-Molly’s POV-
I stared up at Jean-Pierre, unable to decide what to tell him. I didn't know how to explain what Scott was to me. I didn't even know WHAT Scott was to me suddenly. Either way, Jean-Pierre's demands were starting to really irritate me, to the point where I was about ready to tell him exactly where he could shove it.
“Sir,” I began softly, reminding myself to breathe. “If you recall, you did not tell me much about where we were going or what was happening. You BARELY told me what to expect, except to sit down and shut up. Plus, I had no idea Scott was going to be here. I would have warned you had I known, and I might have refused to come here at all.”
Jean-Pierre looked a bit perturbed by my reasonable answer. I supposed he probably would have preferred if I had simply simpered and pleaded for his forgiveness. But that really wasn’t my style, especially since I had done nothing wrong.
“You really need to learn some manners,” Jean-Pierre stated in disappointment.
“Sir, I believe I have been as polite as I can be in this situation. I'm starting to think that maybe it’s time for me to go home,” I said, getting ready to stand up.
Jean-Pierre immediately backed down. His face softened and touched my cheek gently. “No, no, no, ma belle. Forgive me. You are right that I have been a bit rash. I should have realized that you were rattled a bit. We will not be playing tonight. We will just sit and let you take in everything.”
I hesitated. I didn’t want to stick around with my panties hanging out for all to see, and the position I was in was not the most comfortable. But I couldn’t deny my curiosity about all that was going around us. If it really wasn’t impolite for me to look around, maybe I could stick around a little while.
“Just a little bit longer,” I agreed.
“There’s a good slave!” Jean-Pierre complimented me.
“Please, don’t call me that,” I told him gently. “I don’t like it, and it’s slightly irritating.”
Jean-Pierre frowned at me and then turned away to sit on the couch once more. “Unless you reject the word entirely, I will continue to call you that because it pleases me. That is the way of things.”
I stiffened at his brush off and looked out over the play area. A woman was strapping a man to a large wooden X, and she had a whip wrapped around her torso. There was very little doubt in my mind that she was about to use that nasty-looking thing on him, and for a moment, I had a pleasing image of her doing that same… to Jean-Pierre.
I shoved that down, reminding myself that he may be annoying. But he allowed me to observe something I had been secretly curious about since the first time I had picked up my first erotic novel.
I had always wanted to find someone to try the acts I had read about. I was wondering if maybe this was that moment. Obviously, Jean-Pierre was not opposed to a little kink and seemed more than willing to explore such things with me. Did it honestly matter that I was taking exception to the term he decided to use for me? I had heard that term in a few books that I had read and always hated it. But it wasn’t unusual for Doms to call their subs that. But there were others that I prefer much more than that.
Maybe if I told him a few of the ones that I did like, we could come to some sort of agreement, and he could stop using that damned word.
“Sir, I appreciate that you like the word slave. But I prefer terms like pet, little one, dear, even sub if those are too enduring for you,” I offered him.
Jean-Pierre shook his head. “Unless you deny me the name, I will continue using it. It is my preferred term.”
“I don’t particularly care for it, Sir,” I repeated firmly.
He waved me off. “My answer is the same. Now watch the entertainment. One of the subs is about to be punished. Probably because the slave talked back to her Dom.”
There it was. I thought to myself. There was the subtle threat of punishment if I didn’t let Jean-Pierre have his way, like it or not. My gut was telling me that there was something wrong with that statement.
I looked over at the sub being chewed out by her Dom for something. I was very curious about what she had done to get the lecture. She looked very sorry for whatever she had done, and I could see the affection that her Dom had for her even while he continued to look firm. I could have sworn I saw the man say something like: “I don’t want to do this, but you need to learn.”
There was no animosity or anger in the Dom’s face. I had seen more anger in Jean-Pierre’s face tonight than I saw in this Dom’s face at any point.
“Oh, I do so hope that he spanks her,” Jean-Pierre said, almost on the verge of what sounded like a chuckle.
I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to see the punishment, and I certainly wasn’t as eager as he was. I looked away, turning my attention back in the direction I had last seen Scott. Even though I wanted to pretend Scott was not in the building, sometimes I swore I could feel his gaze on me.
As if sensing my gaze, the crowd seemed to part, and I saw the bar where Scott had been told to go relax by the man, Laurent. Laurent was there along with the gorgeous woman that still made my temper spike slightly, but there was no sign of Scott.
The woman tending the bar looked up in time to lock eyes with me. I quickly looked away, not wanting to seem like I was staring even though I was.
What had happened to Scott? Where had he gone? Had he found one of these sexy, half-dressed subs and taken them off to play? Since when was HE interested in BDSM? Although he had always had the aura of a Dom, I couldn’t believe that he was actually into all of this. I had a million questions I wanted to ask him.
But now he was just freaking gone.
The need to find him and talk to him suddenly took precedence over everything else. I couldn’t care less what was going on with the sub and Dom, which seemed to have taken all of Jean-Pierre’s attention.
“Sir,” I called to Jean-Pierre. “I need to go speak to Scott. May I go find him, Sir?”
Jean-Pierre waved me off almost carelessly. Obviously, what was going on in front of him was much more interesting than I was at the moment, and I took advantage of his preoccupation. Before he changed his mind, I stood and scrambled off towards the bar.
I had no idea where Scott was, but I had a feeling that Maître Laurent did, and he did say to come to him if I had any questions.