Energetic Love

Episode 4

She pointed toward the kitchen. “On the bar, please. I’ll put them away

later.”

He took his time walking across the living room, glancing around at the

interior of her apartment. From the impression he’d formed of her, he’d expected

pink, maybe yellow, lighter pastels. Girly colors and decor. Frilly s**t draped

from one end to the other. He couldn’t have been more mistaken.

The apartment was decorated in rich, dark earth tones. There was a

decidedly masculine feel to the furnishings. Burgundies, dark blue, greens. The

couch and love seat were dark brown leather, and they actually looked

comfortable, like they were sat in and not used solely for decoration. She was an

interesting contradiction. One that intrigued him greatly.

He set the groceries down and glanced over at the telephone. Looked like a

standard land line. Easy enough to tap, only he’d have to get into her apartment

when she wasn’t around and make damn sure she never found out about it.

He’d gleaned enough information from Nick and Nathan to know that she

was fairly routine in her comings and goings. Most weeknights she stayed home.

Friday and Saturday nights she spent out with the guy she was currently dating,

and Sundays she usually went over to Pop’s. She occasionally spent time over at

her brother’s or at Nathan’s or Nick’s place, but for the most part, she appeared

to be a loner.

When he turned back around to face her, he found her studying him, her eyes

hooded and wary. There was a subtle curiosity in her gaze, despite her reserve.

Like she couldn’t quite figure him out. Join the club, babe. He hadn’t exactly

been able to figure her out either in the short time they’d been acquainted.

Her arms were crossed, folded protectively over her midsection. They

inadvertently plumped her breasts, pushing them upward until they strained

against her shirt. He could just see the outline of her n*****s, pressing gently

outward.

“Would you like something to drink?” she asked politely, though her body

language told a different story. She wasn’t comfortable with him here. In her

space.

He smiled. “Thanks, but I have to go. I’m meeting Nick for drinks.” She pulled a face. “I know what that means.”

He arched his brow. “Oh?”

She laughed huskily. “If it’s Nick, it’ll involve lots of gorgeous women,

usually brainless gorgeous women, okay, make that half-dressed, brainless,

gorgeous women.”

“Sounds like my kind of guy,” he drawled.

She flushed again. “I didn’t take you for the brainless type.”

The corner of his mouth went up. So she’d been analyzing him. Very

interesting. And she didn’t take him for the brainless type. Good observation,

though it could have been a lucky guess. Frankly, he’d rather suffer a case of

blue balls before getting his d**k wet in a chick with more dead space than a

black hole.

“I like the half-dressed part,” he said with a grin.

Jenly rolled her eyes. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Ah, dismissed. He retreated. No sense spazzing her out. He’d meet Nick,

throw back a few, then he’d head over to the office to tap her phone. He’d wait

until she was at work to get into her apartment.

As he walked toward the door, her soft voice brushed over his ears.

“Thanks for the help.”

He turned his head. “Anytime.”

Jenly watched him go with an odd hitch in her breath. She hadn’t expected to

see him again so soon after their first encounter, but then she imagined they’d be

bumping into each other a lot, given they worked together and lived in the same

apartment complex.

She knew from Honnor that Jhon was a Melbourne cop on leave after his partner

had been killed in the line of duty. According to Nathan, Jhon wasn’t much of a

talker. He and Honnor should get along famously then, because Honnor was as tight-lipped as they came.

Nick and Nathan on the other hand…they more than made up for Honnor’s

seriousness with their antics. Fun loving. Not a serious bone in their body.

Jenly grinned. Just where Jhon would fit into the eclectic mix was anyone’s

guess.

She turned to put away all the groceries, and when she was done, she poured

herself a tall glass of tea before heading to her computer.

Setting her drink to the side, she slid into the chair and moved the mouse to

bring up the screen. She opened her browser and typed in the address for

Google.

Now, what to search. She sat there a long moment, staring at the empty

search field. What was she looking for? Did it have a name, this nebulous

craving twisting inside her?

Maybe she should be Googling what to do when you lost your ever-loving

mind. Finally she opted to type in a variety of words. Maybe by narrowing her

choices a bit, she wouldn’t be inundated with superfluous information, and if she

were really lucky, she’d actually get one or two sites that weren’t p**n.

control. Hmmm. What else? Oh wait, back up. Male

Control. Submission? No, that just sounded wrong. Okay, so she’d

just go with Male and Control for now.

Oh, geez. Research statistics. Was this actually a research topic? Maybe she

could find a hunky man willing to bend her over and…ohhh the

possibilities. She started scrolling faster, trying to outrun the erotic images

swimming in her head.

Spanking. Tied hand and foot. A man having complete power over her.

Bending her, making her submit.

Taking care of her.

And there was the biggest attractant of all. She sighed as she clicked through countless useless pages. Impatient, she

typed in another series of search words.

Control. b*****e.

At least these looked more promising. She scanned the topics and clicked on

a few of the offerings. Her brow furrowed as she began reading about female

submission.

Honestly, she’d never considered herself a submissive person. Yeah, she

wanted a strong man. Someone who didn’t have to ask. Who was confidant

enough to act. But did that make her submissive?

She wrinkled her nose. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to read up on it. At least then

she’d have a better idea of how to find this elusive creature: the dominant male.

God, she made it sound like an endangered species. But in today’s world,

she supposed they were. A dying breed. Emasculated by a politically correct

society.

Great. Now that she’d figured out what she wanted in a man, she was going

to discover there was no such animal.

She clicked until her finger was numb. Read well into the night, her eyes

glued to both the fascinating and the downright bizarre. Honestly, she had no

idea there were so many people out there who shared her desires, and certainly

not so many women. But strangely, it didn’t make her feel any less isolated.

She heaved a sigh as her tired eyes perused yet another listing. Just as she

was ready to give it up for the night, an ad on one of the pages caught her eyes.

She leaned closer. Sydney. The address was Sydney. For an exclusive,

private, members-only club. “Specializing in themes of dominance, b*****e and

a variety of fetishes guaranteed to satisfy even the most discerning palate.”

One of her eyebrows went higher. Thought highly of themselves, apparently.

Intrigued, she clicked on the ad and was transferred to a surprisingly

sophisticated website. Not your average trashy p**n site high on shock value. It was discreet, a website that could host a variety of different businesses.

Subdued colors. Easy on the eyes. No pop-ups or flashing little boxes screaming

that you just won an iPod.

Her pulse fluttered as she read on. Membership was exclusive and only open

to a limited number each year. Security was a high priority, and the “club”

wasn’t a flashy, neon-sign-bearing business in the heart of Houston’s downtown.

Instead, it was a stately home in the northern outskirts of the city. Big wrought-

iron gates. High security fences. No sign advertising what went on behind closed

doors. Basically a meeting place for like-minded individuals.

She shivered. Could it be that easy? Somehow she doubted it. But where else

was she going to start her search? Her cursor hovered over the telephone number

listed on the site. She reached for the cordless phone she kept by the computer

and punched the On button.

For several long seconds, she listened to the dial tone. When it started its

obnoxious loud beeping to let her know it was still on and she wasn’t dialing,

she turned it off and stared at the computer monitor.

Then she turned the phone back on. And off. And on. Cripes. What could

possibly be so bad about calling the place? It wasn’t like they could reach

through the phone, snatch her bald and leave her tied up and naked on the floor.

Though, if the guy were hot enough, she might be up for it.

She touched the phone to her forehead and closed her eyes. Just do it, Jenly.

You just want information. They don’t even have to know your name.

Taking a deep breath, she punched the On button and quickly dialed the

series of numbers. She put the phone to her ear and squeezed her eyes shut in

dread. Maybe they wouldn’t answer.

Her stomach gave a painful lurch when a smooth male voice offered a

greeting.

“Hello?” he said again when she didn’t respond right away.

“Uh, hello,” she offered, barely able to squeeze the words from her lips. “I

was calling for some information. I mean, I saw your club, er uh, your

establishment on the internet. “What’s your name?” the man asked cheerfully.

Damn. She guessed they would know her name after all.

“It’s Jenly,” she said, not volunteering her last.

“Hi, Jenly. My name is Nichol, and I’ll be happy to answer whatever

questions you may have.”

She relaxed a teeny bit. “Well, the thing is, you see, I’m not sure what

questions to ask.”

“Ah. Okay then let me ask you a question.”

“Oh. Okay. I guess.”

“What is it you hope to find at our establishment?”

“Not much of a loaded question,” she muttered.

Nichol chuckled. “Don’t be shy, Jenly. There isn’t anything you could

possibly say that would shock me. Or make me judge you. I can’t help you if

you aren’t honest with me.”

Her mouth went dry. Moment of truth. How to tell a complete stranger what

it was she was looking for when she wasn’t completely sure herself?

“I want…” She sucked in another deep breath and started over. “I want a

man to take control. Take. Not ask. In all aspects. Not just sexually.” She broke

off, but still Nichol waited, as if sensing she wasn’t yet done. “I want to be

taken care of,” she finished softly.

“You want to be dominated.”

The word still made her uncomfortable, but in essence, that was precisely

what she wanted. So she muttered a low agreement.

“There’s no reason to feel shame for your desires,” Nichol said gently. “A

woman who knows who she is and what she wants is the most beautiful of

creatures.