“I’ll tell you over dinner. Tomorrow night at eight.”
* * * * *
The first time he saw Eva, he thought she was his friend Sheila. From the back they were nearly identical, with the same impossibly pale skin and blonde hair so fair it was almost silvery.
But then she’d turned, and Drew’s eyebrows had shot up. Far from sharing Sheila’s adorably oversized features, this girl had a face like a marble angel. Beautiful, classic, and at that moment so cold even the heat of August couldn’t soften its lines. Stunning.
The girl who wasn’t Sheila had been standing in front of one of the photos, holding a plastic glass of white wine and looking as though she would rather be just about anywhere else. Drew wondered what she was doing at the photography show, but then Sheila and her husband Danny walked over to greet her and it became obvious she was a friend of theirs.
Danny gestured Drew over, and as he approached he saw the girl wasn’t nearly as tall as Sheila, either. Similar build and coloring, similar proportions, but smaller all over. A delicate porcelain doll of a girl. When he got closer, he realized she barely came up to his shoulder.
“Eva Godfrey, Drew Brantley, you meet at last,” Danny said dramatically, with a bow and flourish.
“Pleasure,” Drew said, offering a hand that Eva took in a forceful, brief handshake. All business. Her fingers were as cool as her smile. Drew felt the urge to keep her hand in his, warm her up a bit.
“Mr. Brantley. Danny’s said very nice things about you.”
“Oh, it’s Drew, please. And the same to you. You run the Swift Gallery, right? Nice place.” Not that he spent much time in art galleries, but he had certainly looked in the window once or twice, and it seemed nice enough. He might be tempted to do more than just look in the window now.
“A bit too highbrow for the likes of us low art folks, I’m sure,” Danny quipped, obviously not too concerned.
Eva rolled her eyes at him. Drew noticed that when her gaze happened to fall on one of Danny’s photos, she quickly looked away.
The photographs could be startling to the uninitiated. On every wall of the large loft space, pictures depicted soft skin restrained by ropes in complex knots and woven patterns. Close-ups, for the most part, with only one or two shots in which the model’s face could be seen. But of course, everybody there already knew the model was Sheila.
“You’re not a fan?” Drew was surprised. The crowd at the small, private showing that night consisted primarily of friends and family, and it wasn’t as though Danny and Sheila’s friends tended to be closed-minded. In fact, the room felt not unlike the neutral conversation area at a BDSM gathering…though these participants were, in general, more heavily clothed.
“Evie doesn’t play,” Sheila said with a shrug. “Though she knows she has a standing invitation.”
“I appreciate your artistry,” the petite blonde said with a hint of wry humor. “And I’m here, being supportive.”
“Yes, you are, my love,” Danny said firmly, “and we appreciate your support. Sheila’s too big for her britches tonight and she’s got her brat hat on.”
As if to prove him correct, Sheila stuck her tongue out at her partner then grinned unapologetically. “You’ll take care of that later, I’m sure.”
Drew smiled, watching the easy banter between his friends with enjoyment. Theirs was a rare partnership, balancing equality and expertise in business with domination and submission in the bedroom, and a stunning juggling act of all those dynamics in their daily life together. Danny might have the upper hand when it came to bondage and sex, but he had no trouble deferring to Sheila’s business acumen or writing talent. They were a formidable team, but mostly Drew liked the way they approached life with such obvious relish and gleeful flouting of convention.
Drew’s own tastes were a fraction more conservative, but only a fraction. Domination and submission didn’t interest him much. His participation in the BDSM scene fell squarely into the category of bondage, and his expertise with ropes and knots made him Danny’s favorite assistant for some of the more complex suspension and predicament bondage the photographer liked to experiment with. Drew’s clean-cut, vanilla manner had earned him the affectionate nickname “Bondage Boy Scout” among Danny and Sheila’s generally edgy group of friends and fans. Few knew that the label was accurate; Drew and Danny had actually both been Eagle Scouts. There were no badges in the type of knots they were into now, however.
Drew knew Eva had a nickname, too, although it was not quite as affectionate. Predictably, she was “Ice Princess”. Drew watched her surreptitiously throughout the evening, wondering how apt the title actually was. Eva looked chilly enough. Her already cool, Grace Kelly looks were rendered even icier by her simple white shift dress and silver thong sandals. The only hint of warmer color about her was the long, thin watermelon-colored scarf draped loosely around her elegant neck. Just a sheer hint of silk, bringing out the color in her lips and cheeks a tiny bit.