by Cara Adams
Now alone, Ryia had developed her own style. She wore long, flowing, ankle-length skirts in fall colors, and teamed them with soft, silky shirts in the summer and fleecy warm sweaters in the winter. She wore sturdy boots in winter that kept her feet cozy and dry, cool flip-flops in the summer, and comfortable athletic shoes when she knew she’d be on her feet walking around all day.
At first, she’d suffered from dreadful pangs of guilt each time she bought something for herself, constantly hearing Miles’s accusing voice in her head, railing at how ugly, and useless, and unworthy she was. But she’d forced herself to repeat over and over again that the money she was spending was her own. It had always been her own, not his.
I am not useless. I am not completely stupid. My store is a success now, and it will be an even bigger success as I learn more and more about the industry. I will support myself and I will be happy.
Ryia hurried through the store to her tiny office and picked up the brochure lying in the center of her desk. She’d been trying to decide about this conference for a week now, and today was the last day to sign up for it at the early bird discount rate. So today was her deadline. Would she go or not?
New Directions in the Adult Industry was a live-in, three-day conference in Richmond, a city of several million people where she now lived. One major problem of going to the conference was that she ran her store alone, so she’d have to close it for those three days. This, in turn, meant that on top of her having to pay the costs of the hotel fees and conference registration would be added the loss of income due to not doing business for those three days. She could ameliorate that to some extent by putting a sign on her store door and on her website about the coming closure. She could e-mail her regular business clients as well so they could place their orders early, but she would still lose some customers, and she’d worked so hard to build up clients the risk of losing even one was a very scary thought to deal with. She was a very new newbie to this industry and her clients could easily find other stores to visit.
Miles had told her endlessly that she was stupid. However, she wasn’t so stupid as to not know that the only way her business would be an ongoing success was if she continued to grow and develop it to fulfill the needs of the community. And the only way she could know what new trends and developments were emerging was to attend conferences or workshops such as this one.
The beauty of this conference was that it was being held right here in Richmond. If taking three days off was going to lose her some clients, having to travel halfway across the continent to attend a convention somewhere else would lose her even more clients and cost her a passel more in airfares as well.
No, this was a necessary step she had to take. Ryia had already spent several months web-surfing to try to find an online means of learning more about her market. But there seemed to be very little available, apart from discussions of the porn industry, or actual companies that made or developed toys and were displaying them for sale at trade shows. Ryia was concerned that if she went to a conference sponsored by the markers of adult toys there could be pressure, even if it was only her own innate good manners, to buy their products. She really just wanted the knowledge about trends, not just new products right now.
I’ll do it. I’ll go to the New Directions in the Adult Industry conference and I’ll buy some new clothes to wear as well. So fuck you, Miles!
* * * *
Asher Roberts, head chef at The Dom’s Dungeon BDSM club, waved a brochure under the nose of his friend, senior security officer Elijah Deakin. “I’m about to go online and sign us both up for this conference, okay?”
“Sure, fine, whatever.”
“Give me your credit card so I can pay for us.”
“What?” Elijah turned from the ballgame on TV to stare at Asher. “Why do I have to pay for us?”
“Because you’re the wolf.”
“What’s that got to do with it?”
Asher grinned at Elijah. At least the man was listening to him now. He sometimes wondered if the wolf heard a word he said. “One. We haven’t found a woman we both like yet.”
“And?”
“Two. We want someone who’s interested in the BDSM lifestyle.”
“So?”
“Three. Where better to find one than at a conference like this?”
“I’m pretty sure your logic is full of holes but I agreed to go when you first mentioned it, so I’ll pay up and we’ll go. Have you asked for time off for both of us yet?”
“I mentioned the conference to Leif. He seemed to think it would be doable. We’re both replaceable. You’re head of security at the club but there are other men who are used to leading the security teams. The same for me. I’m the head chef but really, the other chefs can manage without me for a few days. Besides, I truly believe we have a chance of finding ourselves a mate here. Hopefully someone who won’t freak out when you go all toothy and furry.”
Asher watched as Elijah paused the TV. “Don’t get your hopes up too high. There’s no guarantee some hot chick will fall into our arms. I mean, I know Leif and Simon hooked up with Tamara at a wedding, but three days isn’t all that long and likely we’ll be spending most of our time in workshops learning about stuff.”
Asher leaned over the back of the couch. “I know. I actually want to go to some of these sessions. I reckon we can both learn a lot to help the Dungeon stay at the forefront of our industry. But I also want to find our woman. Ever since I turned thirty I’ve felt that it’s time to settle down, you know?” Asher couldn’t completely explain his feelings, but it was almost as if thirty was some kind of doorway. He’d walked through it, and now he needed to get on with the rest of his life.
Elijah punched his shoulder. “I understand. Likely I’ll feel the same after my next birthday. We both have good jobs, and a nice home, so I totally agree it’s time to find the right woman and be a family. But just because a female is at the conference, it doesn’t mean she wants to be our sub or that she’ll accept a werewolf shape-shifter, you know.”
Asher sighed. “Yeah, I do know. But at least the whole concept of BDSM shouldn’t frighten her away. And hell, if Leif can do it we can, too. There’ll be what, maybe four hundred people there? Half of them women. We only need one to like us after all. How hard can that be?”
Asher ignored Elijah’s shaking head and dropped down onto the couch beside his friend, picking up his iPad off the coffee table. He swiped through a few screens and typed in the website for the conference. They were going and they would find themselves a mate. Done deal.
* * * *
Two weeks later Elijah kicked the hotel room door shut behind himself as he wheeled his suitcase into their room. He flicked on the lights and stared. “How much did this fucking cost me?”
“We can’t romance our mate in a poky little cheap room,” argued Asher.
“Fucking hell. I hope there’s enough money in my account to cover this. I really don’t need to still be paying it off next year.” The huge glass windows had a panoramic view out over the city. The room was way bigger than he’d expected, with plenty of space to move around in despite the two king-size beds. He hurried into the en suite bathroom and it was as bad as he’d feared. There were two sinks, a toilet, an enormous shower, and a fucking Jacuzzi in there.
“How much, Asher? How fucking much is this fucking costing me?”
Asher pushed past him and looked in the bathroom. “Chill, bro. You can’t put a price on finding a mate. We’re here to learn about our job, yes. But mostly we’re here to find us a woman. A woman who accepts shape-shifters, and BDSM, and ménages. There aren’t a lot of women like that around, so suck it up, bro, and we’ll give this our best shot.”
Elijah shook his head and dropped his ass down on the side of the Jacuzzi. Asher was right, as usual. They needed to find their mate. A woman who would accept them both. But yeah, being realistic, he was the wolf and he was therefore a bigger problem than just being a Dom, which they both were. Pe
ople didn’t believe in shape-shifters. Or if they did, they thought they were evil, frightening beasts, and wanted nothing to do with them. Yeah. He was the problem. He did need to suck it up. However…
“You’re paying for all our meals. And tips. Every night, no make that every single meal, we’ll find ourselves a nice, hot chick and wine and dine her, and you’re paying for it, okay?”
“Deal.”
Asher left the bathroom and stretched out on one of the beds, so Elijah sat on the other one. He took out the conference folders they’d been given when they’d signed in downstairs and been given their conference lanyards to wear.
“So, how do you want to do this? Should we go to different workshop sessions so we can double our chances of finding our woman, or would you prefer that we stay together so we can be sure we’re both attracted to the same woman. I mean, what’s going to happen if we decide on different women?” They agreed on so many things, Elijah hadn’t seriously thought about it before. But if they wanted different women? Should they divide up and both go after the one who appealed to them? Would that double their chances of getting a mate, or just ruin their friendship and working relationship with each other?
“Hmm. Let me think. Let’s not jump to conclusions. Why don’t we each go through the program and mark what we’d choose to do ourselves, and then compare the lists. Let’s not buy trouble we might never meet.”
“Good plan.” Elijah took the pen they’d been given in their conference bag and opened the schedule. Silently he read through it all again. He’d mentally picked out some sessions he wanted to go to before they’d even decided to come. A couple of the sessions sounded like they’d have exactly the kind of information to really help the club become even more profitable and appealing to clients. He hadn’t agreed to come until he was sure it wouldn’t be a waste of time or money. It was only when Asher began talking about a mate that he’d realized so much more was possible from this convention than just success in his career.
Half an hour later they’d both discussed the program and worked out who would do what.
“You know, considering we’re so very different, it’s amazing how much we think alike. Logically, a chef and a security guard, a human and a wolf, would be expected to pick just about everything different from each other. Yet there’s only twice out of the whole conference where we plan to go to different workshops.”
“Yeah, and neither of us want to go to any session at all straight after lunch on Sunday. That’s a bit weird. They seem like good speakers, but nothing rings my bell,” said Asher.
“Yeah, well, let’s keep our options open there. Maybe by then we’ll have found Ms. Right and we can join in on whatever she planned to do,” he suggested.
He leaned back on the bed and pictured his dream woman. Asher had blond hair and his was a dirty blond, so the perfect woman for them would have black hair. Long, black hair so he could tug on it as she sucked his dick, or wrap his fist in it as he fucked her from behind. Or better yet, fucked her ass. Oh, yeah, long black hair would be ideal.
What about her body? Not stick-thin. He wanted to be able to hold her without getting bruises on himself from her sticking out bones. But not fat either. He wanted to be able to pick her up in his arms and carry her, or fuck her against a wall. After all, The Dom’s Dungeon BDSM club had an entire basement full of dungeons and he needed a woman who would be fit and strong enough for energetic play in those dungeons.
He was just about to unzip his jeans and stroke his dick, which was getting hard from all his thoughts, when Asher punched his shoulder. “We’re wasting time. Let’s go look around. The exhibition stands are already up. Maybe one of the chicks there is the one we’re looking for.”
Elijah groaned and rearranged his equipment. He pulled his lanyard out of his conference bag and hung it around his neck, which he noticed Asher had already done. He checked his room card was in his wallet, and that the wallet and cell phone were tucked in the front pockets of his jeans, and then followed Asher out of the room.
Ah, fuck. I hope we can find our mate here. I really do want to be a family.
Chapter Two
Ryia was glad she hadn’t put her stilettos on. Her new, jewel-toned skirt was floor length so she’d decided no one would notice her comfortable sandals because they were basically hidden under the skirt. It wasn’t in colors she normally wore, but it was so pretty she hadn’t been able to resist buying it. The skirt had a creamy background, and she’d teamed it with a creamy silk shirt. But splattered over the cream background like paint splotches, were bright blobs and swirls of reds, pinks, blues, and lilacs.
The exhibition hall was huge. She’d known there’d be maybe four hundred people at the convention, and therefore the main meeting room would be big, but it’d never occurred to her that there would be so many displays by companies and organizations. That was one thing to remember for the next convention. She could hire a stall and be an exhibitor herself in the future maybe.
Meanwhile, she walked around the hall, stopping and looking at every single stand and display. She held her convention program in her hand, along with a pen, and she rated each display as to whether or not she wanted to come back and look at it in more detail, and whether there were things she could learn from it. One meant she wouldn’t be back, two meant she wanted to look at their stock, three for coming back to look at their design or technique, and four for both.
Ryia collected business cards as she looked, noting on the back of them if there were items she was interested in. One stall had scented nail polish. That was something she wanted to add to her store. Some people hated the smell of acetone. Scented nail polish was not only pretty, but also functional. Besides, she wouldn’t mind wearing it herself.
By the time she’d visited every display in the room, her feet were aching. That’s ridiculous. I spent most of my day on my feet. Well, it might be ridiculous but it was also true. She dropped the brochure and pen into her convention satchel, and walked outside the room to the table with water and cookies in the hallway. There were also a few chairs out here, but all were occupied. However, some people were sitting on the carpet. She was tired enough to copy them. She grabbed a bottle of a water and a cookie, mentally flipping the bird at Miles, who would never have permitted her to eat a cookie or to sit on the floor, and then settled herself against the wall next to a couple of other women roughly her age.
She crossed her legs, tucking them out of the way and making sure her beautiful new skirt wouldn’t get stomped on by passersby, and then sipped her water with enjoyment.
The woman next to her smiled and said, “Hi, I’m Phoenix. What brings you to the conference?”
“I’m Ryia. I own an adult store, Paddle My Ass. I just wanted to find out what was happening in the industry.”
“Me, too. I work for an erotic romance publisher. We’re always keen to know the latest trends.”
Just then, an incredibly handsome man with longish, floppy blond hair and bright blue eyes bent down, holding out a hand to her and to Phoenix. “Ladies, my friend has liberated some chairs from another room. Why don’t you come join us?”
“Chairs? Hell yes, my feet hurt.” Phoenix jumped up, so Ryia scrambled to her feet as well, ignoring the blond’s outstretched hand.
He guided them along the hallway to where a tall, muscular man was guarding a stack of four chairs. As they arrived, the other man separated the chair tower and set up each chair, forming a circle but right against the wall so as to be out of people’s way.
Phoenix sank into the nearest chair and kicked her shoes off, wiggling her toes. “Damn, that feels better. Thank you.”
The muscular man with very short hair was back, holding the plate of cookies. Phoenix took one, biting into it and smiling at him. But resolutely Ryia shook her head imagining what they’d think of the fat woman eating cookies.
“Please take one.” The man was smiling at her.
Ryia blushed and shook her head again. “I’
ve already eaten one, thank you.”
“So have I, but don’t let that worry you. At an event like this they won’t have counted out one cookie per person,” said Phoenix.
Ryia was grateful to her for not pointing out how overweight Ryia was but she still declined to take a second cookie. Although Miles had been out of her life for four years now, it was much harder to erase the sound of his voice in her head, constantly abusing her for eating his food, when she was so fat already. At one stage, he’d even threatened to send her to hospital and have her jaw wired shut until her weight had dropped below ninety pounds. She’d lived in fear of that threat for months, and had managed to lose ten pounds by eating almost nothing at all, but her weight was still at least twenty pounds higher than it should be. And those pounds were mostly on her thighs and ass where everyone could see them. She’d also taken the time more recently to learn what her ideal weight should be, and it was a hell of lot more than ninety pounds for five foot two.
“I’m Phoenix and this is Maria. Thanks for getting the chairs for us. What part of the industry do you both work in?”
Ryia wanted to explain that her name was Ryia, not Maria, but the conversation had already moved on and the opportunity was lost.
The blond said, “I’m Asher and this is Elijah. We both work at The Dom’s Dungeon BDSM Club. We’re always interested in the latest news in our field. What about you?”
“I work for an erotic romance publisher. Have you got a business card with you? We hold a convention ourselves every few years and we’re always looking for new places to take our authors and readers.”