SwitchingControl Read online

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Switching Control

  ISBN 9781419918513

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Switching Control Copyright © 2008 Ann Jacobs

  Edited by Sue-Ellen Gower.

  Cover art by Syneca.

  Electronic book Publication October 2008

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Switching Control

  Ann Jacobs

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Barbie: Mattel, Inc.

  BMW: Bayerische Motoren Werke Aktiengesellschaft

  Dolce & Gabbana: Gabbana, Stefano & Dolce, Domenico

  Ferrari: Ferrari S.p.A.

  Jacuzzi: Jacuzzi, Inc.

  Lexus: Toyota Jidosha Kabushiki Kaisha TA Toyota Motor Corporation

  Rolex: Rolex Watch USA

  Chapter One

  “Lookin’ good, Tom.”

  Tom could say the same for his pal Eli Calhoun. The burly surgeon looked as comfortable in a tux as he did in the more familiar surgical scrubs. Eli’s wife Maggie fit right in, too, wearing a shiny black dress that hugged her curves. Lucky bastard! Eli had hit the jackpot when he found her, a gorgeous woman no one would ever guess was his sex slave as well as his colleague and wife. From Eli’s grin and relaxed stance, Tom surmised that he was having a good time at the ball despite his preference for more high-energy pursuits like cracking chests, bodybuilding and acting out BDSM scenes. “Thanks. Every now and then we have to keep up the pretense of being civilized. You two having fun?”

  “It’s not too bad.” Eli smiled down at Maggie. “I’m still not big on these dress-up shows, but enduring them’s a lot easier since I know I’ll be taking Maggie home. How about you?”

  “I’m okay. Doing the command performance tonight with my mom and my date.” Speaking of Jo, she’d broken away from a group of San Antonio businesswomen and was headed their way, her blonde hair gleaming around her shoulders and her hot body encased in something light blue and shiny and slit to show off one perfect leg. Killer heels had her hips swaying when she walked, in a way Tom imagined had every man in the room imagining those legs wrapped around his waist.

  He’d had those fantasies, too, until they’d tried having sex a while back. But he’d learned quickly that she was all promise and no delivery. “Have you two met Johanna Carlisle? Jo, these are my colleagues, Eli and Maggie Calhoun.”

  Jo was arm candy, no doubt about it. Tom had no doubt that the picture they made together worked in this crowd. Jo in her finery, diamonds glittering around her neck and in her earlobes, her perfectly manicured hand resting in his as she greeted his friends. His mom liked seeing him with Jo at affairs like these, told him regularly that she wished he’d finally settle down and put a ring on her finger.

  But he and Jo had been down that road, and both of them soon realized they were not sexually compatible. Jo was vanilla all the way. She considered oral sex kink, and after that one very awkward evening he realized, despite her diplomatic withdrawal from bed, that she considered his interests just short of perversion. At the very least she’d realized he wasn’t the gentle lover of her Regency fantasies. However, by some miracle, they’d somehow managed to stay friends, such that it was mutually beneficial to them to attend galas like this together.

  He certainly couldn’t bring one of the subs he played with at the Club, like Snake Woman. Tom stared into his drink and sighed, wishing he didn’t envy Eli so much. Seemed right now he had to be platonic friends with women in his social life and only a sexual complement to the subs inside the club. Would he ever find someone like Maggie, who could straddle both worlds? Someone he could love as well as desire?

  It wasn’t that he hadn’t begun to give a lot of thought to settling down with Jo. She was witty, gorgeous, well-educated, and successful as a family practice associate in one of the biggest law firms in San Antonio. She had all the qualities he should have been looking for in a mate—except for one. Tom had learned young that vanilla wasn’t his flavor when it came to sex. And Jo was as vanilla as a woman could be, from the gleaming blonde hair she usually kept fashionably confined in some sort of twist to the pink, pedicured toes that peeked out of spike-heeled sandals. In between she had a body made to showcase the tasteful designer gown his mother had gushed over.

  I want to fuck her. My way, though. Maybe she’s not all that plain vanilla after all. Right, Latimore. The minute you dragged out a flogger, she’d have the cops slapping you in cuffs and escorting you off to jail.

  Still, she’s got all the other qualities you want in a wife. Otherwise you wouldn’t be thinking of proposing.

  Jo’s hand felt warm through the fabric of his coat, and the subtle scent of her cologne had him halfway hard. Every sign she gave told him that if he took her home tonight, she’d let him fuck her. Testing the waters, he slipped an arm around her waist, laying his hand ever so carefully above her hipbone. “I don’t think I mentioned it before, but you look mighty pretty tonight.”

  “Thank you. You’re not too bad yourself.” Her tone was soft, almost submissive.

  She was no submissive. But she was good company, and she fit in with society’s idea of what a doctor-socialite’s mate should be. Hell, he didn’t know. Something was holding him back yet pushing him toward her. As inhibited as Jo was in bed, she wasn’t as bad a lover as the subs he’d taken at Club Rio Brava would be as life partners. The idea of bringing Snake Woman, his most frequent partner in club scenes, to a function like this was so ridiculous as to make him shake his head.

  Professor Higgins had transformed Eliza Doolittle into a lady in Pygmalion. But Tom figured that not even Higgins could transform Snake Woman. Of course, what did it say about him that he chose her most often when he went to the Club? If he was going to be honest with himself, he’d admit he chose the sub most likely to satisfy him sexually but least likely to meet his emotional needs because he’d just about given up finding one who could do both. With Snake Woman, he wouldn’t fool himself with any illusions, as he had with Jo.

  Snake Woman—he didn’t even know her real name—was too far gone to give a damn about how she appeared in the real world, interested only—as far as Tom could discern—in satisfying her sexual compulsion to be totally controlled. “Want to stop by the buffet?” he asked, hoping no one had noticed his moment of introspection.

  “Yes, for a few minutes. The spread looks pretty good. Maggie?” Eli looked down at his wife and smiled.

  “I’ll take some of the veggies and dip, love.” Maggie turned to Jo. “All right. This is my first year
in San Antonio, and I can’t get Eli to tell me much about Fiesta except that he’s going to take me to the opening event at the Alamo. Maybe you can fill me in while the men get us some hors d’oeuvres.”

  “Tom could tell you more about the history. His great-great grandfather was one of the founders, and he’s on the committee for the River Parade. Basically, Fiesta’s ten days of eating, partying and celebrating the heroes of the Alamo. It’s been happening in springtime now for nearly a hundred years. I think there were only a few years it was canceled because of war or maybe during the Great Depression. You won’t want to miss the parade, or the Oyster Bake over on St. Mary’s campus. Tom?” Jo shot him a smile before he could head to the buffet table.

  She was obviously in her element, a born-and-bred local firmly entrenched in the traditional spring festivities and obviously impressed by his pedigree. “Jo’s exaggerating. It was my great grandfather who helped get the whole thing started. The men in my family all started reproducing late. Anyhow, you two won’t want to miss the River Parade. It’s unique, plus you can watch it from one of the restaurants along the Riverwalk. If you two ladies will excuse me, I’m going to join Eli and get us some snacks.”

  For a few minutes they sat, sipping champagne and munching delicious but not very filling appetizers. Tom could tell Eli was getting tired of the small talk. So was he.

  Eli took his and Maggie’s plates and handed them to a roving waiter. “I think we’ll take off and get to bed early,” Eli said, his muscular arms reaching around his wife’s slender waist and cupping her belly protectively. “It was nice to meet you, Jo.” With that, Eli and Maggie disappeared into the crowd.

  “They’re sweet, obviously newlyweds,” Jo said, her voice and smile sincere as she laid a hand over Tom’s and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll bet you’d like to make your escape, too, wouldn’t you?”

  He would. Maybe he could develop a taste for vanilla if he tried hard enough. It wasn’t as if Jo would accept sharing him with the subs at Club Rio Brava the way his mother had turned a blind eye to his dad’s frequent overnight absences. And he respected her too much to marry her and cheat behind her back. “We’d better go tell Mom goodnight.”

  “All right.”

  * * * * *

  Several months later

  “I’m relieved we pulled this case off.” Eli Calhoun wadded up his mask and gown and tossed them into the bin after they’d both walked into the surgeons’ lounge following a particularly grueling Thursday afternoon case. “So what’s happening with you, Tom?”

  “Not much. Work and more work, and an occasional night out at the club.”

  Eli grinned. “What about that gorgeous blonde you’ve been showing off at all the hospital functions? Anything going on there?”

  “Nope.” There never had been, beyond the friendship Tom and Jo enjoyed. “We go out once in a while, but I doubt that will happen often, now that she’s found the guy I imagine she’ll eventually marry. I could love her, except…”

  “Except you’re into domination and she’s not the type to submit? I sensed that when you introduced her to Maggie and me.” Eli opened his locker and started changing into street clothes. “Speaking of Maggie, I’d better hurry. We’re going out for dinner since she’s off call now.”

  Tom tried to tamp down the envy he couldn’t help feeling. “Morning sickness getting to her, huh?” he asked in a teasing tone.

  “A little.” Eli’s grin conveyed a lot of pride, as if he were the only man on earth to make his woman pregnant. “We’re taking it easy now, nesting. I don’t want her to overdo it, which is why I convinced her to go out on leave.”

  “You’re one lucky SOB, you know.” Not too many Doms could find a sex slave who shared not only their professions but also their places in local society. Tom certainly had never run across such an ideal woman.

  “Yeah, I know. I’m hoping you find someone like her, my friend.” Eli paused then laughed. “Not that someone as ugly as you deserves a woman as great as Maggie, of course. If you find her, you’ll probably have to hide your Dom hat and beg her to give you the time of day.”

  “You’re nuts. If you can latch on to a woman like Maggie then I should be able to do it, too. After all, you may have muscles on your muscles, but your social graces leave a lot to be desired.”

  “What can I say? I’m just a ranch boy, deep inside. I’ve got other qualities, though. Ones Maggie thinks more about than whether or not I pick up the right fork or remember to open the car door for her.”

  Despite the touch of understanding underlying the humor in Eli’s voice, it did give Tom food for thought. The last couple of times he’d been to the Club, he’d been leaving as he noticed a Domme on the floor. She hadn’t seen him, but something about her had tugged at him. Although she’d been wielding a flogger on the wimpy ass of a groveling male sub, he’d sensed something vulnerable about her. Maybe it was that slightly wounded look in her eyes, or the fact she didn’t seem to be enjoying what she was doing the way he always did when he was with a sub. Or maybe it was her lush, rounded curves that attracted him. Or the heavy nipple rings he had trouble imagining a Domme choosing for herself.

  He’d disregarded the instant attraction because of course he didn’t lean that way. But maybe he should take a closer look. If she was there tonight and unoccupied, perhaps he’d invite her to play with him and Snake Woman and see what happened. If nothing else, he could resolve this niggling feeling about her.

  “How’re you liking marriage?” Tom asked.

  “To Maggie? I love it. Love her.”

  “You don’t miss the BDSM scene?” He and Eli had finished medical school the same year and discovered early on that they shared a need to dominate their sex partners. Tom had invited Eli to join Club Rio Brava when he came to San Antonio last year to join Mark Blackstone and Kurt Silverman’s trauma surgery team.

  Eli shook his head. “We make our own scenes. Not as much now as before we found out about the baby. Once in a while we drop in at the club, but I don’t need it the way I used to, and I’m certain Maggie doesn’t, either.” Approaching forty as Tom was now, Eli had settled down with a woman who shared his lifestyle but who outwardly seemed as conventional and socially savvy as Jo.

  “Enjoy your night off. Tell Maggie I offered congratulations to you both.” Tom put on a clean set of scrubs and grabbed his pants and shirt out of the locker. He was off to Club Rio Brava, but the prospect of slaking his lust had dulled by comparison to the life his friend had lucked into.

  * * * * *

  What the hell was the matter with him? Tom kept stopping, almost turning back toward San Antonio every few miles. For a long time he sat in his car at a shady spot on the winding road along the river, thinking. Trying to weigh his conflicting needs for kinky sex against an equally strong desire for a lifetime relationship with a woman who fulfilled all his nonsexual requirements for a partner.

  A soft breeze set in motion the new, bright green leaves that were beginning to sprout. Pussy willows swayed down at the river’s edge where water lapped against them, higher than usual following last week’s rains.

  Nature was starting anew. As he’d tried to do.

  Tom understood now why his dad had lived two lives, one with him and his soft-spoken, beautiful mother and the other with a string of subs at the club a little farther down the road. Too bad Tom wasn’t cut out to follow his father’s example, at least as far as his sex life went. He wasn’t into subterfuge, and he wasn’t into women who wouldn’t demand fidelity.

  Fuck it. He might have had Jo in mind when he’d bought a three-carat diamond at that estate auction three months ago and stashed it away in the wall safe in his bedroom. But he hadn’t given it to her. Now he never would. She’d cut him loose, which didn’t bother him nearly as much as it should have if what he felt for her was love.

  His mom had been disappointed when she’d learned Jo was getting serious about one of the partners at her office. Johanna suited her just
fine as a potential daughter-in-law. Too bad. It was he, not his mom, who’d have to live with the woman. And he wanted a woman who loved playing kinky games.

  Tom’s recent effort at making a fresh start with his personal life was over. Turning the key in the ignition, he listened to the engine purr for a minute then headed out for the last half-mile of his journey back to hedonistic pleasure. No strings, no pretense.

  When he got to the rustic clubhouse, Tom slid out of his car and went inside. His cock was hard as stone, and he needed to ease his lust and his frustration with a real, live woman—not with the animated Barbie doll he’d tried for the last three months to tell himself he loved. He tried not to care that his partner for the evening would have to be one of the club subs. Yeah, he’d have loved having a partner to share every facet of his life, but he wasn’t seeing that happening, and he didn’t mind all that much. He was here for sex, the kinkier, the better. Besides, he thought the red vintage BMW at the end of the parking lot might have been Snake Woman’s, and he lengthened his stride, anxious to see the sub with the serpent once more.