Bonds of Love

Dreamspinner Press www.dreamspinnerpress.com Copyright ©2010 by Mickie B. Ashling First published in 2010, 2010 NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

CONTENTS Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two Chapter Thirty-Three Chapter Thirty-Four Chapter Thirty-Five Epilogue Published by

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**** To my friend and personal editor, Jeannie G., with much gratitude and respect. To Ann, an insightful reader, and friend, who always gets to the core of my stories with her probing questions. To Jackie and Lyn for their ongoing presence. Lastly, to all the readers who enjoyed Impacted! and begged for a sequel. Thank you for continuing to support my work.

Chapter One "Don't come yet!” Robin ordered, soaking up the sight of his gorgeous sub. Scott was stretched out with each limb tied to a thick mahogany post on the king-size bed. The red silk scarves looked striking against the goldenbrown tan Scott had acquired over the last few days. He was blindfolded and begging, two of Robin's favorite things. They'd been going at it for over an hour—an hour of delicious torture as Robin drove Scott crazy with the ice dildos. They had looked harmless when Scott first saw them, but they'd succeeded in reducing every nerve ending into a throbbing conduit of erotic electricity that traveled from the tips of his toes all the way up to his brain. Their evening had started out innocently enough when they took their seats at La Fondue Restaurant in Incline Village, Lake Tahoe. They'd ordered a

sample platter, giving them a variety of meat, chicken, and seafood, along with the cut-up fruit they would have for dessert. One pot had been filled with melted chocolate, the other with boiling hot oil. There had been assorted dipping sauces to accompany the cuts of meat and a bottle of Sterling Vineyard's Petite Syrah to top it off. It was the third day of their vacation, a much-needed break from the stress they'd been living through for the last four months. Scott had looked tired, but Robin had still thought he was the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen. His blond hair had gleamed in the soft light cast by the huge fireplace on one side of the room, and the emerald green eyes had sparkled like the many stars that filled the sky in this peaceful mountain village. Scott had grinned when Robin had dropped a chunk of meat on the pristine white tablecloth. "You don't get out much, do you?” Scott had asked, spearing the piece of tenderloin with his own fork and dropping it into the copper pot of boiling oil. "Shut up, love. It's these fucking tiny fork things. Why

can't they give you normal utensils?" "Then it wouldn't be as romantic.” Scott had smiled. “This is what fondue is all about,” he had purred, placing a chocolate-covered strawberry in Robin's mouth. “Savor it, Red. Pretend it's me in your mouth,” Scott had teased, lapping at his own piece of fruit. "You're a little shit, and you'll pay soon enough.” Robin's harsh words had contradicted the look of pure joy that had lit up his freckled face as he gazed at his sub. He'd fallen hard for Scott the minute he'd set eyes on him a year ago when he'd walked into the BDSM club in San Ramon. It had started out as a random hook-up but had turned into a deep and abiding relationship that had survived many external forces conspiring to keep them apart. Robin had shifted in his seat, getting worked up from watching Scott fellate the pineapple sliver he'd dipped into the chocolate. He had decided he would definitely make his boy pay as soon as they were done with this meal. The idea of fondue had been Scott's, but he'd jumped on it, since he'd never

tried it before. Who knew that it would turn into the most erotic foreplay he'd experienced in a long time? Watching Scott dip the fruit into the chocolate and lick each piece, all the while telling him the wicked things he was going to do to his cock, had made him a little crazy. He had become rock hard and had lost interest in the food. All he had wanted to do was take his boy back to the hotel and pound him into the mattress. When he could stand it no longer, he had signaled the waiter, paid the bill, and said, “Let's go." The state of his arousal had increased even further when Scott had pulled him into the boutique in the hotel lobby to look at the Italian silk tie that was displayed in the window. There was a tiny red handcuff dangling off a chain in the middle of the gray silk brocade. It wasn't the kind of tie Scott normally wore, but neither man had been able to resist the design. "Close your eyes, babe,” Robin had whispered as soon as they shut the door of their suite. “I'm blindfolding you with your new tie."

Scott had complied eagerly, pulled into his submissive role by the tone of Robin's voice and the feel of the silk being wrapped expertly around his head. It had been a while since they'd had any kind of intense scene. They'd been too busy getting the new office ready and would usually fall into bed exhausted. Getting away had allowed them to get into the right frame of mind, and tonight had seemed like the perfect night to play. Robin had had a surprise up his sleeve that would fit in nicely with the evening's seductive atmosphere. He'd prepared two ice dildos the night before while Scott was asleep, pouring water into two condoms, stretching them to the maximum, and then placing them in the freezer. He had peeled off the latex and admired his creations; they were perfect, the length and girth guaranteed to drive his sub insane. And now, one hour later, Robin continued to torture Scott in the most loving way. He decided to untie him, rubbing his extremities gently to restore the blood flow. The blindfold remained, however,

enhancing every single sensation. When he was sure that Scott was comfortable and his wrists and ankles weren't numb, he rubbed the ice across Scott's feet, enjoying his gasp of surprise. He followed the path of the ice with his hot tongue, tormenting Scott with the opposing sensations of hot and cold. Being in the dark intensified the pleasure, judging from the way Scott quivered under the expert hands of his Dom. Robin's warm breath and soft, lapping tongue dueled with the almost painful feel of the ice gliding on skin. Scott was going wild, desperate to touch himself, only to have his hand swatted away. "No touching,” Robin admonished. He moved up toward Scott's head and straddled his face, passing his dick lightly across Scott's mouth, allowing him a taste of the moisture that glistened on the spongy head. Scott reacted like a man starved, opening his mouth eagerly. Robin pulled away after a few minutes and slid back down to Scott's legs, resuming the icy torture while the moaning turned into a frustrated whimpering as Scott's head moved from left to right, seeking his

Scott's head moved from left to right, seeking his Master's taste. The ice continued its journey, followed relentlessly by the warm tongue that had taken on a life of its own, climbing up Scott's leg like the most deadly viper. Robin was meticulous, licking at every square inch of flesh, only moving to the next spot when he heard a moan or a sigh, loving the feel of the tiny goose bumps that covered Scott's body, clear proof of his arousal. Scott begged to be touched; his rigid shaft was aching for a mouth or a hand, but Robin bypassed it. Instead, he concentrated on Scott's inner thighs, scraping the tender skin with rough stubble, moving toward his balls with the alternating play of his hot mouth and the melting ice. Scott spread his legs, giving Robin access to his quivering, sweet center. He sighed when he felt Robin's warm breath on the puckered skin that thrummed with want. He spread his legs even wider, offering himself unquestioningly as Robin probed. "Fuck...."

"Tell me, love." "Your mouth...." "Say it." "Fuck me... your tongue... please,” Scott groaned, rutting against Robin's face, a little too frantic. Robin pulled back, determined to stretch this out as long as possible. "Easy, love.” Robin's voice was a balm that seemed to soothe Scott into holding back. Robin continued the agonizing torture with the interplay of hot and cold, toying with every one of Scott's senses. He fondled Scott's sac, now heavy with pent-up need, kneading and rolling the smooth skin that Scott kept completely free of hair for Robin's pleasure. Scott cried out when Robin took him in his mouth, clutching at the red curls with desperate hands, begging him to let him come, but the teasing continued. Robin was merciless tonight. "Don't come yet,” Robin commanded again,

pinching the base of Scott's cock to halt the momentum. "Red, fuck... you're killing me...." Ignoring him, Robin slowly pushed the ice dildo past the tight ring of muscle, twisting and turning the cold wand that was melting rapidly with Scott's body heat. The icy finger against Scott's prostate made him shudder and buck in Robin's arms like a bronco with a burr under his saddle, desperate to shake it off. The moaning was reaching epic proportions, and Robin could tell that Scott wouldn't last much longer. He repositioned himself, placing Scott's body in between his knees while he dribbled icy drops of water over Scott's swollen member. He never touched him; he just continued to let the water land on the beautiful shaft that twitched with each drop. "I'm going to fuck you till you scream,” Robin growled. Scott was thrashing, desperate to move this

forward. He clutched at Robin's arms, leaving halfmoon marks as his nails dug into the creamy skin. “Master, please,” he begged once more. Robin smiled triumphantly, watching the water streak down Scott's stomach and pubic area in swift rivulets. His own erection demanded attention, and he switched plans at the last minute. He grabbed the lube off the nightstand, slicked Scott quickly, and impaled himself, taking Scott deep up his own ass and holding him in that position as he too enjoyed the contrasting hot and cold sensations. "Oh... oh, Red, oh, holy fuck,” Scott cried out, stunned by the feel of the hot vice around his cock. His brain was on complete overload, switching from the pain of the wait to the utter ecstasy of the moment, and he soared, high on the strength of the orgasm that was about to crash into him. "Red, the condom... I can't hold this." "Fuck the condom. Come for me, baby,” Robin said, pulling the tie off of Scott's head and staring into the disbelieving green eyes.

"What?" "Do it, love! Come inside me.” Robin's voice cracked, and he threw his head back and roared. He felt Scott come, felt the moist heat shooting through him, even as his own semen flowed onto his sub's stomach and chest, spraying him with ribbons of warm spunk. Scott cried out, arching off the pillow while he shot forcefully into Robin's body. He felt Robin clutch at him, heard the noises coming out of his Master's throat as the wet heat blossomed everywhere. Scott was flying. **** It was sometime during the night when Robin awoke, still clinging to Scott. He was sticky with the dried come smeared all over his chest, and he felt the wetness between his ass cheeks. He couldn't believe that he'd let Scott come inside him. They hadn't even talked about the possibility of doing it raw, but he got caught up in the moment and let it

happen. He knew Scott was clean. He knew for a fact, because they'd been to the clinic a few weeks ago for their tests, so that wasn't the issue. The issue was his loss of control. He'd crossed the line between being a Dom and a lover and had let himself soar as well. He sighed deeply and felt Scott stir. "Red? You awake?" "Yeah." "What's the matter?" "Nothing." Scott wiggled free from his embrace and leaned up on an elbow. He barely made out Robin in the dim light, but even without seeing his face, he could tell by his Dom's body language that he was bothered by something. "Tell me... don't shut me out."

"I should have asked you first. We should have discussed it." "Red... I wanted it just as much." "Did you?" "God, yes!" Robin wrapped his arms around Scott, burying his face in the blond hair. He let himself go with his feelings, allowing his love to overshadow any fears of losing control. He knew that his concerns were groundless, based on the preconceived notion that Doms were always in control, when the reality was the complete opposite. Most of the power in a D/s relationship lay in the hands of the sub. They called the shots. They drew the lines. What was confusing from the beginning of this relationship was that he'd fallen for his sub in a big way and wanted to receive almost as much as he gave. Robin wasn't a switch and had never had the desire to become one, yet tonight was the perfect example of his ambivalent state of mind when it

came to Scott. He should have been the one to do the fucking, but all he could think of at that moment was feeling Scott inside him. The need to receive his offering was almost as powerful as the need to see him beg. He was lost to the man in his arms, so deeply in love that it continued to scare the crap out of him at times like this. "I love you, babe,” he said, stating the obvious, hoping it would explain everything. Robin slid out of bed to use the bathroom. He needed to take a leak as well as clean up. He got a washcloth, soaked it with hot water, and rubbed the dried semen from his chest, stomach, and between his ass cheeks. He reached for a fresh cloth and brought it back to the bedroom, where he ministered to his partner, who purred the entire time. "I need to pee,” Scott mumbled. "Go, love,” Robin answered, moving to let Scott by. He must have dozed off, because the next thing he

became aware of was soft, tender kisses interspersed with words of love. The kisses became deeper as Robin reacted, the strength of their chemistry a living, breathing thing that hadn't diminished one iota since their first meeting. Robin felt Scott's cock pressing hard against his own, smelled the pungent odor of their arousal as the pheromones kicked in. His need exuded out of him as surely as the light film of sweat covering his body. It was warm in the bedroom, made warmer by the internal combustion that burned deep inside of him. They were hard again, lying cock-to-cock, rubbing against each other, slippery with want. "Fuck me,” Scott pulled at Robin, spreading his legs wide, so Robin now lay prone on him with elbows on either side of his head. "Kiss me,” Robin growled. The kisses grew more demanding, while tongues wrestled for control. Hands clawed at skin, and bodies shifted position to accommodate each other. Robin grabbed the lube off the nightstand and spread a liberal amount around Scott, slipping in a

couple of fingers past the tight muscle to prepare him further, all the while sucking up the tender skin around Scott's ear, marking him repeatedly. He was about to reach for the condom when Scott held his hand and shook his head. “I want to feel you, Red." Robin stopped for a nanosecond and stared into Scott's eyes. “You sure?" "Positive." He pushed into his partner, unable to stop this even if he wanted to, the need to dominate and possess far greater than anything else. "Master,” Scott sighed as Robin breached him. "Mine.” The word came out strangled as the emotion kicked in, so Robin stopped thinking and started to move, tilting his hips and pumping into Scott's narrow passage, filling him. They were a perfect match, so in tune with each other that there was no need to say more. Their bodies told the story of their love, responding to

every thrust and moan joyfully. Scott's words broke through the silence. “I'm close, Red." Robin shot into him, pouring out his love in a steady stream. He felt Scott seize him, felt his lover's body grappling with the force of his own fierce climax as he came all over Robin's chest and neck. **** Much later, while Scott lay sleeping in his arms, Robin stared out into the dark, a little disappointed that he couldn't relax despite the outstanding sex. As usual, his mind leaped back to the last four months and the changes that had occurred. Leaving Ron Morris had been one of the most satisfying moments of his life. His former employer and owner of the periodontal practice that Scott had hoped to buy had made their lives miserable with his homophobic beliefs and the need for subterfuge. It had come to a head when Ron walked in on them having sex. Granted, it hadn't been one

of their finer moments, but satisfying a fantasy had taken precedence over common sense. The fallout had been swift. Robin quit his job seconds before Ron fired him, and Scott walked out a few days later, just as Ron terminated their contract. Scott had been decisive after that, easing some of Robin's fears and niggling doubts with his positive attitude. He'd worried that Scott's decision wasn't thought out and that he would regret walking away. He knew how much Scott had wanted to see the agreement come to its logical conclusion, but he'd embraced the new partnership with gusto. They'd moved quickly, lining up real estate agents and office planners. Financing had fallen into their laps when Susie, Scott's best friend and independently wealthy assistant, had come forward and offered to bankroll them, buying into the business and making it a limited partnership. Now all three of them owned a piece of the small periodontal practice they'd opened in the Mission district, neighboring the Castro area. Close enough to the former office, yet miles away from Ron's rigid

Promise Keepers mentality. Robin shivered unexpectedly. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself that all was right in their small world, he was uneasy. The specter of Ron loomed large, despite the distance they'd put between them. Money was also on his mind, a constant worry that had permeated his life for as long as he could remember. Growing up with a single parent had given him a healthy respect for the almighty dollar that Scott and Susie didn't seem to share. They never looked at the price tag when they picked out the state-of-the-art equipment and hired interior designers, while Robin stressed over the bottom line. Even though he had more money than ever before and his future was firmly in place, the years of struggling and making the most of what little he had left an impression that he couldn't wave away. He would always be poor, no matter how rich he became. It was a fact he acknowledged about himself, a chink in his armor that he covered brilliantly.

Scott stirred and repositioned himself, spooning up to Robin and using him like a king-size pillow. “Love you, Red,” he mumbled, reassuring Robin even in his sleep. Robin responded with a caress, finally shrugging off all his worries and accepting the sweet release of sleep. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Two Ron Morris sat at his desk and stared at the stack of bills that reminded him once again that life had thrown him a curveball this late in the game. He should have been planning his retirement party. Instead, he was faced with the task of finding another prospective buyer for his practice and suffering through one more year of doing something he no longer wanted to do. All the money and time he'd invested in Scott had been lost in the wake of his discovery that he was gay. He still had a hard time believing that such a good-looking young man would rather suck dick than marry and have a family. How could he? Of course, it was that fucking hygienist who'd coerced him. And the city they lived in didn't help either. Everywhere he looked, it was gay rights this and queer fundraiser that! Heterosexuals were now a minority, and God forbid he said one negative thing about the gays! People would call him a politically incorrect, narrow-minded bigot. Well, fuck that! The

Bible said it clearly: man shall not lie with man. Case closed. He picked up the phone and dialed his financial planner. "Cliff. Hey, it's Ron Morris. How's it going, buddy?" Ron paused to hear his friend of over twenty-five years recite his latest medical woes. This time it was prostate cancer. "That's too bad, Cliff. Are you going to have surgery?" Ron listened with half an ear, worrying about his own health suddenly. He was still pretty fit for a guy closer to sixty-five than sixty, and he could even get it up on occasion, so he should have been happy. Compared to a lot of his compatriots, who were either dead or dying, he was rather well off. If he didn't have money to worry about, he'd have no worries at all. However, money was a problem and the reason for this phone call. He interrupted Cliff, who'd gone into a dissertation on chemotherapy,

and asked him how bad his financial situation was. "Well, things could be better. You've spent a lot of money on Scott, what with the advertising, changes in stationery and uniforms, and all the new equipment you ordered so that he could do the implant surgeries. On the other hand, he brought in a lot of new patients and just as much money, Ron. What happened there, anyhow? I thought you two were getting along?" "He's a big fruit, Cliff. I just couldn't have him around me." "You do realize that since you were the one who broke the contract, he's not liable to pay anything back." "That's fucking bullshit! Whose idea was that?" "It's a pretty standard contract, Ron. You'll have to ask the lawyers, but I doubt you'll ever see any refunds. Won't you reconsider your position? After all, we do live in San Francisco. Christ, they're talking about legalizing same-sex marriage in this

state. You're being unreasonable, don't you think?" "You know, it's people like you who allow this shit to happen,” Ron blustered into the receiver. “You don't care enough to take a stand. Well, I do care! I don't want them to be able to get married and start families with a fucking pseudo-mom to carry their babies! It's wrong!" "Ron, you need to calm down." "Sorry. It just pisses me off when they try and get all ‘normal’ and shit. They are a fucking abomination in the eyes of the Lord." Cliff sighed heavily. “I know what you think, Ron. We all do." "So find me another fucking dentist—someone who likes pussy!" "I don't think I can put that in the want ad, Ron,” Cliff tried joking with his friend, who was in a horrible mood.

"Cliff, don't get cute on me, buddy. Find me some other sucker who'll want to live in San Francisco and buy into my practice. I'm ready to walk away from all of this. I promised Julie a trip to Europe." "I'll do what I can. Who found Scott for you?" "I don't remember." "Think about it. Whoever found him did a pretty good job. You told me yourself that he was an outstanding periodontist." "It doesn't take away from the fact that he's a homo." "Ron, honestly, what's one got to do with the other?" "A lot! I don't want him around me. Period." Cliff sighed again, realizing the futility of the discussion. “Give me a few days to investigate this, let me see what I can come up with." "Okay.” Ron hung up, feeling even worse than when

he'd placed the call. He picked up the phone again and asked the receptionist to find Jenna and get her into his office. "You need something?” Jenna asked. She took one look at Ron and knew this wasn't going to be a good conversation. After being his assistant for so long, she could read him like a book. "Yeah,” Ron replied, hoping she had the answer. “Where did Scott come from? Do you remember?" "What do you mean?” Jenna feigned disinterest, but the thumping against her ribcage said otherwise. She'd been avoiding this question for as long as she could remember, and now here it was without any warning. "I mean, how did we find out he even existed? Cliff doesn't remember referring him, and I seem to recall you shoving his resume under my nose and telling me to look at it. Did the lawyers send you his paperwork?" "I don't remember, Ron.” Of course I remember. He

wouldn't have been here if not for me "Think on it, will you? It's kind of important." "Why?" "Because I need to find someone to replace him, that's why. And maybe the same people who found him can find someone else who's suitable." "Scott was perfect for this practice,” Jenna said, knowing she was overstepping but forging ahead anyhow. “Why don't you call him and tell him you've reconsidered?" "No! What's up with you people?” Ron looked at Jenna in disgust, waiting for her answer. When he got no reply, he stood up, moved away from his desk, and got right in her face. “Doesn't it bother you that he's gay? Christ, he could have AIDS for all we know!" "I think that's highly unlikely,” Jenna bristled, stepping back.

"Why? You think that just because you like him and think he's so great, he's not capable of getting sick? He fucks men, Jenna!" "Scott is a very intelligent man. I'm sure he practices safe sex." "Oh, gross! Don't even discuss his sex life." "You brought it up,” Jenna spat out, disgusted with the entire conversation. "Just find out who recommended him and get them on the phone. I need another dentist in here ASAP." "You'll never find anyone as good,” Jenna mumbled on her way out of the room. She could feel Ron's disapproving glare burning through her back as she made her way down the hall. When had the man become so self-righteous? He'd been much more relaxed and easygoing years ago when she'd first met him, which was what had attracted her in the first place. That and the daily smile that transformed his face from strict

professional to movie star-pretty in a matter of seconds. She used to think he was the most attractive man in the world, a replica of a young Jimmy Stewart, with the same down-to-earth qualities. He was all male, which was so appealing to her seventeen-year-old convent-bred heart. He talked about fishing, hunting, and sports as he taught her to assist him at the chair and learn the basics of running the small dental practice. He was patient and kind, while she was shy and inexperienced, the perfect recipe for a relationship to go a step further than it should. Jenna walked into the sterilization lab and drew on the thick, green latex gloves, hoping the mindless act of scrubbing dental instruments would distract her. She could feel her anxiety starting already; the shortness of breath and trembling in her limbs were a sure sign of a panic attack about to happen. She ripped off one of the gloves and dug into her pocket for the pill she'd placed there earlier today, just in case. She dry-swallowed the Valium and closed her eyes, willing herself to calm down. The panic attacks had become more frequent since

The panic attacks had become more frequent since Scott's departure. All her plans had been destroyed when Ron had discovered Scott and Robin were gay. Who knew? She certainly had had no idea and was just as shocked as Ron, but their sexual orientation had no bearing on their capabilities as dental professionals. She'd tried to convince Ron that he was making a mistake by letting them go, but he'd gone off on his tirade about gay men destroying the sanctity of marriage, and she'd known it was hopeless. The intercom buzzed, and she picked up, knowing even before answering that it would be Ron again, demanding to know if she'd found out anything. "Did you get the information I need?" "Not yet,” she answered. And you'll never find out

how he got here, if I have any say "Will you get on this, Jenna? Time is of the essence here."

Why? Does he actually think someone will drop into his lap the way Scott did? If it weren't for all her

machinations, Scott would have never gotten wind of the offer. Hiring the lawyer to pass along the information that Ron was in the market for a new associate was one of her more brilliant ideas. Placing Scott's resume on the top of the pile was another. It didn't take much to convince Ron that Scott was the perfect candidate. But Ron had fucked it up anyhow with his stupid, narrow-minded way of thinking. She'd hoped that Ron's need for money would overshadow this one flaw in an otherwise perfect candidate, but she had been wrong. Despite her best intentions, she'd failed them both, and every time she was confronted with the reality of her present situation, she'd spiral into a morass of guilt and remorse; inevitably the tears would follow. Jenna's phone buzzed against her hip, and she pulled it out of her pocket. It was her father. "Papa, I'll be home soon." "Are you going to work late again?” David asked in his most patient tone of voice. He really wasn't

demanding or intrusive, but he did grumble when it came to her hours. He was a creature of habit and liked to have his meals at the same time each day. "I know it's late, Papa. I'm sorry. I'll leave in a few minutes." "Jenna,” he sighed, “you always put him ahead of anyone else, including your own family." "It's not like that, Papa,” Jenna protested, even though she knew he was right. Her father had gotten more vocal in his criticism of her work habits now that he no longer had her mother to focus on. She'd died of cancer two years ago, and David was just starting to come out of the fog of grief that had shrouded him for the last twenty-four months. With that awakening had come an awareness of how barren his daughter's life was. He'd ask her constantly why she sat at home on weekends instead of going out with friends. How could she tell him that she had no one and nothing but her work? How would he ever understand that she'd wasted her entire life loving a man who didn't love her back? Would he ever forgive her for decisions she

had made years ago that were now haunting her every waking moment? No. He never would, so she said nothing. "I'll be home very soon, Papa, and I'll pick up something on the way. Do you want Chinese or Thai food?" "Neither, sweetheart. I have this craving for Sheppard's pie like Mama used to make." "I'll see what I can do,” Jenna replied. “Why don't you take Bruno for a nice long walk? I should be home by the time you return." "That's exactly what I was planning on doing,” David agreed. He and his chocolate Lab were inseparable. At least they needed her, Jenna thought as she disconnected the phone. She couldn't imagine what her life would be like without David to care for. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Three Robin held Scott's hand loosely in his as they walked along the shores of Lake Tahoe. It was the last day of their vacation, and they were determined to squeeze every remaining second out of it. Staying on the north shore had been a much better idea than putting up with the crowds on the south side, where most of the casinos were located. Incline Village was more private, since it only had a few casinos in the vicinity. Most of the people who stayed there were homeowners from the surrounding Bay Area; they liked to escape for a few days of golf, swimming, or hiking. In the winter the skiing was outstanding, and the quaint alpine atmosphere added a certain allure that appealed to families and couples who enjoyed a quieter atmosphere. "I'd love to buy something here someday,” Scott said, looking out at the horizon. They had stopped for a few minutes and were sitting on a log, throwing pebbles into the water.

"It's really beautiful,” Robin said. “Would you prefer a house or a condo?" "Probably a condo, so we wouldn't have to fuss with the upkeep as much." "It would be nice to get away more often. I'd love to learn how to ski or snowboard,” Robin continued, draping his arm over Scott's shoulder. “Do you ski, baby?" "Are you kidding? I grew up in Michigan. The winters are very long and very cold, so yeah, I ski, but I prefer to snowboard." "I never had a chance, even though San Ramon isn't that far from Lake Tahoe. We never had enough money for that sort of thing." "You're not too old to learn,” Scott said, smiling at his Dom. "I know,” Robin grinned. “I'm not even thirty, love."

"Maybe we'll have enough money to do it next year,” Scott said, frowning a little when he thought about the challenges he would be facing since breaking his contract to buy into Ron Morris's practice. He would have been set and making a very decent income, if Ron hadn't turned out to be the biggest prick alive. He was a hateful man and made Scott's adoptive parents look like the most liberal couple in the world. Even though they did have a few issues with his homosexuality, they weren't zealots about it, unlike Ron, who was determined to keep all gays out of the mainstream. It was a losing battle, for sure, but one he still hoped to win. "Hey,” Robin said, shaking him out of his thoughts. “Why so quiet? Are you worrying about that asshole again?" "I can't help it, Red. It's going to be interesting to see what he does when I attend the next meeting of the perio society." "There's nothing he can do, babe. People will think he's a jerk for letting you go."

"People like Ron don't give a shit what anyone else thinks. He's so self-righteous he thinks God is on his side." "He's a nut case. I'm glad we're out of his reach." "Are we?” Scott asked, hoping Robin was right. "Babe, he can't touch you now. Your patients will follow you, and the contacts you've made in the last year will know how to find you. You think the younger guys will send Ron any patients? They know who was doing all the fancy stuff. I'll be surprised if Ron doesn't see a huge drop in his schedule." "Yeah,” Scott answered, buoyed by Robin's reply. His lover always knew how to assuage his fears, no matter how ridiculous they were. Robin had believed in him from the minute they met, and his presence in his life was a huge factor in giving him the confidence he needed to be on his own and feel that he would succeed. Susie was another person who believed in him and actually invested in the practice, a sure sign that she was confident he would make it without Ron Morris's name on the

door. "Can we talk about your apartment?” Scott asked. Robin took a deep breath and let out a sigh. “Do we have to?" "You know your lease is up in a month. There's no point in paying for two places when we're together every night." "But there is a point, love. If we were to live together, we'd be in the lifestyle 24/7." "How so?" "This last year has been a mental challenge, going from employee to lover to Dom on a daily basis. I think the only reason our relationship has survived is because I have my own space, and you have yours." "Our relationship has survived because we love each other,” Scott said, looking at the deep blue eyes that saw through all his layers.

Robin leaned in and kissed him deeply, pulling a groan out of Scott so easily. “I do love you,” Robin's voice was a husky caress, “and this is why I think it's a bad idea to move in together." "I wish you'd reconsider,” Scott said. "It would be different if we didn't work together." "But we've found our rhythm, haven't we?" "That's because we play on the weekends and not during the work week. I would expect you to be my sub as soon as we walked through the doors of our home. I need that, Scott." "And I need you to be my Dom. Robin, we can do this." "Baby, it can't be easy for you being my boss eight hours of the day and then turning around and letting me dominate you all night." "I'm not your boss,” Scott protested, “I'm your partner! You own a piece of the practice, just as

Susie and I do. Why won't you acknowledge that?" Robin shook his head and turned away. "Am I going to have to call your mother again and have another intervention?” Scott asked. Robin had protested when Scott had offered to make him a partner, feeling that the gesture was more symbolic than based on fact. He didn't have the kind of money Susie had, and he felt like an imposter, taking something he didn't deserve. He only acquiesced in the end, when Scott gave in and allowed him to take out a bank loan and make a monetary contribution, albeit a smaller one. That, plus the revenue he'd bring in as hygienist for the practice, was the only reason he agreed to have his name on the contract and on the door. They'd had several fights about it, both of them stubborn and unwilling to bend until Denise stepped in and set them straight. Denise Kennedy, Robin's mother and the calming voice of reason, had convinced her proud and sometimes unreasonable son that his sweat equity, along with some money,

was more than enough to make him a legitimate partner. "No, you don't need to call my mother." "I want to live together,” Scott persisted. "Do you have any idea what it would entail?" "Tell me." "I would expect you to become my sub as soon as we walked through the door of our house by shedding your clothes and getting rid of your daytime persona. Naked and kneeling at my feet is a vision I can easily get used to, love. A little evening discipline might be part of the plan, so you'd have to be available to me. How would you stay in the right mindset and then go to work the next day without being exhausted?" "I'm getting something out of this too." "Are you?"

"Yes,” Scott said, looking at Robin intently. His eyes sparkled like emeralds in the morning light, and Robin knew it wouldn't take much more than that pitiful gaze to change his mind. He couldn't resist Scott no matter how hard he tried. "What are you expecting, love?" "I expect my Dom to care for me, to push me to my limits and send me on erotic journeys that I've never experienced with anyone else. To dominate with a strong but loving hand, the way you've been doing all this time. Why should it change because we live together? I need to serve you as much as you need to dominate me." "Scott...." "Please, Sir, I'm begging,” Scott said, slipping off the log and getting down on his knees. His eyes were lowered respectfully, and he waited while Robin continued to wrestle with all the arguments in his head. Finally, Robin took a huge breath and made the leap.

"How can I resist such an impassioned plea?” he whispered, lifting Scott's face, soaking up his submission like a thirsty camel. “I hope we don't live to regret this." "Thank you, Master." "You're welcome, babe. Now come and sit beside me so we can work out the rules." "More rules?" "Where would we be without them?" "Yes, Sir." "I'd like to find another place. One we can call ours, not yours." "That sounds perfectly reasonable." "I want to live around the Castro area." "Why?” Scott asked. He had no objection, but he wanted to know why this was so important to Robin.

"We've been in hiding for almost an entire year, Scott. I'm tired of it. I want people in our community to know us, to know we're a couple, and that we're close by if they need us. I'd like to make some new friends, go out, and do a public scene occasionally." "I didn't realize you felt like you were in prison,” Scott said in a wooden voice. "Don't get all drama queen on me,” Robin stated. “I loved every bit of our time together while we were in hiding, but it's a new era for us, babe. It's time we spread our wings a little bit. Aren't you fucking sick of being in the closet?" "Yes. It'll be nice not looking over my shoulder every minute." "Exactly,” Robin acknowledged. “Let's find something big enough so that we can have our own space within the confines of our home. That way, you and I can retreat to our corners if we ever feel the need." "You really are expecting the worst, aren't you?"

"No,” Robin countered, “I'm just making sure that the worst doesn't happen. After all we've been through, I'd hate to lose you because I don't cap the toothpaste." Scott let out the breath he'd been holding and leaned into Robin. “You sure are silly sometimes, and I say that with all due respect, Master, Sir." Robin kissed him, savoring every bit of his sub. He bit his lower lip at the end of the kiss, seeking the moan that always made his cock twitch, and Scott reacted right on cue. “Fuck, Sir, stop that or I'll do something very disrespectful." "Yeah? Like what?” Robin asked, pulling Scott off the log with him and landing on the warm sand that cushioned their fall. He rolled over and pinned Scott down, resting his entire body on his sub. “You think you can talk to me like that and not pay?" "Master...." "You think you can make me crazy with your

moaning and get away without some loving swats to your sexy ass?" "Do it, Sir." Robin lifted his head quickly and looked around, pleased when he realized they were the only ones on the beach. It was very early in the morning, and most people were still in bed. He began to fumble with Scott's pants, pulling them down his body, aroused even further after finding nothing between Scott and his jeans, a habit of his that never failed to get Robin hot and bothered. "You are such a slutty boy,” Robin growled, feeling his own cock swell and press against his shorts. "Your boy, Sir." "Fuck, yeah,” Robin acknowledged, sitting up and pulling Scott over his lap. He hit him on the ass with an open hand, loving the feel of the smooth flesh and the sounds that came out of Scott's throat. He hit him again, and one more time after that, feeling Scott's hard cock pressing on his leg. He began to

knead the succulent pink flesh with a strong hand, enjoying the sight of Scott rutting against his leg. “You think you deserve to come, boy?" "Oh God... please, let me." "What do I get in the bargain?" "You can fuck your boy, Sir, hard and fast, right here." "Come for me, love,” Robin charged, incensed by Scott's words. He felt the warm spunk splashing on his leg as Scott came in a stuttering mess, groaning loudly. "Master... fuck, that feels so good,” Scott's words no sooner escaped his lips than Robin was moving and repositioning himself. "On your hands and knees, boy,” he ordered, yanking his pants down and freeing his erection, which bobbed skyward quite nicely. He smeared some of Scott's spunk over his cock, positioned the swollen head outside the pink, puckered hole, and

shoved in without preamble, hearing Scott huff out a breath as he thrust. "Fuck,” Robin muttered, relishing the freedom of fucking his boy without a condom. It was so much more intense without barriers. Plus, being out in the open made the whole experience new and exciting. He felt his orgasm moving in swiftly, wrapping itself around his cock like teasing fingers that tantalized, making him ache with need. Soon the walls tightened even further as Scott came closer to his second orgasm, and they came simultaneously as he shot streams of heat into his lover with a loud roar that startled the seagulls, sending them all flapping into the air. Scott huffed out a laugh when it happened, and they both collapsed, knowing that there would be hell to pay when it came time to pick out the bits of sand from their sticky bodies. “I sure hope I don't get sand up my cock,” Scott mumbled as he laid facing down, covering his groin with both hands to avoid the possibility. "If you do, it'll be so worth it,” Robin said in a voice

oozing satisfaction. “God, you have got the most beautiful fucking ass,” he added, moving off Scott and swatting him one last time for good measure. "Ow,” Scott said, wiggling his butt and thrusting upward. “Thank you, Sir, I think." [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Four The flogger came down swiftly, making a soft thud as it kissed the man's back. He flinched but remained silent, taking his blows with grace. He was one of Anya's regulars, a sub she'd been working with for several months and one she was thinking of claiming as her own. Susie watched from the back of the room, observing the session as dispassionately as possible. She was here to learn, to watch Anya put the man through the paces—with his permission, of course. They were in one of the playrooms at the club in San Mateo, where Anya performed on a nightly basis. The man was tethered to the St. Andrew's cross, naked, his back and buttocks a brilliant pink from the flogging. His cock was semierect, imprisoned by the black cage Anya had placed on him before the session. He finally cracked with this last blow and started to beg, pleading for release and a chance to come.

His words were like a lover's caress, arousing Susie instantly. She felt a tingling at the base of her stomach and the rush of wet heat in between her legs. She knew that she would climax without much effort if she continued to watch this display. And apparently, Anya felt it as well, as she dropped the flogger and moved up to her sub, running her strong hands up and down his body, disengaging the shackles and laying him gently on the floor. “You've pleased me, gorgeous one,” her deep voice reverberated in the small room. She tore off her leather thong and tossed it aside before kneeling with his face in between her legs and whispering, “Worship me, slut boy." The man began lapping at her, picking up speed as she started to moan and grind against his face. Anya's head was tilted, her platinum blonde hair falling down her back like liquid silver, her strong thighs and ass moving in a slow, rhythmic dance as her sub serviced her with abandon. The couple on center stage was oblivious to all but their own pleasure, so Susie decided to join the party and slipped her hand under the leather thong that

covered her crotch, seeking her own release. She came in a second, almost at the same time that Anya let out a loud moan as she shuddered through her climax and her sub begged once more for release. Anya unhooked his chastity device and allowed him to jerk off, watching intently as he sprayed her legs with streams of white, which she then made him lick up. He was pathetically grateful, as meek and humble as a tamed puppy, singing her praises and saying “Thank you, Mistress” over and over again. When he was done cleaning every drop of semen from her legs, she put on her thong, kissed him gently on the mouth, and pushed him out of the room. Finally, she turned her focus on Susie, who hadn't moved from her spot on the sidelines. Anya observed that her trainee was looking quite satisfied, her hand still resting loosely between her thighs, her cheeks flushed. Susie was wearing a black bustier, and she overflowed it; her ample breasts looked enticing in the soft lights of the playroom. Her legs were encased in fishnet stockings, and she wore high heels in red patent

leather, the perfect accompaniment to the skimpy red leather thong. Her hair lay loose around her shoulders, and her eyelids were painted with black kohl, accentuating her lips, which were glossed a deep cherry color. "You look happy,” Anya commented, walking toward Susie. "You don't look so miserable either,” Susie grinned. “That was seriously intense! When can I start?" "I think one more session with me and a flogger and you'll be ready. Have you picked your name yet?" "Why can't they just call me Susie?" "It's not professional. Your life as a Domme shouldn't cross over to your normal life, unless you plan on living the lifestyle 24/7." "I can't. I have a job that I love." "Most of us do, my dear, so you need to pick your Domme name and use it while you're here. When

you walk out the door, you revert back to Susie." "Fine. You pick a name." "You're a beautiful girl, Susie. If I didn't like cock so much, I'd do you." "Good thing you aren't into muff, Anya, ‘cause I would hate to tell you to fuck off." Anya laughed, always delighted by Susie's frankness. She had proven to be a joy to work with: a natural Domme who'd learned the trade quickly. She had a great arm, strong and confident, never hesitating from the very beginning. She'd seen Susie inflicting some serious blows over the last few weeks, and she knew that this girl was more than ready to start her career as a pro Domme. Anya played with Susie's hair, moving it off her shoulders, running her hands lightly across Susie's breasts, watching as the pink nipples stood out in relief against the border of the bustier. "What are you doing?” Susie asked, a little worried

that Anya had gone lesbo on her. "Just thinking, sweetie. Don't get all weird on me." "Can't you think with your hands to yourself?" Anya huffed out that sexy sound that passed for a laugh and said, “What about Martell?" "Who?" "Your hair coloring reminds me of fine cognac, rich in brown and gold tones." "At least I don't remind you of cheap beer. I'd hate to be known as Missy Budweiser. Martell has a much nicer ring to it." "It sounds exotic and high class." "Okay. Martell it is. I think I'll buy a bottle on my way home to celebrate." "You need to get your wardrobe together, and we'll have a dress rehearsal tomorrow."

"I have most of my clothes. There is a pair of black lace-up boots that I was thinking of buying." "Do it. Subs get off on boots; at least most of mine do." "I noticed that you must have at least eight pairs." "What can I say? I have a shoe fetish." "It's too bad you can't wear them during the day,” Susie observed as they headed toward the staff room where several other Dommes were changing clothes. "I don't believe that paramedics need thigh-high boots to perform their job,” Anya drawled, “although I'm sure the doctors around me wouldn't mind a little bit of boot action." "No, I don't think that would go over real well in the medical world." "Don't kid yourself, lady. Some of my best clients are doctors,” Anya replied, stopping in front of her

locker. "Do tell." "You'll soon find out on your own." "So, how is this going to work?” Susie asked, leaning up against the wall, watching Anya change. She stripped unselfconsciously, discarding the trappings of her profession, leaving the pieces of leather in a small pile on the floor while she slipped on sweatpants and a T-shirt. She grabbed her hair and twisted it, securing it with a black lobster clip, and slipped her feet into a pair of Nikes. "Am I supposed to advertise for subs?” Susie questioned. "You'll be given a few clients in the beginning, and you'll handle the walk-ins. If you're good, you'll book up quickly.” Anya grabbed a tissue and wiped off her make-up. “There, I look normal, right?” She turned so Susie could see her face. "Not with those eyes, you don't,” she answered,

referring to the ice-blue eyes that made Anya look like the lovechild of a vampire and a ghost. “Your eyes are definitely creepy." "The better to pin them to the wall,” Anya said, reverting to her Domme voice. “My eyes scare the fuck out of people." "I believe it!" Anya threw all her leather pieces into the black duffel bag and reached for Susie's hand as they left through the back entrance of the club to the waiting car in the parking lot. She threw her stuff into the back of the small SUV and climbed in behind the wheel. "You hungry?” Anya asked as she strapped in. “Buckle up, will you?" Susie pulled on her seat belt and nodded. “Starving." "Let's get some Chinese on the way home."

"Sounds good." They headed toward San Francisco, stopping briefly at a small restaurant Anya frequented on a regular basis. It was a dive that stayed open after midnight, convenient for hungry cops, paramedics, and assorted night workers. Susie ran in and waited while they prepared the order of beef broccoli and fried rice. It was no longer than five minutes before they handed her the brown paper bag. When they got to her apartment, she asked Anya to come upstairs and have dinner with her. "You sure? It's late, and I know you have to be up early tomorrow." "Actually, I don't. Scott and Robin are up in Tahoe, and we aren't seeing patients until next week." "That's great! It'll give me a chance to get you ready that much sooner." Susie's apartment was on Elizabeth Street in Noe Valley. It was relatively closer to the new office than the downtown area, and she was pleased to

discover that she could actually walk to work instead of drive or take public transportation, a huge change considering all the driving she'd had to do in Chicago before moving to the Bay Area. She unlocked her front door and was greeted by a soft brush against her leg and the purring that was Simon's way of welcoming her home. “Hey, fur face!” She picked up the big Himalayan and rubbed her face against his neck, loving him. "That's one beautiful cat,” Anya remarked. “What's his name?" "This is Simon,” Susie beamed, petting the big cat, who looked at the stranger warily. He hissed softly when Anya made an attempt to reach for him. "Christ! He's a testy beast, isn't he?" "He's very territorial. It'll take him a while to warm up to you." "How very foolish,” Anya stated. “Most men fall at my feet instantly."

"Not my cat. He must be a Dom.” Susie laughed at her own joke, noticing that Anya didn't laugh back. “Come on,” she continued, pulling out plates and utensils, “let's eat." They sat and inhaled their food. Neither of them had eaten since lunch, so they kept chatting to a minimum. Anya ate the way she did everything else: methodically attacking each food group one at a time. Susie, on the other hand, liked to mix things. When their plates were finally wiped clean, she picked up the dishes, set them in the sink, and brought out two bottles of beer. “Let's move over to the sofa." "Okay,” Anya agreed, picking up the Heineken and taking a long swallow. They sat on the sectional in front of the stone gas fireplace. Susie lit the fake logs and relaxed as the flames brightened up the room. "How long was it before you slept with your first sub?” Susie asked. "Nothing like getting right to the point, huh?"

"I'm just curious, Anya. I used to think that Dommes had sex with every one of their clients until Robin set me straight." "Look, Susie, there are some of us who do. I'm just not into random fucking. I'm pretty choosy." "As I would be. I can't see having sex with every Tom, Dick, and Harry who wants to kiss my feet." "And that's your prerogative. You're only there to service a kink, but that does not include sex unless you want it to." "Do these men answer a questionnaire? How do we know what kind of kink we're dealing with?" "They have to answer one to join the club. It's required, but every application is kept strictly confidential. No one sees them except the owner and manager of the club." "So no names are used?" "We only use first names. It ensures a level of

privacy." "And these men understand we're not whores?" "Absolutely." "But they can get off on their own, right?" "Oh yeah." "You never answered me, Anya. How long?" "I think it was over three months before I met anyone I was interested in. Most of the men who come to the club aren't true subs. They're masochists and whiny mama's boys who need to be spanked. They get off on the whole idea of being dominated by a strong woman, but not really, if you know the difference." Susie leaned forward and put her bottle down on the table. “I'm trying to understand. Tell me more." "They like the accoutrements, the sexy Domme in her fancy boots and leather bustier. They pay the

money and enjoy the momentary pain or degradation, but they're not really into it. They go back to their wives, and nothing changes. We're just one more item in their mental slide show. They need us to get it up to fuck the old lady at home." "Like watching a live porn show." "Without the actual sex." "That's insulting." "It can be if you let it bother you. It's the real subs who make this all worthwhile." "How often do those come along?" "They're out there, don't kid yourself. It's just a question of patience, trial, and error." "And when it happens?" Anya turned her Dracula gaze on Susie and growled, “It's fucking magic!" "Really?” Susie sighed, leaping forward into a

fantasy future. She couldn't wait for it to happen to her. She had a vision of a man, one who'd been haunting her for years but had never materialized. Someone she could share that special moment with, the sub space that Robin had talked to her about. She had to believe he was out there, or the time she'd spent training to be a Domme would be worth nothing. "Will all the sessions be open to the public?" "No. Most of them are private. Our clients have a need for privacy, and we respect that." "What about that arena I saw the first night I met you? There were a lot of people watching your performance." "That was a public scene. We have those every night, but it's for people who don't care who's watching. Most of that audience is into the lifestyle 24/7, so they aren't worried about being spotted. Then there are those who are absolutely paranoid about their identity. Some of them will even wear a mask and only remove it in the safety of a room."

"Do we get a lot of big names?" "You'll soon find out. I think tomorrow we'll practice with the different paddles, go over the knife play one more time, and Wednesday I'll set you up with your first client." "You think I'm ready?" "Honey, you've been ready for years." The phone rang, and Susie picked up quickly, hoping it would be Scott or Robin. She knew their vacation was almost over, and they'd be getting back to reality soon. "Suz!” Robin's voice came on the line loud and clear. “How's San Francisco's most famous Dominatrix?" "Shut up, Robin. I'm nowhere near famous,” Susie giggled, delighted to hear his voice. He'd been extremely supportive of her quest to learn about her sexual proclivities, encouraging her to become a

Domme because he had understood from the beginning what she was looking for. "I have faith in you and your skills." "I'm almost ready, according to Anya." "Then I guess you are. She knows her stuff." "Are you guys all fucked out?" "Never,” Robin laughed. “There's no such thing in my book." "When are you going to be back in town?" "We'll head back tomorrow. Do you miss us?" "A little bit." "Aww, that's so sweet." "Oh, be quiet, Robin. Where's Scott?" "Right here,” Robin replied, passing the phone.

"Hey there." "Scotty! Are you enjoying your vacation?" "It's been pure torture, and I've loved every minute of it,” he chuckled. "Spoken like a true sub. I should be so lucky." "You've got to keep kissing those frogs, girl. One of them is bound to turn into a prince." "I've covered the entire swamp, Scott. Not a prince in sight." "Your time will come, don't be so impatient." "I'll try not to be." "Everything all set at the office?" "As set as we'll ever be. Now I just need my smoking-hot dentist and his gorgeous redhead." "We'll see you soon, Suz. Take care."

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Five They decided to stop in San Ramon to visit Denise on their way back to San Francisco. It had been several weeks since Robin had seen his mother, and he felt it was necessary to look in on her and see that she was well. Her health had never been the greatest, but she seemed to be in more pain lately, and he needed to see for himself that she was alright and not just paying him lip service over the phone every time he asked. The apartment complex was quiet this Sunday morning, and Scott waited patiently as Robin fumbled with the lock. He had his own set of keys and decided to use them instead of knocking, just in case she was still asleep. They'd made surprisingly good time coming down the mountain, and it was only nine thirty, so the odds of her still being in bed were pretty high. "Mama?” Robin called out, waiting for a response.

"In here,” Denise answered from the bedroom. They walked down the short hall, and Robin peeked into the room to see if she was decent before they invaded her space. “You dressed?" "I'm fine, sweetie, come in." The men walked in, and Robin went to his mother and kissed her on the cheek, noting that her skin felt warm and dry and her skin tone wasn't all that great. She was a natural redhead, like him, but a muted version, and even though she was only in her fifties, she seemed to have a lot more gray strands overshadowing the abundant red hair that hung in a loose braid over her right shoulder. "Scott, Robin, what a surprise!" "Nice to see you,” Scott replied, bending down and kissing his lover's mother. "Come sit and tell me about Tahoe,” she said warmly, scooting over and patting a spot on the bed. She had opened her arms to Scott the minute

she first laid eyes on him. Knowing Robin loved him made it that much easier to care for a man she considered the perfect match for her son. “Did you two have a wonderful time?" "We did. I even won money at the slots,” Robin answered animatedly. He sat across from Scott, and his blue eyes crinkled up as he spoke, infecting her with his enthusiasm as always. "Really? You don't like to gamble." "I know,” Robin smiled, showing off his perfectly white teeth. “We were on our way out the door when I saw this enormous slot machine near the exit, so I threw in a dollar, and lo and behold, the fucking bells went off. I won five hundred bucks, Ma!" Denise laughed and grabbed her son's hand and gave it a squeeze. “Good for you!" "I want you to keep half of it,” Robin said quickly, digging in his pocket and placing two hundred fifty dollars on the bed. “Buy yourself something pretty."

"Robin....” Denise was getting ready to protest when he shook his head. "Come on, Ma. It was a gift. I want to share it with you,” he responded quickly, knowing how proud she was. They were very similar that way, and he knew that if their roles were reversed, he'd feel strange about taking money from her. “Don't give me any grief over this. It's an unexpected boon." "Very well,” she acquiesced reluctantly. She turned toward the blond and said, “See, Scott. You bring my son luck." "Oh, I think it works both ways, Denise." She could tell that Scott was much more relaxed after the week's vacation. The last time she was with the couple, they'd been arguing about becoming partners in the dental practice. It had been a stressful time for them, but it passed, like she had known it would. Life was just a waiting game, in her opinion. You needed to be strong enough to tough it out, and eventually, the wheel would turn in your favor.

"Do you want to go to brunch?” Scott asked. "That would be so nice. Give me about half an hour to get ready." "Take your time." Denise nodded and turned to Robin, reaching out to toy with a lock of his hair. “You could use a haircut." "I know. Do you want to do it now or after we eat?" "I don't care, sweetie, whatever you want." "Let's go and eat first. I'm starved." "Of course you are,” Denise laughed, pulling the covers off the bed. She struggled as she got up, resting a second to gather her strength before heading toward the bathroom at the end of the hallway. Her limp was more pronounced, and although she would never say it, they could tell she was in pain as she hobbled out of the room. Denise had been born with severe scoliosis and had never had the proper medical care due to the lack of

funds. Yet, despite the odds, she'd had a child and a career as a registered nurse, two things she had been told that she could never have. "I hate to see her like this,” Robin frowned. "I know, Red. It hurts me too,” Scott agreed. “Has something changed that we don't know about?" "I don't know. She never complains." "We'll have to gang up on her during breakfast and make her tell us." "Okay,” Robin sighed. His mother had been his rock for years, and seeing her like this was worrisome and painful. She'd always been strong and selfsufficient, raising him entirely by herself without support from anyone. It was hard to see her deteriorate this way. Scott kissed him gently and then pressed his forehead against him, staying for a second. “It'll be okay, Red. Try not to worry."

"Thank you,” Robin acknowledged, grateful that Scott was in tune with his fears and loved his mother almost as much as he did. Thirty minutes later, they were on their way to The Magic Pan, a local restaurant that specialized in crepes of all kinds. The menu was huge, and Robin put his down after making a choice and said, “Who knew there were so many ways to cook a crepe?" "You mean stuff a crepe,” Scott corrected. "I guess so. What are you having?” Robin asked Denise. "I think I'll have a classic crepe with powdered sugar and a dribble of syrup." "You're no fun at all. Scott?" "I'll have a blintz." "What's that?" "The Jewish version of the French crepe."

"Huh?" "It's filled with cheese and is very tasty." "Have you all decided?” the waitress asked, licking her pencil with the tip of her tongue. "Yeah. I'll have the crepes filled with strawberries, whipped cream on top, and a side of bacon,” Robin said with a smile. "More coffee?" "Yes, please." She took down the rest of the orders, refilled their cups, grabbed the menus, and disappeared. "Are you gentlemen ready for the grand opening tomorrow?” Denise asked. "I don't know how grand it will be,” Scott replied, “but we're ready." "Have you a full schedule yet?"

"The last time I looked on the computer, I have two small surgeries and Robin has six hygiene patients. Not bad for a first day." "Give it time, boys. You'll be busy sooner than you think, and then you'll wish you had another vacation coming up." "I hope you're right,” Scott replied. Denise reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “Stop worrying." "He can't help it, Ma. He's a worrier." "You'll get old before your time, Scott. Not a good thing." "Speaking of worrying and getting old,” Robin interjected, “are you keeping something from us?" "Like what?" "Like, stop pretending everything is normal, Ma. Your limp is worse, and those frown lines are

starting to look like fissures." "I thought I was doing pretty damn good." "You can't fool me, lady." Denise let out a huge sigh and looked at Robin. “I don't want you to freak out." "Why?” He sat forward, clearly freaked. "They found a tumor in my spine, and it's pressing on a nerve." "What the fuck? When did that happen?" "I don't know, sweetie." "Can they remove it?” Scott asked gently. "They're going to try. I just need to figure out when I want to do this." "Do it as soon as possible, Ma." "Robin, it's not that simple. I'm going to need

complete bed rest for a few weeks and someone to help me. I'm not sure I want to do that." "Denise,” Scott interjected, “have the operation in San Francisco so you're closer to us. You can stay at our place while you recover." "Absolutely not!" "Why not?” Robin glared. “We'll hire a nurse, someone who can help you while we're not at home." "It's not fair to you. You have a full-time career, and you shouldn't have to be burdened with me after eight hours of work." "Oh, for fuck's sake, Ma. You know that I would go crazy if you weren't close by. I want to help, we both do,” Robin said, toning down his voice, hoping she'd see reason. "Your place isn't big enough, is it?" "We're moving in together,” Scott said, “so when we

start to look for a new place, we'll make sure it has a spare room for you." "When did you make that decision?” Denise asked, secretly delighted to see them taking another step toward a deeper commitment. "We just did. Scott twisted my arm.” Robin looked at Scott and winked. "I'm pretty sure that you were doing the twisting,” Denise said pointedly. "Ma!” Robin looked at his mother, taken aback by her statement. She'd known her son was gay since he was a teenager and had openly supported him. What they had never discussed was his role in the BDSM world. He was beginning to realize that somewhere along the way, she'd found out that he had a thing for whips and chains. “You're just full of surprises today, aren't you?" Denise shrugged and took a sip of her coffee. "So what have you decided?” Scott asked, hoping

she'd changed her mind. He knew that if she resisted the offer, Robin would be virtually useless and would have his head in San Ramon for the entire time she was recuperating. "I'd like to think about it and discuss this with my doctor. I'm not sure I want to have the surgery anywhere else, but I may give in on the aftercare." "I'll give you a few days, no more,” Robin said. “I'd like an answer by the middle of the week." "What's the rush?" "We're going to start looking for a new place, and this will make a difference in our choices." "See, that's so wrong! I don't want you changing your lifestyle for me." "Denise,” Scott said, “we were going house hunting even before we found out you were having surgery." "But were you planning on getting something so big?"

"As a matter of fact, we were. We wanted a place with extra rooms, so don't think this is all about you,” Robin assured her. "In that case, I'll stop feeling guilty about it. Now, can we enjoy our breakfast with no more talk about sickness and operations?" "We can,” Scott replied, “but only if you promise to act on this immediately. I'm sure that time is of the essence, and delaying a surgery will only worsen the prognosis." "Okay,” Denise agreed, grateful for their support. Robin reached under the table and grabbed Scott's hand and mouthed the words thank you [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Six Susie dropped her mascara wand for the second time in the past five minutes, letting her nerves get the best of her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd ever felt this way. Even the night she'd lost her virginity was nothing compared to this, which in essence was another first and a loss of innocence. Tonight she was making her debut as Mistress Martell. "Sue, why the case of the jitters?” Anya asked. She'd watched Susie get dressed and observed her fumbling. “You know exactly what to do, so there's no need to be flipping out." "What if I make a fool of myself, Anya? What if I turn into this big pile of girly shit and can't perform?" "You won't. As soon as you hear the begging, you'll react." "Promise?"

"Absolutely, girlfriend. Who are you working with tonight?” Anya asked, reaching for the index card on the dressing table. "I don't know. Some guy who's into schoolteachers. I'm supposed to whack him with a ruler instead of a paddle." "Oh yeah. It's messy Melvin. He's a piece of work." "Why?" "He starts to blubber while you're hitting him with the ruler, but he'll never safe word. A complete pain slut who likes to cry." "Jesus... what does he look like?" "An accountant." "Fabulous,” Susie answered, pulling back her shoulders and getting ready for her first scene. I can do this, she kept telling herself. This is what I've been practicing for. “Anything else I need to know?” she asked aloud.

"He'll beg you to have sex with him." "Tough shit." "He might. It'll depend on how deep he gets." "I don't think I can do it, Anya." "It's really your choice, Susie." "I know. I'll be happy if I can just keep it together and not make a fool of myself." "The granting or withholding of sex is a tool, Susie, just as much as a whip or a flogger." "I realize that, but I have to want him too, don't I? Just because he wants it doesn't mean it's going to happen." Anya stood and walked over to Susie. She wasn't in the scene tonight, so she was dressed in her paramedic cargos and T-shirt, without a stitch of make-up. She grabbed Susie by both arms and said, “Relax, hon. This is all about consensual. I

can't stress that enough. You have to do what feels right for you, and if withholding sex works tonight, then by all means, leave him wanting. Tomorrow you may decide on something else. The main thing is that you are in control, and you call the shots. So stop worrying, girl! You're going to be fine. After all, I trained you, and I'm the best!" Susie laughed, relieved to let go of the tension that seemed to coil around her like a bullwhip. “I need some of that ego tonight." "Hey, just channel me and you'll rock." Susie glanced in the mirror one last time, satisfied that she looked good. She was dressed in black from her outrageously expensive lace-up boots to the leather bustier that showed off every single curve. She'd opted to put her hair up tonight, leaving a few tendrils hanging down for effect. She wore red dangling earrings made of Venetian crystal; they sparkled and flashed as they caught the light when she turned her head. Her eyelids were darkened with gray eye shadow, and she had deep berry lipgloss slathered on her mouth, making her look

like every man's wet dream come true. “I look pretty hot, don't I?” she asked, turning away from the mirror and facing Anya. "Hon, Mistress Martell will knock ‘em flat on their asses, trust me." "I do,” Susie said sincerely. She had no reason not to. Anya had been nothing but generous with her knowledge. "Go, then,” Anya pushed her gently out the door. She walked down the hallway, her high heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest, and she felt lightheaded and close to passing out, but she put one foot in front of the other, determined to get her first night out of the way. If she could survive this, it would be a piece of cake. She pushed the door open and saw a mousylooking guy, who must have been in his early forties, looking at her as if he'd just seen an apparition from heaven.

"How dare you look in my eyes,” Susie spat out instantly. “On your knees!" "Mistress, I'm so sorry,” the man stuttered, falling to his knees immediately. His head was bowed, and Susie could see a small bald spot where his hair was thinning. "You should be, slut boy! You have no right to look anyone in the eye, especially me." "Forgive me, Mistress. I'm a piece of shit." "You are a bad boy and deserve nothing but my heavy hand." "Hit me, Mistress." "I'll hit you when I'm good and ready,” Susie replied, walking around her submissive slowly, taking her time to look over his body. He was already naked, demonstrating his eagerness to please, before even being asked to strip. Susie could see that he was becoming increasingly aroused with every harsh word that came out of her mouth.

"What's your safe word?" "Mango." "Let's get one thing straight, slut boy. You are not to come at all tonight." "Yes, Mistress." "To make sure that doesn't happen, I want you to get up, find a nice leather cock ring, and put it on." "Yes, Mistress." "And don't even think about looking at me while you're doing it." "Yes, Mistress." "Up, now!" He rose unsteadily, making every effort not to look her in the eye, but he couldn't stand not knowing who was issuing these commands that were making him as stiff as a bridegroom. He stole a

look from under lowered eyes, and Susie caught him. "You don't listen, do you?" "Forgive me, Mistress. I wanted to gaze on your beautiful face." "You will be punished for that." "I understand." "Get that cock ring immediately!" He did as he was told, and when it was locked on, effectively binding his cock and preventing him from having an orgasm, he sank to his knees once more. "I will not put up with this kind of insubordination. You have two choices, boy. You can kneel over the spanking bench, or I can have you on your hands and knees while you are being punished. Which would you prefer?" "The spanking bench, Mistress,” Melvin practically

sobbed out, his excitement at the breaking point. He was consumed with desire for this new mistress who obviously was much more demanding than his previous Domme. "Bend over, Melvin." "Yes, Mistress." "I'm going to smack you with this ruler six times, you bad, bad boy. Twice for daring to look me in the eye when I walked through the door, two more times for disobeying me and sneaking a peek, and the last two because I feel like it!" "Mistress,” he sobbed, “please... hit me now." "If I hear another word, I'll leave you in that cock ring for twenty-four hours. Is that clear?” Susie whispered, grabbing hold of Melvin's hair and pulling his head up off the bench. He nodded, inhaling deeply and trying to get into sub space as he waited for her punishment.

Susie stepped forward and raised her hand, bringing it down forcefully on his right ass cheek. The plastic ruler made a loud smacking noise and raised an angry welt almost immediately. She repeated the movement on his left cheek, satisfied when he groaned softly. She caressed his warmed skin, whispering, “Good boy,” before she stepped back. She noticed that his breathing had shifted, and the short pants of breath changed to deeper gulps of air. He had his eyes closed and seemed to be reaching for something deep inside, something she couldn't see but was present nonetheless. "You've done very well with the two smacks, Melvin. Now, here's two more for being such a bad, naughty boy and daring to look at my face.” She hit him quickly across both ass cheeks, each smack of the ruler eliciting a yelp before he settled again. Shortly after, the begging started. "Mistress, please let me come." "Don't ask, Melvin. I already gave you my answer." "I promise to be your good boy,” he replied, big, fat

tears rolling down his cheeks. "Silence!" "Yes, Mistress." Susie could see that he was painfully hard and nowhere near his safe word. He was loving every second of this, so she was determined to keep her word, and she hit him two more times for good measure, making sure the blows were sufficiently hard to mark him for a few days. He began to sob when she was done. "Good boy, Melvin,” she said, speaking to him in a soothing tone of voice as if he were the child of his fantasy, being a good little boy for his teacher. “You made your mistress very happy, Melvin. Keep this up and next time I'll let you come." "Yes, Mistress... thank you. You're so good to me." Susie stepped back and almost had a change of heart. She was about to tell him he could come, but she remembered Anya's advice, telling her never to

go back on whatever threat or promise she made in the beginning of a session. She had to stand firm so that he would trust her the next time. "I'm leaving the room, Melvin. When I go, you can remove the cock ring and put on your clothes. Do not attempt to jack off or come spontaneously, because I'll find out. Do you hear me?" "Yes, Mistress... thanks for tonight." "You're welcome, Melvin. You were a good boy, after all." "Mistress,” he sobbed, pressing his engorged cock against the leather spanking bench, seeking the relief he was being denied. "Next time, I'll let you adore me." "Yes, Mistress. Thank you. I will serve you anyway you ask." Susie stood tall, dropped the ruler on the table, and walked out of the room. As soon as the door closed,

another opened, and Anya came out of the observation room and hugged her. “Well done, lady. You've got him eating out of your hand." "Christ!" "What? You did great!" "I wanted to let him come so badly." "No, you were perfect. Next time he'll stand on his head if you ask him to." "Come on, Anya. I need a beer." "Okay.” Her friend looped her arm through Susie's and walked down the hallway with her. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Seven "Jenna!" "Yes?" "Where's the blue book?" "What book?" Ron rolled his eyes and said, “The perio book." "Oh... it's in the third drawer." "I've got to call my buddy in Chicago at the AAP. He may have someone in mind who's thinking of moving out here." Jenna let out an enormous sigh, which made Ron look up from his search and ask, “Now what?" "I just think it's a mistake." "I know what you think, Jenna, but it's my practice,

and I can't work with Scott." "Have you seen our schedule? It's empty." "It'll pick up again. In fact, when I go to the perio meeting, I'll put the word out that I'm looking for a new partner but I'm open for business." "I'm pretty sure everyone is aware of what's going on. It's just that Scott knows all the new procedures, and you don't." "Thanks for your vote of confidence!" "I'm stating the obvious, Ron. You're behind the times." "Well, this old dog isn't dead yet! I'll get those implant people to give me a crash course, and I'll start doing them myself." "No!" "Yes. How hard can it be?" "You saw how we got in trouble the last time. It

would have turned into a lawsuit if Scott hadn't bailed you out." "You worry too much, Jenna." "Someone's got to." "Speaking of worrying? I saw David's name on the schedule. What's wrong with your father?" "I think he's fractured a tooth. It's either that or an abscess; would you look at him, please?" "Of course. When was the last time he had any Xrays or a hygiene appointment?" "He's been a virtual recluse since my mom died." "Jen, that's almost two years ago." "He was a regular before that,” Jenna answered defensively. Her parents had always been conscientious about their dental care. It was only in the last few years that her father had let things slide. Ron nodded and stood to go outside. “Is he here

yet?" "Yes. He's already seated in room one." Ron walked down the hallway with Jenna trailing behind him. He stepped into the operatory and saw that Jenna's dad was holding his right cheek. "Morning, David. Are you in pain?" "Good morning, doctor. It was throbbing until I took an aspirin." "Uh-oh. Let's have a look, shall we?" **** Their first day had started on a high note when a huge floral arrangement was delivered to the office. Susie had exclaimed in delight when she opened the door and saw the messenger holding the big basket filled with the colorful assortment of spring flowers, a present from Denise Kennedy. "Your mom is the best,” she remarked to Robin as

she placed the arrangement in the waiting room. "That she is." "I'd love to meet her some day." "It'll happen sooner than you think,” Robin replied. “She's coming to stay with us for a few weeks after her surgery." "Us?" "Yeah, Scott and I are looking for a place." "Are you moving in together? "Yes." "That's great!” she replied, giving him a quick hug. They'd met less than a year ago, but she already felt as close to him as she did to Scott, whom she had known since their college days at Northwestern. “Tell me how it works, though, living with your sub. Isn't it difficult to be in a D/s relationship 24/7?" Robin had introduced Susie into the BDSM world

after seeing her struggle with failing relationships. She'd confessed her need to dominate and had been shocked to find out that he and Scott were into the scene. Shocked, but thrilled to discover that such a world existed. He had introduced her to Anya, who had offered to take Susie under her wing and teach her everything she knew. Robin had been keeping a close eye on her progress since then, so answering this question wasn't really a problem or an invasion of their privacy. “We're definitely not in the scene at work." "Yes, but when you leave here, what happens?" "This is a work in progress, hon. I have my ideas on how I'd like it to work, but it's all theory right now. Check in with me a few months down the road and I'll tell you." "Yeah, I'd love to know how it turns out." "Why? Have you met Mr. Right?" "Hardly. So far, I've met a whiny accountant who thinks he's fourteen and another guy who likes

blood." "You're doing knife play already? I'm impressed." "Considering the fact that I'm around scalpels and blood all day, why are you surprised?" "That's true. I should have guessed you were into that." "I'm not, really, but this guy is." "It takes all kinds, Susie. Give it some time, and you'll find the man you're looking for." "Well, I hope it happens soon. I'm not getting off with anyone right now." "Why not?” Robin asked in surprise. He hadn't been in love with any of his scene partners until Scott, but no one said you had to be in love to get off; you only needed to be turned on by the encounter. “Aren't you enjoying yourself?" "Yes and no. I love the anticipation when I walk in a

room. I love hearing them beg, I enjoy pushing them until they break. I just can't have sex with them." "You don't have to, obviously, but they must be getting something out of it, or they wouldn't come back for more." "Yeah, I let them hump my leg or jack off while I watch. They seem fine with it." "Eventually, you're going to break if you don't let yourself go with this all the way. You can't have an intense scene with someone and leave the room frustrated.” Robin frowned, concerned suddenly. He'd have to call Anya and get more information, but it sounded like Susie wasn't fully committed. She was dabbling, going through the motions, but not having sex with at least one of her boys wasn't a good sign. "Don't worry about me, Robin. I'll be fine." "I do worry, hon. I'd much rather deal with a wellfucked Susie than one who's strung out like Christmas lights."

"I'm not strung out, I promise. Now, let's get to work." The rest of the day passed in a flurry of activity. They still hadn't found anyone to man the phones or the front desk, so Susie was doing a little bit of everything. The phone stayed on the machine most of the day, with the three of them listening to messages in between patients. By four o'clock, they were exhausted, and Susie took off. Robin disengaged the phone after taking the last round of messages. He walked into Scott's office and handed him the sheet of paper he'd written them on, which got tossed aside. Scott swiveled his chair around and spread his legs to allow Robin to perch on the desk in front of him. He bent down to kiss Scott, taking the liberty to stick his hand underneath Scott's scrubs and tug on the nipple ring. Scott's moan was all the encouragement Robin needed to thrust his tongue in further, savoring his lover's taste. “Tired, baby?" "Yeah, but never too tired for this,” Scott said in a voice filled with need.

"The benefits of being your own boss,” Robin said, pulling Scott up and yanking his pants down, “is being able to service each other whenever we damn well please.” Robin's voice shifted to a low growl as soon as he laid eyes on his boy's swollen cock, free of all restraints as usual. "God, yes,” Scott sighed, hearing the drawer slide open. Robin slicked himself with the lube that was conveniently close at hand and turned Scott, whispering, “I'm going to fuck the tired out of you, love." "Please.” Scott spread his legs and draped himself over the desk. He put his head down on his arms, practically holding his breath as he waited for Robin to move. His knees almost buckled when he felt Robin's mouth on him, the soft, wet tongue lapping at his center, teasing and biting the tender skin, all the while making the sexy noises that drove Scott right to the brink. Robin's hands were everywhere, grabbing and squeezing, marking him as his nails dug into thighs that were lightly covered with golden hair. Robin changed position, moving a hand

toward Scott's distended cock, which leaked with need. He slid up Scott's backside and positioned his rigid cock just outside the puckered skin that was trembling with anticipation. "Are you my boy?” Robin asked, seconds away from impaling him. "Yes, your boy, Master... your slut boy.” Scott practically keened when Robin breached him forcefully, moving the desk forward a few inches. "God,” Robin's voice was hot in Scott's ear. “So fucking good!" Scott whimpered an incoherent reply, pushing back to try and get Robin in deeper. He cried out when Robin changed the angle and stabbed his prostate over and over, until the sensation bordered on painful, sending Scott off to someplace in his brain that only he knew about. Each thrust was followed by a long pull back as Robin made good on his promise to fuck the tired out of him. "You close, baby?"

"Yeah." "Come with me, now,” Robin urged, feeling Scott tighten up seconds before they exploded. His insides were turned to mush as Scott's body clutched him, each spasm milking his cock. He poured into him, leaving his mark with steady streams of heat, possessing him entirely. "Baby.” The word came out automatically—an endearment that Scott wasn't too crazy about, but Robin was attached to it. "Love you,” Scott sighed, deep into his space. “You're so good to me." "You're my boy.” Robin's reply was gruff. Scott was everything to him: his love, his submissive, and his partner at work. His entire life revolved around one person, and in the past, Robin would have been completely terrified by the thought, fearful of losing control, but now he knew that there was no loss, only gain.

They moved over to the sofa that had been purchased on the pretext that patients would need a place to recuperate after surgery. Susie and Scott knew better. They could see the gleam in Robin's eyes as he picked out the “perfect” sofa, his mind on the hours of pleasure he would enjoy by having it so close. "Didn't I tell you this was a great idea?" "What? The sofa or the fuck?" "Both,” Robin laughed, feeling all the tension leave his body. It had been a long day, but a very gratifying one. It was the first day that he was his own boss, and it felt great! Scott turned and nuzzled Robin's neck. “We should have had a shower installed as well. We reek." "It would have put us over our budget,” Robin said, practical as ever about their finances, “but a nice warm shower sounds really good right now." "Who's on the call list?” Scott asked, grabbing the

piece of paper off the floor. There was a small pile of papers that had fallen off the desk, victims of Robin's hand sweep before he had nailed Scott. "Did you see this?” Scott asked, waving the paper. "I took the messages off the phone. Of course I saw it." "What do you think Jenna wants?" "Who the fuck knows?” Robin snorted in disgust. He pushed away from the tight embrace and leaned up on one elbow. “Are you going to return the call?” he asked, staring into sparkling green eyes that reminded him of newly sprung grass. The green was so pure, without a speck of any other color to diminish the clarity. "May as well. If I don't, I'll be wondering all night." Robin shook his head in disapproval but grabbed the phone and made the call. He passed the phone to Scott as soon as it started to ring.

"Jenna?" Scott listened for a few minutes and then said, “Why me? You can take him to any other doctor. I'm not the only one who does implants." Robin rolled his eyes and raked his fingers through his tangled hair. "I didn't know, Jenna,” Scott continued. He listened to Jenna's reply, finally agreed, and hung up. He continued to hold the phone without moving, a puzzled look on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind and shut it again. "What was that all about?" "Her father needs an implant, and she wants me to do it." Robin moved forward and put his arms around Scott's torso, pulling him closer. “Why do you seem so disturbed by this?"

Scott stared at Robin's perplexed face and shook his head, trying to come to terms with this new revelation. "What is it, love?" "I had no idea the man was still alive." "Who?" "Jenna's father,” Scott replied, refraining from using the other word to describe the man. He still couldn't wrap his head around the information that Jenna had laid on him the last time he saw her. She'd dropped it like a bomb at his feet, and he was still sidestepping the entire conversation. Seeing them both would bring back memories of an evening he was trying to forget. "Fuck.” Robin's thoughts coincided with Scott's as the realization hit. “You want me to make excuses for you? You don't have to do this." "No,” Scott shook his head. “I'll have to deal with it eventually."

"I've got your back, love.” Robin's need to protect surfaced immediately. "I know." [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Eight "Why are we going to see Dr. Morris's ex-partner?” David asked. “If he didn't like him enough to keep him on, what makes you think I'll like him?" "He's a good doctor, Papa." "So why didn't it work out?” he persisted. They were in Jenna's car, driving to Scott's new office for the initial consultation. David was dressed in a pair of brand new khakis and a red Izod T-shirt that Jenna had bought recently because all his clothes were hanging on him. He'd lost at least twenty pounds since her mother's death; nonetheless, he looked good for a man in his early seventies. "Ron found out that Scott is gay,” Jenna said. She was sick of all the lies and hoped that by telling the truth this time, the future might have a better outcome. "I see."

"Is that a problem for you, Papa?" "I don't think so. Should it be?” he asked, looking a little confused. “What does it matter who this man sleeps with so long as he's a competent doctor and can fix my mouth?" Jenna wanted to scream with joy. “My point exactly." "Why did Dr. Morris have a problem with it?” Even though Jenna had worked for the man for over thirty years, David couldn't bring himself to call him Ron, even if Jenna did. He was the doctor and David was his patient. It was a generational thing, and despite Ron's urging that he should call him by his first name, he never did. "Papa, Ron is a complete homophobe." "I know that word, although I've never known anyone I could connect it to." "Well, connect it to Ron. He thinks that gays are the spawn of the devil."

David looked at his daughter and laughed. It was a strange sound, one Jenna hadn't heard in a long time. It came out of his throat like dirty water flowing from pipes that had rusted from disuse, but as the laughter continued, the voice became stronger and surer of itself, and soon Jenna joined him as the relief washed over her in refreshing waves. "Spawn of the devil, huh?” he choked out, reaching for his handkerchief and wiping his eyes. “Doesn't he know that homosexuality has been around since ancient times? This is nothing new." "Ron objects to them trying to get into the mainstream and fighting for equal rights to get married. He's convinced that their actions will destroy the sanctity of marriage." "Marriage is only as sacred as the people who are joined,” David said seriously. “Divorce has done more to destroy marriage than homosexuality ever will." "How do you figure?” Jenna asked, curious to hear

her father's views. This was the first time they'd ever broached this subject. "Young people don't try hard enough to make things work. A few problems send them running off to the lawyer, seeking release from an obligation that should, by all rights, be a lifetime commitment." "If that were the case, no one would marry, Papa." "That's not true, Jenna. People will always marry.” He sighed and turned his head to look out the window. “I wish you had,” he mumbled, hoping she wouldn't hear. She reached over and tapped him lightly on his arm. “I'm sorry I didn't." "Regret is a terrible thing to face at the end of your life." David's statement made her stomach churn. She'd have popped a Tums if she had one; instead, she took a deep breath, trying to wish the dark thoughts away. David had no way of knowing how regret was

playing such a big part in her life these days. It was the ghost of past decisions that haunted her in a big way, threatening to overtake her life. "Papa, please. No more sadness, okay?” Jenna requested more for herself than for him. He sighed loudly and looked out the window again. They approached the white building that Scott had chosen to house the new practice. Instead of waiting for the small elevator, which was occupied at the moment, they decided to climb the two flights of stairs. David kept up with Jenna easily. He was surprisingly fit due to the daily walks he took with Bruno. The Labrador was his constant companion, helping to keep David spry and conditioned enough to tackle the stairs without pausing to catch a breath. The little buzzer over the door went off when they walked in, and Susie appeared. "Jenna,” Susie nodded. “How's it going?"

"Just fine,” Jenna replied formally. The last time the two women had been together was at Scott's apartment, and that conversation had ended on such a bitter note. She was relieved to see that Susie was acting normally and didn't appear to be holding a grudge. “Susie, this is my father, David Zisman." Susie stretched out her hand. “It's nice to meet you, sir. Would you follow me, please?" "I'd like to be in on the consultation, if that's okay?” Jenna asked. "No problem.” Susie turned and headed down the hallway. By the time Scott stood at the entrance to the small room, David was already seated, bibbed, and ready for the exam. Scott paused and stared at him. He wanted to get a good look at the man who had unwittingly changed his life. His first choice was to turn around and walk away, but he put on his best doctor's voice and stepped toward the dental chair.

"Hello, my name is Scott Gregory." David looked at the young man who approached him and said, “How do you do?" "I understand you have a problem,” Scott continued. “Jenna, did you bring the X-ray?" Jenna handed him the small envelope, and he placed the single X-ray on the view box and said, “Your tooth is definitely fractured, sir. Are you in pain?" "A little bit, doctor, but nothing that an aspirin won't cure." "Let's have a look." David opened his mouth and allowed Scott to poke around; he had to determine if there were any other problems that needed to be dealt with. He put down the instruments and removed his gloves after about five minutes. “When was the last time you had your teeth cleaned, Mr. Zisman?"

"Just before my wife died, doc. I know I'm overdue." "We can take care of all your problems today, if you'd like. I have the time this morning, and we should really get that tooth out. We can talk about putting you on Robin's schedule for a cleaning in the future, that is, if you want to come here for that." "Who's Robin?" "He's our hygienist." "Jenna?” David turned toward his daughter. “Shouldn't I have my teeth cleaned at your office?" "Do it here, Papa. We haven't hired a hygienist yet, and who knows when that'll happen." "Well, I guess you have a new patient, Doctor,” David said seriously. Scott studied the man in front of him. David didn't really look his age due to a still-full head of hair, an important characteristic that had not escaped Scott's notice, and other than the fractured tooth

and the obvious need for a cleaning, David still had most of his teeth, another big plus. “Are you allergic to any medication?” Scott asked, trying to get his head back to the task at hand. "I don't think so." "That's good. Susie, let's anesthetize, and then I'll leave you for a few minutes to set up the room. We're going to remove the molar, David, and place an immediate implant." "So I won't be without a tooth?" "No, you'll still be without a tooth for a while, but the wait for a crown won't be as long. You should be able to get this restored in about six to eight weeks." "That's still a long time, Doc." "Well, you can't rush Mother Nature, David. It takes time for the bone to integrate with the implant. If we put a crown on it too soon, it'll fail, and we'll have to start all over again."

David peered at Scott the entire time he was talking, and he suddenly blurted, “Your eyes remind me of Vera." "Vera?" "Yes, my dear, departed wife,” David continued to explain. “I've never met anyone with eyes as green as hers, but yours are." "Oh.” Scott looked at Jenna quickly, and her cheeks turned bright red. She looked like she was going to faint. "I fell in love with her the minute I stared into those beautiful eyes,” David continued to reminisce. “They were clear green, just like yours." Scott blinked and stood abruptly. “I'll be back in a few minutes, okay? Then we'll get started." Robin saw Scott walk down the hall and head toward his office. He was in between patients, so he followed, and when he entered the small room, he found Scott standing near the window, looking

down on the street. He wrapped his arms around Scott and pulled him tightly up to his chest. “You okay, love?" "Just trying not to lose it, Red." "Has he said anything to upset you?" "Not on purpose. He did say that my eyes reminded him of his dead wife." "God, I hope not,” Robin teased, trying to lighten the mood. “That's a scary thought." "When she was alive, you dork,” Scott smiled. "I know, love,” Robin nuzzled his neck. “Yours are unique, though. I'm sure he's imagining this." "It just came out of left field, you know? We weren't even talking about her." "Huh. You must have really made an impression." "I've got to get back to him. We're doing an extraction and an immediate implant."

"Okay, I'll let you go, but a kiss first.” Robin lifted his chin and planted his mouth on Scott's. “I love you, babe.” His words were soft and reassuring. "I know, Red. Love you too." [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Nine "Do you like it?” Scott asked, anxious to hear Robin's reply. They had just finished a tour of the house they were thinking of buying, and the real estate agent had left them to explore, asking them to make sure to lock up after they were done. It was an old Victorian, more commonly known as a Painted Lady. It had been completely refurbished on the inside, but the outside still looked like something from a postcard. The wooden structure was painted in yellow, blue, and blood red, garish to some but quaint and charming to others. It was built in 1910, a few years after the great earthquake, and was two stories high. There was a graded garage and a finished basement that ran the length of the house, with a bedroom and full bathroom off to the side. It was perfect for a playroom, or dungeon, or whatever one living the BDSM lifestyle wanted to call it. The real estate agent referred to it as the “bonus room.” The

bonus, to Robin's way of thinking, was that soundproofing wouldn't be critical since it was deep in the bowels of the earth. The first floor was the central part of the house, with the kitchen, living, and dining rooms flowing into each other. Many of the usual walls had been knocked out to produce a modern, open feeling. The floors were Brazilian Cherry hardwood, while crown molding and twelve-foot ceilings lent an air of romance and charm to an otherwise clean, modern look, incongruous with the outward appearance of antiquity. Upstairs, there were three bedrooms with two baths, the master having its own and two smaller ones sharing a common bathroom. "It's beautiful, Scott, but we can't afford it." "Hey, we'll do it the American way. Go into hock, big time." Robin looked a little concerned with that answer. “Scott, we're already in hock with the practice. I'm hesitant to take on any more debt. Maybe we should stay where we're at for a while until the

practice starts to build." "Robin Kennedy,” Scott said, raising an eyebrow as he walked up to his beautiful Dom, “weren't you the one who told me to have faith and people would be banging down our doors?" "Yes, but I'm also the one in charge of finances, and the figures are freaking me out." "We're solvent, Red." "I know, and I'd like to keep it that way. I've always spent within my means, Scott. This is the first time I'm doing anything on credit, and I don't like it." "It won't be for long. You saw how fast we built up our bank account when the schedule was full. Now, enough talk about money." "Fine,” Robin gave in, enjoying the sight of Scott in tight blue jeans and a black T-shirt, looking quite predatory as he sauntered up to him. "Weren't you the one who insisted on buying

something close to the Castro area or thereabouts? ” Scott asked, now leaning into Robin. "Yup,” Robin purred as his desire mounted. He could feel the blood rushing to his groin, and his cock twitched in appreciation of Scott's warm body rubbing up against him. "And have I not fulfilled every one of your requirements so far?” Scott whispered into Robin's ear while he snaked both hands around Robin's slim waist and cupped his ass cheeks, rubbing them in ever widening circles. "Oh, not every one." "I was waiting for the agent to leave before I could fulfill this last one.” Scott turned Robin gently and pulled him into the kitchen. “Have you noticed the color scheme in this kitchen?” Scott asked innocently. “The beautiful granite countertops?" "No, why?” Robin replied, playing along. "Maybe if you got a little closer, you'd appreciate the

fine workmanship,” Scott said while he spun Robin around and sort of draped him over the kitchen counter. He made short order of Robin's clothing, stripping him bare from the waist down. Robin waited, secretly thrilled by Scott's attempt to top him. It was always a surprise when Scott took the initiative. There was never any rhyme or reason to the timing, so each incident was always like a first time. Scott whispered in his ear, “Spread your legs for me, Red." Robin shut his eyes and groaned, widening his stance. He still had problems letting go whenever Scott took the reins, but once it happened, it was amazing. He couldn't get enough of Scott's mouth on him, his warm tongue lapping around the soft puckered skin, sending bolts of lightning throughout his body. He loved the needy, wet, sucking noises Scott made as he feasted on him. It was a huge turn-on to know how much Scott wanted to please him. “God, that feels so good,” Robin hissed as Scott penetrated him with two fingers, sliding them

around to loosen him for easier access. "Like that, Red?" "Yes, don't stop.” God, don't ever stop! This was Scott his lover, not his submissive. This was the Scott who knew how to take control, the professional, the surgeon, the only man he'd ever allowed to top him, but it was also the same Scott who could switch in a minute and become everything Robin needed in a sub. "I've got to have you, Red." "Pocket.” Robin pointed at his jeans, referring to the little packet of lube he always carried. Scott fumbled around for the lube, giving Robin a few more minutes to get into the right mindset. He put his head down on his arms and watched Scott struggle to pull the packet out of his fallen jeans. Robin hoped to draw this out as long as possible, but Scott had other plans. He tugged on his zipper and shoved his pants down his thighs, releasing his throbbing cock. He began to slick himself with the

express purpose of putting on a show. He knew Robin enjoyed watching, so he took his time. Scott's smile was triumphant when he heard Robin groan, “Hurry, baby." He positioned himself, lining up against Robin's crack, teasing him by rubbing his slick cock back and forth against the puckered skin. “Ready?" Robin barely managed a nod, too caught up in the pleasure of the moment to give a coherent reply. He felt Scott thrust, felt his hands grip his hips and move him expertly so he hit Robin's prostrate on his first try. Robin bucked, forcing Scott to hold on with clenched fingers so he wouldn't slip out. He paused for a second, letting them both adjust. "Fucking hell,” Robin groaned as Scott resumed his movements, pushing in and out slowly, sending every nerve into orbit. Robin was on fire, gripped in the arms of his lover, who made no bones about wanting to hear him scream. Scott kept on saying, “Talk to me, Red, let me hear you,” as his hips swayed back and forth. He

withdrew his cock all the way out and then slammed it back in, the grunting and gasping sounds coming out of Robin's throat reverberating in the room. "Babe, I'm so close.” Robin felt like he was being split in half with each push, yet he never wanted it to end. He snaked a hand behind Scott, grabbing on to his ass cheek, trying to get him in as deep as possible. He pushed back to get more of him, he begged and pleaded to be fucked, wanting Scott to fill him, to breach, to invade, to plunder, and he knew he was babbling and acting completely subby, but he didn't give a shit. All he wanted was the burn and the delicious ripple of ecstasy that followed. Scott removed his right hand from Robin's hip, curling his warm fingers around Robin's shaft. "Oh hell,” Robin screamed, pushed over the edge, shooting ribbons of white cream over Scott's hand and the brand new kitchen floor. Scott didn't lose his momentum until his own orgasm burst forward, aided by the pulsing walls that gripped him in the aftermath of Robin's orgasm.

He collapsed on Robin's back, and they hung over the countertop, still joined in every way possible, breathing like two old guys in need of oxygen. “What the fuck, are you trying to kill me?” Robin huffed out. "Who, me?” Scott asked innocently, laughing gently. He moved away and slid to the floor very slowly, holding Robin the whole time. "God, I love you,” Robin sighed, too content to move despite the hardwood jabbing him in the hip. "I love you, too, more than anything." "I know, babe. I think we're buying this house, huh? We've already fucked up one room." Scott laughed, and Robin rolled away, stretching out as he felt the contentment settle on him comfortably. It had been a struggle for them, but he was confident that he and Scott had worked out most of their issues, and moving in together seemed like the inevitable end to their long journey. "Red?"

"What, love?" "Have you thought about the rules?" "Yes, I have. You want to discuss them now, while I'm in my post-orgasmic haze?" "Yeah,” Scott grinned. “I might get off easy." "Oh, now I see what you're all about.” Robin grinned back and tugged on the nipple ring he'd placed on Scott during a scene many months ago. Scott yelped and sat up, sitting cross-legged. “Okay, truce. No touching for now. Just tell me like it is." "Okay.” Robin sat up as well but scooted over and leaned on the cupboard close by. He crossed his legs and said, “There are two ways to play this. I'll give you a choice." "'Kay." "We can continue to save our D/s relationship for

the weekends, or we can bring it into the house and live it 24/7." "Which would you prefer?” Scott asked. "Let's talk about it,” Robin countered. “It could get exhausting for you." "How so?" "As soon as we walk out of our office and into this house, you become my sub. I'll expect you to switch almost immediately, and the first way of doing that is to shower and get naked. I don't want you to wear anything except a cock ring or whatever other choice piece of jewelry I decide to buy for you." "I have no problem with that, Red. But why is my being naked so important?" "Because I love your body, for one thing,” Red smiled. “It's also an outward sign of your submission. It'll ground you and remind you of what your position is in my life."

"Are you expecting me to be your slave?" "No! We both work too hard to be saddled with more chores here at home. It would be nice if we could get someone to come in once a week to do the major cleaning. You and I can fend for ourselves in the kitchen." "That's if you can stand breakfast for dinner more often than not,” Scott joked. "Maybe my mom can give us both lessons,” Robin teased. “We'll have a set time at night for some light discipline, keeping the heavier scenes for the weekend." "What about what we just had?” Scott asked shyly. “I'd like to be able to do this once in a while, you know, as lovers." "Oh baby. You know I'd be unhappy if we didn't.” Robin was touched by the sight of his blushing sub. “You know I love this as much as you do." "Shall we pick a night, or a signal, like we had

before?” Scott asked, encouraged by Robin's reply. “You know, when we did the whole chewing gum thing?" "Come here, love,” Robin said, pulling Scott close and practically sitting him on his lap. “We'll do the chewing gum thing. I love this part of our relationship as much as the other.” Robin remembered how often that pack of gum would show up whenever they needed time for being lovers, away from the D/s dynamic. It had been their signal from the first week. "Thank you,” Scott breathed against Robin's neck. “You don't know how relieved I am." "Why?" "I never know if you'll push me away when I get this urge." "Oh please! It's important to me that both our needs are being met, and if you feel the urge to top occasionally, by all means,” Robin said with a smile. “I fucking love it,” he growled into Scott's ear.

"I know you do, Red. You're just too proud to ask." "Doms don't ask, Scott. We command, and I would never command you to do that." "Well, in case you ever change your tactics, command all you want." "I doubt that will ever happen. Put a pack of gum somewhere so I can see it, and I'll do the same." "Okay,” Scott nodded. "So,” Robin said, “are we in agreement, then? Coworkers during the day, Dom/submissive the rest of the time, relegating all heavier scenes to the weekends. Lovers as needed, anytime, anywhere." "That sounds about right,” Scott agreed. “There is one last thing." "What?" "You mentioned public scenes when I first broached the subject of moving in together."

"What about it?" "Care to expand on that?" "Babe, you know I'm not a club guy." Scott nodded. “Neither am I." "I never liked being on display,” Robin continued, “but just like you need to top once in a while, I'll need to show you off occasionally. It just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside." Scott grinned. “Can we talk about that need as it arises?" "Sure." "Are you going to want another contract?" "Absolutely,” Robin replied. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Ten Susie stood in front of the full-length mirror, getting ready for a scene. She appraised herself critically, looking for signs of change. There were none outwardly, but her mindset had changed drastically since she'd embarked on this journey of selfdiscovery. The past six weeks had been all about learning how to become the perfect Dominatrix so she might find the man of her dreams. So far, her clientele had been disappointing in that respect. They were obedient and loved her, as evinced by her crowded appointment book, but they weren't what she was hoping for. None of them sparked her interest, and she had not allowed any of them to have sex with her, thus building a reputation as the untouchable ice queen. She picked up her card for the evening and sought out Anya, who knew everyone and could give her a heads-up on this new client. All she had was a first name: Adrian. The club only used first names to protect their clients, but most people lied

and used fake names anyhow. "So, tell me something about this guy.” She waved the card at Anya and waited for her reply. Anya took the card and glanced at the name. “Good luck with him,” she snorted. "Why's that?" "He claims he's a sub and wants the perfect mistress, but no one's been able to break him in six months. He's been through all of us." "Oh?” Susie was intrigued. “What's he like?" "Not much to look at,” Anya replied, “but he's got something." "What?" "It's hard to say, hon. He's got this steely look in his eyes, and even though he does everything you tell him to do, he hasn't come close to sub space." "And you've tried everything?"

"Pretty much." "What should I do, then?" "He likes hardcore domination. He's not looking for a mommy or a nanny-type setup. It's all about pushing him to the edge, so bring out the big guns." "Did you try knife play?" "Now that I didn't do." "Why not?" "Makes me queasy." "Anya!” Susie was surprised, since Anya was a paramedic, after all. “How could it make you queasy?" "I don't know,” she laughed, almost apologetically. “It just does." "You're funny."

"If you want to torture him with knives, be my guest." "Okay... meet me for a drink after work?" "Sure, hon. I'll see you in a few hours." Susie nodded and left the staff room. She walked down the hallway, listening to her heels clicking on the floor. She'd worn her new boots tonight, the thigh-high red ones with three-inch heels. Her black bustier and pants were one piece, not so common in this world, since the need to remove clothing in a jiffy was paramount. She had no problem with it, though; she had no intention of having sex with this guy. She was determined to break him. All she needed to goad her was the word “unbreakable,” and she wanted to rise to the challenge. She stepped into the room and saw a man standing beside the spanking bench. He was naked and had his head bowed. He never looked up when she walked in, only confirming he was a seasoned sub and knew his place. She looked at his body

dispassionately. He was fit, in an understated way. His washboard abs spoke of hours of discipline, as did his puffed-out chest, but he didn't appear to be a steroid freak. He had a very respectable cock, nestled amidst tight black curls, and it was responding to her presence with interest, swelling up slowly. His balls were large and covered with dark hair as well. There was something about this man that seemed vaguely familiar. "Good evening,” Susie finally spoke, keeping her voice just above a whisper. She stepped over to the cabinet housing her tools and pulled out a single strand whip. She picked a sjambok, a type of whip formerly made of rhinoceros hide, which had been replaced by rigid rubber, thanks to The Wildlife Society that protected the endangered animal. It could create some wicked welts while inflicting serious pain. Tonight was the first time she'd use it on a real person. "Mistress,” the man responded automatically. "On your knees, hands behind your head,” she said sharply, snapping the sjambok on the spanking

bench for effect. She walked around him, dragging the ends of the whip slowly over his back, slithering it back and forth across his shoulder blades. She noticed that his cock had increased in size quite dramatically since she walked in. "What are you hoping to find in your mistress, boy?” Susie bent and whispered in his ear, rubbing her breasts against the side of his face. He sighed and squirmed around on his knees. His breathing shifted, and she stepped back quickly. “Don't look up, boy! Keep your eyes down at all times. You're not fit to look at my face,” she said roughly, snapping the whip lightly on his ass. "Yes, Mistress.” His cock twitched. "Now, answer the question. What are you looking for?" "I need to be dominated, Mistress." "Do I have free rein?" "I have no hard limits, Mistress. I enjoy pain and

bondage equally." "I'm so glad to hear that,” she purred before lifting her hand and bringing the whip down swiftly on the man's ass, raising a second stripe. He moved a little but kept his display position, even though his breathing started to shift to short pants, and his cock was now fully erect, pointing up toward his stomach. Susie walked back to the cabinet and pulled out a cock ring. “Put this on,” she directed, handing him the metal ring. “And do it with your eyes lowered." "Yes, Mistress." "What is your safe word?" "I won't need it." Susie raised her hand and hit him hard on his thigh, causing him to suck in a quick breath. “You are being disrespectful, Adrian! When I ask you a question, I expect an immediate answer."

"I apologize." "So what is it?” Susie noticed that the cock ring was now firmly in place, and he was back in the display position with his hands clasped behind his neck. He really had a magnificent torso, she mused, wanting to give in to the urge to flick her tongue around the brown nubs that stood out in relief against the tanned skin, but she resisted. "It's ‘teddy',” he answered, sounding almost embarrassed to say it. "That's an unusual safe word." "I have no cause to use it in real life." "Why? Is it too soft for you, Adrian? Are you such a badass that the word ‘teddy’ would never cross your lips?” Susie had resumed her slow walk around him, dragging the whip over different parts of his body to watch his reaction. He seemed to respond to her words more than the actual whip. "It's not something I use in my line of work."

"Let me guess, you're in law enforcement." "Something like that." "A cop?" "No." She hit him hard across his other thigh, kissing his cock with the tip of the whip, taking him by surprise. He cried out and almost lifted his head, but she stopped him with a forceful, “Don't even think about it!" "Mistress?" "When I ask a question, I expect you to answer." "But I did." "You were not forthcoming. I don't have all night to play games with you, Adrian. What do you do in real life?" "I'm with the DEA, Mistress."

"I see.” And she did. She was up against someone who was not only a pain slut but a highly intelligent man to boot. Her interest level ratcheted up several notches. “Don't you see enough pain on a daily basis?" "I seem to have become immune to it, Mistress." "And you want me to help you feel again? Is that it?" "Yes, Mistress,” he said in a soft voice that held all kinds of hope. "You've been coming here a long time, but none of the other Dommes have had any success with you. Is it because you aren't submitting to their will? You're holding back, Adrian." "I don't feel I am, Mistress." "Oh, but you are,” Susie purred close to his ear. “You're closing everyone out, Adrian, keeping all your emotions tucked inside so that nothing can touch you."

"I suppose I am, and that's why I need your help, Mistress." "See a shrink, Adrian." "I don't need a shrink!” He was outraged, which had been her intention all along. "It seems you do, Adrian. You come here expecting us to beat you into feeling again, but you resist, watching this from the sidelines, praising yourself for not giving in. Isn't that what you're all about?" "No, Mistress." Susie snapped her hand and watched the whip raise another welt. She began to stripe him methodically behind each thigh, well aware of the strength of the sjambok. A part of her training had been experiencing all her tools, and the advice she'd received after enduring this particular whip was to use it sparingly and only with seasoned subs who were into pain. She could see Adrian clenching the muscles of his buttocks with each hit, but conversely, his cock had not softened one bit and

was actually oozing drops of moisture quite rapidly. "I have an assignment for you, Adrian." "Yes?" She lashed him across his back with a heavier hand this time. “Yes, what?" "Mistress Martell, please, I'm sorry." "You keep forgetting, boy." "Yes, Mistress. Forgive me." "You're going home with that cock ring firmly in place. You will only remove it to bathe. You will not touch yourself or try to get off until I see you next time. If you lie or give into your needs, don't bother to return. I'm not wasting another night on you." "Mistress, please." "Please, what?" "I need to come."

"Tough shit. You haven't earned it." "But, Mistress!” His voice rose in angry protest. “I expect to come with each session." "Not with me, you don't!” Susie said emphatically. “You have to submit to my will to receive the pleasure." "But I have submitted, Mistress Martell. I've allowed you to do anything you want." "You've allowed me?" "Yes, Mistress." "You don't allow, Adrian. You are my vessel to do with as I choose. If I want to slap you or cut you or tie you up, I will. Do you understand?" He was hyperventilating, more excited than she'd seen him since she walked through the door. She was trying to figure out which word had set him off: the slap or the cutting or even, possibly, the rope?

"Mistress, please." "No, Adrian. You will not come tonight, but I will throw you a bone to keep you focused on your task for the next few days." "Anything, I beg you." She slowly unzipped her one-piece outfit and stepped out of it. She left the thong but didn't bother to cover her breasts. She stood in front of him with her legs apart, her body fully exposed but for that tiny red leather strip covering her genitals. Her legs seemed to go on forever in the thigh-high boots, and she knew she looked gorgeous in the soft lighting designed specifically to bring out the best in anyone. “Lift your eyes, Adrian." He did, and the mutual shock of recognition in both their eyes would have been comical if it weren't so dramatic. "Jonathan!" "Susie,” he stuttered, completely blown away.

She spun around, picked up her garments, and walked out of the room. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Eleven What the fuck! How the hell had her meek and mild stockbroker turned into that irresistible, unbreakable man? Susie stormed into the staff room, ignoring the looks of the other ladies. She fumbled with her combination, got her locker open, and threw on a sweatshirt that was long enough to cover her upper thighs. She didn't bother taking off her boots to get her pants on; it would have been too timeconsuming. Right now, she wanted to talk to Anya and find out what the hell was going on. "Hey, girlfriend. You ready to go?” Anya strolled in, unaware of Susie's state of mind. "Yeah, let's get the hell out of here." Her tone of voice made Anya look twice. She nodded and walked out the door with Susie close on her heels. When they finally got in the car and

started the trip home, Susie said, “I thought everyone was screened before they were accepted at the club." "They are." "My sub is an imposter!" "What do you mean?" "I used to date the guy months ago. His name is Jonathan, not Adrian. He's a fucking stockbroker!" "How do you know Jonathan was his real name? Maybe he was posing as a stockbroker." "Oh. I never thought of that. Shit!" "Isn't Adrian some sort of cop?" "That's what he said. He's in drug enforcement, for God's sake. No wonder he's hard to crack!" "He's obviously had an effect on you,” Anya noted. “You're all worked up, girl."

"Yeah, I'm all worked up! I was really into this guy. He was challenging me like crazy, and I wanted to fuck him silly, but I held back." "Why the hell did you do that?" "Because I wanted to break him, but now that I know he's Jonathan, I can't see him again." "Of course you can. How long did you date?" "A couple of months, but I broke it off because he got all gooey on me." "You sound like a ball-buster." "Why?” Susie asked, looking surprised. “He wanted to hear me declare undying love, but I was looking for something different." "And now he's offering. Looks like you found your sub." "Oh, no, no, no.” Susie kept shaking her head. “It's not possible for me to think of him as Adrian. In my

head, he's still Jonathan." "Was he good in the sack?" "Very." "Hey, who cares what he calls himself? If he can get you off, go for it." "He never gave me any indication he was into the scene. Not once." "He probably didn't want to freak you out." "What the fuck, Anya. What am I going to do?" "How'd you leave it?" "I sent him home with a cock ring firmly in place." "You're evil." Susie smirked. “I wanted to give him something to look forward to." "So you have to see him again."

"I'm not sure I should, Anya. He made me lose control." "Get it back!" "How?" "We'll think of something.” Anya picked up her phone and hit a button. "Who are you calling?” Susie asked. "The club. Hey, Trixie, it's Anya. Did Adrian sign up for another session with Martell?" Susie watched Anya nod and disconnect. “He did." "No shit." "Yup. Obviously he wasn't put off by discovering you were his mistress." "Oh my God." "Chill out, lady. We just have to figure out what

you're going to do at the next session." Susie groaned and scooted down in her seat. “Jesus Christ." Susie's cell phone rang, the shrill noise making her jump. She reached into her purse and looked at caller ID. “Anya, it's him.” She looked at her friend in panic. “What the hell do I do?" "Don't answer it." Susie turned off the phone immediately and threw it back in her purse. “That's fucking great! He knows where I live, so since I didn't answer my phone, I'll find him on my doorstep." "He won't do that if he wants to keep coming to the club. They'll end his membership if he invades your privacy." "Well, that's some small consolation." Susie stopped worrying for the moment, confident that Adrian—Jonathan—would leave her alone for

now. She was still trying to get over the shock that the man she had dated shortly after arriving in San Francisco was the seasoned sub who had challenged her all night. She remembered when they first met at the club many months ago, the night she'd persuaded Scott to go dancing with her. She'd been attracted to Jonathan despite his deceptively ordinary appearance. His dark hair and brown eyes weren't what you would consider memorable, but he had a great body that he used quite well. He'd surprised her in bed, satisfying her in ways she hadn't expected. He was a considerate and creative lover, and she had felt good with him. They'd had a definite chemistry that kept her coming back for more, but he'd gone serious on her. He'd wanted a commitment she wasn't willing or able to give, so she pulled away. It was shortly after when Robin introduced her to BDSM. In all the time they'd been together, Jonathan had never shown a penchant for rough or kinky sex. He had great stamina from what she remembered, well able to match her libido, but he had never

able to match her libido, but he had never suggested anything remotely on the dark side. In fact, he appeared so ordinary, she had decided not to ask for any sort of bondage, which was something she routinely inflicted on her bed partners. Tying them up was a big turn-on for her, but she had not revealed that side of herself, worried that she'd freak out her “ordinary” bedmate. She shook her head when she thought about what had transpired. Who was this guy, really? Was he Adrian, the government agent, or was he Jonathan, the respectable stockbroker? Which one was looking for the perfect mistress? Adrian had acted like a seasoned sub, knowing what was expected of him. He'd been a wonderful challenge, and she had been excited for the first time since she'd embarked on this new career. He'd certainly pushed her buttons tonight, and she was looking forward to his reward as much as he was. Would it change because she knew he wasn't a stranger? Would it tarnish the entire D/s dynamic? She'd have to discuss this with Robin in the morning when her head was back on straight; tonight, she was all over the place.

She declined Anya's offer to stop for a drink and have a chat. She preferred to unwind by herself with Simon purring on her lap and the TV droning in the background. Anya didn't really know her that well, and she wasn't in the mood for a heart-to-heart talk. Not after tonight. Scott or Robin would be better options for walking her through this, as they both knew her, especially Scott. He'd be able to guide her, since he was the closest thing to a brother she'd ever had. She'd met Scott when they were students at Northwestern in Chicago, and they became close quite quickly, after she offered to be his beard during a tumultuous time in his life. His adoptive parents had a meltdown of sorts after he told them he was gay. They had been about to rescind their financial support when he brought Susie home, convinced them they were dating, and acknowledged that his foray into homosexuality was a momentary aberration. They believed him immediately, preferring the lies over the truth. After that, she and Scott had become fast friends,

doing most everything together. His interest in dentistry and science had propelled her in the same direction, leading her to this career as a dental assistant. They also shared a love for Latin men, a running joke between them whenever they entered a bar and set their sights on the same guy. Scott never judged her. He accepted her need to be with different men and only cautioned her to be safe. He never preached the rewards of marriage and monogamy, as he had his own issues to deal with as well. It was Robin who had zeroed in on her problem, guessing she had a Domme streak within, sensing a kindred spirit as soon as he got to know Susie better. It was his urging that had brought her into the scene, and she was pretty confident that he or Scott would be able to enlighten her on what she should do about her current situation. The next day was busy, and it was closing time before the three of them had a chance to sit for a few minutes to catch a breath. The phone had been ringing all day, a good sign that people had gotten wind of their practice but a chore nonetheless. The business of having to take down messages and

business of having to take down messages and return calls in between patients was already starting to get old. "We have to talk about hiring a receptionist,” Susie commented after writing down the last round of messages. "I know,” Scott agreed. He was relieved they were busy, but he knew that he'd have to get some help or they'd burn out. “You think we need someone fulltime?” he asked his partners. They were sitting in the reception area sharing a beer and some pizza they'd had delivered. "I think part-time would work until we get busier. It's certainly better than nothing,” Susie replied. “You need to find a person who can do the insurance and answer the phones. I've been handing the patients their forms, but eventually, we'll have to stay competitive, Scott. They'll want us to do the work for them." "I know. I'll call Job Finders tomorrow and get our name out there."

"Sounds good,” Robin agreed. “Do you need help with your correspondence, baby?" "So far, I've been writing my letters in between patients. It's working for now, but I'm sure I'll need help with that soon." "Someday it'll all be paperless, and you'll be able to forget about writing letters to the referring dentists. You can just email your surgical notes,” Robin noted. "Maybe, but presently they expect a report as soon as I see their patient." "Whomever we hire should be able to do that,” Robin added. "Okay,” Susie interjected, “now that we've got that out of the way, can I tell you what fucked up thing happened at the club last night?" "What?” Robin and Scott said together. "I was hitting my stride with a new client. He was

turning out to be a true challenge until I let him raise his head and look me in the eye." "And?” the men answered in unison again, waiting to hear the revelation. "It was fucking Jonathan!" "The stockbroker?” Scott asked. "Yeah, only it turns out he's not a stockbroker, he's with the DEA." "Huh. So, what did you do?” Robin asked. "I freaked and walked out." "Before the scene was over?” Robin was shocked. The biggest no-no of being a Dom or Domme was not following through. "No, the scene was over when I saw his face. I just never dismissed him ‘cause I practically ran out of the room." "Did you set up another meeting?"

"He did, according to Anya." "So he was obviously satisfied,” Robin said. "I don't see how. I didn't let him come." "You had a plan going?" "Yes, I sent him home with a cock ring in place and orders not to come until our next meeting. No one's been able to break him, Robin. I took this as a personal challenge, and I was doing great until we both got derailed by the fact that we knew each other." "Do you want to see him again?” Robin asked. "Yes and no. Martell wants to break him, whereas Susie is freaking out." "Why?” Scott asked, grabbing another slice of pizza and taking a bite. "I don't know who he is. Is he the Jonathan I knew or this Adrian person whom I know nothing about?"

"Does it matter?” Robin remarked. “Why not ask him point-blank before you start the next scene? If you don't like his answer, you can always cancel." "Can I do that?" "Of course you can.” Robin said. “You have a right to ask him questions, and if the answers are not to your liking, you can request that he see another Domme. It's all about consensual, remember?" "That's true,” Susie replied. “I keep forgetting that part." "Honey,” Robin admonished, “that's the most important part. It's got to be good for both of you." "Okay, I'll do it." "Good. Bullshit aside, it sounds like you were turned on?" "Uh, yeah,” Susie admitted. “More than I've been since I started this."

"So you have a connection with him?" "I guess so." "You should explore it, then,” Scott said. “Don't be afraid of it." Robin got a little closer and laid his arm loosely on Scott's shoulder. He nuzzled his neck for a minute and mumbled, “Spoken like a happy sub." "I am happy,” Scott smiled, giving Robin a kiss on the cheek. "That makes two of us,” Robin answered. "Hopefully three of us will be happy,” Susie added, “if it works out." "Keep us posted,” Robin said. “Call me anytime you want to talk." "I will. Thank you, guys." [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twelve The Periodontal Society met the fourth Wednesday of every second month. Scott was getting ready to attend his first meeting since leaving Ron's practice. He was apprehensive, because he'd most likely run into Ron and didn't know how the jerk would behave. His rational side kept saying it would be fine, while the emotional part of his brain was doing a number on him. "You want me to come with you?” Robin asked, seeing the tense look on Scott's face. He knew Scott was nervous, and Robin was worried as well, knowing who and what they were dealing with. Ron's self-professed war with homosexuals was based on his association with Promise Keepers and an ingrained hatred for something he couldn't understand. It didn't matter that he lived in a predominantly gay city or that being politically correct was mandatory in his profession. He was so certain that he had God and morality on his side that he had no qualms about voicing his opinion,

that he had no qualms about voicing his opinion, regardless of whom he hurt in the process. Scott took one last look in the mirror and turned to Robin. “I think I'd better go by myself. I don't want this to get any uglier than it has to." "Why? Do you think I'll lunge at him like a hungry tiger?" Scott smiled. “You would do anything to protect me, which includes some choice words and a fist if necessary." Robin pulled Scott toward him and wrapped his arms around his neck. He kissed his mouth, taking a minute to linger and enjoy the feel of his lover. It had been a long day at work, and they hadn't had a chance to really connect until now. “I would do anything for you, love." "I know, and I'm sure Ron is well aware of that. If you show up at the meeting, he'll do everything in his power to get you riled up." "All I have to do is see his face, and I get this

horrible urge to slap that smirk right off." "This isn't the Wild West, Red. We can't go around beating up the people who don't like our lifestyle." "No, we can't. But in Ron's case, I'm sure most people in the dental world will agree that he made a huge mistake by letting you go. I doubt anyone would stop me." "It doesn't make it right, Red. Now, shut up and kiss me so I leave with your taste in my mouth." "Kissing won't leave you with a taste, but this will.” Robin pushed down on Scott's shoulders. Scott grinned. “A quickie, okay?" "I'm not greedy." Scott laughed and sank down on his knees as Robin fumbled with his zipper. A few minutes later, Scott was back up on his feet and sharing his Dom's essence with him. “Better?” he teased.

"I am, but how about you?" "Hold that thought. When I come back from the meeting, I'm expecting a grateful Dom to welcome me at the door." "With my flogger?" "Fuck, yeah.” Scott sighed, kissing Red one last time. “I'm off." "Okay." The ride to the meeting was quick at this time of the night. Most of the commuters were long gone, and traffic on Van Ness Avenue was light. Their new house was located off Portola Drive in the lower Twin Peaks area, which afforded them a great view of the city and easy access to their office on Dolores Street. A few miles down, the winding road led them from the relative quiet of their street to the bustling energy of the Mission District. They'd chosen Dolores because it was central to all of it, as well as being a famous landmark and historical site. It was also a few blocks away from Castro

Street and teeming with potential patients. This evening, the meeting was being held at the Holiday Inn at Fisherman's Wharf. The venue changed every month so dentists who drove in from different parts of the Bay Area wouldn't complain about the unfairness of the location. Scott would have rather been at home right now, but he knew this confrontation was inevitable, and putting it off would only make the anticipation that much worse. Dealing with it early in his solo career would get Ron and his misguided thinking out of the way. The thought of having anything to do with Ron was repugnant, but he'd worked through the worst of it emotionally, thanks to Red's help; seeing Ron would be the last part of the healing process. If he could get beyond tonight's face-off, he'd be home free. He handed his keys to the valet and entered the building. He saw the signs indicating which room they would occupy, and he headed in that direction. There must have been around twenty-five dentists present, and everyone stopped talking as soon as he walked in. All eyes were on Ron to see what he would do. Most of the men were in their fifties and

would do. Most of the men were in their fifties and sixties, Ron's contemporaries and friends whom he'd dealt with over the years. They knew his opinion on gays, and if they didn't, he'd certainly given them an earful in the last half hour. He'd made it a point to arrive early so he could fend off the questions on why he and Scott had ended their partnership. Damage control was being worked at lightning speed, and Scott realized that he'd have some fences to mend. However, the younger dentists would probably resent Ron's attitude and stick by Scott, regardless of their personal beliefs. He moved over to the side of the room, where men his own age were observing the unfolding drama. “Scott.” Vic Adler, a periodontist who practiced in San Leandro, put his arm on Scott's shoulder in a show of solidarity. “How's it going at the new place? Are you all moved in?" "Yes, thanks. You'll have to stop by one weekend and let me give you the grand tour." "Happy to, Scott. Next time I drive into the city, I'll give you a call." "Thanks, Vic,” Scott replied, grateful for the support.

The other men began to come to life and gathered around him, asking questions and greeting him effusively. Suddenly, a hush fell over the room again, and the sea of bodies parted as Ron approached Scott. "Well, I see you made it,” Ron sneered. “I would have thought you'd left town by now." "I have every right to be here,” Scott said softly. He could see the anger boiling over in Ron's eyes. "You're only here because of me." "Maybe initially, Ron, but I've certainly paid my dues, and as a member of the AAP, I'm entitled to be at this meeting." "We have no room for pansies in this field." "Ron,” Vic Adler murmured, followed by a general grumbling from the sidelines. "I don't see a pansy anywhere,” Scott spoke more forcefully.

Ron snorted and looked at him in disgust. He spun around and started to walk over to the other side of the room, but Scott grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "Don't run off after making a statement like that,” Scott challenged. His cheeks turned bright with fury, and his emerald green eyes all but sparked off his face. He stared at Ron, controlling this terrible urge to punch his lights out. For once, he wished that he had Robin's volatile temperament instead of being so methodical and restrained. “Let's get one thing straight, Ron. You broke the contract because you can't stand the thought of working with a gay man. It had nothing to do with my ability as a periodontist. I'm far superior to you in every way, and everyone in this room is quite aware of my education, awards, and capabilities. Whom I choose to sleep with has nothing to do with my career, and the next time you make a derogatory remark, I'll sue you for defamation of character!" "You go right ahead and try!” Ron erupted. His frustration finally boiled over and he trembled with

righteous anger, looking quite rabid as spit pooled on the side of his mouth. “I've been around a lot longer than you have, boy, and don't forget it!" "Oh, I couldn't possibly, Ron. I can't forget any of the stupid things you've done at work either, because you're too broke to quit." "Fuck you, Scott." "Up yours, Ron,” Scott replied as he turned away and headed for the bar. He asked for a Scotch on the rocks, even though he wasn't really a drinker, but it beat having to listen to more of Ron's bullshit. He felt a body beside him and Vic's comforting arm again. “He's an asshole, and we all know it." "Thanks, Vic. I don't know why I thought he'd be civilized about this." "He's not of this world, Scott. He's a throwback." "Let's throw him back then,” Scott replied with a grin on his face. “He'd make good chum."

The men around him burst into laughter, and they took their places at a table far away from Ron and his cronies. Scott stopped drinking after he finished his Scotch so he could drive home without risk. He also didn't want to show up shit-faced, or Red would get on his white horse and come charging to his rescue. Despite his bravura and his determination, he hurt inside. The thought that he was connected to this man in any way was making him sick to his stomach. **** Robin knew that the meeting had not gone well as soon as Scott walked through the door and sank to his knees in front of him. "Come to the playroom,” he said, taking charge immediately. “Let me make it better." "Please.” Scott did as he was told, easily getting into his submissive role at the sound of his Master's voice. They walked down the steps to the basement area

they were slowly converting into their playroom. Most of the equipment had yet to be put up, but the spanking bench was in place, as well as the whipping pole. "Strip,” Robin said firmly. The sight of his sub in distress was all it took to change him from lover to Dominant, quick to provide Scott with the instruments he needed to forget his pain. “You need the cane, don't you?" Scott nodded his head. "Tell me what you need.” Robin spoke forcefully, wanting to move Scott out of his hurt and into a better place. "I need to find my center, Sir." "Go to the pole, baby,” Robin said, heading to the mirrored bureau on one side of the room. He opened the doors and started rooting around for cuffs and nipple clamps. "Yes, Sir,” Scott replied, automatically moving

toward the center of the room. Robin returned and ran his hands over Scott's chest, toying briefly with his nipples, bringing them to hard peaks. He licked at them, playing with the nipple ring he loved and found so sexy. He relished the soft moan that came from Scott's throat, and he clamped each nipple with the silver clips, careful to avoid the ring. The clamps had tiny weights attached at the end, causing them to pull on the nipples, creating even more stress. Scott began to moan in earnest, and Robin could see he was practically in his space without a single stripe of the rattan cane. He turned Scott, making him face the pole, and he attached the leather cuffs to his wrists and then to the chain hanging down from the pole. “Don't come until I tell you,” he whispered in Scott's ear. "Yes, Master." "Good boy,” Robin replied, rubbing Scott's plump ass with a strong hand. He was rigid with desire, and he tore off his clothes impatiently,

uncomfortable in his sweats. He much preferred to start out his sessions naked, or close to naked, because they took so much out of him. By the time he was done striping Scott, he was usually drenched in perspiration. Having to deal with clothing made it that much harder to nail his sub when they were done. "You ready?" "Yes, Master." Robin lifted his hand, and the cane whistled in the air just before it hit Scott across the back, creating a white line that started to turn pink. He heard Scott gasp but knew he was okay. Scott's cock pressed rigidly against his stomach, glistening with moisture that oozed from his slit. Robin raised his arm again and brought down the cane twice more, striking Scott across each ass cheek, one stripe followed rapidly by another. Scott moved, switching weight from foot to foot, trying to settle himself. Robin hit him on his back in rapid succession, watching intently to make sure Scott was safe and responding properly to the caning. It was one of the

more formidable tools in BDSM, made for pain sluts who could handle the sting that would easily break a less-seasoned sub. Scott loved his cane, always choosing this instrument over any other. Robin was smart enough to know when to quit, though. The line between a dark red stripe and an actual skin break was a very thin one, only controlled by his expertise. "Master.” Scott's voice broke after the ninth blow, shifting into a more dreamy tone that signaled his switch to sub space. Robin moved quickly, unhooking the cuffs and the chains and laying Scott down on the floor. "Master, please, let me come." Robin was burning with desire, incensed by his sub's magnificent performance, and he responded by taking as much of Scott's weeping cock into his mouth as he could possibly handle. He fucked his slit with the tip of his tongue, enjoying the feel of Scott bucking and moaning wantonly. "Come for me, baby."

He heard Scott cry out, barely able to utter the sounds as Robin continued to suck and twirl around the silky muscle that jumped around in his mouth, filling him with hot spend that he swallowed joyfully. "Master,” Scott sighed, “I love you." [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirteen "Love you,” Scott cried again as he soared off into sub space. "I'm here, love,” Robin crooned in Scott's ear. “Always here for you." "Master,” Scott sighed, wrapping himself around Robin like a vine. Robin held him for several minutes, painfully aware of his own erection pressing tightly against Scott's hot skin. He was eager for his own release, but he held off, wanting to give Scott these moments of sheer ecstasy he'd earned. When Scott's eyes started to lose their glazed look and his breathing returned to normal, Robin whispered, “Hands and knees, love." Scott moved slowly, like a man underwater, still deep in his space but happy to comply with his Dom's wish.

Robin reached for the lube and slicked himself quickly, wiping the residue on the soft skin around Scott's entry. He inserted a couple of fingers to ready his partner, who was already moaning in anticipation of his thrust. Robin positioned himself, rubbing his cockhead up and down Scott's crack, and when he could stand it no longer, he breached him forcefully, pulling Scott toward him with strong hands. He paused for a second, relishing the feel of the tight vice bringing indescribable pleasure. The sight of Scott on all fours, giving himself without hesitation, open and responsive to his every wish, induced a high like no other. Robin resumed his movements, undulating against the hot flesh, feasting his eyes on the red stripes that littered Scott's back and buttocks. He thrust in and out, pausing when he felt his orgasm much too close. He wanted this to go on forever, to hear Scott's gentle moan shift to a shuddering cry as his body responded quickly to the hard shaft nudging his gland repeatedly. Robin pulled Scott up so his back pressed against his chest, and he wrapped one arm around his sub's torso while his other hand

reached for Scott's organ, which was once again swollen and twitching in anticipation of his touch. He encircled it with warm fingers and tugged in perfect sync with his rolling hips as they chased their orgasm in tandem. They crested the peak much too soon and exploded in a series of Technicolor lights that seemed to surround them in shimmering waves. The pleasure was beyond intense, and they fell to the floor, entwined in a boneless heap, pulsing with the aftershocks. "I love you, Scott,” Robin sighed in an emotional outpouring. “More and more each day." "Red...." "Yeah, baby?" "Thank you." Robin cocooned him within warm arms and legs. “You okay, love?" "Better,” Scott replied, nuzzling Robin's neck and pressing closer.

"What happened at the meeting?" Scott groaned, but Robin persisted. “Tell me." "He was being a jerk." "Nothing new." "I thought he'd be decent, Red. Instead, he was almost out of control." Robin pushed away so he could look into Scott's eyes. The hurt wasn't quite as pronounced as it had been earlier, but it lingered, which pissed him off and made him want to throttle Ron. “What did the motherfucker do?" "He told me I had no right to be at the meeting." "I hope you stood up to him." "You would have been proud of me, Red." "I'm always proud of you, love."

"No, seriously, I told him what's what, despite the audience." "God, I would have loved to have seen the look on his face." "I thought he was going to have a stroke." "I wish he would. That would solve all our problems." "Hey, come on. Let's not talk about him anymore. You were incredible tonight,” Scott purred, nibbling on Robin's ear, trying to distract him. "I'm only as good as my sub,” Robin replied, kissing Scott tenderly. “Let's go to bed, love. Tomorrow is a long day for us." "What's happening tomorrow?” Scott asked. "I'm going to get Mama." "That's right, I almost forgot." "I didn't. That's why I marked myself out of the schedule."

"Is everything ready?” Scott asked. "The hospital bed is set up in the family room. She should have no trouble navigating between her bed and the bathroom." "How long does she have to be in bed?" "Not too long,” Robin said. “In fact, the doc suggested we rent or buy a treadmill, so she can start exercising again." "Christ! She just had the surgery ten days ago." "Welcome to the new and improved world of healthcare. They couldn't kick her out of there fast enough." "At least it's over, and they got the tumor. Now she won't be in so much pain." "I know. I'm glad she agreed to come and stay for a while. I would have worried myself sick if she stayed in San Ramon."

"We know this, Red. That's why she gave in, even though she didn't want to impose." "She's too self-sufficient." "She's had to be that way, isn't that what you told me? No one else took care of her." "No one until I came of age. I think I'm the only one she's ever allowed into her life, and accepting help from others is anathema for her." "Well, she's going to have to suck it up and let me help her as well." "She will. You're her son-in-law now." "Am I?” Scott smiled. “That sounds nice." "One of these days we'll make it legal." "Did you just ask me to marry you?” Scott's voice climbed in shock. "What if I did? Do you object?"

"Red...." "What, love? Don't tell me you still have doubts about us?" "No, of course not. I'm just surprised to hear you talk about a long-term commitment." "I've changed." "I'll say." "Come on upstairs, the bed awaits.” Robin stood and reached out to Scott. "Are you sure that your mother won't hear us having sex?" "Scott, she's going to be on the first floor. Our room is on the second." "I know, but it creeps me out wondering if she'll be able to hear me moan." Robin laughed. “You are quite the moaner, aren't you?"

"Shut up." "Come on, baby,” Robin teased, kissing Scott lightly on the lips. “I want to hear lots of noise tonight." "Master.” Scott stood, eager to comply. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Fourteen David sat in the dental chair, waiting for Scott to walk in and check his surgical site. He was alone today, content to take BART from his home in the Sunset District, despite Jenna's protests. He'd exited at the Castro Street terminal, walking down several blocks until he arrived at his destination. He'd been a recluse since Vera's death, only stepping out for his daily walks with his dog, but he was starting to feel better about being alive. The guilt of seeing Vera slip out of his grasp without being able to help her was finally loosening its chokehold. He was realizing how fortunate he was to be healthy at his age, and the need to have a tooth replaced with an implant no longer seemed so ludicrous. Initially, he had thought it would be a waste of money, for how long did he actually have left? Sure, his parents had lived well into their nineties, which meant another twenty years if he followed suit, but he'd been mired down in his depression and unable to see the big picture.

Jenna's insistence on the implant had spurred him on, and suddenly the thought of eating mush for the remainder of his life lost its appeal. If he lived five more months or five more years, it would be nice to eat whatever he wanted, unlike other seniors, who had no choice but to stick with the traditional forms of tooth replacement. The cost had been reduced due to the discount Jenna received by being in the same profession as well as Scott's recent coworker. David couldn't get over the reason why Ron had ended the partnership with Scott. Regardless of what Scott did in his personal life, he was first and foremost a very good dentist. David chuckled to himself, almost patting his own back with his tolerant attitude. He hadn't been this evolved when he was a young man, arriving in San Francisco a lifetime ago. He'd left Germany in 1933, dragging along his grieving parents, who didn't understand the need to flee a country they'd always felt comfortable in. There had been a change in the air, a shift in values since Hitler had come into power. Too many friends were

disappearing, and everyone seemed to turn a deaf ear and a blind eye. So long as it didn't directly involve them, no one cared. David's best friend was Jewish, and when Rolf and his entire family practically evaporated without leaving a note or any hint of where they might have gone, he decided it was time to go. Years later, he'd come to realize the wisdom of his choice; however, he had been devastated at the time. He met and married Vera when he was in his late twenties, and the twins were born two years later. They expanded their small circle of friends after that, a normal evolution that came with parenthood. Little by little, he explored his new city, which seemed to be a melting pot for races from all over the world. It was a joy to see a synagogue on one side of the street and a Catholic church on the other, existing in perfect harmony. He could still recall the hordes of angry young men in their brown shirts and black pants, chanting slogans that made grown men and women cry and flee in terror. It was memories of the random acts of cruelty that made David a more

random acts of cruelty that made David a more understanding and accepting individual. To his way of thinking, a person deserved to have choices in life, and the freedom to exercise them was the greatest gift that America had ever bestowed on its people. As the years went by and San Francisco became the hub for homosexuals, David made it a point to learn about them, and now he was completely comfortable with the whole notion of same-sex love. It wasn't something he'd ever understand on a personal level, but he had no problem with the concept. The door swung open, and Scott walked in, smiling at David graciously. He smiled back, pleased to see the young man. "How are you feeling, David?" "I'm fine, Dr. Gregory. No pain at all." "That's good to hear. Please, call me Scott, okay?" "That's my middle name,” David said. “Must be why I like you,” he chuckled.

Scott was startled and forgot what they were even talking about before David made his pronouncement. "Dr. Gregory?” David asked, surprised that Scott sat and stared at him without replying. "I'm sorry, David. I just had a brain fart for a moment there." "'Brain fart'?” David asked, looking completely perplexed. Scott laughed, embarrassed by his faux pas. “Please call me Scott, David. I insist." "Very well, but first, what is this ‘brain fart'?" Scott burst into laughter and explained the wonders of modern language usage to his patient. He enjoyed the next half hour, taking much longer with his post-op exam than was necessary. It was easy to forget the time when he was with the old man. Despite everything, he was drawn to him in a primal way. He enjoyed listening to him talk, detecting the

faint but still recognizable German accent. He had a presence about him that was at once formidable and comforting. Scott wished he'd met him years ago. "You're all set, David. I'd like to see you back in about three weeks for another quick visit. We'll take an X-ray and see how that bone is integrating around the titanium post." "It's almost miraculous, isn't it?” David asked. "Yes, especially when it's restored. You won't even know it's there." "Wow." "Wow? David, you just used a slang word,” Scott teased. "You are infecting me, Scott,” David grinned. Scott could see himself in that lopsided grin, getting a clear vision of what he would look like in his old age. The reality of the situation hit him like a slap in the face. He wanted to come right out and ask him,

Why did you do it? Instead, he swallowed the words that were at the tip of his tongue and stood abruptly, wishing David a good day. He headed straight for his office and locked the door, sitting at his desk and holding his head, trying to get control of himself. Why? He'd asked that same thing over and over and kept coming up blank. The explanation he had been given made no sense, especially now that he knew more about David. It would have been great to cry on his lover's shoulders, but Robin was caught up in Denise's arrival at their house. The knock at the door forced him to snap out of his melancholy. He opened it, only to be pushed back by Susie, who saw right through him. "What happened?” Susie's demeanor practically demanded an answer. "Nothing." "Don't ‘nothing’ me, Scott. Did David say anything to upset you?"

"On the contrary. He's so fucking nice I can't help but like him." "And how is this a bad thing?" "I just wish he were hateful like Ron. Then I wouldn't give him a second thought." "Oh hell, Scott. It's too late for that crap. You need to move on." "I know, and I have, for the most part. It's just that I never expected to have any kind of family, and now all of a sudden, I'm told that I do." "Yeah, well, the only family you should be concerned about is the one that loves you: Robin, primarily, Denise, and moi, as backup." "I know,” he smiled at her, grateful for her friendship. She always knew how to lighten the load. "That's more like it,” Susie replied, smiling back at him. “Let's close shop and go have an awesome mid-afternoon snack."

"Are we done for the day?" "Yup. The four o'clock canceled." "Great. Let's stop at Fuzio and have a drink. I could use one before going home." "Aren't things going well?” Susie asked quickly, concerned about her partners. "No, that's not it, everything's fine. I try not to talk about those people when I'm around Robin ‘cause it just pisses him off." "He hates Ron, doesn't he?" "Don't we all?" "I guess. Come on; let's talk about more pleasant things, like how the fuck I'm going to break Jonathan, AKA Adrian." "What are you going to call him, for one thing? Adrian or Jon?"

"Hell if I know. Do you have a suggestion?” she asked on their way out the door. "Just call him ‘boy',” Scott quipped, enjoying the sound of Susie's laughter. **** Robin pulled Scott's BMW up to the front entrance of the hospital. Denise was in a wheelchair, but only because the doctor had insisted. She would have walked if they'd given her the option. "Thanks for picking me up, sweetie." "No problem, Mama. Scott didn't need the car, and I wasn't about to pay for a damn ambulance to take you all the way to San Francisco." "I think my insurance would have covered the trip,” Denise said. "Maybe so, but you know I'm a scrooge, Mama. Why pay someone when I can do it myself?"

"Are you having money problems, Robin?" "Of course not. I've never had more money in my life,” Robin said with an eye roll. “You've just trained me very well, my dear." "Well, I'm glad to hear that. I don't want you to ever take anything for granted." "Yes, Mother." "Stop it! You think we can swing by a burger joint on our way into the city? I'm so sick of hospital food." "No problem,” Robin said, pointing the car toward the first In-N-Out Burger he could find. As luck would have it, one of his old buddies from the BDSM club was the manager, and he couldn't wait to give Robin a hug and find out what he was doing these days. "Where have you been, Red? It's been ages." "I've just been getting my life settled in the big city, Rick. You know, new job, new sub."

"Really?” Rick peeked over Robin's shoulder and whistled when he saw the BMW. “Looks like you hit the jackpot, hmm?" "That's not my car,” Robin explained. "Oh, I didn't think so." "What does that mean?” Robin frowned in annoyance. "Well, you know,” Rick said, embarrassed. “You didn't have much of anything when you worked the bar, just your pretty face and killer bod." "Fuck you, Rick." "Hey! Don't get upset. I'm telling it like it is, Red. I'm glad you've found something good." "What I have is a career. I'm a dental hygienist." "Whoa!” Rick threw up his hand. “A little defensive, aren't we?" "Forget about it,” Robin said, grabbing the bag of

food and throwing a fifty at him. He didn't even wait for change; he just took off. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Fifteen Ron sat at his desk with the sales rep from a large Southern California-based company that sold implant systems. Eric had all the necessary components that made up a complete surgical kit laid out on the desk for Ron's mini-training session. He'd been with Ron for the last hour, going over the steps that were a part of the surgical process for implant placement. Eric shifted in his chair, pointing out each drill bit and its uses for the third time. Both men were getting frustrated—Ron for not being able to understand the whole process, and the salesman for thinking that this was going to be a slam-dunk. Most practitioners got it after going over the sequencing a few times, but Ron kept forgetting which drill to use first and the importance of following the template to ensure a successful surgery. "You might want to come down to San Diego for a few days and get in a class,” Eric suggested after the third explanation had failed to enlighten Ron.

the third explanation had failed to enlighten Ron. "I don't have time for that,” Ron answered, irritated by the young man's condescending manner. He picked up the phone and barked at Jenna when she answered, telling her to join him in his office. When she walked in, Ron immediately stood up and pointed at the mess on his desk. “Jenna, go over this with Eric. He'll explain everything. I'm late for my tennis game, and Julie will be livid.” He grabbed his jacket and walked out the side door without as much as a “thank you." "Sorry about that,” Jenna mumbled, embarrassed that the rep had to witness Ron's little temper tantrum. “If you'll explain the parts and their uses, I'll let you go in under thirty minutes. I promise,” Jenna assured him with a smile, knowing that Eric had already stayed much longer than planned. "No problem,” he replied, putting on his best game face. The potential sale was worth the aggravation, in his opinion, and most assistants were the ones who knew the system backward and forward, so this wasn't unusual.

What Eric didn't know was that Jenna was more than an assistant. She was an extension of Ron's brain and knew most of the periodontal procedures better than Ron did. Jenna often pointed out something that her employer missed because he was too bored to focus on the task at hand. Ron had been performing periodontal surgery for over thirty years and had become quite lackadaisical about it. He'd come to rely on Jenna to get him through a surgical procedure whenever his mind began to drift into his favored worlds of tennis and fishing. Eric went over each step again, pointing out the different drill sizes and the importance of starting with the smallest drill before moving onto the next. He explained the difference between the internal and external hex and a straight implant versus a tapered one. He stressed the importance of tying black sutures on each small part to prevent a patient from swallowing anything accidentally. Eric explained when an implant could be done immediately after an extraction or should be delayed. It was all pretty routine, but Jenna had

never heard any of this before. She and Ron had left the more complex procedures to Scott and Susie, grateful that they didn't have to involve themselves in this complicated world of step drills and surgical guides. But things had changed in the four months since Scott had been gone. Ron's schedule got spottier each day, and he'd had to turn patients away after finding out that they needed an implant. Ron could see dollar signs floating out the door with every surgery he declined, so he decided to take the chance and start doing the implants himself instead of supporting some other practice by referring his patients. After all, he told an astonished Jenna, how difficult could this be? It was simply a question of drilling a hole in a patient's jaw and placing the titanium post. Jenna sat at Ron's desk after Eric left and looked at all the parts again. She'd written copious notes on each step and would study them, but she had serious misgivings about this. Ron wasn't the surgeon he used to be, and this was not as simple

as he thought. Jenna had finally come to the conclusion that her love and loyalty to Ron had been completely misplaced. It was a terrible thing to realize after being in love with the same man for most of her life. She'd never get those years back. The regret and guilt ate away at her like the worst parasite, a constant pain that had no remedy. Her attempt to gloss over her role when she'd had her meeting with Scott had been met with disdain. He'd looked at her with disgust, revolted by what he'd heard. She had backed herself into a corner with her lies, and it was too late to reveal Scott's identity to Ron, let alone to her father, who had now become Scott's patient. It hurt to hear David sing the praises of his new doctor, simply because he would have been so much more effusive if he had been aware of the relationship. They seemed to have a good rapport, which made the whole deception even more tragic. Jenna was convinced that her father would never forgive her if she told him the truth. Her future seemed bleak: more empty years serving a man who didn't deserve it. She was helping him

a man who didn't deserve it. She was helping him regain the money he'd squandered on his ex-wife —and his current one—all the while receiving nothing in return. If she were braver or didn't believe in God, she'd have thrown herself off the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead, she reached for her only source of comfort. The Valium was handy, always available to anxious patients, and a wonderful way to dull the edges of her pain and anxiety. She unlocked the cabinet where Ron kept the controlled substances and took a couple of pills out of the bottle. She dry swallowed one ten-milligram tablet and kept the other for later. She'd write in some fake name tomorrow, when she could look at the schedule and dummy up someone's need, but for now, she was confident that no one would notice the absence of two pills, least of all Ron, who was oblivious to most of the events that went on in his practice. She locked the cabinet, picked up the kit that Eric had left behind, and walked out of Ron's office. **** Scott entered his new home and yelled out a

greeting. “Where are you?" "Kitchen,” Robin replied. His answer was a little abrupt, and Scott could tell by the look on his Master's face that he wasn't in the best of moods. He kissed him on the lips and got a grunt, confirming his suspicions. “Everything okay?” he asked in a low voice so Denise wouldn't hear. "Not now." He looked at Robin and shrugged, moving away from him toward Denise. He kissed her on the cheek, smiling at her warmly. She wore the blue robe he'd bought for her at Saks, the perfect color to match her eyes, and she smiled back despite the obvious lingering pain from her surgery. “How are you doing, Denise?" "I'm fine, sweetie. Don't fuss over me. Robin's done nothing but flutter around me all day, and I'm beginning to go crazy." Scott smiled. “He likes to take care of the people he loves."

Robin didn't look up; he continued to prepare the salad and slice the garlic bread into big chunks. "Everything smells really good. You didn't cook, did you?” Scott asked Denise, never expecting anything else. He and Robin weren't exactly masters in the chef department. "No!” Robin was indignant. “Mama walked me through the entire process, and I made lasagna that would make Vito Corleone proud." Scott grinned, rolled up his sleeves, and sat at the table. “Too bad I don't have a wife-beater under this shirt, or I'd take it off and really get into character." Robin smiled at the comment. He piled the garlic bread into the wicker basket and placed it in the middle of the table, whispering into Scott's ear, “You do love your scenes, don't you, baby.” Scott's blushing helped to dissipate some of the anger that still lingered after his buddy's comment in San Ramon. Dinner was too good and his submissive far too beautiful to let it fester. Robin grinned at his

partner's reaction, even more determined to exorcise his bad mood. He kissed Scott's ear, running his tongue around the edges, delighted to see the goose bumps appear automatically around Scott's neck. “I'd like to take you in the back room and fuck you up against the door, just like Sonny in the Godfather." "Stop it,” Scott hissed, glancing at Denise, who was watching the two of them in amusement. She knew Scott was dying of embarrassment, Robin not so much. He couldn't care less that he had an audience, but Scott's cheeks matched the Merlot in the wine glass Robin had set on the table. "Don't worry about me,” she smiled. "Go and bring the food,” Scott begged, pushing Robin away. "What did you say?” Robin's eyes turned frosty when he heard the command issued by his sub. Roles seemed reversed tonight because of Denise's presence.

"Please?" "You bet,” Robin backed off, mindful of his mother and the circumstances. Hearing Scott say please made his cock twitch, and if Denise hadn't been present, he would have dragged Scott down the stairs to their playroom and fucked him silly. Scott shifted around in his chair, trying with very little success to get rid of the hard-on that appeared as suddenly as the look in Robin's eyes. There was nothing more exciting than seeing that dominant look settled on him. Robin brought the lasagna pan to the table and rested it on the trivet Denise had produced miraculously earlier this evening. Robin didn't even know that they owned one. She'd found it in one of the drawers and placed it in the middle of the table. Beside it, there was a large red bowl of salad filled with assorted greens and cherry tomatoes, lightly dressed with olive oil and vinegar. "God, this looks amazing,” Scott exclaimed, feeling the saliva pooling in his mouth. He hadn't realized

how hungry he was until he saw and smelled the food. "Dig in, love, I hope you like it,” Robin said, watching Scott take his first bite. He was gratified by the look of sheer pleasure that erupted on his partner's face. “Good?" "Beyond good,” Scott nodded. “Heavenly." "I'm glad you like it, Scott. It's not much, but it's filling,” Denise interjected, toying with her food. Robin had placed a hefty portion on her plate, hoping she'd have more than her usual miniscule portion. She'd lost weight over the last few months, not surprising considering the pain she'd been enduring, but the tumor had been removed successfully with few side effects. It was time to gain it back. "Eat, Mama,” Robin admonished. “You're too skinny." "I'm trying, hon. I'd like to get well as quickly as possible so I can go back to San Ramon and return

to my job. Sitting around here is going to kill me." "You're not going anywhere until we get the okay from the doctor. He said two months, and we insist you follow orders.” Robin's reply was stern despite her look of horror. "Two months? You can't be serious." "That's what he said, Ma. Now stop trying to fight this and let someone else take care of you for a change." "I couldn't possibly stay here that long. I'd go insane with nothing to do." "Watch TV, play video games, eat junk food,” Scott suggested. "I don't watch much television, Scott, and I detest video games,” Denise said, annoyed that she even had to justify her need to get back home. Robin raked long fingers through his dark red curls, exasperated by her stubbornness. “Why can't you

just be a lady of leisure for once?" Denise burst out laughing. “A what?" "Come on, Ma. Read War and Peace or something equally as long." "Reading isn't my thing either." "What is?” Scott asked gently, curious about this woman who'd raised Robin single-handedly. "I like to work, Scott. It's what I do best. Then I come home, have a nice dinner, watch about thirty minutes of the news, and go to bed." "It doesn't sound like you've had much fun in your life." "I couldn't afford it, but that's neither here nor there,” Denise replied, staring at him with a determined look in her eyes. “Let's talk about my stay here. I can't hang around this house for two months. I'd go mad."

"You could come to our office every morning and answer the phones." "Scott!” Robin looked shocked at his suggestion. "She'll be sitting down the whole time, Red. The most strenuous part will be getting from this house to the car and up to the office. There's an elevator, so she won't even have to climb the stairs." "That's the best idea I've heard in days,” Denise said, finally relaxing a bit. “What do you think, Robin?" "I think you're crazy for wanting to work so soon." "Hon, you know how I hate to sit around and do nothing,” Denise cajoled, reaching out to Robin. “Please?" "Okay, fine. Just don't come crying to me when you start hurting at the end of the day." "Have I ever done that?” Denise asked. There were two bright spots high on her cheekbones, and her

eyes sparked with anger. "Never. Of course not, Ma. I'm sorry! If you want to come and help us out, that would be great,” Robin answered, back-pedaling furiously. Denise rarely got upset, but when she did, it was formidable, and Robin's comment seemed to have struck a nerve. "How soon can I start?” she asked, settling back down into the sweet persona they were used to. "How about next week?” Scott replied. “That will make it exactly three full weeks from the date of your surgery." "Fine. Now, everyone eat." **** Much later, when they'd gotten Denise settled in her makeshift room downstairs, Scott inched his way over to Robin's side of the bed. He lifted Robin's arm and snuggled into his favorite spot, pressing his nose up against Robin's neck. “You always smell so good,” he sighed. He caressed him with a gentle

hand, making little circles around Robin's nipples, watching them come to a peak for him. He felt Robin shift, and he decided to broach the subject before this went any further. “Are you going to tell me what you were upset about earlier?" "It's nothing,” Robin said, taking Scott's hand and resting it on his cock. "I don't believe you,” Scott replied, twirling his thumb around the spongy head that already glistened with want. Robin snorted a laugh. “Is this some new form of interrogation?" "Whatever it takes, Red." "You're driving me crazy with the hand job." "I know this. Now, tell me what happened,” Scott persisted. He encircled Robin's girth, gloving him with increasing pressure. "Babe,” Robin moaned softly. “I can't think when

you're doing that." "Sure you can, Red. I've seen you multi-task with the best of them." "I ran into someone I knew from the club, and he said a few things that pissed me off." "What'd he say?” Scott asked, lifting his hand up to his mouth and licking his fingers as Robin watched him intently. He slid the same hand back down and gently breached Robin with two saliva-coated digits, stretching him. Robin groaned and lifted his hips toward the persistent hand. “He practically accused me of having a sugar daddy." "Fuck him." "That's what I said." "Don't let it get under your skin, Red. We know what's what,” Scott whispered, leaving his favored spot at the crook of Robin's neck and heading

south. He parted Robin's legs, placing them on his shoulders to get better access, and he pressed his mouth against the tender skin that was trembling with need. Scott moaned with pleasure as he inhaled the musky scent that was all Robin. He made love to Robin with his mouth, licking every surface that would bring his Master pleasure. Not one spot was spared as he feasted on his man, coating every ridge and curve with saliva that mingled with the briny taste of pre-cum that oozed nonstop. He jabbed and twirled, loosening the muscle that guarded Robin's center, and he was rewarded by the guttural sound of a voice barely able to say the words, “Please, baby." "I'm going to fuck you senseless, Red,” Scott hissed, grabbing the lube and slicking his cock quickly. He was driven by his lust and a need to comfort his Master, who had no problem turning over the reins tonight. "Do it, love." He slid into the tightest spot on earth, the one that blew his mind each time he visited. “God, you're so

hot,” he sighed with pleasure. “The hottest man alive." "Love you,” Robin sighed. "Love you more." [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Sixteen Susie pushed the door open and stopped, soaking in the sight of Adrian—AKA Jonathan—kneeling with his legs spread apart and his hands clasped behind his neck. His head was bowed respectfully, and he never looked up, even though she could tell he was well aware of her presence. The sight of his awakening cock was all the confirmation she needed, and she was satisfied to see that he still had the silver cock ring in place. She moved over to the bureau that contained her tools, reaching in to pull out a length of black silk rope. She wrapped it around her hand, leaving the majority of it to drag on the floor behind her as she walked slowly around Adrian, brushing against him deliberately. She saw his stomach muscles contract when she touched him, noted the twitching of his cock as it fought to escape the metal restraint, but he remained in a display position. She was impressed by his control but disconcerted at the same time. How was she going to break him when

no one else had managed to do it in the last six months? Dommes who were far more experienced than she had not had any success, and even Anya had thrown up her hands in disgust. But Susie had an advantage over the others. The man in front of her had practically begged her for a relationship when he was masquerading as a stockbroker; there was obviously an attraction. The fact that she had refused meant she was a challenge to him as well, so the two of them would be dueling for control, which made this D/s relationship much more interesting. Her advantage, of course, was that she had the upper hand. He had come to her to be conquered, to relinquish the control that seemed to be a part of him. The first order of business was getting him to reveal his true identity to see if this was going to proceed any further. "Look at me, Adrian.” She spoke quietly but firmly. He lifted his head slowly, and there was a spark of desire that flashed but was quickly put out by a strong will.

"Who are you?" "I'm your slave, Mistress." "Let's drop the role-playing for one second. What's your real name?" "Adrian Manning." "Why the subterfuge months ago?" "It's a part of my job." "Adrian, this relationship won't go any further if you don't tell me the truth willingly. I've known you as Jonathan, stockbroker and regular guy. Now you're telling me you're someone else entirely." "I had to lie for the sake of my career.” Adrian's reply was automatic. "You wanted a relationship with me,” Susie reminded him. “You wanted us to be exclusive. Were you ever planning to tell me the truth?"

"Eventually." "Well, it's a good thing I had no desire to get into anything permanent with you, because I would have been disappointed yet again." "I'm sorry, but in my line of work, I have to be careful." "I didn't realize that spies were still big business." "I'm not a spy, Susie. I'm a narc, and I was undercover when I met you. I couldn't tell you the truth." "You were fucking me, Adrian, or doesn't that count for anything anymore?" "I was only trying to protect you, but you were hiding something as well. Where was this Dominatrix persona you wear so easily?” Adrian asked, turning the tables on her. "This is a recent thing."

"Maybe if you had given me a hint while we were dating, I would have told you the truth sooner." "That's bullshit, and you know it." "Yeah, it is.” He smirked. "So what happens now?” Susie asked. “Are you still a narc?" "I don't have to answer that, do I? The appeal of this club is being anonymous." "Then I will gladly turn you over to someone else, if that's how you want to leave this. No harm done." "No!" "No?" "Please, Susie, Mistress... I've had everyone here, and no one seems to do it for me except you. I'd like you to give us a chance." "I'm not sure if I want to."

"I'll tell you as much as I can." "That's a start." "But it must remain confidential,” he continued. "I wasn't planning on taking out a full page ad." Adrian studied her silently, and his intense gaze did funny things to her stomach. He'd become much more exciting in the last few minutes, and even his appearance seemed to change with the knowledge that he wasn't the boring stockbroker she thought he was. There was something mysterious and deadly about him that appealed to her sexually, and she felt herself warming up to him, the fluttering in her stomach moving down toward her groin. He nodded at her, acknowledging his consent. "We have an agreement?” she asked. "Yes, Mistress, only the truth from now on." "What are you looking for in a Domme, Adrian?” Susie began circling him again, letting the silk rope

drag across his torso, teasing him. “Is it a nanny you want? Do you fantasize about being a little boy or someone's plaything? Do you like dressing in pretty pink clothes?" He shook his head vigorously. “I need someone who can dominate me, Mistress, who can take me where I've never been. I need to be a slave to a powerful warrior queen." "And you think I'm capable of that?” Susie asked, trying desperately to keep her voice as unemotional as possible. All she wanted to do was cover his body with hers, to feel his mouth all over her, to be worshiped in the most delicious manner. She knew this session would set the tone for any future relationship, so she pushed down her desire and focused on his needs for the moment. "Yes, Mistress, I'm certain that you are." "I'm tying you up, Adrian. Can you handle bondage? " "Yes.” His answer was respectful; however, Susie

could tell he was struggling for control. His voice deepened with every reply. "I'm wrapping you up, Adrian, and then I'm going to whip you with a cane." Susie observed him as he groaned and shifted from knee to knee. He was starting to lose it, but she hoped that he was experienced enough to know that he'd blow his chances of becoming her sub if he said or did the wrong thing. "You will be quiet, Adrian, and take it without a sound. If you do, I will reward you at the end of the session. If I hear one word out of you, you lose." Adrian whimpered suddenly, exhaling a strangled breath as he fought to obey her. “I will do my best to please you, Mistress." "You do so, Adrian, and I will let you worship me when we're done." He moaned and licked at a drop of sweat that had rolled down from his forehead. He felt overheated,

though he was stark naked; it was probably from the fire deep inside that was slowly threatening to erupt and consume him. He hadn't been this excited in weeks, perhaps months. Something about Susie, especially as Mistress Martell, ignited him in ways he'd only dreamed about. His body was well aware that he'd finally found his match, as evinced by the moisture seeping out of his slit. "I'll sit on your face for as long as you want,” Susie whispered in his ear. “I'll let you come all over my legs if you do as you're told. I'll even let you look me in the eye as you do it,” Susie said with a smile, knowing this last bit was a prized reward. "Mistress!” His eyes were wild with excitement. “Please, can we start?" Susie backed away from him triumphantly and began the tedious process of binding him with the black silk rope. **** Robin rested his head on Scott's thigh as he

paused for a minute to catch his breath. They'd been going at it since five in the morning, a little earlier than normal, but it was a daily precursor to the ringing of the alarm clock at six. The hard cock pressing against his backside was what had awoken Scott, not the time. It was the persistent kisses being littered up and down his neck, the hot tongue tickling his ears, the smooth thumb rubbing the head of his penis, twirling around in the moisture that came as automatically as his heart beat. The strong leg moving in between his, parting them, making room for the mouth that attacked the tight, pink pucker with an energy and vigor that belied the hour. It was Robin's face, hot and scratchy with morning stubble, marking the tender flesh inside his thighs. His warm tongue lapping at his balls, leaving them wet with saliva, tingling as they cooled in the morning air. The same tongue moved relentlessly in and around the tender regions of his anus, pushing the tight ring that eased open to accommodate this persistent lover, the one who was whispering obscenities, causing Scott's cock to twitch and fill.

obscenities, causing Scott's cock to twitch and fill. He moved to hold himself only to have his hand shoved aside by another, more demanding one. One that held on tightly, moving up and down like a piston, bringing him to climax as ropes of thick come poured out of him, soaking the sheets and coating Robin's hand. Scott shuddered in the early morning light, still half asleep, while his mind tried to catch up with his wide-awake body. After a few minutes, he began to move, needing to taste Robin and return the favor. He responded in like fashion to this personalized wake-up call, rubbing his face against Red's tight curls, loving the noises coming out of his lover's mouth. He paid homage to the sweet flesh now stretched to the limit, its underside covered with tiny blue veins, the fat mushroom-shaped head slick with a combination of saliva and pre-cum. Robin moved and canted his hip, needing to be engulfed, to have the sweet juice sucked out of his engorged member. Scott heard Robin's sigh of contentment as he worked him with his tongue, fucking his slit with short, jabbing movements followed by long sucks up and down his shaft. All too quickly, he felt

the rush of hot liquid filling his mouth, pulling a rough moan from deep in his throat as he swallowed Robin's spend hungrily. Scott slithered up Robin's body effortlessly, latching onto his mouth to share his essence, making wonderful sounds as they continued to grind against each other. "I love you,” Robin sighed, reveling in the sweetness of their release. It was the perfect way to wake up in the morning, far more energizing than a double shot latte and exceedingly satisfying to them both. "Love you back,” Scott moaned, wrapping his arms and legs around his partner. “Are you happy, Red?" "Babe, you know I am. Why do you even have to ask?" "Sometimes I wonder if I'm enough. You're so isolated with me, far removed from the scene. We haven't been to a single club since we first hooked up, other than that night with Susie and Anya. Don't you miss your friends?"

Robin was silent for a minute, thinking about the question. He was happy, more than he'd ever been in his entire adult life. But there was a small part of him that missed the scene and the excitement of being around like-minded men looking for the perfect moment of submission. He'd never been a big clubber, preferring private sessions, but he had enjoyed his part-time bartending job. Granted, he hadn't had a pot to piss in at the time and had to make do with borrowed equipment, but it was fun and challenging. When he'd left San Ramon to take up his new job, he fell into his relationship with Scott on practically the same day. He'd cut himself off from his friends after that to stay on the down low for Scott's sake. They'd called him on several occasions, inviting him and his new submissive to join them for parties or private sessions, but he always declined in deference to Scott's need for privacy. As he lay in Scott's arms, he had to admit that it would be nice to go out and be a part of the scene, even once a month. He wanted to show off his perfect submissive, his boy. He'd never mentioned it before

because it was out of the question. But things were different now, and maybe it was time for a few changes in their lifestyle. "Would you object to our going out to the club once in a while?" "So you do miss it,” Scott sighed. "I can live without it, baby, but why? We're not in hiding anymore, right?" "Right." "Why not go out and have some fun?” Robin asked, peering up at Scott. Scott widened his eyes when he heard the question. “You're bored, aren't you?" "No, baby. That's not it." "Just go ahead and say it. I'm boring as fuck." "No, you're not! You asked me a question, and I gave you an honest answer. I'm not bored, but I

thought we were going to start to let other people into our lives now that we're out in the open." "You want to fuck someone else?” Scott asked, clearly alarmed. “You want to have a scene with another submissive." "Whoa! Scott, you're way out of control and so wrong. That's not it at all." "What then?” Scott asked, not unaware that Robin had used his given name, slipping them both out of their D/s relationship. He was trying not to lose it, but the thought of Red with anyone else was making him physically ill. He could feel the nausea rolling around inside of him, ready to pour out with very little provocation. “Do you want to have a public scene?" "I think it would be hot." Scott could feel the blood draining from his cheeks, and he looked at the redhead, who gazed at him with those flower-blue eyes that rang every one of his bells. He squeaked, “You do?"

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Seventeen "What the hell does that mean?” Scott asked, snapping out of his stupor and jumping off the bed. “Obviously, I'm not hot enough for you on my own,” he mumbled under his breath. "Hey.” Robin grabbed his hand and pulled him back roughly. “Cool it!" "Why should I?” Scott's throat ached as he spoke, even as he felt the sting of his tears. "Because you're overreacting, that's why,” Robin replied softly. “Come here,” he cajoled, drawing Scott in closer. “You're plenty hot for me, baby,” Robin reassured, pressing kisses all around Scott's neck. “I just want to show you off, let them know why I haven't been around for so long." Scott moaned and practically melted into Robin. "I want the other Doms to see what we can do

together,” Robin continued, “you and me on stage." "Really?” Scott pushed away so he could see Robin's face when he asked, “You don't want some other sub on stage with you?" "Oh baby. I don't want anyone else." "Are you sure?" "Listen,” Robin reassured him gently, but with purpose. “I hadn't given the club any thought until you asked me if I was happy. When you and I first got together, I knew what was expected of me. Secrecy was a must, and I would have never jeopardized your job, even though I wanted to show you off in the worst way. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" "Stop it. I'm nothing special." "Scott, that's where you're so wrong; you're a walking wet dream, baby. The thought of you on display, with my collar around your neck, is a fantasy I've had for a long time. I just never thought it would

materialize." "Is it that important to you?" "Yes,” Robin acknowledged with a nod. “I didn't think it was, but now that you've asked me what I want, I want this. I want to make our union official." "We live and work together, Red. We share a bank account and the title to this house. Isn't that official enough?" "I know it sounds completely illogical, but the side of me that needs to dominate wants this." "At the club in San Ramon?" "Yes." "In public?" Robin nodded and waited in silence, never wavering. Scott knew this was a final test of his commitment to their relationship. So far, everything had been

about him. Robin had given in to his need for secrecy throughout the course of their relationship, staying in the shadows and honoring his every request. He'd never pushed or insisted on anything, except for now, and Scott was all too aware that Red would be deeply wounded if he refused him. On the other hand, he needed some guidelines. "If I do this, I'd like to wear a mask." "Why?" "It's one thing to be out and proud; it's entirely another matter to admit I'm in the scene. I don't want my lifestyle to impact my career in any way. I honestly feel my colleagues and patients accept my being gay, but they would balk at any involvement in BDSM. I don't believe society has evolved that much." "You've given me an honest reply, and I want to respect your wishes. Someday you may change your mind; for now, I'll agree to mask you. But I want to be in charge of your entire wardrobe."

"Are you going to dress me up like your pretty boy?” Scott grinned, surprised by Robin's statement. He'd never involved himself in Scott's choice of clothing, so this was a first. "I just want to make sure all your assets are visible,” Robin grinned. “If I let you decide what to wear, you'd show up in a shroud." "I won't be paraded naked." "You have to trust my choices, love. I would never embarrass you." "Yes, Master." "Baby,” Robin groaned, excited by Scott's use of that one word. “Let's take this conversation back to bed." **** Several hours later, Scott sat at his desk and thought about Red's request. He'd agreed to the public scene, albeit reluctantly. Years ago, he'd

explored the clubs and all they had to offer. He came to the conclusion that the concept of turning a private kink into a public spectacle bothered him. He understood others didn't feel the same way; most people into the BDSM lifestyle craved the trappings of that world, including the need to show off. When he and Robin had first hooked up, it was at a club, but they'd ended up in his car, far from the public eye. Later, after they formalized their relationship, it was agreed that it would always be kept under wraps. He was grateful that Robin understood and bowed to his need for privacy, which was why this request for a public collaring seemed so out of character. Scott was trying to understand the reasoning behind it, but he kept coming up blank. There was a knock on the door, and Susie's head popped in as she pushed it open. “You busy?" "No, come in." She pulled out a chair and threw herself into the comfy leather seat. “You seem very serious,” she noted. “Is everything alright between you and

Robin?" "Everything's fine, Suz. I'm just a little thrown by Robin's latest request." "What is it?" "He wants to collar me in public." Susie's facial expression changed from mildly bored to complete surprise. “Are you going to do it? " "Yes." "I'm shocked." "So am I, but I want to make him happy, and he seems to want this." "You really do love him, don't you?" "I'd do anything for him, but I must admit this is one of the hardest things he's ever asked me to do. I despise public scenes. The thought of baring my soul, not to mention my naked ass, in front of all

those people is making me queasy. I'm not sure how I'll manage, although Robin's agreed to let me wear a mask, so I will have some anonymity." "There you go. It'll be fine, Scott. Just enjoy the moment and Robin's pride in you. I can understand his need to introduce you to his peers in that world. It's something I would want if I were your Domme." "Speaking of Dommes,” Scott interrupted, “how did it go with Jonathan?" "Oh my God." "Bad?" "Hell no.” Susie's smile was filled with hidden meaning. Scott reached across his desk and grabbed Susie's hand. “Tell me." "Promise you won't tell anyone except Robin." "Come on, Suz."

"His real name is Adrian Manning, and he works for the DEA. He was undercover when I met him the first time." "You guys dated for several weeks. Why didn't he tell you then?" "He said it was to protect me." "And you believe him?" "I want to." "Why?" "Because he's amazing,” Susie replied. “Scott, once Adrian and I got past the deception, he submitted beautifully." "I'm really happy for you, Suz, but I've no desire to hear the details of your victory." "Fucker.” Susie picked up a pencil and threw it at him. Scott ducked to avoid getting hit by the flying

missile, and they ended up giggling like crazy. “Are you seeing him again tonight?” he asked in between the laughter. "Are you kidding? I'm so hooked on this guy." Scott nodded. “That's great! Now that you're getting laid again, you won't be so cranky." "I was not cranky!" "Wrong word choice. Edgy." "Who's edgy?” Robin asked, walking in at the tail end of the conversation. "Miss Brioni here seems to have found her submissive." "He broke for you?” Robin pounced. Susie nodded, grinning from ear to ear. "Far fucking out!” Robin reached out and gave her a high five. “Way to go, Suz."

"I think I've found him, Robin." "I'm sure you have,” Robin quipped. “This isn't something that requires a lot of thought, girl. Either he is or he isn't. You pretty much know right away." "I guess so. I get lightheaded every time I think about our session last night." "That's how it should be; it's how it is with Scott and me." "We're still far from your comfort level, but we're closer than we were yesterday." "And every session will bring you that much closer,” Robin smiled. He was so happy for her. Her quest for the perfect relationship had been fraught with mistakes, but she seemed to be on the right track with the appearance of Jonathan/Adrian in her life. "So hold on,” Robin asked. “What are we calling him?" "Adrian."

"That's his real name?" "Allegedly." "We're doing cop talk now?” Robin grinned. “Why?" "'Cause he's sort of a cop. DEA." "Yikes. Those guys get into some pretty nasty situations." "I guess so, but let's not talk about that, okay? I promised him confidence, and I expect you both to honor that." "Mum's the word, hon,” acknowledging the promise.

Robin

nodded,

"So what did you do to break him?" "Oh please,” Scott interjected. “Do we have to go into that?" "You can always leave the room,” Robin said. “I want to know on a professional level."

"Bullshit! You just want to get off on her technique." "That too,” Robin smiled. “Come on, girl. Dish." [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Eighteen Jenna held the surgical suction tip against the small incision that oozed bright red drops of blood. Ron was preparing to excise a strip of tissue from his patient's palate to graft onto an area of recession on the lower front teeth. He'd been doing gingival grafts for years, and he and Jenna could do the procedure with their eyes closed, which was what was happening on Jenna's end. She'd taken a Valium about twenty minutes ago and was starting to fall asleep. Ron clicked his tongue against his teeth and frowned when Jenna's hand slipped, snapping her out of her somnambulant state. His gaze turned dark with anger, but he was unable to vocalize his disgust for fear that his patient would realize what was happening. Jenna blinked rapidly, wishing away the drowsiness as best as she could. Ron proceeded with the surgery, slicing a very narrow rectangle on one side of the patient's palate closest to the teeth. He then loosened the tissue, cutting it away very gently so he could lift and

transfer it to the recipient site to augment the gingiva that was receding at several teeth. It was a surgical procedure he was very good at when his assistant cooperated. Today, however, Jenna seemed to be all thumbs. Ron was about to lay the donor tissue in the saline wash to keep it viable while he sutured the palate, but Jenna moved spasmodically, inadvertently resting the suction tip against Ron's scalpel, sucking up the small sliver into the black hole of the plumbing system. She gasped out loud while staring at Ron with eyes wild with fear. He heaved a dramatic sigh but said nothing in deference to his patient. There would be time enough later to reprimand Jenna. Right now he had to cut out more of the mucosa, which meant another wound, resulting in more pain for his patient once the numbness wore off. This time, everything went off without a hitch, and as he sutured the graft into place, he made a mental note to talk to Jenna and find out what the hell her problem was. She'd always been near-perfect chair side, but lately she kept making stupid mistakes. It was almost like she was

deliberately trying to sabotage him. He drew off his gloves when they were done, issued his postoperative instructions, and left Jenna to complete the final steps before dismissing the patient. He walked down the hallway to his office, pausing briefly in front of the empty hygiene room, wishing there was someone in there cleaning people's teeth. He had not succeeded in finding anyone to replace Robin. Several women had applied, but he resisted hiring them, unwilling to commit to another full-time employee with benefits. No one seemed interested in a part-time job anymore, but he didn't think that he'd have enough work to keep someone occupied five days a week. The state of his practice was appalling. He hadn't seen so many openings in his schedule since he was in his twenties fresh out of school. The big reason, of course, was the exodus that followed Scott's departure. Who knew that a man could make such an impression in a little under a year? Patients who had been loyal to Ron had followed Scott without as much as a backward glance.

glance. He threw himself into his black leather chair and stared out at the view of the city skyline. The fog was rolling in, and the clouds were settling on the buildings like clumps of cotton. It gave the impression that he was in some heavenly place, but the truth was that he felt as close to hell as possible. He never thought he would be facing bankruptcy at this age, but he was damned close, according to the accountant, unless he started to generate some cash quickly. He'd resisted jumping on the implant bandwagon to alleviate the situation simply because he knew his limitations. The bill collectors didn't care that he'd been a healthy account for years. They were no longer extending credit lines, and most orders had to be paid within forty-five days or the supply would dry up. This didn't leave him much freedom, and he'd been dipping into his savings over the last few months to make ends meet. That was about to come to a screeching halt, since he was almost out of funds. The door opened, and Jenna stood there, hesitant to enter.

"Come in,” he ordered roughly, finally able to rid himself of some pent-up frustration. “What the hell is wrong with you?" "What do you mean?" "You're acting like an idiot. I can't remember the last time you fucked up a procedure so badly!" "I'm sorry, Ron. I was distracted." "By what? This isn't the first time you've made a mistake, Jenna. Lately, you seem to be in another place entirely. Maybe it's time to talk about retiring." Jenna stared at him, open-mouthed, unwilling to believe he just said that. “Excuse me?" "You heard me. I can't afford to have an assistant who's got her head up her ass." "Do you know how long I've assisted you without making any mistakes?” Jenna bristled, finally letting out some of her own frustrations. “How can you be so goddamn cruel and suggest retiring when I've

done nothing but my best for so many years?" "Watch your tone of voice, young lady,” Ron admonished. “I will not be spoken to like that by an employee." Jenna backed away from him, disgusted by his condescending attitude. He really was a sanctimonious prick, and she wanted to slap him. Instead, she raised her voice. “I'm not a young lady, Ron! I'm a grown woman who has devoted her entire life to you and your practice. I will talk to you any way I fucking please!" Ron stood quickly, shocked by her disrespect. He could feel the blood rushing to his face, and he fisted his hands to keep them by his side, determined to retain a modicum of self-control. When he finally spoke, he oozed sarcasm. “You have been paid very well to do your job. You are here to earn a salary, Jenna, so don't turn this into some dramatic self-sacrificing role on your part. You wouldn't have stuck around if you weren't happy at your job."

"I'm here for you!” she screamed, unmindful of the tears that finally made an appearance and fell down her cheeks in torrents. “You were the only reason I stuck around, but the sad part is, you don't realize how much I've given up for you. You think you're entitled to my devotion and loyalty because you paid me a salary? Are you so blind you can't see how I feel?" "What are you talking about, Jenna? You need to control yourself,” he spat out, grabbing several tissues out of the box on his desk and shoving them at her. "Fuck you, Ron,” Jenna replied. Her face crumpled up like an old sketch left out in the sun too long. The grief and despair of the wasted years choked her with an intensity that left her shaking and lightheaded. “Doesn't it matter that I gave up my virginity and my life to be with you? Doesn't that count for anything?" "Don't bring up ancient history. What happened all those years ago was an unfortunate mistake. I'd hoped that you had overcome your romantic

feelings for me, since they were never reciprocated, and I made that very clear. Isn't it rather ridiculous to be talking about our youthful indiscretions when we're both senior citizens?" "I am not as old as you, Ron! I'm only in my early fifties, not some dried up old crone." "You'd never know it,” Ron sneered, unable to resist the opportunity to dig the knife in a little deeper. Jenna gasped at this fresh attack, spun around, and ran out of the room. She couldn't endure one more minute in his presence. She went to retrieve her purse and practically flew out the back door, slamming it behind her. **** David was folding the laundry while watching a baseball game when Jenna came storming into the house. He was surprised she was home so early and even more so when he realized she'd been crying.

"What is it, sweetheart?" "Nothing, Papa. I just don't feel so good." "Are you sick?” he asked in alarm, worried she might have some fatal illness similar to Vera's. "No. I have a bad headache and need to lie down." "Do you want me to bring you an aspirin?" "That would be great,” Jenna sighed, too depressed to even pretend otherwise. She went to her room and fell on the bed, hugging her pillow to her chest. The tears began to flow again when she thought about the horrible things she and Ron had said to each other. The realization that she meant nothing to him was the worst moment of that entire conversation. The fact that he'd called their affair a “youthful indiscretion” cut like a knife. She'd loved him for years, sacrificing everything for a man who didn't even care enough to acknowledge they had shared something special for one brief moment. It would have been some

consolation if he had said something to that effect; instead, his words and actions had proven what a fool she'd been. David knocked on the door, holding a glass of water in one hand and an aspirin in the other. He handed her the pill, relieved when she sat up and popped it in her mouth. She took a sip of water and lay back down, covering her face with her forearm. "Why are you crying, Jenna?" "I told you, Papa. I don't feel good." "Sweetheart, I don't think you're telling me the truth." "I'm sorry." "You've been very sad for many weeks, and don't think I haven't noticed. I may be old, but I'm not senile or unaware of what's going on with my only child,” David said kindly, hoping she'd open up. "Oh, Papa,” Jenna cried out, bursting into another round of tears. “I've been such a fool."

"We all have suffered from that sickness at some point in our lives,” he said softly, waiting for her to continue. "I've made so many mistakes." "We all make mistakes, Jenna. The important thing is being aware of them and learning." "It's too late for that, Papa." "It's never too late, sweetheart. So long as you have a breath in your body, there's hope." "You don't understand,” she sighed, leaning against his broad chest. He enveloped her and kissed the top of her head, trying his best to comfort her. It had been years since he'd held a weeping woman in his arms, thirty-four years since that terrible day when Jenna had called him from North Carolina to tell him Anna was dead. The tears that had fallen back then had almost destroyed him. He'd held Vera in his arms while he told her that one of their daughters had just died, and he wanted to die as

well. The pain of losing a child was indescribable, almost too much to bear. David thought he'd been through the worst of it, but seeing Jenna so miserable was just as difficult. He didn't even have Vera to help him figure out what the problem was. He just knew his daughter was going through a terrible time, and he felt helpless. David wasn't a superstitious man, but he was struck by a terrible sense of foreboding for Jenna. He enfolded her in his arms and held her tight, determined to keep the monsters away, just like he had when she was a child. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Nineteen Robin entered the most famous jewelry shop on Sutter Street and paused, a little intimidated by the aura of extreme wealth permeating his surroundings. He glanced from counter to counter, hoping to see the familiar face of his patient, Mitchell Bryant. He'd been sitting in his chair, having his teeth cleaned, when Robin happened to mention jewelry. Mitchell revealed that he was a fine jewelry salesman and offered to give him a hand in making a selection. They'd talked at length about the merits of gold, silver, and platinum, and he seemed very knowledgeable on the subject, so Robin was taking him up on his offer to help. Robin wanted a piece of jewelry Scott would wear every day, something unobtrusive and classy that wouldn't scream BDSM. Mitchell knew that they were gay and lived together, but he knew nothing about their involvement in the lifestyle. It was none of

Mitchell's business why Scott was the recipient of this neckpiece. He could surmise all he wanted, but Robin had no intention of going into details. Mitchell waved, acknowledging his presence. "I'm glad I caught you on a workday,” Robin smiled, stretching out his hand in greeting. "So am I." "I don't know much about jewelry, so I'm relying on your expertise." "Just like I rely on you to keep my teeth shite and briny,” Mitchell teased. "Exactly,” Robin grinned. "Tell me what you're looking for, and I'll see if I have it." "I want something simple and classic, with a modern touch as well." "Gold or platinum?"

"Gold or platinum?" "Definitely gold, and it has to be yellow gold. It works great with Scott's skin tone." "I can certainly see that,” Mitchell smiled. “Any other requests?" "It needs to have a locking device of sorts, so once it goes on, it doesn't come off,” Robin said quietly. “Unless I take it off, you know what I mean?" "I think so,” Mitchell said slowly as his awareness of what Robin was asking became clearer. "I want to be able to engrave something on it. Is that possible?" "It will have to be a firm piece rather than a link chain, unless you want a small charm hanging from it that you can engrave." "No. I want it to be part of the necklace." Mitchell nodded and began pulling out tray after tray for Robin to look at. “You said nothing about a

budget, Robin. Is money a factor?" "Not today." Robin acknowledged that a large part of this need to collar Scott in public was to prove something to the members who'd teased him about his lack of proper Dom attire. He'd shrugged it off when he was in school, laughing along with them when they made jokes. He didn't have much choice in the matter, but after that incident at In-N-Out Burger, he wanted to shove it all in their faces. He not only had the most gorgeous sub in the world, he now had the money to show him off properly. It was only fitting that he return to San Ramon in triumph, and he was going to make damn sure that he and Scott knocked them on their collective asses. "Scott's a lucky man,” Mitchell commented, breaking into Robin's thoughts. “I hope he appreciates it." "He does.” Robin smiled but dropped his gaze to the trays on display, effectively ending that discussion. He scanned the different necklaces,

passing over some that were quite ordinary. He wanted something unique and special, something Scott would be proud of, that would signify his submission and willingness to please his Master. The thought of placing the collar around Scott's neck in a public forum was making his cock twitch. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this excited about an upcoming event. He'd already made the reservations, timing it with the club's Evening in Vienna, an opulent night of excess where Doms and subs dressed in magical attire, each one guaranteed to outshine the next. It would be the perfect night to bring a masked sub to the club without raising questions. Robin's gaze landed on an unusual-looking piece of jewelry made of hundreds of thin strands of gold in varying shades of yellow and rose, braided into a pliable rope, much like the rope used in a normal bondage scene. It was soft enough to bend and lay against Scott's neck, but strong enough to resist an accidental tug. It had a standard clasp, which made Robin think it wouldn't work, but Mitchell noted his interest.

"It can be altered to suit your needs,” he said, ever the salesman. "Are you sure?" "I'm positive. It's a gorgeous necklace, Robin. Eighteen carat gold and handmade in Italy by a master craftsman. You can't go wrong." "Will we be able to engrave it?" "When we change the closure, we'll insert a small tag you can engrave. It'll be hidden behind the lock, but you'll know it's there." "That's perfect,” Robin answered, nodding his head with enthusiasm. “I'd like a piece of paper and a pen so I can write down what I want on the engraving." "Here you go.” Mitchell slid a small notepad toward Robin. He grabbed it and began to write, making sure to print in block letters so they could read his writing.

"How soon can I have it?” Robin asked, handing over his credit card and the slip of paper. "In about three weeks." "Jesus! It's a good thing I got this done early." "It's going back to Florence, Robin, to the jeweler who made it." "Well, now I'm more confident it will be done right." "I promise you'll be very happy with the results." "Good. Now, if I can just find a good tailor who specializes in leather." "I know someone,” Mitchell replied, looking at Robin with ever-increasing interest. “Would you like his name? I promise utter discretion." "You do, huh? I expect you to be discreet if you're going to help with this." "You have my word."

"So how do you know about this guy?” Robin grinned, pretty sure that Mitchell was in the lifestyle. "Oh, friends and acquaintances who love the smell of leather,” Mitchell replied with a conspiring smile. “I suppose you'll want something different and highend, correct?" "We're going to a masquerade ball, and I want Scott to be the most beautifully dressed.” Robin's pride and love for his partner was clearly evident in his voice. "I think I know which one you're talking about,” Mitchell stated, handing Robin his card and the sales receipt. Robin looked at the final figure and almost passed out. It was the equivalent of his entire month's salary, but it was worth it to pick out exactly what he wanted and not have to settle for a change. Robin looked at Mitchell and waved the receipt. “Did you give me a discount?" "Twenty-five percent,” Mitchell replied with a straight

face. Robin smirked, disregarding the little voice in his ear that was screaming rapacious greed. He knew that Mitchell had jacked up the price in order to “give” him the presumed discount. "Thanks a lot." "You're welcome, Robin. Like I said, Scott is a very lucky guy." "No, I am." [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty Denise put down the hairbrush and looked in the mirror one last time. The image staring back at her was a little thinner, but the pinched look around her mouth was gone, thanks to the absence of pain. It would be a few more months before she regained her strength, but she was convinced that staying home and watching television wasn't the way to do it. She needed to get out and rejoin the work force, and if helping out at the dental practice was the only way she could leave the house, she was going to jump at the opportunity. Robin had asked Susie to get her a few things she could wear to work, since her nursing uniform wasn't exactly appropriate attire in an office setting. She was delighted with the three outfits Susie had chosen, pleased and flattered that Susie had made the effort to pick the right colors to complement her auburn hair and creamy skin. Denise loved the way the navy blue blouse hugged her slim figure and was secretly thrilled Susie had found something

trendy and fashionable, making her appear younger than her actual fifty-six. She even let Susie talk her into cutting off her long hair, acknowledging that it made her look oldfashioned and matronly. There was a moment of panic when she saw the ponytail after it was lopped off, but Susie's hairdresser had assured her that her twelve inches was going to a good cause. Denise watched as he lovingly bundled the auburn tresses into a tissue and then a plastic bag so that he could ship if off safely to Locks of Love. Somewhere out there, a young cancer patient would be delighted to receive this loving donation so she could have her very own wig. Now Denise's hair grazed her chin in a soft bob, and the new fringe sweeping her forehead completed the picture. She looked like a woman in her late forties, and a very elegant one at that. Denise blushed when Robin and Scott both whistled as she walked out of the room. “You look like Nicole Kidman, Ma,” Robin exclaimed, completely surprised by his mother's new look.

She'd always veered toward simple and practical, choosing to wear her hair long and pulled back for ease, so this new style made her seem like a lovely stranger in her son's eyes. "Thank you, but if the actress knew that you were comparing her to a woman who is much older, she'd be pissed." "Who cares?” Robin shrugged off her remark. “You look great, Ma." "Yes, you do,” Scott acknowledged. “My patients are going to be wondering who this sexy lady is." "Oh stop it. You two are so silly,” Denise protested, obviously flattered by their gushing. "Shall we go?” Scott asked. "Yup.” Robin nodded and took his mother's hand as they made their way out the door. Several hours later, Denise seemed right at home. She'd spent the better part of the morning

acquainting herself with the phone system, the computerized scheduling, and the process of checking patients in and out. She'd made coffee, taken messages off the phone, replied to a few of them, and was learning how to generate insurance forms. She loved feeling useful, and she didn't even realize that it was almost eleven until the door opened and a new patient walked in, introducing himself. "Good morning,” the older gentleman greeted. “I'm here for my appointment with the hygienist." Denise looked at the schedule and saw that the stately looking man was David Zisman, Scott's grandfather. She had learned the entire story from Scott, who had no qualms about sharing anything with her. He trusted Denise implicitly and knew she would respect his privacy while guarding his secret with her life. It didn't take away her curiosity, though, and she observed David once he sat down to wait. He was a seasoned version of Scott. It was as clear to her as the picture of Robin and Scott on her desk, taken the week they were up in Tahoe. David had the same dark blond hair, although his was

had the same dark blond hair, although his was thinning on top. The main difference between them was in the eyes. David's were brown instead of the startling green. They were both around six feet tall. Robin came out to get his patient and shook hands with David, introducing himself as the hygienist. "How do you do?” David asked in a deeply soothing voice. “I don't think I've ever had my teeth cleaned by a male hygienist,” he commented as he followed Robin. "We do just as good a job,” Robin quipped, “although you'll miss the whole experience of having my boobs brush against your face." David looked startled by that remark but burst into laughter, and Robin smiled broadly, relieved that the old man had a good sense of humor. “Come on, Mr. Zisman. Let's see what you have hiding under that great smile." "Two years of plaque, from what I understand." "Nothing that a good scaling can't fix."

"I'm counting on that, Robin." "Yes, sir." Denise observed her son working his charm on the surprisingly fun septuagenarian. Robin was in his element; he usually had his patients eating out of the palm of his hands after a few minutes. He was a gifted raconteur, and people were naturally drawn to him. It might have been his take-charge dominance, which seemed to come forth easily in the dental environment, but it comforted people instead of intimidating them. It helped that he was very skilled with his hands and had a light touch, which made the whole experience of teeth cleaning that much better. After about fifty minutes, the small light above Robin's door turned on, which meant he was almost done and ready for Scott to check the patient. She watched Scott go into the hygiene room and listened to the soft mumbling of their voices. She couldn't hear anything being said due to the walls extending to the ceiling, as opposed to the open

environment of some newer offices. Scott and Robin had both decided they preferred this. Very few people were comfortable in a dental chair, and having complete strangers watching them made it even worse. This way, once the patient was brought into a room, they could be assured of the privacy they deserved. All three men walked out of the room together, but Scott went back to whatever he had been doing, while Robin accompanied David up to the front desk. "Denise,” Robin said, using her given name as they had agreed beforehand. “David's going to need more time with me. I only gross scaled today. I need to get in deeper, so if you would give him three more appointments, that would be great." "I'm afraid I wore him down,” David said apologetically. “It's been a long time since my last cleaning, and I seem to have barnacles stuck to my teeth." "Not barnacles, David, but close,” Robin smiled.

“You'll be a lot more comfortable if I scale your teeth with anesthesia, and working by quadrant makes it easier on you and me." "You're the boss, Robin,” David acknowledged. "See you soon, okay?” Robin smiled one last time to reassure David and then headed back to his hygiene room. David nodded his head and turned to Denise to schedule his next visit. "Is there a day or time you prefer, sir?" "Please, call me David." "Alright. Are you a morning person, David? Robin starts at eight-thirty. He needs about an hour with you, so why don't you tell me what you'd prefer, timewise." "I do like the mornings, but I enjoyed walking here, and I would have to leave my house at seven to be on time."

"Oh my,” Denise exclaimed. “That must be a long walk!" "It's not really; I just like to take my time and not rush through my day." "Would a ten o'clock appointment be better?" "Yes." "I have something next Monday. Would that work for you, David?" "Considering my social life has been nonexistent since my wife's death, I can safely say I have an open calendar.” He spoke gently, and when he smiled, his eyes crinkled up at the corners. Denise liked his relaxed manner, and she could easily imagine how attractive he must have been as a younger man. In fact, he was quite attractive now despite his age. He looked and acted like a man in his sixties. "In that case, I'll put you on Robin's schedule, and we'll make another appointment for you that day, or

would you prefer to make three appointments now? " "We can do them all now,” David said, “if that works better for you." "Why don't we have you come three Mondays in a row at the same time." "That would be fine." Denise took a card from the little holder on her desk and wrote out his appointments. She could feel David watching her intently. She looked up quickly, and he smiled, but he seemed a little embarrassed, almost like a young boy caught doing something naughty. "Everything okay?” she asked. "Oh yes,” David replied, composing himself. “It's just been a while since I've noticed pretty women." Denise raised her eyebrows, shocked. “Me?” she asked, completely disarmed.

"Who else?" "Thank you,” she stammered, handing him the appointment card. Their fingers brushed against each other, and they pulled their hands back quickly, but not before they felt the sparks fly between them. "See you in a week?” he asked. "I'll be here." "Good.” David smiled and seemed to stand taller, infused with a new energy. He turned and walked out the door, leaving a stunned Denise behind him. **** Jenna stood over the tray of instruments, checking and rechecking everything. They were going to be doing their first implant case today, despite the fact that neither she nor Ron was ready. Fortunately, it wasn't complicated. The patient was missing a bicuspid, and it looked like he had lots of bone in the area, so they wouldn't even need to do a bone graft. It's going to be fine, she kept telling herself,

quelling her anxiety. She had taken half a Valium about twenty minutes before and decided to pop the other half, needing the extra five milligrams to fortify her. She checked her tray one more time and walked out of the laboratory. Ron and his patient were already in the room, having a conversation about fly-fishing. Jim Spears was an old friend as well as a longtime patient, so he was a great candidate to be their first implant case. Not since the incident with the perforated sinus had they attempted this procedure. It had shaken them at the time, and the fact that Scott had been around to retrieve the implant and repair the damage was a lucky break for them. Jenna was well aware that they were on their own today, and if anything went wrong, they'd have to fix it by themselves. Everything proceeded smoothly with Ron confident and very alert. She passed him the first drill and watched as he started the procedure, going through the sequence of preparing the site to receive the titanium post. He started with the smallest drill and moved onto the next, slowly increasing the drill size,

moved onto the next, slowly increasing the drill size, measuring and looking at the X-ray every step of the way. When everything was finally ready for the implant to be placed, he took it from Jenna's hand, positioned it on the drill, and placed it in the small opening he had made without incident. He seated it to his satisfaction and gave the drill back to Jenna, putting his hand out, waiting for the next tool. She passed him the hex driver, which looked like a mini screwdriver, and he started to tighten the abutment when the tool slipped out of his hand. Since Jenna's reflexes were a little slower due to the Valium, she didn't move the surgical suction tip in time to catch the hex tool; Ron and Jenna watched in horror as it went down Jim's throat. He swallowed and coughed, choking a little, but eventually he settled back down, breathing normally. "What the hell did I just swallow, Ron?" "Christ!” Ron exclaimed. “I'm so sorry. It slipped out of my hand." "What?” Jim asked, clearly perturbed. "It was the hex tool. It's really miniscule and should

pass right through you without a hitch." "Are you sure?” Jim looked even more concerned. "I'm positive, but I'd like you to go to the emergency room and have an X-ray to be certain. I'll be glad to pay for it,” Ron said seriously. He was glaring at Jenna, convinced it was her fault. She felt the tears welling up in her eyes, desperately embarrassed by her carelessness. She'd forgotten to tie the silk suture to the hex tool so she could hang on to the end of it, preventing it from being swallowed and avoiding this disaster. "Well, fortunately, we're done, and the implant is in place,” Ron announced. “I'm certain the X-ray will reveal the tool traveling through you without incident. I apologize, but it should be fine, Jim." "Let's hope so, Ron. I'd hate to have to sue a friend,” Jim said pointedly. They dismissed Jim, and Jenna headed toward the laboratory in tears. Now that she was alone, she

could let it out, and she began to sob quietly, disgusted by what had happened. She took pride in her work, and this was another sign of her deterioration. Despite Ron's comforting words to Jim, she was concerned, and she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Scott's direct line. "Dr. Gregory here." "Scott! It's Jenna." "Yes?” He seemed cold and unwelcoming. She started babbling, recounting what just happened, half-hysterical with fear. "Jenna, slow down. You did what?" "We dropped a hex tool down a patient's throat." "Why wasn't it tied?" "I forgot." "Jesus Christ! You guys are a menace."

"It was an accident,” she wailed. “Do you think it will be okay?" "Does the patient seem to be breathing normally?" "He seems okay, but we sent him to the emergency room." "That's all you can do. Now you just have to wait." She began to cry again. Despite everything that had happened between them, Scott listened to her, giving her some small consolation. He seemed to care about her current situation. "Jenna, it's going to be fine. Take a deep breath and relax." "Scott, please, would you come and meet me?" "For what?" "I just need to talk to you and be reassured." Scott sighed. “I don't want to be anywhere near Ron."

"Meet me outside the building. We'll go to Starbucks and have a coffee. Please?” she begged. "Give me thirty minutes,” Scott said, disconnecting the phone. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-One Scott glanced at his schedule and realized he was done for the day, so meeting Jenna wouldn't be a problem, except it was. Robin was livid. "Why the fuck is she calling you? Does she think you have a way of magically expunging the hex tool from her patient's intestines?” The redhead bristled with anger, never forgetting what he and Scott had been through in the last year at the hands of Ron and, by association, Jenna. "Red,” Scott pleaded for understanding, “don't be upset." "I am upset, Scott. Next thing you know, they'll be calling you to give them a tutorial on placing implants. Fuck them!" "Come here,” Scott cajoled, reaching for Robin and wrapping strong arms around his slim waist. He drew him up against his torso and held him. “I can't

help my feelings, Red.” Scott spoke with his lips close to Robin's ear. “There's something about Jenna that touches me. I know I should ignore her, but she sounded almost desperate." "I still don't like the idea of you meeting her. She's probably going to beg you to reconsider and go back to Ron." Scott pushed Robin away and stared into the startling blue eyes that were looking at him with concern. “You can't be serious." "I know it sounds stupid, considering the money we've invested in this place, but my gut is screaming ‘danger'!" Scott smiled, a little relieved that Red seemed to be realizing how irrational his fears were. “I would never do anything to jeopardize what we have. Do you honestly think I'd ever go back to what I had with Ron?" "I hope not."

"You can count on it. I give you my word that nothing they say to me will make a difference." "They are your family, Scott. I'm not unaware of that fact." "The only family I have is you, Denise, and Susie. I don't need them." "Kiss me so I'll shut up,” Robin growled, capturing Scott's face with strong hands and drawing him forward. “I love you so much, baby. I don't want to see you get hurt." "Red,” Scott sighed against the soft lips that opened up for him. He could feel Robin's length pressing against his thigh, and the kisses grew more heated. He loved the possessive way that his Master squeezed his ass cheeks, and he couldn't help but moan when Red centered his hard cock against Scott's matching boner and started a slow grind, whispering obscenities that made him weak and wanting so much more. “I'll never get out of here at this rate."

"That's my plan exactly,” Robin said as he moved his hands all over Scott. "I promised her I'd come." "Oh, you're coming alright. Any second now." Scott's soft laughter died in his throat when he felt Robin tug at his zipper and slip his hand into his pants to release his distended shaft. “Oh God.” Scott groaned and leaned against his desk to get better leverage. "You're so ready for me, baby,” Robin whispered, feeling the silky organ grow plump with each tug. Drops of moisture slowly escaped out of Scott's slit, and Robin smeared the fluid over the bulbous head, loving the way Scott started to rock against his hand, fucking it slowly. "Red,” Scott gasped as soon as Robin sank to his knees and took him in his mouth, as deep down his throat as humanly possible. Scott fisted the red curls as he was systematically destroyed by his partner's educated tongue. “I'm close,” he warned,

unable to hold it much longer, and he felt himself release in stuttering spurts as Robin's throat vibrated around Scott's sensitive organ. Robin milked him until there was nothing left, and when he was done, he tucked Scott back into his pants and stood, kissing him again. “That was a little preview, love. When you get back, I'm going to pin you to the mattress." "Sir.” Scott slipped into sub mode, wanting to do nothing but lie down and have Red take him forcefully. “I may have to rethink this entire visit with Jenna." "Just go and see what she wants, baby. You're going to be stressing over this until you talk. I promise we'll have an extra long session tonight." "Love you,” Scott said, still a little breathless from the amazing blowjob. "Love you more,” Robin stated. “Now, give me one last kiss and I'll get out of your way." ****

Scott picked up his car keys and left the office via the back door. When he got to the Sutter Street garage, he parked on the fifth floor and took the elevator down to street level. Jenna was already waiting for him, looking the worse for wear. She was dressed in her scrubs and had thrown on a light cotton sweater to camouflage the fact that she hadn't bothered to change into civilian attire. Scott could tell that she was still disturbed over the incident with the hex tool. Her normally placid face was contorted into a rigid mask, and the furrow between her eyebrows was taking on the proportions of a trench. "Scott.” She heaved a sigh of relief at seeing him. “Thanks for coming." He held her by the arm and veered left to get out of people's way. “Do you have anything special in mind?" "Why don't we walk over to Maiden Lane. I think they still have the outdoor cafe in place,” Jenna suggested. It was early November, and although

most of the country was already feeling winter's bite, San Francisco weather was pleasantly mild. They found a vacant table with two chairs, and Scott ordered a coffee while Jenna had the iced tea. As soon as they sat down, she fished another pill from her pocket and swallowed it quickly. "What are you taking?” Scott asked curiously. "A little something for my nerves,” she replied in haste. "Are you under a doctor's care?” Scott continued. He didn't want to interrogate her, but he had to admit he was a little concerned. She seemed very fragile emotionally. "No." "So where are you getting your pills?" "They're just herbs, Scott. I buy them at the Vitamin Shoppe." "I see."

"Can we stop talking about me?" "Suits me fine. Why am I here, anyway?" "I need your help." "With what?" "Ron is insisting on doing implant cases, in spite of what happened today. I know I need more training, and so does he, but since I can't force him to go, would you consider training me?" "Absolutely not." "Why?” Jenna's voice elevated in protest. "First of all, you're not the doctor, and secondly, Ron needs to take a course. I've already told him that." "He's not willing to do it." "Then God help him the next time he fucks up." "Come on, Scott. It's not like I'm asking you to come back to the practice,” Jenna said sullenly. She

sipped at her iced tea, never taking her eyes off of him. He looked more and more like David each day. The truth was, she couldn't see any of Ron's genes in Scott. He was more a Zisman than a Morris, which was just as well. She was starting to resent everything about Ron, and she was glad that Scott was nothing like him physically. “I want to learn how to do this right, Scott. I should have remembered to tie the silk suture around the hex tool so I could catch it." "Ya think?" "Hey! I've beaten myself over the head enough times. I don't need you to start." "You need to put your foot down and not do this. What if something really bad were to happen?" "Like what?" "I could name you five worst case scenarios, but do you really want to get into that? Why don't you tell Ron you won't assist? He's stuck without you."

"He'd fire me." "That's bullshit, and you know it." "Scott.” Jenna's eyes welled with tears suddenly. “He doesn't give a shit about me." "Are you sure? After all the years you've devoted to him, he must feel something for you." "If he does, I don't know about it." "I'm sorry, Jenna." "It is what it is, I guess. All I have left is my father —and you, except you want nothing to do with me." "It's not that,” Scott explained. “I don't want Ron to find out he's my biological father." "I would never tell him,” Jenna said with as much