where and who you were.
Nathan felt like a very lucky man.
He smiled. “You don’t look like a Danielle anyway.”
Jen felt better even though she hadn’t done anything yet other than reveal she’d been using a stage name.
In this area, Hooded Pleasures left it up to the individual, letting her decide what worked best. Some people liked having an alias, claiming it made it easier to divide their professional and personal lives.
Some liked it because it added another dimension of naughtiness to the fun. It was like wearing a mask or a hood, a wig or maybe different colored contact lenses to allow them to slip into the Domme persona easier. There were those who created entire wardrobes and personas to put on when they went out—not so different from anyone else headed for a club.
In her case, it was easier to work as Danielle and go back to Jennifer when she was in scrubs and at work. It was her way of keeping the two worlds separate.
She wasn’t embarrassed of what she did. It was simply a case of keeping the files apart in her mind, not mixing the two. She enjoyed her time at the club as a Domme and her appointments with her HP clients as Danielle, and when she went home and took off her clothes, her persona went with it. Nothing confusing about it.
She’d never worried about the two colliding, crashing together in an explosion rocking her mind and body.
Until now.
Sitting next to Nathan, she picked up the cell phone and studied the message again as he waited for her next move.
It didn’t make the contents any less terrifying.
“I—” She paused, momentarily frozen in place.
“It’s okay.” Nathan put his hand on her knee. “I’m not going anywhere. When you’re ready to talk, I’m here.” He looked at the phone. “I guess it has to do with that, right?”
Jen nodded. “As you’ve probably guessed, we’re not allowed to take calls while we’re working.”
His reassuring nod kept her talking.
“I usually check in to see if there’s any texts after we’re finished up. You’ve seen me do it.”
“I have,” Nathan said quietly.
She held out the phone and showed him the text.
“This came in a half hour ago. I just read it now.”
The caller identification read Colleen.
The text itself was plan enough.
Incident at clinic. Drunken fight at bar; both fools came in and decided to continue in lobby. Idiots taken down by guard and police. Wanted to tell you before you saw it on news and freaked out. Not Tanner. NOT Tanner. See you tonight. Love you, Colleen.
Nathan scanned it.
“Okay. A situation. But it’s all over. You’ll have to explain why you’re having a bad reaction to all this. Who is this Tanner?”
“He’s—” She paused. “I’m not sure where to start.”
He squeezed her knee. “Let’s take it from the top.” He pointed at himself. “I’m Nathan. And you are—”
She couldn’t hold back a smile. “My real name is Jennifer. I only use Danielle when I’m out as a Domme.”
“Jennifer. I like it. It suits you.” Nathan’s tone was soft and casual. “Not that there’s anything wrong with Danielle. Where did you get that from?” He opened a fresh drink and offered the full can to her.
The simple question soothed her. “A romance novel I read back in my teens. One of the first real serious books I signed out from the library.” She took it from him and sipped the cool liquid. “A historical romance, to be exact. One of those where the duke is searching for his perfect mate and finds one in the scullery maid.” She frowned, trying to recall the book. “I think she was his childhood friend who he’d forgotten while off at school. Something like that.”
Nathan chuckled. “Sounds like a good book. Do you prefer Jen or Jennifer?”
She frowned. “Jen, please. Jennifer makes me sound old.” She forced herself to laugh. “I don’t think anyone calls me that other than my parents and the government.”
“For me, it’s the other way
Nathan felt like a very lucky man.
He smiled. “You don’t look like a Danielle anyway.”
Jen felt better even though she hadn’t done anything yet other than reveal she’d been using a stage name.
In this area, Hooded Pleasures left it up to the individual, letting her decide what worked best. Some people liked having an alias, claiming it made it easier to divide their professional and personal lives.
Some liked it because it added another dimension of naughtiness to the fun. It was like wearing a mask or a hood, a wig or maybe different colored contact lenses to allow them to slip into the Domme persona easier. There were those who created entire wardrobes and personas to put on when they went out—not so different from anyone else headed for a club.
In her case, it was easier to work as Danielle and go back to Jennifer when she was in scrubs and at work. It was her way of keeping the two worlds separate.
She wasn’t embarrassed of what she did. It was simply a case of keeping the files apart in her mind, not mixing the two. She enjoyed her time at the club as a Domme and her appointments with her HP clients as Danielle, and when she went home and took off her clothes, her persona went with it. Nothing confusing about it.
She’d never worried about the two colliding, crashing together in an explosion rocking her mind and body.
Until now.
Sitting next to Nathan, she picked up the cell phone and studied the message again as he waited for her next move.
It didn’t make the contents any less terrifying.
“I—” She paused, momentarily frozen in place.
“It’s okay.” Nathan put his hand on her knee. “I’m not going anywhere. When you’re ready to talk, I’m here.” He looked at the phone. “I guess it has to do with that, right?”
Jen nodded. “As you’ve probably guessed, we’re not allowed to take calls while we’re working.”
His reassuring nod kept her talking.
“I usually check in to see if there’s any texts after we’re finished up. You’ve seen me do it.”
“I have,” Nathan said quietly.
She held out the phone and showed him the text.
“This came in a half hour ago. I just read it now.”
The caller identification read Colleen.
The text itself was plan enough.
Incident at clinic. Drunken fight at bar; both fools came in and decided to continue in lobby. Idiots taken down by guard and police. Wanted to tell you before you saw it on news and freaked out. Not Tanner. NOT Tanner. See you tonight. Love you, Colleen.
Nathan scanned it.
“Okay. A situation. But it’s all over. You’ll have to explain why you’re having a bad reaction to all this. Who is this Tanner?”
“He’s—” She paused. “I’m not sure where to start.”
He squeezed her knee. “Let’s take it from the top.” He pointed at himself. “I’m Nathan. And you are—”
She couldn’t hold back a smile. “My real name is Jennifer. I only use Danielle when I’m out as a Domme.”
“Jennifer. I like it. It suits you.” Nathan’s tone was soft and casual. “Not that there’s anything wrong with Danielle. Where did you get that from?” He opened a fresh drink and offered the full can to her.
The simple question soothed her. “A romance novel I read back in my teens. One of the first real serious books I signed out from the library.” She took it from him and sipped the cool liquid. “A historical romance, to be exact. One of those where the duke is searching for his perfect mate and finds one in the scullery maid.” She frowned, trying to recall the book. “I think she was his childhood friend who he’d forgotten while off at school. Something like that.”
Nathan chuckled. “Sounds like a good book. Do you prefer Jen or Jennifer?”
She frowned. “Jen, please. Jennifer makes me sound old.” She forced herself to laugh. “I don’t think anyone calls me that other than my parents and the government.”
“For me, it’s the other way
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