Page 5 of Healing the Heart

“His friends call him Doc, and likely, his patients. He’s a renowned pediatric orthopedic surgeon here in LA. He often takes time off from his practice to volunteer abroad. Doctors Without Borders, or something like that. Eric was lucky he was available tonight.”

“Is all the travel why he’s a permanent bachelor?”

Master Axyl’s steely gray eyes cut to her.

“Your pardon, sir. It’s his story, of course, but it sounds like a lonely life to me.”

“Hmm. To each his own,” he grunted. “We have more exploring to do. I see a cross opening up. Are you game, little newbie?”

Fiona took his proffered hand and followed him to a roped-off station with a padded cross. She’d never seen one with quite so many eyebolts or a headrest. Once he strapped her to it, she understood why as he demonstrated the functionality of a 360-degree, fully invertible, St. Andrew’s cross. It was her first ride on a cross, ever.

During the rest of the event, which lasted until midnight, Fiona caught glimpses of Doc, and the longing returned. Her too-observant guide noticed. With a tug on her arm, he steered her in the opposite direction.

“Heed my warning, little subbie. More experienced subs have tried and gotten their hearts broken. Let’s walk the circuit. I’ll point out some better prospects for potential doms as we go.”

He was right. One scene or one night and a goodbye weren’t what she wanted, no matter how hot and skilled the master was. Her experience made her one rung above a novice. Tonight was only her third scene, and none had come close to ending like the one she’d witnessed on the center stage.

She’d been out with her share of men—some dom wannabes, but mostly vanilla guys—and no one wanted anything serious. Being a serial dater wasn’t her thing. She wanted permanence and, with her body clock ticking more loudly as she neared the mid-thirties mark, she was ready to start a family. All she needed was to find the right man.

By the end of the night, she made her decision to apply for membership. The astronomical fees were daunting and would take some creative budgeting, but she liked the positive energy of the club and all the safety precautions. And she’d found two doms who were her type on day one. The club seemed like an answer to her prayers.

Although Master Axyl was just visiting and Doc she should avoid, with a membership of close to 1000, the odds of findingsomeone who wanted to dominate her but also wanted tobewith her rose exponentially.

Finding fulfillment and true happiness at long last seemed within reach. All it took was embracing the forbidden and surrendering to a decadent world she never dreamed existed.

Simple enough, right?

Chapter 2

Fun to Play With, But Not for Keeps

ONE YEAR LATER...

“This is it,” Fiona told her reflection in the mirror. “It’s now or never.”

This was no exaggeration. In just three days, her membership would expire, and she’d already made up her mind not to renew. She couldn’t justify the expense, which was significant, especially when she was no closer to finding the dom of her dreams than when she’d joined. Adopting a cat would provide her with a deeper level of commitment than any of the doms she had been with, a number so small she could count them on one hand.

She often asked herself what she’d expected as a chronically shy introvert flying solo at the most exclusive kink club in LA. With exhibitionism the most common kink among the members, her mission was destined to fail from the start.

Fiona took a step back, and, turning from side to side, scrutinized her appearance with a critical eye. The rule of thumb in the BDSM world: submissives wear less than dominants. She thought she’d achieved that with the jade minidress she’d chosen for tonight. Its keyhole front revealed a good three inches of cleavage and, except for straps, it essentially had no back. Butno matter how daring she considered it, compared to what the other women wore—or didn’t wear—it was practically demure.

At thirty-four, she was older than the average twenty-something submissive. She stood out among them, and not in a good way. Sure, she was pretty enough, she supposed, with golden skin that radiated a healthy glow, natural caramel highlights in her brown hair, and warm mocha eyes framed by long black lashes. She had the looks of her Columbian mother, who was a Sofia Vergara doppelgänger, right down to her hourglass figure.

Unfortunately, what Fiona inherited from her father, a renowned two-star Michelin chef who owned a restaurant in San Francisco, was his love of food. Like him, she carried around an extra thirty pounds.

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