by BJ Wane
Alessa huffed a laugh as she maneuvered into the same position on her mat. “Don’t try that disinterested attitude with me. Remember, I know you.”
Wishing her best friend didn’t know her so well, Krista folded her knees under her chest, lowered her head to the mat and stretched her arms straight out in front of her, palms flat as she switched to the hare pose. At Alessa’s urging, she’d taken up yoga after they’d met. Six months after Kurt’s death, she sold the house she’d shared with her husband, bought the canal facing bungalow, and the two of them turned the spare bedroom into their private workout space. The meditative exercise had helped ease the painful stress of that decision, and now that she didn’t have a Master, it was something she turned to when she needed balance as well as the passive exercise.
But nothing could replace the peace and contentment submitting gave her, and she wished now she’d never experienced the pleasure of turning over control to one special person. During the last year and a half, she kept telling herself she’d managed to reach the age of twenty-six on her own, got through the days of school and work before coming home to continue making decisions and taking care of herself without anyone to take over for her. Unfortunately, her mind and body continued to crave the perfection of what she once had.
“I don’t know what you mean, Alessa,” she lied. She knew only too well what she was talking about. “I’m sorry I told you about my ménage. You’ve been reading more into that night than was there.” Krista upped the ante by drawing out her right leg straight back again and turning her left until her thigh and calf rested flat on the mat before lying down again with her arms reaching straight out. She welcomed the distracting burn of tautly stretched muscles from the pigeon pose. It also helped to keep her face hidden from Alessa’s shrewd gaze.
“Uh huh. I remember all too well the look on your face when he entered your house after the funeral—as well as his. There’s always been something between you two,” Alessa insisted.
“I never would have cheated on Kurt,” Krista snapped without raising her head. It pissed her off Alessa might think that.
“Quit being so defensive and touchy. I wasn’t saying that and don’t think it. Like I said, I know you, and you’re true almost to a fault. That doesn’t mean you can’t, or don’t, feel a little something extra for someone else. You’re the one who’s always telling me about the special bond the trust required for a Dom/sub relationship develops. Doesn’t that hold true for even a one-night encounter?”
Giving up, Krista rolled onto her butt, sat cross-legged, and placed her hands palm-up on her knees. Closing her eyes, she murmured, “Don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay, I get the hint. We’ll finish our workout, then I’ll grill you some more.”
There had been more times than she could count when Krista had cursed and bemoaned her best friend’s stubborn insistence, but she relished her loyal friendship too much to let it bother her for long. Alessa meant well, and she was the only one who knew of Krista’s true relationship with Kurt and how much she’d loved living as his full-time submissive. After trying, and failing, to coax Alessa into exploring the lifestyle her friend showed signs of interest in, Krista had finally had to admit defeat and give up. Even Kurt had tried, seeing the potential Krista had noticed in the way Alessa clung to everything she related about her life at home. The only thing Krista didn’t know about the person she was now closest to was why she refused to give the possibility of finding fulfillment the same way Krista had. As Kurt had insisted several times, she would’ve been safe with anyone he set her up with, and they would have been right there with her.
Alessa wouldn’t even consider it. It hurt her to see Alessa so unhappy sometimes, especially when she’d had Kurt, but just like Krista didn’t like to be pushed, neither did Lessa. But Krista could use that to steer her away from mentioning Dax again.
“If you do, I’ll start in about you coming with me next weekend to the new club I’ve heard about,” she warned.
“Fine, I’ll let it go,” Alessa was quick to say. “You don’t intend to return to a BDSM club for the first time in what, two and a half, three years, by yourself, do you?”
“Shh, meditating here.” Alessa didn’t need to know she intended to do just that.
“Meditating, my ass. More like evading.”
Krista’s lips curved when Alessa grew quiet—content, she assumed, since she’d gotten the last word in. Concentrating on her routine, she went through the poses, taking her time as she tried to empty her mind of all plaguing thoughts. As usual, that proved to be as futile as wishing she could grow wings. Ever since learning a week ago Dax had returned from his overseas volunteer medical tour, she’d waited for him to call or stop by. He could easily get her number and new address from Alessa since he knew of their friendship. But he hadn’t, his silence resurrecting the pain and anger of him leaving when she’d needed him the most, when he’d known how much support from someone who knew both Kurt and about her needs as a submissive would have meant to her.
It had taken him up and leaving without notice for her to realize how much comfort she’d reaped from his presence at the hospital. His knowledge and approval of her lifestyle had helped ease the uncomfortable sense of living a double life, one she knew others she worked with would condemn or put her down for. She recalled the way Dax would notice when she touched her bare neck with nervous fingers, then wink at her from across the surgery table. His look of understanding would warm her, and worked to ease her tenseness that brought on an ache for the comfort of her snug collar. Small things she hadn’t noted until he’d left.
Krista hardened her heart and her resolve as she rose from the mat and padded into the kitchen, leaving Alessa to finish without her. Not even the bright cheeriness of the light grey cabinets surrounded by lemon-yellow walls and topped with white and grey swirled marble countertops lightened her mood. She loved cooking and liked to spend Sunday afternoons putting together a few dishes for the upcoming week, but today she wanted take-out and some time alone to prepare herself for seeing Dax tomorrow.
The first six months following Kurt’s death, Krista had vacillated between depression brought on by grief, and anger rising from feeling betrayed by both men. Hoping to escape the constant memories, she put the house up for sale and got rid of most of Kurt’s things, including the furniture that had already been in the house when she’d moved in. The only thing she’d brought to her new, much smaller home was his desk, which sat in the great room. It had been an emotionally draining undertaking, but she’d looked upon it as a new start, one that also included working on channeling her needs in a different direction.
Filling two tall glasses with orange juice, she set Alessa’s on the counter then leaned back against it and gazed out the small bay window above the sink, watching a sail boat glide by. The small yard separating her house from the boardwalk and canal offered just enough room to plant a few gardens and give her something she could mow in fifteen minutes. Florida humidity made it too damn uncomfortable for anything more to deal with alone, even if she did miss the privacy and expanse of their large yard.
Last night, Krista had mistakenly assumed she was ready to handle some of her desires on her own and had unearthed a favorite vibrator Kurt liked watching her use. Her failure to achieve orgasm, despite the sparks of pleasure her manipulations produced, added to her piss poor mood today. She hadn’t made the decision to concentrate on herself—for the first time since Kurt had introduced her to the pleasures of servicing a Dom—without giving it a lot of thought. The years of putting her husband’s desires before her own, of catering to his pleasure, had been the most fulfilling, enjoyable time of her life. It had taken finding the right man to show her what had been missing from her previous relationships and why she’d never felt complete for her to finally achieve sexual satisfaction, and it had been headier than she’d ever imagined it could be. Research had led her to try BDSM at a club, and Kurt had swooped in and seen what she hadn’t even kno
wn was possible.
Since last night had proved she still needed a strict partner to not only gain the pleasure she ached to experience again, but to feel the calming stress-relief that went along with submission, Krista could see no option but to return to a club. But before she made a definite decision, she’d try a few more times to take care of herself. Who knew? Maybe the strength she suspected it was going to take to work with Dr. Dax Hayes again would also assist in getting her over this next hurdle in moving on.
“Is that for me?” Alessa nodded toward the glass of juice as she wiped the damp sheen of perspiration from her neck with a small towel.
“Yes. I can whip up an omelet, if you have time.”
“I can spare another hour. Working weekends sucks. I’m looking forward to the next two days off. Call if you want to get together.” Alessa’s tone hardened as she drilled Krista with an accusing glare. “Now, tell me you’re not going to a club alone.”
Pivoting away from her probing gaze, Krista opened the refrigerator, grabbed a carton of eggs, milk, and butter and replied without turning around. “BDSM clubs are safer than night clubs. Doms tend to be overprotective and there are always rules regarding safety protocols. Consequences are usually swift and permanent if someone breaks them, so don’t worry.”
Krista could feel her friend’s eyes boring into her back as she set a frying pan on the stove. Familiar with her kitchen, Alessa started chopping onion and removing the stems from a batch of fresh spinach as she replied. “But you said this is a new club. Chances are, you won’t know anyone or how well they keep it monitored. Why don’t you return to the one you and Kurt were members of? I’m sure they’d welcome you back.”
“The less risk of me running into someone we knew, the easier it’ll be for me to concentrate on getting back into the swing of things.” Turning to face her, Krista urged, “If you want to understand, come with me.”
Like she always did, Alessa tightened her jaw and avoided looking at her when she answered her invitation. “I keep telling you, it’s not my thing.”
“Someday, girlfriend, you’re going to quit lying to me and yourself.” Holding up her hand, gripping a bamboo spatula, Krista gave her a wicked, teasing grin and tried to erase the stricken look in Alessa’s eyes when she swung her head back toward her. “And if you don’t, I might switch to a Domme and give you a taste of this.” She brandished the spatula in an ‘air swat’ and laughed.
“You’re not my type. I go for tall, leggy blondes, not short, curvy brunettes,” Alessa drawled.
“Ha, ha. Let’s eat so you’re not late for work.” Krista cherished her close friendship with Alessa too much to push. Alessa knew she could tell her anything and she wouldn’t judge. Krista could remember as clear as if it were yesterday how hard it had been to take that first step toward exploring a lifestyle most would ridicule or criticize, and respected that Alessa would have to come to her own decision in her own way and time.
Chapter 5
Krista laid the unopened pack of surgical instruments on the cart and rolled it closer to the surgery table as she tried not to think about the doctor she was scheduled to assist in a few minutes. After a sleepless night and a stern lecture to herself before leaving home this morning, she’d thought she had herself under control and could face Dax again with a welcome back smile of indifference. The nervousness responsible for twisting her stomach into knots made her rue waiting so long before finally deciding to seek pleasurable relief for her submissive needs again. She figured she wouldn’t be in this befuddled mess if she’d been in the midst of enjoying the benefits of the lifestyle again before facing the second man who had betrayed her eighteen months ago.
Maybe that was unfair, seeing as a onetime ménage didn’t mean he owed her anything. But it had been more than that, she argued in silence as she continued to ready the room for the heart bypass Dr. Hayes would be performing. There; if she continued to think of him as Dr. Hayes instead of Master Dax, she might be able to get through the long surgery standing across from him without screwing up and jeopardizing her job. All she had to do was not think about the way he’d watch a scene between her and Kurt at the club they both frequented with his arms crossed and jaw taut with some indefinable emotion that caused flutters in her belly. Or how he would greet her at work the following morning with a knowing twinkle in his green eyes that warmed her in places she’d thought were still sated from the previous night’s activities with her Master. Or how both Master Dax and Master Kurt had spent hours tormenting her body, their mouths and hands never idle for long as they drove her to one climax after another until she lay limp as a wet noodle on her husband’s lap by the time Dax let himself out.
Yes, that’s all she had to do, not think about what was, just what is.
After she’d set out all the packs of surgical tools required for heart surgery, Krista opened the one near the operating table she knew would be necessary. With an experienced toss, the shiny instruments scattered onto the sterilized, cloth covered cart without her touching them or dropping any. She padded over to the sink to scrub her hands before gloving up, wanting to be scrubbed in before anyone else entered the room. Unlike a lot of scrub techs who burned out within a few years of working long cases with demanding, sometimes ill-tempered surgeons, she still loved the mental and physical challenge of some cases, and still found the workings of the human body fascinating, if not somewhat mind-boggling.
That was why she hadn’t given her answer to the offer of a supervisor’s position to the head of the OR yet. As one of the bosses, she would only assist when they were short-handed, and she wasn’t sure she’d enjoy spending most of her eight-hour shift ‘babysitting’ the other scrubs, running interference and sitting at a desk doing scheduling. Krista supposed she’d have accepted the promotion without hesitation if she’d needed the extra income, but Kurt had been a successful surgeon for over twenty years and left her more than comfortable.
A pang poked at her heart, the small grip that now accompanied thoughts of her husband a far cry from the excruciating twist she’d lived with that first year. Instead of bringing her to tears, she found comfort in fond memories and, just recently, could look at pictures of the two of them without wanting to curl into a ball of aching loss and loneliness. But she still couldn’t bring herself to forgive him for leaving her months before he had to. Maybe it had been selfish of her to expect him to put her needs above the painful struggle of his disease, but she couldn’t help believing if she had been the one stricken with such a diagnosis, he would have moved heaven and earth to keep her with him as long as possible.
Voices nearing the surgery room filtered through the swinging doors and one deep baritone sent a shiver of awareness dancing under Krista’s suddenly tight skin. She turned just as Dax pushed through them and her first thought was that nothing had changed. He still towered over her, his coal black hair still curled around his ears and nape, and those penetrating green eyes set in a tanned, chiseled face could still draw a quick, heated response from her. She wasn’t sure she could lay claim to being female if her heart rate didn’t pick up speed or she didn’t go slightly damp when Dr. Dax Hayes walked into a room.
He left without a word for a year and a half. The reminder helped her to believe that instant response meant nothing nor changed a thing. Inhaling until she couldn’t hold any more air in her lungs, she nodded and managed a small smile of welcome.
“Dr. Hayes. It’s good to have you back again.”
Crap. Krista had been about to congratulate herself on managing a cool but friendly greeting when he fisted those large hands on his lean hips and cocked his head. His bland, generic reply belied his intense regard that turned the butterflies of unwanted pleasure in her stomach to jitters of long neglected need.
“It’s nice to be back. How have you been, Krista?”
So proper and reserved from a man whose cock she’d had in her mouth. “Good. You?” she returned just as detached, her heart aching for the easy fr
iendship they’d shared before both he and Kurt had deserted her. She felt as lost and alone in this moment of stiff formality as she had at her husband’s funeral.
He stiffened and gazed at her for another silent moment, as if he too found this initial meeting disappointing. “Better, now that I’m stateside again. Let’s just say my tour reinforced how lucky we are as opposed to some parts of the world.” Dax stepped forward, his eyes softening as he said, “Krista, I—”
The resident and nurse entered and he clamped his mouth shut, yanking his eyes off her with an abruptness that allowed Krista to release her pent-up breath.
“Dr. Hayes, it’s so good to have you back,” Marybeth gushed. The head operating room nurse carried a reputation for sleeping with any doctor she could entice into an affair, and she wasn’t picky. Watching the tall blonde lay her hand on Dax’s arm and gaze up at him with an obvious look of interest turned Krista’s stomach.
“Thank you, Marybeth. It’s good to see both old and new faces again.” Switching to professional mode, he focused his undivided attention on his patient who was being wheeled in. It surprised Krista how much she wanted to know what he’d been about to say before the nurse interrupted him, and how much she yearned to lean against that rock-hard, solid body and feel the comfort of his arms. That unexpected craving left her shaken, more so because she couldn’t determine whether it stemmed from months of loneliness and struggling to cope without her Master, from missing Dax and the light-hearted friendship they shared before he left, or from the sudden resurrection of her suppressed desires.
If Krista needed any more proof she was ready to return to the lifestyle she’d benefitted so much from with Kurt, she got it over the next hour. While she’d always felt drawn to Dax because, she assumed, of his dominant personality, she couldn’t recall ever having so much trouble focusing on her job as he stood across from her. Every time he glanced up from Mr. Carmichael’s chest and pinned her with his laser-sharp, intent eyes, she quivered inside and had difficulty swallowing. Her buttocks clenched when he scowled as she reached for the wrong instrument, her hasty correction drawing his questioning gaze. If this kept up, she may have to hit the club before the weekend.