“He’s earned himself a huge tip,” Kim muttered.

The man set the suitcases on the two coffee tables, gave the gathering a slight bow, and left without saying a word.

“All right, Mistresses, here you go.” Rainie opened the cases with a flourish.

Linda’s mouth dropped open. Foam padding lined one suitcase and had been cut out to hold…dildos. Vibrators. She turned her head. The other case held colorful spray bottles and tubes, a couple of crops, a few cuffs, blindfolds… She stared at Rainie. “You have suitcases of sex toys?”

The trainee laughed so hard her breasts jiggled. “I spend all day surrounded by men. Hosting these parties lets me hang out with women.” She raised her voice. “Check it out, ladies. I set it up, so if you decide you just have to own something tonight, I can do that.”

As Sally, Uzuri, and Dara whooped and converged on the toys, Linda sagged back in her couch. “I need a drink.”

Before the words were out of her mouth, Gabi thumped two pitchers down. “Margaritas, anyone?”

The evening passed in a blur of gossip, intriguing tidbits of life at home with a Dom, playing the Domme game that Gabi and Sally had invented, and checking out Rainie’s stock of toys. By the time the first pitchers were gone, half the places in the suitcases were empty. Clever Rainie had brought along brown paper bags to hold their purchases.

It had only taken two margaritas before Linda caved in. A vibrator for the G-spot. How could she resist? And then she won a prize she never intended to use but no one would trade with her. She’d definitely make sure Sam never saw that one.

Frowning, Kari sank onto the couch next to Linda and dubiously examined her own prize. A cock ring.

“Problems?” Rainie asked.

“Aside from talking Dan into letting me near his guy parts with this?” Kari looked over ruefully. “The main problem is finding the energy. Zane is teething, Dan is putting in overtime because of some creepy rapist, and all too often I’d rather sleep than mess around.”

Remembering the sleep-deprived, zombie world of new motherhood, Linda patted her hand. “Once Zane is older, you’ll catch up on sleep. And if you want a babysitter so you can…play…out of hearing range, well, I love babies.”

Kari hugged Linda. “You’re so nice. Thank you. We’ll take you up on that.” She fingered the cock ring and grinned. “I’m dying to see Dan’s face when I pull this out—let alone when I try to get it on him.”

Dan was the cop, wasn’t he? Gorgeous but awfully stern looking. Poor Kari. Linda smothered a laugh, trying to imagine talking Sam into cooperating.

“Kari, it’s time for the next competition,” Kim called.

“Right.” Kari checked the clipboard on the end table. “Linda and Jessica, your attention, please.” Sweet-faced Kari sounded exactly like the schoolteacher she was.

“Yes, Mistress.” Jessica saluted. “Our assignment?”

Kari handed each of them a paddle. “Go downstairs, find a man, get him to bend over, then give him three good swats.”

Linda stared. “Seriously?”

“The first to swat wins.” From her chair by the railing, Kim raised her glass in a toast. “But the loser still has to paddle a guy, or else you’ll receive the swats from us up here.”

Jessica scowled. “How come Andrea and Dara got off easy? Getting a guy to unzip and show if he’s wearing tighty-whities or boxers isn’t that difficult.”

“Luck of the draw, girlfriend,” Gabi said, no sympathy in her voice. “Go.”

As Linda stood, she could feel the alcohol buzzing in her veins. Champagne, then…margaritas. Note to self: slow down on the consumption. She glanced at Jessica, who was in the same condition. Not…quite…drunk. “We can do this.”

Jessica gave her a shoulder bump. “You bet.”

At the top step, Linda paused.

Jessica stopped behind her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m summoning my inner Domme.”

“I don’t think I have one of those, inner or outer. I’m an accountant. I don’t boss people around. Well, unless they’re missing paperwork.”

“There you go.” Linda grinned. “Ever had someone dump a shoebox of receipts on your desk just before tax day?”

Jessica’s expression changed completely. “Oh, have I.” Her mouth firmed and her back straightened as they walked down the steps. “How about you?”

“Any mother who’s survived teenagers has developed some Domme.” Linda reached for a memory to put her in the right frame of mind. Maybe Charles’s sixteenth birthday party when she’d discovered a boy had smuggled in a bottle of tequila. Yeah, she’d definitely gone Domme all over that youngster’s head. Maintain that attitude.

They reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Here we go,” Jessica muttered.

“May the best woman win,” Linda said. She headed to the left; Jessica went right.

Men lined the bar, watching the dance floor, checking out the women. Very few were her age, but for her assignment, a younger man would be easier.

Not the one in a suit. Not the skinny lad who looked barely twenty-one. Not the jock. Not…

When an older man’s gaze swept over her, then focused sharply, she got a bit of the squirmy little mouse feeling that Sam’s Dom look could induce. Could the guy tell she was submissive?

And wouldn’t Sam have a fit if he saw her in Domme gear, wielding a paddle?

With a huff of amusement, she turned away to check the nearby tables. Not the obnoxious drunk. Not the geek. Then she saw a candidate standing at a tall table. His gaze lingered on her tight shirt, well enhanced with cleavage. Mistress L for Lethal, that’s me.

He looked midtwenties. A trim mustache. Light brown frohawk. Jeans and an All American Rejects T-shirt.

Wish me luck; I’m going in. She approached his table. “What’s your name, boy?”

His eyes widened. “Jeremy.” He swallowed as she stepped into his space. “You look…wow.”

“Yes, I do.” She gave him an assured head tilt. “I want you to bend over.”

He stared into her eyes as if mesmerized. “What?” She could actually see him shiver.

“Present that pretty ass to me, boy.” Her voice took on a familiar-sounding growl. Don’t think about Sam. “Now.”

To her surprise, he did just that. Seriously? Without letting herself hesitate, she swatted him. One. Two. The third got a grunt from him. Cheers came from the bar, and Linda heard screams and applause from her crew above.

“What a good boy.” Trying not to burst into laughter, she waited for him to straighten, gave him a firm kiss on the lips, then started to walk away.

“No, no. Wait.” He was following her.

What in the world? She stopped.

He held his hand out. “Kneel—am I supposed to kneel? Can I give you my number? Will you call me? Please?”

Oh, dear heavens, someone just found his inner submissive. She patted his cheek. “I’m afraid I’m taken, sweetie. But I’m sure you can find a nice Mistress.”

From the look in his eyes, he’d be doing just that. She knew the feeling. Pretending to be a Top left her craving Sam’s dominance.

On the stairs, she spotted Jessica near the dance floor, trying to convince a man to bend over. When Linda wiggled her hips in a victory dance, the little blonde sent her a sizzling glare.

The women on the balcony greeted her with laughter and high fives. Dara slapped her back, and Rainie handed her a prize of lubricant, saying, “Gabi said you should have this flavor.”

“Orange?” Linda took it. Why orange?

On the couch, Kim hadn’t stopped laughing. She finally hauled in a breath and pointed at Linda. “Your expression when that puppy tried to follow you?”

Shaking her head, Linda sank down next to her. “I felt guilty, leading the poor baby on.” She picked up her drink and took a couple of good swallows, savoring the underlying bite of tequila. “It was amazing he couldn’t tell I was pretending. Bet a Dom would see right through the act.” Sam would have.

“When I met Dan, I told him I wasn’t submissive.” In the adjacent chair, Kari wrinkled her nose. “He laughed at me.”

“It’s nice when a guy sees who you are.” Sally leaned back against the railing. “When I’m dating vanilla guys, I feel like I have to pretend to be someone I’m not. Gets to me.”

“Yeah,” Linda said under her breath. Letting Lee go had been the right decision.

And Sam? Sam definitely saw her for who she was…and liked her that way.

* * * *

The chauffeur was hauling people home in two batches. The ones who wanted an early night left on the first run. The last few remained, waiting for the chauffer to return for them. Linda, Sally, Jessica, Gabi, and Kim. After getting more margaritas—strawberry, this time—they’d pushed the two couches over to the railing so they could crowd together and watch the dance floor.

Sitting between Gabi and Kim, Linda sipped her tangy, sweet drink. How many had she had now? She felt nicely blurry and very happy. It was wonderful to be with women again. I miss my girlfriends.