So why did she feel like she’d been locked in a cage and she might not be let out?
She wished Michael was here with her. She might not feel so alone if Michael was here.
Or Dani. The way they’d planned this first evening, Dani should have been here in the locker room waiting to show her around. Instead she was meeting Tessa, who had been described as a long-time submissive. She was David Hawthorne’s fiancée. They’d met briefly, but she didn’t know the woman well.
She’d actually noticed that Michael had an invitation to their wedding that he hadn’t responded to. It was sitting on the table in the entryway where Michael put his wallet and keys when he walked in. He took most of the mail to his desk, but that invite was still sitting there. She probably shouldn’t have opened it, but she’d been curious about the pretty invitation.
Three days in to practically living with the man and she found herself falling into all of his traps. She’d woken up that first day and realized he’d carried her to the guest bedroom and tucked her in, and the sweetness of the gesture had pierced through her. So much so that she’d held herself back the rest of the week. She’d agreed that she couldn’t go home, but she also couldn’t play house with him.
So she went to work during the day, and she’d had her first session with the therapist. It turned out it was kind of nice to be able to talk to someone who had no judgments to make. Then she came home with Michael, and they trained in the evening, with him teaching her the ins and outs of how to behave in a club, teaching her form and the practicalities, but there had been no more soulful kisses or deep talks. He’d made sure she was familiar with the types of play she might see and the various “toys” used in scenes, but they hadn’t tried them out. She could sense his frustration, but she wasn’t ready for how he made her feel when they were truly in synch.
Like everything was right with the world. Like she could breathe again.
“I do not understand how you walk in those shoes.” A pretty woman in tiny shorts and a sheer T-shirt that barely covered her breasts was walking down the hallway. She was petite and barefoot.
Her friend was not. Her friend wore five-inch stilettos that Vanessa would bet had some slick red soles. The woman wore a miniskirt and blinged-out corset, her shiny dark hair curling over her shoulders. “I have to or I only come to Wolf’s chest. Leo’s the tiniest bit shorter. I should have picked smaller men if I didn’t want to be in heels for the rest of my life.”
Shelley Meyer. She hadn’t met the woman, but she had met one of her husbands. Leo was The Club’s resident therapist.
“I’ve even stopped putting my heroines in heels. I’m a kinder, gentler author. Seriously, though, I can’t do it. I don’t know why, but having four kids has ruined my arches,” the other woman said. She had to be Lexi O’Malley. Dani talked about the woman a lot. She was a romance author, and a lot of Dani’s employees read her.
Shelley shrugged. “I have a kid. I can be a mom and fashionable. If having more than one means I only wear flats, then we’re done. They’ll take my Louboutins out of my cold, dead hands.”
Lexi’s nose wrinkled. “But having a bunch can be fun. I mean when they’re not causing me to have a heart attack.”
“I might try for one more, but she better be a girl. I’ve seen what boys can do when they’re in a pack,” Shelley said with a chuckle. She seemed to realize they weren’t alone. “Oh, hi. You must be the new girl.” She grimaced a little. “Sorry. It’s weird because this should be the part where I introduce myself and then you do, but I already know your name and stuff.”
Vanessa held out a hand. “And I think I know yours. Shelley? And Lexi?”
Shelley shook her hand, but Lexi was studying her.
“You’re shockingly normal,” Lexi said, reaching out a hand.
Vanessa shook it. “Expected me to have a couple of heads?”
Lexi’s lips curled up. “And a backpack so you can shove the money you steal into it. Maybe a couple of knives to backstab with.”
Shelley gasped.
But Vanessa knew a joke when she heard one. There was something about the other woman’s eyes that told her she wasn’t accusing. “I am knife free for now. I used my last one. I need another sugar daddy so I can buy more.”
Shelley’s eyes had gone wide. “I’m so sorry. She didn’t mean anything. She wasn’t trying to be rude. She doesn’t understand.”