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“No problem,” Lauren told him and went to
retrieve her clothes and get dressed.

But she couldn’t find her clothes. She was
sure she’d folded them and left them right there on the dresser. Hunting around
the room didn’t produce them either. She even looked under the bed where she
only found a small handful of dust bunnies.

The water shut off in the shower and she
still hadn’t taken the steaks out of the fridge downstairs. Feeling very
self-conscious, she padded down the stairs, glancing through the sidelights
beside the front door to make sure no one could see her, then bolting through
the small hall to the kitchen. Big, sliding glass doors led out to a small deck
and his tiny backyard, but the drapes were pulled mostly closed and Lauren
breathed a sigh of relief.

The summer heat really made clothes
unnecessary, she decided. Then she opened the fridge and the blast of colder
air made her shiver. Working quickly, she slid out the plastic container
holding the marinating steaks and the one holding green peppers and onions that
had been cut up for grilling. She set those on the counter, then, on a hunch,
picked up the large tomato that sat on the shelf beside them before closing the
refrigerator door.

He padded out to her, dressed again in the
same slacks and white shirt. She cocked her hand on her hip and gave him a good
once-over.

“So the Master gets to dress while the
slave girl has to walk around naked?”

John picked up the steaks, heading for the
back door. “Yep. I knew you were a smart woman.” He slid the door shut behind
him.

Lauren opened and closed her mouth. Twice.
There really was no rejoinder to that. She’d asked, he’d answered. Simple as
that.

Of course, the more she thought about it,
the more she liked it. Served as a sort of symbolism, really. Picking up a
bamboo skewer, she slid the vegetables down the shaft, thinking some very
naughty thoughts.

John stopped in the doorway on his way back
in to get the vegetables. Lauren, completely naked and apparently comfortable
with her lack of clothes, stood with her back to him, neatly spearing the
peppers and onions onto their respective shafts. She looked—right. As if she’d
always been there. As if this was the way life was supposed to be.

He liked the feeling of warmth that filled
him, a feeling that had nothing to do with the kinky sex they’d shared all
afternoon.

She hummed to herself as she worked, the
volume too quiet for him to do more than catch the odd note here and there and
he realized she was happy. Had he made her so? His ego would like to think so.
He also knew he’d like to make her happy much more often. She deserved that
after what she’d been through. Hell, he deserved it too.

Before thoughts of his own demons ruined
the mood, John stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind him. She turned
and he loved her profile as much as her rear view. Her breasts, nearly returned
to their normal color, stood out in wonderful relief, the nipples gone soft
with the lack of stimulation and the day’s heat. Well, he could take care of
that.

“I nearly have these done. Are you ready
for them?”

“Yep.” He set down the plate he’d used to
carry the steaks and came up behind her, encircling her with his arms. She
smelled of his soap and shampoo instead of her normal fragrances. While he
missed the spices, he kind of liked her smelling like him. Running his hands
along her belly and hips, he grinned as she tried to skewer the last pepper and
missed.

“Am I bothering your concentration?”

He bent around so he could see her face.
She’d tucked her lip between her teeth and focused intently on the kabob in her
hands. With great determination, she managed to center the skewer and slide the
pepper home.

John took the thin bamboo skewer from her
hand and set it gently on the plate with the others. Keeping her back against
him, he cupped her breasts, feeling her lean into him. She kept her hands on
the counter, making no move to prevent him.

“You are being awfully compliant,” he told
her.

“You are being too interesting to stop,”
she murmured back.

For answer, he picked up one of the empty
skewers and twirled it in his fingers. “What I like about BDSM is that
everyday, common items,” being right-handed, he rested the sharp tip against
her left breast, “become greater than themselves when brought into play.”
Gently he pressed the point against the tender skin of her areola until she
gasped. Her hands came up to rest on his, not pushing him away, just following his
movements. Encouraged, he traced around her nipple with it, pleased to see it
rise to his probing.

She sighed and her head fell heavily
against his chest. He could do so much with her right now and forever. But the
wind shifted and wafted the smell of steak through the kitchen. Abruptly he
dropped his hands, slid one hand against her back to push her upright and
picked up the vegetables.

“Hold that thought,” he told her as he
headed out the door.

Lauren’s head reeled. How on earth had he
reduced her to a quivering mass in less than a minute? She’d been sated not
half an hour ago. Sated to the point where she figured she wouldn’t be playing
with her toy at home for at least a week.

And a simple pull against the chest, some
fondling of her boobs, that damn skewer and her pussy was gushing as if it
hadn’t had a cock in years. She picked up the bamboo skewer and eyed it
thoughtfully.

Shaking her head, Lauren gathered herself
and set the kitchen table. Through the opening in the drapes over the sliding
glass doors she could see him out on the deck, flipping one of the steaks up
onto the warmer. He looked so…normal. Nothing in his demeanor to show he could
melt her into butter with just a touch.

She watched for several minutes, enjoying
the way he moved, how he shifted his weight from one side to the other, his
back always military-straight, even when relaxed. You could spot a soldier by
just the way he stood. Something about posture the boys learned early and
carried with them into manhood set them apart and made them special.

Being sure to keep the drapes between her
and any neighbors who might be looking this way, Lauren slipped open the door
for John as he brought dinner in.

“Smells wonderful. Did you want something
to drink?” she asked him.

“In the fridge are some sodas. Regular for
me.” He set the plate on the table as Lauren went to the refrigerator and took
out two cans of soda. “Regular for the man of the house,” she announced as she
set the can beside the glass at his place setting, “and diet for me.”

He held out her chair and, feeling a bit
strange sitting down for dinner entirely naked, Lauren took her seat. She
hadn’t been able to find any paper napkins, only the cloth ones in the drawer.
Glad for the extra-large size, she draped the deep-blue material over her lap,
very aware of her nudity.

John, however, didn’t even seem to notice.
He held the plate for her as she took the smaller steak on top along with one
of the skewers of vegetables. Helping himself, he set the plate down before
reaching over and taking her hand.

“This is what it would be like if you ever
should choose to take up a totally BDSM lifestyle. Different couples have
different protocols, everyone works out what works for them.”

He spoke with complete seriousness. Lauren
felt a lump form in her throat and swallowed hard to get rid of it.

“I’m not saying, should we continue, that
we’d ever go twenty-four/seven with the Master and slave idea, but I wanted you
to get a feel for what it would mean. Do you understand?”

Lauren shook her head. “Not entirely. The
whole you-clothed-me-naked thing doesn’t feel extreme. It feels…sexy.”

“Why?”

“Because…” The words weren’t quite there to
express the contentment she felt in this middle-class house with its
middle-class yard and middle-class kitchen, all of which hid something wild and
strange and wonderful. She could be happy here. Saying all that, however, meant
taking a step toward a commitment she didn’t want to force John into.

Finally she just shrugged. “It feels sexy
probably because it’s different. Something new. Novel.”

Something in his eyes changed, became more
reserved. He pulled his hand away and picked up his knife and fork. Had she
missed a moment here?

For a while the conversation remained a
little strained, or at least, Lauren felt it did. He told tales from the
classroom and how he’d always wanted to teach. For her part, Lauren mostly
listened, trying to figure out exactly what made John McAllen tick. Each story
gave her clues, but his intentions toward her remained a mystery.

Then, the meal eaten, John leaned back in
his chair, swirling the last pieces of ice around in the bottom of his glass.
Very little soda remained and he tossed it off as neatly as if it were a shot
of whiskey. She decided to ask the question that had been in the back of her
mind since before dinner.

“John, you said something before that’s
really making me think differently about this.”

He raised an eyebrow and waited.

“What you said about everyday objects
having hidden uses.”

John nodded. “And?”

“It’s everywhere, isn’t it? This house, a
normal house in a normal neighborhood looking pretty much like every other
house on the block. And yet there are whips and chains and wonderful leather
cuffs upstairs in the bedroom. And not just for decoration. What we did this
afternoon…”

“Wasn’t normal?” he supplied when she fell
silent.

“But it was, wasn’t it? Normal. For some
people, BDSM stuff
is
normal.” Lauren shook her head. This wasn’t coming
out right.

“Let me try again. Because BDSM isn’t
considered normal by the general populace, this house hides a secret. Just like
the bamboo kabob skewer holds a secret. Just like I hold a secret.”

He leaned forward, his elbows on the table,
his hand close enough to touch her. And yet it didn’t. “What is your secret,
Lauren?”

“I think all this secrecy…is incredibly
sexy.” She blushed and lowered her voice to make the admission out loud. As a
result, she missed the fleeting smile that dimpled his cheek before he caught
himself.

“So, keeping our sex life private is a
turn-on for you?”

Lauren started to nod, then stopped. “Not
totally private. Beth and Sarah know.”

“As do two friends of mine.”

She grinned at that. “I feel like I’ve been
let into a wonderful secret club. One that I always knew existed, but didn’t
know how to go about entering.”

“Remind me later and I’ll teach you the
secret handshake.”

“There’s a secret handshake?” Lauren looked
surprised and when John laughed she realized she’d been gulled.

“Okay, wise guy. For that, you can wash
dishes.” Standing, she collected the plates as he pushed his chair back.

“I thought I was the one to give the orders
around her.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll dry and put away. You,
however, can get your fingers all wrinkly.”

She set the dishes beside the sink. His
arms went around on either side of her, a glass in each hand. That wonderful
feeling of warmth and protection stole over her again. He lifted her hair to
place a kiss at the nape of her neck and she rolled her eyes as her knees went
weak—again. Damn, but what he could do to her with such simple little touches!

She turned around, her arms going up around
his neck. As she did, she noticed the time on the wall clock and her brow
furrowed. “How on earth did it get to be seven o’clock already?”

“Time flies when you’re having fun?”

“Time doesn’t exist when you’re having
fun’s more like it.” Smiling seductively and pressing her naked body against
the wonderful expanse of his chest, she made a suggestion. “You have a
dishwasher, I see. We could just put these in there and find something else to
do with our time.”

He laughed and kissed her soundly. Her lips
parted as his lips bruised hers, she welcomed the dance of tongues as her
stomach fluttered all over again. Hadn’t they just had an entire afternoon of
sex? How on earth could she be so brazen as to want more?

“I think I awakened a sleeping tiger,” he
said when the kiss ended.

Lauren nodded. “I think you did too.”

“Then perhaps we should just let the dishes
sit right where they are.”

With a flourish, he picked her up and slung
her over his shoulder as if she were a sack of potatoes. She squealed, more in
surprise than protest. How could she protest anything he did to her after
proving himself so many times already?

He didn’t take her upstairs, however. John
stopped in the entranceway and set her down, feet first on the tiled floor. He
made sure she stood steady before he stepped back. “Are you ready to take this
to the next level?”

Lauren studied him, trying to read his
suddenly serious gaze. He’d asked a question but she sensed a challenge
underneath. What the heck, everything had gone so far beyond anything she’d
ever dreamed of. She shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”