Tymber Dalton - The Denim Dom

Hope we didn’t scare you off last night. If you’d like, I can come to the Submission 101 class with you. We’ll be there on Saturday anyway for the dungeon play following the class. Ross said he’d be happy to sponsor you so you can attend the night play session, and we can introduce you around. That way, we can answer any questions you might have about what you see there.

Shayla drummed her fingers on her desk for a few minutes as she reread the note before replying.

Sure, that sounds great. I appreciate it. I’ll see you there.

Within minutes, she had a reply.

We’re meeting friends for dinner between the end of class and when the dungeon session starts. You’re welcomed to join us. They’re all in the lifestyle.

More finger drumming.

Why am I hesitating? This is my fricking job . She needed to nut up and do it.

She replied. Thanks. Sounds good. Any special dress code for Saturday night?

Loren must have been sitting at her computer. Her reply arrived less than five minutes later.

Nope. Jeans, comfortable shoes, and a blouse are fine. Just no flip-flips or anything like that. Or feel free to dress up, if you want. Everyone will be street-legal for the restaurant anyway. Some people change clothes once they get to the club before they play if they aren’t coming straight from home.

Shayla waited a little while to reply, to clear out some of her other e-mail first.

Thanks. I’ll see you on Saturday.

She paged through notes she’d made the night before.

Now I just have to keep myself from chickening out before Saturday afternoon.

Loren squealed and held out her phone so Leah and Tilly could both read the e-mail on the screen. Leah held it steady, an ear-to-ear grin filling her face. The three of them were at their weekly Thursday morning girls-only breakfast meet-up, before they went to get their nails done.

“You realize Seth and Ross will beat us in a bad way if they realize we’re ambushing Tony, don’t you?” Leah commented as she released Loren’s hands.

Tilly let out a snort. “You two have to worry about that. I don’t.” She speared a piece of sausage and forked it into her mouth. “That’s one of the benefits of being a switch. I keep telling you girls you need to come over to the Dominant dark side. We have fantastic cookies.”

Loren let out a snort. “I’ve seen you ‘yes, Sir’ Landry more than once.” She poked her friend in the shoulder. “And that wasn’t Cris strapped down to a bench last weekend at the club, either. How’s your ass, by the way?”

Leah laughed as Tilly turned pink. “Don’t pick on her,” Leah said. “We’re all a work in progress.”

Loren laid her phone down. She picked up her fork and bit back the joking reply she’d almost casually let fly. About Tilly being a lucky bitch and having two guys.

Leah, while healthy and happy with her husband and Master, Seth, was barely two years out from having lost her first husband, Master, and Seth’s best friend, Kaden, to cancer. A long, excruciating process that left Leah grief-stricken. For a while, she, too, had two men of her own. The triad she’d longed for for years.

Until they lost Kaden.

“How do we handle things if Valerie is there Saturday?” Loren asked instead.

Leah considered it. “Well, she usually doesn’t come until after nine, so we’d already be back from dinner by then. Unless or until she shows up, I won’t know if we need to run interference or not.”

“You can always set her up to play with Landry,” Tilly offered.

Leah considered it. “That’s a good idea. You don’t mind?”

Tilly arched an eyebrow at her friend and pulled her long, auburn hair back away from her face. “Seriously? Landry’s always in the mood to give out a beating. Better her ass than mine,” she added.

Loren was glad Tilly had let her hair grow long again. For several years after Cris had left her, she’d cut it super short as well as had it dyed red, a look that harshened her features and added years to her appearance. Upon Landry popping up in her life almost three years earlier with Cris in tow, Tilly had once again learned how to enjoy life.

Especially since Landry was himself now cancer-free.

“We should dub this ‘Operation Trap Tony,’” Loren joked.

“Or ‘Operation Dom Date,’” Tilly added.

Leah pointed her fork at her friends. “The man needs a submissive. I’ve seen him at the club, the way he watches scenes. The look he gets. He’s lonely.”

“He’s a DM,” Tilly quipped. “He’s supposed to pay attention to scenes. It’s his job.”

“No,” Leah insisted with a firm shake of her head. “You don’t understand. He gets this sad look in his eyes. He didn’t used to have that look.”

“What happened with that last girl he dated?” Tilly asked. “I thought you said they hit it off well. Wasn’t she his submissive?”

Leah let out a snort. “They did. She hit it off too well. She gave him an ultimatum that she wanted a commitment from him, or she was gone.”

Tilly winced. “Yowch. Never demand a Dom do anything.”

“It was more than that. It wasn’t a situation where he dumped her on principles or anything. She just wanted more of a relationship than he was ready to give. And she was really clingy. He’s not into clingy. He wants someone independent, who’s their own person.”

“You know,” Tilly said, “not to piss on this party or anything, but we don’t know that they’ll hit it off, or that she’s even looking for a relationship. Especially a BDSM one. She might be vanilla.”

Loren triumphantly smiled at them. “I’d be willing to bet you’re wrong. I know for a fact that she’s single because I asked her. And you didn’t see the way she looked last night while we were talking. She wasn’t scared off, and she didn’t appear judgmental, either.”

“She’s writing an article, Loren,” Tilly said. “It’s her job.”

“I’m just saying, the longer we talked, the more she had that little gleam in her eye.” She took a bite of pancakes. “And all it takes is a tiny spark to start a forest fire.”

Tony felt his personal phone vibrate in his pocket during his pre-lunch meeting. He glanced at it, half expecting to see a text from Leah. It was about this time every week she started firming up weekend plans for their tight little kinky social group.

Instead, he discovered it was a series of texts from Loren. We’re bringing a newbie to dinner and the club. She’s taking the Subbie class Saturday, and your whip class and the bondage class next week. Reporter. I’m sitting in with her Saturday. Can you make dinner and talk with her for her research?

He started to reply, then decided to wait and tucked the phone back into his pocket.

His first instinct was to say no. Then again, if the woman was going to the club with everyone after dinner, babysitting a reporter would be the perfect excuse to avoid play with Valerie if she showed up.

That sounds like a plan.

He waited until lunch to respond to Loren. Sure. No problem. Meet at the club and ride to dinner together?

He barely had time to get the phone back into his pocket when it vibrated again. Damn, Loren must be sitting on the thing.

He checked. Sure enough, it was from Loren. Sounds great! Class ends 6:30. CU there!

He stared at the message for a minute. It wouldn’t be the first reporter he’d talked to. Ever since Fifty Shades of Grey hit the bestseller list, it seemed reporters were crawling out of the woodwork to get soundbites about the lifestyle. Since he taught classes at the dungeon, he didn’t mind talking to reporters as long as they didn’t name him or take his picture.