Safeword: Davenport (16 page)

Dana nodded. “Okay then, that's part of it. I've just recreated who I am, and the idea of losing part of myself in another relationship is... I don't want to say scary, because I understand the things I'll gain, it's not all about loss, but I'm walking into it with both eyes open this time."

He squeezed her hand reassuringly and let go, leaning back again, but not as far as before. “I need you to answer something. If we hadn't seen his sister, would you've avoided me this week?"

She shook her head. “No. I believe we'd still be having a similar conversation, but I wouldn't have pushed you completely out while I sorted through everything."

Not sure how to take his nod, and not brave enough to ask, she continued, her words tripping over themselves. “This next part... I had no idea I felt this way until Thursday, but it's there, and I have to figure out what to do about it. There's this fear that you and I will fall into a long-term relationship and then I'll have only submitted to two people, and I want to experience more than that. It's screwed up, but if I knew we'd just last a few months I could relax and enjoy it, but things are so intense with you, and I like you so much, I feel the need to back off and... I don't know... experiment?"

She wasn't sure how he'd handle this part, and knew it could be a deal breaker between them, so she watched closely for hints as to how he was taking it. He didn't give her any clues, merely looked at her a good thirty seconds before leaning back to take a sip of his wine. He kept his eyes on her as he sipped, then seemed to deflate a little as he carefully placed the wine glass exactly back where it'd been, and used one finger to rub the bridge of his nose.

"My first instinct was to tell you to go experiment and come back to me when you've got it out of your system, but that's not the right answer, so I'm glad I thought it through before saying it. Part of me wants to tell you I'll make sure you get what you need, that I've got friends I can loan you to, who I know you'll be safe with.” He stopped, shook his head. “But I realize you have to do this on your own, so while the offer is there, I understand why I can't walk you through this."

Dana took a breath to talk, but he began again before she could start. “I worry about you, though. You let me tie you up much earlier than you should've. You were safe with me, so it worked out okay, but if I'd been one of those assholes who don't always respect a safeword you could've gotten hurt, and I'm not certain you had enough information to know I was trustworthy, at the time. So, I want you to promise me you'll be safer with other people than you were with me. I'll give you some guidelines to follow, and you can run them by Kirsten."

She smiled. “I'm touched by your concern, but if you'll recall, we worked together for months before our first date. Yes, I let you restrain me the first time we played, but I'd seen you in action enough to know your character. You can tell a lot about a person by the way he treats...” She trailed off and started over. “You don't see anyone as insignificant. Whether it's the guy who mows your lawn, or the craftsmen working in your home, you learn all of their names. For the ones you see regularly, like the people who care for your yard, you remember their children's names, you find out if they like to fish, or play golf, and you ask them about these things. So yes, I trusted you to bind me the first night. I'll look at your guidelines, but I assure you I won't be stupid."

"Okay,” he said, appearing uncomfortable with the praise. “If you have another friend who can be your safe call that's fine, but I can handle it if you don't."

"That's the next part—I think I have someone, but I won't know until... let me start at the beginning. I had a good friend in Nashville, I'm pretty sure Garnet only let me be as close to him as I was because he's gay, but for whatever reason, Garnet supported our friendship. We emailed, we talked on the phone, and when we were at the club for social occasions, Garnet let us hang out together if I wasn't already in a deep headspace when we arrived. They were sociable with each other, and had mutual respect, but they weren't close. Sir Brent was
my
friend."

She paused as the servers arrived with their food, waiting until they left to continue. “I hadn't talked to him since before Garnet...” She still had trouble putting the word
died
after his name so she trailed off and started over, her words coming faster as her anxiety grew. “I've got a different computer now, so I didn't have his contact information anymore. I looked him up, and we talked on the phone for hours. He's in a relationship, and he invited me to come to Nashville in the morning to hang out with him and his partner for the day, and—if I'm up to it—go as their guest to the club tomorrow evening. I'm welcome to their spare bedroom if I want to stay the night, since we'll get in late. Sir Brent is a highly respected Dom. You know how each club has a handful of mentors everyone respects? If I decide to play, he'll make sure I'm safe."

"His partner is submissive to him?"

"Yes. Sir Brent's a demanding Top and plays rough; I imagine his partner is
very
submissive."

She picked up her fork and began eating; figuring she needed to hear from Zach, get a feel for how he felt before she said anything else. They ate in silence for longer than she was comfortable, but she bit her tongue and gave him time to think.

The waiter refilled Dana's water, and when he walked away, Zach said, “Would it be out of line for me to request Brent's name and address, a text letting me know you've arrived safely, and your decision of whether to go to the club or not? I can't demand these things, so I'm asking."

She looked at him a second, and quickly realized, “It's not a control thing. You're worried about me. You want to know I'm safe."

He gave a terse nod and she let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, relaxed muscles she hadn't known were tense. “In that case, I'll give you more than you're asking. I'll text you when I arrive, and I'll give you a phone call when I make the decision of whether to go to the club or not. If I choose to go with them, I'll either call or text you when we get back to their place, and I'll call you once I'm on the road coming home the next day. I won't give you his full name, but I'll email you his address before I leave."

"Thank you. I trust you'll be safe with someone you consider a friend. But it's a long drive."

Dana talked on the phone to her sister most of the way to Nashville, catching up on her nieces’ latest antics and accomplishments, and sharing the vanilla parts of her budding relationship with Zach. It felt good to talk it through, to hear from her sister he seemed like a nice guy, and it was okay to ease into it slowly, to get a feel for things as she went. She got off the phone at Murfreesboro, as she'd need to pay attention to her GPS guiding her the rest of the way in.

Sir Brent worked in the country music industry and was a much sought after video producer and director. He'd told her his partner was also in “the business,” but hadn't elaborated. She couldn't see the house when the GPS informed her she'd reached her destination, only the immense iron gate between an elaborate brick fence. She stretched out the window to enter the last five digits of her cellphone number, and as she touched the final digit the gate silently slid sideways. She drove through and stopped long enough to text Zach she'd arrived safely.

The driveway went over a rise and the house glided into view—large, but the architecture and landscaping kept it from appearing as big as her professional eye instantly recognized. Her first thought was how well it fit Sir Brent's personality—all brick, solid, without being pretentious or imposing. He was sitting on the top step and stood to walk to her as she parked.

She was out of the car before he reached her, and without saying a word he pulled her into a bear hug, enfolding her body into his large frame before saying, “It's so good to see you; I've missed you."

He held her a long moment and pulled back to look at her, his eyes taking in her shorter hair. “You'd changed your number by the time I called, and when I tried your work they said you were no longer there. I was worried Garnet had decided he didn't want us to be friends anymore, so I didn't try another way to reach you. I'm sorry for that now, as it sounds like you could've used a friend who wouldn't take no for an answer."

She shook her head. “Maybe, I don't know. Either way, it's in the past and I'm here now. When do I get to meet the love of your life?"

He smiled, his face lighting up. “He's inside. Can I help you carry anything?"

"I've got an overnight bag, just in case, but I'll leave it in the car for now. I love your home, it fits you."

He looped her arm into his and walked towards the front entranceway. “Thank you. Jacob and I bought it about eight months ago. We may not be allowed to get married in the great state of Tennessee, but nothing ties two people together quite like owning a home."

"I'm so happy for you. You said he was in the business, you didn't tell me what he does?"

"He's a make-up artist and clothing designer. Not many people are good enough to specialize in both. He employs an excellent hair stylist, and the two of them together can get someone ready from beginning to end—hair, clothes, and makeup. He's in high demand, and I'm very proud of him."

Brent opened the front door and motioned for her to enter. She stepped into a beautiful foyer and paused, unsure of which direction to go.

"The living room is off to the right. Jacob is putting together some finger foods; he's likely still in the kitchen but should join us shortly."

She walked into the living room and had to do a slow circle to take it in. Whoever had designed the room was a genius with fabric. There were acres and acres of drapery, made up of at least a dozen patterns and solids in four or five color families. It shouldn't have worked, but it was stunning. The sofas, pillows, and throw rug worked beautifully with it, in a way she would've never had the nerve to attempt. She was about to comment on it when she looked up to see a Norse god bringing in a platter of canapes, sitting them on a side-table with a few other plates and platters. He placed it, picked it up, thought about it, and rearranged the grouping before placing it again. When he was satisfied, he turned and looked at her, his face animating into a stunning smile.

"You must be Dana. You're as lovely as Brent said. He was so happy after the two of you spoke the other night."

"And you have to be Jacob. You and Brent have a beautiful home, and something smells wonderful."

"Oh, it's just finger foods. What would you like to drink?"

His voice sounded strained, and his smile affected, and she wasn't sure what to think. “Water would be great. I'm going to admire the window treatments—I may even ask permission to photograph them. They're stunning, and I feel the need to break it all down, figure out why it works."

Jacob's smile changed, and his eyes seemed to peer inside of her. It made her uncomfortable and she turned away, facing the windows. “The floor rug is what anchors it, I think, and whoever did it was smart to recess the ceiling in the center—it gives more space, and draws the eyes in. Still, all of the rules say these colors and patterns shouldn't work, and they're beautiful."

She pivoted back to him and saw a completely different man—the harsh edges softened, making him change from gorgeous to mouth-watering sexy.

"Thanks,” he said, his voice gentle, no longer formal. “I spent weeks working on them between other jobs. Brent was ready to string me up by my balls when I finally finished."

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You did this? It's brilliant! Do you have sketches of how it all fits together? Could I see them?"

Brent chuckled. “I'll get the drinks while you talk to Dana about curtains."

He looked at Brent, his submission showing clearly in his eyes. “I'm sorry, and thank you."

As Dana watched her friend nod and walk out, she had the feeling she'd just missed something, but wasn't sure it was any of her business.

Jacob turned back to her. “You've had a long drive, so let's eat before we look at the plans. The plates are to the right of the side table, please help yourself."

When Brent returned with their drinks, she was sitting on the sofa, biting into an exquisitely stuffed mushroom, and he placed her glass in front of her and put the other two on the table beside Jacob before fixing his plate. Jacob stood as Brent walked towards him, waiting until he was seated before gracefully sinking to the floor at his feet, leaning against the chair and sideways on his Master's leg.

Brent casually ran his fingers through Jacob's hair as he said, “I trust the two of you have exhausted the curtain conversation?"

She was in awe of how beautiful they were, sitting so naturally, and she didn't answer right away. Jacob answered for her with, “She wants to see my sketches, but I told her we should eat first."

His voice jolted her back to the conversation. “Yes, I'd love to see how it's all put together; get an idea of how he came up with it. Jacob, did you make the food? It's wonderful."

He shook his head. “Brent picked most of it up from a caterer he uses on sets; the only thing I can take credit for is the presentation."

The small talk continued, and Dana liked Jacob a great deal. When standing, he was only a few inches shorter than Brent, though he was probably fifty pounds lighter, at least. Brent was built like a tank, while Jacob had the streamlined body of a swimmer. Jacob's muscles were well defined, but slim and wiry as opposed to large and bulky. Brent's short dark hair contrasted with Jacob's stylishly disheveled blond hair, and Brent's deep voice with Jacob's normal one. Brent was in worn jeans and a navy tee, while Jacob was in dressy khaki's and a short sleeve mock turtle in a luxurious fabric that made her want to run her fingers over the well-defined abs she could see under it—to see what the fabric was, of course.

She remembered Brent had always expressed disdain for those he termed twinks, and Jacob's physique, personality, and confidence kept him out of that category—but he
was
the artistic type. She was a little uncomfortable with the attraction she was feeling for him, and tried to set it aside.