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I stand there momentarily shocked before my brain can process what I&#039;m seeing: Phil and his brother, Mark, both plowing into a blonde they have draped over the desk. <br /> &quot;Honey, wait. Please, it wasn&#039;t what it looked like. This is all a big misunderstanding.&quot;<br /> Why do they always say that? Do they think our eyes don&#039;t work? &quot;You weren&#039;t spit roasting some bimbo with your brother? You weren&#039;t throwing our marriage away for some cheap thrill?&quot; I ask.<br /> &quot;No, I mean yes we were with&quot; – he pauses as he considers his next words – &quot;that woman. But we were doing it for the family. She&#039;s been riding us for months and we finally decided to give her what she wanted to help Dad save the business.&quot;<br /> _____________<br /> <br /> New Year&#039;s Eve<br /> Another holiday, another day Phil is working. I hate that he&#039;s putting pressure on himself but he said they had a lot to do before the end of the year. Since I know most of the office is off today, I decide to surprise him with lunch.<br /> When I arrive at Robinson &amp; Associates, there are only a few cars here. I think about calling Phil, but instead I type in the passcode and sneak in. When I make my way towards his office, a sense of impending dread overtakes me. I shake it off as I continue down the hall to his closed door. When I turn the handle and open it, my entire reality comes crashing in around me.<br /> I stand there momentarily shocked before my brain can process what I&#039;m seeing: Phil and his brother, Mark, both plowing into a blonde they have draped over the desk. Phil is slamming into her from behind while Mark is buried down her throat. Their heads all snap towards me as the food I was carrying goes crashing to the ground. Wide-eyed they appear as stunned as I am. For a second, no one moves but then the mystery woman smirks at me – with Mark&#039;s shaft still in her mouth – and it knocks me out of my stupor. Without a backwards glance, I flee.<br /> &quot;Lola!&quot; I hear Phil shout behind me. I&#039;m in my car and peeling out of the parking lot before he has time to pull his pants up and chase after me.<br /> I make it all the way to the house before my emotions overwhelm me. Slamming my hands on the wheel, I wonder how I could be this stupid. How could I not see that he was cheating on me? Of course, he was! The late nights, the weekend work trips, the lack of interest in intercourse. It&#039;s all so obvious now.<br /> I give myself a moment to freak out before marching inside to pack a bag. I can&#039;t stay here with him, not after this. Not after beating myself up for my marriage not working. Turns out it wasn&#039;t a lack of effort on my part. It was because my husband decided to invite other people into it. The prick in question arrives as I&#039;m zipping up my suitcase.<br /> He grabs my arm as I head to the door. &quot;Honey, wait. Please, it wasn&#039;t what it looked like. This is all a big misunderstanding.&quot;<br /> Why do they always say that? Do they think our eyes don&#039;t work? &quot;You weren&#039;t spit roasting some bimbo with your brother? You weren&#039;t throwing our marriage away for some cheap thrill?&quot; I ask.<br /> &quot;No, I mean yes we were with&quot; – he pauses as he considers his next words – &quot;that woman. But we were doing it for the family. She&#039;s the rep for the deal we&#039;ve been working on. It&#039;s what we had to do to get the business. She&#039;s been riding us for months and we finally decided to give her what she wanted to help Dad save the business.&quot;<br /> &quot;Oh I&#039;m sure she&#039;s been riding you for months,&quot; I mutter. You and I both know that is a load of trash. I&#039;ve seen her before at the company picnic. She&#039;s your brother&#039;s assistant.&quot; He&#039;s either shocked I remember or for being called out, because he opens and closes his mouth several times without a rebuttal. Good. I shove him back and continue to my car. Before slamming the door, I add, &quot;I&#039;m going to stay with my dad for a while. Don&#039;t contact me.&quot;<br /> ---<br /> Today is my birthday. I&#039;ve been at my dad&#039;s house for the last few days but he left last night to go on a business trip. I almost laughed when he told me and asked if any assistants would be joining him but that is more than I need to know about my dad. Plus, he&#039;s a single man. He can do as he pleases. I&#039;m not even a little bit surprised he won&#039;t be here for my birthday. It&#039;s not like he knew I was coming or that this is the first birthday he&#039;ll miss.<br /> My phone is blowing up with messages and calls but I can&#039;t bring myself to return any. I haven&#039;t told anyone what happened with Phil yet. I&#039;m beyond embarrassed. You never think it&#039;s going to happen to you. You never think you&#039;ll miss the signs, but then you do. I&#039;m staring at all the messages Phil sent me apologizing, asking me to come home, and gaslighting me about all the reasons he went to another woman. Despite all those messages, I am the most annoyed by the fact that he hasn&#039;t acknowledged my birthday. Not that I want him to, but it is telling. I&#039;m scrolling through his string of lies and excuses when a FaceTime from Georgie comes through. I don&#039;t want to answer, but I know I have to. Georgie will keep calling until I pick up. I put on a fake smile and hit the answer button.<br /> &quot;It&#039;s the birthday girl!&quot;<br /> &quot;Hi, Georgie. How&#039;s Barbados?&quot;<br /> &quot;Oh, you know, beautiful weather, beautiful people, delicious drinks, can&#039;t complain. Next year you have to let me fly you out to spend your birthday together.&quot;<br /> &quot;That would be nice,&quot; I reply distractedly.<br /> &quot;What&#039;s wrong, Honeybun? You don&#039;t seem happy to be turning twenty-seven. Actually, you don&#039;t seem happy at all. What gives, Lo? Who do I need to kill?&quot;<br /> I roll my eyes. Georgie has always been overprotective. Apparently not having any siblings of my own meant the Rivera family was adopting me. That gave me two big sisters and a big brother who were all ready to go to battle for me. I&#039;m reluctant to tell the truth since Georgie was never fond of Phil. He was apparently slimy and had &#039;a face that said he was up to something,&#039; which turned out to be true. This news is not going to go over well.<br /> I go through the events of New Year&#039;s Eve and some of the things before that lead up to it. By the end, Georgie&#039;s voice is hard and face is red. &quot;I am going to kill that prick. No one treats you like that, Lola. No one. His days are numbered.&quot;<br /> &quot;Alright, calm down Rambo. You aren&#039;t going to do anything. If you go to jail, you won&#039;t get to play with those cute nieces you have or eat your mother&#039;s pasteles ever again.&quot;<br /> &quot;I&#039;m serious. This is unacceptable. Where are you? You&#039;re not going to go back to that loser. I can fly you out to Chicago. You can move in with me. Start over without that prick. You were always too good for him.&quot;<br /> &quot;I&#039;m fine, Georgie. I&#039;m at Dad&#039;s trying to figure out my next move. I am not moving in with you. There aren&#039;t enough noise canceling headphones in the world to make that happen.&quot;<br /> That shifts Georgie&#039;s expression from dark and stormy to a smirk. Horn dog.<br /> &quot;I don&#039;t know what I&#039;m going to do next but for now, I want to lick my wounds. I haven&#039;t been happy for a while, crumpling marriage aside,&quot; I confess. &quot;I&#039;m considering all my options before making any life-altering decisions.&quot;<br /> &quot;My offer stands. You need a place to go, my guest room is always open.&quot;<br /> &quot;Thanks Georgie. Go enjoy your vacation! You&#039;ll be hard at work again soon.&quot;<br /> ---<br /> &quot;Bye, Lo. Call me soon.&quot;<br /> After a few more weeks at my dad&#039;s and increasingly more hostile texts and calls from my husband. I decide that I need a fresh start and to be surrounded by friends. I pull up my group text with Tiffany and Carina and shoot off a message.<br /> 11:57 AM<br /> Me<br /> I&#039;m coming to Nashville. I&#039;ll get there next Wednesday, same as Tiffany.<br /> Phil will be at an accounting conference all week. I&#039;ll head home Monday and pack up everything I need for a new life in Music City. Nashville, here I come...<br /> February<br /> My first days in Nashville have been amazing. Robby hasn&#039;t left for spring training yet, but it&#039;s been a total estrogen fest at Casa de Becker. Considering he is about to leave his girl for several weeks, Robby has been a good sport about all the rom-coms and rosé present in his swanky condo. Tiffany and I are going to stay here with Carina until he gets back and then we&#039;ll move into the two-bedroom unit they bought a couple floors below.<br /> A few nights before Robby leaves, he wants to make Carina a fancy dinner at home. To make ourselves scarce, Tiffany and I spend the night exploring Nashville. We stumble across a cute champagne garden that is right up Tiff&#039;s alley. As we sip our bubbles, I can tell my blonde bestie is buttering me up for something.<br /> &quot;So...&quot; she probes. &quot;You left Phil over six weeks ago. Have you made any movement in the separation front?&quot;<br /> &quot;I&#039;ve contacted a lawyer in Missouri, but I haven&#039;t done anything yet. He hasn&#039;t been bugging me lately and I know the second he gets served papers he&#039;s going to harass me again. I&#039;m enjoying the peace while I can. I think he finally got the message that it&#039;s over but I don&#039;t want to tempt fate yet.&quot;<br /> &quot;Speaking of tempting things, are you ready to get back out there? Meet some hunk to break your two-month dry spell?&quot;<br /> &quot;Two months? Try eight,&quot; I say before I can stop myself. Tiffany chokes on her drink at the announcement.<br /> &quot;Eight?! You haven&#039;t had intercourse eight months?&quot; she whisper-shouts causing people at nearby tables to turn their heads.<br /> &quot;Can you shut up? People are staring!&quot;<br /> &quot;I&#039;m sorry. I just... I know you hadn&#039;t gotten physical in a while, but your husband didn&#039;t have intercourse with you for that long, and you didn&#039;t suspect he was cheating? Oh honey, I didn&#039;t know it was that bad. You&#039;d think the dude would throw you a bone now and then, especially when you were offering. Who turns down a free lay?&quot;<br /> &quot;Excuse me,&quot; I huff, affronted.<br /> &quot;I wasn&#039;t calling you easy, babe. I&#039;m simply pointing out that it is a lot more work to go and find a mistress or a rando than it is to have intercourse with your wife. Wow. And you&#039;re a knockout. Phil is dumber than I thought he was.&quot;<br /> &quot;Can we not talk about this in public?&quot; I ask with heated cheeks.<br /> &quot;Oh, no ma&#039;am. We are talking about this. I cannot let this injustice stand. We are getting you laid ASAP.&quot;<br /> &quot;I am not going home with some random guy we meet at a bar tonight. I can&#039;t handle that stress or potential rejection right now.&quot;<br /> &quot;Fine,&quot; she sighs, then perks up. &quot;What if I knew a way you could have intercourse with someone who would for sure not turn you down?&quot;<br /> &quot;I&#039;m not hiring a hooker,&quot; I deadpan.<br /> &quot;Not a hooker, babe. There is a club here that offers a service for finding sexually compatible people and getting them together. It&#039;s all between consenting adults and no money exchanges hands – except the membership fee.&quot;<br /> &quot;I don&#039;t want to have intercourse in some shady nightclub.&quot;<br /> &quot;Not a nightclub. And it&#039;s not shady, it&#039;s super classy. You fill out a profile and they find someone who matches your preferences. Everyone who is approved has been vetted. I signed up a few weeks ago but haven&#039;t been yet.&quot;<br /> &quot;Tiff, you have guys hanging all over you. Why do you need to go to a club for intercourse ?&quot;<br /> She shrugs. &quot;Sometimes it&#039;s nice to have a partner who already knows what you want. That way, you don&#039;t have to go through all the pesky guesswork and pretend you don&#039;t want him to spank your hip and call you his &#039;naughty girl.&#039; Plus, there are a few things I enjoy that aren&#039;t exactly one-night stand or first date material like—&quot;<br /> I hold my hand up to stop her. &quot;I don&#039;t need to know all that, and I don&#039;t think this is a good idea.&quot;<br /> &quot;Come on, Bunny. It&#039;s perfect. It&#039;s a sure-fire way to rip off the Band-Aid with someone who won&#039;t reject you and knows exactly what your boundaries are. It&#039;s ideal for a novice!&quot;<br /> &quot;A novice, really?&quot;<br /> &quot;Oh, I&#039;m sorry. Did you have a lot of sexcapades you never told me during between homecoming and freshman spring semester when you met Phil?&quot;<br /> &quot;No...&quot;<br /> &quot;Exactly,&quot; she exclaims. &quot;You need someone who knows how to get you off and how to keep you comfortable. I&#039;ll help you complete your profile and make sure you get the match you need.&quot;<br /> She&#039;s staring at me with big blue puppy dog eyes. It&#039;s hard to say no when I know she&#039;s trying to help me.<br /> &quot;Fine,&quot; I concede. And that&#039;s how later that night I end up huddled in bed with Tiffany answering an exceedingly thorough questionnaire about my sexual preferences.<br /> &quot;I don&#039;t even know what some of this stuff is,&quot; I say.<br /> &quot;Like what?&quot;<br /> &quot;Like water spots. Do they mean jet skis?&quot;<br /> &quot;They mean being peed on,&quot; she replies nonchalantly.<br /> &quot;Seriously?&quot;<br /> &quot;Seriously.&quot;<br /> &quot;Why do you know that?&quot;<br /> She smirks at me before answering, &quot;I&#039;ve been with my share of kinky former child stars.&quot;<br /> &quot;Oh my God.&quot;<br /> &quot;Hey, don&#039;t knock it till you try it. I didn&#039;t get peed on.&quot;<br /> &quot;That is way more than I needed to know. Ugh, this is going to be the most vanilla questionnaire they&#039;ve ever received. They aren&#039;t going to let me in.&quot;<br /> &quot;Oh please. I&#039;m sure you&#039;ve got some secret kinks in there you don&#039;t even know about. Let them worry about that. All you need to do is answer honestly.&quot;<br /> After another hour of filling it out, Tiffany convinces me to submit an application. Later, I go to bed embarrassed but also optimistic that I&#039;m taking steps forward even if I have no intentions of stepping foot inside that club.<br /> * * *<br /> &quot;I can&#039;t believe I let you convince me to do this,&quot; I yell over the blow dryer.<br /> &quot;Shut up. You&#039;re going to love it,&quot; Tiffany replies with an eye roll. &quot;You&#039;re going to meet some hunk to rail you into forgetting all about that small-shafted son of a bimbo who called himself a man.&quot;<br /> &quot;Are we sure this is a good idea?&quot;<br /> Tiffany puts down the blow dryer and meets my eyes in the mirror. &quot;This is going to be great for you, Lo. I promise.&quot;<br /> I nod my head and she returns to helping me get ready. After she&#039;s done, I slip into the navy velvet dress she forced me to buy for the occasion. The fabric is smooth against my skin and the cinched waist gives the illusion I was gifted the curves of my Italian ancestors.<br /> &quot;it pays to have someone who went to beauty school as your bestie,&quot; Tiffany comments, coming into the room. I haven&#039;t had the nerve to peek yet.<br /> I breathe at my reflection.<br /> &quot;Yeah babe, you look hot .&quot;<br /> &quot;You are a magician, Tiff. I can&#039;t believe you made me look this good.&quot;<br /> &quot;Yeah, whatever. You&#039;re a little Aphrodite and some guy is going to cream his pants at the sight of you tonight,&quot; she says as she downs the rest of her champagne. &quot;Alright, Bunny. Let&#039;s roll out. Don&#039;t forget to grab your mask if you want to keep up the mystery.&quot;<br /> &quot;Here goes nothing,&quot; I mumble as we walk out the door.<br /> • BRADY •<br /> &quot;Good seeing you as always,&quot; Declan Ryder says as he slaps my shoulder and makes his way out of Cole&#039;s office. Declan, Cole Viatello, and I are co-owners of Club Hedone, a intercourse and kink club in Nashville. The club got its name after Hedone, the goddess of pleasure and enjoyment. She was the daughter of Eros, god of love and intercourse , and Psyche, the goddess of the soul.<br /> The three of us meet every couple of months to talk about the club and make big (read: expensive) decisions. Declan and I may be co-owners/investors, but we both have day jobs – if you can call being a top-selling musician and MLB first baseman &#039;day jobs.&#039; Cole runs the day-to-day and is the majority owner.<br /> As I am about to leave, Cole grabs my attention after glancing at his phone. &quot;Fancy staying to play tonight, Miller?&quot; he asks.<br /> While I help in the club when I can, serving as a monitor or taking part in demonstrations, I don&#039;t play often. It&#039;s not that I don&#039;t want to or that my tastes are so particular that it is hard to find a playmate. It&#039;s the opposite in fact. On the BDSM-kink spectrum, I rank pretty basic.<br /> Sure, I&#039;ve done all the training and know the ins and outs of being a Dom, but it isn&#039;t really my jam. I absolutely have dominant tendencies, that is part of my personality and always will be. But I am not a Dom in the traditional sense. It can be fun to play in that dynamic sometimes to release some energy or assert control, but I don&#039;t enjoy the full power exchange that many subs are after. Nor am I into other BDSM categories like DDlg or pet play. In my everyday life especially, I don&#039;t want a relationship where I impose rules and punishments. I simply want a sweet partner I can support and care for who doesn&#039;t mind that I can be a bit of a bossy prick.<br /> &quot;I wasn&#039;t planning to play tonight,&quot; I respond. &quot;We leave for spring training next week. I&#039;ve got a lot to take care of before we go.&quot;<br /> &quot;Think I could persuade you?&quot; Cole questions.<br /> &quot;Something wrong?&quot;<br /> &quot;Wrong? No. An inconvenience? Yes. One of the House Doms had an emergency and can&#039;t be here tonight. We had him matched with a woman here to play for the first time. I don&#039;t have anyone else available who would match her profile. I&#039;d do it but I am overseeing a demonstration in the medical play room.<br /> &quot;She&#039;s a beginner and her questionnaire shows her interests as pretty mild. I thought you&#039;d be a good fit since I know you don&#039;t get into the hard stuff and enjoy the sweethearts. It could be a good last hurrah before you go.&quot;<br /> &quot;It has been a while since I&#039;ve played,&quot; I concede. &quot;What the heck, sure. I could use some fun before spending several weeks surrounded by sweaty, whiny dudes.&quot;<br /> &quot;Awesome, thanks, man. Eric will have her file for you upstairs.&quot;<br /> * * *<br /> I head up to the second-floor reception area where I see Eric and Willa. Eric is the member relations manager and Willa is one of the attendants who help get people settled into their various rooms and assists House Dominants.<br /> &quot;Mr. Miller, I didn&#039;t know you&#039;d be joining us tonight,&quot; Eric greets.<br /> &quot;I wasn&#039;t planning to, but Cole mentioned you had a Dom out and that I might be able to fill in with a new guest,&quot; I reply.<br /> &quot;Oh, I&#039;m glad it&#039;s you,&quot; Willa gushes. Seeing my confusion, she continues, &quot;I met the woman you&#039;re being matched with tonight. She is definitely going to need an experienced hand. She was a little nervous and unsure. Very cute, though. She&#039;s totally your type.&quot; She blushes, realizing she is rambling.<br /> &quot;That is good to know. I am happy to help,&quot; I remark as one of the House Doms, Craig, comes up to get his pairing. He grabs both files from Eric and hands mine over to me. He flips through his and sets it back on the desk with a dissatisfied expression<br /> &quot;I can lead you to the rooms,&quot; Willa comments. &quot;They&#039;ve been waiting for a little while. I bet they&#039;re getting antsy.&quot;<br /> &quot;We can find the way on our own. This isn&#039;t our first rodeo,&quot; Craig sneers, condescendingly. I make a mental note to have Cole talk to the Doms about how they speak to staff members. He shouldn&#039;t be giving her attitude for doing her job.<br /> &quot;Thank you for the offer, Willa,&quot; I say.<br /> I review the file of the woman I&#039;m meeting before giving it back to Eric. She has a degradation kink. I&#039;m surprised Cole thought I would be the right match for her. Don&#039;t get me wrong, I can play any role, but the way he and Willa were talking about her led me to believe she was a good girl-type. I typically go for women who are more into praise than degradation, but since I&#039;m playing substitute tonight, I guess I get what I get.<br /> I make my way down the hall after Craig. When I get to the doorI knock hard before turning the handle. When I open it, I am met with the sight of a beautiful creature standing in the middle of the room. Not only is she short, but she is also slender with slight curves shown off by a tight dark, velvet dress.<br /> Her long brown hair is striking against her metallic mask, but none of that compares to the big, hazel eyes that bore into me. After I take her in for a few moments, I realize I haven&#039;t said anything, and she is frozen in place. Her file made it sound as if she has a good understanding of what she wants in bed, but Cole did say she was new. As the Dom in this scenario, it&#039;s up to me to make the first move.<br /> &quot;Are you going to stand there staring at me all night you dirty little bimbo? As much as I enjoy your eyes devouring me, I have plans to bang them into the back of your head,&quot; I say in greeting.<br /> She sucks in a breath but other than that, she doesn&#039;t make a move. She must need a bit more prodding.<br /> &quot;Not used to man calling it like he sees it? Not used to a man ready to use your body for his pleasure? Don&#039;t worry, if you&#039;re a good little bimbo, I&#039;ll make sure you&#039;re so exhausted you sleep for a week,&quot; I promise. &quot;Come here.&quot;<br /> That kicks her into gear and she slowly makes her way closer to me. As she does, I drink her in. Everything about her is breathtaking, despite her small stature. I think my hands could span her entire rib cage.<br /> &quot;She does know how to obey. That&#039;s good, pet. Turn around.&quot; As she spins, I see her small curves in her dress. My hands itch to touch the soft fabric, but I need to ensure she is ready for everything about to happen first. While her back is to me now, we are standing in front of a full-length mirror. I wait for her to meet my gaze before I keep going.<br /> &quot;Do you remember everything they went over in your paperwork?&quot; I ask. She nods in response. It&#039;s then I realize I haven&#039;t heard her talk yet. &quot;Words,&quot; I grit. I need her verbal acknowledgment before this goes further.<br /> &quot;Yes,&quot; she breathes out quietly. Alright, then we&#039;re good to go. Examining her, it is hard to believe she is into degradation. I know you can&#039;t always tell someone&#039;s kink by their appearance, but she has this air of sweetness and vulnerability to her with those big doe eyes. I&#039;m not here to yuck anyone&#039;s yum, though. If this pixie wants to be degraded, degraded she will be.<br /> &quot;Normally I&#039;d tell a bimbo like you to get on your knees, but I don&#039;t think you&#039;d be able to reach my shaft from there. Take off your dress and kneel on the bed.&quot; When she remains where she is, I give her a sharp slap on the hip and tell her to get moving.<br /> She quickly goes over to the bed and glances at me from across the room. I walk over to the dresser and start to get more comfortable. I remove my watch and take off my jacket. I take my time scanning her body without her dress. Her perfect breasts and pert, pink papillae are on display as she kneels in a pair of delicate lace panties.<br /> I can&#039;t help but smirk as I watch her check out my abs and chest. I earned this body through hours spent at the gym and in practice. But I have never felt as proud of it as I do now with how her gaze eats me up. When her eyes snap back up to mine, I address her again.<br /> &quot;Look at you on your knees waiting for me. You&#039;re needy, aren&#039;t you? Pathetic and desperate for my shaft? Your greedy private part is going to have to wait until I&#039;m ready. I want you begging for it before I give it to you,&quot; I state.<br /> I expect to see heat flare in her eyes or watch her clench her thighs, but her body language and facial expression don&#039;t give anything away. If I was an outside observer, I would say she wasn&#039;t into this, but she is the one who filled out the profile questionnaire. She&#039;d have no reason to lie unless she was trying to get paired with a specific Dom based on kink. There is no way for her to know who she&#039;d match with, though. Profile matches are random and based on availability and preferences which can vary by the day. While newbies are only matched with House Doms or other approved, experienced members, regular members can match with each other.<br /> The idea that she might have wanted to be with someone else tonight causes pain in my chest. This little doll is mine – at least for tonight, anyway. Doll is the right word for her with her big eyes and delicate features. I wish I could peer into them again, but she isn&#039;t making eye contact, it&#039;s almost as if she&#039;s staring through me which will not do. I guess I need to amp this up another level.<br /> &quot;What&#039;s wrong, pet? You don&#039;t want me to call you desperate? But you are, aren&#039;t you? You came here tonight to be my doll. Desperate for me to make a mess of you. That&#039;s what you want, isn&#039;t it? To be my pathetic little bimbo?&quot;<br /> Just when I think she is going to respond, she bursts into sobs. For a moment, I freeze. What is happening? I&#039;ve never had anyone react this way to me before. Sure, I&#039;ve had partners tear up after an intense climax but never full body weeping. I know part of degradation is humiliation, but that should be turning her on, not making her cry.<br /> I move toward her to try to offer a comforting touch but she flinches back and clambers to the other side of the bed. &quot;Why are you being mean to me?&quot; she gets out in between sobs.<br /> Mean? That isn&#039;t the word most people would use in this context. I know she isn&#039;t experienced, but her file said degradation was her kink. She thinks I&#039;m being mean to her? Isn&#039;t that what she wanted? Something is not right. This has gone all wrong since the second I walked into the room. I need to see where she is at ASAP. I need to turn this encounter around.<br /> &quot;Color?&quot; I inquire.<br /> I think she says, &quot;what?&quot; in between hiccups.<br /> &quot;What color are you?&quot;<br /> She takes a few deep breaths and manages to get an answer out. &quot;White, although I&#039;m Italian... Maybe olive?&quot;<br /> White? Olive? What the heck is she talking about?<br /> &quot;No, baby, what stoplight color are you? Green, yellow, or red? Do you need to safe word?&quot;<br /> She stares at me for a minute before responding, &quot;Safe word? We aren&#039;t having intercourse yet.&quot;<br /> Who gave this woman her safety spiel? A safe word can be used any time in any circumstance. Before I can tell her that, there is a loud, persistent knock at the door. I don&#039;t want to walk away while she is crying, but she doesn&#039;t want my comfort and the knock is insistent.<br /> I open the door to find a flustered Eric.<br /> &quot;What?&quot; I grit. &quot;There better be an emergency if you&#039;re interrupting a session.&quot;<br /> &quot;What file did you read? What did it say?&quot; he rushes out, voice sounding slightly panicked.<br /> &quot;The one for this room. New, probationary member into degradation and open to impact play, bondage, and a variety of toys,&quot; I repeat.<br /> he exclaims as he runs his hand though his fair. &quot;I think the files got switched when Craig grabbed them. The one you read wasn&#039;t for her.&quot;<br /> &quot;What?&quot; I grouse. If that&#039;s true, this is a huge mix up and reflects terribly on the club. We need to figure this out now to make sure it is a one time issue caused at the desk and not a systematic error.<br /> I turn to the woman – who has thankfully stopped crying and is now only sniffling – that I will be right back. I take one last glance at her before I leave and head to meet Cole up front.<br /> When I return to the room a few minutes later, I am disappointed but not surprised to see she is gone. She must have left through the side stairs because I would have seen her walk by the desk. I read her file when I was there. She is not into degradation at all. In fact, she might be on the entire other end of the spectrum. No wonder she reacted the way she did. I hate that she ran out and I&#039;m not able to fix this situation. There is no telling where this encounter left her emotionally.<br /> The idea that something I did could have hurt her sits heavy in my chest as I proceed to Cole&#039;s office to discuss what happened. I know the client relations team will try to follow up with her, but I doubt she&#039;ll respond. I could probably get into the application portal but that would be highly unethical and I would be guessing which profile was hers, anyway. Hopefully, she&#039;ll return to the club in the future and I can make it right.

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