“Did you get matched? What did the results say? I mean…I have my theories.”
I hold my phone against my chest. “It’s nothing. No matches. And what are your theories?” I ask out of curiosity.
“Based on the way you answered those questions the other night, you’ve got some inner FemDom kink, which means there’s a guy out there just waiting to kiss your boots.”
I push off the bar I’m leaning against and head toward the shared office, eager to get as far away from this conversation as I can. “Nope. I can’t talk about this. I don’t even own boots.”
“Oh, come on!” Mia whines, following close behind me.
“It’s too weird!”
“Don’t be a hypocrite. It is not weird.”
“For me, it is.”
“Okay fine,” she replies, rushing to my side. “We don’t have to talk about it, but just tell me if my theory is right.”
I pause, pressing my lips together as I turn toward her. “You won’t tell anyone?”
She holds up a hand as if taking an oath. “Promise.”
“Yes. Your theory is correct.”
She squeals, covering her mouth.
“Shhh…”
When she finally stops making noises of excitement like the bouncy twenty-three-year-old she is, I roll my eyes and head toward the office. “Don’t you dare say a word, Mia!”
“I won’t,” she calls back. “But I bet that within six months, you’ll be the kinkiest person in this club!”
With a groan, I close myself in the office, hoping to God no one heard that last part. As I drop everything on my desk, I let out a heavy sigh.
I hate attention. And I really hate feeling like people are laughing at me or that I’m the odd one out, so I’ve spent the last ten years drawing as little attention to myself as possible. But now that the girls have gotten me to take this stupid quiz, I have a very bad feeling that it’s going to get out and I’ll be the laughing stock of Salacious.
My phone vibrates, and I pick it up to find I have three missed messages from Mr. Stupid.
Why can’t I just be a vanilla guy? What’s so wrong with that?
Technically my results are Experimental, Submissive, Brat. Which sounds a little vague, don’t you think?
What about you?
I stare at the screen. What started as me teasing him has turned into something else. A real conversation. And I know where real conversations go. Soon we’re talking about ourselves, and using the promise of anonymity as a safety net to expose our deepest secrets, and then what?
Then he finds out that I’m too old for him, nothing like the hot young girls he could probably get, and it will end with disappointment. Best to get it out of the way now.
I’m thirty-four.
That’s what your quiz results told you?
No.
I’m telling you now, since I didn’t put it in my bio.
I’m thirty-four, and I see you’re twenty-two.
So maybe before this conversation goes any further, we should just get that out of the way.
K
K?
Yeah. K.
So, what did your quiz results say?
Well, that’s not the response I was expecting.
Domme, Mistress, Brat tamer