A Thousand Yesses by Jane Henry

asked.
    “Of
course.”
    “Then
yeah. I guess,” she said.
    Without
warning, his hand lifted and he slapped the inner part of her thigh. She
started. It wasn’t a hard swat, but enough to get her attention.
    “I
guess?” he said. “That’s how you answer a Dom?”
    “No,
sir,” she said, and she wondered why she felt suddenly uneasy. Was she losing
her taste for the lifestyle?
    “Good,”
he said with a grin. He put his arm around her and waved the bartender down,
ordering another drink. She frowned, and as she looked away, her heart stopped
as she heard a familiar laugh.
      Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes
grazed the booth behind them. Maverick sat, with a gorgeous, petite Latino
woman sitting across from him. Celia spun back to the bar, eyes fixed straight
ahead. Had he seen her? Well, no, he was looking in the opposite direction,
facing away from her. But she’d know that laugh, that profile, hell, she’d know
the shape and shadow of his fingers , anywhere.
    Celia
lifted her glass and finished what was in it, plunking it back down on the
counter. Lucas handed her the next glass, filled with liquid fire, with a
pleased expression on his face.
    “Good
girl,” he crooned. “You’re ready for another.” She gratefully lifted it and
took a long swig. This seemed stronger, somehow. But as another laugh came from
the booth behind them, she welcomed the heady release as she took a long sip.
    She
couldn’t take it, and needed something, anything, to pull her out of her
misery. It surprised her when she looked down and realized half her drink was
gone.
    “Did
you know they installed new cuffs in the training room?” Lucas asked her, his
voice just above a whisper, tickling her ear. She felt her body rise to meet
his, as one of his hands traveled to the top of her thigh.
    “No,”
she murmured, taking another sip. The room swam. Her chest heated, and she felt
the warmth in her cheeks and limbs. “I didn’t know that training room had
cuffs.”
    His
breath warmed her neck and ear as he leaned in even closer. “They do. I know,
because I built them with my own hands.”
    Phew, that was sexy.
    The
laughter behind them surged again, but this time she was able to bat it away,
push it behind her, as she welcomed the seductive bubble of Lucas and her
drink, that protected her from her awareness of all things Maverick.
    “You
do know I’m Dungeon Master here on occasion, don’t you?” he whispered again.
    Dungeon
Master. Shit, that
sounded hot and sexy. CTB was always careful in their selection of Dungeon
Masters. They typically hired dominants who were
heavily experienced in the BDSM lifestyle to monitor the club and enforce
safety rules for all scenes. His dark, seductive voice continued. “I like to
ensure the safety of all participants,” he said. “Though, I’ve been known to
take an errant submissive in hand.”
    Celia
took another sip of her drink, the heat of the liquid coursing through her. She
longed to be released of what plagued her, free to feel loved by someone else,
and the thought of being taken over Lucas’s knee made her shiver.
    “Do
you?” she whispered. Turning to him, she noticed her head felt funny, light and
fuzzy, but she was warm, and the heavy sadness that engulfed her seemed to be
lifting. She leaned closer to Lucas. “Do you spank them?” she whispered.
    “Gladly,”
he whispered back. “Do you need a spanking, Celia?”
    The
vision of Maverick, paddle in hand, beckoning her to him, flashed in front of
her. No. No, she couldn’t. Not now! Her heart pounded at the thought of a
spanking. God, she needed one. It had been weeks and weeks, and her need grew
by the day. She swallowed.
    “I
do,” she whispered. “I’ve been very naughty.”
    Lucas
grinned wickedly. “Then why don’t you come with me, and we’ll try out the new
cuffs?” he said. “What’s your pleasure, sweetheart? Leather? Wood? Sting or
thud?”
    A spanking from a menu? Giggling, Celia polished off