Page 37 of The Wedding

Kathleen patted her partner’s leg. “It all worked out for you in the end though, didn’t it?”

“Not in front of polite company, Katie.”

“Anyway,” Lara continued, “I want to know what these people are like. Rumor has it that they were undercover operatives or something. Plus, I hear the Domme is cute.”

“You think anyone with cleavage is cute.”

“What does she do again? Technology?”

“She develops management apps for companies.” Ira pulled out their phone and showed Jem something on the screen. “My father hired her before the kerfuffle to develop a system for our properties. See? You can see the details at a glance, including employee and client information. Totally secure, too. It’s not a bad system at all, although when my father got into something technological before I did…”

“You thought he was about to send money to some prince in Nigeria?”

“Instead, he sends money to my mother in the form of alimony payments.”

“Oh, right, I remember now.” Kennedy leaned against the table, knocking over her empty whiskey glass. “You recommended her to us for our business. Might have to look into that.”

“Especially if she’s cute.”

“Yes, dear, especially if she’s cute.”

“Don’t know anything about this girlfriend of hers, though.” Jem shrugged. “All I’ve heard is that she’s almost tenyears younger.”

“And? How is that weird? We’re all younger than our Dommes.”

Silence fell around the table.Well, it’s not a lie.Jamie was about five years younger than Etta. Monique was also more than two or three years younger than Helen. Kathleen and Ira were close in age, but not the same. She didn’t know about Lara and Kennedy, and Gwenyth at least looked a few years younger than Jem – who may have been eternally young at heart but still called the other Dommes her peers. She was probably closer in age to Etta than Kennedy, but that didn’t say much.

“Oh, good, it’s starting. Thought I would have to sit here and talk to you people more.”

“I know. I’m not drunk enough for your stilted ramblings.”

“And I’m not horny enough for either of you.”

These words peppered the air as the lights dimmed even more and Jamie was thrown into near darkness. She saw the glint of Etta’s watch beside her, and in the cover of darkness, her hand traveled from Jamie’s knee to the inside of her thigh. For the first time all night, heat flooded Jamie’s veins. Jamie covered Etta’s hand with hers and pushed tender fingers between her knuckles. They shared a glance while someone came to the forefront of the stage, mic in hand and spotlight illuminating five silver hoops hanging from the ceiling.

The staff person introduced the first demonstration of the night – and the one most people probably came out early to see. While the woman said that this particular show was not sexual, per se, it would certainly stimulate more than a few people in the audience.

Jamie jumped when Etta’s breath suddenly appeared in her ear. “Tell me what you think when this is over.”

Shivers… especially when she pulled back Jamie’s hair from her neck and shoulders, allowing her free hand to brush against her tender skin. Jamie scooted her chair back as far as it could go, searching for the warmth of her embrace as it casually wrapped around her. No one else existed at the table. All that existed were her, Etta, and the stage they watched together.

Jamie supposed the couple were good-looking. The dominant was tall, wearing a suit jacket with a blouse buttoned up, much to Lara’s chagrin. The submissive was young. Younger than Jamie, to be sure.Eventually, I will reach the age where everyone is younger than me.She was barely heading out of her mid-twenties, so that wasn’t happening anytime soon. Yet seeing a woman who was probably hardly old enough to even be in that club get up on the stage with her partner was a trip and a half.

Yet their chemistry singed the stage the moment the Domme swept her submissive up in a firm hold and kissed her with more passion than Jamie ever saw in the movies. Her hand clung to Etta’s, strangling it, pushing deep between her fingers and getting to her own skin. Etta grunted something in her ear before Jamie finally backed off, apologizing.

“Don’t apologize for getting turned on, my flower,” she murmured. “As long as your eyes come back to mine in the end, I don’t mind where they wander.”

She pressed her lips against the back of Jamie’s neck, hand dangerously close to the hem of her skirt.Don’t you dare.She rather hoped Etta would.

The young woman on stage was left to stand in the middle of it while her partner turned to the selection of bondage implements on the side. She was poised, standing tall while keeping her eyes pointed to the ground. From what Jamie understood of this demonstration, the Domme was the “artist” and the woman the model, the centerpiece of creation. Jamie knew little about such things, but her interest was piqued when the Domme selected a long, black piece of silk and approached her girlfriend from behind.

She blindfolded her, slowly, delicately. Every movement was deliberate. Titillating. Entrancing. The submissive’s breaths quickened as her partner touched her, first her head, then her bare shoulders. She wore little. A simple black dress that hugged her torso and accentuated her breasts and hips. The hem clung to her thighs. Her leather boots coveredmore skin than that dress, and yet her look was far from erotic. It was practical for the occasion.

Her head slightly turned. The Domme’s mouth found a line in her neck and kissed it, eliciting a sigh as hands ran down her sides. The dangling ends of the blindfolds were brought up, along with her arms, until her hands held out in expectation, like the statue of an angel.

The Domme tied the ends of the blindfold around the submissive’s wrists. When released, she stood stiffly, hands dangling, propped up by her head. Next, the Domme withdrew something from her inner jacket pocket. A silver collar. Something—a pendant of some kind that Jamie could not see from that far away—sparkled in the middle of it. Soon it was around the young woman’s throat, and she shuddered to feel it placed there.

“I haven’t put a collar on you in too long,” Etta murmured again. “I should do it sometime soon. How does that sound?”