Chapter Two

 

 

 

“You are the most accident-prone, clumsy, hopeless friend I ever had! Here, take this.”

Rowan took possession of an ice pack handed to him by his friend and colleague Ed Sperrit. He pressed the cool gel pouch to his eye. “You’re a chef. Why aren’t you giving me steak?”

“Like I’d waste a good piece of sirloin on your useless mug. Now shut up and keep that ice on your face. It’ll help with the swelling.” Ed stood, hands on hips, five feet two inches of redheaded annoyance. “And I’m not a fully qualified chef…yet.”

“Pudding boy then.” Rowan flinched as Ed smacked him on the shoulder. “Hey! I’m already injured.”

“Call me pudding boy again and you’ll have more to worry about than a black eye and a sprained wrist. I create magnificent desserts to tantalize the taste buds of my discerning clients.”

“Custard. You make custard.”

“Philistine.”

“Food snob.”

“I can own that.” Ed extracted a tubular bandage from the first aid kit. “This is the best I can do for your wrist. The breakroom is not equipped for major emergencies.” He slid the stretchy fabric onto Rowan’s arm. “Now tell me again how you managed to get in such a state.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Rowan declared.

“It never is.”

“Hey!”

“So, you weren’t the person who fell over a crate in the wine cellar, grazing both knees like a four year old in the playground?”

“I saved that bottle of Chambertin Grand Cru.” Rowan felt he should defend himself. The wine had been worth a small fortune.

“And you weren’t the person Elton chased into the shrubbery where you ripped your trousers, cut your thigh and exposed your SpongeBob underpants to Mrs. Templeton-Jones?”

“I was taking snacks to her grandchildren. How was I to know Elton had a thing for chocolate spread sandwiches? And besides, she told me it was the most fun she’d had in years.”

“And this time?” Ed slumped in one of the breakroom’s well-worn armchairs.

“Royston Arkwright wanted fresh ice for his malt whiskey, so I took up a bucket but he was in the bath… I was trying not to look at his bits but I had to get the ice in his glass without dropping it on him and those tongs are so fiddly. Anyway, I got two cubes in the drink but then the bubbles parted—that was a sight I will never forget—so I took a step back. The floor was wet and I slipped. The ice bucket went flying so there were cubes everywhere and when I tried to get up I fell down again. I caught my face on the corner of the sink…”

“And is Mr. Vickers as big as his ego suggests?” Ed fell around laughing.

“Let’s just say that forestry is an appropriate industry for him. He must be right at home with all that wood.” Rowan tried not to laugh because it hurt too much. “How does it look?” He took the ice pack away from his face.

“I think Alvin will have you locked in the linen closet doing stocktakes for the rest of the week,” Ed replied.

Rowan groaned. “Oh God. I have an interview on Friday. What are they going to think?”

“What? You didn’t tell me! For that place in the New Forest? The den of kink?”

“It’s called The Retreat, Ed, and I only got the letter this morning. I didn’t have a chance to tell you yet.”

“Wow. You’re really going to do it? I mean, I know you’re into all that weird stuff, but are you sure it’s what you want?”

“BDSM is not weird! It’s an alternative lifestyle and, yes, I’m sure. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look after someone.”

“And get your arse spanked in return?”

“Maybe.” Rowan’s cheeks heated. “I have to get the job first.” He flexed his aching wrist and winced. “How long does it take for a sprain to heal?”

“Do I look like a nurse? I’ve used ten minutes of my precious break time patching you up. How about you show some gratitude and make me a coffee?”

Rowan shook his head, immediately regretting the action which sent pain shooting through his face. “I think I could have managed. But, out of the goodness of my heart, I will make coffee. Only because I want one too.” He dragged himself up. “And ibuprofen. I need that as well.”

The junior staff’s breakroom was in the manor’s cellar, the only natural light coming from a grilled window at ceiling height. Despite the gloom, it was a comfortable space with cast-off furniture from the hotel lounges, a well-equipped kitchen and a full-sized pool table. Rugs and lamps made it cozy. At eleven in the morning, Rowan and Ed had the room to themselves. The housekeeping staff were hard at work getting vacated rooms ready for new guests, while the two women on reception would be checking people out. Ed only had a short breathing space before he had to get back to lunch prep. He worked an awkward split shift with a few hours off in the afternoon while Rowan went through from seven in the morning until four in the afternoon, a pattern he worked for four weeks before switching to evenings when he worked from four till midnight. He and Ed usually managed one break together each day.

Rowan spooned fresh coffee into a cafetière. “I’ll miss you if I get this job.”

“Of course you’ll get it. You’re cute, you have this whole innocent vibe going on, and you like taking orders from men in leather.” Ed grinned.

“Who said anything about leather? Though I do like the smell. Rubber too—stand me in a garage with a pile of new tires and I’m happy.”

“Christ, you’re weird. Most people love the smell of fresh-baked bread or melting chocolate…” Ed sniffed the air. “Or coffee. But rubber? I suppose it’s good in case they squish you into one of those latex suits or a mask.”

“Not all Doms have a rubber fetish.” Rowan handed Ed a mug of coffee. He took a sip before moaning his appreciation.

“Oh, that’s good. So what will you have to do at this interview? Is it at The Retreat?”

“It’s in London at a club called The Underground. The club’s owner also owns The Retreat. It’s much easier to get to—they sent me an open train ticket so I can work out the best time to leave. I have to confirm I’m coming by email, but the letter didn’t say anything else. I suppose they’ll ask me questions just like any other job interview.”

“It’s not your average hotel job, though, is it? So I doubt it’ll be an average interview.” Ed laughed. “I’m picturing you kneeling in your underwear while some guy in a harness flogs you between questions.”

“And this is why I don’t take you along when I go to a club.” Rowan chewed on a nail. “I never thought about it. They might want me to take my clothes off.”

“Better make sure you wear your kinkiest undies.” Ed snorted coffee.

“My supportive best friend. I don’t have anything kinky and Friday’s my only day off. I won’t have time to shop.” Rowan thought about the contents of his underwear drawer, inducing a state of near panic.

“You have heard of the internet?” Ed asked. “And express delivery. Do you need a brown paper bag?”

“No…no.” Rowan swallowed more coffee. “I didn’t think this through, did I? I mean, I understand what the job entails and mentally I’m prepared for that but there are hoops to jump through before that stage. I want it so badly. I need to think about how I’m going to handle things if I don’t get it because chances are I’m going to screw up this interview. That’s if they don’t take one look at the state of me and ask me to leave.”

“Rory will be able to lend you some makeup—you can cover up the bruising so it’ll hardly notice. And they will want you. You have to believe in yourself. You told me once that being submissive doesn’t mean you’re weak. Time to listen to yourself.”

Rowan smiled. “You remembered something I told you. That has to be a good omen.”

“It was a one-off. Don’t let it swell your head.” Ed swallowed the last of his coffee. “I have to get going or chef will be finding new and sadistic ways to abuse me. I know that’s your thing but I’m as vanilla as my custard.”

“Jen loves you. She won’t hurt you. Much.” Rowan pictured the feisty head chef brandishing a ladle. She was short, plump and had the attitude of a starving Rottweiler when it came to food. Possessive didn’t begin to describe her attachment to her precious kitchen. She did have a soft spot for Ed, though. She worked him like a dog but only because she wanted him to be the best chef he could be. She and Alvin got along well, commiserating with each other over the failings of their respective apprentices whilst plotting ways to make them work harder.

“I’ll see you later,” Rowan said. “Rory and I are having Chinese tonight if you want to come round.”

Ed made his way to the door.

“I don’t finish until nine-thirty tonight so I’ll have to take a rain check. But give me a call if you need help shopping for underwear. I have links to some great brands.”

Rowan could hear him laughing all the way down the corridor.

 

* * * *

 

That evening, Rowan sat at the kitchen table with his aunt, laptop open in front of him. “I had no idea there was so much choice when it came to clothing that hardly ever gets seen.” He clicked on another link.

“I think the general idea is that it does get seen.” Rory lifted her glass of wine in a toast. “How did Alvin react to your little accident today?”

“I think it’s safe to say that my boss was not impressed by the state of his assistant. He sent me to the silver room, where we keep the hotel’s banqueting plate, with a tin of polish, some rags and orders not to be seen for the rest of the day.”

“Has he not learnt yet how much you enjoy cleaning stuff? Freak.”

“Hey! I like the smell of polish and the way the silver glows once I’m done with it. And he does know, but he’d never admit to being that kind and thoughtful. It’s against his religion.” Rowan prodded his bandaged wrist. “Made this ache, though. It was a long day.”

“And I suppose you’ve been worrying about your interview too?”

Rowan poured himself a second glass from the bottle of Merlot he and Rory had shared while they’d eaten their celebratory Chinese feast. “Ed didn’t help.”

“You need to ignore his teasing. That boy is a brat. Always has been, always will be.”

Shrugging, Rowan brought up another page. He nibbled on his lower lip before adding a pair of wet-look latex shorts to his basket. He deleted them, then added them again. “He made me think about what I might have to do at the interview. This isn’t your average job I’m going for. I don’t think they’ll be asking me where I see myself in ten years’ time.” He added plain blue boxer briefs and a black silk thong to his order then paid before he could change his mind again. He’d decide which ones to wear on the day.

“Carey Hoffman is a reputable businessman.” Rory ran a hand through the wild tangle of her hair.

“You checked him out?” Rowan wasn’t shocked. Rory always looked out for him.

“I did. He’s a very rich man in a committed relationship with a well-known photographer. As well as The Retreat and The Underground, he owns several properties in London. He’s a philanthropist as well as a businessman—mainly supporting charities related to kids. A friend of mine in the Metropolitan Police told me the club is well run and there’s a zero-tolerance policy on drugs. The membership is a who’s who of the gay BDSM scene. Mr. Hoffman has a lot of very influential friends.”

“I’ve only been there once and that was on an open night. I couldn’t afford the membership even if I wanted to—not and save for my own place, anyway.”

“You don’t live close enough to make paying a monthly fee worth it.”

“They recruit for wait staff, bartenders and kitchen crew but that’s not what I’m interested in. I don’t want to live in London either. It’s noisy and there are too many people.” Rowan shuddered.

“You’re just a sweet little country boy at heart, aren’t you?” Rory took another swig of her wine. “Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

“I’m not totally naïve. The Retreat is about as exclusive as it gets. Even the website is secret—potential guests are sent a confidential link. I get to list anything I’m not prepared to do in the contract and there are only a few things that are nonnegotiable.”

“You get the job and I want to see the contract.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Rory…”

“Also nonnegotiable, Rowan.”

Rowan knew a stubborn, immoveable object when he saw it. He sighed. “Fine. If I get the job—and that’s a big if—I will let you see the contract before I sign anything.”

“Good. What’s the point of having a lawyer as an aunt if you don’t take advantage?” Rory grinned. “And I really want to see what’s in it.”

Rowan groaned. He loved Rory to bits, but she had absolutely no concept of privacy or personal space. There was no lock on his bathroom door and he’d lost count of the number of times she had burst in on him. Still, he had to admit she was probably right and it was a good idea to have her check over the legal paperwork if he got the job. He would just have to close his eyes and hum a tune while she was reading the details of what he might be required to do.

“I think I’m going to go to bed,” Rowan said. “It’s been a long day and I’m really tired.”

“Soak a flannel in cold water and keep it on your eye for a while,” Rory advised. “It might help.” She didn’t sound convinced. “Sweet dreams.” Her wicked laugh gave Rowan a clue as to what kind of dreams she was imagining.

He headed up to the attic, relieved to have some time to himself. He wasn’t the most sociable of people, preferring the company of a good book to a crowd. The only exception to that was the occasional night out he treated himself to at his nearest BDSM club. There he found he could tolerate the press of bodies, the heat and the noise. He loved the way the place excited his senses with the smell of men and leather, the atmospheric lighting and the tactile furnishings. It wasn’t anywhere close to the luxurious standards of The Underground, but every now and again it gave him the chance to sample the lifestyle he craved. Not that he was particularly adventurous on his rare outings. He tended to observe, occasionally plucking up the courage to take part in a scene with one of the club Doms. It was why he was so attracted to the job at The Retreat. Working at a club didn’t appeal to him, but the exclusive nature of The Retreat did. He could handle a party every now and again but in his mind The Retreat was an oasis of tranquility. He hoped he would get to see it.

Rowan stripped off for a quick shower. He didn’t risk dancing this time—he had enough bruises already—just lathered and rinsed. He dried himself then retrieved his favorite pair of flannel pajamas from his pillow. The attic got cold at night and he was prepared to sacrifice fashion for warmth. He snuggled beneath the covers, pulling Bilbo close. He had to adjust his position to avoid making his wrist ache any more than it already did but nothing could dampen his excitement.

“How am I expected to sleep, Bilbo?” The bear gave him an enigmatic look. “There’s so much stuff bouncing around in my head. If I count sheep I’ll probably reach a million.” He gave his pillow a good pounding until he was satisfied with its shape. “Of course, if I get this job I might have to sleep on the floor or in a cage. The client might want to chain me to the bed. But don’t worry, I get my own room as part of the contract so I’ll be able to take you with me.” He giggled. “I might have to hide you. I don’t think the average Dom would appreciate a sub who still sleeps with his teddy.” Rowan closed his eyes and imagined his ideal man. He wasn’t ashamed that the whole tall, dark and handsome stereotype pushed his buttons. His fingers found their way around his cock as if they had a mind of their own. He stroked it a few times, bringing it to hardness. If I was submitting to a Dom, he wouldn’t let me come. He’d make me suffer. His pleasure would be paramount. Rowan shivered at the idea. He took his fingers away from his erection, counted to ten then sighed. It was no good—he didn’t have the willpower to resist the needs of his body. A few rough jerks and a hot gush of liquid filled his hand. The orgasm fulfilled a need but wasn’t that satisfying because he had given in. He used the tissues he kept next to his bed to clean up then settled down to sleep in the hope that his dreams would be full of Dominant, masterful men.

 

* * * *

 

Three days later Rowan sat in the corner of a quiet train carriage en route to London. In his small backpack he had a change of clothes—a precaution given the likelihood of tripping over into a puddle—and some snacks. Bilbo, his good luck charm, was firmly wedged at the bottom of the bag. Rowan had treated himself to a couple of new thrillers for his Kindle and found that the psychological tension of the plot in the one he was reading relieved his anxiety about his destination. He’d had an early morning phone call from Ed giving him all kinds of useless advice then Rory had dropped him at the station, throwing in her own dose of wise words. As neither of them would be with him at the interview, Rowan filed their comments away in a dusty corner of his mind where they shared cell space with a few of Alvin’s rants and quite a few of Rowan’s mother’s favorite phrases, which included such gems as ‘if the wind changes your face will stay like that’.

Rowan snorted. Worried that someone might have heard him, he glanced around the carriage. Only a few seats were occupied and most of his fellow passengers seemed to have earbuds in or were wired to various electronic devices. He went back to his book but found that he was reading the same page over and over again so he gave up and stared out of the window at the scenery rushing past. It wasn’t much more than a green blur at the speed the train was going and it made Rowan feel a bit woozy. He wasn’t the best traveler in the world—vehicles tended to make him feel a bit claustrophobic—but he didn’t usually suffer from motion sickness. He closed his eyes and the unpleasant sensation faded. The rattle of the refreshment cart brought him back to alertness. A cup of coffee seemed like a good idea. The girl pushing the cart was grateful for his custom and stopped to chat while she made his drink. She slipped him a chocolate chip cookie and winked as she trundled off down the carriage. Rowan decided it had to be a sign that the day was going to go well.

The coffee was too strong but drinking it and munching his treat killed some time and Rowan was surprised when the train pulled into Euston. He scrambled onto the platform, just managing to avoid wandering into a metal pillar because he wasn’t looking where he was going. He had an hour or so to find his way across London on the Tube. He’d researched the journey in advance and had decided to take the Victoria line to Victoria station then the District or Circle line to Westminster station, which was the closest one to the club. He could have walked the length of Victoria Street but didn’t want to get hot and sweaty before his interview.

The press of people below ground was astonishing considering the rush hour was long past. Rowan had to stand on the Tube but enjoyed people-watching. It was only in London he got to witness the endless variety of humanity. He spoke a bit of schoolboy French but couldn’t identify half the languages being spoken around him. The carriage was a microcosm of the global population, it seemed. Rowan was glad to make it back to the surface, amazed at the world beneath his feet.

He used an app on his phone to navigate the last few streets and found the entrance to The Underground without difficulty. The door was discreet and could have led to an accountancy firm or legal chambers rather than a BDSM club. When Rowan went inside he found himself in a corridor with a desk at the end, manned by a good-looking redhead who stood as Rowan approached.

“Hi, I’m Christian. Welcome to The Underground. Are you here for an interview?”

“Hi…um, yes.” Rowan’s nerves got the best of him and he didn’t know what else to say.

“Could you confirm your name and address for me?”

Rowan did as he was asked and Christian checked against a piece of paper on his desk.

“Thanks, that all checks out. You can relax.” Christian gave him a warm smile. “They aren’t that scary.”

“Um, who?”

“Your interview panel,” Christian explained. “They want you to do well. They don’t bite… Well, not much and not without permission.” He grinned. “As you’re here for an appointment you don’t need to wear a club collar. I’ll ring the bar to let them know you’re on your way and someone will meet you at the lift. Actually, I’ll take you myself. Let me call down and get someone to cover here for a few minutes.”

He made a quick phone call, informing whoever was on the other end that Rowan had arrived, and asking for a stand-in.

“Shouldn’t be long. New places can be confusing. I wouldn’t want you to get lost.”

A bearded man emerged from the lift then made his way to the desk. He ruffled Christian’s hair.

“Ten minutes, then I have to get back to the playrooms.”

“Thanks, Paul.” Christian slipped from behind the desk.

“I appreciate it. I’ve been here once before, but I don’t really remember my way around,” Rowan said as Christian led the way to the lift.

“No problem. Friday is quite a popular day here, so there are a few members about. The restaurant is a big draw at lunchtime because the food is really good. Perhaps when you’re done, if you don’t have to get straight back, we could grab something to eat together. I’m just covering reception for another half an hour.”

“That sounds great.” The butterflies in Rowan’s stomach had prevented him from eating breakfast or any of the snacks in his bag. He’d just eaten the cookie on the train and that now sat like a rock in the bottom of his stomach. “If you’re sure you don’t have anywhere better to be?”

“Not at all. My Master is working so I’m a free agent. I’ll come and find you.”

“I’ll look forward to it. Hopefully by then my guts will have settled down a bit.”

Christian squeezed his shoulder in reassurance. The lift door slid open and they walked into the noise and warmth of the club.

“Well, here we are. Just be yourself. They’ll love you.”

Rowan had been so absorbed by his conversation with Christian that he hadn’t noticed his location within the club. They had reached the dining room and in the far corner three men sat behind two tables, which had been pushed together. They had paperwork laid out in front of them and there were four glasses of water set out. A single, lonely chair was set facing them. Rowan nibbled his bottom lip. “Here goes then.” His hands were cold and clammy, his gaze darting everywhere. It was still a little early for the lunch service, but there were a few men sitting at the tables with drinks and snacks. Delicious odors emanated from the direction of the kitchen and every now and again a server would appear with a laden tray. Rowan remembered their uniform from his previous visit. The short leather kilts left little to the imagination but none of them seemed self-conscious about their attire.

Rowan realized that Christian had moved away and that he was alone. One of the men at the tables beckoned to him.

“Come on over, Rowan, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” He had an open, friendly smile.

Rowan forced his unwilling legs into action and took the few short paces across the room. He managed to bump into two chairs on the way but, to his relief, didn’t knock them over. Reaching the interview table felt like a small victory, as did dropping his bag without spilling the contents all over the floor and revealing Bilbo’s presence. He managed to smile then held out his hand to the man sitting in the center of the row. “Good morning, thank you so much for inviting me to interview. I’m really happy to be here.”

“Please take a seat.” The man whose hand Rowan had shaken spoke. He was tall, immaculately dressed, with dark hair highlighted by silver at the temples. He had kind eyes and laughter lines on his lightly tanned face. “Let me introduce you to the rest of the interview panel. To my right is Harry Croft, my bar manager, and to my left is Alistair Easton, my submissive. I’m Carey Hoffman, owner of The Underground and The Retreat.”

Rowan nodded a greeting, relieved that he wasn’t facing three Doms. Harry was also dark-haired. He was a big man and quite intimidating, despite his smile. Alistair was slender, blond and had boy-next-door good looks. There was barely an inch of space between him and Carey.

“So let me tell you how this is going to work,” Carey said. “We each have a few questions for you and I’d appreciate you answering them as honestly as you can. There won’t be any trick questions—we’re here to find out if you would be a good fit for The Retreat, which is a very special place. I only recruit the very best staff and the standards I expect are high.”

Rowan nodded. “I understand.”

Carey started off with a few easy questions about Rowan’s journey to break the ice. He asked how many times Rowan had been to London and if there was anywhere he particularly liked to visit. Then the questions got a bit more serious.

“Now, perhaps you could tell us why the job advertisement attracted you and why you decided to apply?”

Rowan moistened his lips. His mouth was dry and he had to fight down his nerves. He took a deep breath. “When I saw the advertisement, I got really excited because it seemed like the job had been designed just for me. I love taking care of people, and things, and my current job allows me to do that to a certain extent but… I’m a submissive. I want—no I need to be needed. To be cared for by someone I can care for in return. Does that make sense?” He looked at each of the men in front of him in turn. Harry nodded, Carey scribbled a few notes on the piece of paper in front of him and Alistair smiled, understanding in his eyes. “There’s something missing in the job I have at the moment. There’s no intimacy. I can care about the people I serve but they don’t really care about me in return. I just provide a service and I want more than that. Whenever I played with a good Dom in the past, I felt like I mattered. I want to do something that matters.” Rowan wondered if he had gone too far. His tone had got a little strident as he tried to get his view across.

“Thank you for your honesty,” Carey said. “Now, when you read the job description was there anything that worried you about it?”

“Not really,” Rowan said. “I mean, I know I’m not very experienced as a submissive but I’m willing to learn and there’s not much that scares me. I get to sign a contract, and I can rule out certain things if I want to, so that makes me comfortable. Thinking about what I might be asked to do gives me tingles. Oh! I didn’t mean to say that.”

Alistair giggled then cast a sideways glance at Carey. Carey rolled his eyes but gave him an affectionate smile.

“Good to know. Now, I’d like you to undress down to your underwear, Rowan. Nudity, little clothing or revealing costumes might be required by our clients so it’s important that we see how comfortable you are in your skin.”

Rowan stripped quickly, not wishing to appear hesitant. His face was warm and he hoped he wasn’t blushing too badly. He put his clothes in a neatly folded pile then stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He had decided on the plain blue boxer briefs he had bought. They weren’t the sexiest garment ever, but they hugged his body and they were comfortable.

“Thank you. Now remove your underwear.”

Swallowing, Rowan did as he was asked. The temptation to cover his groin was strong, but he resisted, resuming his previous position.

“Thank you. You may dress then sit down.”

Rowan was aware that the restaurant was filling with people but didn’t look around. He kept his focus on the men in front of him and ignored the fact that a bunch of strangers had just seen him naked. His cock perked into life. Oh God, not now! He scrambled into his clothes with undignified haste, praying that his condition hadn’t been noticed. The twinkle in Carey’s eyes told him it had.

“Can you tell me what it is that you most enjoy about looking after someone?” This time it was Harry who asked the question, just as Rowan reached the relative safety of his chair.

“I believe there’s an art to service, sir.” Rowan leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled. “My pleasure comes from the knowledge that I’ve done a good job with grace. Sorry, that’s not the right word…service should be seamless, inconspicuous and done with love. Whether it’s polishing an antique piece of furniture, keeping bed linens pristine or running the perfect bubble bath, the task should be performed with the client’s pleasure in mind. Kneeling in silence, assuming a display position or accepting discipline—the aim should always be perfection even if it isn’t always possible to achieve. Trying my best calms me. I’m sorry… I don’t think I’m being very clear.” Rowan examined his fingernails.

“On the contrary,” Harry said. “That was a revealing response. Look at me, Rowan.”

Rowan snapped his head up to meet Harry’s eyes.

“There’s no need to apologize for saying what you feel.”

“May I, Sir?” Alistair turned to Carey.

“Of course, love.”

Rowan immediately felt more at ease. Alistair was a sub so he would understand how Rowan felt.

“Rowan, The Retreat is quite isolated and very rural. How do you think you’ll cope with that?” Alistair’s tone was gentle and reassuring.

“I’m a country boy. I live in a small village and work at a country hotel. Cities scare me. There are too many people and the noise never stops. Oh… I guess you guys like that, though.”

Alastair giggled. “It has its moments.” He frowned. “In this role, you would only get time off between clients because we want continuity of service for each guest. Sometimes that might mean working for a few days or a week but other times for a month or more. How do you feel about that?”

“I like the idea that I can get to know a client during his stay. The better I know someone, the better the service I can provide. And, to be honest, I tend to get a bit territorial. I know other people are just as capable as me but I have a hard time accepting that they care as much. If I had time off I would feel like I was abandoning my client.”

Alistair nodded. “Thanks, Rowan.”

After a few more probing questions from Harry, Carey asked, “Do you have any final questions for us?”

“Just…well…would I get any information about the clients before their arrival? So I could prepare things to their liking?”

“We have very strict confidentiality agreements,” Carey said, “which you would have to sign. The client’s identity is only revealed at their discretion and they may choose to use a false name. You would receive a folder containing details of their preferences. When a client books a stay at The Retreat, they get to select any number of things to make their stay more enjoyable. This could also affect your working conditions so we would share that with you.”

Rowan nodded. “Thank you. It all sounds wonderful.”

Carey stood, offering a hand. “That’s it for now. I can see Christian waiting for you.”

“We’re having lunch together.”

“That’s a great idea—you can ask him anything else you think of. Please accept the meal with our compliments. We’ll be in touch very soon.”

Rowan shook Carey’s hand before grabbing his bag. “Yes, sir. Thank you for the opportunity.” He nodded to Harry and Alistair before moving away, searching the room for Christian. He was standing to one side near the kitchen door and gave Rowan a small wave. Rowan walked across to him, taking care not to knock into anything.

“How did it go?” Christian asked.

“I’ve no idea,” Rowan replied. “I mean, I answered all their questions but I’m not sure I was giving them the answers they were looking for. I was too nervous to make eye contact very much so it was hard to tell how they were reacting.”

“Well, I’m sure you did really well and you deserve a nice lunch, so let’s find a table then you can choose whatever you like from the menu.” Christian led him across the restaurant to a table set for three. “I hope you don’t mind but I asked another friend to join us. His name’s Olly and I’m sure you’ll like him—everyone does. He’s here with his Dom, Joe, but he has permission to spend some time with us.”

“Sure,” Rowan replied. “I don’t get to meet many subs and it’s really nice to be with people who understand me.”

“He should be here in a few minutes.”

Christian took a seat and Rowan chose the one next to him, facing out into the restaurant so he could indulge in a bit of people-watching.

“Here, have a look at the menu.” Christian handed it over. “The chefs are brilliant. I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t recommend. Except avocado—I hate those things.”

Rowan chuckled at Christian’s grimace. He examined the extensive list of dishes. “Wow, there’s so much choice! A lot more than in the restaurant at the hotel where I work.”

“It’s a bit overwhelming, isn’t it? Carey usually orders for me because I can never make up my mind. If you like, we could get one of the sharing platters. Lots of yummy, deep-fried finger food with a selection of dips. You can choose between meat, fish or vegetarian. Do you have a preference?”

“Fish! Because the garlic prawns are incredibly scrummy.”

Rowan glanced up from the menu to see who had spoken because it wasn’t Christian. Someone, who he guessed must be Olly, had joined them and was pulling up a chair. The young man had a head of golden curls, blue eyes and a cheeky grin. He wore tight black leather trousers, glittery lilac Vans and a purple T-shirt with a rainbow-colored unicorn on it.

“Hi, I’m Olly, and I’m serious—the fish platter is scrumplicious.”

“Rowan.” Rowan couldn’t help but smile. Olly seemed so full of joy it was bubbling over.

“Christian told me that you’re going to need lots of sympathy because you’ve just been through a horrible ordeal. I’m really good at sympathy because I’m a nurse so I’ve been trained in how to be nice to people.” Olly cocked his head to one side as if thinking hard. “Though some of the soldiers at the military hospital where I work every now and again say that my bedside manner could be improved, but it’s hardly my fault when they can’t aim vomit into a paper bowl. You’d think being soldiers they’d be good shots but no. I dread to think what they’re like in the gents.” He giggled. “Anyway, I will definitely be nice to you. I can’t imagine what it must be like to be interviewed by Harry and Carey. The idea terrifies me. Though, if Alistair was there it couldn’t have been all bad because he’s really sweet—that’s if the dommy types let him get a word in edgeways. My Dom is Joe. He’s over there at that table.”

Olly leaned so far back in his chair that Rowan held his breath, thinking that it would tip over any second. Olly pointed at a handsome blond man on the other side of the room, sharing a table with three others.

“Isn’t he gorgeous?” He rocked his chair back into place. “I’m a very lucky boy. But I have to be good and eat healthy things, so if we’re having one of the sharing platters, and I really, really hope we are, then we have to get salad too. That counts as healthy, doesn’t it? And fish is good for me, it has all that omega three stuff. And if I eat all that good stuff it means I can have a really big dessert.” He rubbed his flat stomach with both hands, eyes bright with excitement. “So tell us all about the interview. What mean questions did they ask you? Was it like an interrogation, you know like the Spanish Inquisition with torture and stuff?” He shivered. “That would be so delicious.”

Rowan laughed. “There was no torture involved, though I did have to take my clothes off in front of the whole restaurant.”

Olly gasped. “Holy guacamole! Joe would never let me do that. He says that my special bits are for his eyes only. Of course, his eyes get to see them a lot. When we are at home he has this strange idea that clothing is optional for me, but not for him, which I don’t think is fair because he has the most amazing body, which I really, really like to look at, and kiss, and lick…” Olly got a dreamy look on his face as if he was off in another world.

“Too much information, Olly,” Christian said, grinning.

“But we’re friends,” Olly said, “and friends tell each other everything. I keep saying that to Aidan, he’s my best friend, Rowan, but he’s not here because he’s back in Yorkshire working. He has a brain the size of Jupiter and does really clever computer geeky stuff, which I don’t understand, and he lives in the basement but I think he likes it down there because it reminds him of the dungeon and he spends a lot of time in dungeons with his Dom, Heath.”

Christian shook his head. He waved to the nearest server who scurried over. “Can we get the fish platter for three please, Barnaby? And a big bowl of mixed salad with some of the chef’s special dressing. Water okay for everyone, or would you prefer juice?”

“Water for me, please,” said Rowan.

“I’ll take an apple juice with ice,” Olly said.

Barnaby smiled then skipped toward the kitchen. His kilt lifted as he moved, revealing his almost bare arse. Several diners at other tables turned to watch him.

“I don’t think it’ll be long before Barnaby finds himself a Master,” Christian commented. “Several members have shown interest already.”

“Do many people get paired up after working here?” Rowan asked.

“Quite a few,” Christian responded. “That’s why they are constantly having to recruit. I used to work reception here before I met my partner and now I just cover when they’re a bit short-staffed. I’m at college most of the time.”

“But it will be different at The Retreat,” Olly said. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to work somewhere else after they’ve spent time there—it’s an amazing place.”

“Have you been?” Rowan was intrigued.

“I have,” Olly said. “Not that long ago either. Me and Joe, Aidan and Heath went to stay there for a long weekend. Carey wanted a few friends to test out some of the facilities before he opened to paying guests. It wasn’t fully staffed, but the chef was there and he can work magic in the kitchen. I can’t tell you how orgasmic his double chocolate brownies are.” Olly smacked his lips together. “The bedrooms are amazing, too. They all have their little secrets and look like normal guest bedrooms if you don’t examine them too closely.”

“What do you mean?” Rowan asked.

“Well, in one room there’s a priest’s hole in the floor, which has been converted to a cage. Aidan spent some time in there.” Olly grinned. “And in the room Joe and I shared there was a sling hidden in the canopy of the four-poster and a piece of furniture that converted to a spanking bench. Just perfect. We had an amazing time. Oh, and you must visit the attic. But I won’t give away all the place’s secrets—some of them you need to discover for yourself.”

“I haven’t got the job yet,” Rowan said. “But I’m keeping everything crossed.”

“That must be really uncomfortable,” Olly said, crossing his eyes.

Their food arrived and the three of them tucked in. Rowan found that he had a voracious appetite. As Christian had promised, the food was delicious and there was plenty for all of them. They chatted about all kinds of things during the meal and Rowan felt like he’d made two good friends even in such a short space of time. Christian was serene and calm, he made Rowan feel relaxed and Olly was so much fun, Rowan couldn’t imagine anyone not liking him—though he thought it would probably be quite easy to get into trouble if he spent much time with him. They were perusing the dessert menu when Alistair came over.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked.

“Alistair!” Olly jumped to his feet and gave Alistair a hug. “Of course you can, even though you were part of the Inquisition.” His eyes sparkled.

“Thanks, I think.” Alistair gave a wry grin. “I’ll have the strawberry tart if you’re ordering desserts but I’ve also come with good news. Congratulations, Rowan, the job at The Retreat is yours if you want it.”

Rowan gaped. “But I wasn’t expecting to hear anything for days.”

“You were the last person we had to interview, and it was a really easy decision. We all agreed you’d be perfect for the post.”

Rowan didn’t know what to say. He was shocked, happy and nervous all at once. Christian and Olly both congratulated him, Christian with a hug and Olly with a big kiss on the cheek. “I… Um…”

“Time for pudding.” Olly waved at Barnaby. “We need three giant chocolate surprises and one boring piece of strawberry tart,” he said. “We’re celebrating.”

While Barnaby went to the kitchen to sort out their order, Alistair grabbed a chair from a vacant table and they all shuffled around to make room for him.

“You’re going to get into so much trouble for this, Olly.” Alistair winked. “I hope you haven’t been taking on board any advice that Olly is giving you, Rowan, he’s a bad influence.”

“I am.” Olly raised his glass of juice in a toast. “And proud of it. But I’m sure Rowan wouldn’t be swayed by little old me.”

Rowan laughed. “I think, Olly, that you might look angelic but you’re the devil in disguise.”

Christian and Alistair fell about laughing.

“He’s got you down to a T,” Christian said.

Olly tossed his head, making his blond curls bounce. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. I’m as pure and innocent as the driven snow.”

Their desserts arrived and Rowan gaped at their size. Conical sundae dishes contained layers of chocolate mousse, cherries, cream and chunks of brownie, and were topped with a smooth dark ganache and more cherries. “There’s no way I’m going to be able to fit this in,” Rowan said.

“Well, if you run out of room, I’d be happy to help you out,” Olly said.

“Olly’s never met a dessert yet that could beat him,” Christian commented.

“Puddings are made to be conquered,” Olly announced. “Whether they are in pretty glass dishes or smeared on Joe’s abs.” His expression was deadly serious.

Trying not to laugh, Rowan scooped a spoonful of the sweet concoction into his mouth and before he knew it, he was scraping the bottom of the dish.

“You see? Rowan and I are destined to be soulmates.” Olly gave his spoon a final lick. “We should get coffee now.”

“You might want to rethink that,” Christian said, “because Joe and Carey are heading this way.”

“Oh.” Olly’s eyes widened. He sipped some water. “Do I have any chocolate around my mouth?” He licked his lips.

Rowan resisted the urge to stand up as Carey and Joe approached. Close-up, Rowan could now see that Olly’s Dom was startlingly good-looking, with icy pale blue eyes. He could have come across as haughty and cold but when his gaze rested on Olly the chill in his eyes warmed.

“I hope you all had a lovely lunch,” Carey said. “Were you impressed by the cooking, Rowan?”

“Yes, sir. Everything was delicious. I think it was one of the best meals I’ve ever eaten.”

“The chef will be delighted to hear it,” Carey said. “And congratulations on your new role, not that I would assume to pre-empt your decision. However, I’ve taken the liberty of putting together some paperwork for you.” He handed over a folder. “In there you’ll find a contract of employment with a covering letter and a separate contract with the more unusual details of the role. Please take your time and have someone else look over them if you wish. I’d appreciate a quick phone call, once you’ve made your decision, to let me know whether or not you’d like to accept the job.”

“Of course, sir. If my aunt—she’s a lawyer—is happy with the paperwork, I’ll definitely be accepting. I can’t tell you how delighted I am that you’ve offered the role to me.”

“We interviewed several candidates but you stood out, Rowan. I’ll be very pleased to have you as part of the staff at The Retreat. I think you’ll fit in extremely well.” Carey smiled. “Can I introduce you to Joe Dexter? The reprobate sat next to you is his sub.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, sir. Olly is great company. Thank you for allowing him to have lunch with me. He ate lots of salad.”

Joe shook his head. “That’s another one you’ve corrupted then, Oliver. I know exactly what you’ve been eating. Barnaby is an excellent spy. So it’s fortunate that I’ve managed to secure one of the private rooms for the afternoon because your punishment is going to take a while.”

Rowan felt a moment’s anxiety that his new friend was in trouble but relaxed when he caught sight of the grin Olly was trying to hide.

“I think that’s my signal to leave,” Olly said. “It was delightful to meet you, Rowan, and a wonderful coincidence that I happened to be here in London at the same time as you. It must have been fate, don’t you think?” Olly rose gracefully from his chair and turned into Joe’s arms, melting against him and resting his head on Joe’s shoulder. Rowan didn’t think he’d ever seen a couple so obviously in love. He watched them walk away, feeling just a little jealous.

“Joe and Olly are engaged to be married,” Christian explained. “Their engagement party was spectacular. I can only imagine how fabulous the wedding will be.”

“I like him,” Rowan said. “I think he must be a very special friend.” He checked his watch. “I really need to go and catch a train if I’m going to get home at a decent hour. I have to work in the morning and I have a really early start.” He stood up. “Thank you for making me feel so at home. I hope I’ll get to see you both again.” He checked his bag, making sure Bilbo was still safely tucked away. He slipped the folder in beside his spare clothes. “I’ll read everything on the train on the way home.” Christian and Alistair both wished him a safe journey and within a few minutes he was back outside in the London streets, surprised to find that it was still daylight. He felt like he was walking on air and couldn’t wait to get home to relay his news to Rory and Ed. He patted his rucksack. “Bilbo the good luck charm strikes again!”