The White Queen: Chapter 2

 ~ Mary ~

Completely engrossed in my book, in a particular steamy scene, involving an erotic spanking, I jump in surprise when I hear my name being called.

“Fucking hell,” I say loudly, as I nearly topple off my stool and upending my coffee.

Two large, warm hands grab my waist and steady me on my perch. Turning, I look into a face I haven’t seen in ten years.

“Francis?” I breath out, before asking, “Francis O’Donald?”

His face splits into a wide—beautiful—smile.

Has he always looked this enticing? I don’t remember his smile ever looking this good before, or that it ever made my stomach tighten in unexpected pleasure.

His hands are still gently holding my waist, sending a flush of warmth through my body. What is wrong me? It must still be the effects of my reading. This is only Francis the boy I went to school with. But he isn't the pimple faced, braces wearing, stocky boy I remember.

The braces he had done amazing things to his smile, and his face is lean and clear. Where did those dark blue eyes come from? I don’t remember feeling like you could get lost in them, never find your way out, nor want to.

He lets go of my waist and takes a step back, enabling me to take all of him in. 

Wow! 

Francis a man now and from what I can see, he's all man. A fierce powerhouse of domination and muscles. Suddenly I want run to hands down his chest and see just how fit he is.

He’s wearing black dress pants and a snug black The White Queen t-shirt, that shows off the man he’s become. His dark blonde hair, which in the dim light looks almost brown, is longish curling around his neck and ears. It looks soft and my hands are itching to run my fingers through it. Where did that come from?

Why can’t I breathe?

Why am I tingling all over?

What is wrong with me?

Maybe I had too much caffeine?

This is only Francis O’Donald, the nice boy from school, who came from a good family and went to our church. The same boy I rode the school bus with for six years and who let me copy his Spanish homework. The same Francis who was on the debate team with my twin brother Patrick and was my lab partner in chemistry, whom I may have accidentally burned with a Bunsen burner.

“Dance with me,” he says smiling, holding out his hand.

I shake myself a little. What did he say? I wasn't listening. I was too busy staring at the gorgeous man he’s grown into.

“What?” I blink up at him.

"Dance with me," he repeats, he smile brightening.

“Hello,” I say stupidly. Apparently this is going to be a theme for the evening. Let’s see how many stupid things Mary Goodwin can say to Francis O’Donald.

“Hiya,” he says, his eyes freely roaming over my body. I’m beginning to feel like I’m going to burn alive from the inside. “Let’s dance.”

Francis’s hand is held out, inviting me to take it. I am not sure why, but I get the feeling that this is one of those moments in life where everything could changes. If I take his hand, nothing will ever be the same.

My heart is pounding. I am excited, scared and about to truly fall down the rabbit hole.

“Okay,” I agree softly, grabbing my purse and tossing my phone back into it. Before I’m able to swing it over my shoulder, Francis grabs the strap.

“Matt, put Mary’s bag behind the bar for me,” he address the bartender, who’s standing nearby.

“Sure thing mate.”

“Thank you,” I say, releasing my purse into his care.

Francis holds out his hand again. Patiently he waits for me to place my sweating palm in his.

We walk towards the dance floor in silence and a strange sense of deja vu comes over me as we stop and face each other. I place my hands on his shoulders and stand there stiffly.

The music changes. 

Rihanna's song S&M Remix begins thumping though the speakers. The universe must be enjoying this!

Francis’ arm snakes around my waist and pulls me into his body, and I can feel a chuckle rumbling through his chest. I freeze at the contact, and with the sudden knowledge that this man is solid.

“We aren’t in 8th grade Mary, Sister Augustine isn’t going scold us if we’re touching while we dance,” he says grinning down at me.

“Are you so sure?”

“Yes, I can guarantee she's not here tonight.” His blue eyes sparkle and for a moment I stop breathing.

Looking into his eyes, I can barely come up with a coherent thought. Why have I never noticed them before?

“A-are you so sure, I heard she was no longer a nun.”

“Really?” He asks surprised.

“Yup, according to Facebook,” I say, and he chuckles slightly before a silence overcomes us. I am not sure what to say.

Everything that enters my mind sounds even more idiotic than the last thought and so I settle on musing stupidly, “You’re not on social media.” 

I definitely would have noticed if he was.

“No,” he laughs, continuing to sway back and forth.

I would probably be stalking him online by now if he was. Actually scratch that, there is no probably about it, I would definitely be stalking him. 

If he was on social media I would be liking his posts, drooling over his photos, wanting to stab any women he’s pictured with, and finding any excuse to slide into his DMs. I would most likely have an unhealthy obsession with him.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, breaking the the silence.

“I’m here on vacation with my friends,” I say pointing over towards the other side of the dance floor where Kay and Vicky are bumping and grinding with their latest conquests.

“I meant why are you in my club.”

“Your club, you come here that often do you?” I stop dancing, pulling back I stare at him.

“Yes, but it’s not what you’re thinking.” He gives me a teasing grin, rocking us back and forth. Clearly his dancing hasn’t improved in the intervening years, since our last dance in 8th grade. Not that I am complaining, I am freaking out enough just being in his arms.

“So this isn’t where you come to pick up women?” I say raising my eyebrows at him disbelieving, this isn’t exactly the type of place you go to meet up with your friend for pub quiz.

“Yes,” He chuckles, and I unconsciously stiffen in his arms. “But I’m using too busy running the place to actually play much.”

“You’re the manager?”

“No, I’m the owner.”

Wow, Francis O’Donald own a BDSM club.

I stop dancing—I couldn’t move—as I attempt to process what he’s just told me.

Didn't he used to be an alter server at church on Sunday and volunteer at the nursing home? The wonderfully tight t-shirt he's wearing now makes sense, and all I can do is stare up at him in what I assume is a shocked expression.

“So what are you doing in my club,” he asks again.

“M—my friends met those guys at the last pub we were at and they wanted to bring us here.” I manage to say without too much stuttering.

“Did they even tell you what kind of establishment this was?” His voice full of concern.

“Yes, though my friends didn’t exactly understand what that meant,” I say snickering.

“Did you?” He stops dancing and stares down at me, his face blank of expression. I can feel him studying me intently, though I’m not sure for what.

“Yeah—kinda,” I whisper, though I’m not sure what else to say.

Should I mention this is my first time inside of a club, or that I’ve only ever read about them before. Maybe mention that ever since I read my first BDSM novel, it has been a secret fantasy of mine to see the reality?

“What do you mean, kind of?” He asks his eyes blazing, the blue having gotten if possible unnaturally brighter. 

Looking over his shoulder, anywhere but his face, I'm finally able to spit out, “I—I mean, I’ve read about these—these sort of clubs before—you know in books.”

“You’ve read about BDSM Clubs?" he asks, and I can tell he's trying not to laugh.

“I’m a librarian—I read,” I mutter lamely.

“Eyes on me,” he says, his voice low and suddenly stern.

Wow!

His words send an icy chill of burning excitement through me. I am pretty sure, that’s the Dom voice I have read so much about, but have never heard myself.

After a deep breath, I am finally able to turn my head towards him. My eyes are wide with excitement, and he’s looking at me with interest. I look down and close my eyes, hiding from him.

“Mary, look at me,” he says gently. I open my eyes and his have changed again. Now they are sparkling, filled with what I can only think is excitement.

“Well little darling, you've come to the right place.”