A Dom's Decision Read online

  "Well…" he began before she butted in.

  "Ach, you'd think I came up the Clyde on a…" She colored and broke off mid-sentence. "What a wally."

  He laughed, her confusion appealing to his better senses. "It's not that bad if you don't expect it to be looked at properly. But we take care here. You'd need to produce your passport, birth certificate, and a doctor's certificate to get in if you weren't recommended, and it wasn't an open evening. Look, Delia…"

  "Seonagh," she interrupted him. "Seonagh McMath." She straightened, and Athol realized she might not be over twenty-five, but she wasn't anywhere near as young as she looked. Then she grinned, just like…

  Spots flashed in front of his eyes and there was a roaring noise in his ears. Coincidence? McMath wasn't too uncommon a name, was it? Was this a put up? Had Dineen remembered something else and gone about telling him this way? If he were a sadist, he'd get the truth out of Donny's sister if it took handcuffs and a flogger. As he wasn't, Athol reckoned he'd try guile and sheer orneriness with the young woman in front of him first, then chat up Donny to get to Dineen if need be.

  "So, you're not a Delia then?" he managed to say in a reasonably level tone. It figured, she hadn't registered she was being spoken to immediately.

  She shook her head. "Nah, I just thought it sounded better. Which is daft, cos I sure do love my name. I was called after my mum's granny."

  He'd guessed that. "And your mum and dad?" He didn't ask why she thought she'd find her father around the club, as it was too close to home. Athol wasn't sure he'd want to hear the answer even though he knew he could tell her she was mistaken. Why would she doubt him? If she wondered why he was asking, she didn't mention it. Seonagh plonked her elbow on the reception desk, and grinned. "Thank god I didna get their names. Poor mum, she's Alexina Albertina. Sina for short, and dad was Affric. Who the hell would call a child any of those, eh? Named after a Glen or sommat. Still better than Coe I guess. But who, eh?"

  Yeah, well, you'd be surprised. Oh fuck, shite, and bloody hellfire. It couldn't be true. Please, any god who's listening, not that.

  "Well, Seonagh, I think your mum will want you home, and I have work to do." Athol did his best to sound businesslike, which wasn't easy. His mind was whirling, and his skin felt clammy. The hair color had thrown him off track at first, but he was damned sure he was on track now. Thank goodness he wasn't expected to demonstrate that night, or he'd be rubbish. He was hard pressed to think about anything, let alone concentrate on showing how a good Dom behaved. "Now, a taxi?"

  She took a deep breath. "Nah, no taxi, ta. It's a bugger, I really need answers to some questions and mum's about as approachable as a tiger with PMT about my dad at the moment. But see, someone sent a letter to her, only it was just addressed to S. McMath, and as hers are usually A. McMath, I opened it." She paused, took a bottle of water out of her shoulder bag and took a swig. "Want some?"

  Athol shook his head. He was beginning to get annoyed. His stomach was full of spiders crawling all over and he really hated arachnids. So, he wasn't pissed with Seonagh, but with the unknown letter writer who was playing with peoples’ lives. "No thanks…so you were saying…?" He prompted her to continue.

  She recapped the bottle and put it away. Athol reminded himself not to sound like the Spanish Inquisition, and not come over too forceful or Dom like. This wasn't his sub, or a class in subbing. This was just Athol, being nosy.

  "Well, this bloody thing wasn't even signed, but it had a picture of this club, and a typewritten note saying that if she wanted to track my dad down, here was a good place to start. I was gob smacked, cos mum had said he was not in the country. That he didn't know anything about me, because she'd never told him she was pregnant. Anyway, she's out tonight at a thing for work, and after hearing the lads at college talking, I thought I'd come and see." She sighed. "Just to have a look round and ask a few questions. I sort of checked the postmark on the letter as best I could and it was Dundee. No idea where, apart from that, or even how they found mum. Oh, f…er, darn, it wasn't a good idea … was it?"

  "No, hon, it wasn't." The outer door opened with a squeak, and Athol looked up at the two women who entered. He shook his head in a swift warning as the taller one looked from Seonagh to him and back again. Her eyes widened, and she turned to her companion. "Lizzie, if you're serious about eating before you start your shift at the hospital, can you put the kettle on for me, please? I'll grab a coffee with you before you leave."

  "Sure thing," Lizzie, sub to Fiona—who now stood next to Athol—smiled as she walked past. He knew she'd ask questions and get answers later.

  "Fiona, if Lizzie hasn't anywhere special to get to in a hurry, do you think she could help this young lady get a taxi?" Athol signaled 'please' with his eyes. "She mistook what sort of club we were."

  Seonagh rolled her eyes. "No I didn't, but this guy sussed me out. He's cool. See, I'm looking for my dad, and I got a message to look here." She shrugged. "Guess it was some asshole trying to be clever. Thank god I got it, and not mum, or she'd freak. Well, she'll freak anyway if she realizes someone's saying she's kinky. She's an R. S. teacher. R. S., Religious Studies," she said when she noticed Lizzie's blank look. "So not her scene. And, no sweat about getting home, cos I can drive, no problems."

  "Definitely no problems," Fiona said. "The Master has spoken. I'm a nurse, on nights, so I have time to spare. Where do you live?"

  Athol felt he was the biggest idiot ever. Why didn't he think to ask that?

  "A wee village just out of town, but I've got my car in the car park outside. Honestly, this was on impulse, and I should know better." Seonagh grimaced. "By god, it's a lesson learned."

  "How old are you, then?" Athol had to ask. "You look about fourteen at the most."

  Seonagh giggled. "Yeah, mum says I'll be thankful to look younger than my age in years to come. I'm almost nineteen and at St Andrew’s Uni, doing Geography. Evidently that's where mum met dad. I love it and St A's is a blast."

  Athol nodded, as he'd gone there himself.

  "Hey, I'm sorry to have been such a pain." She chattered on, and didn't seem to notice how still he'd become. Athol was thankful for that. He couldn't get his tongue to work, and his mind was scrambled. Information overload. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Fiona back away, walk across the room and through the door to the employees’ lounge. She had obviously decided they needed privacy. He hoped no one would decide it was time to enter the club.

  "You okay? You've gone a funny shade of yuk," Seonagh asked, concern uppermost in her voice.

  He cleared his throat. "Fine, just got a bit of a headache, and yeah … as a macho man, I don't admit it until I decide I'm dying."

  She giggled as he meant her to.

  "Oh shoot, my grandpa's like that. I have to force the paracetamol on him. So, anyway, I really thought I was going to see my dad here, or at least learn a bit about him. That bloody evil letter writer said if mum wanted to know what really happened she needed to come and find out. Well, I wasn't going to let her go through everything for bugger all, so thought I'd suss it out first. I honestly didn't think what might happen if I got in, or if I did find him. I mean, okay, it's great for some people, and who knows what I might like later on, but when you asked if I wanted my ass the color of the cushion? All I could think was ‘not unless you want a Glasgow kiss, your nose behind your ears, and your balls rearranged to fit under your armpits’. Then I thought, was that why my mum and dad split, cos she didn't or he didn't? Grr, that fucking, oh sorry, mum goes crazy if I use the f word, that damned letter writer was trying to f, er stir things up."

  Athol had to agree with her there. He wondered if he could get a glimpse of the letter.

  "Do you have it with you, the letter?"

  Seonagh grinned. "Duh, here you are. Well, this is a copy. You can keep it as it's talking about this place. Well, you can if you promise to tell me if you find out anything." She waved it just above his head. "I mean, I've read about
the safe, sane and consensual stuff, and who am I to judge? Lots of people hate a certain teeth-rotting fizzy drink, me included, but my best mate drinks it by the gallon. Each to their own, but..." She broke off and looked from Athol to the letter. "Up to you."

  "Who's the Dom here?" He couldn't help but admire her sass. She'd give anyone a run for the money once she was older. Older? Hell, who was he kidding, she was nineteen going on thirty. "Honey, you're skating on thin ice, be you a member or not." He forgot to whom he was talking. "Hand it over."

  Seonagh looked at him in a very adult and considered manner. "It seems you might be."

  Might be? Shit, I'm losing my grip. Her feisty attitude tickled him, and he grinned.

  "Hey, honey, don't tell anyone I only might be, or you'll lose me all my Dom-cred. Let me keep my reputation intact."

  She laughed.

  "Oh my, brought down and de-Dommed by a teen." He shook his head. "At my age as well. Okay, please, and I will do my best to keep you up to date if I find anything out."

  "I'll believe you, but you better." She gave him the sheet of paper. "And my email is across the bottom."

  She really didn't mind tweaking the tiger–or Dom's—tail. Athol had to admire her determination.

  He looked down and smiled. Professional and clear, it was her name and email provider.

  "All I have to go on is a grainy old black and white photo and what mum told me," Seonagh said. "She loved him. He couldn't be what she wanted, and so they parted before she realized she was pregnant. Oh sheesh, it sounds like a cheesy romance novel, doesn't it? The sort everyone rolls their eyes at and says 'too far fetched'. But honestly, as far as I know, it's all true. She did say Dad was bi, and she wasn't sure she could cope with it, not then anyway. These days, I reckon she wished she hadn't been so hasty, and now it's all too late. Mum said dad went abroad, and she's never heard from him again. Now, this email tries to hint differently." She rubbed her eyes again and sniffed. Athol passed her a tissue.

  Seonagh blew her nose. "Ta. Anyway, that’s all I know, and I reckon it's the gospel. The one thing mum has always been with me is straight. Oh shite, maybe not the best expression to use, but I don't mean it like …I mean you are…Seonagh, take your feet out of your mouth and zip it."

  Athol couldn't help laughing out loud. He knew exactly what she meant.

  "Oh, stop it. I'm sorry, but mum says I get that from dad. Feet in mouth disease. Right, to continue. Except now there's one bit I'm not so sure about. That's the abroad bit."

  Chapter Two

  Edan Murdoch moved back from the keyboard and stretched his arms high above his head to untangle the kinks in his shoulders. He pulled the thin strip of leather from his ponytail and wondered for the umpteenth time if he should grow up and cut his hair. Left loose, it fell over his shoulders in a waterfall of black curls, and got him more than enough sly comments and references to dark-haired cherubs and dodgy rock stars. But then if he kept it short, it became a tight mass of twists and knots. It was the thought of how long it took to detangle that made his mind up––he'd leave it as it was, with the odd trim by his friendly neighborhood barber. At least kept longer, he could get a brush through it. Edan rolled his shoulders and put the thong in his desk drawer for the following morning. It had been a long day, a long week even, and all he wanted was to go home, pour a glass of Merlot and chill. Well, not all, he amended silently, he'd prefer a hot bod—one specific hot bod, even—beside him, but that was likely as a midge-free summer on the West Coast.

  One more report and he'd leave. As it was, Absinthe the cat would give him the cold shoulder. Edan chuckled to himself. How stereotypical was he? Gay, on his own, and with a cat for a companion. And anyone who said cats were self-contained and no trouble had never met Absinthe. That cat could make her thoughts and needs known with one meow and a glare.

  The knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He pressed keys, making an 'sssssssss' row across the report, and swore. Who on earth would be around at—he glanced at his watch—shit, nearly nine o'clock at night. Where had the time gone?

  "Yeah?" He pushed up his glasses, and rubbed his face. God, he was tired. "Come in."

  The door opened and Athol walked in. His tiredness dropped away like an old washcloth.

  "Fuck me."

  The newcomer nodded. "Yes please, here or do you have somewhere else in mind?"

  Edan laughed. "Well, that's the rub, isn't it? You ready for a little subbing yet?"

  "In your dreams, mate. I'm the Dom."

  Edan nodded. That was the sticking point and always had been. "Yeah, and so am I. So there we have it. Or don't, as the case may be. Why are you here? I'm sure it's not just to tell me you're not prepared to negotiate."

  Athol shrugged. "You know it's not. But we have a problem. Or rather, I think I do. You're just a not so innocent bystander."

  His words made Edan grin. "Innocent never was comparable with you or me, mate. Ah, Athol. Bloody hell, I've missed you." He walked around the desk and grabbed Athol and pulled him into a big hug. It was returned with fervor, and he was damned sure he got a swift kiss on the neck as well. "Not just in bed." He stopped talking, scared he'd said too much. Athol didn't answer. He looked unhappy, and Edan wished he could retract his words. "Dammit, in other things as well. Someone to laugh with, to share the ups and downs, and someone to high-five when everything works out."

  Athol grimaced. Edan realized more than ever this wasn't just a social call. Here was one of the two people in the world he truly loved, one whom he hadn't seen for over five years, and his feelings were as strong as ever. And, typical, it seemed nothing had changed. For years they'd met up, chatted, argued, and gone their separate ways. The last few years they hadn't even done that. He had never told Athol where he lived, what he was doing, or how miserable he'd been. Just sat and agonized through those few hours they'd spared for each other. Why the hell couldn't he give in, just a little bit? If Athol were prepared to switch, Edan would do so gladly. But he wasn't going to be the only one, not any more.

  "Maybe one day," Athol said slowly. "Once we've sorted this crap out. Life as a lonely Dom ain't all it's cracked up to be. Not when everyone around you is loved up and pairing up. Well, nearly everyone," he said. "I can think of a few who need help. I had a blast from the past at the club last night."

  "Club? I thought you were a psychologist."

  "God almighty, have you forgotten all our late-night sessions, not the sex ones but the angst ones? Psychiatrist, Edan, watch my lips." He repeated the word.

  Edan couldn't help it. He punched his friend's shoulder and grinned. "Works every time, sucker. Okay, chill. What club and why?"

  "Dommissima, because I want to."

  Edan whistled. He'd heard about that. One of the premier and exclusive BDSM clubs in the country. "Playing with the big boys, eh?"

  "Oh, hon, you better believe it." Athol dropped his wrist, rolled his eyes and snorted. "And get it right, I am one of the big boys, almost. Ah, Edan, I've fucking missed you. Why did we cock it up?"

  "Because we didn't. Cock it up." Edan qualified his statement. "Maybe if we had, both of us, life would have been a lot simpler. Okay, not simpler but better, who knows. It's water under the bridge. Shit, listen to me, ‘idiom central’ for fuck's sake. Anyway, fill me in, or not."

  "Enough of the double entendres, eh?" Athol's expression was somber. "Intended or not. Look, can we go for a pint or a curry or something? Being back at uni gives me hives. Horny undergrads and hungry lecturers, means a hassled me ... God, am I ever glad I chose not to teach." Athol licked his lips and the gesture sent an eager message to Edan's groin. His cock noted it and hardened in appreciation.

  "Yeah, there's a new curry place opened near the gut-wrencher we used to use. It won't give you Delhi Belly but might make you want more. It's run by Ashok and Ephraim, those two guys who were in our History lectures," Edan reminded Athol. "They decided to leave academia for that, and thank goodness, as it's bloody marve
lous. Their fish curry is almost to go straight for."

  Athol grinned as Edan meant him to. It was hard enough coping with Athol there in the flesh and worrying what was wrong without giving him food poisoning. Edan logged out of his computer and grabbed his leather jacket from the hook on the door.

  "Let's hope it's not two for one student night, then. My blast from the past might be blasting not many minutes from here. She's an undergrad."

  Edan looked confused at Athol's statement. "She? What the fuck are you on about? What blast?" Athol put one long finger over Edan's mouth.

  "Hush."

  Edan didn't do as he wanted, and drag the finger into his mouth. The cloud of worry in Athol's eyes, and the slight tremor that ran through the digit stopped him. This was neither the time nor the place to start a ‘will we, wont we’ bout of sex. Especially if it ended in tears. He wasn't sure he had his big boy boxers on.

  "I'll explain all I know later," Athol said. "It's too much to rush."

  Edan nodded. "All set, then. Shall we walk, as it's only five minutes?" The town wasn't that big.

  "Yeah, I've left my car near the cinema. I wasn't sure where, or even if I'd find you, to be honest." Athol waited until Edan had locked the door and walked next to him down the corridor. "This was my first choice. I thought you might work late at this time of the year." He didn't say how he knew Edan was still working at the uni, and Edan decided not to ask. It was easy enough to check the staff lists if you were interested. He had a brief flare of hope that maybe Athol had been keeping tabs on him. He had to admit that after the first year or so, when they'd agree to disagree, he'd forced himself not to search the net for Athol's name, in case he found out Athol was settled down with someone who could be everything he wanted. That thought was enough to bring him out in a sweat, and not in a happy, excited, aroused way.

  Edan could smell Athol's scent, the citrus fragrance he had always thought of as all Athol. Once upon a time he'd thought he might wake up and savor that particular perfume each morning, but it didn't happen. Yeah, once upon a time, fairy story maybe, but it wasn't one with a happy ending. Ah well, shit happens. He'd done his best to carve out a good life and successful career. However, Edan wouldn't care to count how often he'd woken up, rolled over, and put his hand out to feel … nothing.