Tymber Dalton - The Denim Dom

“It was more than that. It wasn’t a situation where he dumped her on principles or anything. She just wanted more of a relationship than he was ready to give. And she was really clingy. He’s not into clingy. He wants someone independent, who’s their own person.”

“You know,” Tilly said, “not to piss on this party or anything, but we don’t know that they’ll hit it off, or that she’s even looking for a relationship. Especially a BDSM one. She might be vanilla.”

Loren triumphantly smiled at them. “I’d be willing to bet you’re wrong. I know for a fact that she’s single because I asked her. And you didn’t see the way she looked last night while we were talking. She wasn’t scared off, and she didn’t appear judgmental, either.”

“She’s writing an article, Loren,” Tilly said. “It’s her job.”

“I’m just saying, the longer we talked, the more she had that little gleam in her eye.” She took a bite of pancakes. “And all it takes is a tiny spark to start a forest fire.”

Tony felt his personal phone vibrate in his pocket during his pre-lunch meeting. He glanced at it, half expecting to see a text from Leah. It was about this time every week she started firming up weekend plans for their tight little kinky social group.

Instead, he discovered it was a series of texts from Loren. We’re bringing a newbie to dinner and the club. She’s taking the Subbie class Saturday, and your whip class and the bondage class next week. Reporter. I’m sitting in with her Saturday. Can you make dinner and talk with her for her research?

He started to reply, then decided to wait and tucked the phone back into his pocket.

His first instinct was to say no. Then again, if the woman was going to the club with everyone after dinner, babysitting a reporter would be the perfect excuse to avoid play with Valerie if she showed up.

That sounds like a plan.

He waited until lunch to respond to Loren. Sure. No problem. Meet at the club and ride to dinner together?

He barely had time to get the phone back into his pocket when it vibrated again. Damn, Loren must be sitting on the thing.

He checked. Sure enough, it was from Loren. Sounds great! Class ends 6:30. CU there!

He stared at the message for a minute. It wouldn’t be the first reporter he’d talked to. Ever since Fifty Shades of Grey hit the bestseller list, it seemed reporters were crawling out of the woodwork to get soundbites about the lifestyle. Since he taught classes at the dungeon, he didn’t mind talking to reporters as long as they didn’t name him or take his picture.

Then it hit him that today was Thursday. Leah always got together on Thursdays with Tilly and Loren.

I wonder if I should be suspicious.

He discarded the notion. Leah wouldn’t try to set him up with someone on a club night when another friend she’d already tried to set him up with would be there.

Would she?

He called Ross. If anyone knew what was going on, he would.

Or Ross could get the truth out of Loren for Tony.

“Hey, what’s up?” Ross said by way of greeting.

“I just had a text from Loren. So a reporter’s coming to dinner with us on Saturday?”

“Yeah, we met with her last night. She’s doing an in-depth series on the lifestyle for Sunshine Attitude Magazine. Nice girl. She’s even going to take a few classes.”

Tony immediately felt his guard drop. Ross would have outright warned him if it was another fix-up attempt. Unlike Seth, Ross would rein in Loren’s matchmaking attempts. “Okay. I was just curious who she was.”

“We spent close to three hours talking last night. I get the impression she’s determined to do a fair series and not sensationalize the crap out of it. Oh, hey, while I’ve got you on the phone, I told her I’d hook her up with people who could answer her questions. Mind if I forward your name and e-mail to her? She’s going to be in your whip class next weekend.”

“Sure, no problem. What’s her name again?”

“Shayla…” He paused. “Hold on, let me look.” He was only gone a second. “Sorry, had to bring up my e-mail. Shayla Pierce. Why?”

“Nothing, just curious. Thanks. See you Saturday.” He ended the call and spun his chair around to his desk terminal. It took him less than thirty seconds to find the magazine’s website. He’d heard of them, even bought a copy or two when an issue caught his eye in the store, but he hadn’t explored their website before.

Clicking on the Staff link, he saw there were pictures of everyone, their names and e-mail addresses conveniently arranged in alphabetical order. Most of the shots were torso up, semi-candid shots as opposed to formal mugs, taken while the person sat at their desk. Halfway down the page, he stopped scrolling when he found her.

Straight brown hair to her shoulders and what appeared to be hazel eyes behind her glasses. Nothing overly remarkable, except for her smile and the way she held her arms close to her, hands clasped in her lap, as if guarding herself.

Her smile looked tentative, cautious, and didn’t even begin to touch her eyes. She was cute. Could even be called beautiful if it wasn’t for whatever it was she was holding back behind that sad smile.

He sat back and studied the picture, intrigued. He managed over forty people in his section of the company’s IT division. In his nearly twelve years with the company, in addition to his years of experience in the BDSM lifestyle, he’d grown adept at reading faces and nonverbal cues.

He also saw that she didn’t wear any rings on either hand.

Hmm.

Noting the time, he shut down the webpage and got back to work, soon forgetting about their conversation once absorbed in his daily activities.

Shayla ate alone in the conference room again. Instead of a book to read she had her notebook and pen, sat with her headphones plugged into her digital voice recorder, and listened to more of the previous evening’s conversation. That was why she jumped, startled, when someone touched her shoulder.

Bill Melling looked apologetic. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you, but you didn’t hear me when I called to you.”

She paused the recorder. “It’s okay. What’s up?”

He nodded toward her lunch. “You all set? Or would you like us to bring you anything?”

She pushed her glasses up. “I’m okay, thanks.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else. Instead, he nodded and left without another word.

She’d decided to start her series of articles with an introductory article about her own experience at the class and dungeon on Saturday. She would include very basic information about BDSM. The audience would learn right along with her.

That sounds like a plan.

She was still mulling said plan over when Kimberly popped into the conference room on her way back from lunch. “You still alive in here?”

Shayla took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “If brain-dead is considered alive, then sure.”

Kimberly nodded toward the notebook. “Already got a lot of info, huh?”

“More than I ever wanted to know.”

“I know what you mean,” Kimberly said. “I read that book, you know, the Fifty Shades one?” She shrugged. “I don’t get it. I mean, I get people want to be kinky. Heck, I’m not exactly tame in the bedroom myself. But I just don’t get the whole slave thing. It’s not me.”

“Me either.” She put her glasses back on. “I mean, what I’ve learned so far is not gelling with what I thought it was. That means there are a lot of people out there like me, who have no clue what BDSM really is about. So I’m glad I get a chance to write a series of articles that will be educational.”

Kimberly snorted. “If sex ed had been this much fun in high school, I might have actually enjoyed it and learned something.”

“You’ve got that right.”

Kimberly left with a wave. Shayla gathered her things to return to her desk. There might have been other things I wouldn’t have suffered through, either. Like giving James a second chance.

Kimberly grabbed Shayla a little before five Friday afternoon. “You and me are going out after work today. No excuses.”

Shayla tried to find one and couldn’t. Not to mention the orange-haired imp’s enthusiasm was contagious. “Okay, uncle. Where are we going?”

“Just over to Main Street. There’s a new tapas bar there I want to try. We can walk. Suzanne’s coming with.”

She had wanted to make friends. This was one way to do it. “Deal.”

She walked over with them. The late-afternoon sun sent golden shafts steeply slanting between the buildings and trees planted along the sidewalks, and the sea breeze had cooled the warm air to a pleasant, albeit slightly muggy, temperature.

“How do you like Florida so far?” Suzanne asked her.

“Different in a good way.” A freak snowstorm had just dumped three inches of snow on Cleveland that morning. And here she was, in short sleeves and sandals, walking several blocks from the office. “I certainly can’t complain about the weather.”

“Do you have any family down here?” Kimberly asked.

“Nope. Took a leap of faith based on the job offer. I’m glad I did. It’s beautiful here.”

“Just needed a change of scenery, huh?” Suzanne asked.

“You could say that.”

Kimberly looked at the addresses as they walked. “There it is.” She pointed and led the way.

The small restaurant smelled heavenly. With the space nearly filled to capacity, they were lucky to get a table by the front windows. “I’m sorry we haven’t taken you out sooner,” Suzanne said. “I finally had a night free. I’ve been wanting to get together with you since you started.”