Julie jumped up. “Are you okay?”

Whoever the woman was, she looked beautiful in an ethereal, angelic way. Her blond hair danced around her shoulders in loose waves and her eyes were a warm blue. She spoke animatedly to Julie for several minutes while I checked messages on my phone to give them privacy. The two ladies hugged and turned to me once again.

“Hi, I’m Dena,” the blonde said. “Again, I’m so sorry to crash like this, but I’m traveling the rest of the week and had to speak to Julie.”

I shook her hand. “Abby, and don’t worry about it. I think we were just about finished anyway.”

“No, no, don’t stop because of me. I’m really going. And thank you, Julie. I’ll call you when I’m back in town.”

“Speak soon,” Julie said. “I won’t mention anything to Daniel, but I still think you should tell Jeff.”

My head spun to Dena at Julie’s comment. Jeff? No way, it couldn’t be. The fact that she was blond was just a coincidence. But the look on Dena’s face made me think maybe it was more. Her expression was a copy of the one Jeff had worn just the day before.

“I know I should,” Dena said. “But I can’t. I just … can’t.”

Julie looked just as sad. “Call me.”

The atmosphere had changed when we sat down after Dena left. Julie looked a bit shaken. She picked at the remnant of her blueberry scone.

“Everything okay?” I asked. I didn’t want to pry, but clearly something had upset her.

“Yeah. It goes back to what we were saying earlier. When you lie to yourself, you’re just playacting and it always leads to trouble.” She leaned forward with her head in her hands. “And I told her I wouldn’t tell Daniel.”

I thought that had bad idea written all over it, and even though we weren’t close, I felt I still needed to say something. “It’s none of my business, but I’m going to give you some advice anyway.”

She looked up. “I have a feeling I know what you’re going to say.”

“Then let me say it. I’d be very careful about keeping things from Daniel. It’s a slippery slope you don’t want to start down, because you’ll find you have a hard time working your way back up to the top.”

“I know. You’re right.” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t like it if Daniel kept things from me. But I also gave Dena my word.”

I could almost see the emotions battling inside her as she tried to decide what to do. She sighed and I knew she wasn’t going to tell him. Her decision hung in the air for several long seconds.

“Well,” I finally said. “I can’t leave on a down note, so let me ask one more question.”

“Hit me with it,” she said, and some spark of her previous joviality returned to her eyes.

“Favorite thing Daniel wears in the playroom and you can’t say nothing. We all like our Doms naked.”

She laughed. “How did you know I was going to say that?”

“Because I know what I’d say.” I picked up the notebook and pen. “So? What’s it going to be?”

She leaned back into the chair and crossed her arms. “Give me a second. I have to think. When I tell you, will you tell me what yours is?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, it’s a tough call, but my favorite is when he wears a white dress shirt. I don’t care if it’s part of a suit or if he’s wearing it with jeans. Definitely a white dress shirt.”

I jotted that down. “You know the next question: why?”

“When we’re in the playroom and he’s wearing one and he slowly unbuttons his cuffs”—her voice had a breathy quality to it as she spoke—“his eyes are on mine and he begins to roll the sleeve up. Carefully. Methodically. All the while watching me. To see him preparing for whatever it is he’s going to do makes me all quivery inside. And then once he has it rolled up, you can see just a hint of muscle and you know that within minutes those muscles are going to be put to work for my pleasure?” She sighed. “White dress shirt. No question.”

“Damn, girl,” I said, my pen frozen in place. “That’s about enough to make me want to change my answer.”

“That’s cheating. You have to tell me yours.”

“Okay, fine. It’s his belt.”

“Belt?” she asked, wrinkling her nose. “Why?”

“Because when I’m bent over something and he comes up behind me and I hear the belt slowly slide from his pants, I know what’s coming. Sometimes he’ll have me kiss it and the smell of the leather fills my head as he steps behind me and I hear it whistle through the air.” I shivered just thinking about it. “But it doesn’t stop in the playroom. He’ll wear it the next day to work or out with the family and seeing it around his waist brings back every slap and stroke. His eyes will catch mine and he’ll give me a little smile because he knows exactly what I’m thinking.”