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sweetbreads and cakes,” he added as he indicated the tray Black-Haired Hotness held.
    Accepting a generous-sized mocha, Jeanie took a sip. Ah, the good stuff.
     
    “Y’all definitely know how to do hospitality. You sure you’re not Southern?” Jayha asked.
     
    “We’re sure, but we accept that for the compliment that it is,” Blond Hotness said.
     
    “And you should take it as a compliment. Not everyone is born Southern. Sit a spell and talk to us for a minute,” she invited.
     
    “We do not wish to intrude—” he began.
     
    “You won’t be intruding; besides, we’re going to need you to top off our mugs in a little bit anyway,” Shara said.
     
    They sat.
     
    “This is damn good coffee. We’re going to have to make you honorary Southerners,” Raelynn said.
     
    “And we’re not even going to make you marry your first cousin,” Jeanie said.
     
    “Well, since we’ve been inducted into your family, now is probably a good time to tell you the rules of our family.”
     
    “Besides no swinging naked from the chandeliers or stealing the towels, what other rules exist?” Laura asked.
     
    “Hey, I was going to steal the towels, so why’d you bring that up?”Dréa pouted.
     
    “Well, this is an, um, different kind of resort,” Blond Hotness said.
     
    “Different how?” Reana asked.
     
    “An adults-only resort. We require the utmost privacy for our guests and staff and thus have non-disclosure forms all are required to sign.”
     
    “What kind of weird shit are y’all into?” Jeanie asked.
     
    “Nothing weird—this is a resort where individuals are free to explore their sexuality.”
     
    “While I don’t give a shit what consenting adults get into, I’m not only married, but I’m married to a crazy motherfucker who’ll tear your whole country a new asshole, so I suggest y’all keep your dicks and hands to yourselves,” Dréa said.
     
    “And if we find out you have something nefarious planned for us, we’re going to have our friends—who know where we are—fuck up the rest of your Scandinavian neighbors,” Jayha said.
     
    “Please, there’s no need for violence,” Blond Hotness said. “Might I continue explaining?”
     
    “Yeah, but tread carefully or you might wake up in a pile of Texas-style ass whipping. In case you didn’t know: Don’t Mess With Texas,” Laura said.
     
    “TresNi is a getaway for couples who want to rediscover themselves and for those who wish to explore other facets of their sexuality. We often host various workshops. This week we’re hosting a BDSM workshop.”
     
    “So far, so good. We won’t stop you,” Raelynn said. “One thing Southerners are good at doing is minding our own damn business.”
     
    “And fucking peeps up. Don’t forget that part,” Jeanie threw in.
     
    “The problem is, being that this is BDSM Week, everyone attending is required to wear leather.”
     
    “What if we don’t have any leather with us?” Raelynn asked.
     
    “We’d have to punish you for being naughty,” Blond Hotness rasped.
     
    “Ah, little boy. You overestimate your abilities and underestimate mine,” Shara said. “I’m nobody’s sub.”
     
    “Except when you’re under your Mr. You begging him to fuck you harder, longer, faster,” Raelynn threw in.
     
    “Ah, sookie sookie,” Dréa laughed.
     
    “Shut. Up. I’m seven feet tall—” Shara began.
     
    “And three hundred pounds,” the girls finished. “We know, Napoleon.”
     
    “We can mess with Shara later…and tell Mr. Her that she said she was his dom, but first we need to straighten this out,” Jayha said.
     
    Turning to the trio of hotness, she fired off a question.
     
    “Barring you trying to ‘punish’ us for failing to wear leather, what are the alternatives?”
     
    “You could wear nothing. That’s also permissible at TresNi.”
     
    “Or there’s option b,” Brunette Hotness said. “You could wear a strapping Dane who would like nothing