Labor Day Lament
I’m so excited and honored to have the opportunity to visit at Delilah’s blog. Every time I come here I look around in awe. Isn’t her website great?
I’m all caught up in a new release today and waiting for my bestie and her husband to come hang out with us for a week, and why is it that just when I get into the fun of summer, it ends? I know we still have time before the Equinox, but everyone knows Labor Day is the effective end of summer. And the time I make my resolutions for the next one.
Next summer…I will go to the beach more often, swim every day! Well, every other day. I will get up extra early to go hike the Ascot Hills so I don’t make the excuse that it’s too hot and end up staying inside with a good book.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I can hike early/read later. Right?
I will grow a lot more veggies so I can eat all the incredible tomatoes and zucchini I want. And force the baseball bat-sized summer squash on my unsuspecting neighbors when I forget to pick them on time.
And watch my nephews do all the summer things while they are little enough not to remember summer has an end and it will get cold soon.
But I am so glad for the books I’ve had the opportunity to read, and the fun I’ve had writing my own. And so, with one weekend left of “official” summer, I have huge plans. I will go swimming tomorrow in a mountain lake. Sunday, the Tri-County Fair with my entire extended family. Hope they are ready for us. And Monday, the hubs is smoking enough meat to feed half the town. We’ll eat and drink and toast this summer and look forward to the fall.
With all its own fun and beauty and charm. The aspen trees with their shivery leaves are already starting to change color way up in the highest Sierras…I won’t want to miss that.
I’d love to hear what you did this summer, and we will select one commenter to win a copy of my brand spanking new release, Switch, and a ten-dollar Amazon gift card to buy some fall snacks to enjoy while reading it. Or summer snacks…any snacks you like. Just enjoy.
Here is a little bit of Switch, to whet your appetite:
“This can’t be the place.” The sun glinted off the block of glass and stone condos, blinding Esme. “Why would someone who specializes in spanking lessons set up shop in the center of town?”
Rick chuckled. “What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. A dingy storefront on a side street, maybe a battered warehouse?” She fidgeted in her seat, restless and anxious.
“Somewhere with big rats?” Rick stepped out of the car, and the valet took his place. “I don’t think he’s ashamed of what he does, baby.” He pulled a card from his pocket and glanced at it then came around to her side and opened the door. “The address is correct. 401 E. Burlington Avenue. P3. In such a fancy building, I suspect P3 is a penthouse.”
Helping her out of the car. One of many courtesies he’d instilled in their routine as part of their new lifestyle. She tried to adjust, but it never quite felt natural. Maybe in time.
Rick’s navy polo shirt and khakis, his clean-cut hair, chivalry, all of it represented an intrinsic change in their lives since they’d begun exploring domestic discipline as a lifestyle.
He took her arm and escorted her across the sidewalk and past the uniformed doorman who dipped from the waist. Epaulets and brass buttons? Is that still done? Esme smoothed her blouse into her simple A-line skirt and felt underdressed, gauche. Her first step into the marble-floored foyer added weight to the impression. The elegance hushed her, the walls papered with flocked gold material to a shoulder-high bleached-oak wainscoting, then soaring in pure white to the vaulted ceiling three stories above. A chandelier, thousands of crystals and mirrored pieces, cast sparkling reflections. The left wall was pierced ten feet up by a three-foot wide waterfall, cascading into a basin of the same marble as the floor, the splashing serving to silence their footsteps. No one else occupied the foyer as they passed through.
She gripped Rick’s elbow, fingers digging into the crook of his arm. He pried her loose and patted her hand. “Why so tense? Are you having second thoughts about our appointment?”
Esme’s gaze flicked around, lighting on the oddly-modern, brushed-steel elevator doors in the back of the lobby. Everything else held an old world feel. Or perhaps fantastical—in any case out of their league. “No…yes. Rick, if the Trainer lives here, how can we afford his services?”
He rested one hand on her shoulder, turned her to face him, serious brown eyes focusing on her face. “I thought we agreed I was in charge.”
“Well, yes, but….” Worry tightened her chest. The ink on their domestic discipline agreement had barely dried. He’d embraced her suggestion and stepped into the role as Head of Household so quickly, she’d nearly panicked.
“No buts. I promised to handle the finances, among other things, and you promised to allow me to do it. For one year.” He caressed her cheek and she leaned into his palm, relishing its warmth in the cool air. “I wouldn’t do anything to make you regret it, baby. Your trust is the greatest gift I’ve ever received.”
Trusting Rick, especially with money, was too new to be an easy fit. But she tried. The tightness in her shoulders eased somewhat and she ventured a small smile, rewarded by a grin in return. “You’ve changed in the past month, but I fall back into my old ways sometimes. Forgive me?”
He tweaked her nose and led her toward the elevator. “Hmm. I think we have to discuss punishment for your backsliding.”
She moved obediently forward, her heart pounding. “Maybe.” Let it not be too painful.
“Perhaps the Trainer can suggest an appropriate penalty.”
Esme nodded, despite her fear. “And help you administer it. After all, that’s why we’re here.” Her bitterness sharpened her tone. But she was doing her best.
Kate Richards divides her time between Los Angeles and the High Sierras. She would gladly spend all her days in the mountains, but she’d miss the beach…and her very supportive husband’s commute would be three hundred miles. Wherever she is, she loves to explore all different kinds of relationships in her stories. She doesn’t believe one-size-fits-all, and whether her characters live BDSM, ménage, GLBT or any other kind of lifestyle, it’s the love, the joy in one another, that counts.