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  “Yes.”

  “Straight men?”

  “Yes, Lucy is very committed to the community. She leads about ten groups, women’s and mixed.”

  “Of course she does,” I muttered. “And how did you feel about performing sexually in front of straight men?”

  “I didn’t think about it. I felt proud that Mistress thought I was beautiful enough to show off to her friends.”

  “I see,” I said. “Did she ever have you fuck these men?”

  “No,” Skyler said.

  “Would you have done that if she had asked you?”

  “I suppose,” she said. “I know that when I was with her, I would have done anything for her.”

  “But you are a lesbian, right?”

  She gave me a sly smile.

  “I am a lesbian,” she said.

  “And Mistress?” I asked. “Does she consider herself a lesbian? Or is she pansexual?”

  “No, no, Mistress Sinestra, Lucy, is a lesbian.”

  “And Shelby, the sex slave, is she a lesbian?”

  “Shelby was straight when Lucy picked her up. It used to say straight on her Perv profile, but I guess Mistress had her change the term. Shelby is a lesbian now.”

  “Sure she is,” I said.

  The fire was giving her skin a wickedly irresistible glow.

  “Look at me,” I told her.

  She turned. The light danced in the pupils of her eyes. Reaching out I let my fingers find the back of her head. I fisted several strands of her hair and pulled back, slowly, firmly. I put my face up close to hers. Her hair smelled like wood smoke. Her mouth went slack. Her eyes went soft.

  “You’re a slut,” I said.

  “I am,” she agreed.

  “I’m going to fuck you again, slut,” I told her.

  “Please do.”

  I shook her head, just once, and waited.

  “Sir,” she said. “Please do, Sir.”

  Wynonna

  If Tanika looked good in her clothes, she looks even better out of them, is what I was thinking as we stumbled into my queen bed at the Renaissance Hotel. It was midnight, and we had just polished off a second bottle of Malbec. I was buzzed and not exercising my best judgment, I knew it, but that was just fine with me.

  As it was with Tanika, who I was guessing had not been getting enough, uh, activity lately. She was giggling, as she slipped out of her dress. The material fell like a shot tiger on the gray, loop-pile carpet. She didn’t bother to pick it up. She had already kicked out of her peep-toe pumps and was easing one thin strap of her lacy, push-up bra over a shoulder, looking at me and giggling. Her bra and panties were the color of cinnamon, complimenting her darker skin. The thong followed the bra and dress to the floor.

  “Um a lil tipsy,” Tanika slurred.

  “Tipsy,” I said. “That’s so sweet. You’re sweet.”

  Easing out of my navy blazer pants suit and white silk blouse, my bra and panties, I followed her into the sheets. She lay on her back. I lay down next to her, leaning on an elbow before I slipped one leg over hers. Her skin felt smooth against my thigh.

  “Ah aways liked chu,” she said.

  “I always liked you,” I replied.

  She traced my forehead with her fingers, pushed a strand of hair out of my eyes.

  “Whadahwe gonna do about all this likin’ goin’ on?” she said, garbling the words.

  I started to answer but she put a fingertip to my lips.

  “Shush,” she said.

  She closed her eyes then and kissed me. Her lips felt full and soft, maybe the softest lips I’d ever felt. The last woman I kissed was Brett who kissed me like she owned me. Brett kissed me hard. Tanika kissed me like there was nothing better in the world, like there was nothing she’d rather be doing. I returned the kiss, slipping the tip of my tongue between her lips. I licked her teeth, teased my way around her mouth. She moaned, mumbling ummm.

  Then, suddenly the kissing stopped. Her mouth relaxed. I pulled my head up and looked.

  “Tanika?”

  Her mouth was open slightly, and a little drool was forming on her bottom lip. For some reason that endeared her to me. I turned off the light on the nightstand and pulled the covers to our chins.

  “Good night, lady,” I whispered, but she was already fast asleep.

  Not me. At four o’clock, I was still awake. I have wicked insomnia, some nights worse than others. This was one of them. I got up quietly and fixed a cup in the in-room coffee maker. While it brewed I stood at the window, pulling back the drapes to see the skyline. I could see the golden spire of Bank of America Plaza, glowing in the dark among Atlanta’s high-rises. I saw the SunTrust Plaza and the IBM Tower and the AT&T Building, where Lucy and Shelby worked. The sky was black up high and silver as it eased down to meet the lights of the city.

  Tanika didn’t move. She was snoring in her REM sleep. Pouring my coffee, I added Splenda and took a sip. Ah, better. But something was turning over in my mind. Maybe it was pride, maybe it was something else, but I realized I didn’t want to tell Tanika what I had decided to do. What I’d decided was to investigate Lucy’s disappearance on my own, unofficially, off the books. Tanika would be all over the obvious suspects: Mosby and the Flynns, who were sitting in Atlanta City Jail. I would look at the less obvious ones, including the least suspicious of them all: Brett.

  I wouldn’t tell Tanika the reason why I was doing this. I could hardly admit the reason to myself, but I never really got over being dumped the way I was by Brett. The truth was, with the exception of Daddy Jenna, I was usually the one who left, not the one who gets left. Especially for somebody else.

  Skyler Leppard, the girl Brett dumped me for. I knew I was being petty, but I wanted to know why. What did Skyler have that I didn’t? The best way to do that was to find Lucy, to see her face-to-face. Lucy stole Skyler from Brett, and Skyler took Brett away from me. My only chance to understand why was to find Lucy. And then I’d give this MISPER to Tanika to close. Win-win.

  Beyond that, there was more I needed to understand about my feelings for Brett. Our time together had been cut short by her fixation on Skyler. I felt cheated. Whether we could have been something to each other or not, I would never know until I closed this case.

  And there was one more thing. After my Daddy experience with Jenna, sex with other women hadn’t been the same. Don’t get me wrong, I still enjoyed sex. But vanilla sex had been a little disappointing after the intensity of my D/s with Jenna. I suppose I had been looking for my next Daddy ever since Jenna left me. And I suppose, too, that I had hoped Brett might be that Daddy.

  I would start my search for Lucy with the PLS, the Point Last Seen.

  Lady Lustitia agreed to meet me at eleven o’clock at a coffee shop not far from her townhouse in Drucker, a suburb twenty minutes northeast of Atlanta. Tanika was still sleeping as I closed the door behind me, my overnight bag banging against my shoulder. I’d left a note on the nightstand.

  I made a small detour and drove past The Indulgence on my way out of the city. The Indulgence is a long, low, brick building on Cheshire Bridge Road in Atlanta’s oldest red-light district. The club was quiet on a Saturday morning, too early for the evening clientele.

  I pulled into the concrete driveway and followed it past the dungeon’s unmarked front door and around into the hidden parking lot. Putting my Ford F150 in first, I let the tires crunch gravel. The gravel extended a couple of hundred yards before it turned rutted with dirt and tree roots. The lot ended when the earth turned into grass and the grass turned into a thicket of brush and trees and trash. I stopped, let the engine idle as I tilted my head to look at the lot’s perimeter. There were no security cameras anywhere and only one light pole. A perfect place for an abduction. I moved on, north to Drucker.

  Outside of her dungeon, Lady Lustitia looked more like a soccer mom than the corseted Lifestyle Sadistic Domme pictured on her laminated business card. She was about five feet four, one hundred and forty pounds o
f evenly distributed weight. Blonde hair (black at the roots) cut sensibly short with bangs just above her modestly plucked eyebrows. Dark slacks and a short-sleeved navy-and-white striped sweater. No tats or statement piercings that I could see. Two diamond studs (or maybe they were cubic zirconia) sparkled in her earlobes. Early-to-mid forties, I guessed, but she had taken good care of herself, could be older.

  “I was expecting a uniform,” Lady Lustitia said as I slid across from her in a mocha-colored vinyl booth.

  “I’m off-duty,” I said.

  “I already told Detective Washington everything I know.”

  I noted the irritation in her voice.

  “I know,” I said, “And I appreciate your willingness to meet with me.”

  I poured a cup of coffee out of a copper carafe. Lady Lustitia—Elizabeth Fraser by day—was already sipping hers. A waitress appeared. Simultaneously, we both dismissed her with an “I’m fine” and an “I’m good.” I pulled out my notepad and pen.

  “On the night of October second, where were you between eight and ten p.m.?”

  Her eyes focused on mine. They were a clear golden-brown.

  “I was working the front counter of the dungeon. I’m the owner of The Indulgence, as I’m sure you know. That night was the monthly meeting of Cheshire FemDommes. Normally, the dungeon is closed on Wednesday evenings but we open the doors for special events or meetings of local groups.”

  “And what is Cheshire FemDommes?”

  Lady Lustitia sighed.

  “Cheshire FemDommes is a social group for female Lifestyle Dominants.”

  “Like Lucy Lyon,” I suggested.

  “Yes, Lucy is one of the leaders of the group.”

  “And did you see Lucy on the night of the second?”

  She sighed again, in obvious exasperation.

  “Yes, I did. As I told Detective Washington, Lucy was the first to arrive and the last to leave. Except for me. I was still inside when Lucy left. I remember because I said goodnight and locked the door behind her.”

  “And what time was that?”

  “It must have been a little after ten.”

  “Why didn’t you leave with her?” I asked.

  “I had some paperwork to do. Bookkeeping.”

  “What time did you leave the dungeon?”

  “I didn’t check but I think it must have been around ten-thirty,” she answered.

  “And did you notice that Lucy’s car was still in the parking lot?”

  “I noticed that there was a car in the parking lot, yes. But that didn’t mean much to me. People park there sometimes. Atlanta’s got the same problem as a lot of big cities—too many people and not enough parking spaces. The Indulgence uses a towing service but I didn’t bother calling them. I figured whoever the car belonged to would retrieve it before the weekend.”

  I switched tactics.

  “How well did you know Lucy?” I asked.

  “Not well. I knew her from the dungeon. I didn’t know her outside the Scene.”

  “Did you know about her relationship with Skyler Leppard?”

  Lady Lustitia shifted as if this made her uncomfortable, blinking several times.

  “Yes, and I may as well tell you what I told Detective Washington before you hear it from somebody else. I didn’t approve of their D/s. For that matter, I didn’t approve of Lucy at all.”

  She leaned across the table.

  “Can I tell you something off the record?” she asked in a quiet voice.

  “Of course,” I said. I put down my pad and pen. I didn’t bother to tell her there is no off–the-record in police work. Anything a suspect says can be used against them in court.

  “I’m not from Atlanta,” she began. “I’m from Seattle. I’ve always associated with Leather but since moving to Atlanta seven years ago, I’ve been disappointed. Leather here isn’t anything like the Leather I knew on the West Coast. Here it’s cliquish and bitchy. The worst are the Cheshire FemDommes. They call themselves Leather but they’re like no Leather I’ve ever known.”

  “And that includes Lucy?”

  “Yes, Lucy considers herself a Leatherwoman as well as a Lifestyle Dominant. She’s also a sadist. And she is one of the most narcissistic women I have ever met.”

  Her clear skin deepened to a flushed red at her cheeks.

  “Was she that way with Skyler?”

  “Oh God yes. Skyler was brand-new to the lifestyle when she met Lucy. Lucy is very strict with her girls but she doesn’t know how to balance that strictness with nurturing. Lucy constantly said Skyler needed a firm hand. I think Skyler just needed more attention.”

  “So, you think Lucy was too rough on Skyler,” I stated.

  “I think their relationship was more abuse than D/s,” she said.

  Lady Lustitia seemed to be reading my mind.

  “But if you’re thinking I had anything to do with Lucy’s disappearance, you’re wrong. I don’t know anything about that.”

  I nodded toward my pad.

  “May I?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said.

  I opened it and took up my pen.

  “Do you have any idea who might have wanted to see Lucy disappear?”

  “Wow,” she said. “If you believe her Perv page, Lucy is the most popular FemDomme in Atlanta. But she had enemies.”

  “Like who?”

  “Like Willy Bailey, Shelby’s ex-husband.”

  “Shelby Mason, Lucy’s sex slave?” I asked.

  “Yes, Shelby has been one of Lucy’s girls since Lucy took her away from her husband. Mason was her maiden name. She took it back.”

  “And Mr. Bailey lives in Atlanta, I presume.”

  “No, actually I heard he moved back to North Carolina. Charlotte, that’s where they were from. I think I heard he has family there, his parents maybe. Or maybe siblings. I don’t remember, offhand.”

  “Anyone else? Besides Mr. Bailey?” I asked.

  “WAKE,” she said. “Women Against Kink Everywhere. They’re out of Atlanta. We’ve gotten crazy hate mail from them. They’d love nothing more than to see The Indulgence shut down. But we make sure we are one hundred per cent in compliance with all state and federal laws and local ordinances.”

  “Anyone in particular? From the WAKE group.”

  “Kate Lourdes is the worst one of the bunch. She teaches at Emory.”

  “I’ll check her out,” I said. “Anyone else?”

  She considered.

  “Not offhand. But I think once you start talking to people you’ll find that Lucy wasn’t as popular as she’d like the community to think.”

  I took a business card from my wallet and slipped it across the shiny tabletop.

  “If you think of anyone else, here’s how to contact me.”

  I paused.

  “One more thing…”

  I tugged my phone out of my back pocket and brought up a Facebook photo of a handsome woman in jeans and a black T-shirt. I showed her the screen.

  “Ever see her around?”

  She looked closer. It didn’t take her long.

  “Yes, I saw her once at The Indulgence. She came in as a guest of Skyler, I guess that was last spring. They took The Black Room. It’s a small, private room with no chairs for visitors. You have to stand in the doorway to watch someone play.”

  “And did they? Play?”

  “Yes,” she said, pointing at Brett’s picture. “I remember because this Dom had her swaying on the Saint Andrews’ Cross. I flogged Skyler a few times after she split with Lucy and I always knew when she was going into subspace by her sway. She would sway her hips as she went down.”

  I put the cell phone back in my pocket.

  “Thank you,” I said. “You’ve been very helpful.”

  At the cashier, I paid for us both and left. Willy Bailey first, then Kate Lourdes.

  At a Welcome Center on I-85, I was stretching my legs from the drive back to Altamont when I saw a text from Tanika.

  �
��Hey gorgeous,” she said. “When ya coming back to Atlanta?” A heart icon followed.

  “Not soon enough,” I texted back. I added a frown face.

  “Sorry about falling asleep on you. Call me tonight and we’ll talk.”

  “Business or pleasure?” I texted.

  “Pleasure.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  “Bye for now,” she wrote.

  “Bye, sexy lady.”

  Brett

  Skyler woke up bleeding. There was a red stain on the gray sheet where she slept. For a moment, I wondered if it was my fault, if I was too rough on her the night before. I found her in the master bathroom.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said when she emerged. “I got my period.”

  It had been so long for me that I’d forgotten about younger women. I pulled off the sheets, thought about making her wash them like a domestic submissive, but she looked so pale and fragile, I changed them myself and started a load. I put her back in bed, between clean sheets, gave her a Percocet and told her to rest. She stayed there for most of the day.

  I worked at my desk. I was on my third novel, Sappho’s Revenge, the last of a contract I negotiated with Plexus, a lesbian publishing house. I write erotic fiction set in Ancient Greece. The first two novels have had disappointing sales, but my editor was hoping for more from this one. “Romance and sex,” Judith told me. “That’s what lesbians want. More romance, more sex.”

  Around noon I started a pot of soup-fresh-market carrots, celery, potatoes, onions, and broth. I let it simmer until dinner time. Skyler got up to eat soup and a baguette, wine and more Percocet. A crescent moon had appeared in the evening sky, and she urged me out onto the front porch with an, “Oh, look.” The mountains had turned indigo beneath a horizon of yellow light. Above the light the sky darkened, blue to gray to black.

  “Listen,” she said. “It’s so quiet.”

  It’s true. It’s quiet in these mountains. A person could disappear here, quietly and forever. We stood awhile, together and apart, until the darkness overtook us. She shivered and followed me back into the cabin.