Page 4 of Whatever Lola Wants (Odyssey #2)

Two hours later, Lola was curled up on her sofa in yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt, twenty pages into a partnership agreement drawn up by one of her firm’s new associates.

It was a piece of crap, so full of holes it could have passed for Swiss cheese, so her irritation was at a high point when her cell phone rang.

“What?” she answered and drew a big fat red line through another clause.

“Lola Wright ?”

She frowned, pen poised above the page. “ Yes ?”

“This is Michael O’Riley . Grant Snow asked me to call you.”

She winced. Shit . “ Michael , yes. I’m sorry, I was in the middle of something.”

“Is this a bad time?”

She glanced at the pages in her lap, dripping red ink, then tossed them on the coffee table. “ No , it’s fine. Thank you for calling.”

“Grant mentioned you have an interest in becoming a member of Odyssey .”

“Yes.” She hesitated for a moment, then decided to just lay it out. “ Can I speak frankly, Michael ?”

“Please,” he murmured, and she thought she heard a hint of amusement in his voice.

Well, that was fine. “ It’s been several years since I’ve been active in the scene, and I’d like to return. But I have some concerns.”

“You were active here in Chicago ?”

Now she was amused. He no doubt knew the answer to that question, but she’d play along. “ No , in San Francisco . I stopped attending clubs and parties about a year before I moved to Chicago three years ago.”

“I see. Are you a submissive?”

He already knew the answer to that, as well. “ No , I’m a switch.”

“Interesting.” His voice went speculative. “ We don’t have many switches at Odyssey .”

I’m not a unicorn, she thought with a spurt of annoyance.

“Can you provide any references?” Michael asked, oblivious to her irritation. “ From former play partners, clubs, etcetera?”

“Of course, though not from anyone in Chicago ."

“I’m familiar with the San Francisco scene.”

Okay, then. “ The club I frequented most often was The Spot . Xander Hayes is the owner.”

“Hmm.” She heard the light scratching of a pen on paper. “ Anyone else?”

“A couple of private play partners, but I’m afraid I can’t give their names without speaking with them first.”

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “ Why don’t you come by the club tomorrow night, around eight-thirty. We should speak privately before the club gets too busy for me to step away.”

She mentally checked her schedule and ruthlessly rearranged it. “ That’ll be fine.”

“I trust you don’t need directions?”

“No, I’ve been there before.” As you well know .

“Of course. I’ll see you then. Oh , and Lola ?”

“Yes?”

“I’d like you to bring your toy bag, if you have one. I trust that won’t be a problem?”

Her lips twitched again. “ No , no problem.”

“Excellent. I’ll look forward to seeing you.”

She laughed as the call ended and, tossing her pen down on the forgotten draft. She rose from her desk, padding through the apartment on bare feet. She thumbed her phone, pulling up Anna’s number as she walked into the spare bedroom she’d turned into a home office.

“Hi, Lo . What’s up?”

She opened the closet she used to store winter coats, luggage, and the large leather bag she hadn’t used in over four years. “ Are you and Grant still going to the club tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, probably about nine-thirty. Why ? Did you change your mind about coming along?”

“I’m meeting with Michael at eight-thirty.”

Anna’s gasp made her grin as she tugged the bag from the floor of the closet and set it on the desk.

“To join?”

“I think it’s more of an audition,” Lola said. “ He asked for references.”

“Really?” Anna sounded intrigued. “ He didn’t do that with me.”

“Well, you’re a submissive.” Lola unzipped the bag and pulled out the plastic case that held her needles. “ If I’m going to be topping people in his club, he’s going to want to make sure I’m not a fuckup.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense. Hey , Grant ?”

Lola heard a muffled, “ Yeah , sugar?” from the other end.

“Did Michael ask for references from you before you joined the club?”

“Yeah,” she heard Grant say, his voice closer to the phone. “ And he watched me like a hawk until he was sure I was a safe player. Is that Lola ?”

“Yeah. She says he’s checking references.”

“SOP, baby.”

“SOP?”

“Standard operating procedure,” Grant explained while Lola flipped open her kit.

Needles lay individually packaged, arranged according to gauge, their colorful hubs visible through the clear packaging.

There was a little spray bottle labeled ‘alcohol’, a sharps container, black nitrile gloves, a tube of antibiotic ointment, some medical grade absorbent pads in sterile packaging, and a medical stapler.

“Lola? Are you still there?”

“Hmm? Yeah .” Lola scanned the kit, making note of the things that needed replacing before tomorrow night.

The needles didn’t expire, but she’d want new gloves and ointment, alcohol, and it wouldn’t hurt to turn in the sharps container for a new one.

Closing the kit, she reached back into her toy bag and came up with a pair of leather cuffs. “ I’m just going through my toy bag.”

“You have a toy bag?”

The shock in Anna’s voice had Lola snorting out a laugh. “ Of course, I have a toy bag.”

“What’s in it?”

Lola grinned, fingering the rope. “ If I pass my audition, I’ll show you.”

“Not the poky bits,” Anna said immediately.

“Not the poky bits,” Lola agreed. “ I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

She clicked off, setting the phone aside as she continued to pull items out of the bag. Vampire glove, steel claws. Beloved old friends, out to play again. She hummed with pleasure, then turned to look back at the closet.

What was she going to wear?

* * *

At eight-twenty-five Friday night, Lola stood outside the building that housed Odyssey .

She knew from Anna that Michael lived in an apartment on the top floor, and that the first three floors were dedicated club and play space.

She’d only seen the club level, the night she’d accompanied Anna last fall to meet Grant .

She’d come as moral support that thankfully hadn’t been needed, but she’d enjoyed a very nice glass of scotch—and put it on Grant’s tab.

She’d figured it was the least he could do.

She shouldered her bag, automatically adjusting her gait to account for its weight as she strode to the entrance.

She’d dressed simply in jeans and a white t-shirt topped by a black blazer, and her footwear—red vinyl boots that peeked out from under the cuffs of her jeans—matched the just-in-case outfit she had stashed in her bag.

She reached the heavy double doors. Assuming they’d be locked, she lifted the heavy door knocker, gave it two bangs and stepped back to wait.

It took a few minutes, but the door finally opened with a creak.

The face that poked out wasn’t friendly—shaved head gleaming white in the security light, black goatee, obsidian eyes.

He scowled when he saw her, and the scar that slashed through one cheek deepened.

“ We don’t open for thirty minutes. Come back. ”

“I’m here to see Michael ,” she told him.

He paused. “ You’re Lola ?”

“Yes.”

In any other context, the up and down scrutiny he subjected her to would’ve pissed her off, but she understood it was part of the game. Finally , his gaze returned to her face, and she arched a single eyebrow. His lips twitched once before he scowled again.

“He said you’d be by,” he finally rumbled and shoved the door open.

She stepped past him with a gracious smile. “ Thank you.”

He shut the door with a bang, leaving them in a dimly lit hallway. “ I’m Axe . Follow me.”

She wanted to grin, but gamely fought it back. “ Nice to meet you, Axe .”

She got another grunt in response. Axe apparently wasn’t much of a conversationalist. Taking it philosophically, she turned her attention to her surroundings.

They were walking through the bar area she’d visited before, the lights up as the staff worked to ready the room for the evening.

Two bartenders polished wood and glass, the woman in a skimpy leather halter top and matching low-rise pants.

The man wore leather pants and nothing else, an impressively muscled chest on full display.

They both gave her a respectful nod when she passed, and she smiled and nodded in return.

And knew they watched as she continued on.

Servers dressed in the Odyssey uniform of short shorts and wrist cuffs that bore the club logo were checking the seating areas, carrying dishes of popcorn and pretzels to the tables from the bar.

Bare breasts of various sizes, shapes and colors bounced and swayed, and Lola couldn’t quite suppress the grin.

She imagined all the bare flesh in the bar area got the crowd ready to move into the play spaces pretty quickly.

Axe took a sharp right turn past the bar and led her down a narrow hallway, past several doors marked Staff Only to one at the end of the hall marked Private . Axe thumped his fist once on the door, then pushed it open.

“Visitor, boss.”

“Thank you, Axe ,” came the reply. “ You can go back to the door.”

The big man nodded, his shaved head gleaming in the overhead lights. He turned to go.

“Axe.” Lola waited until he’d looked back. “ Thanks for the escort.”

He looked momentarily startled, then favored her with a wide smile that transformed his face from menacing to charming. “ No problem.”

Lola stepped into the open doorway.

The man behind the desk wasn’t a surprise. She’d seen Michael O’Riley before, though the full force of his attention hadn’t been on her then. She had the fleeting thought that it was a good thing she wasn’t submissive, because this guy was sure as shit dominant.