Chapter 5

"He had some kind of training, she knew, but she wasn’t sure exactly what kind, or where he'd gotten it."

Nora smoothed her tight black dress with her hands automatically, opened the kitchen door, and gave Heath a big hug with extra titty, taking care to smoosh her chest against his tee shirt rather than his peacoat. Her D-cups hurt her back by the end of the day to the point she had seriously considered pulling a Ronnie, and she had to special order lingerie, but damned if they didn’t cheer the boys up. “Hey, Mr. Mister,” she said warmly, stepping back and taking both his hands in hers. “Come on in!”

Heath followed her into the kitchen. He looked around mutely, seemingly unsure whether he should take off his jacket. Nora wondered how much of his obvious anxiety was the benzo withdrawal and how much was the fact that he was here to meet her primary partner. She decided she didn’t care. “You want me to hang that up?” she said gently, tugging at his sleeve.

Heath smiled, seemingly snapping out of his reverie. “Sure,” he said. He shrugged off the heavy wool jacket and handed it to her. She took it into the hall and hung it on a peg, then went back into the kitchen. She heard Danny come down the stairs behind her.

“Hey, you must be Heath,” Danny said, padding into the room like a big cat. He was wearing a tight blue ribbed tank top and black jeans over black Timberland boots. He looked Heath up and down and smiled brilliantly. “Nora told me you were a big guy.”

A look Nora had trouble interpreting passed over Heath’s face, and then it was gone. “Thanks?” he said, grinning back, and stuck out his hand. Danny took it and shook it. Nora frowned as the handshake went on for a second longer than she’d expected. Danny had a trick where he twisted his wrist inward when he shook guys’ hands. He’d explained to her that it meant you were socially dominant. Nora had started paying attention to stuff like that since she had been with Danny, and she noticed Heath’s wrist hadn’t turned.

“Baby, why don’t you fix Heath a drink?” Danny said, stepping back and putting his hand on her shoulder. His smile was still in place. Nora wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but the prospect of finding out made her feel tingly. He’d taken bigger guys than Heath.

She hurried toward the liquor cabinet next to the refrigerator. “What can I get you?” she asked Heath.

“A bottle of water would be great,” Heath said. He took his phone out of his pocket. “Hey, do I have your email? There’s an article I wanted to send you about that book we were talking about.”

Nora hesitated. Heath had used the word “opsec” twice in passing during a conversation they’d had at his house, and she’d looked it up afterwards; she liked being able to drop little tidbits of information into a conversation with the men she slept with that made her sound knowledgeable about their interests. Based on the way he talked and the things he talked about, though, she had the edges of the kinds of things Heath was interested in, and they were beginning to worry her. He had some kind of training, she knew, but she wasn’t sure exactly what kind, or where he’d gotten it. She knew it wasn’t military; he didn’t move like any soldier she’d ever met, and she’d asked him if he’d ever been in the Army once to see if he’d lie, and he hadn’t. But she had an idea that whatever it was was in the same ballpark, and the fact that she couldn’t put her finger on what kind of training it might be had been nagging at her.

Danny shot her a meaningful look. “Oh, sure!” Nora said brightly to Heath. “It’s ‘blue hair don’t care at pound me foolish dot triple x.’” Pound Me Foolish was the site that hosted her fetish photos. She had shown Heath the latest shots of her dangling in Danny’s suspension rig, looking lustfully at the camera, and he had been appreciative, but by now she was aware Heath defaulted to politeness when he didn’t know what else to say, and she knew the pictures didn’t actually do much for him.

He was really polite, too, without exception. That was another thing that worried Nora. From her point of view, knowing exactly what it took to flip the switch in a man that triggers physical violence was a survival necessity. After a month of discreetly probing him for hot buttons, she hadn’t been able to figure out what flipped Heath’s.

Heath tapped at his phone’s keyboard for a minute and groaned. He looked up, apparently defeated. “Shit,” he said. “No bars. What’s your wifi password?”

“DogWhistle404,” Danny said. “One word, no underscore, uppercase D, uppercase W.”

Heath winked at him. “Thanks,” he said. He smiled at Nora. “There you go. Sent.”

Nora got a pint bottle of Deer Park from the refrigerator. She handed it to Heath and slipped her arm around Danny’s waist. Danny cupped her butt comfortingly. “I hear you’re from Philadelphia,” he said to Heath. “That’s a pretty rough town.”

Heath’s smile was patient, if tired. “Parts of it,” he said diplomatically. “I lived in one of the mostly not-rough parts. Have you been?”

Danny nodded. “Couple times, for conventions,” he said. “BDSM conventions and web design conventions,” he added, flashing his fangs at Heath.

“What’d you eat?” Heath said, leaning back against the kitchen counter and opening his water. “The restaurant culture there is amazing. There isn’t a single place that’s not at least a B plus in my book, and most are an A minus or better.”

Danny shrugged. “They’ve got a Hard Rock Cafe, and I know I ate there a bunch, but I’m not really a foodie. I know we went out to a steakhouse a few times.”

Heath downed his pint of water. “Brazilian steakhouse?” he asked, replacing the cap and putting the empty bottle on the counter. “There’s a couple of those.”

Danny smiled meaninglessly. “I think so.” He inclined his head toward the hallway. “Come on, let’s go into the living room.”