of social skills, I had learned to play the game.
“Sir, if you’re interested, I would like to avail myself for your pleasure.”
I paused, glancing down at the young woman who had stepped up to my side.
My brain immediately catalogued her features. Her hair was blond and shiny, her shoulders bony, breasts high and firm, nipples tight and brown, waist narrow, hips equally so. As for her costume, her toothpick legs were adorned with sheer white, crotchless stockings, feet encased in a pair of white, heeled knee-high boots. She looked the same as every other female submissive I’d encountered tonight and appealed as much as the others, which translated to not at all.
I didn’t speak, not even to acknowledge she had approached. This was the very reason I preferred to engage at Dichotomy when I was in Chicago. At least there the submissives were trained not to speak to me. Under any circumstance.
Evidently, that memo hadn’t made it to TJ’s party this time around, either.
Ignoring her, I made a wide berth around her scantily clad form, letting her know she was in my way.
A few minutes later, when another young woman did the same, I gave up the ghost, returning to the main floor, where the Dominants were congregating. At least they would not be propositioning me.
Shortly after I returned to the chaos, I noticed Trent Ramsey engaged in a conversation with four of his partners who ran the highly successful Chatter PR: Justin Parker, Benjamin Snowden, Landon and Langston Moore. The five men were congregating off to the side of the main walkway that would take me out of the house. Since I had yet to engage anyone in conversation, save for a quick hello/goodbye with Ransom upon his hasty retreat a short time ago, I figured it was imperative I do so before I took my leave.
Landon let out a booming laugh. “I can actually see that. Clarissa dressed up like a Christmas tree.”
“Sounds appealing,” Justin said.
“Troy came up with the idea of dangling ornaments. She wasn’t impressed,” Trent explained.
“I imagine not.”
When I noticed another submissive making a beeline in my direction, I inserted myself into the conversation without haste. “Are they with you tonight?” I asked, looking right at Trent. “Clarissa and Troy?”
All eyes shifted to me in greeting. Pleasantries weren’t necessary as these five men were some of those close friends I’d mentioned.
“They are not,” he answered with a grin. “Clarissa was not willing to take that chance.”
“Luci tried to get out of it,” Langston stated. “We wouldn’t allow it.”
He nodded in the direction of a buffet that had been set up. All the food was black and white, as was the theme. All of it was also laid out on Luci’s trim, naked form.
“Keeping a close eye on her, are you?” I teased.
“Not for the reason you’re thinking,” Landon said with a laugh. “I fear she’ll bolt if we give her half a chance.”
“Did you come from the dungeon?” Langston asked me. “Thoughts?”
The only reason I smiled was because I knew they were expecting it. That and it helped to ease the lie that tumbled out easily. “I found it rather pleasurable, yes.”
Trent gazed past me before resuming eye contact. “No pets for you this evening, either?”
I quirked a brow, not bothering to answer. They knew me better than that. I did not have pets, as they so affectionately referred to their submissives. Mine were possessions, which was an entirely separate and distinct subset.
“If you’ll excuse us,” Langston said, tapping Landon’s arm and nodding toward their submissive. “I think we need to intervene.”
I glanced over, saw Luci smacking the hand of an overly touchy Dominant.
When I turned back, Justin and Ben were engaged in conversation with another Dominant, and Trent had moved in closer to me. “Did you see Ransom earlier?”
I masked my expression. “Briefly.”
Trent stared at me and I could practically see his brain working. The man was nothing if not astute—not to mention skeptical—and for the past year, I think he’d been as curious as I was regarding what was going on with Ransom. However, I didn’t think he’d managed to unearth the same information I had, despite the fact Ransom headed up security for Chatter PR and worked closely with Trent and his clients.
“You know something, Talon.”
“Do I?” I took a sip of champagne.
“If there’s something I can do to help him, I think you need—”
Before he could finish the sentence, our attention was diverted to a commotion near the front door.
From my