The Denim Dom

Chapter Eleven

They spent the day in Tarpon Springs with Clarisse, shopping and talking and even catching a late lunch before heading back to Loren’s house around four. She spent time working on her notes about the day before she grabbed a shower.

The things they’d talked about wouldn’t leave her mind. How happy each of the women seemed in their relationships. Sure, Tilly had a slightly different dynamic than the others, but she was happy. By her own admission, happier than she’d ever been in her life.

And it felt damn good to have a group of women she could open up to and not worry about them judging her for what she did by forgiving James and giving him a second chance, and then not having him prosecuted the second time.

She liked Kimberly and Suzanne, but despite knowing Kimberly was a little wilder than Suzanne, she still didn’t feel…well, totally comfortable opening up to them the way she was with these women. Shayla didn’t want anything she said to accidentally make its way around the office.

After the good day she had with Loren, Leah, Tilly, and Clarisse, she wanted more than ever to do more than just talk about BDSM.

She wanted to experience it.

After waffling about it for nearly an hour, she called Tony a little before eight o’clock and was pleasantly surprised when he answered instead of his voice mail.

“Hello, Shayla.”

“I hope it’s not too late to call.”

“No. What’s up?”

She took a deep breath and took the plunge. “I know this is short notice, but are you available tomorrow night to get together for dinner or something and talk again?”

There was a moment of hesitation she was positive meant no, but then he surprised her. “Sure. How about someplace other than Village Inn?”

It was one of the few places she actually knew in the area. “Oh. Okay. Sure. Wherever you’d like.”

He named the restaurant and she wrote it down. When she hung up with him a few minutes later, she realized her hands were trembling.

Crap.

She spent another restless night with sexy dreams of Tony and his green eyes running through her brain. The next morning, Bill Melling stopped by her cubicle. “How’d everything go yesterday?”

“Really good. Thank you for letting me go.”

He shrugged. “You need to be able to research.”

“I should have the first article ready by Monday.”

“Good.”

“It’s going to be a long one.”

His smile broadened. “Even better.”

She stopped by home to grab a quick shower and change before heading to the restaurant. There, she stood and fidgeted in the foyer, unable to just sit and wait. When she saw Tony’s car pull in five minutes before their meeting time, she couldn’t deny the little thump in her chest as she watched him smoothly climb out of his car and stride toward the restaurant.

He’s just a guy. He’s just a normal, everyday guy.

Who’s now haunting my dreams.

She felt heat rise in her cheeks and pressed her palms against them to try to rid herself of the embarrassing flush before he walked in.

His eyes met hers through the glass door as he reached out to push it open. Unable to help it, her gaze dropped to her feet for a moment before she looked up again. He wore a friendly smile and extended his hand.

She’d reached out to hug him, and they did the awkward hug-handshake dance before settling on a hug. “Nice to see you again,” he said. “Glad we didn’t scare you away last weekend.”

“Everyone’s been really nice. That’s why I want to make sure I write the best story possible. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong impression about what you all do. I want to make sure I’m accurate.”

He held out his arm, indicating for her to go first, and they approached the hostess stand. He held up two fingers and they were led to a booth.

Once settled, with their drink orders placed, he leaned back in his seat and smiled at her. “So what did you want to talk about tonight?”

Tony admitted his curiosity had run overtime after her phone call the night before. Over the phone Shayla sounded more timid than ever, a woman wanting to ask something and apparently afraid to spit it out. He’d found her discomfort amusing and endearing.

Not to mention the sadist in him got a little twist out of it in the bargain.

He knew she’d spent the day before with Leah, Loren, Tilly, and Clarisse. He wouldn’t be nosy and ask what they talked about, but he couldn’t help wondering if her call to him was a result of it.

She laced her hands together in front of her on the table, her eyes trained on them. When she spoke, her voice sounded so soft he had to sit forward to hear her.

“You said you’ve trained submissives before,” she said.

He slowly nodded and folded his arms on the table in front of him. “Yes?”

“And you teach, too? I mean, I know you teach the whip class, but you teach other stuff.”

“Yes?”

“How much do you charge?”

He thought maybe he’d misheard her. “I don’t understand.”

She still wouldn’t look at him. “How much do you charge to train a submissive?”

“I don’t.”

That forced her gaze up to his before it dropped to her hands again. “But I thought you said—”

“When I train a submissive, it’s because myself and the person have reached a mutual agreement to pursue that. That’s personal, not a business transaction. I’ve never charged to train a submissive. I don’t hire myself out to do that. Now, I’ve taught private sessions on technique with rope bondage, whips, that sort of thing. But the relationship between a Dominant and their submissive is a personal one. At least, it is for me. I know there are people out there who claim to make a business out of training submissives and slaves, but I’m not one of them. What I do in my personal life is for pleasure. The only reason I even accept money for my classes is to cover expenses and time, not to make a profit.”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. Her hands disappeared from the table into her lap. “Okay. I’m sorry. I misunderstood you.”

He took a chance and dropped his voice. “Shayla, look at me.”

Her eyes fluttered everywhere and anywhere but where he wanted them until she finally met his gaze. He waited until her eyes were steadily focused on him and nowhere else.

“What exactly is it you’re looking for?” he asked in the same soft, even tone.

He didn’t miss the way she swallowed, the way her throat worked, the pulse point clearly visible under her flesh.

I’d love to pull her head back and nibble all the way down her neck.

He forced himself not to budge as his erection painfully sprang to life in his pants.

“I want to go through training as a submissive. To see what it’s like from that side firsthand. I…I think that’s the only way I’m going to really understand all of this for my articles.”

He let her soft words hang in the air for a moment as he tried to process what she’d said. He couldn’t move, couldn’t sit back. The urge to adjust his pants would be too great, and he suspected what she’d just said had taken every ounce of her courage. He didn’t want to make a wrong move and scare her off.

“You want me to train you?”

Her eyes flickered away, but he waited her out. Her hazel gaze eventually returned to his again. “Yes. If you’re interested,” she quickly added. “I mean, I know you’re busy and if you don’t have the time, or don’t want to, it’s okay. I understand and it won’t hurt my feelings.”

Part of him wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms. A thick layer of insecurity lay behind her walls, of that he was now certain. She’d been rejected somewhere down the line and had taken a massive hit to her self-esteem as a result. He didn’t know exactly how or why, but he’d seen it plenty of times before in others and recognized it all too well.

Of course, he knew he could be wrong, but he doubted it.

“Is this really just for your story? No other reason?”

She nodded.

“Is any of it for you personally?”

He thought at first she wasn’t going to answer him. Then she softly said, “I don’t know. Maybe.”

He allowed himself to slowly lean back in his seat, his palms flat on his thighs under the table. He studied her, noticing the way her gaze dove away from him, down and to the side again, to the dessert menu propped up at the end of the table by the window.

I’ll have to work on that first. She would have to learn to accept direct eye contact with him, to hold and maintain it no matter how uncomfortable it might feel to her.

He realized what he’d just thought and knew regardless of the outcome, he’d probably already made up his mind the other night when they were talking at the club.

He’d just never thought he’d have a chance to make some of those fantasies come true.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll do it.”