Strictly Pleasure: Hooded Pleasures, Book 2

by Sheryl Nantus

Mentally he made a note to courier one over as soon as he finished up here.

  “Maybe, you know—if you can spare a copy.” She looked down at the file and cleared her throat, ending the social aspect of their meeting. “I called you in today because I wanted to talk to you about a special case.”

  Oliver pursed his lips. “I’ve already got two clients. And I’m very happy with them.”

  “And they are thrilled with you,” Wendy said. “Charlotte especially, given she keeps dropping you tips.”

  “She’s come a long way from when we started. I’d say she’s about ready to graduate to going to a club.” He smiled as he brought up her image in his mind’s eye.

  The busty redhead had been a lovely surprise to work with, her early inhibitions giving way to an enthusiastic woman any Dom would be proud to collar.

  Oliver cleared his throat, banishing the vision. “I think she’ll be moving on within the month. She’s at the point where she’s considering where to tender her membership.”

  “Linda’s close to leaving as well.” Wendy opened up the folder. “She called earlier this week and said she’s moving to New York. We’re going to provide her with references to some good clubs and private Doms.” She looked up. “Sorry.”

  “Nothing for any of us to be sorry for. It’s a great opportunity for her, and I’m glad she’s taking it,” Oliver said. “She got a promotion at her firm, up to the big leagues, which is why she’s moving. I’m glad for her—she’s worked hard for it.” He recalled the slender lawyer who was a terror in her office on the clock and a lovely submissive on her knees after hours.

  “And that leaves you with no one.” Wendy leaned back in the chair.

  “I’m not—” He paused. “I was thinking of leaving HP once my current roster was finished.”

  “I see.” She closed the folder. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Oliver said. “I’ve enjoyed working here, helping people. But I believe I’m ready to go back to the clubs and start socializing again.”

  Melissa.

  He felt the familiar pinch in his heart, in his soul. Three years, and it still felt like yesterday.

  Wendy paused for a few seconds before speaking. “Are you sure? You know we’re not going to push you out of the nest if you’re not ready.”

  Oliver couldn’t help smiling at the mental image. “I’m ready to fly again. Mel—” He looked down at the finger where his wedding band used to sit. “I’ll always miss her.”

  The sigh came without warning, pushing the breath from his lungs.

  Always.

  “We talked about this sort of thing once. Years ago when we made up our wills, discussing who would get what and all that stuff. She told me if anything happened to her to grieve her passing and then move on. I told her if I died, I’d want her to enter a convent.” He chuckled at the memory.

  Wendy smiled. “Evan and I have that conversation about once a month usually when I’m annoyed at him. But then I realize how hard it’d be to train a new husband and—” She gave an exaggerated eye roll.

  Oliver nodded. “I didn’t think anything of our chat until—” He waved his hand in the air. “It’s been a few years, and I think it’s time for me to start living again. I’ll probably start with visiting the clubs once a week and sitting at the bar, getting up to speed.”

  Small steps.

  It’ll be hard going back alone—but it’s time.

  “Don’t worry about catching up on gossip. You’ll be fine. It’s not the years, it’s the mileage.” Wendy nodded. “I’m glad we were able to help you through a rough patch.” She put her palm down on the folder. “I don’t mean to pry, but are you going to look for a permanent partner or just a ‘friend’? I can help you with either choice—I’m at Boots ’n’ Chains two times a week, if not more. Give you some references and maybe set you up, if you’d like.”

  Oliver pressed his lips into a tight line, considering his answer. “I’m not interested in just casual sex.” He swept his hand over the table. “I know I can go into any club and find a woman, put her on her knees and give her pleasure while taking my own. But I don’t want that. I want to find a woman who can stand on her own when she needs to and can kneel to me when she wants to. That’ll have to be inside and outside of the club atmosphere.” He smiled, hearing his own words. “But that’s for the future. I guess it sounds pretty complicated.”

  Wendy laughed. “I find life generally is.”

  “Let me get back to you on the referrals. I’m not much on blind dates.” His attention went to the folder, his curiosity piqued. “But that’s not why you called.”

  Wendy pushed the dark blue folder around with one finger. “We have a new client. A Domme who needs a bit of training.”

  Oliver frowned. “I’d think you could do that here. The classes are very thorough.”

  He’d attended a few at the start of his employment and had learned a few new tricks. The small classes allowed discussion and practice, something he’d enjoyed.

  “True. But this is a bit different. She doesn’t need any more instruction on being a Domme. She’s been reprimanded for abusing her submissives. Repeatedly.”

  “Then she should be tossed out on her ear,” Oliver answered. “Problem solved. Either she’ll figure it out, or she’ll have no one to be with.”

  Wendy nodded. “I agree. She’s been banned from all the clubs except Boots ’n’ Chains, and now she’s pushed Matthew into a corner with her most recent incident.” She opened the folder. “He seems to think she’s redeemable. I’ve trusted him before, and he’s been a good judge of character. We talked it out and came up with a short-term contract that might be the answer.”

  Oliver fidgeted in his chair. “Let him work with her, then. She can’t be that stupid not to understand what the consequences are when you’re not in tune with your partner. And if she is and it’s still not working, then she deserves everything she gets.”

  “He can’t. In the first place, he’s a submissive and there’s no way in hell she’s going to listen to him in any other capacity other than as the club manager. And his own Domme won’t let him, so that’s not an option.” Wendy slowly pushed the folder across the table to rest in front of him. “He thinks she needs to experience life as a submissive in order to become a better Domme. Walking on the other side might give her more appreciation and temper her attitude. Or, and this is only on his gut feeling, she’s a submissive deep inside and needs help to embrace her inner nature. Either way, he’s willing to pay HP to alleviate the situation.”

  “Why? What’s his stake in this?” Oliver couldn’t help but be drawn to look at the color picture clipped to the inside paper. “Is she someone important, someone who the club can’t do without?”

  The redhead winked slyly at the photographer with a trace of a laugh on her lips.

  Interesting.

  He couldn’t look away. There was something about her eyes, something daring him to look deeper.

  Challenging him.

  “He’s a romantic. Along with his Domme. Along with myself and Evan.” Wendy smiled. “I’ve run into Veronica a few times at the club. She’s got something wrong with her wiring. I can see it.” A wistful look replaced her smile. “If you’re not honest with yourself, how can you be honest with those around you? We’re willing to work with Matthew to help her get her head on straight because our community needs to try to help each other when it can. We’ve got enough enemies out there.”

  “So instead of booting her ass, you’re going to rehabilitate it?” Oliver shook his head. “If she’s as much trouble as you say, it’s going to be tough for her to even admit she’s got a problem, much less accept help for it.”

  “This is her last chance, and she knows it. After this, we’re all willing to cut her loose.” Wendy pressed on. “I was thinking she’d be
right for you. One last assignment before you leave us and move on.”

  “Why?” The words came out harsher than he’d expected. “Why me?”

  “Because I trust you and your instincts.”

  Whoa.

  Didn’t see that coming.

  Wendy began to walk around the room. “This is a unique situation, and I believe we need a unique individual to deal with it.” She paused and looked back. “Have you ever wondered where we find our employees?”

  He shrugged. “Never thought about it.”

  “We find them in a variety of situations, in a bad spot of their lives. They need what we can give them and, in exchange, help those who need help with the most private part of themselves. You were honest from the start when you approached us—what you wanted and what you needed.” She paused and ran her fingertips across the varnished wood. “After your loss.”

  Oliver swallowed hard. “I couldn’t deny that part of myself forever. You gave me an outlet where I could be happy while helping others without the emotional entanglements.”

  She continued. “You’re one of the most levelheaded men I’ve met. If anyone can show Veronica what the interaction between a Dom and a Sub is all about, it would be you.”

  “And if I decline?” Oliver said. “Who gets her then?”

  “No one. I won’t put anyone else in her line of fire.” Wendy looked directly at him. “I won’t sugarcoat it. She’s going to be pissed and angry and spitting mad. But there’s no one else I think can handle it. If you say no, I’ll tell Matthew we’re not up to the job, and he’ll send her on her way.”

  “She’ll be banned from the club and have no place to go.”

  Wendy gave a noncommittal shrug. “There’s always the underground venues, the places that aren’t as careful as the private clubs you and I frequent.”

  “That won’t be good for her,” Oliver said. “I’ve heard about these places. Unsafe and ugly doesn’t begin to describe them.”

  “Place of last resort,” Wendy answered. “If she needs to play that badly and that roughly, she’ll have to go there and reap the consequences.”

  Oliver turned his head to one side and studied the wall.

  She needs help.

  How can you refuse that?

  “Okay. I’ll take this one.” He lifted a finger. “But it’s the last assignment for me. No more.”

  “Understood,” she said.

  Oliver saw in her eyes that she did.

  “Okay. How long do I have?”

  “Six weeks, six sessions. Two hours each.”

  “What?” If his eyes could have shot out like a cartoon character’s, they would have. “That’s nothing. I’m not starting from scratch with someone with no knowledge of the scene. It’s almost a case of deprogramming her, it’s—” He mentally started to draw up schedules and plans. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

  “Six weeks is all Matthew and Evelyn could afford,” Wendy confessed. “Hooded Pleasures is still, after all, a business. I’ve given them the best rate I could.”

  “And if I forgo my fees?” he said.

  Wendy’s eyebrows rose at the offer. “Maybe two more sessions.” She ran her fingers over the folder. “It’s not just the money—it’s a case of seeing if she’s open to change. You can lead her to water, but if she’d rather die of thirst than go on her knees, it doesn’t make a difference if you have her for two months or a year. Some people are beyond saving. I don’t think she is, and I hope to hell all our efforts aren’t in vain.” She spun the folder around. “If she finishes the sessions and still needs help, Matthew can find her someone at the club, a Dom who doesn’t mind assisting with the re-education you’ve started. But if she’s bound and determined to keep making mistakes and hurting people, there’s nothing any of us can do for her.”

  “Okay,” Oliver said. “It’s obvious I’ll have to do things differently with her. She’s being forced to see me. She’s not going to be open to the usual routines, the usual methods.” He spoke out loud, verbalizing his thoughts. “Especially if she’s got her mind set against it.”

  “I’ll leave it to you to decide if she’s worth the continued effort or not.” Wendy shook her head. “Matthew’s caught between a rock and a hard place. He feels sorry for her as a submissive, but as a manager, he can’t afford to have her running rampant and upsetting the club patrons. That’s why I thought you’d be right for the job,” Wendy replied. “You’re her last best chance of finding what she needs, what she wants.”

  “Why me?” Oliver tapped his chest. “What in your mind makes me the right Dom for her?”

  Wendy tilted her head to the side and studied him for a second before responding. “Put it down to a feeling. I think now is the right time for this. For both of you.”

  He allowed him another ten seconds to let the matter percolate in his mind.

  Wendy waited.

  She needs someone.

  You have to help her.

  The last thought was the most sobering.

  Melissa would want you to.

  Because everyone deserves a last chance to find love.

  “All right.” He faced Wendy. “But I reserve the right to call it off if I think she’s unredeemable.”

  “Agreed.” Wendy nodded. “Thank you. I’ll make the arrangements and send you the contact information. I’ll also include the form we need signed to complete the deal. As soon as Matthew gets it, he’ll pull her suspension and return her to full member.” She gestured at the file. “Keep it. It’s got her club membership information forms.”

  Oliver looked at the photo one more time.

  Veronica Locksley.

  Her eyes were as blue as the sea and as deep, a trace of sadness drowning out the cheerful image he had originally seen.

  He unclipped the photograph and slipped it into his shirt pocket.

  Wendy’s eyebrows rose, but she said nothing.

  You’re a romantic fool, he imagined Melissa saying. But the world needs more romantic fools.

  Sometimes he thought his heart would burst from the void she’d left inside.

  Chapter Two

  Veronica slammed the door so hard, she swore she heard the hinges groan with pain. She did hear her neighbor’s curse from downstairs, the grumpy old man she rented the upstairs from preparing to deliver another sermon on how he needed peace and quiet.

  Don’t rent the apartment to anyone under forty, then, Pops.

  She’d been in the mood for a little fun, so she’d visited one of her regular clubs, hoping they’d removed her ban. She hadn’t been there for a few weeks and figured they might have forgiven and forgotten.

  No such luck.

  The bouncers had grinned as they turned her away, relishing their experience as she waved at the taxi she’d just gotten out of, frantically trying to get his attention so he could turn around and take her away before anyone else saw her embarrassing attempt to gain admittance.

  Same with the second club.

  The third was the one she’d been escorted out of a day ago.

  When she’d arrived at the doorstep of Boots ’n’ Chains, she’d hoped Matthew had been kidding about the entire HP thing and everything was as it’d been before. She’d go to his office and grovel and promise to behave herself, and he’d give her the gold bracelet again and let her loose on the floor.

  No such luck.

  The idiot doormen had the nerve to stand there, arms crossed, and offer to call her another taxi.

  Damn.

  She tossed the keys in a plastic bowl sitting on the rickety table under the coatrack and hung up her leather jacket on one of the wooden pegs nailed to the wall.

  How dare he—

  She pulled off the red wig and tossed it into her bedroom as she headed for the kitchen.

  That son of a bi
tch Matthew. I should have put him on his knees right there in his bloody office. Damned dirty sub.

  The whiskey bottle was right where it should have been beside the boxes of oversweetened breakfast cereal and instant oatmeal.

  The bastard wants me to go through with this game. And if I don’t, he won’t let me back in the front door. Ever.

  She suppressed a shudder as she grabbed a juice glass out of the other cupboard and poured out an inch of alcohol.

  Me. A sub.

  A few steps brought her to the lumpy couch filling up the majority of her living room, the large-screen television being the big investment in her household. Running her hand through her short blonde hair, Veronica plopped herself down and took a long sip. The blinking light on her answering machine signaled a waiting message, but she couldn’t get up the enthusiasm to see who was bothering her on a Sunday night. It’d been there when she’d gotten home from work, but all she wanted was to get out to a club and get her game on, so she’d left it unanswered.

  If it was work, they’d call her on her cell phone, as her private line was only for management.

  Since it was on her landline, she ignored it.

  Damned telemarketer.

  Veronica shifted on the couch, trying to find a solution to her problem that didn’t involve any Dom-for-hire.

  She was at a loss to find one.

  Bloody hell.

  I’ve gotten myself into it now.

  She resisted the urge to look over at the family portrait hanging on the wall between two abstract paintings she’d picked up from the art fair a few years ago.

  Mom—

  I miss you so much.

  Veronica gave in and stared at the image, trying hard not to replace it with her last memory.

  This picture was so much better.

  Her vibrant smile, the blonde curls framing her always-too-thin face before her body had been ravaged by disease.

  Veronica reached up and twirled a lock of her own hair around her finger.

  Mom would tell me to suck it up and keep on going. ’Cause quitters never get anywhere.

  She forced herself to move away from thinking about her personal issues and back to business.