Men were wearing chain and leather harnesses, vests, or went bare-chested with suspenders. One had on a kilt. A guy wearing only a loincloth danced with a man in motorcycle leathers.
Valerie tugged on her black bustier with thin shoulder straps. “I’m under-dressed.”
“What you’re wearing is perfectly acceptable,” Linda answered. “When you’re more comfortable with the place and people, you can explore more options…or not. The Shadowlands is more relaxed about the dress code than many other clubs.”
Valerie nodded. “I did check the internet for information. Some places won’t allow jeans or T-shirts or even normal suits.”
“They want to establish a sense of community—and keep out gawkers. But since it’s not easy to get a Shadowlands membership, we don’t have looky-loos. A lot of members, like this one”—Linda nudged Sam—“prefer to feel comfortable when they play. But since dressing up is fun, the club has theme nights now and then.”
“Theme nights?” Valerie almost laughed. The essays she assigned her students often had themes.
“Basically, kinky costume parties. The Western Nights are Master Sam’s favorites.”
The Dom laughed, not at all insulted.
“Let’s sit at the bar while you get your bearings, then we’ll wander around.” Linda motioned toward the dark wood bar.
A huge male bartender filled drinks at one end; a female bartender with a pixie-cut worked the other end.
“Master Cullen, you’re working,” Linda said as she took one of the high wooden stools.
“I wanted to bartend with Josie tonight. Best way I know to get a feel for what’s going on.” The rough-hewn man behind the bar had a grim expression, but then he smiled. After nodding at Master Sam, he studied Valerie with green eyes darker than Finn’s. “Welcome to the Shadowlands, love. And you are…?”
A hint of an Irish accent danced in his voice.
“Thank you.” She settled on the barstool. “I’m Valerie.”
“Good to meet you.” He glanced at Linda. “Andrea’s working, but Rainie and a couple other subbies commandeered a sitting area near the back if you want to introduce her.”
“I do, thank you. But first, we’ll sit and admire the costumes.” Linda winked at Valerie. She undoubtedly knew how overwhelming the place was.
“Valerie.” The rasp of Finn’s deep voice had her turning. And had her wayward heart rate increasing.
When she met his green eyes, the stool beneath her seemed to shiver. Or had that been her? “Hi. I made it.” Such brilliant conversation, idiot.
Linda nodded at him. “Ghost, it’s good to see you. It’s been a while.”
Ghost? Oh, of course. Some people used different names in places like BDSM clubs.
She’d need to remember to call him Ghost.
As he greeted Linda, Valerie sat back.
He’d adhered to the Dom-standard of black and more black. His cargo pants were in a Goth style, with D-rings and buckles. A long-sleeved Henley fit snugly, outlining hard muscle. Black leather belt and boots. A gold band circled his biceps…and hmm, Cullen and Sam wore them, too.
As the men talked, Valerie whispered to Linda, “What do the gold bands on their arms mean?”
“Means they’ve received the club honorific of ‘Master’ for experience, power, and service. The Shadowlands doesn’t hand them out like lollipops.”
Master, huh. Valerie wrinkled her nose. “My ex thinks he should be called Master.”
“What to call your Dom is an internal relationship choice.” Linda shrugged. “After all, a Dominant can tell his submissive to call him anything he wants, right? But he can’t force anyone else to use his title. Inside the club, we all call these Doms the “Masters” because they’ve earned our respect.”
“Although some of us try to dodge any title.” Cullen grinned.
Finn gave him a displeased frown. “I’ll stick with simply Ghost, thank you.”
Linda smiled slowly. “As it happens, the Shadowkittens heard Ben calling you Colonel. Since you hate ‘Master’, we decided to use your rank. Because we’re nice that way.”
At Ghost’s grunt of displeasure, everyone burst out laughing.
“It works,” Sam said. “Everyone knows colonels are sadists.”
“There is that.” Ghost held Valerie’s gaze, then grinned and bent to whisper, “It’s lucky for you I didn’t achieve the rank of general.”
Oh gods.
“Valerie.”
She jumped when Master Sam said her name.
“Um, yes?”
Ghost chuckled.
Sam tapped the paper in front of her. “Study those rules before you leave the bar.”
“Right.” She set the page under the brightest spot of light.
“What rules?” Ghost moved forward to read over her shoulder.
He smelled like a Florida morning in winter—all sea breeze with a hint of citrus. Mmm. She barely resisted leaning back against him.
Sam scowled. “Apparently, Wrecker had the guard hand out “free night” tickets at the open house,