As usual, he wore black slacks and shirt—similar to Master Z—but Galen’s dress shirt was broadcloth rather than silk. Kouros wasn’t a silk kind of guy.
He continued, “Perhaps she can wait tables now and have the second shift off.”
Vance’s big hand came down on her shoulder. “Galen and I would like to play with her. But not until she’s sober.”
“I’m not—” Sally knocked Vance’s arm away and turned back to Cullen. “I’m perfectly fine.”
“Fuck, I hate when she lies,” Vance growled. He gripped her hair, tilting her face up. His eyes were cold. “Are you seriously telling Cullen you’re sober?”
“I…” She couldn’t lie. “No. I’m not completely sober.”
“No one does a scene if under the influence.” Frowning, Cullen rested his thickly muscled forearm on the bar. He said to Galen, “Thanks for the heads-up. Sally, you’re assigned to cleaning tables. Check back with me in an hour.”
Stupid, interfering, know-it-all Feds. When she glared at Galen, a line in his right cheek deepened, showing his amusement. She realized he had more than a five-o’clock shadow, as if he hadn’t shaved earlier.
Andrea, Cullen’s submissive, who’d been listening, set a big mug of coffee in front of Sally and winked.
“As for later,” Master Cullen said, “Sally, I’ve heard what the members think of a trainee playing them for fools. There won’t be more punishment, pet, but I can’t do anything about your reputation with the Doms.”
Master Cullen usually had a smile, but not now. He was serious and…unhappy with her. Everyone was unhappy with her. Like in the beginning of the Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy realized she couldn’t do anything right.
Sally stared at the bar. Why didn’t I just stay home? “I understand.”
“Tonight, you’re assigned to Master Galen and Master Vance. They can work with you on honesty.” Master Cullen’s expression was troubled. “I know you didn’t fake an orgasm with any of the Masters, love, but we also never pushed you for more than light submission. We don’t usually. Emotional vulnerability is given to a long-term Dom, but we should’ve caught on to how much you were hiding from us.”
The sting of tears had her dropping her gaze again. She’d disappointed everyone.
Cullen set a tray on the bar next to her mug. “Finish the coffee; then get to work.”
Vance ran his knuckles over her cheek. “It’s not that bad, sweetheart. This will pass.” Sympathy warmed his eyes. “We’ll find you in a couple of hours. Here at the bar.”
Even as a thrill ran through her at his touch, she couldn’t suppress her glance at the door.
His hand curved under her chin, and he tilted her face up. “Sally, don’t try to leave early.”
Bossy Dom. “No, Sir. Wouldn’t think of it, Sir.”
When Galen raised an eyebrow, she flushed. Dammit, he’d probably gag her again.
* * * *
Seated near the middle of the club room, Galen smiled as the little black trainee handed him a bottle of water. “Thank you, Uzuri.”
“You’re welcome, Sir.” Watching her trot away, he shook his head. Her smile had been one of the sweetest he’d ever seen, but her dark eyes said watch out for pranks.
He looked forward to the upcoming scene with her fellow mischief maker, the imp named Sally. Propping his feet on the coffee table, he watched Vance work with a newer Dom, showing the knots best for rope bondage. For the past couple of hours, they’d wandered through the main room, helping out, answering questions, even demonstrating. Part of Z’s purpose in establishing the Shadowlands had been to provide education to the BDSM community, and the Masters were expected to put in their time. He and Vance would start as dungeon monitors next month.
He checked the clock. Sally should be getting off duty about now. Galen caught Vance’s attention and tilted his head toward the bar.
Smoothly, his partner finished his instruction and walked over. “Time to pick on a sassy brunette?”
“That’s the idea. If you run down the girl, I’ll get my toy bag from the locker room and meet you in the back.” Anticipation was a swift stream in Galen’s veins.
“Good enough.” Vance grinned.
A few minutes later, Galen walked across the main room to the far side. Murmurs of low conversations, sounds of sex, the slap of a hand on flesh were louder than the music coming from the front. Tall containers of plants divided the sitting areas into secluded niches for aftercare and quiet talks.
It was like wandering through a maze.
At the sound of Vance’s rough voice, Galen headed in that direction.
His partner had found an unoccupied area with a leather couch and two comfortable chairs. On her knees, Sally waited, her hands on her thighs, her back straight, gaze down. Vance sat on one of the chairs.
“Very nice,” Galen said.
After her initial start of surprise, she relaxed. Her lips softened in a submissive’s deep-rooted pleasure at receiving approval.
By God, she was pretty. He bent, tilted her chin up, and took her lips—not demanding, but wanting a taste of the sweetness that was Sally.
And she gave it to him.
Moving away, Galen set the bag down. They didn’t expect to use any toys, but the bag held water and chocolate and a blanket.
“Time to start,” Vance said. “Remove your clothes, Sally.”
“Um.” She glanced around as if expecting to see bondage equipment magically appear. “This isn’t a scene area.”
“No. It’s not,” Galen said agreeably. He took a seat on the couch.
She rose, taking a step back so she could face them both. Confrontational—or defensive?
“I prefer to play in the regular areas,” she said.
Galen exchanged a glance with Vance. Wasn’t it a pleasure to keep this one off balance, little Miss Sassy who’d ruled over less experienced Doms.
“This spot is better for what we have in mind,” Vance told her.
Her eyes narrowed. She was obviously considering how far she could push them. Damned if he’d figured her out. Despite her impertinent behavior, she was submissive. Given no choice, she’d relax into giving up control.
“Clothes off now, Sally. Not next week.” Galen leaned back and extended his legs.
After a long hesitation, she stripped off her almost see-through skirt and the scarf she’d wound around her pretty breasts. She wasn’t a big woman but was solidly built. Amply padded with a curvy ass, heavy thighs showing she had some muscle underneath. He smiled as she bent to pick up her clothes. Jiggly, lush ass—Vance’s favorite kind.
As for Galen, he simply liked women’s bodies. Skinny or lush, muscular or soft. Full breasts or thimble-sized.
Naked—beautifully naked—Sally set her hands on her hips and frowned at Galen.
“Is that posture one Master Z teaches the trainees?” Galen asked levelly.
Her face flushed, and her arms dropped. “No, Sir.”
“There’s a relief,” Vance said.
Galen had to suppress a laugh at the flashing anger in her expression. “Come and sit on my lap.”
Her mouth flattened. She really didn’t like them, did she? Then again, he doubted her feelings were personal. She wouldn’t like anyone who’d punished her as they had—and she wasn’t going to enjoy what they’d planned for tonight, either.
With obvious reluctance, she seated herself on his thighs. He let her sit there, rigid as a pissed-off cat. Probably as dangerous.
“Now what?” she asked.
“We’re going to talk a bit, Sally.” Vance pulled his chair closer. “Nothing painful.”
“Lean against me, please,” Galen said. He enjoyed the hell out of making her comply with his voice alone.
Without relaxing a mite, she shifted until her shoulder met his chest.
“You smell good, pet. Like springtime.” He put his arm around her back, holding her still so he could rub his jaw along her neck and inhale the clean fragrance. Almost like green apples. “What’s the name of your perfume?”
“Be Delicious,” she muttered.
He chuckled. “Sounds like an invitation to me.” When he nibbled the top of her shoulder, she jumped.
Vance lifted her legs onto the couch and slid his chair close enough to rest his hand on her thigh. They wouldn’t tie her down. But she was a small woman, and their large sizes and positions would give her the feeling of imprisonment.
Now, the true point of this not-scene would begin. “I heard you’re going to get your Master’s degree. In what?”
Her disbelieving stare made him smile. She acted like a mouse cornered by a cat that didn’t immediately pounce.
Galen waited.
“Um. Computers.”
“A master’s in computers?” Vance prodded. “That’s vague.”
Her cheeks darkened slightly. “Master’s of Digital Forensics.”
Galen blinked at the unexpected answer. The girl was not only smart, but she might be pointing her sights at criminology. “Why that?”
“It’s interesting.”
“What exactly interests you?” Vance asked.