Closer and Closer Page 5

  Walt stole another quick glance at this new girl. He gave himself one last fraction of a second to take in her silvery-blond hair, her round cheeks, and even rounder lips. The dips and rises of breast and waist and hip. All of her was in a prim little package that looked like it belonged pressed against an ancient desk or card catalog, hips writhing against his…what does she sound like when she whines for more?

  Out of nowhere, Lucy’s glaring face replaced the distant scene of Claire and this new girl. He’d been standing there, watching like a damn stupid, drunken owl.

  Nice one. Way to leer at the newbie.

  “Wanda, excuse me. When you’re finished eyefucking the babysub, I am speaking to you.”

  With a spike of regret he didn’t care to admit to himself, Walt’s head snapped away from the magnetic stretch of black nylon-clad leg he’d been admiring and refocused on Lu.

  “Just…hang on.” He silenced Madame with a hand and began to step around her. “I’m going to check in with Claire and then I’m going home.”

  “Claire and I wanted to—”

  Walt shouldered past Lucy, focusing instead on Claire’s familiar, warm face. Before he was within speaking distance, a hint of perfume hit him: something deep and…moody? It wasn’t Claire; he would have noticed that warm, spicy-flower scent during the demo. Whatever it was, the blonde’s scent and the sight of her looking slightly panicked as he and Luce came closer hit Walt in the gut.

  “Hey, Wand—”

  He grunted a halfhearted excuse about his arm, shrugging Lucy’s hand from his shoulder. Before he could turn away, Claire eased herself from her stool and made her way to them.

  “I thought you two left,” she said and took Lucy’s hand, leading her right toward Miss Pale and Pearly. Exactly not the direction Walt needed to head. “Come sit with me and have some lemonade.”

  Lemonade? Since when did Claire and Lucy treat TK’s desk like a front veranda at the big house?

  Oh.

  Blond. Alone. New. And Walt, more interested in spending Saturday night with a couple of beers and his dark, cool bedroom, before he was conned into coming down to Charlotte.

  “You’ll get me a cookie, huh? Damn it, Lu.”

  Lucy smirked. “Now who’s fetching the pretty bottoms for who?”

  Walt cocked an eyebrow at Claire, muttering more to himself than his two friends. “Aren’t you two a bit old for the matchmaker shit?” Lucy’s head swiveled around to him first, Claire’s right after.

  “Aren’t you a bit too old to act like a pouty widdle boy?”

  “Oh come on, Wally,” Claire added. She had the nerve to wink at him as she steered him toward the desk. “You’ll like her.”

  Irritated, he let Claire take his hand and lead him, his legs jostling around her much shorter ones. She sidestepped at the last second, leaving him face-to-face with her.

  The pale, pearly, pillowy woman had a name. Claire told him it was Erin. She had to say it twice. Or maybe three times.

  Her real name, not some ridiculous, concocted scene name.

  The last time Claire said it—“This is Erin”—Pale and Pearly offered her hand to him, like the right thing to do was shake hands, like it was Saturday evening at a country club or Sunday morning after church services. Not at all like what was really happening, where they were. At that moment, Walt didn’t care. All he noticed was the satiny sweep of her palm against his, the tiny tremor rippling up her arm as his fingers closed around hers.

  “Hi.” Her cheeks rose when she smiled, so high they pushed the little silver rims of her glasses toward her forehead. Fighting the urge to raise his index finger to the bridge and ease them back into place, he shook her hand again, reminding himself how big he looked to most women, how he had to look harmless to them when they looked up at him so words like hulk didn’t come to mind.

  “This is Ranger,” TK added, coughing—a sad, showy attempt to disguise her devious giggle. Damn her, she was in on it too. “He was the one who did the flogging demo. She saw the demo, right, Lucy?”

  “I think she caught the high points. Right, babysub?” Lucy’s voice sounded like it came from the rim of a well, high overhead.

  The new girl didn’t so much as flinch in Lu’s direction. But she inhaled, deeply, and never took her gaze from his. Her lips circled around her escaping breath, sent as a faint draft of air skimming past his elbow. He tipped his head toward hers politely and forced his eyes away, turning to say something to Luce or look for Tate or at any damned thing but the soft salvation of the first woman he knew on sight he’d wanted—deep down in his bones—in years.

  He’d not let her smooth hand go, which made a getaway a bit of a problem. And when he gave in and let his eyes trail back to hers, she was still looking up at him, flushed and smiling a prim little smile that seemed to surprise her nearly as much as it did him. Lost to his own best instincts, Walt leaned his head toward her ear, inhaling the very same flowered, spiced perfume that drew him to her. Something told him she’d go loose-limbed over it, and because he knew, instinctively and without question he was the only one in the room who could do it to her, he let his voice drop deep and spoke right beside her ear.

  “Hi.”

  Her eyes drowsed at it, but she didn’t move toward him. Instead, she breathed in again, gulping.

  “Hello.” One of them shivered. Both of them noticed, and they chuckled silently over it. “I’m Erin.”

  “So I’ve heard,” he said, grinning down at her.

  “Or…um, Reboot. That’s what I’m supposed to say—Reboot.”

  “Reboot?” In addition to turning him slack-jawed, she’d intrigued him. Most of the girls he encountered these days used a kind of fairy-goddess, windchimes-and-dreamcatchers sort of scene name, or one that made her preferred kinks pretty damn clear. But this?

  “It’s ridiculous, right?” Her shoulders climbed toward her ears and she smiled up at him. “I know. It was the first thing that came to mind when TK asked me. I was at work at the time. I didn’t know what to say and someone might have heard me because we just have cubicles and so…Reboot.”

  The babbling wasn’t put on. That shit was real. She was as nervy over him as he was over her.

  “I like it.”

  “Ranger? Are you an Army Ranger?”

  “Hey,” he said, cocking an eyebrow at her, just to raise the color on her cheeks again. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to ask about the world beyond the front door?”

  “I…oh, God…” She swallowed hard and looked up at him, wincing. The air of her own high expectations and embarrassment, maybe over not getting the scene-speak just right, wafted around her. “I’m sorry, I—”

  Suddenly, it was the time to put on his harmless guy face after all. He held up his hands, shrugging.

  “Don’t worry about it. No harm, no foul.” When the agitated expression didn’t fade from her face, he leaned away from her, humming. “You look pretty trustworthy, anyway. I’m with the forestry service.” And that was general enough if something with this girl went south quick.

  “I’m going to go get some water,” Claire broke in as she stood on her toes and placed a demure kiss on Walt’s cheek. How long had she been there, watching? And Lucy too? Fuck. “Thanks for asking me to be your stunt ass, Wally. It was fun.”

  “Oh…hey—no, Claire, I’ll get your water. Just sit here, talk to your, uh—to Reboot?”

  Claire shook her head, smiling, and pulled away from him. “I’m fine. Really. You know me, Walt, I’m fine. And I will call you later this week,” she told Erin with a quick parting hug.

  He watched after Claire, shaking his head. When she disappeared from sight, he pulled over the stool she’d left and glanced around for the rest of his audience. In the meantime, Lucy, the rascal, had done a vanishing act of her own.

  “So…”

  “A park ranger?” Erin nodded toward him, wide-eyed. “Like Smokey the Bear?”

  Huh? Oh, Ranger. Yeah, like Smoke
y the Bear. “You know, you look harmless, but you’re a bit of a smart ass under there, aren’t you?” He laughed, in spite of himself. It was the oldest joke in a park ranger’s life, but in her voice, for some reason, that didn’t matter. “I’ve never heard that one before.”

  She brightened, and the sassy little smirk said there might be a bit of back talk in her. Just enough to keep things interesting, not full-on bratty like the last girl he’d played with. “Oh, I doubt that. You’ve probably heard the ones about Yogi and Boo-Boo—oh, and Woodsy the Owl too?”

  “Yeah, Luce just called me Ranger Rick tonight. But Woodsy the Owl? Now, that’s an obscure one. Been at least six months since I’ve heard about him. Nice work there, Reboot.”

  “Erin’s fine with me. I can’t keep up with another name.” Her eyelashes dropped to her cheeks when she laughed. All at once, Walt wanted to make that happen again, maybe as much as realizing the fantasy of her he’d worked up as he watched her talking to Claire.

  “Um, should I call you Sir?”

  The word was like a cold curtain of water dropped over his shoulders. Not welcome and soothing, like his earlier cool shower, but abrupt, a big root in the path she’d tripped over. Sir was the very last thing he wanted to hear from this girl. No, this woman. Lady? Not a girl, because he was sick of calling grown women girls and thinking of them as somebody’s property or a friendly piece of ass.

  “No. Not Sir.” He knew he sounded gruff, and regretted it, but she was too new and obviously understood just enough to be dangerous to herself. Some other guy like Paul, preaching his one true path of kink, or a hardass Top like Tommy who’d push her too fast—or worse, one of those designer-suit posers from town—would jump all over her newness and break her because they were too stupid to see just what she was. A surge of protectiveness rose in him. “Don’t say that to someone until he’s earned it.”

  “Right.” Head slanting away from him, Erin closed her eyes. “Right, I knew that.”

  Of course she knew that. Probably read it in four or five books, or worse, saw it on FetLife or some other kink web site. This woman was the eagerest of eager students, the one who memorized the textbook before the first day of class.

  She clamped her eyes shut, raising a deep furrow between her eyes. Something told him self-judgment was this woman’s frequent companion, and though he couldn’t explain it, Walt didn’t like seeing her suddenly consumed by it. He nudged at her knee with his own, grinning.

  “Don’t worry about it. Hey, what about you—what do you do when it’s light outside?”

  “I.T.” Her shoulders squared as her chin rose. “Storage team manager at ThinkMine.”

  ThinkMine was one of the biggest names on the Internet. The company had bought up a big tract of land north of Callahan, not far from the park Walt managed, a couple of years ago. With little notice of the locals, ThinkMine erected a very sterile-looking, bleached-white concrete and glass box, set back from the state highway where it was located. Most of the employees—people like Erin—had been transferred in or brought to southwestern North Carolina for the purpose of running whatever it was that happened in that plain building.

  Erin might have done her research—but she wasn’t acting on it. Walt couldn’t resist pushing her buttons one more time, just to make sure she got it. She’d given up way, way too many real-life details about herself. He just didn’t want to think about why it mattered.

  “Not trying to give you a hard time, but now I know exactly where your office is, and with a little Dick Tracy on my part, I could probably figure out your work number.”

  “You’re right but…well, if I can’t trust Woodsy the Owl, who can I trust?” She laughed, shrugging. “Besides, I know Claire and she speaks well of you, so…”

  “All right, just don’t do that again.”

  Her chin jutted toward him as she gave him the sly eye. “Are you telling me what to do?”

  “No, not like that. But you should be careful.” Even Walt had learned it—too well—after his years in the lifestyle. Clearing his throat, he pushed past another memory of Holly. “Common sense doesn’t go away once you cross the threshold of a play party—or a club like this one.”

  “Hmmm.” She went silent for a minute, her thigh jostling against his as she shifted and glanced around the room again. “Do you have a forest?”

  “A forest? Do I have a forest?”

  “Or a park? A monument you guard or something? Oh, that’s personal,” she said as she prodded her glasses back to the bridge of her nose. “Do you want lemonade? Claire said she made it from scratch. Is that even possible? I know it is, of course, but who actually makes lemonade from scratch? All those lemons.” Her nose wrinkled, and once again her glasses slid down her nose.

  “Claire,” he said, chuckling as he accepted a red Solo cup of her latest concoction. This Reboot…or Erin—her brain hopped around like a frog on hot pavement. “Claire would make it from scratch. She’s like one of those lifestyle mavens from TV—but kinkier.”

  “Or so you assume.” She wagged her eyebrows and sipped from her cup. When she set it aside, her expression had turned thoughtful. “We’re sitting in a sex club and talking about lemonade. This is not how I expected this evening would go.”

  “You had a plan?”

  “No, not at all,” she said, shaking her head vigorously. He did the same as a tease, laughing when she made insistent noises. Finally, she gave in, giggling along with him. “Okay. I may have had a plan.”

  “Uh-huh, I’m not surprised. How’d that work out for you?”

  Erin glanced up at him, her smile softening. “Okay, I suppose? Considering I hate it when things don’t go as I’ve anticipated, I think I’ve handled things pretty well.” Her eyes darted away. “But honestly, I also think I’m ready to go.”

  “I’ll walk you out.”

  She shook her head again, swinging that tempting, glossy ponytail from side to side. “I’ll be fine. There’s no need to—”

  “Hey, it’s expected. Doing demos, being a DM…I’m one of the people who makes sure all of the other people have fun and head home in one piece.”

  “Even if the piece is bruised or has rope burn?” Her lips pursed as she watched him over the rims of her glasses. Resisting the urge to scrub at his face with his hand in frustration, Walt stood, gesturing to the front door.

  “C’mon, we have bad guys in Charlotte too. Let me make sure you get to your car safe, all right?”

  Her expression softened, so much he wondered if he’d said the wrong thing or even worse, the right thing. Without comment, she stepped past him. As they crossed the club’s social area, both remained quiet, settling into their own thoughts. Even after her dodges and feints over being walked to her car, silence with her felt easy. There was no pressure to drum up more chatter just to fill the air between them.

  “I manage a state forest,” Walt said finally as they reached the door.

  “Ah-ha.” Tapping her temple, she nodded proudly. “So that’s why ‘Ranger.’ You chose that name because it means guardian.”

  “Well…” He stared at her for a couple of extra seconds, not bothering to shut his mouth or hide his surprise. “Most people just think—”

  “They think it’s because of Ranger Rick and Smokey the Bear and Yogi and Boo-Boo. Because it’s your job.” She turned, looking up at him as she passed. “But it’s because of more than the forest, isn’t it? It’s more than what you do, it’s who you are.”

  “All of that’s right in a way, I suppose, but—no. Not really. Someone started calling me that a few years back for another reason and it’s sort of stuck.”

  “Hm. Easier to ignore it?”

  “Easier than explaining it.” He reached behind, pushing the door away from him. “Reboot is different. For a girl.”

  “Oh? What do you think is an acceptable woman’s nickname?”

  “Scene name,” he said, grinning again over the lip of his red plastic cup. “Your scene name.
”

  “Fine. Scene name. What is an acceptable woman’s scene name?”

  “You can call yourself hot butter on toast, doesn’t matter to me. Around here a lot of girls seem to like the crunchy business, so there’s fairies and dragonflies and all kinds of femmes and windy this and flowering that. Maybe a dragon if she’s bratty. Every once in a while you’ll run across a sl—um, something more colorful about the girl’s kinks.” Slut? Nice one, dumbass.

  “Colorful?” She laughed, despite the checklist of misogynist horrors she was probably cruising through in her head. He knew his damn ears were reddening by the second, too. “You censored yourself for me, Ranger? Were you going to say slut?”

  “Walt’s fine.”

  “Okay. Walt.” She smiled up at him. “And as I said earlier, Erin’s fine, too.”

  “So, Erin it is.”

  She looked down, slanting her head a little, and went quiet for an extra second or two. “Did it hurt?”

  “Huh?” He glanced around his body and then realization hit. She was looking at his forearm, still striped a bit from the demo. Turning his arm over, he held it out for her. “This?”

  “Yes. From before you flo—before you and Claire? Did it?”

  “Nah…not really. To be honest, I was so keyed up, I don’t remember doing it. It’s not something I’d do. I know how my toys feel before I put them to a bottom. But Paul…well, he likes things a certain way. Top to Top, I respect him letting me play with Claire for the demo, so I go by his rules.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “You mean floggers? Sure. It can.” He leveled his gaze at her, an instinctive need to challenge her overriding good sense. “But it can be good when it does.”

  Walt eased back on the heavy steel door, suddenly interested in his cup of Claire’s homemade lemonade again. No one stirred up so many disparate topics like Erin had done, within only minutes of meeting her.