CHAPTER 12
Jamie
“A-r-r-r-ite,” Tiffany slurred from her spot on my couch. “S’time to give it up, Lautner. I need the juicy shhtuff.”
I laughed. Two bottles of wine and I was definitely feeling loose. Both my limbs and my lips.
But I didn’t think it was the wine that had tipped us over the edge.
No, we probably owed that bit of thanks to the joint we’d been passing between us. Nothing like a few hits of marijuana to dilute my faculties and make me believe I was one of the funniest women on the planet.
“Nothin’ to tell,” I said with a ridiculous giggle.
“You, sir, are a…” Tiffany stabbed her finger in my direction and yelled, “Liar!”
It wavered. Or I did. I wasn’t sure, but it caused a fit of giggles that had me doubling over until my forehead was touching the floor.
“Is she dead? Laughing to death is a thing,” Tiffany declared.
“Don’t think so,” Jonah said primly.
I sat up in time to see him massaging his face with his fingertips. I frowned, tried to figure out what he was doing. When I couldn’t, I simply asked.
“My cheeks hurt.” The words were said as he pulled his lips out like a duck.
Of course, in my inebriated state, this was the funniest shit I’d ever seen.
Because my tailbone was starting to hurt, I tried to push up onto the sofa using only my arms. I would’ve been successful after the third attempt if it hadn’t been for Jonah using his foot to push my arm out from under me. I went face-first into the cushion.
Again, some seriously funny shit.
“Come on, Lautner,” he said on a dramatic sigh. “What’s the big secret?”
I gave up on trying to get off the floor. “There’s not one.”
“You said there was,” Jonah whined.
Another fit of giggles barreled through me. “Oh, yeah. I did, huh?”
He rolled his eyes.
“Be careful,” Tiffany said seriously. “You’ll get stuck like that.”
I jerked my attention her way, curious as to what she was talking about. She was staring at Jonah, her eyes crossed.
Of course, this was funny, too.
To me, at least.
Jonah huffed. “You’ve got two seconds. Spill it or I’ll tickle it out of you.”
I sobered momentarily. I did not like to be tickled, and Jonah seemed quite fond of using that as a torture tactic.
I sat up, schooled my features, and glanced between my two best friends.
I’d only known them since my first semester of college, but the three of us had become tight since then.
We spent at least one or two nights a week hanging out, laughing, joking, bouncing ideas off one another.
And of course, dishing about our love lives.
Or lack thereof, which was usually the case for me.
“Whaddya wanna know?” I asked, swallowing the last of my wine.
“On the night in question,” Jonah began, his voice unusually deep—like an announcer’s—as he pretended to interrogate me, “you mentioned you went to a place known as the Wild West room. Can you describe this room?”
“You got me, copper!” I squealed, trying to hold off the giggles. “I’m guilty. I did it!”
Needless to say, this conversation was going nowhere fast. Once again, I was doubled over, and Tiffany’s head was hanging off the front of the sofa, her laughter as uncontrollable as mine.
“Is it true, Miss Lautner, that it looked like a barn?” Jonah asked in that same dramatic fashion.
I gave up my attempt to remain upright and just rolled over onto my back. “It’s true. It’s all true.”
I’d already given them the full layout of the Wild West room, right down to the barn door window and the hooks in the wall.
“She’s not telling us everything,” Tiffany insisted. “She’s leaving something out.” She slithered down onto the floor. “I can feel it.”
Jonah, apparently not wanting to be left out, followed suit. He dropped to his knees, slowly crawled across the floor, and lay down between us. “Did you know they’ve got this thing called cuddling?”
I turned my head to peer at him. “What?”
He looked my way. “It’s true. People’ve made careers out of it. They hold cuddle parties and shit.”
I studied him, trying to find the truth in his statement. “Really?”
“Yup.” He peered up at the ceiling once more. “They all lie on pillows, smoking pot and cuddling together.”
“Do they have sex?” Tiffany asked.
“Nope. Just cuddle.”
“Pfft.” I giggled again. “What’s the point if there’s no sex?”
“What do you know about sex?” Jonah questioned. “You’re like the forty-year-old virgin.”
I grinned. “Only I’m twenty-four.”
He waved his hand above us. “I doubt your puss can tell the difference.”
Hearing him say that had me giggling again.
Jonah flipped onto his side, put his hands together, and rested his cheek on them, his big green eyes hopeful, his blond hair purposely mussed. “Tell us more about the club, Mommy. Please.”
I sighed. “Okay, little Tommy, but you have to promise not to judge.”
Tiffany sat up abruptly, drawing my attention. Her usually perfectly styled hair was a mess around her face. Static had it sticking up in crazy directions.
“Seriously?” she asked, leaning over Jonah to get in my face. “When have we ever judged you?”
I cocked one eyebrow. “How about the time I bought that dress—”
“No!” Jonah shook his head, grinning. “Don’t even go there. You know that dress was hideous.”
“I liked it,” I argued.
“It made you look like a garden,” Tiffany declared with a curl of her lips that looked ominously like a snarl. “And not the good kind.” Her arms began to move, as though outlining … something. “Like a big, hideous … garden.”
“Tell me what you really think, Tiff.” Though I’d meant to relay that with heat, it came out on a breathless chuckle.
The three of us lay there for long minutes before I was able to catch my breath. My thoughts drifted to Cav and Edge, and I managed to maintain my composure.
“I went to the club,” I said.
“Duh.” Jonah flopped onto his back again.
“It was … exactly what I expected.” I found a spot on the ceiling, studied it.
“You might’ve mentioned that,” Tiffany said with a huff. “A few dozen times.”
“Who’s telling the story here?” My tone rose and fell.
“Certainly not you,” Jonah noted. “Otherwise…” He pushed up onto his side, leaned over until his nose was on mine. “We’d have the juicy details!”
When his hand snaked out, his fingers digging into my sides, I squealed and flailed around as I tried to sit up, to get away.
“Fine,” I huffed, trying to catch my breath.
I made it to my feet, flopped onto the sofa, and propped my head up on a pillow. I crossed my ankles, steepled my hands on my stomach.
“She’s not gonna tell us,” Jonah told Tiffany.
“I will,” I whined. “Give me a minute.”
“A minute, she wants. We’ve been at this for two hours.”
I glanced at the clock. Had it really been two hours? I squinted to see the time.
How about that? It’d been two hours.
“Okay, fine. I’ll tell you.” I tried for a serious tone. “It was a dark and stormy night…”
“It was October,” Jonah corrected.
“Fine. It was a dark night—”
“Better.”
“I walked in, got interrogated by this cute fairy girl at the front desk. She ticked off the rules on her fingers, then had some guy pat me down.”
Jonah grunted. “That’s no fair. I want some guy to pat me down.”
“I thought you said Dav—”
Jonah covered Tiffany’s mouth. “Hush it. Jamie’s telling us a story.”
The three of us giggled, but I forged through. “After I changed, I was taken back down to the main floor, where I was told to wait for Master Edge.”
“Mmmm. Master Edge sounds hot,” Jonah whispered harshly.
“So hot,” Tiffany agreed.
“I didn’t say what he looked like.”
Jonah sighed. “Who cares? I think anyone with the name Master is hot.”
“His name’s Gregory Edge,” I clarified. “He goes by Edge.”
Jonah waved me off. “Quit ruining my fantasy.” He turned his hand over and fluttered his fingers in a move that said keep going.
“Anyway.” I looked up at the ceiling again. “He took me to the dungeon first. We watched a scene. A woman tied to a spanking bench.”
“Did it make your ass hurt just to watch her?” Jonah asked, hopeless wonder in his tone.
“It was interesting,” I admitted. “But I found myself completely distracted by Master Edge.”
I peered over when neither of them said anything. “What?”
They were both staring at me, their mouths agape.
Jonah flittered those fingers again. “Keep going.”
“Yes. Right.” I turned my attention back to the ceiling. “Then Master Cav appeared. He’s a friend of Edge’s. We started talking, then the three of us went back up to the bar. No alcohol there, by the way. But that was okay.”
Jonah made a sound like brakes squealing. “Back it up, sista. Tell us what this Master Cav looked like.”
“Hot.” I smiled to myself. “He’s a cowboy, complete with hat and Wranglers.” My voice took on a dreamy note. “Tall. Blond hair, pretty blue eyes. Lots and lots of muscles.” I looked over at them. “Did I mention he took his shirt off?”
“You haven’t mentioned much of anything,” Jonah said with a snort.
I continued to relay how we had chatted, but I purposely omitted the discussion about sharing. I still wasn’t sure I wanted to give them that much information. I moved on to the part of the story where I took Master Edge aside, told him what I wanted.
“Seriously?” Tiffany asked. She was sitting up now, her back pressed against the sofa, her long hair tickling my arm. “You topped from the bottom?”
The three of us laughed. “I don’t think that’s what I did. I told him I needed a moment to be candid.”
“You told him you wanted to be candy?” Jonah clarified, crawling across the floor and grabbing a bottle of water.
“Candid,” I repeated.
“He’s gonna spank your ass,” Jonah said with a laugh. “I bet he’s counting the days until he can.”
I thought about the punishment they’d both mentioned when we had been at Edge’s house. Up to that point, I’d never considered what it would be like to get a spanking.
“What happened after that?” Tiffany asked, evidently needing more information.
“Master Edge got all … dominant,” I admitted. “He calls me sweetness.”
“What does Master Cav call you?” This from Jonah.
“Cupcake.”