AUTHORS' NOTES:

We are absolutely blown away by all the reviews, follows, and favs we've received on our very first chapter! *sobbing simultaneously* Thank you so much for all the amazing support, everyone. We cannot possibly express our excitement and gratitude enough! Many thanks to The Lemonade Stand for featuring SQ this week, as well!

Love to the Status Quo Crew for their super helpful feedback! XO

CHAPTER 2

(Edward)

Newton's made the best pizza around, hands down, and it wasn't only because Old-Man Mike had known me since I was a kid and always insisted on throwing in free brownies for dessert. His restaurant was a legend in these parts, and for good reason. The man knew his way around toppings and dough. I savored a hot bite of pepperoni, mushrooms, and gooey cheese, chewing slowly while scrolling through all the junk mail on my phone, stopping short when a particular correspondence I'd been waiting for jumped out at me through the rest.

"I got a call back from the agency this afternoon," I said conversationally. "They emailed a file over, but I haven't checked it out yet."

"Oh, yeah?" Emmett replied around a mouthful of pizza, a thick blob of red sauce dribbling down his chin. My roommate had all the presence of a barnyard animal, but what was a self-made bachelor to do? Rent in our city was expensive, and with both of our businesses barely keeping things above the red, neither of us could afford a decent place on our own. Add to this that he was my oldest and closest friend, someone who knew most of my deepest, darkest secrets and never once batted an eye, and there wasn't much I wouldn't put up with, abhorrent table manners included.

I shook my head in resigned exasperation and handed him a napkin from the stack included with our order. "Use it, jeez. You look like a vampire fresh off a feed."

Emmett snickered but complied, scrunching the now-smeared paper into a ball and tossing it into an empty box on the coffee table in front of him. He'd already polished off two orders of wings and the first of three pizzas we ordered, and his pace hadn't slowed down yet.

"So, what are you waiting for?" he asked while chewing furiously, barely intelligible as he proceeded to down half a slice of pizza in one go. "Let's see what she has to offer."

"Yes, let's . . ." I concurred, tapping on the email and opening the attachment. My fingers hovered impatiently over the screen as I waited for it to load.

"Isabella Swan," I read aloud once the information became visible. "Twenty-nine. Five foot four. Brunette. An experienced sub with just under five years in the community. Widowed—hmm, wasn't expecting that, but okay. She prefers bondage, moderate punishment, serving her Dominant with complete submission, verbal humiliation, orgasm control, and a regular schedule. Hard limits are blood-play, knife-play, anything that leaves permanent marks, urolagnia, and anal."

"No butt stuff, huh?" Emmett piped up. "Well, you can't win 'em all."

Hmm, I'd have to see about that . . .

Before I could say anything about it, Emmett leaned over from where he sat on the far side of the couch, eyeing my phone screen curiously. "What does she look like?"

"The agency doesn't include pictures," I reminded him, flashing him just the black-and-white words on the screen. "We're provided basic information about each other, but they don't want us choosing candidates based on looks alone. The idea is to pay more attention to our likes and limits. It's supposed to help us make more fulfilling matches."

"Oh, right. Makes sense, but it's still kinda too bad. Can you google her?"

"Well, I could, but it feels kind of like cheating. This system works. I made a great match with Leah from it, and I'm hoping it will happen that way again."

"That's true," Emmett said, then he belched loudly. "I'm stuffed. Gonna go shower, jerk it, and hit the hay. I've got early deliveries tomorrow."

I nodded as he gathered up the empty food boxes and left me to deal with what remained. After storing the other half of a Hawaiian and two scraggly-looking hot wings in the fridge, I wiped the coffee table, shut off all the lights, and made my way up to my second-floor bedroom.

I heard the heavy downpour of the shower as I passed the shared bathroom in our two-story townhouse, and then made a sharp left turn into my room. Emmett's messy bedroom was just across the narrow hall, which was why he always found something to do outside the house on my scene nights. I was grateful to have both a roommate and a friend who not only accepted my unconventional lifestyle but also did what he could to support it.

Shutting my door and leaning back against the cheap IKEA dresser, I let my gaze wander over the moderately-sized room. It wasn't much, but it was mine, and I'd worked hard for it all. The king-sized bed in the far corner took up the most space, because I was a tall man and I refused to compromise on size or comfort, especially not with the activities that went on in it. I'd picked up the frame at a garage sale nearby, and after sanding down the rusty wrought-iron head- and footboards and repainting them matte black, I did the same to the wooden nightstand I'd found on Craigslist. It was an effort to make it all match a little more, but it looked okay, in my opinion. The bedding had been a bit of a splurge, a new mattress with a maroon velvet comforter and gray satin sheets, but it was a worthy investment, for both myself and my sub.

I had limited space and resources, yet Leah had never complained. If anything, it made me all the more creative as I found new and interesting ways to make do with what I had.

With the bed taking up a good chunk of the room, I made sure to use the rest of it wisely. Hooks on the inside of my closet door held restraints, rope, and a leash, along with some fun little body harnesses. A grin twisted my mouth as my gaze moved to the most prized possession in my collection, an ornate, black leather bench-chest. I'd bought the large, metal-studded piece off another Dom who was getting rid of everything since he was installing a whole new playroom in his and his wife's new home. It had still been expensive, even second hand, but it was worth it and served a double purpose: it held all my toys in an organized way and worked wonderfully as a whipping bench, as well. I opened the heavy lid, folding it back on its hinges, taking out a flogger and running my fingers through the soft, supple strands. I missed the feeling, the bond, the weight of the heavy handle in my hand and the sound of leather slapping on reddened skin.

My thoughts were consumed with anticipation. What would this Isabella be like? Was she shy, or bratty? Would she comply, or would I have to punish her? My fingers curled around the flogger's handle tightly as I imagined this unknown brunette, bent over the bench dressed in white lace lingerie. I loved it when my sub wore white—such an innocent color to be doing such dirty things.

Propelled by my imagination, I walked over to the right side of the bed, opening the nightstand I used for more storage. Inside was a black velvet dust bag, rattling slightly when I took it out. I pulled the drawstrings, emptying the contents into my palm. Smooth linked chains in glistening stainless steel, a small lock weighing it down. I wondered if Isabella was pale or dark, how the chain would lay against her skin. I loved seeing my collar on my sub; it was the strongest relationship I'd ever had in my entire life. Having a Dom/sub commitment was uncomplicated, with crystal clear guidelines and rules. There were no intricate misunderstandings regarding emotions. Everything was mapped out, foolproof.

I heard the bathroom door open and Emmett's door slam shut a few seconds later, and decided to head to bed myself. After all, I had a long day ahead of me, and part of me was already dreading it.

— SQ —

Between the Lines Books sat in a trendy area just a few blocks from the city centre, flanked by a bustling coffee shop and a hip vintage-clothing boutique. Its prime location meant that, at one time, business was booming, but with the popularity of e-readers, online shopping, and mega-volume retailers offering prices I simply couldn't compete with, I was losing more customers than gaining, every year.

I sighed wistfully as my key slid into the lock on the glass and steel door, letting myself in and turning the sign to 'open.' As the owner and only employee, it was up to me to both open and close the store, as well as manning it from ten a.m. to six p.m. Monday to Friday, and for a few hours on Saturdays, too. Every day it seemed less and less worth it.

With my coat and backpack stored in the tiny office in the back, I came out into the storefront to get on with what needed doing today. The latest shipment from Eclipse Publishing House was still sitting behind the counter, two smallish boxes filled with a couple of new releases and some restock of popular items. After putting it all on the shelves, I spent as much time as I could stand tidying, dusting, and reorganizing everything that needed it.

Just after one p.m. a lady came in to buy the full eight-book Blood and Bones series by Jessica Stanley—the largest single sale I'd made in a week. I thanked her profusely and gave her a coupon for ten percent off her next purchase, hoping she'd come again, and soon.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of boredom, with more time than I cared to admit spent playing Pac-Man on my phone. I made a few more sales but nothing monumental, the profits from which would likely just cover the running costs for the day. At six o'clock on the dot I turned the door sign to 'closed,' and headed straight home to nurse my frustrations in beer.

"S'up, dawg?" Emmett greeted from his usual spot on the worn-leather couch. There was an empty donair wrapper and a few abandoned cheese fries sitting in a soggy takeout box on the coffee table. "I left that rabbit shit you like in the fridge for you."

I smirked as I shut the front door and hung my backpack on its hook in the entryway. "Thanks, man. I'll join you in a sec."

After changing into some gray sweats and a clean white t-shirt, I retrieved my chicken-caesar salad and brought it out to the living room. The container helpfully had a plastic fork taped to the top, which I used to mix in the dressing. "How was your day?" I asked Emmett after swallowing my first mouthful.

He shrugged without taking his eyes off the game on the TV. "Same, same. My feet are fucking killing me. I'm getting too old for this delivery-boy bullshit."

"You're thirty-two," I pointed out. Only one year older than me, and hardly old.

"Like I said . . ." he replied and took a long, slurping pull from his Big Gulp.

I snickered and shook my head, shoveling more salad into my mouth. Corner-store lettuce didn't really have much to offer, but I was hungry enough after a long-ass day to overlook that fact and just appreciate the meal for what it was: food in my belly. Besides, I had my favorite beer beside me to wash it all down, and there wasn't much in life a good brew couldn't remedy.

"Did you get in touch with that Isabella chick?" Emmett asked after a few minutes of companionable silence.

I had finished my salad and was now sitting in the La-Z-Boy armchair with my head resting on the back and my beer cradled in my lap. The game Emmett was watching didn't hold much interest for me, but my eyes still tracked the movement lazily. "I did, actually. Well, I replied to the agency about it. I'm just waiting to hear back about a time and place to meet her in person now."

"Cool," Emmett said, and left it at that.

I woke up a while later to find the TV off and the room dark. I didn't know what time it was, but Emmett must have gone to bed after his game ended, and it was time for me to do the same. I left my empty beer bottle on the coffee table with my takeout dishes, making a mental note to clean up my mess before leaving for work the next morning.

The house was quiet as I padded up the old hardwood stairs, the creak of every few steps echoing around me. I made a quick stop to brush my teeth and take a piss before falling into bed, sinking into the silky softness and trying not to think about doing it all again tomorrow.

— SQ —

Tuesday morning greeted me with a response from the agency, along with a suggestion for a place and time from Isabella. I had heard of this Muddy Waters cafe but never been there myself, so I agreed and hoped it would be suitable for a private conversation. If not, we could always keep things casual and speak later on the phone to discuss the more—ah, intimate—details of our potential arrangement.

I hoped we would get that far, anyway.

My workday passed in sporadic bursts of busyness and boredom. The sun was setting already as I rounded the corner onto our street; I checked my watch, grimacing at the time. It was much later than I usually arrived home on a weekday, so as soon as I got in the front door I ran upstairs to my room and threw on a white tank and pair of navy workout shorts. Heading down to the basement, I found Emmett sitting on the worn bench press we shared, a towel around his neck, chugging a bottle of water.

"Hey bro, where have you been? I almost sent out a search party for you." He wiped some sweat off his forehead before standing up and walking over to the plate weights on the other side of the room.

"There were some last-minute clients who had me look for something old and special. It turned out to be worth a pretty penny in the end; I couldn't say no to that." I shrugged like this was obvious, turning the movement into shoulder rolls and adding some arm circles to get my blood flowing.

"For sure," Emmett agreed. He carried a good two hundred and fifty pounds back over to the bench press and started stacking weights onto the bar. "Spot me?"

"Yeah." I stood at his head as he lay back on the bench, ready to assist should the load be too much for him. My mind tried to wander and I kept snapping it back to attention as he counted out his reps.

"Six . . . seven . . . eiiiiight," Emmett huffed out through gritted teeth, his face red and muscles straining as he completed the set. With the bar back in its holder, he stood up and swung his bulging arms around, eventually turning to me and nodding toward the bench expectantly.

"What? Oh, right," I said, pulling some of the plate-weights back off to better suit my size. We worked out together regularly, physical fitness being important to us both, and because of it I was strong, but not Emmett-strong.

Once I was settled on the bench, Emmett came around and spotted me through my set, eyeing me curiously once I was done. "What's up with you today, man? You're totally spaced right out."

I sighed for the millionth time since I'd gotten up this morning, unable to break out of the funk that had settled on me. "Meh, I dunno. I just wonder sometimes what the fuck I'm doing. With the bookstore, with B.V., with this rental we're in . . . Don't get me wrong, I'm happy with everything I have, but it all just seems to be standing still. How long am I going to spin my wheels before I ever actually go anywhere?"

Nodding his head in understanding, Emmett let out a low whistle. "Hey, I hear ya. Times are tough for a lot of us. I'm just barely making out with a paycheck myself after inventory, overhead, and paying the other guys. It's fuckin' rough, but what else is out there for a couple of regular guys like us right now?"

"That's the problem right there, Emm—I don't fucking know," I agreed.

Emmett loaded up the weight bar again and laid down on the bench for his second set. "Well, hey. You've got this Isabella to meet tomorrow, right? If all goes well, at least you'll get to blow off some steam. Maybe twice."

I couldn't help but chuckle as I prepared to spot him again. "Yeah, that's something."

— SQ —

My alarm blared through my room at seven o'clock the next morning, and I wanted to throw my cell phone out the damn window. I'd decided to wake myself up an hour early today, since I wouldn't have time to come home and clean up after work before my meeting with Isabella later on. After a rough sleep, however, spent tossing and turning and having lewd dreams about handcuffs and purple asses, I was seriously reconsidering my choice. I hauled myself out of bed anyway, letting a hot shower and a much-needed jerk-off blast me awake. I washed well and shaved, eventually leaving the steamy bathroom with a towel wrapped around my waist.

"Go get 'em, man!" I heard Emmett's sleepy voice call through his half-open bedroom door. I laughed and said thanks, heading into my own room and hunting for something decent to wear.

Both the shower and orgasm had helped ease the tense muscles in my shoulders and neck, but I knew it wouldn't last for long. I needed real release, something much larger than my everyday life to get my mind off it all. At times like these I would normally break my 'weekend-only' rule for scenes and call Leah in to help burn off some of the tension, but I couldn't resort to that now, and I hadn't been able to in far too long. I only hoped my conversation with Isabella Swan would go well and give me something to look forward to.

Toweling my hair one last time and giving it a few quick comb-throughs with my fingers, I was done. Dressed in my nicest pair of dark-wash jeans and a newer black long-sleeved t-shirt, I laced up my eight-hole Doc Martens and was out the door.

— SQ —

The evening found me running late—four minutes to be exact—since the same customer from yesterday had returned right before I closed up shop, asking if I could order another special-edition book that took me ages to find in my supplier's online catalogue. Once again, it was a worthy sale that I couldn't possibly turn down, but I hated that my tardiness might mar the first impression I made on a new sub.

The coffee shop was busy but not overcrowded, warm light spilling outside from the several large windows lining the front. Peering surreptitiously through the glass and steel door, I felt the days' worth of excitement that had been building finally kick into high gear. I was beyond ready to meet this Isabella, and ready for so much more with her if everything went well at this meeting. I ran a hand through my hair and unzipped my leather jacket before I stepped inside, my eyes scanning the noisy room.

I bit back a smile as my eyes landed on a table in the corner, the chess piece I requested sitting clearly in place. She had her head down, looking at her phone, her luscious dark-brown hair pulled up into a ponytail, so long it still fell in a thin wave over one shoulder. As if sensing my attention upon her, she looked up all of a sudden, big brown eyes meeting mine. I noticed her gasp, clearly caught off guard by my appearance here, though from the token on the table I knew she had been expecting me. I took my time as I wandered over, sizing her up and really liking what I saw. She had clear, pale skin and a long, slender neck—my collar would look marvelous on her. I couldn't tell much of her body from where she sat behind the table, but if all went well here tonight, I'd have plenty of time to discover that later. Her cheeks began to blush a delectable soft pink as I approached, those warm brown eyes glued to me and her full, dark-painted lips slightly parted. This woman was fucking beautiful. I couldn't wait to make her mine.

A genuine grin spread onto my face. "Hello, Isabella."