5 Dane
Dane
To: info@
From: morgan@
Subject: Possible new client
Dane, I’m drunk, so if this doesn’t make sense, call me tomorrow.
I don’t know if she’ll email you, but if you get a message in the next twenty-four hours from a woman, please take her on.
She’s someone close to me. Don’t worry, I didn’t reveal who you are or that you work for us sometimes, but she does know that I know you and that you probably live around here.
But I kept your identity a secret! Anyhoo…
This can be that favor you said you owe me for helping you set up your website and giving you a job when you first moved here.
She’s the best, and I think she needs your guidance and support.
I won’t say her name in case she gives you a fake one, but she’ll probably say she doesn’t know why she’s emailing you (just a guess ).
I also told her to tell you that I sent her.
HOPE TO SEE YOU SOON, YOU HOT LUMBERSNACK!
P.S. I know you’re busy, but don’t be a stranger. I like your face, and I want you to meet me and the grumpy man’s new soon-to-be-husband. Okay, g2g, Fox wants to spank me for calling him grumpy and taking forever to send this email that he said I could have texted.
Bye bye bye (Sung like that boy band song) xoxoxooooooooo Xooooooooooooooo
Morgan
My lips tug into a smile as I read Morgan’s email. I will say that after the day I had, it made my night. Or I guess morning, considering it’s nearing one AM.
I spent the afternoon at the hospital, waiting to make sure Levi was good. He fractured his tibia, but thankfully, it was non-displaced, so he won’t need surgery. He’ll be staying in the hospital on painkillers until tomorrow.
After I left, I spent the day catching up on work and filming simple content I’ll post over the next couple of days.
With the eventful day I had, I feel almost as if I didn’t even win the speed pole competition—or that it even happened.
When I remembered, I poured myself some expensive cognac a client sent me as a thank-you gift and set myself up by the fireplace, responding to comments I’ve been neglecting on my socials.
I start typing back a quick response to Morgan’s email. It will be difficult to take on a client with the ones I already have, but I do owe Morgan.
When I first came to Starlight Haven, she and Fox gave me a job. I had prior experience in logging since my late dad was a logger, but they hired me, no questions asked. Even if I didn’t have experience, they would’ve given me the job because I needed it. That’s the kind of people they are.
Then there’s the website Morgan mentioned.
When my DomInTheWoods persona took off, and I decided to become a full-time Pro Dom—not just to help people reach their goals when they’re struggling on their own but to fulfill my need to lead, to take control, and to give people the structure they crave in submission—she came to the rescue.
My website, which looked like it hadn’t been touched in ages, got a full overhaul that would have cost me thousands if I had hired someone, thanks to her.
I’m guessing she won’t see it until late in the morning, but I shoot off the quick message to her.
I thank her for the entertaining email and let her know I’ll take on her friend if she contacts me.
I also can’t resist reminding her to drink water with an electrolyte packet and take painkillers.
Fox is not only her husband but also her Dom, and an incredible one at that, but she’s a friend I care about, so I type it out anyway.
I sip my cognac, the oak and black pepper taste popping on my tongue. My shoulders relax as I fill my lungs with the dry air of my cabin and stare at my unlit fireplace. I was tempted to light a fire, but while it’s cooler at night in the mountains, it’s not cool enough for one.
Imagining the flames flickering and heating my face, I sink into the cushions of my recliner and revel in the silence, a silence that comforts me and provides a level of peace I crave and have continued to crave since I was young.
Before the memories of my childhood can fill my mind, I take another sip of my drink and open my DomInTheWoods account.
I posted a late-night video about two hours ago, and there are already over two hundred comments.
While I don’t respond to every comment made, I try to respond to a few on each post. It makes my followers feel good and appreciated, and I like to connect with people all over the world who find comfort in my content and what I offer.
I scroll through my notifications and stop when I see several comments from a user with no picture and the handle @WhyAmIHere33.
While profiles with no picture and funny names are common, what has me pausing is that they’re commenting on old videos from when I first started my account years ago.
It also appears that they’re making their way through every video in order.
I read each comment, a smile teasing my lips as they get progressively more interesting.
@WhyAmIHere33: Do all Doms look like you?
@WhyAmIHere33: Is wood chopping part of being a Dom?
@WhyAmIHere33: WOW, they allow this on the internet?!
@WhyAmIHere33: I never thought I’d be into this but…here I am.
@WhyAmIHere33: How do you give up control but have control?
@WhyAmIHere33: What makes someone qualified to be a Pro Dom?
@WhyAmIHere33: How do you know if you’re in need of a Pro Dom? Or that you’re a submissive, for that matter?
I’m about to respond to their last few notifications—ready to explain that their question is nuanced and depends on the individual but I’d be happy to elaborate over email—when a new comment notification pops up.
@WhyAmIHere33: I swear I’ve seen your nose before!
I laugh as I read her comments. My old videos do show me from my nose down, where my new videos are shot from my mouth down.
I read the comment again and sit straighter in my chair when the pieces click together.
This commenter must be Morgan’s friend she emailed me about.
It aligns with the timing and what she said about her friend, how if said friend did email me, she’d say she’s not sure why she’s emailing.
It also makes sense with what she chose for her username.
Does WhyAmIHere33 live in Starlight Haven? Or maybe she was out with Morgan tonight and visited for the games? If she does live here, have we met before? If we have, she’s not putting the pieces together, so maybe I just have a familiar nose. It’s not like my nose is special—it’s an average nose.
I haven’t been into town enough beyond my weekly grocery run and stop at the diner to know if someone new has moved here in the last few months, let alone the last year or more. If I don’t run into them at the General Store, I don’t know them.
Fuck, maybe Levi is right. I should get out more.
Pushing that thought away for now, I respond to her comment.
@DomInTheWoods: Maybe you’ve seen my videos before?
I stare at the fireplace devoid of flame, and a second later, I see she’s already responded.
@WhyAmIHere33: Oh my god, you responded. I think I’ll go die now.
I chuckle to myself and comment back.
@DomInTheWoods: If you do that, you’ll never get the answers to your questions.
Her response is so fast, I know she must be waiting for my replies like I’m waiting for hers.
@WhyAmIHere33: I don’t know if I want the answers.
I pause, considering how to respond. It’s clear she wants answers and is genuinely interested in my page and what I have to offer. Morgan wouldn’t have emailed me if she wasn’t certain her friend—I’m almost certain that’s who this person is—would reach out to me in some way.
I tap out my answer with this thought in mind, wanting to be as gentle as possible since she’s obviously skittish.
@DomInTheWoods: Take your time to decide, but I wonder: Don’t you want to find out why you’re here, replying to me in the early hours of the morning when you should be getting rest?
I read it over twice before I hit enter, my comment popping up under hers. I read over the conversation again while I wait for her to respond. Another minute passes by, and another. My eyes start to drift closed, the events of the day and the alcohol catching up to me.
I sleepily refresh my phone, wondering why I care so much about her responding. More time passes, and right before I fall asleep, a new notification comes through. A ghost of a smile appears on my lips as my bleary eyes read her reply.
@WhyAmIHere33: Yes, I do.
I wake myself up enough to type out a response.
@DomInTheWoods: Then email me, WhyAmIHere33. I look forward to giving you the answers.