She's All In: Club 3, Book 1 (19 page)

“Thanks, Mama. I got it from you.”

Her father gave her a hug and then quizzed her. “I hear you had a young man with you at your walk yesterday. Who is he?”

“He’s a building contractor,” Daisy told him. “And he owns a gym.” She told him about meeting Dack at Big Iron.

“So you’re dating, huh?”

Daisy blushed furiously, remembering what she and Dack had done before their “date”. But she smiled gamely. “Yup. We’re dating.”

“Well, he’s quite the businessman,” her mother said. “And he’s handsome, even with that ponytail. Big.” She mimed flexing burly muscles, and Daisy grinned.
 

“A ponytail?” Her father frowned dubiously.

“Oh, Dad, lots of guys have long hair.”

“I guess. Well, you’d better bring him by, let me get a look at him.”

Daisy nodded. “I will, Daddy. We just started dating, so…give it a while.”

She and her father discussed work and her class, and then she hugged them good-bye and escaped to fold her laundry and get ready for work the next day.

The rest of the week flew by in a haze of summer heat and a busy work schedule. Her boss, Joel Barris, let her go with him on two get-acquainted appointments with new clients, and then on Wednesday she got to stage a house with Tranh, the assistant who worked for both Joel and his partner Cheryl.

She worked out at the gym, went to class and walked in the mornings when it was cool.

Friday was not a good day. First, Joel was out sick, so she spent much of the day taking his phone calls while scrambling to get her own work done. A huge amount of paperwork accompanied each property listing and sale, and all of it had to be done perfectly. Any mistake could result in bank loans being refused or contracts voided, which meant money lost. Daisy was not going to make that kind of mistake.

Second, when her stomach growled, she realized she’d forgotten her lunch. At ninety-six degrees it was too darn hot to walk to the nearest shopping center in a black sundress, so she was forced to eat from the vending machines in the realty office’s staff lunch room. She could have driven to the store, but that was such a waste of gas.

She munched on peanut-butter crackers, an apple someone had left on the table and a diet Pepsi, because all the Coke Zero was gone from the staff refrigerator. If someone had told her they drank the last one, she could have stopped at the store on her way to work.

Joel’s partner Cheryl and Tranh were out of the office as well, staging two homes south of Portland, so it was just Daisy and Hervé, Cheryl’s secretary in the office, along with the few customers who wandered in. Daisy liked chatting with customers and clients, but today she was so swamped, the quiet was nice.

She wished she were the one out staging houses. Soon she hoped she’d be allowed to do some on her own. It meant odd hours, since her secretarial duties still had to be done, but that was okay since she had no one waiting at home.

To top off her long day, Sam showed up fifteen minutes before the office closed with papers for Joel. “Hi, Daisy.”

She looked up, smiling extra bright to cover her instinctive wince. “Hi, Sam. How are you?”

The handsome Realtor held up a folder. “I have some papers for Joel. The Stimson deal?”

“You bet. Just put them on his desk.”

She went back to tidying up the final paperwork on another deal, making sure all the sticky tabs were in place for the signing on Monday. Sam came out of Joel’s office and leaned on her desk, watching.

Daisy kept her head down, self-conscious. She was wearing one of her favorite dresses, a black wrap that clung to her waist, skimmed her hips and veed in the front to show just a hint of cleavage, unless she was bent over as she was now. In which case her cleavage was deeper than she was comfortable flashing a man she wasn’t attracted to.

Wishing she was wearing a turtleneck, she doggedly finished stacking the papers, and went in to set them on the counter by Joel’s desk.

Sam was still there when she came out. Damn, he looked at her like a hungry man viewing a banquet, with no idea where to get a plate. And she was not the woman with the patience to show him how to hold his utensil. She wanted a man like Dack, who told her what to do and somehow made her love it.

Maybe Sam should come to Club 3 and find a fem domme to tell him what to do. But then she thought of him watching while she played with Dack. Nope, Sam was on his own, sexually anyway.

“Daisy, you ready?” Hervé called from the other room.

Daisy blessed him silently. “Sure am,” she caroled back. She shut off her computer, grabbed her purse from the bottom drawer and motioned to Sam. “Let’s go. It’s the weekend, baby.”

Sam followed her out into the baking heat of the small parking lot, while Hervé shut off the lights and locked up the building. He’d be back in the morning, as he worked Tuesdays through Saturdays.

“Bye,” Daisy said. “Have fun at the cabin.” Hervé’s partner owned a small cabin on one of the pristine reservoirs an hour north in Washington state.

“I will, thanks, chica,” Hervé returned. “Stay out of trouble, si?” He winked at her, and she laughed. She knew darn well he’d approve of any trouble she got into. Maybe one day she would invite him and his dark, intense lover to the club. Heck, Raul was probably a dom.

“Bye, Sam,” Daisy said.

But he followed her to her car. “I was hoping you might want to have dinner with me again.”

Daisy shook her head, trying her best to look regretful as she squinted into the bright sun. She clicked her car locks and opened the driver’s door. Heat spilled out, as if she wasn’t already hot enough. “That’s sweet of you, but I’m…seeing someone special.”

He dipped his head, and was he actually kicking her tire with his toe? Give the boy a stem of hay to chew. “Guess that’s it, then, huh?”

She dug her sunglasses from her purse and thrust them on. “Guess so. See you, Sam. Thanks for asking.”

She drove out onto the street with the air conditioner blasting cool air on her face and arms. Thank God for Fridays. Of course, summer Friday afternoons in Portland meant one thing—traffic sucked. Everyone was either trying to get out of the city or get somewhere with air-conditioning, happy hour drinks and food they didn’t have to cook.

Daisy had no plans for the weekend, other than studying and maybe some quality time at the river or her parents’ pool. And hopefully an evening at Club 3. She smiled to herself as she thought of Dack there, wearing his leathers and that commanding stare.

She made it home and stopped in the apartment lobby to check her mail without enthusiasm. She wasn’t expecting anything but a credit card bill. But a neatly wrapped soft mailer had been stuffed in on top of a few envelopes. She grabbed it, eyeing the address label with interest. Was it a mistake? No, it was addressed to her in bold printing.

The return address was a puzzler. Some company called Three Iron Corporation, with a Portland post office box.

She stopped in the middle of the lobby. Three—Club 3. Iron—Big Iron Fitness. A three iron was also a golf club, although what that had to do with Dack and his two partners she had no idea. Maybe one of the other guys played golf.

What mattered to her was that this package was from Dack—it had to be. This was why he’d asked her if she got mail at home or work.

The package was soft, squishy. Clothing? Hopefully it wasn’t his cast-off T-shirt from the walk-a-thon. He might think it was funny to send it to her for a nightshirt or something.

Giddily, she locked her mailbox, grabbed her mail along with her purse and hurried up the stairs to her apartment. Inside, she dumped her things on the table, dug her scissors from the junk drawer and carefully slit open the mailer.

She pulled out something wrapped in silver metallic tissue, sealed with a glossy sticker in the shape of pouty red lips, pursed for a sexy kiss. Holy crap, it was from the shop downtown where she’d found her leather thong, Kiss Me, Kink Me.

Dack had bought her fetish wear? Okay, that was…scary.

She opened the tissue gingerly, expecting to see black vinyl or garish red satin. Instead, she saw lace. Soft aqua blue lace. Her favorite color—how did he know that?

She touched the garment with reverent fingertips. Soft and silky. Hooking her fingers under the lace shoulder straps, she lifted it carefully. The lace draped from her fingers, pooling on top of another scrap of lace. It was a thigh-length camisole or nightie and tiny panties. Both were saved from complete translucence by a thin under layer of sheer fabric. The panties had ribbon ties at each hip.

It was the prettiest, sexiest lingerie she’d ever received. And he’d bought it for her.

A small envelope had been inserted into the panties. Her name was printed on it in the same bold hand that had printed the mailing label. She set the cami aside and ripped open the envelope, pulling out the card. The card was inscribed with the store’s trademark shiny lips. It said:
Petal, Saturday is Lingerie Night at Club 3. Wear this for me. D
 

Daisy drew a long, shaky breath. Oh my God, he wanted her to come to the club in this? Dizzy with terror and excitement, she picked up the panties and stared at them. So tiny and so sheer.

Underneath lay another piece of fabric, aqua silk patterned with exotic black flowers. Daisy picked it up, and it unfurled into a short kimono.

Aww. She hugged the kimono to her breast. The man might be a dom, but he was also a big sweetie. He knew she’d freak at the thought of wearing lingerie in public. He’d given her an extra layer of armor.

She’d wear the ensemble. And she’d take it off too. For him.

She carried the things into her bedroom, setting the card carefully on her bedside table. Then she took a quick shower, dried off and came back out to look at the frail lace and silk draped over her white quilt. This called for a drink. Draping her bath towel on the rack, she padded naked into her kitchen and poured herself a glass of chilled chardonnay from a local vineyard.

Taking a sip, she walked back into her bedroom. She toasted the lingerie and took another drink of wine before setting down her glass. “Here’s hoping you fit.”

The cami slid on, caressing her skin with a cool whisper of silk and the scratch of new lace. She tugged on the panties, giggling at the saucy bows riding the front of her hipbones. Then she donned the kimono, leaving it open.

She turned to the mirror and posed provocatively. “Hi, Dack. I’m here.”

Then she danced around her bedroom, too full of excitement to stand still, until she stubbed her toe on her bedpost and came back to reality with a thud.

She sat on her bed and wiggled her injured toe until she was convinced it wasn’t broken. Then she called Sara.

“I’m going to lingerie night at the club!”

Sara squealed with delight. “Wait a minute, Carlie’s here. Let me put you on speaker so she can hear.”

Daisy pouted. “You guys are hanging out, huh?”

Carlie groaned. “No, we’re working out. At least I am. Sara’s cracking her whip.”

Daisy frowned. “Are you where people can hear me?” she whispered loudly.

“No, silly,” Sara said. “We’re on the exercise mats, and there’s hardly anyone at the gym anyway.”

“Yeah, because everyone else is out having fun,” Carlie whined.

Daisy laughed. “Why the Friday-night workout?”

“Because,” Carlie said excitedly. “You’re not going to believe this, Daise. I tried to call you earlier, and you didn’t pick up.”

“My boss was gone, and all I had time to do was take his calls and get my work done. What’s up?” Daisy asked.

“Remember the hot guy?” Carlie asked excitedly. “He asked me out on a date tomorrow night. And you’ll never guess where to.”

“He wants to fly you to Paris for dinner?” Daisy asked teasingly.

“No, silly. He invited me out for dinner and dancing.”

“That’s great,” Daisy said. “Where are you going?”

“Who cares? Somewhere downtown. But I found a great little black dress—which I can zip if I do like fifty more crunches and then don’t eat much tomorrow.”

“Gotcha.” So that was why the emergency workout session. “Well, I hope you have a superb time. And um, after?”

“What?” Carlie asked innocently.

Daisy snickered. “That’s what I thought. You gonna go for it if he asks you?”

“I am,” Carlie agreed. “And I think he will. He’s…the masterful type, you know?”

“What’s Mr. Masterful’s name?”

“Rafe Sambuhl.”

“Ooh, a sheikh,” Daisy teased.

“Not. He’s a stock trader,” Carlie said. “But he does kinda have that desert-prince vibe going on.”

“Awesome. We can compare notes on Sunday,” Daisy told her. “Tomorrow night is lingerie night at the club. And Dack sent me a little present.”

“He sent you lingerie? I can’t wait to see that,” Sara said.

“Well, I can’t wait to see what you wear,” Daisy reminded her.

Sara groaned. “Now I have to go shopping. I wonder if they make granny panties in my size.”

“Eww,” Carlie protested. “If you go, you are wearing something gorgeous.”