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orientation.” She smiled. “
Almost
. And I promise if I’m ever in the mood to be topped, you’re the first man I’ll call.”
    He laughed. “I’ll hold you to that. Now, would you like me to introduce you around?”
    “I’ll take you up on that later. Right now I’d like to have a glass of wine and get
     the lay of the land, so to speak.”
    “Understood.” He turned and crooked his finger at a young man poised at the end of
     the bar. “Tell Greg to pour Mistress B a glass of my private reserve.”
    “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”
    “I rate the private reserve on my first night?”
    “I imagine a woman of your stature doesn’t drink house wine.”
    Her stature. There was another reminder on why she’d chosen the mask and become Mistress
     B. Then no one knew her as a corporate executive and an heiress to billions; they
     saw her as formidable for an entirely different reason. She flashed Master Merrick
     a frosty smile. “My stature in the club is Mistress B, and I’m perfectly content drinking
     house wine. But I do appreciate your gift as a one-time-only welcome gesture.”
    His eyebrows rose. Then he smiled. “Understood. And I see that you and I will get
     along very well indeed, Mistress.”
    After Master Merrick handed her the glass of wine, he took his leave.
    Shiori sipped her wine. This definitely wasn’t the house special. She looked around
     and realized she was still getting curious stares. It would be interesting to see
     who approached her first. When she turned, she realized part of the reason for the
     attention she’d garnered was the young submissive sitting at her feet. “You may look
     at me,” she said softly.
    He tipped his head back and gazed at her with wonder.
    Oh, how she’d missed that. “What’s your name?”
    “Justin, Mistress.”
    “Well, Justin. Why are you sitting at my feet?”
    “Because I want to serve you tonight, Mistress.”
    She took another long sip of the luscious red wine and considered him. He was young—twenty-two
     at the most. He had the blond hair, sharply defined cheekbones, and icy blue eyes
     she associated with a Nordic gene pool. He wore a tiny pair of black athletic shorts
     and the green bracelet that identified him as a submissive.
    “I can strip so you can decide whether my body pleases you,” he offered.
    “Tell me, Justin. Do you have a preference on whether you submit to a Master or a
     Mistress?”
    “No, Mistress, no preference.”
    Such a shame. She didn’t waste time with men who went both ways. She smoothed her
     hand over his soft hair. “I appreciate your honesty. You’re dismissed.”
    He lowered his head, and his shoulders slumped. “Thank you, Mistress, for the consideration.”
    She wandered over to the bar.
    The bartender smiled at her and offered his hand. “I’m Greg.”
    She shook his hand, noticing he didn’t wear a bracelet. “Mistress B. I’m new to this
     club, and I’m not exactly sure what that signifies.” She gestured to the black band
     around his biceps.
    “The black bands are worn by security, although that’s a loose interpretation of what
     I do. I float between keeping an eye on the rooms to make sure the rules are being
     followed, to pouring drinks, to providing certain services to submissives as well
     as Masters and Mistresses.”
    “‘Certain services’ sounds ominous.”
    He shrugged. “It means sometimes I function as a third player in threesomes. Or mete
     out discipline. I intervene if a submissive uses their safe word in a scene. Pretty
     much jack-of-all-trades.”
    “So is it like an apprentice level? Before you become a Master?”
    “No. Black bands are their own station here. Not everyoneaspires to be Dominant. Or submissive. We are the peacekeepers, and we keep the balance
     in check. We are neutral.”
    “It’s the first I’ve heard of that kind of role in a club like this.”
    “Merrick doesn’t define the club, except for the privacy policy. So the members