“Have to do it,” the bodyguard said. “Don’t want any pictures out there.”
“Look, the lady said don’t touch her.” Lance stepped between them. “This woman’s a professional. She doesn’t take pictures of clients.”
“I’d hardly be beating the shit out of Oscar-winners if I couldn’t be trusted not to blow their covers, now could I?” Nora chided in her most patronizing voice. “I don’t have a camera on me. Your boss’s little secrets are safe. We’re leaving.”
She turned around but stopped when a big heavy hand clapped down on her shoulder with enough force to make her knees buckle.
“Excuse me—” she started to say but all words became unnecessary when Lance grabbed the bodyguard by the forearm. In seconds Lance had the man on his stomach, his arm twisted behind his back.
“You touch her again and you lose this arm,” Lance said, his voice calm but menacing.
“Get the fuck off me.” The bodyguard tried to rise up and Lance slammed him back down again.
“You fight like a bouncer. In other words, you’re a shitty fighter. So stop trying or I’ll dislocate your shoulder for the fun of it.”
“That is fun,” Nora agreed. “Especially when you pop it back in again.”
“You ready to go, Mistress?” Lance asked.
“I was ready five minutes ago.”
“Then let’s go. You,” Lance said to the man underneath him, “you stay here. I’ll walk the lady out.”
“What lady? You mean the slut in the black boots over there?”
Nora gave him a little royal wave.
“Dude, you really should not have said that.” Lance sighed. With one jerk of his arm, he popped the man’s arm out of his shoulder socket. The man screamed even louder than his boss did.
“Lance, put his shoulder back in right this second.” Nora rolled her eyes.
“Anything you say, Mistress.” With another jerk he popped it back and man screamed again.
Lance stood up and left the man on the floor writhing in pain. Arm in arm she and Lance walked toward the elevator.
The elevator doors closed and she and Lance dissolved into laughter.
“Thanks for taking care of that big dumb behemoth for me. Does he not realize ‘slut’ is a compliment in our world?”
“The bigger they are, the harder they fall. I probably shouldn’t have dislocated his shoulder.”
Nora shrugged. “Kingsley once sanded a guy who got too handsy with one of the submissives.”
“Sanded? Like with sandpaper on sensitive parts of the male anatomy?” Lance winced.
“No, that would have been barbaric.”
“That’s a relief.”
“He used an electric sander.”
Nora and Lance swung by Kingsley’s for lunch and put Mr. Oscar-Winner on the No-Play list. Kingsley had a strict one-strike-and-you’re-out policy for clients. One misstep and they lost any chance to play with his employees, ever. Too bad, the guy was a decent tipper.
After lunch they drove back to her house in Westport where Nora changed back into normal clothes again.
“I hope that wasn’t a total waste of an afternoon,” Lance said as she returned to the living room back in her jeans and T-shirt. She got two beers out of her fridge—Achel Extra Blonde, her favorite—and handed one to Lance. She kept the other for herself.
“And milady’s a beer drinker, too,” Lance said with a heavy wistful sigh.
“Only rare European beers brewed by monks,” she said. “Friend of mine made me try it while we were in Belgium.”
“Good stuff,” Lance said, after taking a long drink.
“Thanks for taking care of that asshole today. I don’t like admitting this, but he did scare me.”
“Scared me, too,” Lance admitted.
“You put him on his face and dislocated his shoulder.”
“He could have done the same to me if he knew what he was doing.”
“I’m still impressed.”
“Dick-swinging bravado impresses you?”
Nora smiled at him. “Acting strong even when afraid impresses me. It’s not courage if you’re not scared.” She leaned forward and they clinked their beer bottles together.
“I’m just glad you’re safe. That’s all that matters.”
“You were with me. Of course I’m okay.”
Lance leaned forward to set his beer on the coffee table. Nora lifted the back of his shirt.
“Hey, yo, what are you doing?” he asked, looking back over his shoulder.
“Relax. I like seeing the souvenirs. My clients rarely book back-to-back sessions with me. I never get to see the aftermath.”
Lance grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked. He bent forward and let her have full access to his back.
“Damn. I do good work. You still have some nice bruises. Want me to get the mouthwash?”
“Mouthwash?”
“Little trick Kingsley taught me. Applying mouthwash to bruises makes them fade faster. They’ll be gone in two days if you want.”
“I think I’ll keep them,” he said. “You’re keeping yours, aren’t you?”
“I always keep mine,” she confessed. “You like your bruises?”
“I love them. They’re a turn-on.”