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 conviction as possible, although if push came to shove, she'd pick Ron's feelings over anyone else's. He was in her blood like the worst virus or mutated gene, hanging in and wreaking havoc on everything.

Her love-hate relationship with Ron was completely out of her control. "Thank you. What about David?" "What about him?" "Does he know who I really am?" "Absolutely not!" "I think David is a really nice man, Jenna, although I question how such a nice person could give up his grandchild and never look back. Why did he do it? Everything about him contradicts my first impression of a cold and heartless individual." "You're right. He's not cold or heartless." "Then why?" "I don't know." Jenna reached to pick up her iced tea, and the glass slipped out of her hand, landing on the table with a thud as it tipped over, spilling the tea

everywhere. “Christ!” Scott exclaimed, moving out of the way to avoid getting soaked. Jenna stood quickly and began to sop up the area with her napkin. “I'm so sorry." "You seem to be all thumbs today." "I know!" Scott looked at her pointedly and said, “Are you on anything now?" "I told you. I take herbs to calm me down." "Huh...." "Don't start,” Jenna spat out. “You are not my keeper." "Precisely,” Scott intoned, “and I have no intention of ever being that. You and Ron can fend for yourselves.” Scott stood, threw some money on the table, and walked away from the small coffee shop. He took his time going back to the parking lot,

troubled by Jenna's obvious deterioration. She wasn't the woman he'd met a year ago. That woman was confident and bossy, comfortable in her skin and her place in Ron Morris's practice. The Jenna he had just left was shaky and even a little spastic, almost like a person with a drug habit. He tried to think back on her performance while he was under Ron's umbrella, and he couldn't come up with one incident that would give him a clue on her new behavior. He turned to enter the parking garage but stopped, surprised by the vision of Robin in a tight embrace with some guy he remembered seeing as a patient. They were greeting each other in an all-too-familiar way, and Scott stood there gawking, trying to get his brain to process what he was seeing. Scott couldn't remember the man's name, but he certainly remembered what he looked like. Who wouldn't? He was a gorgeous brunet with a body that screamed Bowflex. Hot was an understatement, and he and Robin were deep in discussion about something. Scott ducked into the building, refusing to confront Robin. He was pretty sure this wasn't

anything to worry about, and he wasn't going to act like a jealous wife. He'd wait until Robin explained. He was confident that he'd tell him about it as soon as he got home. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-Two Susie cried out as she climaxed, shuddering through the delicious waves of pleasure that coursed throughout her body. Adrian had submitted beautifully, proving once again that they were a perfect match. She tried to tell herself this was a fluke, but the more she saw him, the more she realized they shared a common kink that made this relationship beneficial for both of them. He enjoyed being tied up, and she loved doing it. The first time it had happened, she'd bound him mercilessly, having learned the more intricate methods of Japanese bondage from Anya. She had Adrian trussed up so tightly he could barely move, but he'd broken for her that night when she'd tied him in a strappado technique. She'd placed his hands behind his back, cinching them with a taut rope that was subsequently attached to an overhead pulley, forcing Adrian to bend over as his arms lifted in the air.

Later on, it was a simple question of taking a suede flogger in each hand and using a figure-eight technique until he broke. It had been the most satisfying moment since she'd embarked on this erotic journey. Her perfect submissive had given her everything she'd asked of him, and she rewarded him by placing the queening stool over his face, allowing him to worship her as she climaxed repeatedly. She'd let Adrian come as well, never taking her eyes off him as he masturbated, spraying hot ropes of come everywhere on her body. She remembered that night vividly as the highlight of her newfound career. Since then, he'd become a regular, seeing her at least three times a week, pissing off her other clients, who were clamoring for attention. When her waiting list had grown to two pages, management started to grumble. They urged her to take on Adrian privately, on her own time, freeing her two hours at the club for regular paying clients. Even though Adrian paid the requisite fee, it was increasingly apparent to everyone that he was Susie's chosen one.

It was Saturday, one of her few days off from the club, so she and Adrian had chosen to have their session at his apartment. She'd been pleasantly surprised the first time he'd invited her over, impressed with his playroom. He had quite the collection of bondage tools, since this was his preferred method of play, and Susie spent a good half hour exploring. "Why didn't you ever invite me over when we first hooked up a year ago?" "I didn't dare,” Adrian replied. “I was afraid you'd run away from me, or worse, report me to the cops." Susie laughed. “We could have saved ourselves a lot of time and money." He put his arms around her waist and tugged her toward him gently, smashing her breasts up against his torso. “But then we would have never had our kick-ass reunion, which has got to be one for the books,” he whispered seductively. “I wouldn't have passed it up for all the money in the world."

"You love that, don't you?" "You can sit on my face for hours." "Adrian.” Susie's breathing shifted slightly as she was affected by his words. “Why did you hide this in the beginning?" "I didn't know you or trust you. In my line of work, I have to be very careful. Besides, you're one to talk,” Adrian accused. “You didn't exactly bring forth your true colors, so how was I to know that I had the most amazing Dominatrix in my life?" "I guess we're both a little stupid." Adrian kissed her deeply and whispered, “You still afraid of the L word?" "Don't go there, Adrian." "Just checking." "Come on,” Susie said jokingly. “It's time for some lighthearted caning."

**** Scott was pacing in their playroom, waiting for Robin and Denise to return from the grocery store. They'd gone food shopping about an hour ago, and he'd opted not to accompany them, preferring to stay home and do his usual Saturday morning chores. He also wasn't in the best of moods, since Robin had not said a thing about the hot guy he'd seen him with yesterday afternoon. He had been sure Robin would mention it last night, especially after the very long and satisfying session they had at the whipping pole. But although many words of love had flowed without a problem, the subject of said hottie was never brought up. Scott was positive he'd seen the guy in his practice, but he couldn't recall his name. Red seemed content and had always sworn he was monogamous by nature, but Scott was still bothered, and, yes, admittedly jealous. He worried that Robin was becoming dissatisfied with their almost vanilla existence because Scott refused to participate in any heavy-duty scenes since Denise

had come to stay. Scott had been reluctant to come down to the playroom while she was a guest, even though Robin had assured him that the walls were thick and buried deep in the earth. Denise would have to have the hearing of a bat to be able to make out their moaning. Nonetheless, he remained reticent, keeping Robin at arm's length. The only reason he'd given in last night was because of the scene he'd witnessed near the parking garage. That freaked him out more than he realized. "Honey, I'm home,” he heard Robin call out as the outside door opened. Scott climbed the steep stairs up to the hallway and practically fell into his master's lap. “Hey, baby,” Robin said, stepping forward and bussing Scott on the lips. “What were you doing downstairs?" "Cleaning up,” Scott answered bluntly. Robin raised his eyebrows and looked at him, wide-eyed. “Are you taking out some of your aggressions with a DustBuster?” Robin asked.

"No, nothing like that. I had the time, so I thought I'd straighten up." "Give us a hand, will you, Scott?” Denise asked, passing a large brown bag of groceries. “I almost dropped that,” she expressed some relief while handing over the bag. “I've turned into a wuss." "You've just had surgery, for Christ's sake,” Robin scolded, turning his attention away from Scott. “I told you to leave the bag in the car." "I'm not an invalid,” Denise protested. "We know this,” Scott replied. He placed the bag on the kitchen table that was in the middle of the room. “We don't want you to overexert yourself, Denise. You don't want to end up back in the hospital." "God forbid." "Then do as you're told, Ma,” Robin interjected. “Baby, give me a hand with this, okay?" "Sure,” Scott said softly, following Robin out the

door to get more bags from the car. “Looks like you bought a lot of stuff." "It seems like that, doesn't it?” Robin replied. “We haven't been to the store in ages, plus I was hungry. You know it's not good to go shopping on an empty stomach." "Did you buy a lot of useless shit?" "Oreos are not useless,” Robin proclaimed. “We were out of dessert." "Sugar whore,” Scott teased. "And proud of it,” Robin acknowledged. He moved and pinned Scott up to the car and leaned into him. “Are you okay?" "I'm fine, why?" "You seem bothered by something, and I want to know what it is." "Nothing, Red."

"Liar." "I'm not lying,” Scott protested. “Come on and hand me a bag." Robin reached into the trunk of the car and passed one of the bags to Scott, taking the last two in his arms. “Can you get the lid?" "Yup.” Scott reached for the handle and slammed it shut, turning and heading back into the house. Robin watched him, more convinced than ever that Scott was pissed about something but too stubborn or proud to talk about it.

He'll come around eventually. He hoped it had nothing to do with Ron or Jenna. He was sick to death of those two. Even David, for all his charm, was a part of the secret that could still hurt Scott. Robin was tired of having to worry about Ron's every move, but somehow he knew this wasn't over yet. It was too big and too dark to disappear. Scott had been acting wonky ever since his meeting with Jenna yesterday afternoon, and Robin was positive

that it was related to Ron Morris and his bullshit. As far as Robin was concerned, he could fry in hell. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-Three On Monday morning, David walked into the dental practice with a small bouquet of baby carnations, surprising Denise with his gesture. "You shouldn't have,” she exclaimed, although she was pleased. She couldn't remember ever receiving flowers, much less from an admirer. There was nothing quite like it, and she warmed to David, despite knowing his history with Scott. It was difficult to understand how such a caring person could walk away from his own flesh and blood, but Denise was practical enough to know that there was a story behind every action, and hopefully, one day she'd find out David's. "I couldn't resist buying them for you. They would look lovely on your desk." "Well, thank you, Mr. Zisman. That was terribly sweet of you."

"Please, I insist that you call me David." "So you said. Very well, David, my name is Denise, and I expect you to use it as well." "I will. Is Robin ready for me yet?" "I'll let him know you're here." "Thank you,” David replied. He continued to gaze at Denise from his seat in the waiting room, admiring her efficiency. She was answering phones and making appointments, multitasking effortlessly. It had been years since he paid any kind of attention to a woman, especially one so much younger than him. He'd thought that part of his life was dead, along with Vera, but surprisingly, Denise seemed to raise his blood pressure in unexpected ways. There was something about her quiet confidence that appealed to him. David was more familiar with women who never had thoughts of working outside of the home. That was a part of his world, and one he'd accepted without question. Vera had made a beautiful life for

him and his daughters, never lacking for things to do, but he acknowledged the world was different now. Most women either had to work to augment a family's income, or they wanted to have a career for their own satisfaction. Nobody wanted to devote an entire lifetime to being a housewife or a mother. He'd been at odds with Jenna for years over her lack of interest in settling down, finding the right man, marrying. In the past, he'd always assumed modern women were like his daughter as well, preferring to be in the work force, but watching Denise was eye opening in many ways. She was just as feminine as Vera, and her quiet efficiency made her even more attractive. He shook his head ruefully. It was unseemly for a man his age to be thinking of women at all, but somehow his brain and his body didn't understand the concept. Robin's appearance in the waiting room broke his train of thought as he stood to greet him. "How are you doing, David?" "Just fine, Robin. No pain at all,” he replied as he followed Robin through the corridor to his room.

Denise watched her son and his patient walk down the hallway, wondering again what was behind that placid face. David seemed like the epitome of a gentleman, a throwback to years past, yet she sensed a passion in him that was incongruous considering his age. It wasn't an overt passion that leaked out of his pores as it did in her son and his partner. It was more like a steady flame burning deep inside the man, some sort of light he carried around, guiding him. She had no idea how she knew this, but she was as sure of it as she was the first time she met Scott. She'd liked him instantly, knew he was going to be good for Robin, and she felt the same way about David. Inside that stately appearance dwelled a kind and gentle man. She could tell he was a compassionate person who would never shirk his duties, and that was what made the mystery of Scott's abandonment so hard to understand. She noticed that Scott seemed to have a problem connecting the dots as well. He was falling for his grandfather's charm. Despite his original intention to shun him, it just wasn't happening. David was too damn nice.

**** At 450 Sutter, Ron sat at his desk, signing checks for money he no longer had. He was going to tap into his overdraft to meet payroll for Jenna and the receptionist, Gloria. He wasn't going to pay himself, or he'd run out of funds that much faster. He'd have to live off his credit cards for a while until his case with Washington Lee was completed. The older patriarch of a prominent Chinese family was toothless and had decided, at the ripe old age of eighty-two, that he wanted to buy some teeth. He was tired of gumming his food, and besides, he refused to go into the afterlife without teeth. It was tantamount to failure, and he'd never embarrass his ancestors that way. He'd opted for full mouth reconstruction to the tune of one hundred thousand dollars, twenty-thousand of that allocated to Ron for ten dental implants. The rest of the money was for the restorative dentist. Ron saw the treatment plan as a lifesaver, well able to help him coast for a few more months until another implant case came along. It didn't matter

that this was more complicated than most because the patient had been without teeth for years; there were many areas in his mouth that would need bone grafting. All Ron could think of was the bottom line and the eventual money he'd bank. "We can't do this, Ron.” Jenna was adamant, filled with dread over what he wanted to do. “You aren't trained,” she explained, trying to make him understand. "I'm going to have help, Jenna.” Ron countered. “The rep from the implant company will come and walk me through the entire case." "That's not good enough, Ron. You need another dentist to assist you." "I'm not asking Scott, Jenna." "He would do it if you were willing to apologize and act like a civilized person,” she said, raising her voice in anger. "What makes you such an authority on Scott

Gregory?” he asked. “Have you been meeting him behind my back?" "Now what the hell would I do that for? It's not like he's hot after my body." "Oh, gross. Will you stop reminding me that he likes cock?" "Ron, please! Reconsider this case. You have no business taking it." "And that's the point, Jenna. No business! Look around you. The fucking waiting room is empty!” He shot up off his chair, practically shouting his frustration in her face, making her take a step back. “Do you want to get a paycheck next month? I have to take this case, Jenna. There is no other choice." "Don't pay me, just pay Gloria." "No! I'll do this, and I'll do it right. You need to get your act together and not make any mistakes. Make sure the sutures are tied around all small instruments. I will not have another swallowing

incident, do you understand?" "Yes,” Jenna replied, blinking back the tears. Being reminded of her mistake was like having her face rubbed in dirt. She had taken pride in her work for years, and now, all of a sudden, Ron was treating her like she was totally incompetent. "Get the hell out of here." She turned and walked out, crying quietly so he wouldn't hear. The states of the practice, her personal life, and her nerves were all heading in one direction: down the tubes at a terrifying rate. She feared an explosion of sorts, not really knowing how it would happen, but she felt it looming like the mythical earthquake that everyone said would destroy San Francisco eventually. It was underneath the surface, just waiting to bubble up and wreak havoc. She did the only thing she could do at this point: she swallowed another Valium and prayed for oblivion. ****

Scott and Robin were walking out of the office when Robin's cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and said hello, turning his back to Scott when he realized it was Mitchell. He didn't want Scott to know that Mitchell was helping him prepare the most amazing outfit for his collaring ceremony. He knew that Scott would put a halt to the entire venture if he found out the details being planned and how much money Robin was spending. Robin had always been frugal, never one to spend beyond his means, but there was no question that he wanted the best for Scott. He wasn't going to cut corners to save a few bucks. He wanted the entire BDSM world to see what an amazing sub he had, and a large part of it was dressing for the occasion. It was a chance to show off and preen, something they'd never done before, and he wanted the members of the club to die of envy when they saw what he'd been hiding away for the last year. He knew it was pure pride on his part, a sin he'd admit to without guilt, but he couldn't stop the need. It was time for their debut as a couple in the lifestyle. Mitchell had introduced him to a gentleman who'd

originally lived in Milan and had opened a store in the Bay Area catering exclusively to the BDSM world. His leather products were one of a kind and handmade with a loving, deviant touch. He was famous for sensual clothing that seemed to bring out the very best in his clients. Robin had chosen Scott's outfit after poring over at least fifty designs. It was going to be fabricated in buttery soft cocoa brown leather with intricate embroidery in gold thread along the seams of the short jacket to enhance Scott's blond hair and golden tan. Robin had opted to do away with the standard black. He wanted his sub to wear something unique and specifically tailored for him. He would be a knockout in the skintight chaps with his ass cheeks bare for all to see. Robin practically drooled over the sketch when he saw it the first time. He and Mitchell were supposed to meet for the initial fitting, since he'd agreed to model for Robin. He and Scott were very close in size, and Robin wanted to see the pants on a live model before he handed over the money. He whispered a time and a place where they would meet and disconnected, turning back toward Scott,

who'd been watching him the whole time. "Who was that?” Scott asked as Robin shoved the phone back into his pocket. "Wrong number." "Really.” Scott's voice dripped icicles. “That was a pretty long conversation considering it was a wrong number." Robin looked at Scott with interest. “Your point is?" "No point." "Good. Let's go get some Thai food." "I'm not hungry.” Scott spun around and headed for the car. Robin knew he'd upset him. He could easily end the argument by telling him the truth about who was on the line, but he rationalized the entire incident as being part of the collaring ceremony and therefore not subject to interrogation. Scott had agreed that Robin would make the decisions, so he wasn't going to cave and reveal all. Let Scott think

whatever he wanted to. When it came time for him to dress, he'd be grateful that Robin had gone above and beyond to do it right. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-Four Dinner was a stilted affair that made Denise extremely uncomfortable. Scott and Robin barely said two words to each other, directing most of the conversation toward her. She knew they were fighting over something but didn't want to know any of the details. It was hard enough being privy to their private life, even more difficult because she was Robin's mother. It bordered on the absurd. She felt like a caricature of an overstaying mother-in-law and couldn't finish her meal fast enough so she could escape to her bedroom and shut the door. The men needed their privacy, and she was more than happy to give it to them. "I'm off to bed,” Denise announced, pushing back her chair. “Do you need help cleaning up?" "No, Ma. Take-out means throw out." "What about the leftovers?"

"There are none." "Okay, hon. I'll see you and Scott in the morning." Robin acknowledged her with a nod, and Scott barely glanced her way. Scott stood abruptly, heading for the stairs, but Robin caught his hand and pulled him back toward him. "What's the matter with you?" "I'm tired." "Try another line,” Robin countered. “Why don't you just tell me why you're upset instead of this passiveaggressive behavior." "Stop trying to analyze me." "Hey.” Robin changed tactics. “Come down to the playroom and we'll work it out of you." "Not tonight." "Scott?"

"No. I'd rather not, and if I have to safe word, I will." Robin was taken aback. Scott had never used his safe word in all the time since they'd met, and the mere mention of it alarmed Robin. It had been so long since they had a discussion about the finer points of their D/s relationship that Robin couldn't even remember what the safe word was. “First of all, I think that statement was uncalled for.” Robin frowned. “I would never force you to do anything you don't want to do. I just assumed you'd rather take this discussion downstairs, instead of in our bedroom, since you are paranoid and think that my mother can hear everything." "It's not paranoia, Red; she's a few rooms away from us." "Scott, this house was built years ago, when they did it right. The walls are made of plaster and wood, not Sheetrock, so I can assure you that she can't hear a thing we say or do... but I've already had this conversation with you several times." "It doesn't matter.” Scott yanked his hand away from

Robin's and left the room. Robin stared as his lover climbed up the stairs. He knew he was angry about the anonymous phone call, but his reaction seemed a little over the top. What the hell is going on Robin made the rounds of the house, locking up, turning off lights, and setting the alarm system. Finally, when he couldn't delay any longer, he went upstairs to their bedroom. It was on one end of the house, as far away from the guest room as possible. When Denise had first come home from the hospital, they had hoped she'd stay in the family room so she wouldn't have to navigate the stairs. They'd rented a hospital bed and had set up a makeshift room for her where everything was within easy reach. After the first few days, she'd insisted on returning the rental. She convinced them that climbing the stairs would be good exercise, a part of her rehabilitation, so they gave in and put her things in one of the spare rooms down the hall from their own. Fortunately, there was both a bathroom and a bedroom separating them; unless they started screaming, the likelihood of her overhearing anything was pretty slim.

Scott had turned off the light on his nightstand. He had his back to Robin, clearly announcing he wanted nothing to do with him. It was a first in their relationship, and one that Robin was not about to let pass. After brushing his teeth and taking a piss, he stripped and climbed into bed, sliding toward Scott and wrapping his arms around him. "Don't.” Scott voiced a protest but didn't struggle to get away. "Shh, love, please... let me hold you." "Why would you even want to?" "So I can do this,” Robin whispered, gradually rolling onto Scott. He braced his arms on either side of Scott's head and silenced any further arguments with a blistering kiss. “I love you so much,” he sighed, teasing Scott's mouth open with his tongue, hoping to crack some of the ice that seemed to surround his boy's heart. He swept the inner contours of his lover's lips, outlining the soft pillows of flesh, loving the mewling sounds that he was able to extract with each swipe. “Say you love

me,” he whispered, continuing his assault on Scott's mouth, now taking his lower lip in between his teeth and biting gently. He could feel Scott's cock as it grew hard against his own erection, and he grabbed the lube off the nightstand and slicked himself with a generous glob before resuming the sensuous grind against his lover. "Red,” Scott gasped when Robin slipped into him, making him tremble as his own orgasm started to build, like a tiny curl far out in the ocean. It grew with each push of Scott's hips, sweeping him along like the strongest tidal wave, picking up everything in its path. He covered Scott's mouth with his own, muffling the scream and preventing morning-after embarrassment, just before his own orgasm slammed into him with a strength that rocked him deep inside. Robin felt Scott's body convulse around his cock, milking him steadily until he too exploded with a strength that made stars appear in the darkness as he squeezed his eyes shut, riding the delicious burst of pleasure that rendered him boneless and incoherent. "Love you,” Robin whispered.

Scott moaned. “You destroy me every time." "In a good way, I hope." "Don't ever stop,” Scott whispered. “Hold me." Robin rolled off and lay on his side. He turned Scott so they spooned up against each other, and he threw a leg over Scott's hip, embracing him tightly and pulling him against his chest. “Are you okay?” he asked gently, hoping that Scott would tell him what was bothering him. He wasn't exactly sure why Scott was so upset. It couldn't have been the phone call. It was a stupid incident that didn't warrant this kind of reaction. Robin figured it had something to do with Ron and Jenna, but he wasn't going to drag it out of Scott. He'd tell him in due time, but for now, Robin was determined to ease his mind with words of love. “You're my world, love. Never forget that." "I won't,” Scott replied, giving himself over to him trustingly. He was determined to shove thoughts of other men to the back of his head. It was a misunderstanding, he rationalized, one that would

easily be cleared up if he asked, but he chose not to. He believed that Robin spoke the truth. He was his world and had been for some time. Their relationship was so much more than a Dom and his sub. It was a definite love connection that Scott would guard and cherish with his life if need be. No one was going to waltz in and take it away. That much he was sure of. So fuck that guy, whoever he was. Scott wasn't going to allow a jealous rage to control his life. Robin was his, his Dom and his partner, and he would allow nothing to come between them. **** David was hovering over Denise's desk, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence. It was a Monday again, and he'd just finished another session of scaling and root planing with Robin. Denise looked up finally and smiled at the handsome man, who appeared quite smitten. “What can I do for you, David?" "I was wondering,” he stammered, “do you think it's possible....” He stumbled and turned pink,

seemingly at a loss for words. "What is it?” she asked gently. He really was good looking, standing there in his starched blue shirt with a white collar and French cuffs. Whoever shopped for him did a nice job, because he looked very fashionable, in her opinion. "Would you like to have lunch?" "Oh!” she voiced her surprise. “I don't normally eat around here. I go home at one o'clock and grab a bite when I get there." "I'd be willing to wait until one.” David spoke with a bit more assurance. “Would you walk with me to the cafe across the street?" "Sure, why not?" "Good,” he smiled broadly. “I'll sit here until you're ready to go." "Okay,” Denise smiled back. He took a seat, and she continued sorting through the mail, separating it

into piles for Scott to look at. It hadn't taken her long to acclimatize herself to this new job. It was nice to feel useful again after lingering in bed for so many weeks and feeling like an old lady. Since she'd been allowed to exercise and get out, she felt ten times better, not just physically, but mentally as well. She'd been extremely anxious about her surgery being a success so she wouldn't become a burden to anyone, especially Robin and Scott; that was the last thing she ever wanted to be. But her worries seemed groundless right now, since she was better than new. The big bonus in all of this was David, the new addition in her life. He seemed completely taken with her, and she had to acknowledge that it was nice. Life did go on after fifty, despite what the young people seemed to think. Even though she'd never married, she had a healthy libido and had dated throughout Robin's formative years. She had just never met anyone she wanted to bring home and introduce into her son's life. Acquiring an admirer past the age of fifty-five felt rather like winning the lotto: completely unexpected, but something she wasn't about to push away. It

beat the hell out of fixating on medicines and doctor's visits, which was common among older people. At precisely one o'clock, David stood, expecting her to meet him at the door. He was nothing if not prompt, a byproduct of a generation where time commitments meant something. Denise said, “I'll be a minute, David. I just want to let Robin know where I'm going." He nodded and sat down again. She walked down the hallway and tapped on Scott's door, happy to see the two men eating peacefully, a far cry from last night's dinner. They looked up when she stood at the entry. “I'm having lunch with David,” she blurted out, sure that her cheeks were pinking up with embarrassment. "David who?” Robin asked, nonplussed. "David Zisman,” Denise replied with an eye roll. "Why?” Robin looked incredulous.

"Because he asked me." "What the hell!" "Hey,” Scott interjected, amused by Robin's protective streak. “I'm sure it's pretty harmless. Why shouldn't she go?" "He's a fossil!" "He is not!” Denise countered, looking quite indignant. “He's very nice looking; you're being a jerk." "Whoa,” Robin replied, looking at Scott wide-eyed and shaking his head. Scott smiled. “Best to keep your mouth shut, Red." "No kidding. Have a nice lunch, Ma. You coming back here or going straight home?" "I'll take BART back home, so don't worry. I'll be fine."

Robin nodded and watched her leave the room. He turned to Scott and said, “What the fuck was that all about?" "It seems like there's a little romance in the air.” Scott's grin could only be described as wicked. "Ew, I can't even go there,” Robin grimaced. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-Five David pulled out Denise's chair, reminding her again that he was from another era. He waited until she was settled before he moved to the other side of the table and sat down. A waiter came over, poured water into their individual glasses, and left them for a few minutes to look over the menu. There wasn't a large selection, but the items offered were favorites that one could almost dub comfort food: meat loaf, macaroni and cheese, spaghetti, and of course, sandwiches of sorts—items you would expect to find in anybody's kitchen. The room was filled to capacity, and Denise looked around at the clientele, realizing that most of the patrons were gay men who worked or lived in the area. She was one of the few women in the room. David seemed oblivious though, which was a relief considering the stories she'd heard about Ron and his issues with homosexuals. David didn't seem to

share any of his views, or if he did, it wasn't obvious. She looked up from the menu and realized that he'd been looking at her all along instead of making a selection. She could feel her cheeks heating up and was mildly amused at herself for reacting like a foolish young girl. "See anything you like?” she asked, regretting her words instantly, because David smiled and said, “Yes,” clearly talking about something other than food. "David,” Denise confessed, “you're embarrassing me." "I'm sorry,” he answered quickly. “I can't help staring. Is that what's bothering you?" "I'm not used to being the center of attention,” she acknowledged. “It's been years since I've been stared at by a good-looking man." "You find me good-looking?” David's smile lit up his face, making him look years younger. “I'm flattered, although you might consider getting your eyes

checked. I'm an old man, Denise." "You're only as old as you feel, David." "Then I must be eighteen,” he said, looking at her intently. Denise sensed the attraction, surprised at the swiftness of it all. She looked at him as dispassionately as possible, scanning every part of his face to see what was so special about him. He had crows’ feet around his soft brown eyes, and there were lines on his forehead. His hairline was receding, and there were some dark spots here and there on skin that was weathered and had seen better days. Despite all that, she found him attractive. His smile came easily, and an unmistakable aura of strength and kindness shone through like a beacon. "Are you single?" "I've never been married,” Denise replied. "By choice or circumstance?” He seemed genuinely

curious. It was too soon in their relationship to go into all the details, so she glossed over the major points. “I was too busy trying to raise my son and make ends meet. Romance never factored into my plans." "Do you have grandchildren?" "Robin is gay, David. Didn't you know?" "Robin? The hygienist?” David seemed confused. "Yes,” Denise chuckled. “He's my son, and he's gay." "I had no idea,” David responded, “although I should have guessed by the hair color. You look very much like each other. Is he involved with anyone?" "He and Scott are crazy about each other." "Oh." "Does that change anything, David?” Denise hoped it wouldn't change a damn thing, but she had to ask.

"Of course not! Robin is a great hygienist. I've never been with anyone who has such a light touch, and I can't say enough about Scott. He's a marvel." "I'm glad you think so, David. They are both very special to me." "As they should be. Have you worked with them a long time?" "No. I'm only in town because I'm recuperating from a surgical procedure I had a few weeks ago. As soon as I get the okay, I'll be heading back to San Ramon and my old job." "I'm sorry to hear that,” David lamented. “San Ramon is so far." "It's easily accessible by BART." "I suppose that's true, but living in San Francisco for all these years has made me a little leery of the East Bay."

"Don't tell me you're a snob and think we're uncivilized on that side of the bridge?" David laughed, chagrined by the truth of her statement. “Guilty,” he admitted. "You'll have to come and visit once I go back,” Denise replied. “I promise we have running water and electricity." "Stop! I'm an oaf, and I apologize." She rested her hand on his, noting the difference between her slender fingers and his long, thick, blunt ones. “You're not an oaf, David. You're sweet." "Thank you,” he replied, smiling at the compliment. “Shall we order?" Denise nodded, happy to shift her attention to food. It had been many years since she'd dated anyone. Her world had been a little off-kilter since her surgery; being in a different environment after living and working in one place for so long was disconcerting in some ways. This powerful

attraction only added to her mixed feelings. She wasn't sure she should allow herself to feel anything for a man who'd contributed to Scott's unhappy childhood. She remembered how surprised she'd been when Scott recounted Jenna's story of how David had insisted on putting Scott up for adoption. She couldn't understand how anyone would knowingly give up their own flesh and blood. Her own experience with Robin had been filled with the ups and downs of single parenthood. She'd lived off public aid for years until she finally received her nursing degree, but she had never once thought of giving him up. It was inconceivable that anyone would do that. David didn't strike her as someone who'd walk away from a responsibility. All her instincts told her that something wasn't right, and so she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt while keeping him at arm's length until she could get more information. **** "Doc, can I ask you a really, really personal question?"

Scott put down his instruments, peeled off his gloves, and leaned back against his chair. “Certainly." "I'd like to do it in private, if you don't mind.” His patient seemed a little embarrassed as he looked at Susie and shrugged, hoping she would understand. "We'll need a few minutes, Suz." "Sure thing,” she replied, walking out of the operatory. Scott waited patiently. He'd just completed an exam on this man, who had sat through the entire process with sweat pouring down his forehead. He was a nervous wreck, and Scott could only imagine what it would be like to actually perform any kind of a surgical procedure on him. Fortunately, he didn't think it would be necessary. Four quadrants of scaling and root planing would correct his problems.

His patient leaned forward and whispered, “I'd like to know if my periodontal issues have anything to do with my lifestyle." "Do you have any medical problems you haven't disclosed?” Scott asked, reaching for the patient's chart. He scanned it quickly and saw nothing significant. "No, I didn't mean medical stuff. I'm negative, Doc." "What do you mean?” Scott asked. He'd heard a lot of things in the years he'd been in practice. People were much happier blaming their periodontal condition on outside sources rather than admitting they had poor oral hygiene. "It's all the spunk, isn't it?" Scott blinked. “What about it?" "All that junk in my mouth can't be good for my gums." "No, that's not it at all."

"Are you sure, Doc? What about the rimming? You do know what I'm talking about, don't you?" Scott bit his lip and nodded. “I'm gay." "I'd hoped so, but I wasn't positive. You think I'm susceptible to infection? Maybe I should invest in some sterile wipes?" Scott tried to maintain a straight face, but he wanted to break into a smile. He'd heard every excuse in the book from the color and brand of toothpaste to the time of day a patient brushed, but it was only here in San Francisco that anyone had asked him about semen. It was actually liberating to say yes, he was gay, and he understood his patient's concerns. It still didn't take away the fact that the entire conversation was ludicrous. "Listen, Joe,” Scott replied, resting his hand on Joe's knee. “Your questions are valid, but there is no evidence that anything you've mentioned will contribute to periodontal disease. You just need to be more diligent with your home care. Floss more often, use an electric toothbrush if you can, and get

your teeth cleaned on a regular basis. Throwing away the cigarettes will help as well." "And the jizz?" Scott grinned. “Carry on as usual." "Thanks, Doc.” Joe's smile couldn't get any wider. “My guy will be relieved." "No doubt,” Scott deadpanned, and he stood to leave the room. He passed Susie in the hallway. “Tell Denise to set him up for four sessions with Robin." "Did he ask anything new?” Her eyes sparkled with mirth, pretty sure that Scott had been bombarded with some interesting questions. "Yup,” Scott answered, barely able to contain his laughter. He entered his office just as the giggles erupted. "What's so funny?” Robin asked. He was having a cup of coffee in between patients and smiled, easily

infected by Scott's humor. He walked over to Scott and took him in his arms. "My patient thinks he's got periodontal disease ‘cause of all the semen he swallows." "Christ! If that were true, all of Castro would be toothless." Both of them burst into laughter. “You know what the best part is?" "What, baby?" "I admitted I was gay, out loud and to his face." Robin lovingly caressed Scott's mouth with his thumb before kissing him softly. “I'm so proud of you, love." "I'm proud of me too." Robin kissed him again, thrilled that Scott had overcome another one of his demons. When he had met him a year ago, he was in the closet and living

in fear of discovery. He'd been in and out of hiding for years, from what he'd been told, and to see him like this, out and proud, was a huge accomplishment. The soft kisses were soon replaced with more heated ones, and they were grinding against each other within minutes. "Fuck.” Scott pushed away, looking completely drunk with lust. “How did we go from zero to one hundred in mere seconds?" "Must be all the talk about junk,” Robin teased. “Come on, babe.” He pushed Scott down gently. “Put your periodontal health at risk." [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-Six Washington Lee tried not to gag as Jenna put the impression tray in his mouth. They were preparing for his upcoming surgery, and she was as exhausted as her patient. He'd been a trouper, but he was starting to wear thin after so many hours in the dental chair. "We're done,” Jenna stated, taking the tray out of his mouth. She wiped the area around Washington's mouth for any residue of the gummy material. “I think you're quite presentable now and ready to go." "That's a relief. I couldn't keep my mouth open for one more minute." "I'm sorry, but this is an important part of the process. We have to take a mold of your mouth so the laboratory can fabricate a surgical guide. Dr. Morris and your general dentist will decide where to put the implants, and they'll make holes in the guide

so that on the day of the surgery there will be no second-guessing." "I suppose. Still, that's the most uncomfortable thing I've ever had to endure." "I know. We'll see you in a few days, okay?" "Okay. Thank you, Jenna." "You're very welcome.” He exited the room, and Jenna cleaned up quickly. Just as she finished, Ron walked in. "Did it go okay?" "Of course." "You didn't screw up?" Jenna got in his face and said, “Why are you questioning me? I know what I'm doing!" "Bottom line, Jenna?” Ron confessed, “I'm not sure you're at the top of your game anymore. You've been very emotional since Scott's departure. You've

changed, and I hardly recognize you. I don't understand your behavior, because I was your employer long before that jerk ever turned up in our lives." "He's not a jerk!" "Any man who'd sleep with another man is a jerk in my book. I don't care what you say about him." "You're hopeless.” Jenna turned from him, weighed down by sadness. "I'm not confident in you anymore, Jenna. The last two times we did a surgical procedure, you made a mistake. Nothing can go wrong with Mr. Lee's case." "Nothing will go wrong on my end. You, on the other hand, have no clue how to place so many implants or do multiple bone grafting procedures." "You just suction when I tell you and make sure the fucking sutures are tied around the implant parts!"

Jenna was shocked when she heard the expletive. Ron had yelled and ranted at her many times over the years, but he'd never used that word in a conversation with her. “Don't worry, Ron. I'll do what I have to do, but after this is over, I'm quitting." "Excuse me?" "You heard me. I'm done putting up with your abuse.” She turned and walked out of the room, carrying the tray with the molds she needed to prepare. Ron followed her all the way down the hall, and when she stepped into the lab and put the tray on the counter, he grabbed her by the arm to get her attention. "What the hell do you mean by abuse? I never fucking abused you." "Think again,” Jenna spat out, holding back tears that seemed to be making an appearance much too often lately. "You're menopausal, Jenna!"

"Maybe I am, but that's got nothing to do with this conversation." "Oh yes it does! You're an emotional wreck, and I'm almost glad you're quitting. I'm sick of dealing with your nagging and incompetence." Jenna flinched when she heard the accusation. “Who do you think you're fooling, Ron?” She tried to blink back her tears, but they fell in swift torrents down her cheeks. “The only incompetent person in this room is you!" "You're pissed off because I got rid of your glamorous, cock-sucking doctor." "You had no right to fire him. He never did anything but his best for you and the practice." "What's up with your infatuation with that piece of shit? Surely you don't think that he considers you a friend." "He's a good person, and you can't see beyond the tip of your bigoted nose."

"I'm done with this conversation! Make sure that those models are poured and sent down to the lab immediately. They're waiting for them." "I'll get right on it, your highness." "Jenna." "What?” She glared at him, finally seeing him for what he truly was. "Watch your tone." "Fuck off, Ron!" "Bitch!" "Asshole,” she muttered as he walked away. **** Denise buzzed Scott and told him he had a phone call. When he picked it up, he realized it was Jenna, but she was crying so hard that he could barely make out what she was saying.

"What happened?” he asked, dreading more stories about Ron. On the one hand, he was relieved to be out of his reach, but on the other hand, his ego wanted to know that Ron was suffering without him. Listening to Jenna's tales of woe was like watching a car wreck: he wanted to look the other way, but at the same time, he wanted to see and hear all the gory details. "You what?” He listened in shock when she told him that she'd just quit her job and was further dismayed when she asked if he'd consider hiring her. “I already have an assistant,” Scott replied. He spoke to her in a gentle tone of voice, as if she were a frightened patient. The last thing he wanted was to stir her up even more. He almost broke the phone in half when he heard the next question, to which he replied, “No, I haven't hired anyone for the front desk yet. Right now Robin's mother is helping out." Jenna continued to plead for a chance to work for him, and finally, out of sheer frustration, he agreed to meet with her again and listen to her latest saga. He suggested the Starbucks on the corner of Sutter

and Stockton, an easy walk for her but a car ride for him. He'd park at the Sutter Street Garage and meet her in about half an hour. Scott walked down the hallway and peeked in Robin's room but saw that he was with a patient, so he scribbled a note on a Post-it and tacked it to the wall near the door. Robin looked up and nodded when he saw what he was doing, and then he went back to his task. Fortunately, Scott had already checked the patient, so Robin could dismiss him when he was done. It was closer to an hour by the time he got to Starbucks. Jenna was sitting at a table in the corner, nursing what appeared to be an iced coffee. “Hey,” he muttered, pulling out a chair. "You want a coffee?” she asked. "No, thanks. So, what's going on with you?" She started to say something, but Scott realized she was on the verge of tears. “Please don't cry, Jenna."

"I'm sorry, Scott. I've made such a mess of things." "You didn't do it by yourself, Jenna." "I've made so many mistakes. I should have told my parents about Ron years ago." "It's too late for recrimination, Jenna. It would solve nothing to say anything at this time. You'd only be hurting a lot of people." "But I'm hurting,” she wailed. “I have no one, and you want nothing to do with me." "I have nothing in common with you, Jenna, and I can't seem to get past your lies." "Yet you've taken my father, your grandfather , at face value, despite the fact that it was his decision to give you up. Why is that?" "I don't know, Jenna. I've been asking myself that same question ever since I met David." "Speaking of my father,” Jenna said, wiping her

tears with a paper napkin. “Why does he seem to be walking on air lately?" Scott grinned. “I think the old man is secretly in love with Robin's mother." Jenna was rendered speechless. She stared at Scott open-mouthed in disbelief. Finally she said, “You're kidding, right?" "No, I'm not." "But he's so old!" "I don't think there's an age limit on love, Jenna,” Scott said gently, knowing how much that statement might hurt her. She'd been hoping for love from an unlovable man for so long that it seemed cruel to mention anyone else's potential happiness. "My father would never be unfaithful to my mother.” Jenna was indignant. “They were inseparable." "Jenna, she's gone. He's a lonely old man looking for company."

"Why can you sympathize with him and not me?" "I don't know! Maybe it's because David didn't have all the facts either. If he knew that Ron was the man who'd impregnated my mother, he may have done things differently." "How?” Jenna looked confused. She'd taken ten milligrams of Valium just before leaving the office, pinching a few more pills from the drug supply. She'd forgotten what Scott had said, and felt embarrassed to press for details. "It doesn't matter, Jenna. Are you on anything?" "I just took a small dose of Valium." "Where did you get it?” Scott was alarmed. "I have a prescription." "Are you sure?" "Yes! I'm clinically depressed, and I've been told to take the pills twice a day,” she replied with a straight

face. Jenna had taken lying and denial to an art form, and she believed her own words even as they left her lips. "I'm glad you're getting help, Jenna. Maybe leaving Ron will be the start of a new life for you." "I don't think so. It will be the end of my life in dentistry if you don't hire me,” she said sadly. “No one wants to hire an assistant my age." "That's not true,” Scott replied. “You should have no trouble getting another job. If you want me to give you a good reference, I will." "I want to work with you, Scott. You're family, and we should stick together." Scott looked at her with pity. He felt for her, yet he couldn't move past her deception. She'd chosen Ron above everyone else, and now that she realized her mistake, she thought she could waltz into his life regardless of the pain her earlier decisions had caused. He wasn't that altruistic. He still recalled all the nights he cried himself to sleep

as a child, as well as the years of not knowing where he belonged or who he was. Only Robin's love and patience had helped to make him the person he was today. He'd overcome years of baggage by trusting Robin to guide and support him, so allowing Jenna into their current lives would be a slap in his partner's face, in Scott's opinion. He would never do that to him. "I'm sorry, Jenna. I'll do what I can to help you find another job, but it won't be at my practice.” He stood and gazed down at her. She looked up at him with eyes that almost mirrored his, reminding him again that she was indeed family. It filled him with sadness, but he was determined to stick with his decision. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-Seven Robin read the note that Scott left him, tossing the Post-it away in a fit of temper. "What's the matter?” Denise asked, picking up the paper off the floor and reading it. “What's wrong if he meets Jenna?” She knew it was none of her business, but Robin was pissed, and she wanted to know why. "She's a pain in my ass,” Robin snapped. “She thinks she can call Scott whenever she's having problems at work, and he's supposed to fix it. Be at her beck and call. That's what's wrong with it!" "Robin. You need to be more understanding." "I don't think so, Ma. Did Jenna understand what she was doing all those years ago when she didn't open her mouth and tell the truth? Do you have any idea how different Scott's life would be if she had?"

"We can only guess, Robin, but he wouldn't be the man he is today if he were raised by Ron Morris.” Denise looked at her son pointedly. “Think about that before you get bent out of shape." "That's an impossible conjecture, since it didn't happen." "And so is your statement about Scott's life being different. Robin, we do the best we can when we're young. Some people are luckier or smarter than others. The rest of us make decisions on the fly and hope for the best. I'm sure that Jenna has beaten herself up over this decision many more times than we can imagine." "I just don't want Scott to get hurt! I'll kill them both if I have to." "Stop it this instant! There will be no more talk about killing anyone. You sound as insane as Ron." Robin stepped forward and embraced Denise, sighing in frustration. “I'm sorry, Ma. Ron brings out the worst in me."

"You want to protect your lover, sweetie; I understand. But you need to be more temperate and know that life isn't all black and white." "Is that why you're giving the old fart the benefit of the doubt?" "Please don't call him that,” Denise said, looking up at Robin. “David is a wonderful man, even if he is much older than me. He makes me smile, and he tells me stories about a life I've only read about. I'm grateful for his company and his attentiveness. At my age, it's extremely flattering, and it hurts to hear you denigrate him like that." "Has he said anything about his daughter, Anna? Scott's mother?" "No, and I'm not going to ask. If he ever feels the need to talk about it, he will. In the meantime, I'm taking it a day at a time and getting to know him little by little." "You guys aren't doing anything weird, are you?”

Robin asked, making a face like he'd just walked into a pile of dog shit. Denise laughed. “You think we're having passionate sex? Get real, Robin. At our age it's not about sex, although he did kiss me the other day." "Jesus H. Christ! On the lips?” Robin was incredulous. "Stop it." "I think I'm going to hurl." Denise laughed again and pushed him away. “Stop being a drama queen! Now go and do something useful." Robin spun around and headed for the office, trying to make sense of everything he'd just heard from his mother's mouth. The fucking world was going nuts, in his opinion, if he had to worry about his fifty-sixyear-old mother getting it on with a seventy-fiveyear-old man. Next thing she's going to want to talk about is lube, he thought, shaking his head almost

violently like a dog with a stubborn flea. He had to get the idea of his mother and lube out of his brain. His thoughts were interrupted by the beep of his cell phone, and he saw that it was Mitchell. “Hey, dude, what's doing?" "Robin, I just got a call from the Leather Shop. He can fit us in today if you can get away." "Can you?" "Yeah. That's why I'm calling." Robin took a quick look at his watch and realized he still had a lot of time before he had to be home. He was pretty sure that he and Mitchell could have the fitting done in under an hour, which would give him time to get home before Scott did. He wanted to be available to Scott in case Jenna or Ron did anything to upset him. **** Thirty minutes later, he was sitting in a chair,

watching Mitchell being fitted. He had to admit that the man had a great body, and if he weren't so in love with Scott, he'd have taken him up on the notso-subtle offers being thrown his way. Mitchell seemed to have developed an attraction to him, made more apparent after he discovered Robin was a quality Dom. Robin couldn't take his eyes off the pants that were being pinned on his accommodating model. They were skintight with a snap-on pouch in front that was roomy enough to handle an erect cock if need be. The leather was the color of melted caramel, with gold threads mixed in on the fringe that ran all the way down both sides of Mitchell's legs. From the front, the pants were modest, although they were so tight that it was a wonder Mitchell could even walk. Robin decided to leave them that way because Scott's thighs were a fraction smaller, and he wanted the pants to look like they were painted on. The thought of his man in said pants with nothing underneath but his erection was enough to get him hard. When Mitchell turned to show Robin his rear, he almost stopped breathing. His ass cheeks were

completely exposed but for thin strips of leather crisscrossing his lower back to hold it all together. Scott's ass was much nicer than Mitchell's, and the pants would be the ultimate showcase, especially after a few swipes of Robin's hand to pink up the succulent flesh. He nodded his head at the tailor, showing his approval, and they moved on to the top. He'd asked for a small vest simply because his first choice would have been to leave Scott completely bare from the waist up, but he didn't think his boy would go for it. Scott's torso was magnificent. There was no other way to describe Scott's moderately puffed out pecs or the smooth, golden surface. He'd kept his chest free of hair ever since Robin had placed the nipple ring on him months ago and voiced his preferences. Scott's stomach muscles were developed as well, thanks to the many sit-ups he did every morning, and his “six-pack” was rock hard, undulating when he walked. He had a narrow waist with a line of golden hair leading from just under his navel down to his groin. Scott kept it trimmed to accommodate his Dom. The vision of his sub was so clear in Robin's head that he almost

forgot that it was Mitchell doing the modeling, not Scott. He was shaken out of his fantasy when the tailor coughed to get his attention. "Is everything to your satisfaction, sir?" "Yes,” Robin answered, coming out of his fog. “I particularly like the gold stamping you've added to the vest. It's unique." "Thank you, sir. I think it will attract a lot of attention." "I think you're right,” Robin grinned. “I can't wait to see Scott in this outfit. Did you get a chance to start on the mask?" "I have some preliminary sketches I'd like you to look at." "By all means,” Robin replied. So far, everything had been exactly as he requested, and he had no doubt that the mask would far surpass any of his expectations. He wished that they could do away with it, but he had promised Scott his anonymity, so he would try and give him an extraordinary mask to

complement his outfit. The designs were typical Venetian masquerade wear. Some of them were simple pieces of leather that only covered the eyes, while others were almost museum pieces covering the entire face. They were made from papier-mache and were decorated in striking colors mixed with silver and gold. Robin kept picking out designs that had ornate gold curlicues, drawn to them because of the brown and gold leather he'd chosen for Scott's attire. He finally settled on a mask with a leonine flavor to it, which would be the perfect foil for the emerald green eyes that would be clearly visible. "This is what I want,” he said, pointing to the design. "Ah, the Columbine Baroque,” the Italian sighed. “A favorite of many of my patrons. It is decorated with twenty-four carat gold leaf." "How much?" "For you, sir, a bargain at ninety-five dollars."

"A bargain, huh? What the hell, I've already spent a small fortune here, let's just round it out. An even thousand for the entire outfit, yeah?" "Yes, sir. We should have everything ready in three days." "Perfect. Mitchell, you can go and get dressed.” Robin turned and watched his model step off the raised wooden platform and head for the dressing room. He whistled for fun and grinned when Mitchell shook his bare bottom for good measure. They were laughing and trading stories about club adventures while they walked down the stairs to the street when Robin froze suddenly. He turned around quickly to duck back into the stairwell, pulling Mitchell along with him. Scott was coming out of the Starbucks across the street, and Robin didn't want to bump into him: he would have to explain why he and Mitchell were together. He was determined to surprise Scott with the new outfit, and he almost felt superstitious about showing it to him. It would be as bad as a bridegroom seeing his bride in her wedding gown ahead of time—it just wasn't done.

**** Scott had seen Robin, though. That red hair was hard to miss, and since they'd hooked up, Scott always noticed men with Robin's coloring. He was with the same brunet he'd spotted him with about a week ago, and he wanted to cross the street and confront him; on the other hand, he was afraid of what Robin had to say. Maybe it was innocent, but what if he told him point-blank that he was seeing this guy because he was bored out of his mind? The thought alone made his stomach twist up in knots. They had not had a truly intense scene since Denise had come to stay. The reason, of course, was Scott's fear of being overheard. He'd been reassured that their playroom was well insulated and that sound wouldn't carry all the way upstairs to Denise's room, but Scott was naturally inhibited. The thought of someone else in the house, especially Denise, was enough to put a damper on his headspace. In fact, although they'd made love and had sex many times over the last few weeks, it

had been pretty tame compared to their normal routine. The original plan to have some light sessions each night was curtailed by Denise's presence, and as much as Scott adored her, it was seriously starting to get old. He decided to take matters into his own hands and surprise Robin with a compliant submissive waiting and eager for an intense session. He'd find some way to get Denise out of the house tonight so he could let it all out. He speed-dialed Susie, hoping she'd agree to take Denise to the movies or something. He just needed a few hours alone with Robin to convince him that his sub was still around so he wouldn't start looking elsewhere. Deep in his heart, he couldn't believe that Robin was cheating, but his insecurities always overrode his good sense, and right now he was feeling very insecure about his place in his Master's life. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-Eight Susie was lying in Adrian's arms when her landline trilled, scaring the heck out of both of them. They'd just finished another long session of bondage and were basking in the afterglow, whispering words that lovers share after sex. She was reluctant to answer the phone and break the spell, but she worried that it might be some sort of emergency, so she picked up. "Susie?" "Hey, Scott. What's up?" "I have a huge favor to ask you." "What is it?" "Can you take Denise to dinner and the movies? I'd like some privacy with Robin." "Is everything okay?” Susie asked, pulling away

from Adrian and fluffing up the pillows against the headboard so she could sink into them. "I'm not sure." "What's wrong, Scott?" "I think Robin might be having an affair." "Come on.” Susie voiced her disbelief instantly. "I've seen him twice with the same guy, and I'm pretty sure he's the one who called Robin the other day, but he wouldn't tell me who was on the phone." "Why didn't you bloody ask him?" "Maybe I didn't want to hear the answer!" "Scott, either ask him or shut the fuck up. If I saw someone I cared about in a strange situation, I wouldn't hesitate." "I'm not like you,” Scott huffed. "What are you going to do?"

"Have an amazing session with him instead." "Why?" "I think my Dom is going crazy in our vanilla world, Suz. We haven't had an intense scene since Denise came to stay." "Oh my fucking God. That's almost a month, Scott." "I know. We're acting like an old married couple who couldn't get more boring." "Are you even having sex?" "Of course we are, but it's been rather subdued since Denise moved in, if you know what I mean." "Who's reticent?" "Who do you think? I'm the uptight partner, not him." "Scott, we need to get your mojo back, and quick." "I know. I can't lose him, Susie.” Scott sort of

moaned when he said that, realizing how it could be a very real possibility. "You're not losing anything, so stop talking nonsense. I'll give Denise a call and twist her arm into seeing a show and having dinner. I promise to keep her for a good three hours." "That's great, Suz. Thanks." "No problem.” She put the phone back on its cradle and scooted into Adrian's arms. “We've got a few more minutes, and then I've got to call Denise." "Who's she?" "She's Robin's mother. Real nice lady, but she's been a houseguest with the guys for a month, and she's cramping their style. Scott's having a meltdown." "Why?" "'Cause he's uptight and won't have a scene with her around. Speaking from the Dominant

standpoint, I'd never put up with that shit." "You're something else." "Why do you say that?" "Part of being in love and making a relationship work is compromise, but it's not as horrible as you make it out." "God, Adrian. Are you going to give me the Love Will Keep Us Together lecture again?" "When are you going to get it through your thick skull that I love you and would do anything to make you happy?" "I keep telling you I don't believe in love." "And I'm a very determined man and will keep bugging you until you give in." "Hey. Be respectful or your Mistress will have to punish you, and she's out of time,” Susie said in her deadly Dominatrix voice.

Adrian sort of threw himself at Susie and pinned her down on the bed. “You can punish me all you want, Martell. It'll only make me love you more." "Are you for real?” Susie asked, seeing Adrian with fresh eyes. Their relationship continued to flourish under the new rules. They never saw each other at the club anymore, much preferring to have scenes in private at their respective apartments. They were both fulfilled, deriving satisfaction from each session and learning how truly compatible they were. The fact that she was taking on less and less at the club spoke volumes about her interest in other men. She acknowledged that Adrian was the only one she was sleeping with. Admitting that was the first step. However, she was reluctant to make the ultimate commitment and say she loved him. It was like trying to get her to confess to a horrible crime. Her ideas of love were so skewed by years of bad relationships and childhood memories that Adrian would need a ton of patience, which, fortunately, he seemed to have. "Can I come along tonight?"

"Do you want to?" "I wouldn't ask if I didn't." Susie smiled, surprised at how much she liked the thought of spending time with him outside the bedroom. He was so much more than she bargained for. Discovering all the different sides of Adrian Manning was beginning to be a full-time job, but it was a very enjoyable one. "Come then." "Thank you, Mistress." She giggled and hugged him. “No Mistress, just Susie." **** Robin walked through the front door of his house to be greeted by the sight of Scott, naked and on his knees. "Baby?"

"Welcome home, Master." Red's brain clicked into Dom mode at the sight of his beautiful man on display. Everything about Scott's body was a huge turn-on, but the most exciting thing about him was his willingness to do anything his Master wanted while they were in a scene. “To what do I owe this honor?" "We're alone, and I thought I'd take advantage of the moment." "Where's my mother?" "With Susie. She's taking her to see a movie." "The plot thickens,” Robin said in a low growl, moving toward Scott. “Did you plan this?" Scott nodded. “I wanted some quality time with you without worrying about being overheard." "Love...." "Make me fly, Master."

Robin's heart almost stopped beating when he heard those words, and his cock certainly appreciated the phrase. He couldn't remember the last time he had become this hard this quickly. “Come with me,” he said softly, stretching out a hand. Scott rose and allowed Robin to lead him down the stairs to their playroom. The room was chilly, as most subterranean quarters were apt to be. Noting the goose bumps that had erupted all over Scott, Robin turned up the thermostat a notch to get some warm air flowing. He wasn't sure if Scott's body was reacting to the cold or anticipating the scene. Robin stood in front of the bureau filled with toys, trying to decide what they were going to do tonight. He wanted to do away with pain for a change and concentrate on sensation play. Scott had mentioned an aversion to bondage when they'd first gotten together, but he had never come right out and said he was vehemently against it. Robin wanted to push him tonight. He looked like he could use an intense scene; they both could. It had been far too long.

For starters, he was going to deprive Scott of sight and sound. He pulled out a black silk scarf and a box filled with foam rubber earplugs. A ball gag would complete the picture. He turned and heard Scott gasp when he saw what he was holding. “Are you okay with this, love?" "Yes, Master,” Scott answered quickly. He appeared intimidated by the sight of the ball gag, but since he'd never indicated any hard limits, Robin felt free to use it. "Get on the lacing table,” Robin ordered. Scott headed toward a narrow table with a row of eyehooks affixed on both sides. He sat in the middle, in between the hooks, and he laid back, waiting for Robin's next order. "I'm going to deprive you of everything tonight, love. No sound, no sight, no movement. You think you can handle that for me?” Robin asked in a softly modulated voice. "Yes, Sir,” Scott responded quickly.

"While I have you restrained, I will do everything in my power to make you come, but you mustn't until I give you the okay. Understood?" "Yes, Master." "Is there anything you want to say before I place this gag?" "How will I safe word if I can't talk?” Scott asked. Robin knew his boy was more than a little anxious. The physical signs were pretty obvious. His cheeks were flushed, and there were tiny drops of perspiration dotting his hairline. Scott wasn't a gagger, nor was he averse to being restrained. However, this was the first time he would experience complete deprivation at the hands of his Master, and it was Robin's obligation to make sure that Scott felt safe. Robin stepped forward and kissed Scott, lingering for a few minutes before he placed a tiny bell in Scott's hand, the type you'd find attached to a bike

handle. “Ring this if you want me to stop." "Yes, Sir." "I'm going to be right here the entire time. Never forget that." "Thank you, Master." "Would you like a sip of water before we begin?" "Yes, please." Robin handed over the bottle of water he'd pulled out of the mini fridge and watched Scott take large gulps. He devoured him with his hungry gaze, taking in every part of his beautiful submissive, starting with the blond hair that fell in a soft sheet over his forehead. Scott's lips were pink and full as they wrapped around the mouth of the bottle, and Robin's cock rose in anticipation of having the same rosy red lips servicing him later in the scene. Scott tilted his head, stretching his throat to the limit, and his Adam's apple bobbed while the liquid slid down. Robin couldn't wait to mark Scott by sucking

up the soft skin and leaving his imprint for days. He held back even though his cock now pressed tightly against his jeans. Finally, Scott had his fill and handed the bottle back. Robin couldn't stop himself from kissing him again. He was far too enticing to resist, so he latched on and loved him with his mouth, enjoying the sweetness as Scott met his aggressive tongue with his own. There was no dueling for control tonight—Scott opened up to him, giving himself over without hesitation, and Robin moaned in appreciation. He settled Scott on the table and positioned the ball gag, tying the ends behind his head. “You comfortable, love?” he asked. Scott's green eyes flashed in panic for one second but quickly eased when Robin said, “I'm here for you, love. I'm not going anywhere, okay?" Scott nodded and began breathing through his nose instead of his mouth so he wouldn't gag. He continued to gaze at his Master, but his eyes no longer darted back and forth. He looked at Robin steadily with love that practically oozed out in heartshaped droplets, radiating trust. His chest rose and

shaped droplets, radiating trust. His chest rose and fell in a slow and easy rhythm, responding to Robin's voice. Robin took the black scarf and blindfolded Scott, covering the emerald eyes for the moment. Robin left the earplugs for last. He began to tie Scott with the silk rope, crisscrossing over his upper body, passing through each eyehook until Scott was immobilized. “Can you move your hand?” Robin asked, solicitous of Scott's comfort. “Ring the bell for me, baby." Scott rang it twice. Robin was pretty sure that Scott was comforted by the sound of the bell; he had a death grip on it, knowing it was his lifesaver. Robin looked at his handiwork dispassionately, making sure that nothing was pinched. He'd purposely left Scott's cock free of the rope, and it lay thick and heavy against his stomach, enticing Robin as moisture escaped from its slit, a testament to Scott's comfort level and arousal. He bent down and sucked up the salty liquid, reveling in his boy's taste. Scott groaned and attempted to lift his hip, but he was unsuccessful. “Relax, baby,” Robin crooned, caressing Scott's face and licking

his ear, teasing him with his soft, warm tongue. “Just breathe, nice and easy." Robin removed the earplugs and hesitated, unsure if he wanted to completely deprive Scott. Part of his appeal as a Dom was his voice. Scott responded on a primal level, and he hated to withhold that one source of comfort, so he decided not to take away his hearing this time. Perhaps another day, after tonight's experience, Scott might be more relaxed being completely sensory deprived. "I'm not going to use the earplugs, baby. Ring twice so I know you're okay with this decision." The noise jarred, but Robin could tell that Scott was relieved. He sighed, and his limbs sort of melted onto the table, losing some of the tension that had seemed to grip him while he anticipated the earplugs. "I'm going to start our session with a little electric play, so expect some tingling in the next minute or so. Nod if you understand.” Robin watched as Scott's head bobbed up and down. “Good.” He

walked back over to the bureau, shucking his clothes on the way. His T-shirt was pulled off and tossed. Next, he toed off his sneakers and kicked them across the room, stopping to hop around on one leg and then the other as he peeled off his jeans and underwear. Finally, when he was completely naked, he grabbed the box with the TENS unit and moved back to Scott. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-Nine Red pulled out the electrodes he needed to stimulate Scott, putting a generous amount of lubricant on each one before attaching a round pad close to each of Scott's nipples. Since the silk rope was crisscrossed, there was plenty of room for the pads to lay flat on Scott's chest without impediment. He placed another pad near Scott's navel, and finally the last one was placed on the soft, tender skin between his balls and his asshole. This was an appetizer guaranteed to send tiny shocks of pleasure to selected spots simultaneously. It was far easier than trying to be four different places at once, and it would give Scott the sexual jolt that would push him to sub space in a hurry. Robin smiled as he attached the pads to the electrical cords, which in turn were attached to the battery-powered TENS unit. It was harmless if done correctly by someone experienced enough to know when not to over-stimulate any one area. This device was used routinely in chiropractors’ offices

for muscle relaxation, but like many other common devices used for massage, it was easily turned into a sexual tool. "I'm going to start the machine, babe. You're going to experience a mild buzzing wherever I placed an electrode. I want you to relax and just feel. Let yourself soar with sensation, but don't come. Needing to get off will become unbearable, but you will resist, my love. Understood?" Scott nodded his head. Robin turned the lever on the machine and watched intently for Scott's reaction. It would start out very slowly, almost imperceptible, but the tingling would be felt in all his erotic zones, and as the tingling increased, so would his arousal. Robin heard Scott moan for the first time since they'd started the scene and took note of the tumescent cock that pointed toward his stomach, leaking drops of pre-cum at a steady rate. Once again, Robin couldn't resist, and he bent down to lick up the salty fluid, flicking at the spongy head with his tongue, twirling and jabbing at the slit for good measure, making Scott groan. Scott rolled

his head back and forth slowly, almost rocking himself into sub space, since it was the only part of his body he could move. Robin turned up the heat another notch and watched Scott's cock twitch and swell even more. He was satisfied that his little toy was doing its job. He decided to add to the mix by inserting a batterypowered butt plug into Scott, which he pulled out from the drawer under the table. He slicked the hard plastic with a glob of lube and stood at the foot of the table. “Raise your legs, baby, and spread wide for me." Scott did as he was told, completely at Robin's mercy. He was free-floating in the darkness, and not being able to see or talk or move made him feel almost like he was in a tomb. He was so grateful that Red had decided to forgo the earplugs. Hearing his voice comforted him and was the only thing keeping him from having a massive panic attack. He had begun to relax and enjoy the sensation of the electrical tingling a few minutes ago. So far, Scott was easily able to ward away the orgasm that hovered on the fringes of his mind. He

orgasm that hovered on the fringes of his mind. He wanted to submit beautifully to Red's request, to prove that he was indeed the submissive Red deserved, so he played mind games with himself and went into a meditative state, which was always a prelude to sub space. The pain of keeping the orgasm at bay would lend itself to the cause, allowing him to find the mental state he so needed. All plans had been derailed with this new bit of trickery that Red had just sprung on him. He gasped in shock as the butt plug was inserted and groaned like an angry bear when the tip nudged him on his gland; it was followed by a subtle vibration that blew his mind completely and made him want to scream aloud. He could feel the saliva pooling in his mouth; the need to come was so overwhelming. His cock was rock hard and would easily explode with the slightest bit of provocation. Even a breath of air on any part of it would cause him to erupt in a fountain of spunk, and so he counted numbers in his head to try and find his center before he humiliated himself. "You okay, baby?"

Oh God, please stop or please let me come. Dear God... Master! He was screaming internally, willing to barter with the very devil himself if he could just grab his cock and tug at it while that wicked butt plug did a number on him. The vibrations were everywhere! There wasn't one part of his body that wasn't being assaulted by the electrical stimulation, and he felt like he was being consumed from the inside out by a swarm of bees. It was excruciating in the most erotic way possible. Eventually, the pain of trying to hold it all together pushed him into sub space, and he soared, flying higher than he had in a long, long time. Robin knew the instant it happened. Scott's breathing shifted from short, desperate pants to deep inhalations of air followed by the opposing exhalation in a steady release as his body relaxed completely. He lay with his head to the side, and his legs, previously drawn up and rigid with the effort of holding back his orgasm, lay splayed and invitingly open. Robin turned off the TENS unit, reached down, and pulled out the butt plug, tossing it over his shoulder to be retrieved and cleaned later on. He

took a pair of scissors out of another drawer and slowly cut away at the rope, releasing Scott from his prison, all the while crooning and caressing every part of Scott's body, which was covered with a light sheen of perspiration. Scott almost glowed as the light reflected off his golden body hair. He was the most beautiful thing Robin had ever seen, and he showered him with hot, greedy kisses, sucking up marks over his neck and torso. Next, he removed the ball gag, pouring water from the open bottle onto his fingers and smoothing them over Scott's dried lips. Scott flicked at the water with the tip of his tongue, an automatic gesture from a thirsty man, and Robin continued to soak up the sight of his beautiful sub. He knew that he was obsessed when it came to Scott, but he couldn't deny his pride in the submission, which he'd pulled off beautifully. "Babe, I'm removing your blindfold, okay?" Scott nodded, still deep in sub space. Robin took one last look at Scott's body and saw that his erection had not dissipated in the least. His cock still lay fat and heavy against his stomach, so

Robin decided to give his sub a perfect blowjob before removing the blindfold. His own erection was out of control, and he wanted nothing more than to jerk off and relieve himself, but first he would reward Scott for a magnificent effort. He engulfed Scott's organ in his mouth, practically lodging it down his throat. Scott canted his hips and cried out, clutching Robin's hair with both hands, testing out his vocal cords for the first time in an hour. The words came out in a husky whisper, which Robin found incredibly sexy for some reason. “Master... I love you." He hummed around the luscious organ in his mouth, increasing the sensation and causing Scott to rut against his face. "Please... Master, I beg you...." "Come,” Robin commanded, removing his mouth for a second before he swallowed Scott again, just in time to receive the spend that pulsed thick and strong, a fountain of pent-up come making Scott almost keen with the sweetness of his release.

Robin swallowed every last drop, loving the heady mix of Scott's unique taste, and when it was finally gone, he moved up to Scott's face and kissed him deeply, twining their tongues and sharing Scott's flavor. "Red...." "Yeah, babe?" "So good." Robin pulled off the blindfold and stared into brilliant green eyes that practically sparked off Scott's face, they were so alive with his recent endeavor. “Fuck me,” he croaked, his voice still rusty from disuse. “Make me scream over and over again." "Hell, yes,” Red agreed, pulling Scott into his arms and gently moving him off the table. There was a down comforter they kept in their playroom for many different reasons, and Robin headed in that direction, making sure to grab the lube on his way. He made Scott lie on his back because he wanted

to see his sub's face when he came again, and he had absolutely no doubt in his mind that he would. Robin was far too close for comfort and almost wished that he'd put on a cock ring to hold off the rush, but he'd waited a long time and didn't have the will power. He began by kissing Scott again, never getting enough of the hot lips that responded quickly to his Master's touch. Kissing was the ultimate intimacy, in Robin's opinion, and no one kissed like his Scott. He could get off just by letting Scott have his way, and he had in the past, but tonight he wanted more. He popped open the tube of gel and squirted a healthy amount onto his hand, sliding it up and down his cock, readying himself. He slid into Scott quickly and paused, reveling in the feel of the tight walls that closed around him in a welcoming vice. He hovered for a second more, allowing Scott's body to adjust to the invasion. But he had to move. It wasn't a question of will power anymore, but a consuming need to possess and mark his man. He pushed in as far as possible

and pulled out until his cock head was squeezed by the rings of muscle that guarded Scott's entrance, only to shove back in again, so deep that he could feel Scott's ass against his balls. "Fuck, you feel so good,” Robin moaned, feeling the orgasm starting like a tickle deep in his gut. Scott responded by putting his arms around Robin's neck and pulling himself up. He wrapped his long legs around Robin's waist, never losing their connection. He was now sitting on Robin, and they were as close as two men could ever be, smashed against each other, joined and connected, mentally and physically. Scott's cock was reviving quickly, now pressing its throbbing, silky length against Robin's stomach. They moved and undulated, sliding back and forth with increasing speed, and soon they were like two men possessed, chasing after the orgasm that tantalized and teased. Robin came first, spilling in heated spurts deep within Scott, pushing up against his gland while his boy babbled sexy obscenities that fueled his orgasm. Scott erupted a few seconds after, splashing streams of thick come all over himself and Robin as they

continued to grind in the squishy mess. They fell sideways on the comforter, hooked together like conjoined twins, drunk with pleasure. “I love you, babe,” Robin sighed in contentment, never meaning it more. "Love you more, Master,” Scott said in a dreamy voice. “I'm still the one, aren't I?” he asked, too exhausted to guard his tongue. "What do you mean?" "Who was he, Red?" "The phone call?" "And the guy I've seen you with twice,” Scott whispered, burying his face against Robin's neck. "Oh, Scott. Is that why you've been so squirrelly?" Scott nodded, too ashamed to reveal how truly fucked up he was over seeing Robin with someone else.

"The only other guy I've been with in the last two weeks is Mitchell, a patient of mine. He helped me pick out your collar. I wanted it to be a surprise, baby, not a source of stress." "It was all for me?" "It's always for you, babe." "Red?" "Hmm?” Robin nuzzled Scott's neck, loving the smell of his skin. "I'm sorry for doubting you." "Hey, if I saw you with a stranger, I'd kill him first and ask questions later." Scott put his hand up to Robin's hair and played with his curls gently, fighting the lethargy that seeped through every pore. He was sated and content, secure in his Master's arms. “I love you so much, Red. I'm sorry I've put you on a vanilla diet."

"Stop saying you're sorry, love. You're doing me a huge favor by letting my mother stay here. I know things will go back to normal once she's gone." "You can count on it." "Baby, you need my brand of loving as much as I need yours,” Robin assured him. “This situation is just an intermission until my mom leaves. I know it, so stop apologizing, okay?" "You always know what to say,” Scott slurred. “It's a part of you that I adore." "What? The open-mouth-insert-foot guy?" "No... the ‘Love me like a Rock’ guy." "Now who's got the way with words?” He was so lost to Scott; anything he did or didn't do was for him and about him. The man held him in the palm of his educated hand and didn't even know it. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirty The big day was here, and Jenna's heart was beating wildly against her chest in anticipation of the complex surgery. She'd already had two Valiums, but her nerves were doing a number on her, making her fixate on everything that could possibly go wrong instead of dealing with what she needed to do to make it go smoothly. Washington Lee's entire entourage was sitting in the waiting room. Sons numbers one and two were present with their respective wives, along with a few grandchildren, who were playing hand-held video games, wishing they were somewhere else. The patient looked quite calm considering what he was about to undertake: a four-hour procedure in which they were going to drill holes in his jaw and place ten titanium implants. Some areas would require additional bone grafting, while others were pretty straightforward. Ron had gone over the procedure multiple times

with Eric, the implant sales rep. He and Jenna had studied every single drill and instrument they were going to use. The small parts were attached to black sutures in the event that they slipped out of Ron's gloved hand, so Jenna would be able to catch them easily. The surgical guides were perfect, providing the template Ron would need to place the posts. All that was necessary now were steady hands and nerves of steel, and he would be richer by over twenty thousand dollars. "You ready?” Ron asked, looking at Jenna warily. "Of course I'm ready. Are you?" "Don't start, Jenna. I don't want to fuck this up." Again, Jenna was put off by the expletive. Ron's slip was a clear indicator that he'd lost respect for her and didn't care what he said in her presence. She knew he would have never used this kind of language in the past. He was showing very little regard for her feelings, treating her like an employee on her way out. The irony of it all was despite the obvious, she still cared enough to

protect him from himself. She had done everything in her power to ensure the success of this surgical procedure. "You just do your job, Ron, and I'll do mine.” Jenna left him sitting at his desk and went out to the waiting room to get her patient. "Good morning, Mr. Lee." "Is it, Jenna? Did you and Dr. Morris get a good night's sleep?” Washington asked in a strong voice. Despite his age, the octogenarian still had a commanding presence. His family certainly knew who was in charge, as they remained in the background and let him take the lead. “So,” he cracked a toothless smile, “when I walk out of here, I'll be like a bionic man, right?" Jenna smiled back. “Not quite, Mr. Lee. But in a few months, you'll be as good as new and well able to crack walnuts with your new teeth." "I don't eat walnuts,” he joked, “but I do like almonds."

"That won't ever be a problem after your mouth is restored,” Jenna spoke reassuringly. They'd entered the operatory, and Jenna sat him in the dental chair, placing the bib on his chest and attaching the clips, all the while chatting with him to keep him calm. He seemed much more relaxed than she was. If he only knew how nervous she truly felt, he'd have stood up and walked out. Ron appeared, looking fresh and eager to get on with it. He had his best game face on, and one would never guess that his entire practice—and what remained of his professional career—lay in the hands of the old man who looked at Ron and asked, “Sleep good, Doc?" "Absolutely, Wash. Don't you worry about a thing." **** In the dental practice across town, David sat in the reception area, waiting for Robin to come out and get him. He was there for his final session of scaling and root planing, an event that didn't go unnoticed

by Denise. She realized that this would be David's last visit to the office for a while, and his next appointment would probably be after she was back in San Ramon at her old job. There would be no more excuses to see each other, and she was saddened by the thought. David was thinking the same thing as he glanced at Denise every chance he could get. He tried not to be obvious about it, but he was enamored. They'd had lunch on several occasions in the last few weeks, and he knew that her presence had become integral to his newfound happiness. He woke up with a joy for living that had been missing in his life for a very long time. The days no longer seemed endless with nothing to do. Planning lunches with Denise had brought a bounce to his step, and even though he acknowledged that he was far too old to be acting like this, he couldn't help what he was feeling. He stood and walked toward her desk. “How are you?” he asked, smiling widely. "I'm fine, David.” Denise smiled back, unable to

resist the pull of their mutual attraction. “I guess this is your final appointment for a while, isn't it?" "Yes. I was wondering...." "What?" "Would you like to have lunch again today, after my appointment?" "I was hoping you'd ask,” she answered, never taking her eyes off him. "Were you?” His smile couldn't have gotten any wider. “I'm delighted." "I'll be waiting right here." "Okay,” David said as he continued to stand there and look down at her. Robin walked out to escort him back to his dental chair and watched as the couple gazed at each other like matching lovebirds. It was bizarre to see, yet he had to admit that a part of him was really happy for his mother. She'd been alone for so long, and now that he lived in San

Francisco, far from her home in San Ramon, he worried about her. He wanted her to be happy, as she more than deserved it, and if Scott's grandfather could do it for her, who was he to say it was right or wrong? If he was anything like his grandson, Robin could easily understand Denise's attraction. Like mother, like son, he mused. **** The surgery was going well. They'd already completed the procedures on the lower jaw, placing five implants without any problem. They'd paused before beginning the surgery on the upper jaw, allowing Washington the chance to use the rest room and giving both Ron and Jenna a little break to stretch their backs and use the facilities as well. "I'm going to be bone grafting when we start with the uppers,” Ron announced after he and Jenna had returned to the room. "I know. You plan on mixing the bone with antibiotics?"

"Yes." "The usual?" "Of course!” He looked at Jenna like she'd lost her mind. "Just asking, Ron." He let out a huge sigh and shook his head in disgust. Washington entered the room and sat back in the dental chair, ready to continue with the surgery. Ron inserted the upper guide so it would show him where he needed to drill. The surgical guides were computer generated and extremely precise, so the margin for error was slim. It was well worth the additional cost to the patient to utilize this modern method for implantology. Once the holes were drilled, Ron paused, preparing to add the bone in the upper right to ensure the success of the implants. He looked at Jenna over his mask and said, “Go ahead and mix the bone

with the ampicillin." "Okay,” Jenna replied, reaching for both bottles. She began to prepare everything while Ron waited, chatting with Washington about his latest fly-fishing lure. They were both avid fishermen, although Washington had cut back a lot in the last few years. However, it didn't take away his enjoyment of listening to Ron rhapsodize over choice fishing sites in northern California. "I'm ready,” Jenna interrupted, handing Ron the small glass dish with the bone grafting material and antibiotic mixture. He took it from her and proceeded to pack the area around one implant. He then moved on to the next site and packed the area as well, pleased that things were going smoothly. If this were any indication, his future would be set. Washington raised a hand, and Ron stopped what he was doing, looking at his patient in concern. “What is it, Wash?" "I'm having trouble catching my breath,” the old man sort of wheezed as he attempted to talk. “My tongue

is in the way." "What?” Ron asked, putting down his instruments and taking a closer look at his patient. His face was mottled, and his eyes were starting to bug out a little. His tongue did indeed look fatter than it had been ten minutes ago, and Ron's brain was screaming “danger” before he could even mouth the words. He stood and grabbed Washington's chart and looked at the page that showed all the medical alerts. In bright red, underlined twice, were the words penicillin allergy . He'd just placed a bone graft mixed with ampicillin, a member of the penicillin family of drugs. Washington was going into anaphylactic shock. "Call 911,” he commanded Jenna, reaching for the trauma kit he kept in each operatory. He took out the syringe filled with epinephrine and injected Washington in his thigh, going right through his pants, hoping it would stop the progress of the antigens that seemed to be overwhelming his patient's body. Washington's breathing continued to be distressed; Ron watched in horror as his

patient's eyes rolled back in his head and he started to have a seizure. He pressed a switch, and the dental chair reclined further, so his patient was now completely horizontal. He continued to observe as Washington's breathing remained erratic. He'd stopped seizing, which was a relief, but his face was bright red, and his lips and eyelids were swelling to twice their normal size. All Ron could do was watch helplessly, hoping the epinephrine would do the job and keep this man alive until the paramedics arrived. Jenna was waiting for the paramedics to get to the office while trying to explain to Washington's family what was going on. They were in an uproar, practically hysterical over the news. His sons had insisted on going into the back room to see for themselves that their father was still alive. In the waiting area, the wives and grandchildren were crying in unison, which only added to the stress of the moment. Jenna felt like she was walking through mud; her limbs and her senses were bogged down by fear. She knew she'd messed up by not checking the medical sheet for allergies, but so had Ron. The

onus of responsibility ultimately rested on the doctor's shoulders, not the assistant's; however, in this case, she knew that she would be blamed for the whole thing. She sighed in relief when she heard the elevator ding and saw the paramedics rushing out with their gurney. "Back room,” she said quickly. “Penicillin allergy." "Thanks,” the lead medic acknowledged, heading down the hallway. Jenna pulled out her phone and speed-dialed Scott. She knew it was too late for him to do anything, but hearing his voice gave her some comfort. "Scott Gregory." "Scott, it's Jenna." [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirty-One Scott's first reaction was to stay out of it, and he would have, except Jenna's hollow voice telling him her life was over filled him with dread. He acknowledged that his feelings were irrational and that he shouldn't get involved, but he couldn't in good conscience say no. After checking his schedule and determining that he was done for the morning, he left his room in a hurry and raced down the hall, stopping for a second to let Robin know what was going on. Coincidentally, David was in the dental chair, so he decided to share the information about Jenna's call. David was standing before he even finished his sentence. “May I come?" "Of course." "You can't be serious.” Robin frowned and threw his instruments down on the tray in frustration. “What could you possibly gain from going over there?"

"Probably a whole lot of trouble,” Scott explained, “but she sounded very upset." "Gentlemen, let's argue while we're riding in the car,” David interrupted, clearly eager to be on his way. Scott and Robin looked at him in surprise but started moving toward the door. "I'm coming too,” Robin announced. Scott held him back. “I'm not sure that's such a good idea." "I'm not letting you walk into that asshole's office on your own." Scott knew it was pointless to argue. Robin's need to protect him from Ron was a given. He would never let Ron unload more of his vitriol if he could help it. David apologized to Denise on the way out, hoping to get a rain check on the lunch date. She waved

him away and told him not to worry about it. She and Susie would grab a sandwich and hold down the fort while they were gone. "Did Jenna tell you what was going on?” David asked Scott as the car practically flew over the road to Ron's office. "Apparently their patient had an allergic reaction to a drug they administered. She was rather hysterical and didn't give me all the facts." "Thank you for helping her, Scott." "Jenna and I were never close, David, but I did work with her for almost six months, and she was always kind to me. I just can't shrug off a plea for help." "She told me why you and Ron parted ways. Personally, I think the man's a fool for letting you go." "You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that." "Why?

Did

you think

I had

issues

with

homosexuals?" Scott turned to David, who was sitting up front with him. “You don't?" "Absolutely not." "Thank Christ,” Scott mumbled. "I may be in my dotage, young man, but I'm not a right-wing conservative." Scott smiled. “You are way cool, old man." David looked ridiculously pleased by the compliment. “Well, I've got to be now that I'm dating a younger woman." "Hello? I'm still here in the back seat.” Robin piped in. “Can we not talk about my mother, please?" David blushed furiously, embarrassed by his faux pas. “I'm terribly sorry, Robin." "No worries.” Robin shrugged and looked out the window. They were almost there, and he dreaded

facing Ron again. It had been a long time since he'd stormed out of his office, hoping never to return. But things had a way of coming full circle, and he found that the prospect of seeing Ron again was making him sick. **** Jenna jumped up from the sofa as soon as she saw the three of them walk in. She headed straight for Scott and surprised him by throwing herself into his arms and breaking down. David was a little stunned by her snub but stood back and let her have her cry. "What happened?” Scott finally asked, pushing her away so he could look in her face. "Our patient went into anaphylactic shock, and the paramedics just took him away.” Jenna stuttered and hiccupped through the explanation, forcing Scott to read between the lines. He couldn't understand how something so easily preventable had taken place. "Is he alive?” Robin inquired.

"As far as I know, he is,” Jenna sniffled. “It was my fault." "How is it your fault?” Scott countered. "He had a penicillin allergy, and I didn't check. I put ampicillin in the bone grafting material." "Oh, Jenna. That's so basic,” Scott murmured. “Why didn't Ron stop you?" "Why? I'll tell you why,” Ron barked out, walking into the waiting room and getting right in Scott's face. “I depended on my assistant to do her job! What are you doing here, anyway? Have you come to gloat?" "I asked Scott to come,” Jenna interjected. "You're not welcome here.” Ron surveyed the small group and added, “None of you belong here, and that includes you, Jenna.” He stepped closer to her and hissed, “You're fired!" She launched at him, scratching his face and flailing ineffectively.

"Get the fuck off me.” Ron pushed her away, holding his cheek and looking at her in disbelief. “You're completely nuts, Jenna. How dare you attack me?" "I'm sick of you blaming me for everything!” Jenna screamed. “I told you not to take this case." "This case was not the problem, Jenna. You have become a liability to this practice.” Ron condemned her without any qualms, blaming her once again for the entire fiasco. “If you had bothered to check Washington's medical alerts, you would have seen he had the allergy." "And where were you when all this was happening?” Scott asked. He could feel the blood rushing to his head, and he had to control the terrible urge to punch Ron's lights out. “You are the dentist, Ron, not Jenna. You are responsible for knowing if your patient has an allergy or not." "That's her job,” Ron said defensively. “I depend on her to cross-check everything."

"Cross-check means you've already checked it,” Robin deadpanned. "Shut up, faggot!" "Fuck you, Ron!” Robin stood firm. “You're an incompetent piece of shit who can't take responsibility for the most elemental step in treating a patient. You always check for allergies first!" "Get the hell out of my office!” Ron was practically vibrating, and his skin tone was a horrid shade of purple. He was obviously at the end of his rope and beyond reason. "We'll leave when we're good and ready,” Jenna muttered, shocking Ron with her defiance. Ron reached for her and had started to drag her toward the door when Scott intervened and pushed him away. “Get your hands off her." Everyone moved at once. Ron attempted to hit Scott but was effectively stopped by Robin, who grabbed Ron and had him in a chokehold in under a

minute. “You lay a hand on either one of them, and I swear to God I will knock all your teeth out. Do you understand, you motherfucker!" Ron nodded and stumbled when Robin let him go. “I don't understand why you're defending her,” Ron glared. “Jenna is none of your business." "I don't like the way you treat her,” Scott answered. “It's a simple question of human kindness. You claim to be such a good Christian, yet you can't even muster a bit of charity toward someone who's devoted a lifetime to you." "I will not take any criticism from you, of all people,” Ron challenged Scott. “I don't know why she called you, because you have no say in this practice or my staff." "He's my nephew!” Jenna blurted out before she could stop herself. "Jenna!” She turned toward Scott's voice and was about to say something else, but she saw the look on his face and shut her mouth instead.

David had been watching the entire exchange in silence, but her statement confused him, and he asked, “Jenna?" "Oh fuck... here we go,” Robin muttered. Jenna broke down again, her new anguish a direct result of her verbal slip. She couldn't deal with Scott's wrath on top of everything else, and she sobbed loudly. Scott was moved by this fresh bout of tears, and he took her in his arms, allowing her to cry against his chest. “It's okay, Jenna,” Scott whispered his reassurance. "I'm sick of the lies.” Jenna's voice was muffled, so no one heard but Scott. "Come on, sweetheart.” David's gentle voice broke through, and he put his arms around his daughter's shoulder, moving her away from Scott. “Shall we go, Scott?" "Yes,” Scott answered, grateful for the old man and his presence of mind. He had Jenna under control

for now. They'd deal with the rest of it once they got back to the office. "Take her, David, and make sure you have her institutionalized, because she's quite insane,” Ron mocked. David stopped and looked at him in disgust. “I've had quite enough of you, Ron Morris. You're a hateful, narrow-minded, ungrateful son-of-a-bitch, and I will thank you to never speak my daughter's name again. You don't deserve anyone's loyalty, least of all hers." Ron opened his mouth to reply, then thought better of it when all three men rallied around Jenna, clearly ready to take up the gauntlet for her sake. He spun around and left the waiting room. **** Jenna continued to cry in the car all the way to Scott and Robin's office. David tried to comfort her, but she seemed inconsolable. Her statement about Scott being her nephew weighed heavily on his

mind. Was she really losing touch with reality, as Ron pointed out? Why would she say something like that? When they got to the office, it was only twelve-thirty, and patients were not expected for at least another hour and a half. Susie and Denise were sharing a meal when the men walked in with a weeping Jenna in tow. David settled her on a sofa, and everyone gathered around in the waiting room. Denise grabbed a box of tissues before sitting down and pulled out a few sheets, handing them to Jenna, who took them gratefully and started sopping up her face. Finally, David said, “Jenna, we need to talk." "Let it go, David,” Scott jumped in. “We can talk another time." "No. I'm afraid not, Scott. I want to know what Jenna meant when she said you were her nephew. Tell me, Jenna." Jenna looked at Scott with pure terror in her eyes, but he nodded at her, giving her permission. Robin put his arm on Scott's shoulder while Scott leaned

into him instinctively. Jenna's eyes darted back and forth between her father and Scott. She seemed to be wrestling between her need to confess and the fear of reprisal, but she was calmed by David's reassuring voice. "Say whatever you need to say, sweetheart,” David coaxed gently. "I lied,” she whispered. "What did you lie about?” David persisted. "Scott is not my nephew." "Of course he's not, sweetheart. We all know that." "I'm not?” Scott voiced his surprise. He pushed away from Robin and went to Jenna's side of the room. Jenna looked up at Scott. “I'm sorry. I wanted this to be so different. I know you already hate me, and

now you'll hate me even more." "I don't hate you, Jenna,” Scott admitted honestly. He felt her pain and couldn't fathom what it must be like to love someone for years and not be loved in return. Ron's abuse of her devotion was difficult to watch; Scott could only imagine the kind of anguish she was going through. "I'm not talking about what just happened, Scott. I'm talking about what happened when you were born." Scott squatted in front of her and looked her right in the eyes. He'd been witness to many of her meltdowns, but this one seemed much worse. Her eyes were filled with sorrow as she gazed at him. “I'm not sure what you're talking about, Jenna, but you go ahead with whatever you have to say. You'll feel better once you let it out." Jenna took an enormous breath and admitted, “I'm not your aunt, Scott. I'm your mother." Scott stood abruptly, backing away from her, all the while shaking his head in denial. He stumbled and

almost lost his footing, but Robin was quick to give him a hand, and he held him close, trying to support him through this new revelation. Jenna looked terrified by his reaction, and she waited to see what would happen next. Everybody seemed to be holding their breath, stunned by her revelation. David was the first to speak. “You owe us an explanation, Jenna, and I expect nothing but the truth." "I don't know where to begin,” she whispered. “Please don't hate me." "We don't hate you, Jenna. We just want some answers,” David said firmly. "Ron and I had a brief affair about six months after I started working for him." "You were seventeen years old!” David said, appalled by the thought. "I was almost eighteen, Papa." "Almost,” he spat out.

Jenna continued. “I got pregnant just before leaving for college. I couldn't tell anyone because I was afraid for Ron. You would have pressed charges, Papa." "Yes, I would have." "See? I couldn't risk it. I hoped that he'd leave his wife once I told him about the baby, but when I got back to San Francisco the summer after I had Scott, Ron wanted nothing to do with me.” Her voice cracked when she got to this part, and the tears began to fall again. “He said it was all a mistake and he loved his wife, not me. I had to change my plan." "You actually had a plan?” Scott sneered. Jenna nodded. “I did, but things just didn't work out." "What about Anna?” Scott challenged. "Anna died in a car crash,” David interjected. “What does she have to do with any of this?"

"I told Scott that Anna was his mother,” Jenna admitted. “I lied to him, Papa. I lied over and over to everyone, including myself. Anna died the night Scott was born. She and I had a big fight because she wanted me to call you and confess. She disagreed with my plan to leave the baby at the convent. She was driving to the pharmacy to get some things that we needed for the delivery when her car was sideswiped. Our last words to each other were terrible. She called me a slut.” Jenna put her head in her hands and began to sob. "What convent?” David asked in horror. “What are you talking about?" "I left my baby at a convent with a note. I told them his name was Scott, and I asked that they care for him until I could go back for him." "You abandoned your child?” David incredulous. “How could you, Jenna?"

was

"I was in shock the night Scott was born. I waited and waited for Anna to come back from the store, but of course, she never did. I went into labor and

had my baby all alone in the motel room, and by the time the police contacted me about Anna, I'd already had the baby." "Jesus Christ,” Denise said softly. "How did they find you?” Robin asked. "Anna had the motel key in her purse. They knocked on my door." "Where was the baby when this happened?” David inquired. "I had him wrapped in a towel in the bathtub. He was quiet, and the cops never realized he was even there.” Jenna's voice broke. “I had to deal with Anna's death and a child. I didn't think you and Mama could handle both shocks at once, so I took Scott to the convent. I thought I'd be able to go back for him, but that never happened." "Why didn't you tell us?” David's sorrow appeared in the form of large tears that rolled down the creases on his face. “Don't you think we would have

overlooked everything for the sake of our grandchild? You never gave us the option, Jenna. A baby would have helped us overcome our loss." "She was protecting Ron,” Robin spat out. “She didn't give a rat's ass about Scott." "Robin,” Denise admonished, “that's enough. Jenna was reacting to the situation. She'd just lost her twin, for Christ's sake. Cut her some slack." "I'm so sorry, Scott.” Jenna's focus was entirely on her son. She ignored Denise and Robin, hoping Scott would as well. “It was the biggest mistake of my life. Not a day went by when I didn't think about you and wonder what you were doing. As soon as I turned twenty-one, I hired a private detective to find out where you were. I had every intention of getting you back, but it was too late. You were already with the Gregorys." "So I wasn't the product of a random fuck after all. At least one of you was in love,” Scott said. He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but the insecure young boy surfaced, wanting answers that only

Jenna could provide. “It still doesn't make it right. You were wrong to leave me, Jenna. I don't think I can forgive you for that." "I know I was wrong, but I was hoping to make it up to you by handing you Ron's practice. I planned that entire contract; I put your resume on the top of the pile, Scott. I planted the seed in Ron's ear so he would pick you. You can at least give me that much. You wouldn't be here if not for me." "It wasn't your life to plan, Jenna,” Scott said coldly. “You gave up that right as soon as you abandoned me." "Scott, please,” Jenna cried, reaching out for him. “I love you. I always have." There was no denying the sincerity in Jenna's words. Although her reasoning was completely flawed, Scott took comfort in hearing her admit she was wrong. Nonetheless, he couldn't gloss over the deed. “Just saying you're my mother doesn't make me want to run out and buy you a Mother's Day card, Jenna. I've lived my entire life wondering why I

was left behind. Finding out that you chose Ron over me does nothing to raise you in my estimation." "Loving you was never a question, Scott. Giving you up was the most difficult decision I've ever made. It tortured me on a daily basis. I was young and stupid. Please, forgive me." "I don't know, Jenna. This won't be an instant process." Scott stepped away and moved back to the other side of the room. He threw himself on one of the sofas and leaned into Robin, needing the comfort that only he could provide. “This is so fucked,” he voiced, feeling Robin's arm tighten around him. “I'm not sure if I even believe her. I should ask for some sort of DNA test." "Yeah, you could." Scott thought he'd heard the worst of it the day Jenna confessed that Ron was his father. Now he had to deal with this new revelation. David was the

only consolation in this entire fiasco; knowing that he was completely unaware of the situation made Scott care for him even more. David sank to his knees in front of Scott and held his hands, squeezing them so hard it almost hurt. Scott could tell that the old man was overwhelmed by Jenna's confession, and somehow, Scott had to convince him that he didn't hold it against him. They were both innocent victims. “David, it's okay." "How can I make this up to you?” His voice trembled, and his face was ravaged with sorrow. Scott couldn't help but feel for him. "David, you had nothing to do with this." "I should have been more available to Jenna; perhaps I would have noticed something wasn't right." "I doubt that, David. Jenna had her own agenda, and it only included one other person.” Scott's selfcontrol was almost at its limit. He knew it wouldn't take much more to get him started on a crying jag

that would make Jenna's breakdown look mild in comparison. Seeing his grandfather on his knees wasn't helping much. "I can't tell you how much it means to know you are my flesh and blood, Scott. I've never been prouder of anything in my life, and I hope that you'll find it in your heart to forgive us.” David's words touched Scott profoundly and catapulted him over the edge. He let himself be pulled into his grandfather's strong embrace and wept like a child. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirty-Two The atmosphere in the room was charged with emotion, and Jenna's mental state had not improved. On the contrary, she seemed to resent the fact that Scott was letting himself be consoled by David. “Scott,” she cried out, trying to get his attention. “What about me?" Denise stood and immediately went to her side. She gathered the distraught woman in her arms and wiped the tears that covered Jenna's face with a tissue she'd grabbed from the box. “This will take time,” she crooned, trying to calm Jenna with her soothing voice. “It will all work itself out, sweetie, you'll see." "He hates me,” Jenna sobbed, refusing to be placated. Jenna had spent a lifetime putting Ron's needs above hers and her son's, yet tonight she was hoping for forgiveness. The fact that it wasn't forthcoming was compounding her grief.

"No, he doesn't,” Denise reassured her. “You'll have to give him some time to get used to the idea." "I'm going to go and tell Ron what I've done, Scott. I'm going to make this right.” Jenna stood up and got ready to leave the room. "No!” Scott panicked, pushing away from David. “You will do no such thing." "He needs to know,” Jenna protested. “If he finds out you're his son, he'll change his way of thinking, and you can go back and work together." Scott stood in front of her, blocking the door. His brief moment of self-pity was replaced by an inherent need to protect himself. “I won't let you to do this." "But Scott,” Jenna protested. "Enough!” he snapped, finally allowing his anger and resentment to surface. “I will cut you out of my life if you go against my wishes, Jenna. I am the victim here, not you. For once in this entire fucked-

up mess, I will determine the path my life will take. No one decides except me!" He held her arms and brought her close so he could look her right in the eyes, and in a voice that broached no argument, he threatened, “Make no mistake, Jenna! This is no longer about you or Ron. Telling him will change nothing. What it will do is stir up a big scandal the likes of which San Francisco has never seen. I will not become a spectacle for people to pity or ridicule! Am I making myself perfectly clear?” Scott was shaking. He could cheerfully have killed Ron with his bare hands for what he'd done to Jenna, but the ultimate revenge would be to say nothing, to never let Ron know that he had anything to do with his creation. He would be damned if Ron took any bit of credit for the man he'd become. “The incident today will ruin him anyhow,” Scott predicted, taking great satisfaction from the thought. "But it was my fault.” Jenna's habit of making excuses for Ron continued. "It wasn't your fault, Jenna,” Scott said sharply. “He

should have double-checked his patient's allergies. That is the most basic step any doctor takes before treating a patient. Ron was negligent, lazy, and too dependent on you. It wasn't your job to do that." "He'll say it was,” she insisted, breaking down again. "Stop it! No one will believe it was all about you,” Scott admonished. He was so sick of hearing Jenna cover up for Ron. She needed to take stock of her life and finally acknowledge the years she'd wasted on a man who had the moral fiber of a slug. “I don't want to hear another word about this being your fault, do you understand?" "Yes, Scott." "Scott, don't you think Ron should be brought to task? It was statutory rape, after all,” David spoke up. "It wasn't rape, Papa,” Jenna interjected. “I wanted him."

Scott shook his head and ran a shaking hand through his hair. “I understand your frustration, David, but you'll only be hurting me more if you take any kind of steps to get your revenge. I want you to promise me that you will never betray my trust." David looked at the man in front of him, the young man he'd come to know in the last few weeks who was so much more than the sum of his parts. His respect for Scott knew no bounds, and if he had to push back his need to seek justice for the sake of Scott's peace of mind, he would do it. It was the least he could do to make up for Jenna's decision. Giving Scott up for adoption was a travesty, but Jenna's delusional hope that Ron would marry her and make her a part of his life was even worse. David could try and make it up to this wonderfully complex individual in front of him by doing nothing. When he finally opened his mouth to agree to Scott's wishes, he was never surer of anything in his life. “I agree, Scott. Your secret is safe with me. But there are several other people in this room." "The people in this room are my family, David. They have known and loved me a lot longer than you

have known and loved me a lot longer than you have. I'm pretty sure they would never betray me.” Scott spoke with conviction, never doubting the truth behind his words. Robin stepped forward; finally, he was free to put in his two cents’ worth after biting his tongue for the last hour. He didn't want to make this about him, because it really was Scott's moment, but he had to say something, or he'd burst into a thousand pieces. “David,” Robin said, putting his arm on Scott's shoulder possessively, “I want you to know that I would do anything to protect Scott. I'd rip Ron to shreds if I thought for one moment that it would help. But my desire for revenge does not surpass my love for your grandson. He is my first priority; wanting to see Ron shunned by his friends and family, or, better yet, in jail for what he's done, will have to be buried for the sake of Scott's happiness. I do hope that you are sincere in wanting the same." "Very much so,” David nodded. His most fervent desire was to make his grandson happy. "Good,” Robin nodded. “Then you and I will get along just fine."

"Thank God,” Denise murmured in the background. Susie turned toward Denise and smiled in sympathy, knowing how much David was starting to mean to her. "I need a drink,” David said unexpectedly. “Denise, would you care to join me for that late lunch?" "If my bosses can do without me, yes, I would." "Go, Ma." "Yes, please do,” Scott nodded. “Suz, what's on the schedule for this afternoon?" "A crown lengthening for you and two more hygiene patients for Robin." "Be a doll and call them to reschedule. I need some time with Robin." "No problem. Is tomorrow okay?" "That's fine.” Scott nodded and looked at his

partner. “Come with me?" "Let's go, love." "Denise?" "I won't be home for a good three hours, Scott." "Thank you,” he smiled, grateful for her mindreading skills. "Come on, girlfriend,” Susie said kindly, taking Jenna by the hand. “Let's try and get you settled. Do you want to hop on the Internet and see what's in the want ads? Maybe we can find you another great job." **** Washington Lee survived his medical crisis; however, his family was still in shock and demanding an explanation. They'd known Ron Morris for years and couldn't believe that he could be so negligent. Ron was quick to blame Jenna for not checking the medical alerts, and most of the

people crowded into the small hospital room bought the story—all but one grandchild, who happened to be a physician. He knew where to place the blame, and by the time he'd filed his report with the medical-legal team of the hospital, he'd set the wheels in motion for a full-blown investigation. Ron's practice would be subjected to scrutiny of the worst sort, with audits by the DEA, ADA, HIPAA, and Ron's insurance company, which would be liable to come up with a large amount of money to cover Washington's medical expenses. Even if Ron could survive the financial ruin, the public humiliation brought on by the incident would close his doors forever. Adrian Manning saw the report before the ink was even dry. It was small potatoes compared to his normal dealings with international drug lords, but Ron Morris's name caught his attention. He knew Susie had worked for him and was quite familiar with the old stories about Ron's irrational behavior when it came to gays. He picked up the slip of paper and talked to his supervisor, asking to be put in charge of the case. His boss gave him free rein,

happy to be rid of a case that was as interesting to a DEA agent as watching someone do a load of laundry. Adrian picked up his cell phone and speed-dialed Susie. “Hey,” he greeted her rather seriously. “I need to see you as soon as possible. Can I come over?" "Now? I'm still at work." "Precisely." "Oh!” Susie was startled, but she agreed readily. “I guess you can swing by. No one's here except me and Jenna." "Do you mean Ron Morris's assistant?" "Yes." "Even better,” Adrian remarked, giving Susie more to think about. "We'll be waiting." [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirty-Three Scott was silent on their way home. This same silence disturbed Robin enough to reach out and lay his hand against Scott's neck, massaging the tension away while trying to provide a little relief. When they got into the house, Robin cradled Scott's face and kissed him tenderly, whispering, “I love you” in hopes that it would be enough, but his words acted like a switch; Scott fell into his arms and began to cry. He cried for the years he'd never get back and for the grandmother and aunt he'd never known. His body was wracked with sobs as he finally bid farewell to the last illusion he'd harbored about the circumstances of his birth. He shed tears for Jenna, who had ruined her life for a man oblivious to her sacrifice. He also cried for his adoptive parents, whom he'd kept at arm's length for so long. They had never measured up to his fantasy of the perfect parents who had given him

away for the right reasons. The reality, of course, was far from romantic. It was tragic and so unnecessary, but it could never be changed. He vowed to make it up to the Gregorys, despite Robin's words telling him he'd done nothing wrong. Scott would never accept Ron as his father. He had no qualms about his decision to leave Ron in the dark, since he knew that the knowledge gained would be used to Ron's advantage. He'd turn it around somehow and make it about him. He could already imagine Ron coercing him into helping his practice; in his warped brain, he'd think that Scott “owed” him, when the reality was that all he had contributed was a drop of viable sperm that had given him the gift of life. He'd allowed Robin to move him up to their bedroom to try to heal his pain with gentle kisses that acted like a bandage over his bleeding heart. “I love you so much,” Robin whispered over and over, knowing his words were the only thing that would make Scott feel better. "Why?” Scott kept asking. “Why did she do it?"

Robin covered his mouth with tender kisses, aware that there was nothing he could say to take away the pain. All he could do was to try and assuage the hurt by making him feel cherished and special. Robin's comforting presence overshadowed everything else. He was the one who'd grounded Scott and given him the confidence he needed to believe in himself. Denise's unconditional love was one more gift Robin brought to the table. To gain such a beautiful person, a mother in every sense, was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow that was his lover. Scott's body came alive under Robin's touch, responding to him trustingly as hands and mouth acted like the magic elixir he needed to ward off the pain that was crushing him. He cried out with joy when he felt the orgasm flow over him, washing away the unwanted demons he'd carried around most of his life. "I love you” were the only words that made sense in a day that had turned dark and incomprehensible.

They dozed in each other's arms, only to be startled awake by the incessant ringing of Scott's cell phone, which was in the corner of the room in the pocket of his crumpled and discarded trousers. Robin moved to grab the phone. **** Once again, Scott's BMW flew over the streets of San Francisco. Susie's frantic phone call had propelled them into action. Learning that Jenna had returned to 450 Sutter did nothing to alleviate the state of their nerves. "Why would she go back there?” Scott asked, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his fingers were white. "Susie said that Jenna became extremely agitated after Adrian paid them a short visit." "What did he want?” Scott was still trying to connect the dots.

"I guess someone's pressing charges against Ron." "Christ, this fucking day isn't even over yet, and they're already making a move. How does shit like this happen?" "Apparently, Adrian showed up with some kind of paperwork allowing him access to Ron's records, including his controlled substance list. It seems that there have been two complaints already, one from the guy who swallowed the hex tool and one from Washington Lee's family." "Jesus. Why drugs, though? Shouldn't they be questioning Ron's competence?" "It appears that he's blamed Jenna for both incidents, washing his hands of the whole thing." "That fucking piece of shit!" "My sentiments exactly." "But even so, why the drugs?"

"He said she hasn't been herself, so now they're thinking she's some kind of junkie." "That's low, even by his standards." "Come on, Scott. Did you expect him to own up to any of this?" "I guess not. Why did she go back there?" "Who knows? Maybe she's covering her ass. Adrian met with Susie to give her a heads-up in case there was some truth to the accusation. He's not scheduled to start his investigation until tomorrow." "Where's Adrian now?" "He left." "It was really nice of him to stick his neck out like that." "Never underestimate the power of pussy,” Robin grinned, trying to inject some levity.

"You did not just say that!" "I guess I did,” he replied. “Even if I can't abide the thought." "How long ago did Jenna leave?" "About twenty minutes." "I hope we're not too late,” Scott said. "Just relax, love. We'll deal with it, no matter what we find." Scott turned to Robin and simply said, “Thank you." Robin squeezed his hand and smiled. **** "What are you doing here?” Ron asked, startling Jenna. The office had been empty when she arrived, so seeing Ron walk in was a shock. "I came to pick up my things. Why are you here so late?” she asked.

"None of your business." "Ron, come on. Let's try and be civilized." "Why should I? You've just ruined my life." "Excuse me?” Jenna's mouth hung agape. "If it weren't for your mistake, I'd have twenty grand in my pocket." "Bullshit, Ron! This isn't my fault, and you're not turning me into road kill to protect your sorry ass." "Watch me.” Ron's face was pinched with anger at his circumstances. He really had no one to blame but himself; still, he chose to blame it on Jenna because it was preferable to admitting he'd screwed up. "I'm not going down for this, Ron. I didn't do anything wrong." "Oh yeah? Then what are you doing with the controlled substance book? Counting pills, Jenna?"

"I want to check the entries before gathering my stuff and turning in my keys." "What entries?” Ron asked pointedly. “We've hardly had any patients. Who the hell is on that list?” He grabbed the book out of her hands and scanned the names quickly. “Who are these people? I don't recognize the names, Jenna." She was flustered, ill prepared for an inspection by Ron, of all people. He'd never looked at the book in the past, so her use of dummy names had never been a problem. “It doesn't matter if you recognize them or not. You're senile and can't remember what you had for breakfast." "That's horseshit, Jenna, and you know it!" "Give me that book,” Jenna said, making a grab for it. Ron held it away from her, and she launched herself at him like a missile. “Give it back!” she screamed in panic. He backed away and glared at her. “You're a drug

addict, aren't you?” he accused, finally realizing what was going on. “That's why you've been making all these mistakes." "No!” She shook her head vehemently in denial. “I'm not an addict. I'm a little on edge, Ron. I needed a Valium to calm down. I only took a couple." "My ass!” Ron walked over to the locked cabinet, opened it with a key he pulled out of his pocket, and reached for the bottle of Valium, clucking like an old hen when he saw that half of the contents were gone. “This is almost empty, Jenna,” he stated. "Give it to me!” she screamed again, moving to grab the bottle. Ron had it in his hand, and he lifted his arm to keep it out of her reach, but she jumped up and pushed him in the process, knocking them both down. He hit his head against the edge of his metal desk and fell unconscious. Jenna stared at him, not comprehending. “Ron? Are you okay?" The wound on the side of his head looked like a crack in a melon, oozing blood at an alarming rate. “Ron?” she cried out, shaking him repeatedly. “Ron,

Ron...." He remained unresponsive. Jenna began to cry softly but got back up on her feet, moving into selfpreservation mode instinctively. She picked up the bottle of Valium that had rolled out of Ron's limp hand and locked it back in the cabinet along with the record book. Her tears were blinding her, but she managed to get it done. She went back to Ron and started to shake him again, hoping to get a reaction. When none was forthcoming, her brain shut down. It refused to acknowledge what was going on and chose to escape instead. Scott and Robin walked into the office, accompanied by Berto, the Filipino security guard, who'd been on duty downstairs. Since it was after hours and Scott and Robin no longer worked in the building, it was only logical that they would be escorted. However, none of them had expected to walk into this scene seemingly minutes after it happened. Jenna stared at them with glassy eyes. She appeared to be on some other planet, showing no sign of recognition. “He won't answer me,” she said in the petulant voice of a ten-year-old child.

said in the petulant voice of a ten-year-old child. “Why won't he answer?" Scott bent down and took Ron's wrist, immediately feeling for a pulse. When he didn't get one, he reached up to his neck, feeling for some sign of life along his carotid artery. There was a beat, albeit faint. “Robin, call 911." Scott gazed at Ron's face dispassionately, surprised that he felt nothing. He'd always been a compassionate person, easily affected by another's need, yet he couldn't dredge up one ounce of pity or concern for the man who had fathered him. Ron looked seriously hurt, and Scott was willing to make an educated guess that he was hemorrhaging internally. He knew that if Ron hadn't been so vocal in his hatred for his sexual orientation, he might have felt differently right now. If he'd only shown him one moment of genuine appreciation for the professional he'd become, there might have been some empathy on his part. As it was, he didn't feel a goddamn thing. For the second time that day, the paramedics rushed to 450 Sutter. This time, they were also

accompanied by the police, who had been summoned by Berto. After assessing Ron and determining that he wasn't coming out of it, the paramedics took him away on the stretcher. Jenna was strapped into a wheelchair and rolled out. She was silent and unable to respond to a simple command. "Are you family, sir?” the policeman asked Scott. "No. I used to work here." "What happened?" "I'm not sure. My partner and I came over to pick up Jenna and found this." "We'll need you to come down to the station to get a statement." "We don't have any details, officer,” Robin interjected. “Berto can vouch for us. We literally walked into this scene." "Nevertheless,” the cop said, pocketing his note

pad and pencil. “You live in town?" "Yes,” Scott replied. "What about the woman?" "She's Dr. Morris's assistant. They've worked together forever,” Scott said, defending Jenna. “I'm sure this was some sort of accident, officer." "You're probably right, but I still need to do my job." "We know her father. Do you want his number?” Robin offered. "That would be great, Doc." "I'm not the doctor.” Robin pointed to Scott. “He is." "We'll need your name and number for our records, Doctor.” The officer turned back to Scott. “Even if the police don't need you, the insurance company might." "That's fine.” Scott began to write down his information, wishing he were somewhere else

entirely. The whole situation was surreal. "Everything you need is here, officer.” Scott handed him the paper. “May we leave?" "Of course,” he nodded. “I'm waiting for the investigators to get here." "For what?” Robin was too curious to hold his tongue. "This is now a possible crime scene, sir." [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirty-Four Robin had summoned David, who met them at the hospital in less than thirty minutes. He was frantic to hear about Jenna's condition and wanted to know what had transpired between the time he and Denise had left for lunch and the phone call from Robin. "As far as we know,” Robin explained, “Jenna left our office about two hours after you did. She was still there when Adrian arrived to talk to Susie, and then she left in a big hurry." "Who is Adrian?” David asked, a little perturbed that he didn't recognize the name. He hated when these things happened, worried that senility was setting in. "Adrian is Susie's—" "Boyfriend,” Scott interjected, saving Robin.

"Right,” Robin smiled. “Anyway, he went to the office to talk to the girls, and then she left." "Do you know what they talked about?” David asked. None of this was making any sense, and he was getting more and more disturbed. "It had something to do with the controlled substances at Ron's practice,” Scott answered. "Why?" "It seems that there has been one complaint too many, so the authorities have to check everything out, including alleged drug use. Adrian works in drug enforcement." "Are they accusing Jenna of being on drugs?” David was outraged. "Apparently, Ron blamed Jenna for several mistakes that have occurred over the last few weeks, and when asked how Mr. Lee may have been given the wrong medication, he hinted that drugs might be involved."

"Dear Lord,” David muttered, stunned by one more shocking revelation. He was emotionally exhausted, yet the hits kept on coming. Scott stepped closer to David, offering what little support he could. He knew that there was some truth to the accusation of drug use. Jenna had been taking something; he just didn't know how much, or even if it was a legitimate prescription as she'd claimed, rather than drugs pilfered from Ron's supply. “We'll get more answers when we can talk to Jenna." David nodded, grateful for Scott's calming presence. He hoped that Jenna would be able to clear up this mess and vindicate herself. A young doctor walked in, looking severely sleepdeprived, and interrupted their conversation. “Which one of you is Jenna's relative?" "I'm her father.” David stepped forward. “Is she okay?" "I'm sorry to tell you, but she has all the symptoms of

post-traumatic amnesia. She remembers nothing, sir, not even her name. Further testing will tell us more, but I wanted to warn you so that you know what to expect when you see her." "Oh dear God.” David's voice shook when he looked at his grandson. Scott felt for the man who'd had so many shocks to his system. It seemed cruel to add one more. “I'm sure she'll come out of this soon enough,” he said, trying to soothe David. “She's just had a traumatic experience. Jenna and Ron had a long history, David, and what we're seeing is the end of it. I think they both lost it and had a huge fight." "You think Jenna hurt him deliberately?" "I doubt it,” Scott replied, stone-faced. “She loves him too much." David sat down, buried his face in his hands, and began to cry quietly. Scott and Robin sat on either side of the old man, providing him with muchneeded support. Finally, Scott put his arms around

his grandfather and embraced him. “Lean on me, David." "Thank you,” David choked out, leaning into Scott and allowing himself to be held. After a few minutes, David pulled back and said, “May I see her?" "I don't see why not,” Scott replied, looking up at the doctor, who hadn't moved from his position. He nodded, and Scott and Robin helped David up from his seat, following the doctor down the hallway. Once inside Jenna's room, the men could see for themselves how bad off she was. She recognized none of them, but she did ask, “Where's Ron?" It was one of the saddest things Scott had ever seen, and his heart ached for the fractured woman in front of him. The Jenna he had known was gone. He knelt as Jenna's feet. “Hey,” he said gently. “It's Scott." "Scotty?” Jenna's face lit up briefly, shining with a beautiful light from deep within. Just as suddenly,

confusion took over, and tears fell from the sad green eyes that stared at their mirror image. There was a burning pain in Scott's throat, and his eyes stung with sharp tears when he heard Jenna call his name. “Do you remember me, Jenna?" "Scotty? Did Ron come too?" David turned and walked out. He couldn't bear to watch Jenna and Scott any longer. He stopped when he saw the doctor and asked, “Will we ever get her back?" "We don't know, sir. She seems to have retreated somewhere safer in her mind. Sometimes people snap right out of it, and other times they don't." "Thank you, Doctor,” David nodded. “I was wondering if it would be possible to see Dr. Morris? Has he regained consciousness?" "David.” Robin held him back. “Why even go there? "

"I have to, Robin." They waited for Scott to come out of Jenna's room, and they followed the doctor into the elevator that took them upstairs to the Intensive Care Unit. Ron Morris was in a curtained-off section, attached to different monitors. His wife, Julie, was sitting outside, and she jumped up when she saw the three men. “He can't have visitors,” she said, desperate to protect her husband. She had no idea what was going on, but she knew that his association with Scott and Robin had been terminated a while back. David, on the other hand, was a family friend. As the father of a longtime employee, he was afforded the courtesy of being allowed to see Ron alone, despite her initial statement. David stood over Ron's bed, looking down at the man who had destroyed his daughter. He could feel the blood rushing to his head, and his hands clenched into fists, moving of their own accord. He wanted to beat Ron to a pulp. Instead, he closed his eyes and said, “Can you hear me, Ron?" There was no response other than fluttering eyelids,

but the heart monitor bleeped a little faster, indicating some sort of physical reaction. David took it as a sign, and he knelt down, putting his mouth next to Ron's ear. "I want to say something before I go, Ron, in case you don't make it.” David put his hand on Ron's forearm and squeezed tightly, watching for some kind of reaction. “I'm a peaceful man, Ron, and a forgiving one, but regrettably, I can't find it in my heart to forgive you. What you've done to my daughter is unforgivable. You are the worst kind of zealot. You profess to be a good Christian, spouting rhetoric about family values and the effects of homosexuals on the sanctity of marriage even as you defile young women and make a mockery of the words ‘love’ and ‘honor'. I curse you from the depths of my soul. I will never get my daughter back because of what you've done. But there is one magnificent thing that will sustain me, Ron, something precious that you will never have, and believe me, if you were remotely aware of the loss you've incurred, you'd die right now." David waited, gratified to see the monitors spike

and bleep. He took it as another sign and continued with his speech. “I have faith in the power of prayer, Ron, and I'm going to pray that my Jenna will recover. At the same time, I'm going to pray that you don't. I hope that you continue to lay trapped somewhere in limbo between life and death. I think it's only fitting that you live long enough to wonder what this precious thing could be. I want you to think back on all the things you could have done right, even as God's angels are preparing to throw you into the jaws of the devil where you belong." The buzzer went off as the heart rate monitor almost bleeped off the screen, and David smiled for the first time during this long and trying day. He stepped aside as several nurses rushed in to check on the patient, concerned by the racket the machines were making. He stood and watched them go through the motions, privately thanking God for giving him the opportunity to have the moment alone with Ron. He hoped that his words reached the dark place where Ron was residing. He walked out of the enclosure, smiling even wider

when he saw Scott and Robin. "Come on, boys, I think we can all use a stiff drink,” he said, walking between them and tucking his arms through theirs as they left the building. Scott drove them home, while Robin pulled out his cell phone and called Denise to let her know they were on their way. He inquired about Susie and was informed that she and Adrian had left for parts unknown. The next question, of course, was about the dinner menu, and he breathed a sigh of relief when she told him that she had cooked and they would be fed. **** David had never been up to the house in Twin Peaks. He whistled approvingly when he saw the view and the intricate woodwork, so typical of the old Victorian homes. Even the refurbished ones retained a sense of charm that newer homes couldn't match. Denise was more gentle than normal around David, mindful of the fact that his daughter's life had changed drastically. She handed

him a glass of Merlot, which he accepted gratefully while Robin gave her an edited version of the most recent events. "How's Jenna?” Denise inquired as they moved into the dining room. She'd already set the table, placing the main course of meatloaf and mashed potatoes on trivets in the center of the table. Most people enjoyed her cooking, so she was hoping David wasn't going to turn it away. He looked at the simple meal and smiled, approving of her choice for dinner. "The doctor wasn't very encouraging, Denise." "Does anyone know what actually happened?" "We can only surmise,” Scott said quietly. “They must have had some sort of argument before Ron fell and hit his head. The police are investigating to rule out any foul play." "Well, thank God for that,” David said. “They've already blamed Jenna for everything else. She'll be able to shed some light on this situation as soon as she's better."

"The investigators are pretty thorough, David. They'll piece it all together, even without Jenna's input. And by the way, the employer is always responsible for the acts and omissions of the employee. Ron can't blame Jenna for anything when it comes to Washington Lee. The onus of that mistake lies squarely on his shoulders." "You think so, Scott?” David paused, holding a forkful of meatloaf in his hand. "I know so, David. Please don't worry about that anymore, okay?" "That's a great idea,” Denise concurred. “From here on, we'll think positive thoughts and pray for Jenna's speedy recovery." After dinner, David stood in the living room, looking out the picture window. San Francisco was visible, and that was a treat at this time of the year. Christmas was around the corner, and the fog was always dense in the evenings, but tonight the lights twinkled, and David was filled with hope. He knew

in his heart that Jenna would come out of it, and he was buoyed by the presence of his grandson and his spirited young man. Having Denise in his life was also a huge source of comfort, and he said a silent prayer of thanks. "You okay?” Scott asked gently, putting his arm around David. He nodded. “I'm fine, son. Are you?" "I'll continue to hope, David,” Scott answered softly. “Jenna and I have a lot of catching up to do, and I hope that we're lucky enough to get the chance. Call me if you ever need me, okay?" "Thank you,” David replied, blinking back a few tears. "We're part of your family now, and we've got to stick together." "I don't deserve you, Scott." "Yes, you do.” Scott hugged him tighter and kissed

him on the cheek. “How about some brandy to help you sleep tonight?" "That sounds great. Do you guys have a favorite watering hole?" "Not really, David. Robin and I aren't big drinkers,” Scott replied, smiling as Robin wandered over to listen to the conversation. "Oh. What do you enjoy?” David asked innocently. Scott looked at Robin and blushed furiously. “We're homebodies, David. We like to work around the house and sort of putter,” Scott said haltingly. "Yeah,” Robin replied. “I'm pretty handy with tools,” he grinned, loving Scott's face. He was beet red and giving him dagger looks. "You'll have to show me your workshop some day,” David said. "We call it a playroom,” Robin replied, unable to stop the words from spilling out. He was sick of this

long day and all the drama. They needed some levity, and watching his beautiful sub turn four shades of pink was better than nothing. “You like power tools?” he asked David. "Robin,” Scott said, a little rougher than he'd intended. He was freaking out, worried that David might ask to see the playroom. Robin caved, knowing he couldn't take this any further, so he leaned in and kissed Scott on the lips. “Oops, I'm sorry,” he said, turning to David, sure that he'd embarrassed him. "What did I tell you in the car?” David asked. "What?” Robin had forgotten most of that conversation. "I'm cool with this." Robin whooped and threw his arms around David, squeezing him tightly. “That's right, old man. You are way cool."

"And you, young man, are a handful! It must be all that red hair,” David smiled, cuffing Robin gently. Scott laughed, relieved that David could actually joke despite the horrendous day. “I think it's time for some of Denise's chocolate cake.” Scott pulled David back toward the kitchen. “You like chocolate, David?" "Who doesn't?" "Come on,” Robin teased. “Did you know that dark chocolate is considered an aphrodisiac?" "Really? Exactly how much do I need to eat to feel the effects?" Robin busted out laughing. “Mama, you're in big trouble,” he yelled, sprinting away from David, who was getting ready to cuff him again. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirty-Five The BDSM club in San Ramon had been converted into a fantasy world of decadent beauty. Members spared no expense in trying to outdo one another, and the evening became the perfect backdrop for showing off. The recurring theme seemed to be Italian Renaissance, judging from the multitude of masks that were either made in Italy or were cheap imitations. The time and energy spent on the occasion wasn't surprising at all, considering the patrons’ affinity for scenes and playacting. Everyone had invested an inordinate amount on costumes that ranged from the simplest to the most elaborate and bizarre. Waiters wore black leather thongs and Roman sandals with crisscrossing strips of leather that climbed up their calves. They had ornate masks in an exotic bird theme, covering their entire head in a variety of colors like the beautiful animals they emulated.

Robin had elected to come in black leather, springing for the uber-Dominant look, something he could never have afforded in the past. It felt good to hold his own in the company of his peers, who had previously tolerated his civilian attire. They'd known he was a starving student, and they never let him forget, teasing him fondly, calling him the Bartender Dom. Despite his seeming good humor in accepting their jokes, it had rankled. Tonight, when he'd walked in the club with Scott trailing behind him, he felt the interest they generated, and his heart soared with pride. He knew the club members were blown away. Robin wasn't conscious of his own appeal, never considering that he too was a beauty in his own right. He looked stunning in black, the perfect foil to his fiery hair color. His body was a sinuous mix of strength and panther-like grace that had attracted patrons in the past, and tonight was no different. All eyes turned as the redhead moved across the room, with the scrumptious blond dressed in caramel-colored leather walking to heel behind him. Robin stopped to greet a group of Dominants. He

was pleased that Scott knew to pause and get down on his knees as the other Doms gathered around Robin. “It's about time you showed that red mop of yours,” a deep voice broke through the crowd. Robin grinned, delighted to see his friend. “Liam, you old pervert, how are you?" "Same as ever, Red." "Still twisted, I hope,” Robin commented snidely, backslapping and hugging at the same time. "As ever,” Liam replied. He'd taken Robin under his wing many years ago and felt a fatherly affection toward the man he'd dubbed Red. “I understand that tonight's a special night for you and your boy." Robin beamed and nodded his head. “Stand up, love. Let Liam look at you." Scott rose but kept his head down respectfully. He was completely into his submissive role, which pleased Robin.

Liam looked at Scott critically, inspecting the man who'd ensnared Red. This was the sub who'd managed to tame his wild friend, and he could understand the attraction. If the sub's mind was anything like his face and body, he had his vote. "Look at me, boy.” Liam's voice demanded a response. Scott raised his head. The leonine mask covered everything but his mouth, although the mesmerizing green eyes sparkled and were easily discernible through the slits in the papier-mache. “He's beautiful, Red. Is there any reason why I can't remove his mask?" "He's not out, Liam. Leave it on." "What about in private amongst friends?" "That's different." "Then by all means,” Liam took Scott by the hand, “let's adjourn to one of the private rooms so I can inspect at will."

Robin gently disengaged Liam, leaving no doubt who was Scott's Master. “Later, buddy. I'll let you know if and when we're prepared to go that route." "Red....” Liam possessive?"

looked

bemused.

“A

little

"A lot possessive,” Robin declared. “Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a collaring ceremony to prepare for." Robin walked away, knowing that he'd started a new round of gossip. He was surprised how quickly he'd reacted; Liam's assumption that he could have a piece of Scott angered him. This wasn't exactly what he had in mind when he'd daydreamed about a public collaring. He only wanted to show off his lover. He'd forgotten how predatory some members could be. And just in case he had any doubts, another old friend stopped him to say hello and admire Scott's ass by running his hand over it gently. "Leave him be, Gerard,” Robin admonished.

"Come now, Red. I'm only admiring your boy." "Don't!” Robin barked, getting more annoyed by the minute. He headed toward the bar, making sure Scott followed. “Sorry about that, love,” Robin muttered, loud enough for Scott to hear. "It's okay,” Scott replied. “Nothing happened." "Next person who touches you may end up with a broken arm,” Robin grumbled. Scott smiled and continued to follow behind his Master. He hadn't walked behind a Dom in a long time, and even though he and Robin were as in tune as any two humans could possibly be, it still took talent to heel. It was expected of a sub, and Scott had every intention of making Red proud; one way of doing that was to follow the etiquette of this world. Scott could feel a hundred eyes devouring him. He was grateful for the mask, because his outfit left hardly any room for imagination. He had been flabbergasted when Robin pulled it out of the box. The leather was as soft as velvet and fit him like a

second skin. His ass was completely bare but for the few strips of leather, and if the pants got any tighter, they'd rip from top to bottom. His cock felt huge in the loose pouch that was sewn into the pants, supposedly to accommodate any sort of chastity device. Robin had chosen not to put him in a cage, since they weren't going to “perform.” He'd decided at the last minute that he didn't want to show Scott off that much. It almost felt like Robin was having second thoughts about the whole collaring scene, but they were here, so Scott let Robin take the lead; it was Robin's night and his fantasy, after all. Robin paused for a second, so Scott stopped as well. A younger member in a harlequin mask walked up to them. “You both look incredible,” he said, addressing Robin. "Thanks to you,” Robin acknowledged. “Scott, I'd like you to meet Mitchell Bryant. He's the one who helped get our outfits together." Scott nodded a greeting, trying to get a handle on the man who'd made him so miserable. He could

only see part of his face, but what he did see failed to impress him. He appeared a little too interested in Robin, which led to Scott's first really uncomfortable moment of the night. The lascivious looks that were cast his way didn't bother him as much as the interested glimmer in Mitchell's eye as he tried to hold Robin's attention. "Hey, Doc,” Mitchell responded automatically, never taking his eyes off Robin. “You look great." Scott acknowledged the compliment with an insipid smile. He still wasn't one hundred percent satisfied that Mitchell didn't want to jump Robin's bones. "Let's get a drink, love." "Yes,” Scott agreed quickly, eager to be rid of Mitchell. He also needed a drink to fortify himself. He was getting more and more uncomfortable with the thought of standing on stage. Even though he and Robin weren't going to have a scene, they'd still be baring their souls publicly in what should have been, to his mind, a very private occasion.

"Are you having a good time?” Scott asked after Robin downed his second shot glass of tequila. "Not really. Are you?" "This isn't about me, Red. You're the one who needed a public ceremony." "Do I have the right to change my mind?" "Do you want to?" "I do. I don't know what I was thinking. I've always hated the club scene, and I don't understand where my mind was when I suggested this." "You did what you had to do. We can stay if you'd like to finish this." "No.” Robin took Scott's hand and laced their fingers. “Walk beside me, love. Don't heel." "Are you sure?" "Positive."

Robin never let go of Scott's hand as they moved across the crowded room as a unit. They looked incredible together, the blond in golden brown and the redhead in black. Members gawked, confused to see them walking side by side. As they were about to exit, Liam intercepted them. “Leaving so soon?" Robin nodded. “We've decided to have our own party." "There are a lot of people who were looking forward to this collaring, Red." "I'm sorry, Liam." "Are we ever going to see you guys again?" "You never know neighborhood."

when we'll

"Don't be a stranger, Red." "See ya, Liam."

be

in this

**** Robin sat in the passenger seat and looked out the window as they sped toward home. He was disappointed in himself. His need to compete and prove his worth with an ostentatious display of wealth wasn't as satisfying as he thought it would be. He'd always considered himself a secure individual, and despite the extreme poverty of his youth, Denise had instilled a sense of self-worth that had sustained him throughout his life. This sudden urge to flaunt his success at the club had taken him by surprise. He was glad that he'd come to his senses tonight and grateful to Scott for allowing him the opportunity to get it out of his system. Now he was really looking forward to the collaring ceremony; it was for all the right reasons and in the privacy of their own playroom. The only thing that mattered was that he and Scott had an understanding of their unique and powerful dynamic; he didn't need the entire BDSM world's approval. He reached for his phone and speed dialed

Denise. She answered on the second ring, sounding very surprised to hear his voice. “Hey, Ma. There was a change of plans, and we're on our way back home." Denise assured him that he would have all the privacy he needed, since she was spending the night in Sausalito with David. Robin's mouth dropped open in shock, but she hung up before he could even think of something witty to say. "What the fuck." "What is it, Red?" "My mother and your grandfather are having a fucking sleepover in Sausalito." "I'm pretty sure they're just sleeping,” Scott snorted. Robin rolled his eyes and made gagging sounds. Scott cuffed him, trying not to lose control of the car as he started to laugh.

As soon as the car pulled into their garage and the door rolled down, Robin pounced. He latched onto Scott's mouth, possessing him with blistering kisses. They made their way into the house awkwardly, refusing to let go of each other. Robin released Scott for one second to disengage the house alarm but didn't bother turning on the lights. He was determined to partake of the feast that had been tempting him all night. The idea that every man at the club wanted his boy made it even more urgent. Scott's outfit had done exactly what it was supposed to do. Robin had a raging hard-on that would only be satisfied when he plunged himself in between the luscious cheeks that he'd been admiring for the last three hours. He moaned loudly as his hands squeezed and caressed, incensed by the feel of Scott's matching boner. “I need you now,” he growled, feeling possessive and territorial. "Take whatever you need, Master. I'm yours." "Mine,” Robin moaned, further aroused by Scott's response. He draped him over the kitchen table, searching frantically for the lube they kept in every room of the house.

room of the house. "Drawer,” Scott breathed. Robin fumbled with the snaps on the front of Scott's pants, and he managed to open the leather piece with one hand while he rooted around in the drawer with the other. Robin found the lube, pushed his too-tight pants down his thighs, and slicked himself expertly, rubbing a generous glob of the slippery gel in and around Scott's quivering asshole. Scott moaned loudly and spread his legs wider, giving his Dom maximum advantage. "This outfit was made for sex,” Robin hissed, sliding Scott's vest off his shoulders, leaving his boy bare from the waist up. He stepped back for a second and admired the sight of the golden man bending over the table, legs spread, ass cheeks fully uncovered. "You're fucking beautiful, baby.” Robin grabbed Scott by the hips and impaled him, driving ballsdeep into his private heaven, loving the welcoming squeeze. “Oh my fucking God,” he sighed with relief, “you are so mine."

"Yours, Master.” The words exploded out of Scott's throat as the tip of Robin's cock nudged his prostate. He whimpered when Robin withdrew, huffed in protest as Robin pushed back into him, and finally let out the scream he'd been stifling when Robin hit his sweet spot over and over, causing an explosion of pleasure in his brain. "Master!" "Mine,” Robin howled, slamming into his sub, finally claiming what was his. He clutched at Scott, hanging onto the tight brown leather that wrapped around Scott's hips, grateful for the intricate design of the chaps, which allowed him to fuck Scott into oblivion without destroying the outfit. He wrapped a hand around Scott's dripping cock, pumping him in time with the movement of his hips, and they raced to the finish, driven by each other's desire. It was hot and rough and so very satisfying. "Master,” Scott cried out, minutes before ribbons of come shot out of him, covering Robin's hand and creaming the table.

"Mine.” Robin growled out the word as his orgasm ripped through him like a grass fire out of control. He pressed his mouth against the soft flesh near Scott's neck and sucked up several marks. "I love you.” Scott collapsed on the table with Robin's full weight heavy on his back. Robin could hear Scott's heart beating wildly even as his own body thrummed and vibrated. “Love you more,” he sighed, kissing Scott's neck before he pulled out. He pushed his pants down his thighs and kicked them off, hearing the heavy thud of the expensive leather as it landed in a corner of the kitchen. He then took Scott by the hand and led him down the stairs on shaky limbs. When they got to the playroom, Robin began the tedious process of removing Scott's skintight pants. “You looked gorgeous tonight, love." "These pants are unreal. I feel like a caramel dessert of sorts."

"My very own dulce de leche,” Robin teased. “I can't wait to lick up every sweet part of you." Scott smiled and moved a little closer. “Do I get to wear this outfit again?" "Just for me." "Why?" "I hated sharing. Everyone at the club wanted a piece of you; it was making me nuts." Scott chuckled softly. “I know." "I'm selfish." "In the best possible way.” Scott smiled. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?” Robin asked. "I've got a pretty good idea,” Scott answered, losing a breath when Robin began to lick and bite at his nipple.

"God, you make me crazy,” Robin mumbled, aroused once again. “You may never get to wear this outfit again if you don't get out of it soon. I'm afraid I may rip it to shreds." "Don't do that, Red. I like it." "Do you?" "Yes. You went to a lot of trouble for this." "It was dumb, an object lesson in pride." "I know, but it's a part of you I love. Did I make you proud tonight?" "Baby"—Robin leaned in and kissed him gently on the mouth—"you make me proud every minute of the day. I adore you,” he said softly, filled with love for the complex man whom he was fortunate to share his life with. Tonight was like a new beginning for them. So much baggage had been shed in the last few days, it felt absolutely liberating. He pulled out the necklace that he'd wrapped in

tissue earlier in the evening. It gleamed in its richness. “This is only a symbol of my love, Scott, not ownership, as it is for most people in our lifestyle. I want you to understand that." "But you do own me, Red, body and soul." Robin pulled Scott toward him and kissed him deeply, very much affected by those words. “You know the feeling is mutual, don't you?" "Yes." "Honor me by wearing this." Scott took the necklace and admired the intricate design. He noticed the clasp, and a blush licked his cheek after reading the inscription: Love is the bond. "Thank you,” he acknowledged in a voice turned husky with emotion. “It's beautiful, Red. I wish you could wear something similar. Do you think we can have another one made for you?"

"We can do anything we want, love." "Would you wear it, even if you're the Master?" "I'd walk on my hands if it made you happy. Of course I'd wear it." "Thank you.” Scott's reply was followed by a deep kiss that melted them both. Robin placed the collar around Scott's neck and locked it in place. “You are mine, love." "Long before I had a collar." "I know, but seeing it on you makes it more real. I want to make love to you again." Scott's smile could have lit up the entire city of San Francisco. “You always know what to say." "I'm romantic as fuck." "You are romantic, Red, much more than I realized." "You bring out that side of me,” Robin purred,

nuzzling Scott's neck. “Are we done talking?" "Yes." "Good. Now think romance, babe. Kiss me like you mean it." "Yes, Master." [Back to Table of Contents]

Epilogue One month later Ron Morris died two weeks after the accident, never regaining consciousness. The crime scene investigators determined that the cause of death was blunt force trauma brought on by his accidental fall. There was no evidence to indicate that a crime had occurred. The DEA had done a cursory examination of the drug records and did not come up with any obvious anomalies. Every pill had its corresponding patient, and Adrian didn't go the extra mile to prove that any of it was fabricated. Ron's insurance company coughed up the money owed to Washington Lee for trauma and suffering. They also paid for Jenna's medical expenses, since technically, she was still an employee and covered under the company plan. Ron's estate was decimated; his wife and heirs were left with nothing but bills. His funeral, however, was well attended, considering how many years

he'd been in practice. There were friends and associates from all over the Bay Area, but the absence of his current and former employees didn't go unnoticed by his colleagues. They knew he'd had a falling out with Scott for all the wrong reasons. After reading the obituary and a short blurb describing the funeral, Scott vowed never to mention Ron's name again, and Robin was more than happy to help him comply. The only one who would miss him was Jenna; she continued to ask for Ron on a daily basis. Jenna had not improved much since the night her brain decided to check out. She appeared to recognize no one, but she always smiled when Scott appeared. David continued to hope and pray for her. The doctors assured him that his visits could only help, so he would stop by every day bringing flowers and an occasional candy bar, which seemed to cheer her up. Once a week Scott and Robin would join him, and Jenna's smile only reassured them that she was on the mend. On weekdays, David would walk to the dental office

after visiting his daughter. He'd sit in the waiting room browsing through magazines until it was time for lunch, and then he and Denise would leave together to enjoy a light meal before spending the afternoon exploring the city. David was happy to play tour guide to Denise, who'd lived in the East Bay all her life. San Francisco was still a city to be unwrapped by the gentle man who knew it very well. They'd become quite the item, and most people who saw them together couldn't help but smile. Denise's quiet presence made a world of difference to David's state of mind. Before she moved back to her apartment in San Ramon, David had broached the subject of her remaining in the city. He offered her a room in his now-empty house, rent-free and commitment-free as well. David was quite aware of Denise's independent streak and accepted the fact that she would never agree to a marriage, but he hoped that he might entice her with the next best thing. She promised to think about it but said that she needed a few weeks back in her own environment. She was planning on returning to San Francisco to spend the

Christmas holidays with her men. They were going to have a full house this year: David and Denise, Susie and Adrian, and the Gregorys, who had been delighted to receive their first invitation from Scott in many years. Even Jenna might attend if the convalescent home felt she was well enough. The biggest surprise in the month of surprises was Susie and Adrian. She'd quit her job as professional Domme and moved out of her apartment as well. Adrian had finally convinced her to give their relationship a chance. It all came to a head the day she walked into her apartment and saw Adrian sitting at the table watching Simon lick up the Fancy Feast he'd plated for him. The fact that her cat approved of her sub made a world of difference, and she told him so, laughing at his shocked outrage in having his future decided by her temperamental feline. His protests were met by scorching kisses while she began to tie him up in a new and intricate design she'd learned from Anya. What more could a girl ask for than two happy pets? Scott and Robin gave each other an early Christmas present with a quick getaway up to Lake

Christmas present with a quick getaway up to Lake Tahoe, where Scott made good on his promise to introduce his Master to the exhilarating world of snowboarding. It was a delicious weekend filled with endless thrills on the mountaintop and memorable nights in each other's arms. "Red?" "Yeah, baby?” Robin could barely keep his eyes open, half-dead from the workout on the mountain this afternoon and the mind-numbing blowjob he'd just received at the hands of his talented submissive. Scott's head was resting on Robin's thigh, his warm breath tickling his cock, which was still pulsating from the aftershock of his orgasm. "I have a new fantasy." "Oh God,” Robin groaned, even as his dick twitched in anticipation. “What now?" "You know how I let you put that nipple ring on me?" "Uh huh,” Robin replied, a little wary of where this was heading.

"I want you to wear a guiche." "Oh hell no!" "Please, Red? Think about how good it would feel having me twirl it around my tongue just before rimming you." "Why is this thought making me hard instead of sending me off screaming for help?" "I can do it for you." "How long have you been planning this, you little sneak?" "It's been on my mind for a while." "Is this what you do when I'm not around? Think up different ways to torture your Master?" "Never torture, my Master. Think of the joy you'd receive." "Did you bring the stuff?"

"I'm always prepared,” Scott replied, feeling his own erection pressing against the mattress. "You and the Boy Scouts,” Robin joked. “Go ahead, love. Bring it on." "You want ice or anesthetic?" "Ice, by all means... and Scott?" "Yeah?" "You're up next." [Back to Table of Contents]

Don't miss how Scott and Robin's story started in IMPACTED By Mickie B. Ashling [Back to Table of Contents]

Mickie B. Ashling began writing stories about men who love men around the time she discovered Queer as Folk in 2002. The characters on that show intrigued her, and ground-breaking writers such as Patricia Nell Warren inspired her. She began to write the kind of stories that she enjoyed reading, spurred on by her muse, who really has this thing for hunky men getting it on. Mickie has lived in the Philippines, Spain, the Middle East, and San Francisco but currently resides in a quiet suburb outside Chicago. She's a respectable office manager by day and a proud mother of four grown men who continue to wonder where this interest in gay romance has come from. They shake their heads and scratch their chins but ultimately leave her alone. They know better than to mess with Mama's choices. Mickie's first love is writing, but traveling is a close second. Her dream is to be able to quit her day job soon so she can devote all her time and energy doing what she loves best.

Visit Mickie's web site at mickieashling.com and her blog at mickieashling.livejournal.com/. You can contact her at [email protected]. [Back to Table of Contents]

Published by Dreamspinner Press 4760 Preston Road Suite 244-149 Frisco, TX 75034 www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Bonds of Love Copyright (C) 2010 by Mickie B. Ashling Cover Art by Anne Cain [email protected]

Cover Design by Mara McKennen All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ ISBN: 978-1-61581-366-7 Printed in the United States of America First Edition April, 2010 eBook edition available eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-367-4

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