Page 27 of Pressure

“Nothing. I’m fine. I’ll just get to the hotel and get changed. Can you change the batteries in my mouse?”

He leaned over and took it from her. “Sure.”

As she stood to leave, he flipped it over and switched it on, shaking his head as he watched her leave.

“I’m not sleeping with her,” he called.

♦♦♦♦

Marissa sucked in a deep breath as she adjusted the hem of her mid-thigh-length black dress one more time. She’d stopped at a shopping center and picked up a pair of slim black boots with a four-inch heel since none of the shoes in her suitcase were suitable for a BDSM party.

She shook her wrist again and looked at the silver bracelet Lance had handed her before she left. The small green diamonds sparkled, and her lips quirked up in a tiny smile. The diamonds had been made in a lab, something David Eastman, the club founder and owner, was passionate about.

Now, she sat in her car outside the club trying to talk herself into going inside. It had been years since she stepped foot inside a BDSM party, let alone an exclusive BDSM club. Her last kinky encounter had resulted from a mobile dating app and a single meeting in a dark bar that led to going home with a cute submissive guy. Dominating him had been fun, and they’d seen each other a few times but since he wasn’t a switch and had zero interest in being a Dom, it hadn’t lasted. At least that’s what she told herself.

A knock on the window startled her out of her thoughts and she jerked her head to see Lance standing there. Her throat went dry. He’d changed from his worn jeans and t-shirt and now wore a dark green button down and crisp dark jeans. It was a look she’d always loved on him. The growing sense of need between her legs was a stark reminder of that. Was he wearing her favorite leather boots too? With one more inhale, she opened her door and gave him a tight smile.

He offered her his hand and she accepted it, noticing her own hand was trembling.

With their fingers threaded together, he squeezed. “Just FYI, the story we’ve come up with is that you applied and were in the middle of the application process just prior to our decision to close our applications and stop taking new members. You’ve been accepted into the house sub program as my trainee.”

She gave a curt nod, words still stuck in her throat. Being in this position with him was affecting her so much more than she thought it would. She took a step toward the door, but he stopped her.

“One more thing. If you’re in front of other members, you need to call me, and the other house Doms Master followed by our first names. So, I’m Master Lance, Elijah is Master Eli, etcetera. Other than that, just be yourself and stick close to me. Ask all the questions you want about members, just don’t try to persuade anyone to give you personal information if they don’t seem open to talking. You’re not here to interrogate anyone, understood?”

She swallowed and gave another terse nod.

He lifted his gaze to the sky and sighed as he pulled his hand free of hers. His fingers tangled in her hair and she shuddered as he gave a sharp tug. “I’m gonna need you to find your voice and talk to me, Marissa.” His mouth was close to her ear as he spoke, and she couldn’t help the gasp that escaped.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “This is weirder for me than I thought it would be. I hear what you’re saying.”

He hummed and gave her hair one more short tug before letting it fall from his grasp. Picking up her hand again, he led her up the stairs and opened the door to Solitaire.

The vibe was vastly different from her previous visits over the last two days. The lobby was buzzing with energy as people milled about talking. The doors had only opened a few minutes prior to her arrival so people were still checking in.

Lance led her to the reception desk where Isabelle greeted her with a smile and asked for her ID. Her hands still shook as she tugged it out of her wallet.

“Thanks. Welcome to Solitaire. Jodie called to say she was running late, Master Lance. The third parlor room is still set up for you,” she said as she tapped keys on the computer.

“I get the feeling you work a lot, Isabelle,” Marissa observed.

The pretty girl giggled. “I do. I enjoy giving back to this place, but I’m also learning that I’m a work-aholic. Garrett is constantly scolding me for spreading myself too thin, but he’s learned to live with it for the most part.”

Beside her, Lance leaned across the desk and ruffled the girls long dark hair. “Thanks, Isabelle. You’re the best.”

When her ID was back in her purse and she’d signed the waivers, Lance took her hand again.

“You don’t have to hold my hand. I promise I’m not going to run away from you,” Marissa whispered as they stepped through a set of double doors.

They were in a bar now, and the conversation was louder than it had been in the lobby. Many guests wore fetish clothing that ranged from corsets to body-stockings to school-girl costumes. One man with a ball gag stood drooling next to a woman who appeared to be his mistress. She was scolding him while clutching a martini glass at the stem.

“Would you like a drink?” Lance asked, still gripping her hand.

“Yes, please.”

At the bar, Austin was slinging drinks, something that surprised her.

“Aren’t you a bajillionaire?” Marissa asked as she settled onto a barstool.

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