Page 40 of My Skin Begs You Please

“From who?” He laughed, and it brought a smile to my face too. “A kinky grandfather?”

“Yeah, in a way. But not a blood relative. My first Dom, the guy who taught me everything I know about the work… Jerome.”

“You had a Dom?”

“I did.”

“So, you took Dom lessons from him?”

“Kind of. I was his sub at first, but it didn’t work out for me. But he was a great master to learn from.”

“Is there a school to be a Dom?”

“Not really. Jerome lived in Chicago for a while. Learned everything he knew about the scene there, and then moved back down here to help support his parents. He was a teacher by day at a local high school, and a dungeon master by night.” I cleared my throat. “Anyway, he died a couple years ago. Left the house and everythingin it to his sister. That included his personal dungeon. She freaked out when she saw the stuff he owned, and I offered to take it all off her hands. She gave it to me for free so long as I got it out of his house before their parents saw it.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Did he die of AIDS?”

I picked up a small bouncy ball I kept in the give-a-penny-take-a-penny and bounced it hard on the floor. It flew up, and I caught it easily. “Yeah.”

“How’d he get it?”

“Same way you and I got it.”

We were silent a moment, and I tried to remember what I’d intended to review with him when I called. Talking about Jerome’s death hadn’t been on the list.

“But what about your house?” Minty asked. “It’s pretty great. I mean, better than my mom’s place, by far. I know you don’t make that much at the porn store you work at. Can you really make so much money being a professional Dom?”

Something in his voice told me he had another question he wanted to ask too, but I couldn’t figure out what it might be without clearing this one up first. “Yes and no. Yes, I made enough money Domming to buy my house, but no, I’m not making that kind of money right now.”

“Why not?” His voice hitched up. I tuned into it with the intensity of a sadist looking for vulnerabilities to exploit.

“Because I’m not doing it professionally right now.”

“You’re doing it with me,” he reminded me.

“For free,” I reminded him in return.

“Oh. Is that…a problem?”

“What? Dominating you or not charging you for it?”

“Both,” he whispered.

“I could dominate you day and night and never get sick of it. As for the money, you can’t afford it, and I’m not asking you to pay anyway.” I flicked a glance toward Terry, who had his hand down his pants as he looked through an older copy ofHustler. “You’re helping me as much as I’m helping you.”

“How?”

“Let’s just say I needed a distraction from my diagnosis too.”

The bell rang on the door, and I glanced up to see a crowd of college-age girls come in, all giggling and blushing. I watched as they started their rounds of the store. With any luck, a few would be brave enough to get a dildo or vibrator, but often those kinds of girls just came in to look and titter. “But back to the topic at hand… How are you feeling?”

“Distracted.” Minty chuckled, and it was a deeper sound than his usual voice and laugh. “I’m supposed to be writing a paper on the dinoflagellates of Vieques’s Bioluminescent Bay, but all I can think about is that spanking you gave me, and whether or not you’re ever going to actually hurt me, or if you’ll just keep on claiming that you’re going to and then…” He chuckled again. “Not.”

I scoffed. I couldn’t believe this brat. I’d sent him flying with just a spanking, I’d made him shout from a few clothespins, and now he was pushing me, saying I’d failed to hurt him yet? “You want more pain?”

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