Servicing the Target (Masters of the Shadowlands #10)(33)

She only got grins back along with a muttered, “Just try it, chickie,” from Olivia.

“There’s no respect left in the world for over-the-hill Mistresses,” Anne said mournfully. Then again, she’d listened to all of their stories, had lent a shoulder for tears, had given advice.

She just wasn’t used to sharing her own.

Military brats made casual friends at the drop of a hat—and learned how much it hurt to lose the close ones. She hadn’t had a girlfriend since she was ten. But she had several now. And friendship was a two-way street, wasn’t it?

She still had to draw in some air before she could speak. “No, I won’t take Ben on. Olivia, you were right. Messing with Z’s guard dog isn’t a smart move.”

“Does he not suit you?” Linda asked in her beautifully melodic voice. “I saw some of your scene and you both looked…complete.”

The sweet remark and the memory of the sheer…rightness…of the scene silenced Anne for a moment.

Kim grinned. “Cullen talked to Raoul about it. He was all worried you’d squish Ben’s balls or something.”

“He was?” Anne winced, the hurt as unexpected as a paper cut. Surely, Cullen knew she’d never give a submissive more than he wanted—and sometimes not even that.

“Ohh, squish the balls. Please!” Sally bounced on the sectional. “You know how Ben’s so picky about our shoes. Almost nothing is good enough, so then you get the growl. ‘Take those shoes off.’ But once Anne finishes torturing his manly bits, he’ll sound like this”—she pitched her voice to a high falsetto—“Take dos shoes oooff.”

As the women broke out in laughter, Anne choked on her drink and grinned. She’d have to tell Ben what Sally had said.

Or not. Distance would be best.

How pitiful that just hearing his name had sped up her pulse. She still remembered the feel of his callused hands caressing her breasts. And wouldn’t she just love to tie him to a cross, so she could run her own hands all over him.

Stop. Now. Stay in the real world, not fantasyland. “You do realize, if a subbie could still talk, I’d feel as if I fell down on the job.”

“Oooh, poor Ben,” Sally said, doing a mime where a speechless Ben motioned to Uzuri to remove her shoes.

Uzuri blinked her imaginary confusion and pretended to hand Ben her thong instead.

Sally gaped and flung the thong from her in mortification.

“Oh, that’s too realistic.” Linda clapped. “Isn’t it cute how poor Ben still becomes embarrassed?”

“He blushes beautifully. I must say, he’s quite the hunk, if you prefer the masculine gender. And, from what I saw when Anne had him, he has a lot to squish.” Olivia’s cupped hands showed poor Ben had watermelon-sized testicles.

Poor Ben had better never hear how the women discussed him or he’d be blushing for a month.

Olivia continued, “I also noticed you didn’t push the pain when you scened with him. Did he make that a hard limit?”

“No.” Anne took a sip and studied the color of her drink. “I just didn’t have any urge to make him scream. I haven’t needed that in a while.”

Silence.

“But you were with Joey, and he’s a total pain-slut.” Sally yelped when Uzuri elbowed her in the ribs.

“You’re being impolite,” Uzuri scolded. Despite being a covert prankster, she was also the most respectful and courteous of the Shadowkittens.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t—”

“It’s all right, Sally,” Anne said. “I’m over Joey.” Although she had to admit his absence had created an aching void in her life. But, no matter how delightful he’d been, Joey’s dependence had become exhausting. “He wanted a full-time Mistress and, as you said, a higher level of pain.”

Olivia tilted her head. “I’ve noticed when your scenes contain more dominance than sadism, you appear most satisfied.”

“If your scenes are changing, are you changing as well?” Linda asked softly.

Changing. The foul word chilled Anne’s skin like the spray from a sleet storm. On the screen, Jennifer Grey was confronting her father for the first time. “Baby” was growing up, becoming a woman. I’m already a woman. Way past all that.

“You know, I really hate that word—change.” Anne’s voice came out thin. Small.

“Oh, Anne.” Linda slid from the couch to sit on Anne’s right, close enough that their shoulders rubbed as she said softly, “The earth is all about change. The seasons move from summer to winter. The continental plates push up mountains that the weather slowly grinds back down. On this planet, in this universe, nothing stands still.”

Change. Just the thought set up a queasiness inside. “Some of us prefer to stay in summer.” She managed a half a smile. “And prefer that our scenes don’t shift under our feet.”

“Sam said part of the power in your scenes came from anger, and you chose slaves who fed off that anger and the pain.” Linda stopped, letting her silence ask the question—is that what changed?

“That’s the problem.” Anne swallowed the rest of her drink, wishing it were alcohol-laden. “I’m not all that angry at men. Not any longer.”