CHAPTER TWELVE
Webb and Cooper sat in the hotel’s main restaurant eating dinner and reading the newspaper. At the top of the sports section was a picture of Webb and Gracie from the mini press conference last night. The headline read: American Hero Mohanty Catches Eye of Lady Coach Luera. Well hell, the way they were looking at each other did give off romantic vibes. Sparks would be more like it.
Not that he minded one bit, but Gracie would pitch a fit. He read the article and agreed with the facts, although the reporter did tend to play up the romantic interest angle. Both Gracie’s career and his were summarized. Speculations were made. The article’s goal was obviously to generate interest in both team’s next season.
“I see you’re paying close attention to the sports page. Hell, they’ve damn near got you two engaged.”
Webb stared at Cooper over the glass of iced tea he’d brought to his lips. “Give me time, man. I’ve got to convince her.”
Cooper leaned across the table to him, the light shining off his head. “If the team’s management finds out—”
“She’s worth it.” He didn’t care if he had just met the woman. His emotions had wrapped around Gracie from the first moment he’d set eyes on her. He’d call bullshit on that thought, but it was true. “She’s special, Coop. As soon as my month of no sex is over, I’m on a plane to her.”
Cooper exhaled a low whistle. “Is she submissive? ʼCause it’ll never last if she’s not.” His lips thinned. “Believe me, I know that from experience.”
“She’s had some bad experiences. I intend to educate her properly in the lifestyle.” Webb hadn’t liked how she’d looked when she talked about her previous experiences with “bad boys,” as she called them. Yes, he bore the moniker, too, but he’d never abused a woman. If he were honest, he battered himself.
He’d seen too much as a SEAL. Done too much. Lost too many brothers-in-arms. His best moment had been rescuing the senator’s son from the Russians. There’d been a pure purpose in that mission. He needed to get his mind off wars and missions.
“Coop, you said you were a patient of Dr. Paul’s, too.”
“Yeah. Took me six months to get my head on straight about some shit I’d kept buried for a long time. Then there was losing Wanda. Break-ups can be hell. You haven’t talked about your sessions today. How did they go?”
Webb leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Draining. I had three sessions with an hour break between each one. Dr. Paul ordered me to walk and think during my down hours. Hell, I’m an action figure, not an intellectual.”
Cooper chuckled. “I feel ya, man. That shit ain’t easy.” He ran a hand across the back of his neck. “Scraping boils of pain off your soul. That process hurts like hell.”
Webb couldn’t have described the method any better. “I agree and this was only my first day.” While he understood pre-season practice meant a hurried, intense time with the shrink, reality was certainly different than he’d expected. He felt as if his mind and emotions had been dumped into a blender and put on turbo blast.
The team’s medical squad had granted him a month for therapy. Hell, a month like today and he’d either be freaking insane from all the dredged up memories or totally numb, unable to talk. He had to be more positive about this whole thing. Time to stop being a wuss. Hell, ripping off a scab always hurt and, Lord knew, he had plenty of scabs.
The waiter whisked away their dirty dishes and asked if they wanted dessert. Both declined. “Just two coffees.”
“Have you been seeing anyone since your breakup with Wanda?”
“Nah,” Cooper replied. “Only at the clubs. I belong to two. Nothing as elite as we’re going to tonight. I’m thinking I’ll just check the place out, unless a particular unattached sub appeals to me. What about you?”
The waiter had returned with their coffees and Webb added a splash of cream to his. “I never thought I’d say this, but I doubt I’ll see anyone who stirs me up the way Gracie does. I’d almost feel as if I was cheating if I did. Which is asinine, considering we just met. Damn, she just pulled me right in.” If Coop wasn’t another Dom, he’d never be this open with him. But the man would understand his thought process.
Cooper added four sugars to his cup and stirred. “Is she into you as much as you are her?”
“I don’t think so. She pushes me away and we argue a lot.”
“Ah, sexual tension.” Coop nodded. “Nothing like it. Especially when you’re in charge.”
Webb grinned. “It always seems to work out that way. The woman is definitely special. Intelligent, interesting, opinionated, and sexy as fuck. Hard as nails, yet soft as silk.” Damn, he was getting hard just talking about her.
“I’ve been thinking of getting my own sub. No more vanilla women for me.” Coop sighed. “Relationships with deep feelings can really hurt a guy.”
“I imagine you’ll be careful in choosing a sub.”
“Shy as a motherfucker,” he laughed. “I miss the connection with one person, you feel me? A closeness. I want to see a woman’s face light up when she sees me.” Cooper pointed to the paper. “Like the coach’s did in that picture when she looked at you.”
Webb glanced at the paper. He’d take it along and cut out the picture to frame. They only had a few more days and nights together. A lot of that time would be taken up with his therapy sessions. He hoped they could have repeat times together like today. Damn, seeing her off at the airport would be tough.
“I think I’ll sit back tonight at the club and pick out potential subs for you, Coop.”
“Well, I appreciate the thought. But if I know the boss, he’ll have someone keeping an eye on you to make sure you take advantage of your last night of sexual freedom. So latch onto a sub. Show Gabe you appreciate his thoughtfulness. You don’t have to take her to one of the private rooms or even scene with her. Just pay her some attention.”
****
“Bethany! I can’t walk out there in front of all those men wearing this thing. What possessed you to choose something like this for me?” Gracie slowly turned in front of the golden framed mirror. Black faux leather was all she wore and there was very little of that.
“Relax. You’ll fit right in.”
“Seriously?” Gracie’s fingers pointed back to what she wore. The ebony fake leather halter whatever—because she had no clue what to call what she had on—had all her private parts bared. There were two holes edged in silver lame to expose the tips of Gracie’s firm breasts and nipples. An opening at the bottom of what one could loosely refer to as a swimsuit, revealed her bald hootchie and slit all the way back to the humongous opening, that showcased her bare ass.
From one side of the rear opening to the other was a band of rhinestones. A few larger ones followed by a large crystal teardrop hung from the middle and dangled against her crack as she moved.
Really, why wear anything at all?
“Sit.” Bethany pointed to one of the leather loveseats. There were several matching pieces artfully arranged among potted palms and large erotic statues in what was loosely referred to as the locker room.
She complied and slipped on the silvery sheer thigh-highs Bethany handed her and stepped into a pair of silver stilettoes. The butterfly shaped mask her friend brought along for her was encrusted with silver and black spangles.
Oh sure, I can show my nipples and ass, but not my face. This all makes perfect sense.
As soon as Gracie stood and walked toward Bethany, the locker room attendant sprayed the loveseat she’d just vacated and wiped it off. At least the place was kept clean.
“How do I look?” Her friend held her arms out to show off her outfit. She wore red faux leather that crisscrossed under and around her bare breasts. It formed a short skirt in the front that barely covered her bald privates. In the back, bands of fake leather covered her naked backside in a zigzag pattern. A white furry tail protruded at the top of her crack. Her red heels had straps that ran around her legs, tying below her knees. She wore a white furry kitten mask with red spangles around the edges and cute cat ears on top. There were furry cuffs at her wrists.
“You look very kitty-ish.” Silly, but kitty silly.
Bethany turned and flipped her tail. “Yeah, I hope there’s a Dom out there who likes to pet pussies.” She glanced over her shoulder at Gracie and winked. They both laughed.
Still, the moment of brevity didn’t help ease Gracie’s nerves any. Other women in the plush red and gold decorated changing room were squeezing and struggling into their outfits. And they all looked as outrageous as Gracie felt.
Tonight would most definitely be a learning experience. She had to keep her eyes open, ears tuned, and her mind on everything going on in the club. This was purely for book research. And if she had to dress this way, she never wanted to enter another club like this again.
“Here are your bands.” Bethany opened her palm on which lay various colored bracelets. “White means you’re a guest. Pink is for unattached submissive. Pale blue is for spanking, which you signed up for, as well as purple with a white stripe indicating an interest in rope play. Lastly, the gold for vaginal play, the type is up to the Dom.”
Gracie slipped them on one at a time, hesitating at the gold one. Could she have sex with another man after Webb? She was breaking things off with him, but hadn’t officially done it yet. According to what he’d said, they were a couple and she had to admit, she felt the same way even though she knew it would never work between them.
Geesh, was she the kind of woman to accept jewelry and flowers from a guy earlier in the day and screw another one that night? Her stomach twisted with dread. Did she want someone else to touch her?
“I can’t wear the gold one. I don’t want to have sex with a stranger.”
“But, honey, that’s the best part.”
Gracie chewed on her bottom lip. “For you, yes. But I’ve been seeing someone and—”
Bethany threw the gold band in the trash. “Say no more. It’s all good, hon. I understand. Now, follow me and swing that tight ass of yours. The idea is to attract attention.”
Hell, she couldn’t attract more attention if she were zooming through the premises on a skateboard while her ass was on fire.