“It will just take a moment to pull up the accounts.” I swallowed my nervousness down and looked at the blue screen waiting. I tapped my pen on the counter, nervously waiting for the screen to change.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
He took the pen from my grasp and put it in his shirt pocket, smiling. I must have been annoying him, and my fingers stung from the quickness with which he removed the pen from my grasp. Even the cup of pens was out of my reach, so I went with an apology instead.
“Sorry,” I expressed, focusing my attention on the screen.
“I usually do my banking once a month and I don’t think I’ve seen you here before, miss?” He rested his black cowboy hat on the end of the desk. He sat back in the chair, his legs parted and jeans tightly covering his thick legs.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the vision of those legs tangled up in mine. I had to get myself under control, and now I was down a pen to manipulate my anxiousness.
“Langley, Langley Dawson.” It came out as a squeak from my throat, and I cleared it proceeding to type his information into the computer and pressing print on the documents.
He repeated my name with a whisper, like he was testing it out on his lips, the slight Texan drawl doing things to me I denied.
“Never seen you in here before,” he said, moving the cup of pens I couldn’t reach before into my range.
I answered as I picked out another pen with the bank logo on it and clicked it nervously. “I suppose not. I just moved to town—job transfer.”
His head cocked to the side and then he took the second pen from my hand, gently snatching it from between my agitated fingers. Pretty soon I would run out of pens and apologies.
“Sorry,” I grumbled. He probably found me annoying, while I couldn’t seem to stop the ache between my thighs and shifted on the seat behind the desk.
Smiling tightly, he spoke again in his southern drawl sucking me deeper under his spell.
“My ranch is about two hours south of town,” he answered my unasked question conversationally.
“Huh,” I husked, looking up. “Seems far to come all the way here just for banking.” The printer finished its jig-sawing sound spitting out paper, and I handed him the forms to sign with my stolen pen. I felt like an amateur, my comment holding little weight between us and almost sounding insulting which wasn’t my intent. He returned the papers to me, and I shuffled them together, placing them into a file folder for my manager to review. He smiled, pocketing my pen again, and stood up to leave. At this rate, the bank would be out of pens.
“Karim has its…unique offerings.” He made it sound like there was something more, something I didn’t know about my new home. They say curiosity killed the cat, and I wanted to desperately ask when he would return to town, since he only came once a month, but I didn’t ask. I didn’t have that kind of courage, and with regret, I let the words hang between us.
We both stood and my heart seemed lodged in my throat, a heavy anchor pulling me down, preventing me from speaking. He grabbed his hat, covered his head, and nodded politely as if to say goodbye.
Part of me kicked myself for letting him go when he reached the door, turning to look at me. I half-raised my hand in goodbye and caught a glimpse of his lips curling as he turned again walking away. My hand went down, immediately feeling foolish. I had nothing to offer a man like Sloan Tanner. My mother’s voice echoed in my head with negativity I didn’t need.
My eyes followed him walking out with sure strides. He nodded to my manager who returned as they crossed each other at the door’s threshold. Alexis’ eyes widened at me, a smile pursing her lips when he said something to her I couldn’t hear through the glass and metal of the building. She shrugged her shoulders at Mr. Tanner who left, and I wondered if I would see him a month from now, and if I would be helping him do another bank transfer.
2
Sloan
Langley Dawson was a submissive. The wide-eyed blonde didn’t know it, likely had no clue, but I was certain she was a natural. It was in the subtle way she tilted her head down, the way her shoulders peppered with goose bumps, and the tentative expressions that creased her face. I had to hold my hat over my groin when she shyly called me sir inside the bank. A feat that was difficult to accomplish given my own rigid control and she had no idea the power she wielded behind her honey-colored eyes.
Wispy bangs covered her forehead, and I wondered how they would look damp with sweat from a good fucking. Would they curl at the edges like little devil horns, or would they stick to her skin all slick, darkening the blonde color to a light dirty brown.
She had no idea what doors could open for her by moving to Karim, Texas. Our community was small and The Club itself by invitation only. I toyed with the idea of inviting her to newbie night this weekend, but now wasn’t the time. I had business to finish, a sub to release from our contract, and a ranch that was getting ready for cattle season. I didn’t have time for distractions. Langley Dawson would have to wait.
I stopped her bank manager, Alexis Nightly, on my way out the door. I wasn’t surprised when Alexis warned me off. In fact, her words were: Langley is a good girl, too green, a budding rose among savages, and, not your type–cowboy. We used to play occasionally, before I took subs out to the ranch for the full immersed experience. She knew the moment she locked eyes with me that I had thrown my rope out for Langley.
Langley was young, but no so young I was going to break any laws if I pursued her. Jailbait held no interest for me. I hadn’t realized I had a type, but over the years of playing at The Club, I supposed Alexis would know.
Instead, Alexis suggested something else that, under other circumstances, I might have entertained to play later tonight. Nothing was more refreshing to me then a willing partner who was amiable to skirting the edges of pain and pleasure so freely. Unfortunately, Alexis had been known to often try topping from the bottom. Today, I wasn’t in the mood to discipline a switch. Besides, I’d left my favorite flogger at home not intending for this trip to be anything more than what it was—a bank transfer and the dissolution of a contract. Ranching was hard enough and my last sub quickly lost my interest when she found out I didn’t plan to move back to Karim preferring the comforts of my ranch. That was the problem with city girls, they had expectations I had no desire to fulfill. The very reason my contracts were specific and short term. Anything else bred complications I did
n’t wish to explore.