food line was painless. She had a chance to feel bad for not bringing a dish, but her current pennilessness wouldn't allow for unnecessary purchases. Hell, it wouldn't allow for necessary purchases. She relied on JoBeth for everything these days now that she'd spent her money. However, right now that moment of embarrassment was fleeting because an avalanche of questions snared her attention.
Yes, it has been a while.
Yes, I'm fine.
The leather? Soft as butter and so comfortable.
What? Well, my life is in flux right now...you know how that is.
Jeremy? It didn't work out.
Yes, destiny is full of surprises.
Thanks, but I've already got a seat. Maybe next time?
No, I'll get my own drink, but thank you.
Wow, this chicken looks good...
She finally managed to escape the curious hoard and slipped toward an empty table. It was close enough to the leather men and women that it appeared she was partaking of the conversation and community building, but was also angled enough not to be an actual participant.
There she sat. The dinner tasted like straw, and an unexpected thickness in her throat kept her from swallowing more than tiny pieces. In fact, she spent more time pushing her food around her plate than actually consuming it.
She'd been kicked out. Sure, Mike was polite about it, pretending to not recognize her and treating her like a guest, but the truth was she'd been removed. Kicked out. Rolled out the door. Axed from the community she'd been a part of for more than a year. It hadn't always been a bed of roses, of course, but she'd liked belonging. Now...where did she belong? Did she belong at all?
"Hi."
A voice at her elbow pulled her from the morose examination of her food on the daisy-pattered plastic plate. A pair of quiet gray eyes met hers, underscored by a toothy smile and a pair of well-sculpted shoulders. Hair the color of corn burst from the constraints of what looked like what had once been a crew cut. The rest of him was hidden beneath a pair of pants and a collared shirt of some casual brand, but he looked lean and fit, a man in his prime.
He'd been sitting with Seth a moment ago. What did he want with her?
Her answer was a cautious, "Hi."
"Can I sit down?"
Annabel blinked, startled. "Uh...sure."
He maneuvered into a chair. She couldn't help but notice he limped. "You okay?"
"Story of my life," he answered with another bright smile. "I was born with it."
What did a person say to that? I'm sorry? I'm glad? That's too bad? She settled on smiling back. "Can I get you something from the buffet?"
"Naw," he said. "I cleaned a plate over there." He gave a careless gesture with his thumb. "Thanks, though."
"No worries," said Annabel and took a sip of her cola. Why was he over here and not with Seth? His arrival had to have been deliberate since her table was somewhat off the beaten path. In truth, he looked slightly familiar. Had she seen him before? Or was it that movie star smile that prodded her for recognition?
"Your first time here?"
He nodded and fiddled with a napkin on the table. He looked...nervous.
"Um," he hesitated, giving substance to her appraisement of his nervousness. "I saw you get the boot. I...I wanted to offer my sincere apologies for it. There was no reason for them to kick you out."
She grabbed for the tattered remnants of her bravado. "It says a lot about the kind of men who populate that area...and nothing good at that."
"Yeah," he said. Then flicked his eyes at her before lowering his gaze to the tabletop again. "A goddess shouldn't be treated that way. She should be worshipped."
A submissive, she realized, or possibly a slave. One who didn't know much about their chosen kink. Then why'd he been sitting at Seth's table?
What the hell. I'll try out the Domina thing. Maybe it's a better fit than being a slave.
"I agree," she said and warmed to her new role as dominant female. "Those folks over there don't seem to get that. Stuck in some archaic, dick-centric idealism from
Yes, it has been a while.
Yes, I'm fine.
The leather? Soft as butter and so comfortable.
What? Well, my life is in flux right now...you know how that is.
Jeremy? It didn't work out.
Yes, destiny is full of surprises.
Thanks, but I've already got a seat. Maybe next time?
No, I'll get my own drink, but thank you.
Wow, this chicken looks good...
She finally managed to escape the curious hoard and slipped toward an empty table. It was close enough to the leather men and women that it appeared she was partaking of the conversation and community building, but was also angled enough not to be an actual participant.
There she sat. The dinner tasted like straw, and an unexpected thickness in her throat kept her from swallowing more than tiny pieces. In fact, she spent more time pushing her food around her plate than actually consuming it.
She'd been kicked out. Sure, Mike was polite about it, pretending to not recognize her and treating her like a guest, but the truth was she'd been removed. Kicked out. Rolled out the door. Axed from the community she'd been a part of for more than a year. It hadn't always been a bed of roses, of course, but she'd liked belonging. Now...where did she belong? Did she belong at all?
"Hi."
A voice at her elbow pulled her from the morose examination of her food on the daisy-pattered plastic plate. A pair of quiet gray eyes met hers, underscored by a toothy smile and a pair of well-sculpted shoulders. Hair the color of corn burst from the constraints of what looked like what had once been a crew cut. The rest of him was hidden beneath a pair of pants and a collared shirt of some casual brand, but he looked lean and fit, a man in his prime.
He'd been sitting with Seth a moment ago. What did he want with her?
Her answer was a cautious, "Hi."
"Can I sit down?"
Annabel blinked, startled. "Uh...sure."
He maneuvered into a chair. She couldn't help but notice he limped. "You okay?"
"Story of my life," he answered with another bright smile. "I was born with it."
What did a person say to that? I'm sorry? I'm glad? That's too bad? She settled on smiling back. "Can I get you something from the buffet?"
"Naw," he said. "I cleaned a plate over there." He gave a careless gesture with his thumb. "Thanks, though."
"No worries," said Annabel and took a sip of her cola. Why was he over here and not with Seth? His arrival had to have been deliberate since her table was somewhat off the beaten path. In truth, he looked slightly familiar. Had she seen him before? Or was it that movie star smile that prodded her for recognition?
"Your first time here?"
He nodded and fiddled with a napkin on the table. He looked...nervous.
"Um," he hesitated, giving substance to her appraisement of his nervousness. "I saw you get the boot. I...I wanted to offer my sincere apologies for it. There was no reason for them to kick you out."
She grabbed for the tattered remnants of her bravado. "It says a lot about the kind of men who populate that area...and nothing good at that."
"Yeah," he said. Then flicked his eyes at her before lowering his gaze to the tabletop again. "A goddess shouldn't be treated that way. She should be worshipped."
A submissive, she realized, or possibly a slave. One who didn't know much about their chosen kink. Then why'd he been sitting at Seth's table?
What the hell. I'll try out the Domina thing. Maybe it's a better fit than being a slave.
"I agree," she said and warmed to her new role as dominant female. "Those folks over there don't seem to get that. Stuck in some archaic, dick-centric idealism from
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