If Only
Page 11
“I think living with Sam agrees with you, although I’m not sure how. Sadists are just plain scary.” Sally shook her head.
“I like his brand of scary.” Linda gave the others a slow smile. “Besides, I always wanted a cowboy, even if my rancher considers himself a farmer.”
“Ugh. I grew up on a farm.” Sally leaned forward and refilled her drink. “Cornfields and beans and pigs.”
Kim toasted her. “And now you’re a city girl getting a master’s.”
“In what?” Linda asked.
The alcohol buzz had hit already—maybe because she hadn’t had any lunch. Stupid, but she’d relish the feeling for a few minutes before digging into one of the deli sandwiches piled on a platter. “Computers. Digital forensics, actually. Does that sound sexy or what?”
“What—like crime stuff?” Linda tilted her head.
“Kinda. Like if someone’s dead, I do an autopsy on his hard drive instead of his body. So much more sanitary, right?” But she could still do good. Be a hero, even if a nerdy one.
Jessica snickered. “God, yes. I’d rather deal with a pile of papers any day than a stinky corpse. But computers… Is that like legal hacking?”
“It really is.” Sally tipped her head back, enjoying the balmy early evening. Enjoying the alcohol. She felt relaxed for the first time in ages. “I used to be a hacker, you know? Snoopy Sally, the nerd.”
“Seriously?” Linda narrowed her eyes. “I never thought of you that way.”
Woo-hoo, I’m good. “My sorority sisters taught me how not to look—or act—like a dork. Bless them.”
“Huh. I figured you as smart, but a teenage hacker is a whole different level.” Kim swirled her drink and eyed Sally. “I’m trying to visualize that. Did you make viruses or something?”
“Well…” Sally set her empty glass on the table. Maybe she should eat. Nah. She poured herself a refill. Screaming Orgasm. Awesome name. “Not exactly. Um, stuff like—a college jock figured he could assault a girl because she was black.” Sally scowled, remembering how angry she’d been. “She wouldn’t press charges. So I copied and sent his racist, sexist—and porn-ridden—e-mails to the college faculty and dean. He was gone a week later.” The asshole. “I’ve improved the program a lot.”
And it’s working just fine on some true douche bags. A bit of caution made it through the blurring in Sally’s head, and she kept the revelation from spilling out. “Don’t tell anybody, okay?”
The other women nodded, and she gave them a happy smile.
Linda patted her hand. “You, my dear, are already blitzed. Eat something or Z won’t let you into the Shadowlands tonight.”
“But it feels good,” Sally grumbled. How long had it been since she’d felt so…open. Free. With a sigh, she obediently accepted the sandwich Jessica handed her. “Hey, as anyone talked to Kari recently?”
Jessica shook her head. “Some teacher went out on maternity leave, and Kari is filling in more. Between extra work and the baby, she hasn’t had any free time.”
“Oh. No wonder she isn’t at the club these days.” Perhaps a visit should wait until the Hillsborough elementary schools started their summer break in June.
“Probably,” Jessica said. “But I miss seeing her and how content Dan looks when he plays with her.”
Sally smiled. “Yeah, he really does.” Working in the police station, she saw an awful lot of cynical cops. Master Dan had been headed in that direction until he’d met Kari. But no one could stay bitter around the sweet-hearted schoolteacher.
“Speaking of the club, what happened with the Feds last week?” Kim asked. “Jessica said you were punished.”
“Christ on a crutch, it was awful.” Sally giggled, pleased the pain of the memory seemed so distant. “I’d faked coming and got caught.”
* * * *
Galen walked down the outside steps from the third story to the veranda and leaned on the railing to pacify his aching leg. Damn knee. The gunshot wound from years past had healed, but the underlying damage had slowly surfaced. Getting older didn’t help. Soon, he needed to man up and get surgery. Maybe he’d have the time once the case was wrapped up, if that ever happened.
“Nice of Z to help out,” Vance said as they reached the bottom.
“Ayuh.” They’d asked the psychologist to counsel a recovered slave—a girl so young Galen couldn’t think of her kidnapping without getting enraged. She’d been so traumatized she’d stopped speaking, and Z specialized in nonverbal communication. God knew the Dom understood the psychology of slaves, voluntary or involuntary.
Galen and Vance had swung by to drop off the girl’s information, as well as a thank-you bottle of Aberfeldy 21 single malt, which Galen had picked up during a Scotland trip.
Near the gate, Vance halted. “Listen.”
Women were laughing somewhere in the gardens. One giggling voice was like water over a stony creek bed. “Is that Sally?”
“I’ve never heard her sound like that.” Vance headed toward the gaiety.
Galen noiselessly followed him down a path into the gardens, remembering his hunting days. Stalking the prey.
Words became distinct, and Vance stopped.
Galen leaned against a convenient tree and listened. Not very gentlemanlike behavior, Kouros. But how could a Dom resist? After a minute, he laughed silently and mimicked tipping up a bottle. The ladies were drinking and had been at it for a while.
Vance nodded. He crossed his arms over his chest and settled in.
“I was so mad,” Sally told the women. “I mean, yeah, I shouldn’t have, but sweet Jesus on a pogo stick, they announced to everyone I’d been faking getting off.”
Yes, he could see how that would bother her. But why had she needed to pretend? And it hadn’t been her first time. He and Vance had spoken with Z about that very matter.
“You and the Feds?” Galen recognized Kim’s voice. “What do you think of them?”
Interesting question. He leaned forward as the pause continued.
“Well, one minute I think they’re nice, and the next I think they’re total dipwads. Manipulative bastards.”
Galen bit back a laugh.
Jessica snorted. “Sounds like the definition of a Dom?”
“Well, maybe. And their two-to-one stuff is…”
Galen sighed and jerked his head at his partner. Not fair to be listening to private conversation, no matter how interesting. But the draw of Sally’s open laughter had been irresistible.
Vance gave him an annoyed, then rueful expression, and they retreated quietly.
“You ethical bastard. She’d just gotten to the good stuff,” Vance said, holding open the gate to the parking lot.
“True.” Galen smiled. “But I like to think we’re honorable—even if we are dipwads.”
“Pretty sure she only meant you.” Vance frowned. “She sounded different.”
“Yeah, she did.” Galen limped across the concrete, as always, annoyed to see his partner shorten his stride and slow. “Notice she talked about how she felt?”
“Because she was intoxicated.”
“Exactly. She certainly doesn’t share if not under the influence.” Galen frowned. “Why would a lovely woman close herself down?” And why did the vulnerable expression he’d seen on her face last week pull at him?
“Good question.” Vance slid into the driver’s seat. “Let’s find out.”
* * * *
Oh boy, she should’ve stopped drinking a lot earlier. After a quick shower and change in Jessica and Z’s guest room, she took their private stairway into the Shadowlands. Carefully. Screaming orgasm—the drink that kept on giving, cuz she sure wasn’t sober. Ben would probably turn her away if she went in the front door.
A long gauze skirt and a makeshift scarf tied around her breasts served as her outfit. Thank God Z preferred the trainees barefoot; she’d have busted an ankle in heels.
She’d missed the trainee lineup and inspection. Master Cullen would be displeased. But since she didn’t barmaid until the second shift, her lateness wouldn’t upset service.
Members packed the room. To her fuzzy brain, the music and conversations sounded awfully loud, and people moved too fast.
At the bar, she waited for Cullen to see her. On her left, a Domme in a motorcycle jacket, black latex pants, and boots was chatting with a couple of newer submissive women. On her right, a group of older Doms discussed service protocols.
“’Bout time you arrived.” Master Cullen in his brown leathers gave her a long look. “You’ve still got an hour to play before your shift starts. Do you have a Dom lined up or someone in mind?”
Sally winced. How many of the Doms would think—or know—that she’d faked getting off? “I—”
“She’s been drinking and can’t even walk in a straight line, Cullen.” The word drinking somehow had changed to drinkin’; can’t had been transformed into cahn’t.
At the sound of Galen’s down-east accent, Sally stiffened and turned.
“I like his brand of scary.” Linda gave the others a slow smile. “Besides, I always wanted a cowboy, even if my rancher considers himself a farmer.”
“Ugh. I grew up on a farm.” Sally leaned forward and refilled her drink. “Cornfields and beans and pigs.”
Kim toasted her. “And now you’re a city girl getting a master’s.”
“In what?” Linda asked.
The alcohol buzz had hit already—maybe because she hadn’t had any lunch. Stupid, but she’d relish the feeling for a few minutes before digging into one of the deli sandwiches piled on a platter. “Computers. Digital forensics, actually. Does that sound sexy or what?”
“What—like crime stuff?” Linda tilted her head.
“Kinda. Like if someone’s dead, I do an autopsy on his hard drive instead of his body. So much more sanitary, right?” But she could still do good. Be a hero, even if a nerdy one.
Jessica snickered. “God, yes. I’d rather deal with a pile of papers any day than a stinky corpse. But computers… Is that like legal hacking?”
“It really is.” Sally tipped her head back, enjoying the balmy early evening. Enjoying the alcohol. She felt relaxed for the first time in ages. “I used to be a hacker, you know? Snoopy Sally, the nerd.”
“Seriously?” Linda narrowed her eyes. “I never thought of you that way.”
Woo-hoo, I’m good. “My sorority sisters taught me how not to look—or act—like a dork. Bless them.”
“Huh. I figured you as smart, but a teenage hacker is a whole different level.” Kim swirled her drink and eyed Sally. “I’m trying to visualize that. Did you make viruses or something?”
“Well…” Sally set her empty glass on the table. Maybe she should eat. Nah. She poured herself a refill. Screaming Orgasm. Awesome name. “Not exactly. Um, stuff like—a college jock figured he could assault a girl because she was black.” Sally scowled, remembering how angry she’d been. “She wouldn’t press charges. So I copied and sent his racist, sexist—and porn-ridden—e-mails to the college faculty and dean. He was gone a week later.” The asshole. “I’ve improved the program a lot.”
And it’s working just fine on some true douche bags. A bit of caution made it through the blurring in Sally’s head, and she kept the revelation from spilling out. “Don’t tell anybody, okay?”
The other women nodded, and she gave them a happy smile.
Linda patted her hand. “You, my dear, are already blitzed. Eat something or Z won’t let you into the Shadowlands tonight.”
“But it feels good,” Sally grumbled. How long had it been since she’d felt so…open. Free. With a sigh, she obediently accepted the sandwich Jessica handed her. “Hey, as anyone talked to Kari recently?”
Jessica shook her head. “Some teacher went out on maternity leave, and Kari is filling in more. Between extra work and the baby, she hasn’t had any free time.”
“Oh. No wonder she isn’t at the club these days.” Perhaps a visit should wait until the Hillsborough elementary schools started their summer break in June.
“Probably,” Jessica said. “But I miss seeing her and how content Dan looks when he plays with her.”
Sally smiled. “Yeah, he really does.” Working in the police station, she saw an awful lot of cynical cops. Master Dan had been headed in that direction until he’d met Kari. But no one could stay bitter around the sweet-hearted schoolteacher.
“Speaking of the club, what happened with the Feds last week?” Kim asked. “Jessica said you were punished.”
“Christ on a crutch, it was awful.” Sally giggled, pleased the pain of the memory seemed so distant. “I’d faked coming and got caught.”
* * * *
Galen walked down the outside steps from the third story to the veranda and leaned on the railing to pacify his aching leg. Damn knee. The gunshot wound from years past had healed, but the underlying damage had slowly surfaced. Getting older didn’t help. Soon, he needed to man up and get surgery. Maybe he’d have the time once the case was wrapped up, if that ever happened.
“Nice of Z to help out,” Vance said as they reached the bottom.
“Ayuh.” They’d asked the psychologist to counsel a recovered slave—a girl so young Galen couldn’t think of her kidnapping without getting enraged. She’d been so traumatized she’d stopped speaking, and Z specialized in nonverbal communication. God knew the Dom understood the psychology of slaves, voluntary or involuntary.
Galen and Vance had swung by to drop off the girl’s information, as well as a thank-you bottle of Aberfeldy 21 single malt, which Galen had picked up during a Scotland trip.
Near the gate, Vance halted. “Listen.”
Women were laughing somewhere in the gardens. One giggling voice was like water over a stony creek bed. “Is that Sally?”
“I’ve never heard her sound like that.” Vance headed toward the gaiety.
Galen noiselessly followed him down a path into the gardens, remembering his hunting days. Stalking the prey.
Words became distinct, and Vance stopped.
Galen leaned against a convenient tree and listened. Not very gentlemanlike behavior, Kouros. But how could a Dom resist? After a minute, he laughed silently and mimicked tipping up a bottle. The ladies were drinking and had been at it for a while.
Vance nodded. He crossed his arms over his chest and settled in.
“I was so mad,” Sally told the women. “I mean, yeah, I shouldn’t have, but sweet Jesus on a pogo stick, they announced to everyone I’d been faking getting off.”
Yes, he could see how that would bother her. But why had she needed to pretend? And it hadn’t been her first time. He and Vance had spoken with Z about that very matter.
“You and the Feds?” Galen recognized Kim’s voice. “What do you think of them?”
Interesting question. He leaned forward as the pause continued.
“Well, one minute I think they’re nice, and the next I think they’re total dipwads. Manipulative bastards.”
Galen bit back a laugh.
Jessica snorted. “Sounds like the definition of a Dom?”
“Well, maybe. And their two-to-one stuff is…”
Galen sighed and jerked his head at his partner. Not fair to be listening to private conversation, no matter how interesting. But the draw of Sally’s open laughter had been irresistible.
Vance gave him an annoyed, then rueful expression, and they retreated quietly.
“You ethical bastard. She’d just gotten to the good stuff,” Vance said, holding open the gate to the parking lot.
“True.” Galen smiled. “But I like to think we’re honorable—even if we are dipwads.”
“Pretty sure she only meant you.” Vance frowned. “She sounded different.”
“Yeah, she did.” Galen limped across the concrete, as always, annoyed to see his partner shorten his stride and slow. “Notice she talked about how she felt?”
“Because she was intoxicated.”
“Exactly. She certainly doesn’t share if not under the influence.” Galen frowned. “Why would a lovely woman close herself down?” And why did the vulnerable expression he’d seen on her face last week pull at him?
“Good question.” Vance slid into the driver’s seat. “Let’s find out.”
* * * *
Oh boy, she should’ve stopped drinking a lot earlier. After a quick shower and change in Jessica and Z’s guest room, she took their private stairway into the Shadowlands. Carefully. Screaming orgasm—the drink that kept on giving, cuz she sure wasn’t sober. Ben would probably turn her away if she went in the front door.
A long gauze skirt and a makeshift scarf tied around her breasts served as her outfit. Thank God Z preferred the trainees barefoot; she’d have busted an ankle in heels.
She’d missed the trainee lineup and inspection. Master Cullen would be displeased. But since she didn’t barmaid until the second shift, her lateness wouldn’t upset service.
Members packed the room. To her fuzzy brain, the music and conversations sounded awfully loud, and people moved too fast.
At the bar, she waited for Cullen to see her. On her left, a Domme in a motorcycle jacket, black latex pants, and boots was chatting with a couple of newer submissive women. On her right, a group of older Doms discussed service protocols.
“’Bout time you arrived.” Master Cullen in his brown leathers gave her a long look. “You’ve still got an hour to play before your shift starts. Do you have a Dom lined up or someone in mind?”
Sally winced. How many of the Doms would think—or know—that she’d faked getting off? “I—”
“She’s been drinking and can’t even walk in a straight line, Cullen.” The word drinking somehow had changed to drinkin’; can’t had been transformed into cahn’t.
At the sound of Galen’s down-east accent, Sally stiffened and turned.
