Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
And that’s when it hit me where we were going.
“Astrid Walker!” I hissed as I stepped out and closed the door, hearing the car lock. “We cannot take a baby into a strip club!” My panic made the wrong words come out, and my sister jumped on the opportunity to correct me.
“One, she’s not a baby. She’s four. And two, it’s not a strip club. It’s a workout studio. Plus, she’s not staying. She has a playdate with Corbin and Vi’s little ones up the street at the children’s discovery place so you can focus. See? There she is now.” Astrid looked over my shoulder and waved, and I turned to spot Vi walking quickly toward us on the sidewalk.
When she was near, she reached out to Luna, who immediately squealed, jumped into her arms, and pressed her cheek to Vi’s, squishing their faces she hugged her auntie so tightly. “I’ve got her, Mama. And you’ve got this. Imma hurry back though, because I don’t want to leave the kids unsupervised. Love y’all,” our best friend—and the wife of one of the other team members—assured, and then she disappeared through the door she had come from.
I looked at Astrid, my face showing my annoyance. “Does everyone know what I’m being subjected to?”
She shook her head. “Of course not. Just us girls and Doc. Because we have a plan.”
“What plan?”
“Well, it’s not fully formed yet, but part of it is to make sure you have something special to give your husband for his birthday.”
And with that, she grabbed my arm and hauled me into Crystal’s studio, who locked the frosted door behind us with a grin.
Now, as the woman stands in front of me—sans all the makeup, false eyelashes, and cleavage from yesterday and instead wearing one of those high-impact sports bras that zip up the front to her collarbones—that whole freeze thing I’m known for kicks into high gear. As sweet as Crystal is, I get the impression she has the ability to flip a switch and could suddenly become a badass drill sergeant, running this place like a boot camp if she chose to.
Much like my sweet, goofball husband, who at the drop of a hat can conjure the intimidating Dominant, Seven, who lives just beneath his always-sinfully-beautiful surface.
I wonder if Crystal has a name for that other persona I somehow sense within her.
What was your stripper name? I wonder, and when she asks, “What? Crystal isn’t stripper enough as it is?” with a laugh, I want the wooden floor to open up and swallow me as I realize I asked that question out loud.
My face goes up in flames, and I rush to apologize. “Oh my God, Crystal. I’m so sorry. I did not mean to say that. I swear, I was just thinking about how you’re so nice, but there’s something about you that tells me you could probably be a tough trainer and hurt me if you wanted to. And then I thought about how my husband—” I cut my rambling off abruptly, because no one is supposed to know that Seth Owens is Seven, owner of an exclusive BDSM club. “Uhhh… he has like… this alter ego when he’s uhh… goofing off that he’s named. And I was like, I wonder if Crystal has a name for this badass I think she’s hiding inside, and somehow that came out of my mouth as ‘stripper name.’”
She exchanges a look with Astrid, and then the two of them fall into a fit of laughter, making me feel a little nauseous I’m so humiliated.
“Honey, I believe you mean my Domme name, which you actually met me briefly by at the New Year’s party at the club. My husband—my sub—introduced me to you as Countess. I have this… blood thing.” She shrugs with a gleam in her dark eyes, and then her voice lowers and slightly deepens, taking on a sensual tone that makes me hold my breath. “You must be a very good submissive to so easily pick up on my role, which I’ve spent years perfecting the ability to hide… unless I don’t want to.”
I swallow thickly, but shockingly, I don’t blush or freeze. In fact, something about her tone is soothing, makes me feel safer in this space than I had just moments ago. And for her to compliment my instincts, going so far as to say I must be a very good submissive, heals a little piece of my broken self-confidence in that role.
Maybe I have picked up and learned more than I realize?
When I’ve discovered a lot of my anxiety has disappeared, I meet her knowing eyes and smile gratefully. “Thank you for saying that. And it’s nice to know someone from the club on the outside. That’s definitely a relief,” I tell her. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you. I always thought the little masks and stuff we wear there would be ineffectual if we met another member at like… the grocery store or something. No way it could be like Clark Kent and his fake glasses. Surely all those people weren’t fooled. The hero they always saw blasted all over the news and stuff, and they couldn’t tell it was him just because of a pair of glasses? Come on. But I guess….”