I stick up my nose, and once more, Ranger laughs.
“All right,” he says, shaking his head. He gets to his feet and smiles at me. “I’ll leave you alone, June, but you know that I’m always here for you. You do know that, don’t you?”
“I know,” I tell him. “And I appreciate it more than you know.”
“Of course. I’ll go see if my first victim – I mean client – is here.”
He leaves my office and I hear him walking quietly down the corridor to the front of the building. Chances are that the potential members will be prompt and on time. Most of them are. That’s because Anchored is an exclusive club. I don’t focus on bringing in new members: I focus on retention. I charge a lot for membership and in exchange, the people who frequent the club get a safe, sane, and consensual place they can play.
They also get a place that’s private and that respects their personal identities.
I have no interest in betraying the trust of my members. For most of the people who play, Anchored offers a haven where they can leave their troubles behind. There are no lawyers, no doctors, no kindergarten teachers, no daycare workers. Not at Anchored. No, when you walk into Anchored, you leave your personal life at the door. You aren’t a mother or a father or an aunt. You’re just a submissive or a Dominant. You’re just a switch. You’re just someone who has a need, and Anchored fills that need.
At least, it’s supposed to.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about my own needs, and what I want.
Would I love a handsome, masculine Dom to take care of me?
Maybe.
Would I be more comfortable with a sub of my own?
I don’t know.
The truth is that while I love the idea of playing with a woman, of dominating one, I think I really do want a Dom of my own. It seems selfish to me, though. Asking someone to meet my needs, to help me, to control me? It’s all a lot to cope with. I know, logically, that there’s nothing wrong with this.
I know that these are questions every woman, every man, who is interested in BDSM has to answer at some time, but right now I just want something easy in my life. It seems like things have been so hard for so very long, and right now I just need a break.
I lean back in my desk chair and I close my eyes.
A break, or a fucking vacation.
Chapter 4
Ryder
Martin Peterson is a hard man to follow.
I should know: I’ve been doing it for months now.
Still, when I lose sight of him for a few minutes, I can’t help but worry if this is going to be the time when he sneaks by me. I can’t help but worry if this is going to be the time he gets away.
Raising my binoculars, I finally spot him once more, and I breathe an audible sigh of relief.
“Get it together, Ryder,” I shake my head. I shouldn’t be this uncomfortable, this nervous today. After all, I’ve been shadowing Martin Peterson and his gang of grungy guys for months now, and oh, I’m getting tired.
It’s not just that this operation is taking forever. It’s not just that I’ve been stuck in town for months when I could be home in Nellenston working in my air-conditioned office. It’s not any of that.
It’s that Martin Peterson has been doing his damndest to avoid me, but I’m not going to let him. These past few weeks, I’ve buckled down, and I can tell that I’m getting close: closer than I’ve ever been before.
This isn’t my first time undercover.
This isn’t even my first time out of my home city.
This is, however, the first time that I’ve met someone who made my heart go crazy.
This is the first time I’ve met someone who makes me feel like I can fly.