Under his command, p.8
Under His Command, page 8
part #2 of Decadence L.A. Series
Her friend’s husband was big though not nearly as tall and muscular as Flynn. He was a few years younger than the Commander, but she’d still bet against her longtime friend in a head-to-head matchup.
“I don’t know if I want to try the club scene again.” She’d done it before and come up empty.
“Decadence LA isn’t like anything you’ve experienced before. I promise. Come with us this once, and if you don’t like what you see, we’ll think of something else.”
What else was there? Online dating? Was she that desperate?
Unfortunately, she didn’t like the answer to her question.
She sighed. Even though she vowed never to settle—and anything less than Commander Flynn Dalton was definitely settling—she was facing her thirties alone and unfulfilled. Perhaps she needed to expand her horizons and not limit herself to a long-term commitment. Maybe a happily ever after wasn’t part of her destiny, and the best she could expect was happy for now.
Although a daunting way to jumpstart her non-existent social life, what would it hurt to visit the exclusive club her friends always raved about? And, since there appeared to be no hope for her and Flynn, she needed something in her life other than work.
“What’s involved in this membership mixer?”
Jules’ brows shot up in surprise. “It’s a costume event and should be a lot of fun.”
That sparked her interest; she loved dressing up. But her heart wasn’t in it. “I’ll think about it.”
“Which in Cassie-speak means no. Stop dragging your feet. You’re not getting any younger, ya know.”
“Gee, thanks. After being called barely legal a few hours ago, I don’t know whether to be flattered that you think I’m old, or crushed.”
“What jerk said that?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does so matter! I want a name. I’ll give it to Colt, and he’ll straighten his sorry ass out. He considers you family and worries about you, like a sister.”
“Please, no…” she groaned. That’s all she needed, trouble at work, as well as in her personal life. “What the guy said wasn’t all that bad. The age jokes have always rubbed me the wrong way that’s all. Besides, he said I had a great ass. How can I be offended by that?”
This defused her anger somewhat. Jules pushed one shot glass in front of her and raised the other. “We should drink to your ass, which is phenomenal, and that’s me who’s straight as an arrow saying it.”
She licked salt off her hand, tossed it back, and sucked on a lime wedge, but afterward only smiled half-heartedly. “I know I need to get out more and think about other things besides work. The only people I meet now are Navy men. Yes, they’re hot, seriously built, and have all the alpha traits that make a girl’s panties damp. But other than the instructors, whom I have to work with, they come in through a revolving door, do their grueling training stint, then head off to the other side of the world. I steer clear. Keeping the home fires burning is not a life I want.”
“I sure am glad it’s not mine anymore,” Jules agreed, understanding better than anyone, having lived it with Colt for almost a decade. Cassie remembered many frantic phone calls when the nightly news reported an escalation of violence and that special forces were sent in to settle things, take out a radical group, or repel into a compound and take out a terrorist leader. Thankfully, he was home, healthy, and for the first time since they got married, living on the same continent, year-round.
She frowned suddenly, thinking how Colt and Flynn were a lot alike. Bossy, protective, authoritative Navy men, they seemed cut from the same cloth. Maybe too much so.
“You said the club owner was retired Navy. Are there any non-military Doms at your club?”
“Why wouldn’t you want a military man? Lean, fit, perfection in a uniform—especially their summer whites.” She laid one hand on her chest and fanned herself with the other. “They’ll make you do more than stand at attention and salute. Trust me, you’ll love it.”
“Maybe I need a break from all that.” And someone who doesn’t remind her of Flynn.
“The club has members from all walks of life, although quite a few are former servicemen and some active duty. If you want to steer clear, we can have Colt point them out.”
“Active duty! What if I run into someone I know?”
“Los Alamitos, NWS in Long Beach, LA Air Force Base, and Camp Pendleton, I could go on. Coronado isn’t the only base in California. I think we’re two of the few crazies who drive over two hours to get the chance to play.”
She didn’t find that reassuring. Most people in the lifestyle were dedicated to it, and two hours didn’t seem like much of a barrier to keep them away.
“Come on. You’ll be in costume. Slap on some makeup, a wig, and a mask, and no one will have a clue who you are.”
She bit her lip, still not sold. “If I agree, what do I have to do to get in, sign a contract in blood, or give up my firstborn?”
Jules rolled her eyes. “Stop being so dramatic. There’s a simple guest application and a confidentiality agreement. If you want to play, medical clearance is required. I’ll have Colt get the ball rolling.”
“I haven’t said yes yet!”
“You will because I’ll wear you down.” She laughed in the face of her scowl. “Don’t worry. We won’t abandon you to the wolves your first time there.” A wicked glint appeared in her eyes the next moment. “I can’t promise a handsome Dom won’t like your scent and demand a taste. That’s a different scenario and will be solely up to you.”
An image of a hungry, salivating, big bad wolf stalking Red Riding Hood popped into her head. No! her rational mind screamed, but she said, “I’ll give it some thought.”
As she reached for the bottle and refilled their glasses, sliding another lime wedge and the salt shaker her way, Jules shook her head. “Here, maybe communing more with Jose will help convince you to give it a try.”
Using what they learned back at USC, they licked, shot, and sucked lime, finishing by slamming their empty glasses upside down on the counter. Then, after the grimacing and shuddering had passed, their eyes met. And, also like in college, the two girls burst into a fit of giggles.
Chapter 7
Cassie slept in the guest room, Colt putting his foot down when he came home to find them completely shit-faced. A reasonable reaction since they’d consumed a fifth of tequila, not to mention an entire jumbo bag of tortilla chips and a whole thirty-two-ounce jar of queso. It meant she had to get up extra early—while battling a major hangover—drive the thirty minutes to her apartment, shower, change, manage the commute back to the island during rush hour, and still be to work on time.
This left no room for her morning run, not that she felt like it, anyway. She would have to squeeze it in later, however; running was the only thing that kept her from blowing up like a balloon because she liked to eat. Mexican, most of all, which sadly wasn’t part of any diet plan anywhere, and when accompanied by at least two cocktails, usually jumbo size frozen margaritas, brought her day’s end calorie total to astronomical. Thus, she forced herself to tackle at least three miles every day, taking Sunday off only if she didn’t overindulge on Friday and Saturday.
After work, she changed into her running gear and drove north. Sandwiched between the island’s two naval properties, Coronado Village was a quaint little town. With lovely homes and condos—many in the seven-figure price range and those that weren’t, still way beyond her budget—it also had boutiques, mom & pop shops, and picturesque parks. Best of all, since it was on an island, she had her choice of two spectacular views; the San Diego Bay to the east or the Pacific Ocean on the west with the stunning sunset to keep her company either way.
Tonight, she chose the bay side, having a taste for a chai tea latte from the Bay Front Coffee Company when she was done. She pulled into Centennial Park situated right next to the water, then checked the time. An hour run would give her fifteen minutes before they closed.
Getting her heart rate up to a reasonable calorie burning rate, she maintained it while taking a path along the water, sharing it with other joggers, sightseers, dog walkers, bikers, and seagulls all seeming to enjoy yet another unseasonably warm day. When she finished her three-mile circuit and did a ten-minute cooldown, she reached the waterfront boardwalk. Up a few steps was an outdoor seating area in front of the small, but well-known coffee vendor, so popular that at 7:45 at night, there was still a line. As she took her place at the end, she scanned the lights of the city in the distance, noting how they reflected off the water in an array of colors. It was a lovely spot, and she noticed several couples seated at tables for two, taking in the panoramic views together.
While she waited, the tinkling sound of laughter drew her attention. She turned and found the source, a stunning raven-haired woman with a dazzling white smile. When her gaze swept over the tawny-haired man who was making her laugh, Cassie froze. It was Flynn. Leaning in, with a smile on his handsome face, he whispered something—a joke, or something else equally amusing apparently—into her ear. She had pictured him often in a similar scene, but instead of the beauty he was with—whose dark coloring perfectly contrasted his own—Cassie had imagined her blonde head next to his and she’d be the one on the receiving end of his attention.
Staring in disbelief, her sense of loss went beyond pain. Never once had she considered he had a girlfriend. She’d never thought to ask, and he’d never mentioned it. Why would he? While she’d been busy imagining herself as the woman in his arms, he’d never considered it. She took a lurching step back. As she did, Flynn looked up and directly at her. He lifted his chin in greeting, then his hand came up, and he waved her over.
Cassie deliberately misinterpreted and waved back. She turned, chai tea latte forgotten and acted as if she didn’t hear him calling her name, although the deep timbre of his voice cut through the others. Not hesitating for a moment, she hurried down the wooden walking path to her car.
When she was out of sight, she picked up speed as a second wind took hold. Spurred on by devastating disappointment, she made it back to her car in no time, mortified that she’d so shamelessly crushed on a man who had only platonic feelings for her because he was into someone else. What an idiot she was.
In her car, while she pulled out, she had Siri call Jules.
“Hey, girl! What’s up?”
“I’ll do it.”
There was a heartbeat of silence. “Do what?”
“The mixer at the club next weekend. Sign me up.”
Two pulse beats ticked by this time. “Why the sudden change of heart? You sound funny. Did something happen?”
“Yeah, I finally opened my eyes and realized silly romantic fantasies only come true in the movies and romance novels. It’s time I grew up. No matter how painful being an adult may be.”
The next day was Thursday, the day before her standing bi-weekly lunch with Flynn. She waited until mid-morning to call him when she knew he wouldn’t answer because he was conducting dive training and torturing the current group of SEAL wannabes somewhere off the coast. It was a coward’s way of bowing out, though it worked. As expected, she got his voice mail.
“Hey, Flynn, it’s me, Cassie. Sorry for the late cancellation, but I’ll have to take a rain check on lunch tomorrow. I have a conference call with Gary to go over the program one last time. We want to make sure your class will be good to go on Monday. Talk to you soon.”
She lied.
Everything had been checked, double-checked, then run one more time; the program was perfect. But it was a believable reason to cancel, and an excellent excuse to avoid seeing him alone. From now on, she’d make sure others were around, at least until she got over her feelings for him. And she admitted it was love because why else would it hurt so damn bad? She blamed herself, not him, even though all along she’d tried to deny it. But deep down, she’d hoped for something that wasn’t there, and despite Flynn never having given her any words of encouragement, or hinted by action, she imagined the most precious of all emotions could grow from a seed that didn’t exist.
A watery image of him appeared before her eyes. She’d miss him: her lunch partner, her defender, her first on-base friend, but it was too painful. Maybe between now and seeing him on Monday, she would come up with a plausible reason why she was pulling away, although she doubted it. Never a good liar, as a kid her parents had always known, somehow. She wouldn’t fool Flynn either; the man was perceptive. But how did she continue a friendship, as if nothing had changed, with a man she loved so deeply that her heart was in pieces?
Chapter 8
“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” she muttered while tugging on her northward migrating hem for the umpteenth time in the last hour. Cassie squirmed on the cool leather, not because it was uncomfortable against the backs of her thighs, but because it was a constant reminder of what she was about to do. She glared at Jules who sat grinning at her from the front seat.
“Quit fidgeting; you look fantastic.”
“What if someone recognizes me?”
“No one will know who you are in that red wig. Besides, who do you know in LA?”
“We’re not from LA!” she reminded her. “What if I run into someone from the base? I’ll have to quit.”
“Cass, in that get up, you are the farthest thing from the girl genius they work with from day-to-day. Besides, the club has nearly five hundred members. For an event such as tonight, almost all of them will be present. Add in the guests, and we’ll be lucky to find each other, let alone run into someone we know.” She turned to her husband for support of her claim. “Isn’t that right, honey?”
Quiet since they’d pick her up almost two hours ago, Colt looked at her in the rear-view mirror and agreed. “Even after knowing you for ten years, I wouldn’t have guessed it was you. What’s more, of the five thousand Navy personnel at Coronado, I can count on one hand how many are club members, including me. What are the odds of running into them?”
“Less than one percent.”
Jules laughed. “She’s a computer and math whiz, Colt; you had to ask.”
“Will it make you feel better if I tell you two of the five members are on assignment out of the country?”
It did, but only somewhat, as did the fact that in the past six months, working on the same base with Colt, she’d seen him once. Although her interaction with others was limited to those rotating through her lab, which was only a small fraction of the five thousand he’d mentioned. “Tell me how this works again.”
Despite having explained numerous times in the past few days, Jules didn’t complain, and answered, yet again. “The whole point of tonight is to bring in new members, mostly new submissives. Many of our long-time members have married and it’s thrown our available sub to Dom ratio out of whack.”
“Master Eric likes to keep the numbers fairly even,” Colt added.
“Master Eric?”
“The managing partner and the club’s Master Dom.”
“I used to think he was scary,” Jules remarked, “until he collared Val. Now he smiles more than he scowls. I think she has mellowed him a lot.”
Colt chuckled. “Don’t spread that around, either of you. He’ll kick us all to the curb. Being known as a mellow Master would be a major hit to his reputation.”
“I’m not the only one who’s noticed,” she told him as she turned to face forward.
“Let someone else mention it to him then.”
Cassie listened to this back and forth, but not knowing who they spoke of she tried to get them to refocus. “So, tonight, all potential new members are in designated costumes, right?”
“No,” Jules corrected her. “Only those looking for a partner. You’re supposed to find someone to play with who matches your theme for the night. There are four: doctor and nurse, sheik and harem girl, Tarzan and Jane, and yours, which is a pet for some lucky sub-seeking teacher. I was hoping you’d get carried off over some half-naked hunk’s shoulder, but Colt vetoed jungle girl because the outfit was too revealing.”
“I didn’t think you’d be comfortable with any of the other options,” he explained, “at least not on your first visit.”
“I appreciate you watching out for me, but I can’t imagine any of the others being worse than this,” she grumbled, once again pulling at the red and black plaid skirt.
Jules noticed, and issued another warning. “Cassie, stop fidgeting. If you keep that up, you’ll put a hole in it.”
And wouldn’t that be a shame? While shooting a scowl at the back of her friend’s head, she shifted once more, wincing as her movements peeled her thighs off the leather. “I’m sure Jane and the nurse at least get to have their asses covered.”
“Don’t bet on it,” Colt replied. “It’s private and exclusive, but it’s still a sex club, so naturally, the costumes chosen are both revealing and provocative. The nurse’s uniform consisted of a skimpy, figure-hugging white dress, lace garters, and stilettos, sans panties, of course. I saw a picture of it at the last Dom’s meeting. The neckline plunged so low you would have been lucky if the toy stethoscope that came with it covered your nipples. As for Jane of the Jungle, her fur dress was designed intentionally to entice Tarzan.”
“Fur doesn’t sound so bad, at least I’d be warm.”
“Yes, except for your bare feet, exposed legs, and barely covered bottom cheeks. And did I mention only one breast is covered thanks to the sleeveless, one-shoulder style?”
Cassie swallowed. She’d have chickened out if they told her she had to run around with one bared boob poking out her first night—or anything for that matter. “Do I dare ask about the harem girl?”
“Covered, but it pretty much consists of sheer veils, revealing more than they conceal. And they’re detachable, which would have left you ripe for the picking. I believe there were seven in all, and the rule is any Dom who plucks one gets to keep it as a souvenir.
