Over the loud music, Rachel yelled, “What do you two want to drink?”
Shelly was so busy staring at the way people were moving and acting in all their different outfits that she didn’t answer.
“Shel?” Rachel asked her again.
Shelly turned to look at her. “I need a tequila shot please.”
Lena piped up then and yelled, “Me, too.”
Rachel spun back around to the bartender and leaned her palms up on the counter, effectively moving her body halfway across the bar. The younger looking man, probably in his early twenties, stepped forward immediately.
“Did you hear that, Riley?”
Shelly watched as the bartender nodded, his eyes only on Rachel. Then, he said something that almost made Shelly fall flat on her face.
“Yes. Miss Rachel.”
“Good boy. Now, come here.” Miss Rachel told the young man.
Shelly felt Lena grip her arm and squeeze.
“What the hell is she doing?” she hissed in Shelly’s ear.
Shelly watched as Rachel stretched across the bar’s counter.
“I think she’s sealing a deal, or proving a...” Shelly paused utterly bewildered, and then looked at Lena clueless. “I have no goddamn idea. Did you know all about this?” Shelly demanded. “No wonder she doesn’t want Mason to know. He’d flip his lid.”
Lena’s eyes were huge as she looked over at her soon to be sister-in-law. “I’m worried about her.”
“Because of this?” Shelly asked, looking back to see the bartender now licking Rachel’s neck slowly with his hands behind his back.
Mesmerized by the odd nature of what was going on before her, Shelly stood frozen, unable to look away. Once the bartender, Riley, had completed his…task, goal? Shit, Shelly had no clue what to call it. He stepped back and waited patiently for his next order. Aha! That’s the word—order!
Rachel then moved from the bar and shook her hands by her side, as though coming out of a trance, before turning to face them both with a smile.
Shelly imagined that she and Lena looked like they could have caught flies as they stared slack-jawed at the usually bubbly and fun-loving pastry chef. Oh yeah, Mason would have a shit fit if he knew where his baby sister was spending her nights.
“Riley is going to bring us tequila for the rest of the night. It would be rude not to drink it,” Rachel informed.
Shelly raised a brow at the forceful tone of Rachel’s statement, and then decided, What the hell? You only live once.
Looking over at Lena, Shelly grinned. “I wanted to forget Josh Daniels. I can’t think of a better place to do that than here. You game?”
Lena looked over to her fiancé’s sister, who was staring at them with those serious blue eyes again. Shelly followed her friend’s gaze and also zoomed in on the stranger, formerly known as Rachel, that was standing before them.
Who is this woman?
“You promise I will get home safely?” Lena asked her.
Rachel finally smiled in a somewhat familiar way, and Shelly had to admit the power she was throwing their way was kind of cool.
How does she do that?Super Domme powers? Ha ha, Super Domme! Shelly giggled giving the words a low deep ‘movie announcer’ voice in her head. Put on leather pants, and BAM, you’re an instant hypnotist?
Either way, Shelly wished she had been wearing a pair when she had been looking at Melissa this afternoon because she would have advised her to take a long walk off of a short pier.
“I would never let anything happen to either of you, Lena. You have my word,” Rachel told them.
Shelly had to admit that this version of Rachel could tell her it was safe to go into a dark padded room, and she’d probably believe her.
Turning to Lena, Shelly smiled and nodded before looking back to Rachel.
“Well? Where’s the tequila, my friend?”
Rachel looked over the bar to the statue of Riley and said nothing, just gave a slight nod of the head, but he understood because he scurried off.
As he walked away to presumably get the shots, Shelly couldn’t help but liken him to a certain ninety-pound hairball.
One-and-a-half sweaty hours later and four tequila shots down, the three of them moved off the dance floor, making their way back to the bar.
Lena was at the end of the bar, leaning her back up against it. Shelly stood next to her, and then beside her was Rachel, who turned to face the ever-present Riley. Once again awaiting orders.
Shelly had to admit that, as far as she could tell, it was a good system Rachel had going. Hey, more power to her.
No man would ever tell Super Domme what to do, Shelly thought as her vision of Rachel started to blur a little. Giggling, she watched as Rachel turned toward her.
“Having fun?” Rachel asked.
Shelly nodded, and then turned her head back slowly, so she could focus on Lena.
“Yep, we’re drunk,” Shelly slurred as she leaned into her closest friend and colleague. “The room is spinning a little.”
Lena nodded before looking out to the sea of black leather, silver-studded collars, and PVC booty shorts. She giggled, saying, “You know these people all look ahh-ma-zing.”
Looking out to the dance floor, Shelly had to admit that the club had lost quite a few patrons as the time had ticked by—probably since it was a Monday night.
Then, she noticed that the remaining people were from a different kind of crowd. This crowd looked fitter, younger, better-looking. It was almost as if the young ones came out to play later at night.
As Shelly stood leaning back on the bar, the three of them all looked to the dance floor.
“He’s sexy,” Rachel pointed out.
Shelly looked over to where she was pointing.
There was an auburn-haired man dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans, who was bobbing his head around to the music.
Shelly looked him over—yeah, he is attractive—but his hair was the wrong color, and it was too short. He wasn’t muscular enough either, and when he turned to look at them, his green eyes weren’t chocolate brown.
Damn Josh Daniels! Even drunk in a place called Whipped, he was still in her freakin’ head.
Lena took that moment to peer around Shelly at Rachel. “Would ya fuck him?”
Shelly looked at her fellow doctor in shock. “Oh hello, nosy?” Shelly sing-songed with a giggle. Then, she too turned to Rachel and asked, “So, would you?”
Just as Rachel was about to answer, a low voice interrupted. “She would, but she shouldn’t.”
Both Lena, and then a more controlled Rachel, turned to peer down to the very end corner of the bar where a man sat with his back against the wall. He was out of the light, so in their inebriated state, they really couldn’t see much. Shelly noticed he seemed to be twirling a lowball scotch glass in his hand.
“And why shouldn’t I?” Rachel asked the man, acting much bolder than Shelly had expected.
“Because he’s not your type,” the guy told her in that same smooth I-know-I’m-right kind of voice.
Shelly watched Rachel roll her eyes as she turned away to look back out at the crowd.
Lena took that opportunity to walk over and stand in front of Rachel. “Do you know that guy?”
Rachel shook her head. “No. I’ve never seen him before.” She seemed thoughtful for a moment, and then added, “But guys like him—they’re all the same.”
This interested a drunken Shelly immensely.