Dane looked up and caught her eye. She smiled slightly and pushed her glass out in front of her. “Want another beer?”

Kyle lifted her bottle and shook her head. “I’m still working on this one. I had a few earlier.”

“Oh? Have you been here awhile?”

“No. I was at a meeting earlier. A discussion group.”

Dane groaned. “Not you, too.”

“What do you mean?” Kyle asked in surprise.

“Oh, my friends were trying to get me to go to one tonight.” Dane sighed and looked around the bar. “Not for me. I’m tired of all the talk.” Her expression said she was more than tired.

My god, we were as close as I’ve ever been with anyone and now I can’t reach her! Dane seemed barricaded by anger. Or was it something else? Maybe talking wasn’t the answer.

“Dane?”

“Hmm?”

“Want to dance?”

Dane smiled suddenly. “Yes.”

They danced to one song after another, not talking. They let the music guide them into and out of each other’s arms, first close, then moving apart to the rhythm of the sound. Finally, damp with sweat, they returned to the table. Anne and Caroline were already there, another round of beers in front of them.

“Glad you could make it to the group tonight, Dane,” Caroline said caustically.

“Ran short on time,” Dane replied tersely as she reached for a beer.

“I’ll bet, Caroline said sarcastically.

Kyle looked from Dane to Caroline, confused. Anne appeared uncomfortable and tried to change the subject.

“I see you two have met,” she began.

Dane looked up quickly as Kyle answered.

“Yes, we’ve met. Are you two all danced out?”

Anne smiled, her hand on Caroline’s arm. “We’re just taking a break, right, babe?”

When Caroline failed to answer, Anne followed her gaze. Her heart sank when she saw who approached. Oh, Christ, not tonight! And not with Dane here! She looked quickly at Dane, whose back was to the newcomer.

Kyle glanced up at the dark-haired woman who stood beside the table. A perfectly ironed white shirt tucked into tight-fitting leather pants outlined her thin, rangy figure. Her sleeves were rolled up to mid-forearm exposing sinewy tendons and taut muscles. Everything about her was austere, razor-sharp. She stood slightly behind Dane’s right shoulder, slim, long fingers hooked lightly around a wide black leather belt, surveying the group.

“Hello Anne, Caroline.” Her voice was smooth, yet somehow dangerous.

Dane’s hands tightened around her bottle at the sound of the familiar voice behind her. She forced herself not to turn, but reached slowly into her pocket and pulled out a cigarette. Only Kyle noticed the slight tremor in her hands as she lit it carefully and inhaled deeply.

Caroline looked anxiously at Dane and then over at the new arrival.

“Hello, Brad.”

“I thought you might introduce me to your new friend here,” the cool, slightly husky voice continued, her hand resting lightly on Kyle’s shoulder. Kyle shifted in her seat to face the woman, surprised.

Anne quickly said, “This is Kyle, Brad. Kyle, this is Terry Bradley, ‘Brad’ to most of us.”

Brad pulled a chair from an adjoining table and sat down on Kyle’s right. She stretched her legs out and tipped back slightly in her chair. She ran her gaze slowly over Kyle’s face, lingering on the tanned triangle of skin exposed by Kyle’s open-collared shirt.

“Hello, Kyle,” she said softly. Suggestively.

Kyle stared back at the dark eyes which held her own, unable to pierce their cool veneer.

She nodded, acutely aware of Dane’s stiff silence to her left.

Brad smiled slightly, a crooked grin, which softened her features for an instant. Just as quickly, the smile disappeared, and she turned her attention to Dane.

“And how is the legendary Dane Jorgensen these days?”

Dane acknowledged Brad for the first time by tipping her glass slightly in her direction.

“Same as always, Brad. Fine.”

Brad laughed, her gaze shifting to Anne and Caroline.

“I haven’t seen much of you two lately. Is the dog business keeping you busy?” Her voice was friendly, but Kyle thought she detected an edge to it.

“Don’t you keep up anymore?” Caroline said nonchalantly. “Business has been good. We just wanted to come out for a good time tonight.” She looked pointedly at Dane, trying to gauge her friend’s response to Brad’s presence. She knew very well that Dane went out of her way to avoid Terry Bradley. And she knew why.

“Oh, yes,” Brad said slowly. “I did notice that Baron took Best in Show in Georgia. Things can’t be too bad. Still a one dog show, though.”

Dane stared at Brad, her face tight. “Baron deserves it, and you know it.”

“Oh yes, I know it.” She regarded Dane contemptuously, her hand dropping onto Kyle’s thigh. “And how about you, Kyle? Are you into dogs, too?”

“No—furniture,” Kyle replied. She shifted slightly but Brad did not move her hand.

Dane stood up suddenly, her body tense. She looked down at Kyle and Brad, her eyes dark and impenetrable.

“You should be careful how you choose your company, Kyle. Some people aren’t worth the effort.”

Kyle looked up in surprise. “Dane—” she began. What the hell is going on?

“What’s the matter, Dane? Lost your competitive spirit?” Brad asked, a hint of challenge in her voice.

Dane smiled tightly. “I’m not competing with you, Brad. I don’t have to.” She turned abruptly and walked away, disappearing quickly into the crowd.

Anne and Caroline looked at each other, and then turned to Kyle.

“We’re leaving soon, Kyle. Would you like to stay at our place tonight?”

“Thanks, no,” Kyle said quietly. “I’d rather head home, too.”

As Anne and Caroline stood up to leave, Brad’s grip tightened on Kyle’s leg.

“You don’t have to leave so early, do you?”

“I’m afraid I do.”

“Some other time, then,” Brad said lightly, removing her hand.

Kyle stood up. “Perhaps.”

Brad sipped her drink slowly, smiling to herself in satisfaction.

CHAPTER SEVEN

DANE DROVE RAPIDLY through the city, her mind careening from image to image—Kyle, her face soft with sleep, awakening by her side; Brad, so arrogant, so close to her, taunting her as only Brad could do. She shook her head and switched on the radio, hoping the music would drive her thoughts away. It had been months since she had last seen Brad, but the effect was still the same. Her mere presence made Dane feel helpless, impotent. And then she had put her hands on Kyle. So damn sure she could have anything she wanted! And Dane believed that she probably could. She hated her lack of control at these moments, face to face with her own weakness. Anger boiled close to the surface, threatening to consume her. She pulled her car abruptly into an empty space, realizing for the first time that she had driven almost unconsciously to the old familiar neighborhood. She sat for a second staring up at the three story Victorian set back from the street, majestic in its own particular way.

Even as she hesitated, she knew what she would do. There were too many emotions tearing at her—anger, despair, helplessness—memories so painful it hurt to breathe. She wasn’t ready to face all the feelings pounding in her head, and there was only one sure way she knew to push them away. She carefully locked her car and tucked the keys in her pocket. She crossed the darkened street, slowly climbed the steps to the front door and knocked firmly.

The door opened to reveal a large woman, her features accentuated by the short, close crop of her hair. Her dark eyes searched Dane’s face quickly, noting the agitation Dane tried to hide. She stepped back and motioned Dane into the large, well-furnished room.

“It’s been a long time, Dane. Things must be going well for you these days.” Her voice held a bite of sarcasm. She knew perfectly well that Dane visited her only when she was in the depths of some emotional turmoil. She also knew Dane would come to her only when driven to it. Only at the point of extreme stress could Dane tolerate exposing herself in quite this way to anyone.

Dane nodded, having nothing to say. In a way, she hated this woman. She represented Dane’s failure. When she could not control her own life, her own needs, she was forced to look into the face of her own torment and see her failures reflected there. When she could not intellectually bring order to her world, she sought physical escape. When she could not live with her own hidden vulnerability, she sought physical punishment.

“What’s your safe word?” the woman said sharply, having no desire for conversation. Already she felt the excitement that Dane’s presence always aroused in her. Dane was so cool, so controlled, so perfect in everyone’s eyes. But she knew; she knew Dane as no one else would ever know her, for she had seen the depths of her despair. And before long, she would witness Dane’s surrender to it.

“The same,” Dane replied tightly. She followed the woman as they moved through the spacious house toward a rear staircase. They climbed to the third floor where a single door faced them. Dane watched the familiar figure sort through a ring of keys and unlock the door. Dane entered first in response to the woman’s gesture.

The room was surprisingly warm. She stood in blackness for a moment, knowing that the darkness was enhanced by the absence of windows. A soft, red glow suddenly suffused the room as a switch was turned on behind her. Dane began to sweat slightly, and her pulse quickened. She did not turn around when she heard the door close resoundingly behind her. She waited. The lights were arranged in recessed ceiling tracks in such a way that much of the space around her was in shadow. There was a deep carpet on the floor and some kind of soundboard on the walls, which absorbed almost any noise. No one would here her cries. No one would witness her defeat. Left alone with her own thoughts in the womb-like atmosphere, Dane quickly lost track of time.

“Take off your clothes.”

Dane started slightly at the voice, which cut through the silence from somewhere in the shadows. She reached for her vest.

“Slowly.”

Dane’s right hand, trembling slightly, worked each snap free on the damp leather. She pulled it off and dropped it. She raised first one slender leg and then the other to remove her boots. Next she released the buckle at her waist and freed the buttons on her fly to bare her naked flesh. The heat, the soft red light, and the stillness closed in around her as she pushed the smooth leather down her legs to bare herself completely.

The woman in the shadows smiled triumphantly. Dane was physically exposed to her, helpless and without protection. Soon she would be emotionally naked as well.

Moments passed and still Dane stood unmoving in the center of the room. Her mind slowly emptied itself of all thought as the sound of her own heartbeat became louder in her ears. She tensed slightly at the touch of a hand on her back, but she did not turn. The darkness became total as a soft, close-fitting leather hood was pulled over her head and fastened snugly around her neck. Her eyes were completely covered, but there were ample spaces for her nose and mouth, making it warm inside but allowing easy breathing. Something was pressed to her nose.

“Inhale,” the voice directed.

Dane did and almost immediately felt a wave of heat wash over her. Her head began to pound, and her skin tingled. She was aware of being pushed firmly forward, her body seeming to move without her guidance. The hood blocked her keenest senses, her sight and hearing, and isolated her from her surroundings. She was forced now to experience events through her skin—to open the natural barrier of her body and to feel through it. They stopped suddenly, and Dane felt thick, soft straps being buckled around her wrists and ankles. Her body was pulled off balance, first one way and then another as her limbs were secured to a scaffold. She hung suspended in such a way that her feet barely touched the floor. Her arms were stretched out over her head, the leather restraints taut, just verging on painful. She floated in the silent blackness.

Her master walked softly to the side of the room, seated herself on a stool at a small bar, and studied her handiwork. Dane’s finely muscled back and small, firm buttocks looked tantalizing in the muted red light. She forced herself to wait for a few moments, knowing this would enhance Dane’s sense of disembodiment. She poured brandy into a glass and sipped it slowly. Finally, she opened a small cabinet set into the wall and removed the largest of her braided cats, a treacherous whip when handled by someone less practiced than her. Her hand closed around the heavy leather-wrapped handle, her entire being focused on the pale, naked, hooded form before her.