked women kneeling at the feet of hunky guys, bullwhips coiled in the men’s hands. Of darkly lit dungeons and screams of pain and pleasure.

What the hell was I thinking taking this assignment?

She pulled on shorts and sneakers and with the sun beginning to lighten the eastern horizon, she left her apartment for the humid, cool Sarasota morning.

Part of her wondered what else she’d discover on this journey.

What if I never find the answers I’m looking for?

Everything Loren and Ross talked about the night before came full circle to the fact that the people involved with each other in healthy dynamics had trust and communication as a foundation. Different levels of trust, sure, depending on what activities they were engaged in.

How do I ever learn to trust anyone again?

She’d trusted James. Loved him. Had been ready to spend the rest of her life with him.

It was nearly seven by the time she returned to her apartment, sweating and breathing heavily after jogging all the way home.

It had been the only way to get the nagging, unanswered questions out of her brain for a little while.

“You’re still looking a tad vexated,” Bill observed upon her walking into the break room to refill her coffee.

Shayla ducked around him. “I’m fine,” she mumbled.

They were alone in the break room. It surprised her when she heard the door close. Turning, she saw he stood against it. “If this assignment is too much for you,” he softly said, “I don’t have a problem reassigning it.”

She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms in front of her. “No. I want to do it.” She reached up and nudged her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

His arched eyebrow spoke his disbelief.

“Seriously,” she said as she turned to fill her mug. “I…” She took a deep breath to buy herself a second or two. “I’m just trying to digest everything is all. I’ll be fine.”

When she turned back to him, he slowly nodded. “Okay. But if you find it isn’t, I want to know about it. I’d rather you hand it off than cause yourself distress.”

“Understood.”

With a nod he opened the door and left. A moment later she returned to her desk and checked her e-mail, where she found a note from Loren.