She replied with a dutiful, “Yes, sir,” but her eyes betrayed her excitement as she eagerly rushed to comply.
Room 6 was the e-stim room, which the entire club knew Eric’s sub very much enjoyed. Getting her way and receiving punishment in a manner few excelled at, other than her dominant husband, was a win-win for them both.
Chapter 6
What Have You Got to Lose?
HER ONE O’CLOCK CLIENTcanceled, giving Fiona the rare opportunity to go out for lunch and a full hour to do so. Usually, she scarfed down something at her desk, either ordered in or out of the vending machine. It was a warm but breezy day in LA, so she walked to the strip mall two blocks over, grabbed a yogurt parfait, then ate while she shopped because, as luck would have it, a sidewalk sale was happening.
She detoured around the lingerie store where she’d bought all of her club wear. Not the glitzy, trendy dresses up front, but the much more daring fetish wear they kept in a room in the back. She’d never been brave enough to reveal all—or nearly all—like many of the subs did. Instead, she’d stuck to short, body-hugging but less revealing dresses, which, in hindsight, might have been part of her problem.
Flipping through a 50-percent-off rack at a boutique where she liked to browse but rarely could afford to buy from, she looked up, hearing her name called. Two women, a petite blonde and a stunning redhead, were hurrying toward her.
Fiona closed her eyes, dreading the encounter. The day after the incident, Val had called to check on her. She sent the call to voice mail and later erased her message without listening to it.After all she’d done for her, it was a shitty thing to do, but Fiona was determined to make a clean break.
Master Eric called, too, as did Esme, both leaving messages. She’d ignored all of them, except for the call from an unknown number that came late in the day. Curiosity got the best of her, and she listened to the message. When she heard Doc’s deep voice, she wished she hadn’t, because it came with a pang of regret and longing.
“The others tell me you aren’t answering their calls and messages. It concerns me you’ve cut off all contact with the club. If you’re still having symptoms, see someone. If they’re other than physical, such as anxiety, nightmares, intrusive thoughts, reach out to Val. She’s a clinical social worker who can help or will refer you to someone who can. You could call me, but I’ve been called away on business. I’ll be out of the country just short of a month.” There was a brief pause before he continued in a softer, less clinical voice. “It’s understandable if you’re struggling after what happened. Please, reach out. That’s the benefit of a community. You don’t have to go through this alone. I hope to see you healthy and happy at the club when I return. If not, I truly wish you well, Fiona.”
When the message ended, she’d stared at her phone a long time trying to figure out who the real Doc was. Perhaps his decent side came with the cloak of professionalism when he put on his doctor’s hat. Too bad he turned into mean, fat-shaming, foul-mouthed Mr. Hyde when at the bar surrounded by his friends.
She deleted his message then heaved a sigh of relief. With Doc gone, that was one less caller she’d have to ignore.
Esme and Val’s attempts went on for a week, however. The following Thursday, the morning after girls’ night out, Fiona’s phone alerted with a text message.
Valerie:We looked for you last night. I hope you’re okay after what happened last week. Please call me so we can talk.
Esme also texted:I’m sorry you couldn’t make it last night, Fiona. If you need to vent to someone, I’m a good listener. Call anytime.
The next time her phone alerted, it was an email from Master Eric.
I received your email about not renewing your membership. The situation with Jordan was unfortunate, but you don’t need to worry about him anymore. Let’s talk about this first. I’ll hold your spot open through the end of the month. Call me, and I’ll make time for you.
She didn’t have to screen any more calls after that. They stopped. But she couldn’t screen, ignore, or delete the two women rushing toward her, not anymore.
They were slightly winded when they reached her and stood in awkward silence with the clearance rack between them until Esme said quietly, “You’re looking good, Fiona. Are you...better?”
“I’m fine, thank you. But I can’t chat for long. I’m on my lunch break and have to get back to work.”
“We’ve been worried about you.”
She couldn’t hold her gaze, or Val’s, who had yet to say anything.
“I know. I should have called and explained, but I wasn’t up to talking.”
