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The fact that I even questioned my life confused me.

Starting over at my age was not for the weak nor a challenge I’d willingly take on.

I had a great life, and I’d be a fool to throw it away.

I was just in a midlife slump, that was all.

Not a crisis, just a lukewarm mental state.

Besides, what would I even do? Old dog, new tricks, and all of that…

Jesus, if I had to listen to one more whining artist blabber on about why we should hire them while handing me a portfolio of random stick figures swinging a cowboy hat with the caption ‘yee haw’ on it, I was gonna lose my shit.

That hadn’t actually happened, but if they thought showing up with juvenile sketches would get them into the club, they were sorely mistaken.

Imbeciles.

I drew that same crap in the third grade. Well, maybe that was exaggerating, just a bit, but it wasn’t what I sought for our club, nor did I accept that as a sign of any real talent.

I wanted faceless bodies engaged so sinfully you couldn’t look away. Acts so delicious I wished to be a part of them. I wanted to be turned on, my panties so wet I was on the verge of orgasm without so much as being touched by myself or by another. I wanted…I wanted…

Her.

There she stood before me, so innocent, so pure.

Well, hopefully not completely innocent, but innocent to the world we were about to guide her through.

Her eyes wide as we toured the club, but alight with curiosity and a hint of mischief.

Had she envisioned herself strapped in that St. Andrews cross or bent over the spanking bench?

Maybe she was drawn to the display cubes, a velvet wand trailed over her naked flesh.

Nipples pebbled so hard, even without clamps they drew a hint of pain on their own.

Her beauty was like no other. Simple in comparison to some but so genuine, unenhanced, alluring. Even Simon did a double take and smirked when a barely audible groan escaped me.

Could it be?

Would she be the one to reignite the nearly doused flame inside me? Awaken my desire, set my soul afire, and lure me from the funk I’d been drowning in.

Jesus, now I was a fucking poet.

Her name rolled off my tongue with ease, Sonnet Celestine . Though for some reason I wished to call her Kitten. No. I wished to call her mine .

And to think I nearly cancelled today’s meeting and left this foolish quest for the perfect art behind us.

Accepting the black walls I knew all too well as a fixture for life.

But I was over that, just frustrated with the interviewees thus far.

We poured too much money into Menotté to have it be just another BDSM club. It was so much more than that.

“Harper, Harper.” Simon’s jovial voice broke through the haze. What had he found so funny? “Would you care to introduce yourself to our guest?”

Comedy was the best way to describe the blank blinks my mind rotated through as I regained focus. My visions of her and I engaged, naked bodies entwined, were so clear, yet we hadn’t made it past the lobby.

“My apologies, I’m Harper Moreau.” Her smile faltered. The urge to restore it to its rightful place upon her beautiful face nearly had me reaching out. Consent, Harper. Remember the golden rule.

“Oh, you’re married?” She gestured between Simon and me.

“No!” Simon and I blurted in unison.

Given the way she jumped, our responses came out a bit too harshly.

“Apologies. No, Simon and I have been divorced for years but remain business partners and friends. But nothing more.” Why had I added that last part? It wasn’t necessary, though her smile did return. Dare I dream and hope she’s as drawn to me as I am to her?

“Nice to meet you both. I-I, I must be honest. I’ve never visited a lifestyle club before.

” The adorable blush tinting her cheeks and neck had me wishing she were naked so I could see how far it ran.

“I have my portfolio,” she tapped the case in hand, “is there a table I could lay it out on for you to view?”

“Yes, please, follow us.” Simon and I led her into the lounge area of the club to utilize one of the tables. Carefully, she slid several pieces from her case and set them out.

“These may not be what you’re looking for, but they at least showcase my gifts.”

Gift. That she truly was and quite possibly dropped into my lap by the Goddess of Love herself.

Simon and I examined each one, the vision in my head nearly identical to what she’d shown us.

“These are very close to what I’d imagined.

Geometric shapes and lines, forming naked, faceless human bodies.

Some solo while others engaged in sensual acts.

” I glanced up at her, the heat in my eyes wouldn’t go unnoticed.

“Why don’t you come back on Saturday night for the grand reopening as my guest?

The rooms will be occupied, but perhaps that may…

influence your vision?” Either that or pique her curiosity, both of which I’d request a front row seat for.

Simon’s eyes met mine, and I knew we were on the same page and in agreement—Harper was the artist we sought.

“I have the contract in my office. Would you like for me to email it to you and your lawyer?”

She blinked those alluring hazel eyes at me. “I-I don’t have a lawyer. Do I need one?”

Oh, my sweet, sweet kitten, you’ll soon learn I’ll never screw you over and would protect you with everything I have.

“It’s always recommended for your own protection, but I can promise you it’s pretty straightforward. Shall we?”

Goddess, I’ve never asked for much and have worked hard for all I’ve achieved. Please, just let me have this one wish… Let this beautiful soul become mine.