Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

I twirl my fork into spaghetti tinted a brilliant green with pesto. Spaghetti is a food which, while I’m partial to it, I normally reserve for eating in decent privacy. There’s nothing like having sauce down the front of your shirt to ruin your credibility. However, given the nature of the conversation I want to have…

…. Promised to have….

… with Ryan, I accepted his recommendation.

Won’t do any harm to pass a few compliments to his relative…

And the food is indeed excellent.

“Parmesan?” Ryan passes me the grater. “They make the pesto here. Grow it themselves in the gardens at the back.”

“Really? Great idea. I’ll suggest it to Michael and Charlotte. He’s looking to build up the hotel restaurant and she’s looking for excuses to grow things.”

And I dry up.

How the hell to begin this…?

Ryan forks up pasta, chewing, sipping at an excellent white Sauvignon and occasionally glancing up at me. After a few minutes, he says, “So, what is it can I do for you, James? I gather it’s not related to the project?”

“No, it’s not. The fact is…”

The fork perches half-way to his mouth. “Yes?”

“We had an incident with Kirstie at work…”

His face clouds over. “An incident? What’s wrong? Her work’s not up to scratch? I’ll talk to…”

I interrupt. “Her work is excellent, and even if it weren’t, it would be Kirstie herself I would speak to about it, not you.”

His feathers settling, “What then?”

My mouth is dry. I swill a little wine around my mouth. “Kirstie came into work one morning, obviously upset.” Ryan’s head tilts. “She’d been crying and had tried to cover it up under the make-up. Even if her position did not place her on the front desk meeting the visitors, that is clearly not acceptable.”

“Crying? What was she crying about?” His expression is neutral, his voice flat.

“You didn’t know?”

“No. I didn’t. If I had, obviously I’d have gotten to the bottom of it myself. So, what did she say?”

“Straight off, nothing, but later she asked to see me.”

His face tightens. “To see you? Why did she want to see you? Is this to do with Charlotte?”

“No.” I scoop up more pasta, chewing slowly to buy myself thinking time. “Kirstie wanted to talk to me in my capacity as her friend and as a Dom.”

Ryan stiffens. “What?”

my advice

to the plate. “Do I understand you correctly? You have been discussing my and Kirstie’s…

“Yes, but…”

forward over the table. But his voice is lower. “What the fuck is my sex life

with Kirstie

At the clubs in

warm. “She asked for my help. Don’t you want to

flat, bolt upright in his seat, “Alright then, what

own

which won’t

“Kirstie is your sub…”

The syllable could

are her Dom. But as I understand it, you are fairly

juts then pushes down into

“So?”

Kirstie tells me, I think that perhaps you haven’t caught all the nuances of

the fuck are you talking about James?” Once more, heads turn in our direction, this time to meet the flash from his eyes and turn away again.

Stay cool…

phrase ‘The Doms have the control. The subs have the power.’

of

word is beginning to annoy

limits. The sub always has the final say on how far things go; whether we’re talking about the bedroom or

shifts in his

a safe word. And if that safe word is used, then it is for the Dom to stop whatever is happening. Not to question it. Not to get annoyed. To stop. That

not eating. The food lies forgotten in front of him and his hands

Between gritted teeth, “Fine.”

looks first to Ryan, then to me.

he’s out of earshot, Ryan’s gaze rises to mine. “What exactly has Kirstie being

“She tells me that…”

Choose your

sometimes, when the two of you are involved, she calls her

away; face reddening,

Can’t leave it there…

Get the message home…

limits, you have to stop. That’s how it works. Otherwise, it’s not Domination, it’s bullying; abuse. A safe

he hurls

could have

spaghetti lies congealed on my plate, the virulent green sauce unappetising,

of the wine, washing it

Crap…

down the waiter, I call for the

*****