from Martial Hearts
copyright 2016
“Nature knows no indecencies; man invents them.”
-Mark
Twain
Chapter 1
“So it’s really over, then?”
Damon nodded his head as he took the drink from the
bartender. “Sarah touched down in British Columbia this morning.” He looked out
over the pulsing night life of The Club. “So, back to the market again, I
suppose.”
“Lots to choose from, my friend.” The younger man
nodded to a group of women who had just come in. “And your reputation lends you
to be quite the catch.”
Damon laughed and took his drink as he stood. “Thanks,
Marco.” His eyes skimmed the room before he settled on the group Marco had
referenced. Of the eight women, he recognized one – Jane. She was a regular
with her boyfriend, John, and sat on the Tribunal council with him. The other
seven, although wearing the telltale pink scarves of submissives, looked
nervous and unsure. Well, six of them did. One of them looked completely
disinterested and almost annoyed as Jane tied the scarf around her neck and
gave her what appeared to be a pep talk. He settled against one of the room’s
columns and watched the redhead with interest.
*
* * * *
“Why am I here again?” Mina pushed her bangs from her
slate eyes and looked around the brightly lit club where the scantily dressed
mingled with those in designer dresses and suits. She felt out of place in her
jeans and trim blouse as the eyes of men and women passed over her. This was a mistake. Looking back at Jane, she shook her
head. I should not be here tonight. Wait . . . change that . . . I shouldn’t
be here ever.
“Come on, Mina!” Jane tied a pink scarf around her best
friend’s neck so that she mirrored the other women in the small group. “It’s my
bachelorette party; let’s have fun! Besides,” she said under her breath, “it’s
only one night.” She grabbed Mina’s hand and pulled her into the group. “Okay,
ladies. The only rule is simple: no one leaves The Club. As long as you are
here, there are rules of engagement, but if you leave with anyone, then the
rules of The Club no longer exist. We’ll meet back in this spot at 9 o’clock
sharp to get a late dinner down the block.
Now,” she shooed them with a smile, “have fun!”
Some of the women were giddy as they dispersed into the
crowd while a few walked toward the bar, whispering amongst themselves. Mina
made no attempt to move. “Mina,” Jane sighed. “It’s one night. You don’t have
to actually do anything. You can just
watch.”
You’ve got to be
kidding me. I’m not watching shit. “I’m
still amazed that John is okay with you being here without him.” Mina fidgeted
with the scarf, trying to take it off, but Jane took her hands and retied the
loose knot.
“He’s well known here; so am I. No one will even try to
break the rules.” She tossed her short blonde hair back from her face. “It’s a
fun night of freedom before tying the knot—this time in the figurative sense!”
She laughed and turned serious again. “I know you don’t like it here. I know you’re uncomfortable and I am so, so grateful that you arranged the
bachelorette here anyway. Try to lighten up. Try to have a good time. Please,”
she squeezed Mina’s hand, “for me.”
What in the hell am
I doing? “For you, Jane.” Mina
forced a smile. “But you owe me. And not only for having your bachelorette on a
freaking Thursday night when I’m on call. Like godmother-to-your-firstborn owe
me.” Jane hugged her and walked away, leaving Mina watching her friend mix with
the other Doms and subs. She shook her head and blew out a breath. This is going to suck. Like really,
really suck.
Mina tried to avoid making eye contact as she walked
towards the bar. Locking eyes with
someone is initiating contact, Jane had told the women in the limo on the
way from drinks. It’s an unspoken invitation to connect.
You can always say no, but eye contact gives a Dom permission to
approach you. Yet, as she stared at the floor, Mina found herself feeling
almost vulnerable. And I’m anything but
that, she thought as she slipped up to a free spot. “Get you something?”
The bartender winked at her and she tried to smile.
Her throat was dry and she desperately wanted to down
an entire case of wine but thought better of her order. She was on call, after all. “A bottle of
water, please.” Besides, the last thing I
need to add into this evening is alcohol. As though he’d heard every
request a million times before and could work the bar on autopilot, he handed
her the water and took the two dollars she passed him as she moved to the side
and let a woman in a leather dress fill her place.
“Hey.”
I’m pretty sure I
did NOT make eye contact with you. Mina looked up at the sound of a man’s voice. Shit. What do I say to let this guy know I’m
not really into this and have no desire to play submissive to his whipping or
whatever it is he’s into? He looked as though he belonged to some sort of
motorcycle gang with his heavily tattooed arms and sleeveless T-shirt. Chaps
covered what Mina immediately thought of as his uni-thigh and that was it, save
his boots. You’ve got to be fucking
kidding me. “I’m not interested.” That’s
clear cut enough.
He smiled and she was slightly distressed by the
glimmer in his eyes. “So, you’re one of those subs, huh? Like to play hard to
get? I like that in a woman.”
You really don’t
get it. “Seriously? Not
interested.” She turned and walked away.
I’m getting out of here. This is
not my scene. I love Janie, but this is too much. As she walked in front of
him towards a hallway that she thought might lead to another exit, he grabbed
her arm. She narrowed her eyes. “Get. Your. Hand. Off. My. Arm.” Each word was
punctuated with a growing rage.
“Oh, babe. You and I? We’re going to make some sparks fly.”
He stank of cheap beer and when the lights began to strobe, they lit up the few
days old stubble on his chin.
Mina pulled her arm away and stumbled into the deserted
hallway, dropping her bottle of water. The man followed and chuckled.
“Normally, I’d suggest we find a more private space for this sort of thing, but
this works for me just fine.”
“Take another step towards me,” Mina said, her voice
teeming with anger, “and I promise that you’ll regret it. This is your last
chance to back away with your dignity—whatever is left of it after that outfit
choice—in place.”
The man’s face dropped and he began to walk forward, a
strange mix of anger and desire on his face. “I wouldn’t if I were you.” He
stopped and looked over his shoulder to the direction of the voice.
“Hey man, this bitch is taken.”
The man who had spoken stepped into the light and Mina
saw him clearly. Dressed in a tailored, pinstriped suit, he snapped his fingers
and instantly two bouncers appeared. “We don’t refer to the women who come here
as bitches and we don’t allow the
engagement of submissives without their consent which, clearly, you don’t
have.” He looked up at Mina and their eyes met. Her eyes widened before she
looked away. “Am I correct in that?”
Who are you? “I don’t know who this guy is, and no, he doesn’t have
my consent for anything.” Mina picked up her water bottle from the floor where
it had fallen from her fingers as she’d taken a defensive stance. Are my hands shaking? I could have taken
this guy down in my sleep.
“Hey man!” The biker began struggling against the two
men who held him by each arm. “What the hell is this? I’m just in for a good
time!”
“Rules are rules.” The mysterious man turned to the
hostess who had greeted Mina and her friends when they’d arrived and had seemingly
materialized from thin air in the moment. “Flag his I.D. as inappropriate,
Tiffany, and see that he’s banned for at least a month.”
“Of course, Damon.” She made a note on a tablet
computer and followed the men as they led the biker towards the door.
*
* * * *
Normally, Damon made it a habit to not interfere, but
something about the scenario had been off. He hadn’t recognized the Dominant,
and although he personally found it revolting, the man’s attire would have been
considered acceptable in most circles. However it was clear, even from a
distance, that the woman, labeled as a sub or not, wasn’t interested in his
advances, and when she walked away, the man had grabbed her arm. Dropping his
empty tumbler at the bar and waving off Marco’s invitation for a refill, he had
followed the duo into the hallway leading to the back stage entrance. The woman’s face was full of anger and then
the Dominant’s voice filtered to Damon’s ears and he made the decision to
interject. Standing face to face with
the possible submissive, he was glad that he had. “My apologies,” Damon stepped
forward but stopped when he saw the young woman tense.
“No apology
necessary.” She had looked up at him but again lowered her eyes to match her
voice and started to walk by him. “Although I’d appreciate it if you could show
me the fastest way to get the hell out of here.”
I’d really rather
you stay. Something about her was tugging at him. He was a Dominant, but even he wasn’t
normally the type to go for a damsel in distress. There was something else about this woman,
some cross between submissive and anything but.
Instead of touching her, Damon moved his body to block her. “Please
don’t take someone like that as a painting of what all the people here are
like. Most of us are perfectly normal.”
She raised her eyes to him and anger replaced the
uneasiness he’d seen in them before. “Right.
Because what you people do here is completely normal. Look,” she raised her hands, “no offense. But this isn’t my
scene. I’m here for a bachelorette party, and all things equal, if she wasn’t
my best friend, I would have declined from the start. This entire thing makes
me sick.”
“This isn’t my
scene.” Well, that’s a damn shame. Damon
rocked back on his heels. “Is that a fact?” While she was clearly angry—in his
opinion, she had every right to be after the slime bucket approached her and
refused to take no for an answer—he couldn’t help but find a certain amusement
to her fiery nature. I wonder if I can
change her mind.
*
* * * *
Stop being a bitch.
Your best friend is part of the lifestyle and this guy’s right: most people in
it are perfectly normal. “I’m sorry.” She
shook her head and touched her temples. “I’ve had a rough day and I’m on call
tonight, so my fuse is shorter than normal.” Mina tried to smile and looked up
but the gaze of his honey eyes was enough to undo her and she quickly looked
away. I’ve got to get laid more often if
a knight in shining armor is all it takes to get me riled up. “I recognize
that most people in the lifestyle are fine and that the jerks like that guy are
the exception. I just . . . I wasn’t really into coming here tonight in the
first place; now, I really don’t want
to be here.”
“Care to get a drink elsewhere?” He reached his arm
out, but Mina pulled away before he could touch her, her eyes opening widely.
“There are several bars within walking distance.”
If you leave with
anyone, the rules of The Club no longer exist. “I don’t think so.” She was contemplating moving
around him when Jane appeared behind Damon.
“Mina! I looked around and you were gone! I thought
you’d left.” The woman looked from Mina back to the man and then back to Mina
with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, Damon,” she said, addressing him in a hushed tone.
“I apologize. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“You didn’t,” Mina said quickly. Who are you, Damon, and why does the world seem to revolve around you?
“I was just . . .” Her voice was stopped by a ringing cell phone which she
pulled from her pocket. “Excuse me.” Turning her back, she answered. “Mina Cavanaugh.”
“Mina, it’s Betty over at St. Gabe’s ER. You’re our
on-call for tonight.”
“I’ll be right there. Ten minutes.” She hung up and
turned. “I’m sorry, Janie. I have to go.”
“Mina, no,” Jane pouted.
“I’m on call tonight and the hospital needs me.” She
hugged her friend and, when she pulled away, found herself closer to Damon than
she wanted to be. What do I say?
“Thanks for your help.” She moved quickly past him and prayed their bodies
wouldn’t graze.
“Anytime.” He made no attempt to touch her, but called
out over his shoulder. “I hope to see you around sometime.”
Not in this
lifetime, she thought as she passed
through the exit.
*
* * * *
Damon watched Mina move with speed out the door and
before Jane could walk away, touched her arm. The woman immediately assumed a
stationary position and dropped her eyes. “Who is she, Jane?”
“Mina Cavanaugh.”
“She’s a nurse?”
“Mina?” She looked up before quickly averting her eyes.
“No, she owns a studio downtown.” It was clear that she was pondering the
question. “Oh, the call? She’s a crisis counselor for local hospitals . . . for
rape victims.”
No wonder she was
so put off by that jackass. “Does she come
here often?”
“No. Only with me. And only when I bribe and beg her.”
As though she sensed his disappointment, she added quickly, “But I can give you
her contact info.”
