Page 9 of Going Deep (Odyssey #3)

She’d gotten an approving smile and a wink from Axe as he’d wrapped a white bracelet—still no colored stripes—around her wrist, boosting her confidence.

She wasn’t entirely convinced that Lola’s wardrobe choice had been correct, but she’d been outvoted.

The leather pencil skirt with the full-length zipper from last night was paired with a white dress shirt.

It was an older shirt, the cotton soft from dozens of washings.

It wasn’t tailored to be form-fitting and was just a little big, giving it a boxy, slightly masculine shape.

She wore it tucked in and bloused out just a bit, adding to the impression that it was too large.

Her cuffs were unbuttoned and rolled back to expose her wrists, and the buttons were undone far enough to give glimpses of the inner curves of her breasts as she moved.

She was acutely aware that she was braless. And the lack of panties, combined with her freshly shaved pussy, was extremely distracting. Mostly because she was already wet.

She crossed the room slowly out of necessity—she really wasn’t used to three-inch heels—and glanced around, trying to spot Michael .

She didn’t see him, and thought briefly about trying to hunt him up, but the club was crowded—much more crowded than it had been the night before—and he’d specifically told her to meet him at the bar.

So that’s where she went, commandeering one of the few empty stools, and laid the envelope she was carrying down before she could smear the ink with her sweaty palms.

The bartender, a tall, impressively built young Black man in leather pants, boots, and nothing else, approached with a flashing smile. “ Can I get you a drink, miss?”

“Oh.” She thought for a moment about ordering a cocktail to help settle her nerves, then remembered the rule about drinking and play. “ Just a mineral water, if you have it. With lime, please?”

He winked and grabbed a glass. “ You got it.”

He worked quickly, sliding the finished drink across the bar in no time. “ Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thank you,” she said with a smile and, picking up her drink, swiveled to face the room.

It wasn’t wall to wall bodies, but it was close.

More men than women milled among the tables, most of them clad in jeans or leathers.

The women were more scantily dressed, lots of miniskirts and bare breasts, with a couple of them completely naked except for wrist and ankle cuffs.

She noticed the naked women also wore collars, and lacked the wristband that indicated an unattached submissive.

She sipped the mineral water slowly, not wanting to have to rush to the bathroom.

She noted the dance floor held a lot more women than the bar area, many of them with the white bands on their wrists.

She felt a spurt of amusement as she realized the social rules regarding dancing in a normal club apparently held true here as well—single women danced together, both in an effort to attract male attention and to give them something to do while waiting for that attention.

“That’s a pretty smile,” said a voice to her left, and she turned to see a tall man with olive skin and silver hair smiling at her.

“Thank you,” she replied politely.

His smile widened. “ I’m Jake .”

She automatically shook the hand he held out in greeting. “ Ginger .”

“Ginger.” He held on to her hand, dark grey eyes looking into hers with interest. “ I haven’t seen you here before. You’re new?”

“Yes.” She felt a flicker of unease when she tugged her hand and his fingers tightened. When he let it go, she wrapped both hands around her drink.

“Well, maybe I can give you a tour.” His gaze wandered down her body, lingering on her breasts. “ Show you some of the equipment.”

“Thank you,” she repeated, her voice cooler now in response to his blatant leering. “ But I’m waiting for someone.”

Jake leaned on the bar, too close for comfort. “ Are you? That’s a shame.” His eyes swept over her again. “ Still , I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you wandered around a bit, to get the lay of the land. I’ll have you back in no time.”

She frowned at the hand he held out. “ Yes , he would.”

A hand came down on her shoulder. “ I really would.”

Michael. She exhaled, a small sound of relief that carried no further than him, and some of her anxious tension eased.

He squeezed her shoulder gently, but his eyes were hard, cold, and focused on Jake .

“Jake,” he said coolly.

“Michael,” Jake replied, his eyes flickering to the proprietary hand on Ginger’s shoulder. Understanding dawned in his eyes, and he straightened from the bar.

“It was nice to meet you, Ginger ,” he told her with a respectful nod. “ Enjoy your evening.”

She nodded in return, but he was already walking away, just slow enough so he wouldn’t look like he was running, toward the front door.

She turned to Michael with a relieved smile. “ Hello , Sir .”

He didn’t smile back. His jaw was clenched, his eyes narrowed as he studied her expression carefully. “ Jake made you uncomfortable.”

“Oh.” She swallowed, taken aback at the steel in his voice. And was once again unable to lie. “ Yes .”

“How?”

“He…when he shook my hand, and I wanted to let go, he tightened his hold, just for a moment. And he wasn’t taking no for an answer, not until you showed up.”

The muscle in his jaw ticked. “ I’ll take care of it.”

She started to tell him that wasn’t necessary, that it wasn’t that bad, then stopped herself. If Michael hadn’t come along when he had, it might have gotten bad. “ Thank you.”

He nodded and turned to the bar. “ Skip ?”

The bartender stepped over. “ Sir ?”

“Please call Axe at the door and let him know Jake isn’t to be let back on the premises until he hears differently from me.”

The young man inclined his head. “ Will do, Boss .”

“Thank you,” Michael said, then turned back to Ginger . The chill in his eyes had faded, and the beginnings of a smile were curving his mouth. “ Well , now that that’s handled. Hello , Ginger .”

Relieved, she smiled back. “ Hi .”

“Thank you for waiting for me,” he began, then his eyes landed on the glass she held. “ What’re you drinking there, darling?”

“Just mineral water.”

“Ah.” He reached behind her to pluck the envelope off the bar, one eyebrow quirked in question. “ And this for me?”

She nodded, butterflies taking flight in her belly. “ Yes , Sir .”

“Excellent. Let’s go somewhere more comfortable where I can read this, shall we?”

She set her drink down, and placing her hand in his, slid off the stool.

“You look lovely tonight.”

“Thank you.” She resisted the urge to pluck at the shirt as they walked. “ I wasn’t sure about the shirt, but Lola was.”

His eyes skimmed over her, lingering on her breasts, swaying gently beneath the soft fabric. “ Remind me to thank her later.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she remained silent while they wove through the tables circling the bar.

Several people acknowledged Michael with nods or waves, and there were plenty of speculative glances sent her way.

But Michael didn’t stop to chat, towing her along behind him until they reached a chair that had been angled slightly away from the rest of them, a small sign on the seat that read RESERVED .

“Here we are,” he said and reached down to pluck the sign from the seat. Setting it aside, he lifted a velvet pillow from the chair and set it on the floor in front of the chair.

She stared at it, then looked up at him. “ Is that for me?”

His eyes were a cool, shimmering green in the dim light. “ Yes . How does that make you feel?”

“Like I should’ve worn something with a little more give in it,” she replied, looking down at her skirt. “ Um , how should I do this?”

“The easiest way is just to go to your knees.”

“Okay,” she said and, tightening her grip on his hand, did just that.

It didn’t feel graceful—and would have certainly been less so without his support—but she managed it without falling, so she decided to call it a win. She settled her butt on her heels, leather straining across her thighs.

“Comfortable?” he inquired.

“Not really.” She winced. “ The zipper is digging into my leg”

“Well, we can fix that.”

He crouched in front of her, one hand still holding hers, and with the other, grasped the tab on the zipper. With a flick of his wrist, she had a slit in her skirt. “ Better ?”

She looked at her leg, bared almost to the hip, then at him. “ Yes . Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” With amusement glinting in his emerald gaze, he took the chair. “ Feel free to shift around if you need to, for comfort. But don’t get up without asking.”

That sounded reasonable, given the context. “ Yes , Sir .”

With a nod, he leaned back in the chair, pulled her list out of the envelope, and began to read.

Since he didn’t seem to require her attention, Ginger glanced around the room.

The crowd had grown even thicker, with people crowding in two and three deep around the bar and milling around the tables.

There was still a buffer around their little corner, three or four feet of empty space that was no doubt a sign of the respect—or maybe fear—that Michael commanded in the club.

She could only be grateful for it. Her anxiety was stirring, fed by the crowd, the speculative glances and murmurs, and the knowledge that Michael was reading her deepest, innermost personal desires.

Reminding herself that she couldn’t control the opinions of strangers—and that she’d written those deep, personal desires precisely so he could read them—she closed her eyes, took slow, even breaths and did a quick, internal check-in.

The anxiety wasn’t bad—more nerves than panic, more excitement than fear.

Oh , there was a little fear, but curiously enough, it seemed to make her panties wet.

Or would have, if she’d been wearing panties.