Page 16 of Dare to Love Again

The big, intimidating master probably wouldn’t appreciate having the same nickname as her feisty, finicky, overweight cat. But Esme found it hilarious. Hugging him to her chest, she flopped back and laughed, imagining introducing the two. Twin sets of green eyes would size each other up, both likely unimpressed with the other, especially the fuzzy-faced feline.

Phin had eventually warmed to Andrew, after two years of narrow-eyed glares and warning tail twitches whenever he got close, even in passing. Then, when he didn’t come home, Phin seemed to grieve as much as she did.

When her amusement faded, her surly fella seemed to recognize why and nuzzled his head against her cheek, purring loudly.

“Yeah, I miss him, too, buddy. And Pax.” Ryan was the only male Phin liked, but it hadn’t come easy for him, either.

“Possessive much?” she muttered as she scratched his favorite spot behind his ear. He shut his eyes and leaned into the petting, much the way a sub did when her dom stroked her. The thought turned her mind back to the club, and the other Finn.

If she went tonight, there was no guarantee he’d be there, especially since she’d never seen him before last night. Besides, he’d shown no interest in her other than doing his duty. Maybe he had a submissive already. The good ones usually did.

Phin meowed at her distraction.

“This will be the first Saturday I haven’t gone since joining,” she told him.

She glanced at the clock. Four p.m. She was usually getting ready about this time. The lonely hours until work on Monday morning stretched out before her.

“At least I have you, Phinny,” she whispered, hugging him close and burying her face in his neck. He wiggled and squirmed until he got free, appreciating affection only on his terms. Then he stood on his hind legs with his front paws on her chest and meowed in her face, demanding his supper.

“Okay, okay,” she muttered as she put him down. “Your obedient slave hears and obeys.”

With all her running around today, his three-ounce pouch of wet food for the day was late in coming. The rest of the time, he got dry food, so he looked forward to his midday treat and became vocal with his displeasure if it was delayed. Out in the kitchen, she got his bowl and ripped open the smelly and very unappetizing packet of chicken with gravy while he wound around her ankles, meowing impatiently.

A creature of habit, you could set a clock by Phin’s schedule. He’d inhale his supper, use his kitty facilities, groom himself for twelve and a half minutes—curious one evening, and bored, she’d timed him—then he’d find a quiet corner to take his four-hour evening nap, leaving her without even him for company.

As an introvert, making friends didn’t come easy for her, so she had no one to call for dinner, or to pop over for an evening of wine and chick flicks. She’d never been the type to have a girl posse. It had hit home after her husband passed how alone she really was. Andrew had been the outgoing one. Their friends were his friends.

Now, in a new city, she didn’t even have acquaintances. She wouldn’t make any, either, by moping around her house on weekends or by skipping the lounge and bar at the club, which was the only social interaction she had, other than work. Not that making friends was the point of going.

As Phin ate his stinky supper, she realized she needed to do something other than sit on the sidelines, or she would become the neighborhood crazy cat lady. Then, before she knew it, life would have passed her by.

As Pax had told her so often, it wasn’t what Andrew would have wanted for her.

“What do you think, Phinny? Should I go?”

He didn’t look up from his wet-food feasting.

“Not that you’ll care since you’ll be asleep, but I’ll be home by eleven, just when your night begins.”

Her mind made up, she strode across her pocket-sized, eat-in kitchen and down the short hall to the stairs at the front of her rather small house, already planning what appropriately minuscule outfit she’d wear.

***

ESME’S PEN FROZE INmid-stroke when Alicia, the receptionist, who hadn’t said a word to her on any of her other visits, said something she could barely make out. She thought she heard, “Master Eric wants to see you,” but that made little sense.

Maybe it was a snide comment uttered under her breath. She’d never known the girl to be overly friendly, and from what Esme had observed in a short time, she was pretty much a bitch, which in her position was surprising. One day, while changing in the women’s locker room, a sub had come bursting in overwrought and in tears over something spiteful Alicia had said. Yeah, odds were on snide.

Looking up from the clipboard where she’d been signing in for the evening, the smirking grin on the other woman’s face prompted a knot of dread to form in the pit of her stomach.

“Pardon me?”

“I think you heard what I said,” she replied, not bothering to hide her smugness.

The knot twisted tighter.

She glanced at the door on the far side of the lobby. Painted in the same bland color as the walls, if not for the small sign, Authorized Personnel Only, she would have never noticed it was there. The only features in the room that told her she stood in the entryway of a BDSM club were the gothic double doors leading into the lounge and the registration clerk wearing a minuscule leather club dress with matching collar and cuffs on her wrists, the former reading Decadence Submissive, showing her employee status.

When Esme didn’t respond in any other way, Alicia added impatiently, “He said as soon as you arrive.”

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