The Women of Hunt

The following Friday, Damian leaves for a conference in San Diego. Saturday, I pick up Brooke. She seems tense the whole ride. She taps her leg and clenches the handle on the door. She’s usually confident and cool. She holds her head up high and looks you right in the eye. But the person sitting next to me is a mess, a little girl with serious confidence issues.

“You’re going to be fine,” I assure her.

“That’s easy for you to say.”

“Trust me.”

“How did I let you talk me into this?”

“I know…And you’re a lawyer. I must’ve made one hell of an argument.”

“If I didn’t love you and Damian so much I would never consider doing this in a million damn years. I’d be safer sticking my head in an alligator’s mouth.”

“I think you’re being dramatic.”

We pull up to the beautiful Victorian and get out. Brooke hesitates on the wet sidewalk, her hands clasped in front of her. She’s staring down at her heeled feet. I’ve never seen her like this before. She’s so submissive. I slide my arm through hers, giving it an assuring squeeze. She nods when she’s ready. I lead her to the door and ring the bell twice.

“This is a crazy idea,” she comments before the door opens and Marlena appears looking like business in her onyx suit. She isn’t wearing a camisole under the jacket, her impressive cleavage peeking out of the top. She’s all sex and Dominant bravado.

“Hello, kitten,” she purrs, giving me the fuck me eyes she has down to a science.

“Hello, Marlena,” I greet her.

Her eyes move to Brooke standing so close to me, you’d swear we were Siamese twins.

“You’re looking well, Miss Evans.” She smiles at her.

I think Brooke is unsure of her authenticity, but smiles tightly back at her.

“Hello.”

She straightens out her shoulders and lifts her head up high, retaining the Brooke I know and love.

“Please, come in.”

copyright © Lena Black