Chapter 15 #2
Her quick insight impressed him. And if she didn’t know who he was, he was more than happy to keep it that way.
“I wouldn’t call you a sapling,” she continued. “Shoulders are wide, arms are strong, and you move with grace and power, like a seasoned stage performer. Your eyes also pack a hell of a punch. I’m Madison, the store owner. Welcome.”
Maybe because almost every woman flirted with him, or had to make a visible effort not to be flustered in his presence, he recognized the absence of those things right off.
Madison was in her thirties, with a great body, beautiful eyes, thick brown hair and a touchable face.
Her black knit skirt was high on her thighs, the flowing sleeves of her sheer lavender blouse held at her elbows by tied drawstrings.
The coin-sized mirrors embroidered in the V-necked shirt reflected the store lights.
The demi bra beneath the blouse was a darker shade of purple, and a dark green sash showed off her trim waist, plus the full breasts and generous hips. Chunky purple and green gemstone earrings dangled next to her throat. She wore a matching anklet on one of her black calf boots.
Her silver choker looked a lot like a collar, with a heart-shaped lock. DJ bet Logan had the key to that collar.
“Are you looking for something in particular, or were you just trying to drive him crazy?” Her green-gold hazel eyes had a diamond twinkle.
“He punched the gas on crazy long before he met me.”
Madison chuckled. “Have you explored this together, or with anyone else? I’m not being nosy, and you don’t have to share. It just helps me steer you toward your interests.”
It was a decent attempt to dispel his sudden tension, but what did it matter if his deepest, darkest needs were splashed across the headlines? The things they gloated over today, as if they’d learned something special to gain power over him, were forgotten tomorrow.
He knew what a power exchange really was.
Also, whether the afterlife was a white bearded guy, a bunch of dandelion floating souls, or a drifting collective murmuration, he was sure they wouldn’t give two rat fucks about what social media said about him.
If they did all become dandelion-firefly sparks, would he know the ones that were Steve, Tal and Pete? Would they know him? Were Steve and Lonnie floating together?
He suppressed the wave of dizziness. Roy might be right about him not eating enough. “Sorry. Can’t seem to stay out of my head. I don’t do it all that well on a good day, and today…well, it’s not so good. I’m pretty off.”
“You’re doing fine.” The kindness in her voice was a meal that offered generous helpings. “Looks like your subconscious is doing the shopping for you.”
He’d started fingering the merchandise again, moving from a wooden paddle with a Naughty cut out, to a pair of Velcro cuffs.
His hand wanted to crawl inside the tunnel of the cuff like a woodland creature and find solace in its hold.
Another chain attached to the one joining the cuffs.
A smaller cuff dangled at its end, also adjustable. For girth, which was good.
Would Roy make it tight, so DJ felt its bite when his cock got hard, reminding him it was Roy’s to play with? To command? Another chain on the back of the collar fell straight down the wall, thanks to the weight of a thick hook. The chain was long enough to reach his ass crack.
Whoa. Yikes. His buttocks clenched, imagining where that hook was supposed to go, him pushed onto his toes as Roy pulled the chain taut between his ass and the collar.
“There are straps here for the waist and thighs, to hold the hook in place, and keep pressure off the throat.” Madison pointed them out.
“You can accessorize it to wrap another strap around the testicles, and add weights. Or nipple clamps and a spreader bar. The chains can connect all of them and increase the restriction.”
“The BDSM version of the weighted blanket.”
“Yes.” Her pleased expression told him he’d passed the BDSM 101 test.
Understanding wasn’t experience, but fantasies and the Internet filled in a lot of blanks.
Plus having a sexual Dominant as a bodyguard.
She pointed to several glossy boxes beneath the display. “The largest one holds the full kit. The one on top is the basic system. It’s more affordable, but still top end quality and made to last.”
More affordable. She definitely didn’t know who he was. While they’d been standing here, he’d earned five figures.
His worn jeans, old boots and faded T-shirt didn’t scream discretionary spending. His jewelry was Gilda’s bracelet and a trio of cranberry-colored lava bead bracelets on one wrist, plus his ichthys. Roy’s button-down shirt, the one he’d let DJ have after the shooting, was open over the T-shirt.
But as he looked at the items, he was at a loss for what to say. When he started to step back, she put a hand on his arm.
“I apologize. I usually know when to give a customer time to breathe, not be the intrusive shopkeeper. My timing is off.”
“No,” he told her honestly. “You just took it from fantasy to reality, and that’s a whole mess of variables we haven’t…I haven’t…dealt with. It’s like buying someone a Christmas gift before you’re sure that’s what he really wants.”
Those shrewd eyes sharpened. “Yes. As a sub, buying a gift for a Dom without his guidance feels presumptuous. Like you’re trying to top from the bottom.”
His tension eased some. “You nailed it. I didn’t know how to describe why it felt wrong. You know your shit. Your stuff, sorry.”
Her fair cheeks turned pink, and she laughed at herself. “I also respond to praise. You have enough alpha to you that the sub in me auto-reacts.”
“I’m getting a crush on you, even though I’m a sub, too.” One who responds to praise as well, according to my bodyguard. And Master.
She nudged him with her hip and shifted back to smooth practicality. “Do you want me to show you anything in particular, or would you like to browse unmolested?”
“I like how you explain things, and where my head goes when you do. Do you happen to have a notepad I can borrow or buy?” The envelope crackling in his pocket wasn’t going to be enough for the notes he’d probably make.
Madison snagged a lined notepad from a stack of them on the checkout counter. The header said My Wishlist, Sir. Or Ma’am. Next to the words was a picture of a kneeling, naked male, tied with strategically placed rope.
“That works.” It would also give Moss a needed laugh if DJ sent him a snapshot of the list.
That was a shock, too, the thought that he should send Moss evidence he was working on something.
While Moss hadn’t been totally on board about the concept DJ was in this store to research, at this point he’d likely be fine with DJ prancing around in a Gumby costume singing Sesame Street songs, if it got DJ back into a studio or on stage.
Over the next twenty minutes, Madison showed DJ what her store had to offer. She didn’t linger long on what didn’t interest him, and answered his questions about the things that did with insights that displayed her understanding of what her wares could inspire and motivate.
They weren’t interrupted. It was early in the day for erotic shopping; in a big city, most places like this opened at noon. She’d opened at ten and was in a small town. But maybe Roy was keeping out a world that universally recognized DJ.
When they returned to her checkout counter, DJ saw pricy collars, nipple jewelry, and glittering cock rings under the glass. He imagined wearing one on stage, under his clothes. Roy would put it on him, just before the show started.
He backed away from the thoughts for now, because he’d reached his threshold. Anything that felt too good to think about also hurt. He provided the card with the name and address of Moss’s agency for the items he’d picked out. She’d said she could ship them.
The show must go on.
Who the fuck says?
But life goes on
Whether we ask it to or not.
Madison’s fingertips brushed his hand, drawing his attention to his fist resting on the counter, his knuckles white. She gave him a serious look.
“Success is a gift, Mr. James. But it’s isolating, when you’re dealing with something difficult. Everyone thinks, what does he have to complain about. Right?”
“I felt like I was getting away with something,” he said slowly. “That you didn’t recognize me.”
“It took me a few moments. The disguise works, but I pay closer attention to my clients than most. But that’s also the point. You came in here as a client, not as a celebrity. I was respecting that. I do like your songs, very much. There are several on my playlists.”
“You don’t act like most women do around me. Even those who try to act cool about it have some starry-eyedness or tongue tripping. I don’t mind it, not really, but today...just, thanks. And it’s just DJ.”
“Well, I am a super cool shopkeeper, but I can show you why I’m not all agog.” She fluttered her lashes at him. “And it’s not just because you prefer men.”
Before he could decide whether to correct that impression, she waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, you’re bisexual, but right now you’re homo-monogamous.”
She tilted her head toward a curtain behind her. “My storage area connects to the place next door. Follow me.”
He was cautious of such tactics, but, going with his hopefully not off-kilter gut, he came around the counter. When she pushed back the curtain, he curled his larger hand over the fabric, just above hers, holding it for her to pass through. She smiled, appreciating the gentlemanly gesture.
Safety lights helped him follow the sway of her shapely hips, but she still offered a caution. “Stay to the middle of the aisle so you don’t catch your feet on anything sticking out from the bottom shelves. Did you notice the store next to me?”