Page 133 of Crossed Wires: The Complete Series

The newcomer was dressed head to toe in leather, with slicked-back jet-black hair and an earring. Amy had to work hard at restraining her laughter. The guy appeared to have bought into every stereotype in terms of what a big, bad Dom should look like. He and the doorman began arguing, so Amy stepped into the shadows. When another man, the bouncer, arrived, she took the opportunity to move into the club. With any luck, the doorman would assume she left during the altercation and forget all about calling Andrew.

In the hallway she spotted a bathroom. She quickly stepped inside, grateful for a private place to calm her nerves. She walked to the sink and took in her flushed cheeks. She always blushed something fierce when she got anxious. Time to calm down. Best to lay low in here for a little while before venturing out. Just in case the doorman came looking for her.

Glancing at her purse, she grinned. Andrew had given her an order. Maybe she’d get submissive brownie points for following it. Stepping into a stall, she pulled the lube and plug out of her purse. It took her several minutes to prepare herself and the toy, to get it into place and manage to stand upright with the bloody big thing in her arse. Walking naturally was going to be a challenge.

She giggled to herself.

You’re not in Oz anymore, Amy.

Returning to the sink, she washed her hands then checked her appearance in the mirror. The color in her face had faded back to normal. She touched up her eyeliner and lipstick then took one more steadying breath as she tried to bolster her courage.

She peeked out into the hallway. There was no sign of the doorman or the bouncer, so she walked toward the sound of music. Her eyes widened when she entered what appeared to be the heart of the club. It resembled a nightclub, with tables and chairs scattered throughout the room, facing a stage that was set against one long wall. That was where the similarities ended.

The room was fairly dim, with most of the light provided by the stage lights that focused on a performance unlike anything Amy had ever seen. A naked man was chained to cross. He was facing away from the audience, so every person in the room had a clear view of his bare back and arse. A woman, dressed in a leather corset and skintight pants, wielded a whip. Every few seconds or so, she struck the bound man.

Amy would have been horrified if it weren’t so apparent that the man loved the rough treatment, and if she hadn’t recently been introduced to the concept of how pleasure and pain can indeed make strange but compelling bed partners.

She’d never anticipated how much she would like the feel of Andrew’s hand as he spanked her or the tight pinch of the nipple clamps. Her American lover had wetted her whistle and she wanted to see how much more she could take and still enjoy. Hazel had always claimed Amy was her own worst enemy—possessing more curiosity than sense.

Amy didn’t care. She figured life was meant to be lived and enjoyed. She refused to cower from new experiences. And this night ranked right up there as the mother of all experiences. Bloody hell.

Amy scanned the room, looking for an empty table. She didn’t expect Andrew to arrive for another hour or so at least. She’d simply find a quiet area near the back, enjoy the show and start a new to-do list. As she watched the lovers at the surrounding tables, she spotted at least three or four new things she wouldn’t mind trying with Andrew.

She’d just found an empty booth when a man stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

“Excuse me,” she said, intending to sidestep the large man.

“Are you here alone?”

Alarm bells went off in Amy’s head as she glanced up into the man’s imposing face. He wasn’t smiling and his eyes were cold. She’d seen jackaroos on the station who’d turned hard with the work. Men who slowly lost every bit of their humanity until they were as compassionate as a pissed-off cut snake. This man fit that mold.

“No,” she said. “My date will be here soon.”

“Date?”

She silently cursed herself for her stupidity. Once again, she’d let her impulsiveness overrule her intelligence, jumping into a situation she didn’t understand without backup. If Marc and Keith were here, they’d read her the riot act for being such a bloody idiot.

“I’m meeting someone here.”

The stranger lifted her arm, twisting it from side to side as if looking for something. “You’re not wearing a bracelet.”

“So?”

“So as far as this club is concerned, you’re an unattached submissive.”

She frowned and glanced down at her outfit. “What makes you think I’m a submissive?”

The man snorted, the sound neither pleasant nor friendly. She had fucked up. Big-time.

“There you are,” a strange voice said from behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder as a man she’d never seen before slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her back against his wide chest. Great. Now there were two big bad Doms to deal with.

“You forgot this,” the man holding her said, as he lifted her arm and slid on a blue wristband. “Paulie tried to catch you at the front door, but you were too quick.”

“Oh.” While she was still nervous, she decided it was better to play along with the new guy than take her chances with the scary dude. At least this man had a kind smile and friendly manner.

“She’s with you, Danner?”

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