taxes, the club was turning a profit and Braun had the resources to grow his empire just a little more.
The question was, with what?
He’d given serious thought to adding on a restaurant-type building. There was enough space between barns two and three to slot in an additional building, joining the entrance onto the walkway. Just a small affair, something intimate and cozy.
Members would be able to have dinner before relaxing in the social area for a time, then moving on to scening. It would’ve come in handy this afternoon for feeding the little waif currently scowling at her task.
Of course, a restaurant meant sourcing staff—there was the matter of a good chef, kitchen and front of house workers—and anyone he hired needed to go through the same strict protocols as any member, not to mention had to be kink-friendly.
It upped the game considerably and he wasn’t sure it was worth the headache, in all honesty. He could just as easily put the money toward an indoor pool or build a specific area for the...wetter activities such as blood play and watersports.
Reading the notes he’d already made, he began adding to them. When his screen began to judder and vibrations hummed through the keyboard, he scowled over at Bodie, who looked far too innocent for her own good. If he wasn’t mistaken, she was kicking his desk. Not hard, just enough to annoy.
If she wasn’t careful, her bid for attention was going to work too well—and once she had his complete focus, she might well wish she’d sat quietly and concluded her timeout in the spirit with which he’d intended.
Without a blisteringly sore bottom.
Braun continued to ignore her, intrigued as to whether she would escalate her attempts to brat or remember where she was and who with—he was damn sure once she got an eyeful of how a real subbie was dealt with, she’d remember just fine.
Nine minutes left.
The kicking grew faster, a bit harder, but the innocent expression didn’t change and neither did the speed at which she dutifully scribbled down her lines.
His cell phone bleated, saving Braun from reaching over the desk, hauling Bodie onto his lap, and paddling her insolent behind until her squeaks and squeals of protest turned into moans and tears. He answered the call, pulling up his screensaver as he said, “Fitzpatrick.”
To really piss off his subbie—because, hell, if she decided to admit she swayed that way, he would do his damnedest to claim her before anyone else got a shot at her—he spun his chair around until his back was almost, but not quite, facing her. He could just see her out of the corner of his eye.
“Braun, it’s Michael.”
“Michael, it’s been a while. How are you and that sassy sub of yours keeping?” Honest pleasure rang in Braun’s tone. “We’ve missed seeing you around these parts.”
Michael was a longstanding Dom at Avalon. In his middle sixties, the lawyer had been a regular before he’d had the good fortune to meet his submissive—now wife—in the middle of a wax play demonstration in barn three.
Kathleen was a sweet woman in her late fifties who’d come to the club to tick off an item on her bucket list after her husband of thirty years passed away in his sleep. She and Michael had hit it off straight away, and what might have been simply a dalliance for her turned into something from a romance novel.
They’d been absent from the club for nearly three months; Braun wasn’t lying when he said they were missed. Kathleen’s laugh could light up a room and her sense of humor was both dirty and limitless.
“As we’ve missed you. Had a health scare,” Michael admitted slowly, almost uncomfortably. “Turns out I haven’t been taking good enough care of my ticker. Needed some time out from life after I had a minor heart attack.”
“Well, fuck. I’m sorry to hear that, Mike.”
“Nothing a change of diet and some bedrest hasn’t fixed. I got the all clear from the hospital last week to resume normal activity, and normal for us is...well, Avalon.” Michael cleared his throat. “Kathleen and I would like to come back, Braun.”
Swinging around to the computer, Braun dismissed the club logo and quickly accessed the membership records. “That shouldn’t be a problem. We’d love to have you back. Membership fees for you both are up to date,” he noted, scanning names and payment dates. “It’ll be great to see you.”
“Well, ah, that wasn’t the only reason for me calling.”
“Oh?”
“Kathleen turns sixty next