Page 8 of Various Intentions

Daphne sighed and sat back in her seat. She seemed more in control of herself.

“So, are you going to tell me this gentleman’s name? And what’s so special about him?”

“He’s—older.”

“Do tell.”

“He’s, like, in his fifties.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Oh, Nic, he’s so wonderful. He’s handsome and funny and understands who he is, you know?”

“That can be the benefit of being older, I suppose.” I took a drink. “Although, you seem to have figured yourself out fairly early on.”

She gave me a wicked grin. “I started exploring at a very young age.”

“You little minx.”

She leaned across the table and grabbed me by the lapels of my jacket. “Nic, what am I gonna do?”

“I don’t know. But that suggestion I gave you is sound.”

“But…but what if he leaves and I never see him again?”

“Well, then, you won’t be compromising your business principles by falling in love with your client. Look… You might as well find out whether he has any of the same feelings you do.”

I quickly checked over my shoulder to make sure nobody was listening to us before I continued.

“I’ve got a problem of my own,” I said, since I didn’t get to talk one-on-one to Daphne often. At least, not in person.

That got her attention. She made a face.

“What problem can you possibly have, Nic? You have two lovely boyfriends and a young man who looks to you as a father and adores the hell out of you.”

“What? He does? Really?” I was never sure what Taylor thought of me. Most of the time he acted like he barely tolerated me.

“Oh, Nic. Sparky thinks the world of you.”

I grinned at Daphne’s nickname for Taylor, who sometimes assisted in her sex dungeon wearing a leather pup hood and atrociously tight shorts, for the amusement of her clients.

“Well, that’s good.”

“So…what’s up with you? Not enjoying Matteo’s cooking anymore? Or is there a problem with his special sauce?”

I pretended to be shocked. “Daphne.”

“Well?”

“It’s not so specific. Is there…?” I thought about how to phrase my question. “Is there something like ‘Dom burnout’? I mean, is it a thing?”

“Oh. Well, yeah. You can burn out doing anything.” Her eyes widened. “Oh. Wow. Do you think you—?”

“I don’t know. I’m finding it harder to get motivated with scenes. I feel like the three of us have already done everything—which can’t possibly be true. But any time I think of something that pushes the envelope, I worry that it’ll be too far and one of my beautiful men will mutiny…or both.”

She gave me a sympathetic look.

“And, frankly, sometimes I’m just tired—like, actually tired. And I can’t face doing a whole scene. But I don’t want them to feel like I’m just dialing it in, either.”