Master of the Mountain

Chapter Seventeen

The weeks since Rebecca had returned to San Francisco had been busy. She should have been too busy to think about mountains or vacations…or men who didn't want her. And still at far-too-frequent intervals, a feeling would sweep through her as if she'd forgotten something or left something behind. She'd stop and check. Key in purse, purse on shoulder.

At first, she thought she missed her apartment, but she really didn't. Her job? But resigning had brought her nothing but relief. So she had to face the facts. She missed the mountain and the lodge so much that the memories were like a heavy ball in her stomach. When she cooked, she kept setting tidbits aside for Thor.

And when she thought of Logan-she tried really, really hard not to think of him-she wanted to go back to him so badly, she'd actually had her car keys in her hand a couple of times. At night, she'd roll over, seeking his warmth, needing his arms around her. How she could miss someone she'd known less than a week didn't make any sense. Yet everywhere she went, she listened for his deep voice.

She'd bought five flannel shirts her first week back in San Francisco.

Truly pathetic, Rebecca. With a sigh of exasperation, Rebecca walked out of her temporary bedroom and into Pepper's living room. She nodded at her tall, slender friend, glanced at the purple couch and shuddered, then dropped into a green cushiony chair. “I'm surprised your eyeballs don't bleed.”

“Just because you look ghastly next to purple doesn't mean everyone does.” Pepper grinned and fluffed her black hair. “Are you all unpacked?”

“All done.”

“Jobless, apartment-less, stuff in storage. You've been busy.” Pepper walked into the tiny apartment kitchen and reappeared with two beers. “So what's next on that itemized list of yours, my artistically anal friend?”

Rebecca swallowed some icy, dark beer. “It's mostly a list of what I don't want, so far. No more meaningless jobs. No more cities.” No more boring sex.

“You sure you weren't doing drugs on that vacation you took?”

Rebecca laughed. “No. Actually I painted.” And had lots and lots of sex. “That's what I plan to do now. I illustrated some children's books in college. I called up those contacts today and it looks like I can do that part-time.” Leaving the rest of the time for painting. And there was a heady satisfaction in bringing a book to life. Even better, seeing a child enjoy it. Is that a real fairy, Daddy?

“Okay. Check mark on the work.” Pepper tapped her gold-spangled fingernails on her beer with a clinking sound. “Where are you going to live?”

“Well, I can work anywhere as an illustrator.” Rebecca leaned her head back. “But I'm not ready to make a decision on that yet.” She could explore a new state. Go anywhere.

She pressed her lips together. Jake mentioned the men's periodic trips to San Francisco to pick up lodge supplies and have fun. When she'd handed in the key to her apartment, she realized she'd harbored an insane hope that Logan would show up on her doorstep. He'd smile and say she owed him a blowjob. He hadn't. And now she had no doorstep for him to find. Damn you, Logan. The ache in her throat made the next swallow of beer difficult. She forced it down.

But she did have that third item on her list to deal with. Before she headed out to some rural area where she knew no one, she needed to know if the spectacular sex with Logan was due to that Dom/sub thing or because of Logan himself. If she found another Dom, would he be just as good? She couldn't imagine it, but she couldn't ever have imagined she'd let someone tie her up, or strip her and put things…

“Whoa, girlfriend, you just turned red.” Pepper grinned. “I think there's something you're not telling me. What exactly happened on that mountain? Besides you and Matt breaking up?”

Rebecca felt her face growing even hotter. Then she laughed. “Gorgeous man. Hot, kinky sex.”

Pepper blinked. “You? Kinky sex?” She set her beer down on the coffee table and leaned forward. “Tell me, and spare no detail.”

“No details, you voyeur, but I do need your help. And it's related to kinky sex.” She eyed Pepper. Even with all the secrets they'd shared over the years, this might be embarrassing. “You pretty much know everybody in the city.”

“Well, duh. I run a bar. Of course I know everyone.”

“Um.” Rebecca turned the bottle in her hands. “BDSM. You know anyone who's into it? I want to go to one of the clubs and thought a…guide would be nice.”

“Holy mother. You are absolutely not telling me that you've gotten into bondage and-” Pepper's light blue eyes widened as she stared at Rebecca. “You did. You are.” She fell back onto the sofa, laughing so violently, she choked, coughed, choked again.

Rebecca scowled. “You know, all this shock is pretty insulting. I'm not exactly a virgin.”

“No but-” Grasping the back of the couch, Pepper pulled herself to a sitting position. “Okay, okay, let me think. Angela. Yeah, she'd get a kick out of showing you around. You met her. Lew's Christmas party, remember?”

“Tall blonde, spiked heels, and a skintight dress?”

“That's her. She's a Domme, so if you go with her, no one will hassle you. Unless you want them to.”

Rebecca bit her lip and then nodded. No point in making a journey of discovery and stopping halfway. “Call her.”

Not dawn yet. Logan opened his eyes a slit, keeping perfectly still. What had awakened him? No noise except the ever-present rumble of traffic in the fucking city.

A cool draft of air brushed across his cheek, although he'd closed the windows before retiring. And there was too much light.

Ah. The door to his hotel room stood ajar with the hallway light spilling around the edge. He heard the slight scrape of a shoe on carpet, coming from behind him.

Well, hell, he had a burglar in his room.

Adrenaline surged through his body as he forced his lungs to breathe long and slow. Still asleep, see? Come closer…

Another breath of a noise. Logan jackknifed off the bed, tossing the covers over the intruder's head. He came up behind him, grabbed, and-

“Fucking A.” Jake's voice. Under the quilt.

“What the hell are you doing?” Logan smacked the top of his brother's head before yanking the blankets back off.

“You asshole,” Jake growled. “Don't you ever sleep?”

“You've lost your touch, bro. I could hear you from the minute you started on the door,” Logan lied. “What are you doing here?”

Jake dropped into the chair beside the small table. “Thought I'd give you one last chance to do a freak-out.” He flicked a finger in a token salute. “You passed with flying colors, soldier.”

“Dammit. I thought I'd get one good night's sleep, at least.” Over the last few weeks, he'd been woken up every night. Jake had done the honors at first, and then every vet in the Yosemite area had shown up to help.

And here Jake had always said he wasn't into sadism. With a grunt of annoyance, Logan dropped down on the end of the bed. “You sticking around?”

“I rented a room down the hall, but I'm heading back in the morning. I wanted to make sure you were all right somewhere besides your own bed.”

“Good point. Thanks.”

“My pleasure. Not.” Jake rubbed his head and grimaced. “Why aren't you in bed with Red?”

Logan growled. “What kind of person disconnects their phone without leaving a forwarding number?”

“She did what?”

“Yeah. And her mail now goes to a PO box.”

“She took a powder? Why?”

“Don't know.” Logan prowled across the room, too revved to sit. “I'm damn well going to find out. When you get home, dig up the numbers for the rest of the swingers. One of them must know something, probably the asshole boyfriend.”

“No problem.” Jake glanced at his watch. “I should be there sometime early afternoon.”

“Good enough.” Logan dropped onto the end of the bed and looked at the clock. Two o' fucking clock in the morning. “And, Jake? The wake-up calls? Do this again, and I'll bust your face. And it won't be because of a fucking nightmare.”

“Whoa.” Rebecca walked into Dark Haven and stopped dead as a naked woman trotted past. Hard, nasty music came from the back of the nightclub. Couches and chairs scattered here and there formed tiny secluded areas. More tables and chairs sat off to one side near a long metal bar. People everywhere, the Goth look prevalent. A man walked by dressed only in tattoos and a loincloth. Lots of wrist cuffs, handcuffs, and ankle cuffs on both men and women. Some women wore getups like Angela's. Thigh-high latex boots with stiletto heels, skintight latex that pushed boobs up, metal arm vambraces. Not women you'd want to meet in a dark alley, no matter how short they were. One carried a whip clipped to her belt. Other women wore nothing but cuffs. Some went topless. There were bustiers and see-through clothing and miniskirts.

Angela laughed and slung an arm around Rebecca. “Welcome to the weird and wonderful.”

“No kidding.” Rebecca shook her head. “I feel like Alice in Fetishland.” Thank God she'd asked for a guide. Otherwise this place could totally overwhelm her. She'd definitely received a wonderful guide. After arriving at Pepper's with a bunch of clothing for Rebecca to try on, the Domme had dispensed fashion advice and then moral support after hearing Rebecca's story.

Rebecca smoothed down the pleated vinyl skirt, wishing it were two or three inches longer. But at least the full skirt hid her hips fairly well, and the black corset pulled her stomach in nicely.

Angela ran a hand down her arm. “You look divine, and I still think it's a shame you don't walk on my side of the street. Now you're going to wander around. I'm going to stand off to one side so people don't think we're together. Otherwise no Dom will approach you.”

Rebecca glanced at the bar. A couple of beers would go down really well right now.

Angela followed her gaze. “No alcohol for you. BDSM and impaired judgment do not go well together. Especially if you and your top don't know each other.”

Two women brushed past, one a step behind wearing a big, buckled leather collar like Thor's. Huh. Rebecca frowned. An amazing number of people-submissives-wore collars, usually the ones accompanied by Doms. Studded leather, wide leather that kept the person's head held high, thin steel. Most had O-rings; some had chains that went to nipple clamps or wrist cuffs. Rebecca's eyes narrowed.

That night in Logan's rooms, Jake had said something… “Gonna collar her, bro?”

“Those collars,” Rebecca said to Angela abruptly. “What do they mean?”

“It varies.” Angela grinned at a woman chained to the wall. “Sometimes they're just plain useful.” Then she nodded toward a gay couple. “But for people like Alan and Peter in a full-time, master-slave relationship, a collar is equivalent to a wedding ring. Or sometimes it can mean you're in a Dom/sub relationship, and you're not available. Meggie wears my collar when we come here.”

Relationships. What had Logan said? “I'm no full-time master.”

“It can just mean commitment. You know, going steady.”

“Enough, asshole,” Logan had growled. “Not going to happen.”

Rebecca fingered her neck, remembering how Logan would close his hand over her throat, never enough to cut off breathing, just enough to show his control. A collar would be a symbol of that. His control. And commitment. Why hadn't he-

“Honey, stop thinking about the past. You're here to have fun.” Angela patted Rebecca's arm. “Remember, if it's not working for you or if you feel off, just say no. I'll be nearby.”

Have fun. Learn something. Keep moving forward. “Thanks, Angela.”

“Girl, you more than paid me. That picture you drew of Meggie kneeling in submission is the loveliest thing I've ever seen.” Angela gave her a wicked grin. “Besides, I enjoy watching newbies in a club. Now go find yourself a Dom.”

Rebecca sucked in a bracing breath and headed through the crowd, trying not to openly gawk at…everything. Well-lit stages on the right and left wall had crowds around them; one had two men demonstrating how to tie a naked woman in a ka-zillion ropes and suspend her from the ceiling. The stage on the right had an elderly man wielding a whip. The cracking sound and the red welts appearing on the young man bound to a post made Rebecca's stomach twist uneasily.

Angela said to go downstairs to meet people and actually use the equipment. Rebecca pressed a hand to her stomach to still the nervous feeling and blinked at the tight feel of the latex. After glancing over her shoulder to make sure she still had her escort, she walked down the stairs and paused on the bottom step.

Strange equipment was set up everywhere: X-shaped frames, cross-shaped frames, sawhorselike tables. Manacles dangled from a low beam. Long, waist-high, leather-covered tables had people tied down on them. A Dom dripped wax on the bare breasts of his sub. Rebecca flinched. The music from upstairs could barely be heard over the sounds of whips and other things striking flesh and the groans, moans, and screams.

Well, she didn't have to do anything she didn't want to do, right? She glanced around, trying to look available. “Don't approach a Dom,” Angela had advised. “All the moves are theirs.”

As she walked through the room, men came up to her. Doms. She'd talk with them for a bit, but when they asked if she wanted to play, she turned them down. A woman hit on her, then another man. After wandering back to the manacle area, she stopped to watch. What would it be like to be the one whose arms were restrained like that? The chained woman faced the wall, and another woman in a dark red leather catsuit wielded a long stick across her back and rump, starting lightly, but now Rebecca could see the skin turning red. Her stomach quailed until she realized the sub's throaty moans were obviously not from pain.

A man in his forties in a black suit stopped beside Rebecca, glanced at the women, then looked down at Rebecca. “Is this your first time here?”

“Um. Yes. I don't know very much about this.” When she met his eyes, she got that sinking feeling almost like Logan gave her, only without the God-I-want-you jolt. “Um.”

He smiled and stepped slightly closer, invading her personal space. Deliberately. Dark brown eyes watched her, reminding her so much of Logan that her breath hitched.

When he frowned, she pushed Logan out of her mind. This Dom stood almost six feet with level, broad shoulders. Silver flecked his neatly trimmed black hair. His face appeared finely chiseled, almost aristocratic in comparison with Logan's rougher features. But he had the very same overwhelming sense of authority.

“Are you here with someone?” His voice was deep and smooth.

She shook her head.

“You look like you'd like to play.” He made the statement and waited for her response.

“Um. Yes. A bit.” I think. She bit her lip. He seemed nice and definitely experienced. Not strutting like the first Dom she'd met, and not pushing and touching right away like the second Dom. He had the confident air that Logan and Jake had, like you could toss him into any situation and he'd know what to do.

And he watched her the same way Logan had.

He held out his hand. “My name is Simon. I'm not new in the community if you'd like to ask around first. You need to be comfortable with whomever you choose. And start slow.”

“I'm Rebecca.” She shook his hand and then caught sight of Angela standing a few feet back, watching. The woman smiled and nodded approval.

Simon turned and caught the exchange. “Angela,” he said. As the Domme walked over, Simon tilted his head, glancing between them. “Yours?”

“No. She's a friend who I'm babysitting as she tiptoes into the scene.” She glanced at Rebecca. “He's experienced, highly regarded, and”-she grinned-“strict but fair.”

Simon's lips curved. “Quite a reference.”

Rebecca sucked in a breath. Decision time. He was handsome and definitely a Dom, but she didn't feel any sexual attraction at all. Still, she had to start somewhere. “I think I'd like to try.”

Simon held out a hand almost as big as Logan's. She put her hand in his, feeling safe and scared at the same time, but still nothing sexual. That seemed strange.

To her surprise, he didn't take her toward the equipment but over to a nearby couch. He sat beside her, keeping her hand in his. “Have you done anything related to BDSM before?”

She flushed.

“I'll take that as a yes.” He massaged her hand gently. “Tied up?”

She nodded and kept nodding as he ran through a list: breast clamps, spanking, and toys.

“Anal sex?”

The memory of the thing, the plug, that Logan had put into her made her shudder. “No. Not really.”

He chuckled. “I see. Flogging, whipping?”

She edged away from him.

“It's not something I'd do with a new sub anyway. Not the first time.” He squeezed her bare shoulder, his grip reassuring rather than sexual. “Submission? Orders? Positions?”

“Some.”

“Excellent.” He pointed to the floor. “Show me what you learned.”

She slid off the couch onto her knees, putting her hands behind her back, too embarrassed to open her legs, even though she'd worn panties.

He lifted an eyebrow. “He must have been new to the scene to have taught you so poorly.”

Her face flared with heat, but the idea of him thinking badly of Logan had her spreading her legs open as he'd taught. “I'm sorry, Sir,” she whispered.

“Ah. Modesty rather than inadequate instruction.” He studied her for a minute. Longer. She kept her eyes on her knees. “Look at me, Rebecca.”

She looked up at him. He leaned forward and ran a finger over the top of her bustier, touching her, reminding her of-

He must have seen the flinch she couldn't conceal. His hand dropped. “Tell me about the Dom who taught you. How long were you with him?”

“Four days.”

“Must have been a very intense four days.” He leaned back on the couch, his eyes focused on her face. “When you were learning all this, were you also having sex?”

For a second, she wanted Logan so badly, she could have cried. “Yes,” she whispered.

Simon's smile was faint. “You obviously care about him, Rebecca. Why are you here?”

She looked down. How could she tell a perfect stranger about her doubts? A hand under her chin tilted her head up. He caught her gaze with his. “Answer me.”

“I wasn't sure if what I felt was because of the…the submission stuff or because of him. I thought I should know that.”

He released her. “Amazing insight, pet. And what have you discovered?”

“I think it's him.” The answer felt right and yet opened up all sorts of other problems.

“I think you're right. But you are submissive without a doubt, Rebecca. If it doesn't work out with your man, keep that in mind when you look for another.” Simon leaned back, rested his arms on the back of the couch, and studied her. Sexual or not, she still felt vulnerable under his dark gaze. “BDSM doesn't have to be about sex, you know. Would you like to try some of the equipment without worrying about that?”

“Really?” She glanced at the manacles, realizing the women had left.

He gave a deep laugh and smoothly rose to his feet. “Come along, little one. I'll give you your next lesson.” Grasping her arms, he set her on her feet. “What is your safe word?”

A shiver ran through her as he led her forward, her wrist in his grasp. Not her hand. She wasn't an equal. “Red, Sir.”

“Good choice.”

When she started to face the wall, he turned her around. “I want to see your face, and you need to be able to see mine.” His lips quirked. “It's a different feeling too, seeing who's out there.”

He had commanded her attention so thoroughly, she hadn't realized people were watching. Her face heated, and she took a step away.

His face turned cold, and his voice chilled. “Rebecca.”

She froze.

“If something becomes too much or you cannot tolerate this, use your safe word. Otherwise, you're getting restrained. Right now.”

Oh God, oh God, oh God. But she held still and let him buckle the cuffs around her wrists. Her breathing sped up, but at least she could move her arms a bit. Even scratch her nose.

He studied her, then walked over to the wall and tightened the chains hanging from the beam. Now the leeway disappeared as the manacles pulled her arms tightly over her head.

The feeling of being restrained and vulnerable sent funny sinking sensations through her with each breath, like the floor she stood on wasn't quite solid. Her thudding heart seemed to have moved up into her throat.

“Look at me, Rebecca.” Simon's body blocked her view of the people watching. His dark eyes were intense as she lifted her gaze to his. “That's a good girl.” He cupped her cheek, his hand warm and comforting.

As she tugged on the chains, trying to get used to the quivery feeling inside, he asked, “Do you like being restrained?”

She wanted to glare at him. Just like Logan, asking impossible questions, trying to plumb emotional depths.

“Rebecca, when I ask a question, I expect an answer, not a glare.”

His reprimand shuddered down through her bones, making the quiver in her stomach worse. “It's scary. I don't know. I…”

“Giving control up can be a need that's not necessarily comfortable, especially at first.” He tilted his head. “And being restrained in public? Do you enjoy being watched?”

She tried to shrug but couldn't move even her shoulders, and that sent another of those weird feelings through her. “It doesn't seem to matter that much.”

He put his fingers into her cleavage, right over the hooks of her bustier. “If I stripped this off, would you feel the same way?”

Naked? Instinctively she yanked on the restraints and got nowhere.

He laughed. “Obviously not. Modest little sub, aren't you?” Rebecca looked past him, out at the crowd. To have them see her without clothing, her big hips on display… Her gaze crossed another's, and her breath strangled in her throat.

Unwavering blue eyes in a tanned, cold face. Legs apart. A leather vest showing off the muscular arms crossed over his chest. Logan. Her heart started to pound so hard, the entire crowd must have heard it. Simon surely did, for he turned around to follow her gaze.

Without a word, he walked away, walked right up to Logan, leaving her hanging from the chains. She yanked on the cuffs, and the pit of her stomach twisted. He was here. The surge of pleasure dimmed under the onslaught of questions. What would he think, seeing her like this? Seeing her with Simon?

And then she remembered that Dark Haven was a popular BDSM club. He hadn't come here to see her. As her hope died, she sagged in the chains. She tried to look away from him, and even knowing the truth, she still couldn't.