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sitting at the table. Canin glanced around and didn't see the man's wife in the quickly emptying room.
Brett Kinsey had disappeared as well. Ouch. Been there, man, Hugh said. You must've done
something to piss her off. Better start thinking about what it could have been so that you can apologize
if you want back into your bed. Deep shadows filled Hugh's gaze, but he surprised the hell out of
Canin by not looking away. Don't let it go too long. In a place like this, with so much variety to
choose from, you risk never quite getting her fully back.
Canin growled. Thanks, but I don't share her. With anyone.
I didn't either. Hugh wrapped his hand around his wineglass so hard Canin thought it might
shatter under the force. At first. If you're not careful and very, very open about what you want, a
place like this can destroy a couple. You look at your wife with a lot of passion, and she does the
same to you, Hugh shared. I'd hate to see it turn cold and bitter. Just a bit of advice from someone
with a few more years and life experience on him. Take it or leave it.
Don't put us in the grave yet, man. Twin forces battled in Canin, tugging a sick feeling in his gut.
A sense of greed that Hugh had just offered Canin an outlet to more information battled against
Canin's instinctual desire to lighten some of the darkness he saw in Hugh Chalmers's eyes. I'm only
thirty-seven, and you can't be that much older.
Forty-three next month. Hugh shifted his gaze to the left and his dark eyes shadowed once again.
Canin turned and found Amanda entering the room with Brett Kinsey. The man had his arm loosely
around Amanda's waist. Hugh's smooth voice suddenly thickened with rust, and he added softly,
perhaps not meant for Canin's ears, Some days it seems like a dozen years more. Abruptly, he
stood. As he straightened his jacket, everything on Hugh Chalmers's surface became slick and cool
once again. Excuse me, will you? I need to speak to my wife.
Canin watched Hugh join his wife and Brett, his shoulders pushed back with a bit too much
stiffness for Canin to buy as casual confidence. He saw a man cloaked in a protective layer of armor.
His wife spoke, but she barely looked at him, and she didn't touch him. Even so, Hugh nodded at
whatever she said and followed the small group out of the room.
Canin had the thought that his fake marriage to Kasey was a thousand times more real than Hugh's
legitimate one. Interesting& and sad.
Canin went in search of a discreet conversation with his brother. He knew he shouldn't risk it at the
club but, Christ, he needed to unload on someone he could trust.
* * *
Kasey washed her hands at one of the ornately designed sinks in the elegant bathroom done in
creams, Wedgwood blues, and marble. If Kasey lived in another time, or this weren't a sex club, she
might call it a powder room. When finished, she took a small towel from an attendant and dried her
hands, leaving a tip God, she hoped a couple of bucks was an okay amount in a lovely crystal
bowl perched on a low divider wall. She shared a thank-you for the service.
Kasey passed through a large, cushioned seating area on the way out, and as she did, a muffled,
squeaking noise reached her ears. Scanning the three small clusters of women sitting in the room,
Kasey discarded them and came upon a lone woman bent over with her head between her knees, the
long blonde fall of her hair hanging to the floor. Tara Pickering. Kasey would recognize the striking,
pure whiteness of her tresses anywhere. Glancing to the other groups of women, Kasey had to fight
down the urge to knock some heads together. God, didn't any one of them care that this woman was
crying, albeit quietly?
Damn it, Kasey didn't want to snap to a judgment, but her radar sent squealing, buzzing signals to
ringing in her head that told her one thing: Jonathan Pickering had something to do with his wife's
tears. A myriad of days and nights spent with her face buried in her pillow, all the while knowing that
no one would come and put a hand on her back or her shoulder to soothe, had Kasey across the room,
her boot heels click click clicking on the tiled floor with her approach.
Getting to the woman's side, Kasey sat down next to her. She deliberately put herself close enough
so Tara could feel her body heat but forced her hands into a loose clasp on her lap.
Sometimes, Kasey started, the world just sucks, and you have to cry. Tara whipped her head
up and put a big-eyed, wet stare on Kasey. Red rimmed Tara's eyes and shined the top of her nose.
Kasey offered a small smile and a shrug of her shoulders. Otherwise, you'll go mad.
I'm fine. Softness edged Tara's voice, doubling Kasey's image that this woman would break on
one loud noise. I was told to come in here and take a few minutes to ready myself before we leave.
Leave? Kasey dug into the pocket of her slacks and pulled out a neatly folded Kleenex,
something she carried with her all the time. Allergies. The bane of her existence since taking in Zin.
Somewhere you're not sure you want to go?
It's nothing, Tara insisted. Her attention dropped back to the floor, and she twisted the tissue in
her hand tighter, and tighter, and tighter, rather than use it to wipe her nose. Once we're there and he
begins to instruct me, I won't have time to think or have worries. Tara lifted her head, and Kasey
watched her cheeks turn ruddy, joining her nose and eyes. I'm sure you could tell by what my
husband said to you the other night that he likes to see someone dominate me. I'm& I'm a sub. She
looked away and blinked hard, but it didn't keep the stream of tears from falling. Training to be his
slave.
Kasey closed her eyes and breathed. She took herself back to the last time she'd had sex, not
counting what she did to Canin the other night. Two years ago, the man's wrists and ankles cuffed to
one of her kitchen chairs, her front facing away from him, riding his cock so that she didn't have to
look into his eyes and see the questions about why she needed him restrained in order to let him
inside her body. Kasey forced herself to look at the picture she made if other people were to see her
at her most bizarre, and suppressed her knee-jerk reaction to Tara's statement. Slave. The word
brought out an instinct to cringe.
Tara finally used the tattered tissue and wiped it delicately under her eyes. Her back straightened
some, and a wobbly smile appeared. You must think I'm silly, huh? Here I am in a sex club every
night, and I'm crying about the fact that hello I'm going to have sex tonight. Pretty wimpy of me,
don't you think?
Kasey assessed the woman's dewy skin and flawless features, and absorbed the puppy-dog
eagerness that seemed to take over her light brown eyes. I think you're very young. She didn't put
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