Authors: Kim Dare
An A-Z Story
By Kim Dare
Resplendence Publishing, LLC
Resplendence Publishing, LLC
2665 N Atlantic Avenue, #349
Daytona Beach, FL 32118
Copyright © 2012 Kim Dare
Edited by Christine Allen-Riley
Cover art by Les Byerly,
Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-463-5
Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Electronic Release: February 2012
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.
Because women who love women deserve happy endings too
Samantha Bevan stared at the man kneeling before her for several long seconds. No doubt he was very good looking, as men went. Samantha was sure lots of women would love to have him crawling at their feet and offering to do whatever they wanted. Lots of
women, at least.
Lifting her gaze, Samantha looked past the nearly naked figure. The club was poorly lit and full of shadows, but all the important points were immediately clear to an artist’s eye, and they added up to one thing. Samantha had screwed up—big time.
She looked down once more. The guy was still there. Samantha retreated a step and promptly backed into a huge pillar. It might have looked like marble, but it felt suspiciously like a cheap imitation as Samantha scrabbled at it in an effort to stay upright.
“I…I think we might have our wires crossed,” she mumbled.
The man crawled closer.
Samantha stepped to her right, straight into a huge potted fern set on a wobbly pseudo-classical stand. It was just the kind of prop Gerald was keen on.
No doubt Anna would have looked like some sort of ancient Greek goddess standing next to it, especially if she was draped in nothing more than a clean white sheet that clung to every beautiful curve on her body.
Samantha probably appeared more like a… Still clutching the potted fern, Samantha looked down at her jeans, T-shirt and trainers. She was far more like some scruffy little street urchin that scrambled for pennies outside the goddess’ temple.
In hindsight, it would have been a really good idea to have found out a few pertinent details about the club before she’d stalked Anna into it. Such as how much leather a woman needed to wear if she didn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb.
At any other time, Samantha wouldn’t have hesitated to reach for her sketch book and enjoy the view but, as she glanced down at the nearly naked man before her, any inclination to draw a single line faded away.
“May I fetch you a drink, mistress?”
Thick treacle suddenly poured down upon her and filled her whole world. It took her several hours to turn her head, but she already knew who the voice belonged to. Each syllable damn near dripped with a wonderful mixture of sex and supreme self-confidence.
Finally, Samantha’s gaze fell on Anna. It obviously wasn’t just the light in Gerald’s studio that made the other woman seem to be so stunning while she sat for portrait after portrait.
After watching Anna work as a life model for the last six months, there wasn’t much of the other woman that Samantha hadn’t seen, but she’d never appeared in Gerald’s studio dressed as she was now. Samantha’s mouth went dry as she ran her eyes over Anna.
Her hair hung in perfect black waves down her back. Cream-colored riding breeches clung to long, shapely legs until they disappeared into high, glossy boots. A crisp, white shirt molded itself to Anna’s breasts, the top button left undone to reveal just a tiny hint of cleavage and—
Samantha could only open her mouth and hope like hell that whatever words tumbled out didn’t prove to be too embarrassing.
“Anna! It’s so good to see you here.”
Tearing her gaze away from Anna for a moment, Samantha carefully placed the potted plant back on its stand and reviewed her response. All in all, it could have been a lot worse. It might have been better if said in a pitch audible to humans as well as certain species of bats and dogs, but still…
“Is he with you?” Anna asked.
Samantha looked down, remembered the kneeling guy, and promptly forgot about both the pillar and the planter as she tried to put some distance between them. She caught the fern just in time to stop it from braining the poor sod.
“No,” Samantha managed to say, in a slightly more normal tone. “I’ve never seen him before in my life.”
Reaching out to the kneeling man, Anna calmly rotated the leather collar around the man’s neck until a silver tag appeared. “Thank you, Mitch. You may go back to your duties.”
Mitch pulled himself to his feet and quickly made his way toward one of the other women who had just entered the club. Samantha watched him go, feigning far more interest in him than she had ever felt toward any man.
“Mitch wasn’t what you were looking for when you came here?” Anna asked.
Playing for time, Samantha once more steadied the plant on its stand. She then took several paces away from the damn thing.
“He’s not really my type,” Samantha finally mumbled. “I…um…”
“Had no idea what sort of club this was until he knelt at your feet and offered you his submission?” Anna suggested.
Samantha cleared her throat. “Something like that.”
Expecting the worst, she forced herself to look up and meet the other woman’s gaze. To her amazement, Anna actually seemed to be smiling at her.
“Come and have a drink with me.” As invitations went, it sounded far more like an order.
“There’s no need for you to be nice to me,” Samantha rushed out. “I just—”
The sudden crack of a whip on the far side of the room made her jump.
Anna didn’t laugh, although Samantha was quite prepared to admit that she had every right to.
“Come on.” Anna’s hand came to rest on the small of Samantha’s back. The heat from her palm quickly soaked through Samantha’s thin T-shirt. It was all Samantha could do not to arch her back like a cat. Hell, it was more luck than judgment that enabled her to hold back a purr!
As much as part of her loved Anna’s touch, after months of gazing at the model, of wishing that she could get her hands on Anna, and of wishing she could get Anna’s hands on her own body in return, the platonic little caress was a cruel mockery of how Samantha had hoped the evening might end.
She stepped quickly away, suddenly wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of the club as quickly as possible. “Really,” she babbled. “It’s fine. I can just—”
“Samantha,” Anna cut in. “You’re going to come with me and have a drink. The decision has already been made. Just do as you’re told now, there’s a good girl.”
It was that tone of voice that had first pulled her attention to Anna. Beautiful women were ten a penny in Gerald’s art studio, but one who could make the great artist keep his hands to himself with nothing more than a politely phrased warning and a raised eyebrow…
“Um… Okay,” Samantha mumbled.
A moment passed. Anna lifted one hand to stroke Samantha’s hair back from her face.
It wasn’t until then that Samantha noticed Anna was carrying a riding crop. Her brain short-circuited at the sight of it. Her buttocks tensed as if in anticipation of the first blow. Eyes never leaving the thin strip of black leather, Samantha made no further protest as Anna led her to a small sofa set in a private little alcove on the far side of the room.
“Why did you come here tonight?” Anna asked, sinking gracefully onto one end of the sofa.
Samantha glanced across at her as she perched cautiously on the very edge of the seat at the other end of the plush velvet sofa.
“I heard you mention the club to one of Gerald’s students after one of your sittings.” Samantha was pretty sure she’d never intended to admit anything of the sort, but suddenly the words were out there, and it was too late to snatch them back. “It sounded…interesting,” she mumbled, shrugging, as if it were no big deal.
“Did you hear me say it’s a club that caters to dominant women?” Anna asked. Idly toying with her crop, she ran the full length of the implement through her fingers again and again. Samantha was mesmerized.
“And to their admirers,” she said, without thinking. A moment later, Samantha closed her eyes and mentally cursed herself.
“Nothing,” Samantha said. Sitting back, she slouched down into the fine upholstery and prayed that the sofa might swallow her up completely. Unfortunately, no convenient escape hatch appeared to have been built into the obviously expensive piece of furniture. Damn!
“I asked you a question, Samantha. I expect an answer, and I expect it to be given in a clear and understandable tone of voice.”
It was almost impossible not to want to live up to the woman’s expectations, but even so, Samantha could barely make the words more than a whisper. “You said the club was for female dominants
and their admirers
Samantha remembered that particular conversation very well. She’d replayed it over and over inside her head during the last week. She’d analyzed it and dissected it; she’d masturbated to it, and now…
“You’re not here as a dominant.”
Samantha damn near heard the penny drop inside Anna’s head as the other woman said it. Well, give her a prize!
Samantha said nothing, settling for merely turning her head and staring out into the rest of the club as if there could be anyone there more interesting than Anna.
“Samantha?” Long, elegant fingers touched the side of Samantha’s face and coaxed her to turn around.
“I’m sorry. I… There was a rumor in the studio that you… I mean that…”
Heat raced to Samantha’s cheeks. There was no way in hell this was going to turn out well. If Anna took offense and it came down to the model or the artist’s assistant, Samantha knew who Gerald would consider the most easily expendable and…
Anna’s fingers slid under Samantha’s chin and encouraged her to look up, but that was probably only because keeping her head down made it look as if she were trying to stare down Anna’s cleavage.
Samantha forced herself to transfer her gaze to the other woman’s face. “I’m
” she began again. But that was all she managed to say.
Anna smiled as she brushed her lips lightly against Samantha’s mouth. The girl gasped in surprise, but if there was any part of her that wanted to pull back from the kiss, it certainly didn’t have the casting vote.
The younger woman’s eyes fell closed, pale eyelashes fanning out against the skin beneath her eyes. She leaned into the kiss.
Cupping Samantha’s cheek with her left palm, Anna threaded the fingers of her right hand through the short spiky strands of blonde hair that framed Samantha’s face and held her at the best angle to be kissed.
Tracing her tongue along the seam between her lips, Anna gently but firmly informed Samantha that she expected to be given complete access to any part of her she desired.