Chapter 6 GRAYSON
GRAYSON
Grayson paced the office again. He’d taken the rest of the day off after Lexi ran out, but he hadn’t gone home yet. One of the best parts of having four co-runners of the club, he thought, was that none of them was forced to close more than twice a week.
They all had different roles in the club, with Grayson acting as General Manager.
He oversaw the alcohol and security as well, so he was in the club more, while Rio handled the building and grounds, Matty did the finances and oversaw HR, while Pat ran publicity, social media and entertainment.
Their roles overlapped here and there, but Grayson felt they were each in the best spot, playing to their strengths.
Strengths… had he come on too strong with Lexi earlier? Maybe that was why she got skittish and ran? He knew what he was asking was unconventional, besides asking her to lie to everyone they both knew, but all he’d done was lean over her for Christ’s sake.
If she was that sensitive to everything he did, they might not pull this off.
Or maybe he’d been too intense early on.
Being casually stalked - even for one morning - was bound to make anyone jumpy.
He’d messed up there, he could admit that.
He shouldn’t have sat there just staring for hours.
Or he should have gone in to say hello. No wonder Mama Troisi had told her about him.
Pivoting yet again, he wondered if she thought he was somehow deranged already.
Before he’d gotten her. He wanted her. For the club, he assured himself - for the arena.
Aggravated, he dragged a hand through his hair.
He was restless. While stress itself was common enough from the club, he wasn’t used to feeling like his skin was too tight.
Maybe he needed a night with a woman to take the edge off. It had been a while. Weeks? He stopped pacing to think as he stared out the oversized windows from the office over the club. He wasn’t technically working anymore, but he hadn’t wanted to go home. How long had it been?
Months, he realized. He’d been so focused on getting the Reverse Gladiator arena up and running that he’d barely recognized that summer had whizzed right by him.
Now it was halfway through September, and he hadn’t been with a woman in at least five months.
His sub before that… he was pretty sure she still worked here. Maybe he’d call her. Maybe not.
Irritated by his own indecision, he strode away from the window to grab his duffel bag and hit the stairs.
His footsteps echoed in the empty stairwell as his shoes slapped the concrete.
He’d go home, maybe go for a run, and maybe see if that bartender from last year was around. Brittany, he remembered.
The ride home was smooth and took less than twenty minutes. Living on the edge of Philly, you never knew when a road would be closed for construction, or flooding, or if traffic would randomly back things up for an hour.
That was part of Philly’s charm, he supposed, as his fingers tapped in time to his music. For romantic types, maybe. Grayson smiled at the thought. He held no such illusions.
Life was tough everywhere, and you had to be decisive and move fast if you wanted to get ahead. Home, he quickly got changed and headed right back out the door, still feeling like he was closed in.
As he adjusted his headphones and tightened the laces on his shoes, his mind was already back on Lexi. Maybe she wasn’t even a submissive. Or maybe she was a switch, he thought, taking the first couple of blocks at a walk to warm up. He could see her being both.
Although what that might mean for them working together, he wasn’t sure.
He didn’t always get along with female Dommes.
In his experience, they were usually trying to prove something.
It was always awkward for him; he felt like it was a dick-measuring contest where he could never actually use his dick.
And what was Lexi’s problem, anyway?
He amped into a jog. He hadn’t jumped her - he hadn’t even touched her.
All he’d done was get within a foot of her, and she got skittish.
And how would it be if she was a switch, and she tried posing as his sub?
Would she be fighting him half the time?
Would he be able to trust her to pull this off?
The entire thing started giving him a headache as it circled in his mind. Within another mile, he was flying at a dead sprint across the shitty concrete that Philadelphia dared to call a sidewalk.
Three miles later, he backed down to resume his jog and stopped to breathe next to some little community park.
He tried to use the little water fountain, but found it had either been turned off or was broken, the handle barely depressing under his push.
Annoyed, he started off, and remembered Brittany again.
Maybe he could work off his stress another way. He took out his phone.
Miss. Brittany.
Sub Bartender Brittany
Sir
This is not an order.
I’m not your Dom anymore.
Would you like
to get together tonight?
Sub Bartender Brittany
I would love to.
What would you
like me to wear, Sir?
Grayson rolled his eyes. He remembered why he hadn’t spent very long with Brittany. She wanted him to tell her everything - what to do, what to wear, how to eat, how long to sleep, when to shower. She was clingy and needy, and it had gotten exhausting.
I’m not your Dom.
Wear whatever you want.
Meet me at the Club at 7.
Satisfied that he’d found a solution to his frustrations, he kept up a steady jog on the way back home.
The concrete steps of his building had turned almost white in the late afternoon sunlight and led him around the back of the building to his door.
With a beer in hand for the shower, he left rock on his playlist. Loud.
While he never minded crashing at the club when he needed to, he enjoyed being home.
It was spacious, and the walls only reverberated with his music.
The music followed him down the hall, echoing off the small cubby where his washer and dryer waited with gaping maws that happily collected his sweaty clothes.
The raging beat cleared his mind and fed his soul in the way that little else did. Hot water and the beer helped as well, and by the end of his shower he’d determined that Miss Lexi would come work for him.
She would accept him as her Dom, whether she was a switch or not. Since she wouldn’t be his real sub, he could give her more leeway. Meet her halfway, he supposed, as the hot water pummeled his tension.
Feeling magnanimous about his determination, he texted Lexi as soon as he got out of the shower.
Her number had been in his phone before she’d even walked out the back door of the club.
He put his phone down after a few moments when he saw no response.
And plugged it in a half hour later, still with no response.
Thinking of having company since he might bring Brittany back, he took in his messy bedroom. Easy enough fix. He changed his sheets and casually tapped the screen of his phone. No alerts.
With the covers and pillows straightened, he picked up his phone to lie back and relax for a minute. It didn’t count as waiting for a text message if he was just catching up on email. His laptop mocked him from its carry bag he’d placed next to his bed.
Almost an hour later, his emails were sorted and his stomach growled as he doomscrolled.
He slapped a hasty sandwich together, and he ate the second half as he vacuumed.
The screen finally lit up and although he noticed it from across the room on its perch on his nightstand, he made sure not to reach for it until he was done vacuuming.
His irritation determined he would finish vacuuming the entire apartment before picking up his phone. He wasn’t about to let anyone distract him from anything. He knew what he needed, dammit; what he wanted. And no wanna-be-sub was going to make him second guess himself.
By the time the apartment was vacuumed, the sandwich sat forgotten, and Grayson had another beer in hand. The sun had gone down and shadows were making stark lines of his modern, minimalist furniture. And his mind had come full circle; Lexi would work for him.
He was willing to go to her gym, maybe take a class if that’s what she wanted. Perhaps she just wanted to get a better feel for him. He understood that, and after the entirely unconventional start to their relationship, he was more than happy to accommodate. Up to a point.
With thoughts of being accommodating in mind, he opened his phone.
To a variety of pictures from Brittany. Of different goddamn outfits.
He chose an outfit at random and set the phone back on the nightstand.
With the utmost care. It didn’t matter what Lexi said.
No matter her response, he was going to the gym tomorrow.
“Pick your ass up for me,” he demanded Brittany.
It wasn’t a very fair request, considering that her limbs were tied up spread-eagle across her bed, but she would try. There was no doubt she would. So he watched as she squirmed, and walked away to pour himself a whiskey while she struggled.
He wasn’t enjoying this as much as he’d hoped. Since meeting up with Brittany at the club, he’d felt in the back of his mind that this wasn’t right. It wasn’t what he really wanted.
Watery blue eyes instead of dark gypsy ones looked up at him over dinner, and there was too much softness where he would have preferred running his hands over lean muscle.
After dinner, he’d sat in his desk chair and had her ride him, facing away.
She would probably have bruises in the morning, but he still hadn’t been able to get off.