And let’s go upstairs. “He laughed and pushed me down in the lunch line. Thought he was going to kick me, but the lunch lady stepped in.”
“Did he get in trouble?” Her frown mimics the one my sister had so long ago, disgusted with the possible injustice.
“Three day suspension. He promised to kill me as soon as he got back so I told my daddy I was done with school, focusing on ranching from that day on.”
She laughs, and her whole face lights up. “I can see you, “little’Alex announcing your plans. Stomping your booted foot. How’d that work out?”
“Not as well as I’d planned.” I grin at the remembrance of the utter shock on my daddy’s face. “Luckily, my sister stepped in. She had a flyer from school about a martial arts place that was running classes on Wednesdays after school and they even had a bus to pick us up.” I shrug because one thing led to another. It’s obvious.
“So you went to Karate class and that led to ropes?” Her forehead wrinkles. So dang cute.
“Jiu Jitsu. It was the coolest thing I’d ever done. Different from everything that came before. As far from Texas and ranching as a boy could get. I was hooked—had to know everything about it. I checked books out of the library. That led to Hojojutsu as I got older. Eventually, I convinced the sensei to help me with some of the ties. I was well familiar with working with ropes on the ranch, leading horses around, helping my dad rope the calf legs. Hell, I even did some rodeo events.”
Her face softens and she stares at me for a quiet moment as if she can see me as a kid.
“But roping on the ranch is not precision, artistry, control. It’s nothing like Shibari.”
“What about your bully?”
“He backed off. Turns out, the older kids in the Jiu Jitsu class didn’t put up with anyone picking on the younger ones. I think they made it clear to George that if he hit me again, they would spend an afternoon teaching him what it felt like to get picked on my someone bigger.”
“So this bully George is the blame for you hanging out in dungeons and tying up woman?” Her tone is teasing, but there’s something deeper in the question.
I give her the most irreverent answer I can to hopefully stop her digging into me and my past. “I should probably write him a thank you note or something.”
“Rodeos and Jiu Jitsu explains your fascination with rope. But how does that translate into BDSM? I’m guessing your small town didn’t have a dungeon.”
Doesn’t sound like a guess. I never mentioned how big the town was. “Wasn’t too small for an internet connection. You’d be amazed what videos there are to be found if you dig deep enough.”
She drops her head and her cheeks turn red.
“Or maybe you wouldn’t be. Done some surfing?”
“A bit. But back to the Yacht Club.” She scoots away adjusting her notebook. “If you could only tell people one thing about it, what would you say?”
“It’s a bucket list experience.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, scribbling more notes.
“There are a lot of dungeons out there. Some people even host events in their home, converted basements and all that.”
She nods as if she’s trying to figure out who she knows with a basement.
“But the Yacht Club will be complete indulgence. Best food, best relaxation, best dungeon. Few will be able to afford a membership, but many will be able to splurge on a once-in-a-lifetime visit.”
“How will you keep people from being outed? I imagine some of the very wealthy are also very famous.”
“Without pictures, can’t prove it ever happened. They might say something to their friends who are in the community, but even if they say something more publicly, who’ll believe them. Pictures or it never happened, right?”
“Right.” She rolls her lower lip between her teeth, her gaze drops to her notebook and she goes silent.
Did I say something rude? “Eliot and his crew are experts in security. They won’t let anything happen. You wouldn’t believe the wiring they had me build into the place. Pretty sure I could run a data center in the basement if the dungeon fails.”
She barely reacts.
“Did you have any more questions?” Please talk to me again. I’m a total bastard and I don’t even know what I’ve done.
SJ clutches her notebook to her chest and stands. “No. I’m good for now. Have enough to work with. Thanks.”
