The Secret Life of a Submissive and Bonds of Love: 2-book BDSM Erotica Collection. Sarah K
smiled and said nothing, while glancing across pointedly at Max.
There had to be some upside to the whole don’t-speak-unless-spoken-to rule. I’d brought an overnight bag with me at Max’s insistence but had already said that I would prefer to go home. Mad as it might sound, I’m a bit of a prude, and had a horrible feeling that there was a chance that Georgina’s jolly dinner might degenerate into some kind of kinky swingers party. I wasn’t basing that on anything Max had said or suggested, or on anything I’d seen in the few minutes since we’d arrived; it was just that I’d got no yardstick to judge these things by. Swinging was something I’d read about but had studiously managed to avoid all my adult life. I really don’t mind what other people get up to, but the idea of having casual sex with complete strangers after a couple of glasses of warm Chardonnay was, and is, completely abhorrent to me. Being kinky doesn’t necessarily make you broad-minded.
I didn’t need to worry; Max had taken what I had said to heart. ‘I’m afraid we can’t tonight, Georgina,’ he said, sounding genuinely apologetic. ‘I’ve got a breakfast meeting tomorrow. Another time, though, we’d love to stay over.’ News to me, but face-saving.
‘Oh poop,’ said Georgina, with a wave of a hand that revealed fabulously manicured bright-blue nails. ‘He is such a spoilsport, isn’t he? Next time I’m going to insist that you stay – is that clear?’
Max pulled a face that implied regret and then gave an almost imperceptible nod in my direction.
‘Another time, then, sweetie. And I mean it. Maybe you could come over some time on your own, just the two of you. I’d planned to give you the green room. Barry and I have just given that end of the house a bit of a makeover,’ Georgina was saying. Then she smiled. ‘Feel free to use it while you’re here, if you like, if you want to get changed or powder your nose or anything. Seems a shame not to use it – I’ve had Barry whip the Dyson round. Now, let me introduce you to some people, Sarah.’
I glanced round. There were around a dozen guests besides Max and me. All the men were in dinner suits, the women were dressed up to the nines in evening dresses, cocktail frocks and evening gloves, and all but one were well over forty. The exception was a tall, very slim, red-headed woman who was dressed in a dinner jacket and trousers and smoking a thin brown cigarette in a long holder.
‘Ah, there you are,’ said Georgina, all smiles. ‘This is Anita.’ The redhead moved towards us with the easy grace of a cat, and looked me up and down as though I was lunch.
Georgina raised her very nicely plucked Brooke Shields-style eyebrows. ‘Play nicely, Anita. You remember Max? And this is Sarah. Sarah’s new.’ As if Anita needed telling.
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