But the Damian situation was different. It was as though Damian had never existed as anything but a figment of her suddenly oversexed mind. And Shannon wasn't going to bring him up. She didn't want the doctor to think he wasn't enough for her. He was. Still. She'd spent nights fantasizing about the two of them taking her together, both of them inside her at once. And she couldn't seem to shake the fantasy no matter how hard she tried.
On her afternoons off she'd developed a relaxed and comforting routine. She deposited her check, went to Dome for lunch and a massage and mani-pedi, shopped a little, had a light dinner and then met Lindsay back in his office at nine, refreshed and ready for the long drive home. She sometimes napped on the way, knowing he'd keep her up half the night with his insatiable demands.
Lindsay worked late on Fridays, and she was grateful for the time to be able to go out and feel like a normal person for once. She'd started bringing a change of clothes on Fridays so she wouldn't feel so self-conscious in public, dressed in the high-end slut wear he liked to keep her in at the office. For her afternoons off it was soft comfy blue-jeans and a T-shirt.
But today was different. Lindsay had told her to be back at six-thirty but hadn't said why. Maybe a couple of his appointments had canceled and he wanted to go home early.
When Shannon got back to the office a few minutes before he'd asked, she found Lindsay standing in his office, waiting. She gulped in air at the sight of him. He wore a tux. She'd never seen him this dressed up before, and he made it look good.
He glanced down at a gold watch on his wrist. “Cutting it close aren't you?”
She didn't reply because she didn't know what to say that wouldn't sound sarcastic and just get her in trouble. He tolerated a lot of snark from her and even seemed to enjoy it, but this evening his mood was different. She could tell he just wanted her to do whatever he asked and not make a fuss about it.
That was when she noticed the large box sitting on his desk. It was black with a fat pink satin bow and a logo from one of the fancy boutique shops downtown. Going by his attire, she could guess the contents of the box.
“Are we going out?” She asked stupidly, unable to think of a single more intelligent thing to say. The surprise of the turn of the evening's events had apparently leeched all the smart out of her brain.
Even though they were in the city three days a week, he'd never taken her out anywhere fancy before. Lindsay looked really good in a tux. Even more posh and sophisticated than normal. The idea of being on this man's arm in some fancy public place sent a thrill of anticipation through her.
“We're going to a private art show opening at a nearby gallery,” he said. “It's invitation only, and the artist will be there. He doesn't mingle with the public.”
“Oh?” Shannon asked, curious.
“He's a big deal in the tech industry. But his art is under another name. He likes to keep things private and separate.” Lindsay's gaze shifted to the box on his desk. “Open the box and put the dress on.”
Had he gone and shopped for it himself? Maybe he'd finished with patients much earlier today than she thought. Or maybe he'd paid someone to go get it?
Shannon carefully untied the ribbon and opened the box, pushing aside silver and black tissue paper. What she found inside was the most gorgeous red evening gown she'd ever seen. She pulled it out of the box to get a better look, but then her face fell.
“I c-can't wear this. It's backless.” She wished she could wear it. She wanted to wear it. It was stunning and perfect. But there was just no way. People would stare. You couldn't wear a formal evening gown that showcased scars like that. It would be ugly. She would be ugly.
“There's more,” he said, ignoring her protest.
Shannon pulled away another layer of tissue paper to find an elegant black silk wrap.
“You won't need it most of the night,” he continued. “It's dark outside, and I'm told the exhibit room will be dark as well—it's part of the show. Trust me, no one will be focused on you at the opening, and even if they were, they wouldn't notice the scars in the dark.”
Lindsay placed a pair of black heels on the desk beside the open box. “Get dressed. No bra tonight, but you will wear this under the dress.” He took a sexy black thong from his pocket and dropped it beside the shoes.
She expected him to stay and watch her dress like some sort of reverse strip-tease, but he left her alone to get ready. She wished she could look at the dress in a full-length mirror, though as soon as she had that thought she was grateful that she couldn't because even with the comfort of a wrap to cover up and the darkness he promised, Shannon wasn't sure she'd have the nerve to wear this dress if she looked at herself in a mirror first.
A few minutes later, Lindsay returned with a black velvet box. It was somewhat thin and square but not small. Shannon's breath hitched. She opened it and let out a gasp. Even knowing what was in the box, seeing it was something else. It was her collar. Just like Mina and Julie and Annette. Except that the band on Shannon's was thinner, more discrete.
The collar was a platinum band with four rows of tiny square cut diamonds going all the way around it. The light caught the diamonds, sending flecks of light onto the walls as she turned the collar this way and that.
Lindsay took it from the box and secured it around her throat. Then he withdrew a small hand-held mirror from his desk drawer and held it in front of her, no doubt anticipating she'd want to see it.
“You take it off to shower and that is the only time you take it off, understood?”
“Yes, Master.” She ran her fingertips over the metal, giddy. She'd never owned a piece of jewelry this nice in her entire life. Shannon liked the thinner band. It was subtle and classy. No one would ever look at it and suspect what it meant. It wasn't that she was ashamed, but she still wanted to blend in with the rest of the world when she was out on Friday afternoons.
The band was strong and no doubt as sturdy as the collars the other permanent pets at the house wore, but Shannon felt like she could go out in public for lunch wearing this one without stares. And because it wasn't enormous and the design was simple, she could wear it with an evening gown, like tonight, or jeans and a scoop-neck T-shirt—as though she were intentionally going for some chic casual glam combination.
“Thank you, it's beautiful,” she finally said.
He just smiled at her and offered his arm.
Lindsay guided Shannon into the gallery, his hand resting on her lower back. Against her protests, he'd made her carefully fold the silk wrap and place it in a handbag he'd purchased to go with the rest of it. The bag had been waiting for her in the car. Now she clutched it like a lifeline as he shielded her, letting her walk just in front of him under the street lamps which illuminated the sidewalk.
The house had offered to train a girl for Lachlan Niche—tonight going under the artist name, Jacob Hunter. The tech tycoon had entertained the idea briefly, but in the end he'd politely declined and soon after had stumbled upon the woman who now wore a collar around her throat and seemed to adore him.
Word was that Saskia had tried to run a con on him, forging a piece of art he'd paid her to acquire for him from the owner.