Tender Mercies - By Kitty Thomas Page 0,3

at the words on the screen. Perhaps Lainey was right. Maybe she should find some nice master at a club somewhere who would follow the laws of safe, sane, and consensual or be ostracized from the ranks. She shook off the paranoia. If Lucas was bad, he wouldn’t be telling her about some girl that may have been murdered. It would hardly get him closer to getting her on a plane. She changed the subject.

Gracie343: You really haven’t taken a slave during the time you’ve been talking to me?

Stoneman: Nope.

Gracie343: Why not?

Five minutes passed before the little bar on the screen lit up and dinged at her.

Stoneman: Sorry. Had to let the dog out.

Grace waited another endless minute while the text at the bottom of the chat box said: Stoneman typing . . .

Stoneman: It’s a long process. There are occasionally sales on the island, but most men who want one do what I’m doing, find someone on the outside willing to be brought in. I know it’s a big risk. I don’t think I’d want a slave that agreed too quickly. It wouldn’t mean as much.

Gracie343: Okay.

So maybe he hadn’t found someone else. Or maybe he had. He could have a harem full of slaves and she wouldn’t know until she got there. Would sharing bother her? She wasn’t sure it mattered if she was willing to do this for real. And it wasn’t as if she was leaving much behind. A single family member. A single friend, unless you counted co-workers, which Grace didn’t. As for her career, the exciting world of retail wasn’t exactly setting her world aflame. Even if it was a high-end boutique with a twenty percent employee discount. Whoop-de-do.

Stoneman: I really need to get some work done. Going to have to close out the messenger.

Gracie343: Are you mad at me?

Stoneman: No, pet. But I’m not waiting forever. This long-distance domination isn’t cutting it for either of us. I want you in my bed. I’ll give you another month. But if you aren’t on a plane . . .

Gracie343: I know.

Stoneman: Are you going to be on that plane, Grace?

She stared at the chat box for a good three minutes. Then he logged out, perhaps tired of waiting on her answer. Maybe pissed. She didn’t know. She waited another thirty minutes like a pathetic puppy to see if he’d come back. Finally, convinced he was gone for the night, she signed out of the chat client.

***

Seven days passed and Lucas hadn’t been online. Grace had sent emails but stopped after three messages, deciding two was pathetic but three was just psycho.

He was definitely punishing her, giving her something to think about. She’d called out sick, unable to focus at work, and was currently flopped across her bed like she’d had a fit of the vapors.

A knock sounded on the door, and she wiped her eyes.

“Open up. It’s me.”

Lainey. Just what she didn’t need. Grace lay there for another few minutes, trying not to breathe, as if her friend had suddenly developed superpowers and would be able to hear her from out in the hallway.

“I know you’re in there. Mrs. Daines said you’ve been holed up in your apartment all day playing depressing music.”

True. Radiohead qualified as music to slit your wrists to. She knew she was being emo, but she just wanted to wallow in it for another day or two.

“Open up or I’ll go to the super. You know he’ll let me in. He thinks I’ve got a nice ass.”

“Fucking God, just GO,” Grace shouted from the bed. She was now hanging half off, her head leaning back, almost touching the floor.

“I’m going to get the super. I’m going to go get sexually harassed now, just for you.”

Grace rolled off the bed and struggled to stand. When she opened the door, Lainey stood there with a smile on her face.

“Put on something that screams submissive toy. We’re going to the club.”

Grace groaned and turned away. If it were any other person, the club would mean a trendy indie band and tossing back a few margaritas or doing body shots off each other, if they were feeling especially frisky. But Lainey meant the BDSM club.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Grace said.

“Well, I wasn’t being covert. I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

“I want Lucas.”

Lainey rolled her eyes and steered her by the elbow back into her bedroom where the kinky clothes lived. “Lucas hasn’t contacted you in a week. He’s done with