Chapter 1

"You're never gonna find one. Just give up; they don't exist," Bella said.

Rose sighed. "One more time, please? We'll be more likely to be accepted if there are three of us there."

Her pleading eyes broke down Bella's resolve. "Fine, but this is the last time. I can't keep doing this . . ."

Alice smiled. She seemed to be the go-between, understanding both women completely. "Maybe we'll get lucky this time and they'll accept us."

Rose's chest squeezed painfully. They had to accept them, they just had to. She needed this more than anything. "Thank you. I'll pay for all the drinks, including the ones for your subs."

Bella rolled her eyes and her shoulders sagged. Even though she was usually the most soft-spoken of the three, Rose could see what Bella was thinking. It was as loud as if she yelled it: One more rejection by a man, and I will kill somebody!

Alice was practically tearing her clothes off, she was so excited. "I can feel it; it's going to happen this time."

Bella stopped them from leaving her place; blocked them at the front door. "Be realistic, please?" She dropped her gaze then took a deep breath before continuing, "How many times have we heard that there are no male subs at this club?"

"Every time we try to get in under general admission," Rose answered, her heart dropping into a frightening free-fall. "But—"

"But nothing," Bella interrupted. "This time is not going to be different. There are too few males into this kind of lifestyle, and they get snatched up right away. I'm not going to get my hopes up."

Alice had already told them she didn't care tonight if she got a submissive, a switch or even a Dom. She blamed her gorgeous boss, Tim. According to her, he was sexy as hell, and bossy, bossy, bossy. Not her type at all. But for some reason, she liked to fantasize about disciplining and spanking his ass red as she thrust a strap-on into that tight ass of his.

"It's just an hour," Rose said, her voice trailing off. She was losing steam, thanks to Bella.

"Oh, who the fuck cares anymore! It's a guaranteed hookup if we get into that club as staff. I'm going to put myself down as a switch and hope I get lucky by finding the man that can handle my intense need to punish him for not understanding his own body." Alice grabbed her handbag full of her favorite toys and unlocked the door. "Coming?" She laughed at the double meaning of her word, swung her purse over her shoulder and refused to wait any longer.

.

.

.

Rose held her breath the moment she stepped into the room.

She coughed right away—the hazy fog of smoke hung dense in the air. Already, she was thinking this was a bad idea. She detested smokers, and it seemed like half the men here were puffing on cigarettes.

Ick!

She would need a shower and have to burn these clothes immediately to get all of the grimy nicotine out of her presence.

Bella looked worse. Her eyes belied her broken spirit.

Stupid Doug, breaking up with Bella. They had such a great relationship, or so Rose thought. Bella was having a hard time getting over it.

Catching him cheating with her best friend from work was devastating. As it was, Bella started a new job this week as well. Nothing seemed to be going the poor woman's way. That was why Rose dragged her friend here. She needed a distraction, even if for only an hour, and that's exactly what this place offered.

The club, Just an Hour, was trying something new to weed out applicants that didn't fit their criteria. They had set up this different type of interview process at a nondescript vanilla restaurant.

They got hundreds of applications a month, and they only accepted one hundred-fifty as trainees, and fifty as trainers, per quarter.

She grabbed a seltzer at the bar and then signed in at the front. Her nerves were buzzing.

This had to work.

Just an Hour knew they were the best BDSM club in California. And she knew she'd fit in if she could fit them.

Rose followed their underground news like a stalker. She salivated at any morsels of information she heard of a male submissive trainee entering their ranks.

Her mind raced with all the possibilities this could bring. She put a number above her right breast, ready to get started.

Rose was sexy, alluring, and she knew it. Her hazel eyes and long, straight platinum blonde hair and voluptuous figure made her look like she belonged on a porno mag.

Men flocked to her, until they found out what she was really like.

Rose took a seat toward the middle, hoping it would increase her chances.

"Please, once you've taken a number, write below it your preference: Dom, submissive, or switch," the mediator announced.

She knew he wasn't one of the owners, so she barely glanced in his direction.

The soft murmur of the crowd made her scalp tingle with the thrill of possibly finding somebody compatible.

She gazed around again, hoping to find at least one of the three Masters, the owners of the club, hidden in the mix.

Would they like and recommend her? Would they respect what she did? She only needed two of the three to give her a glowing recommendation. That was all it required.

She was excellent at interviewing for jobs—this should be no different.

Her eyes went down to her plunging neckline. It was classy—not sleazy.

She hadn't written down her preference on her badge.

Rose didn't want to take it off and mess up the sticker, then she'd have to go get a new one.

Her stilettos were already taking their toll on her ankles.

Instead of walking back up to the front, she stood up, found the closest man with an erection and handed him her Sharpie.

"Excuse me?" she asked, her voice soft and seductive, her eyes sparkling with desire.

He licked his lips—obnoxious! But not as nauseating as his blatant ogling.

"How can I help you, pet?" he asked.

Clearly a Dom.

"Can you please write D. O. M. M. E. under my number?" She batted her lashes at him, hoping he wouldn't turn her down right away.

"Sure thing," he said, his thick Texan accent bleeding through.

She shivered at his touch, but not for the reasons he thought.

He was a big ol' turn-off.

"How about I write switch instead?" he offered.

"No thanks." Her tone was colder than the arctic temperature of the room, forcing her nipples to blast right through her blouse and bra.

"Honey, you might want to rethink th—"

"I said, no thanks. If you can't handle a simple task like—"

Rose was cut off by a tall, dark-haired man. "I'll do it for you, beautiful."

She turned her eyes on him, only to meet the brightest, electric blue eyes she'd ever encountered.

They looked familiar, but she didn't think anything of it.

She ripped the marker out of the Dom's hands, and handed it to the man labeled as a switch before her, his number twenty-two.

Deuce-deuce was breathing raggedly already, and looking at her like he had a secret. His smirk was allowable, but only because she wanted his help with this simple task.

"You done yet?" she teased.

"I find that taking one's time is always best—you get a better result."

She laughed. His innuendos were immature at best, but he was slightly amusing.

"I hope you find the right woman for you, and this club allows you to train with them," she said.

"Who says I'm going there to be trained?"

"Yeah, you act like a trainer," she mocked him, swallowing down a chuckle. She had to be careful even if this man was a bad joke from some awful B movie.

"Actually," he leaned in to whisper, getting a little too close to her, "I'm just here because I'm buddies with two of the Masters. They wanted me to give them some feedback."

"They do that?" her voice rose, even though she was whispering back. Her eyes were calm, but inside she was panicking.

"Of course." He stood back up, smirking. Good Lord, he was tall. She could probably give him a blow job standing up. "They don't always get around to each applicant, so they need some help and outside opinions from patrons of the club."

"You're a patron?" Her mouth went dry.

"Yeah . . ." He smiled and dimples flashed at her, making her wish she had a gag to shut him up. His attitude was disarming. He acted like he was careless, but there was something under the surface more than a rich, arrogant SOB, bored with his life. How she'd love to hear him scream for mercy.

"Well, I hope you enjoy the process," she said, unsure of what else to say.

"I can point them out to you if you'll do a favor for me." He was leaning over her again, his height continuing to be impressive and more noticeable now that she was hyper-aware of everything. It all seemed a ruse—a set-up for her failure. How was she supposed to survive this when the room might be crawling with their spies?

"No thanks. I like to make it on my own merits. I don't cheat." Her right eye twitched and her stomach knotted.

"I'll bet you don't." He chuckled. "I remember that about you." He squeezed her upper arm and then walked away.

What the hell? Did she know this ass?

She stared right at his backside. He did have a fine ass, but he was a moron—driving her nuts inside of five minutes and giving her lock-jaw for something as tedious as clenching her teeth together, rather than something good like a blow job.

He looked over his shoulder, smug look on his face.

Asshole. That's what he was.

And he probably had a nice tight puckered one of those too that she wanted to get ahold of.

Damn, what a waste of a man.

She wound her way back to her seat, and made sure he had written Domme for her. He did. In bold letters. God, he was insufferable. But hopefully she didn't just ruin her chances by being so blatantly rude to him, striking his ego with her independence.

"Hi, there," a man's high pitched voice said.

She was repulsed without even looking at him.

Maybe she should have stayed home like Bella told them all to do.

She hoped her friends were having a good time. So far things were looking worse than take-home Tex-Mex and a DVD of a Channing Tatum movie. Another waste of a fine-looking man. No chance he'd let her fuck him her way.

"Hi," she said, worried about looking up.

"I'm Edward," he said, his tone pleasant, friendly.

Okay, do it, Rosie-cat, look up. Show him you're in control.

"Just a minute, let me get my notepad out," she said, leaning over, rummaging through her bag and stalling a little.

"No problem." The smile in his voice was obvious.

Already looking down my blouse. They all do . . .

"Take your time," he said.

She pulled out the pad of paper, her favorite pen, and opened it to the first blank page.

Edward, she wrote with her calligraphic writing.

He waited patiently. So far she liked his attitude, but that voice—yick! Could she demand he be silent now?

Oh, wait . . . That would defeat the purpose of interviewing.

"Okay, so how old are you?" she asked, then braved a glance up.

He was the typical accountant type. Glasses, button up shirt, but decent body. He was cleanly shaved and owned nice green eyes. His confidence was okay, but she wanted a submissive, not a doormat. She'd squash him flat in ten seconds when she grabbed that odd colored hair of his. It was like bronze with glitter in it.

"Twenty-nine," he said.

"And what do you do for a living?" she asked, her resolve sagging. This was a fail. She was a failure. She'd never find the right man willing to let her command he live and breathe only to her contentment as she tied him down and showed him pleasure.

"Um . . . well, right now I'm starting my own business out of my home."

"Oh, yeah? And what type of business is it?" she asked, tapping her index finger on her teeth. God, she wanted to bite him, but not for fun.

"It's a tax consulting business."

"Do I make you nervous?" She glanced down at the pad, already forgetting his name. Oh, yeah . . . Horrid name."Edward?"

"Is that what you're hoping for?" He rubbed at his temple above his glasses.

"Look, I don't want to waste your time, if you're looking for somebody a little less intimidating, might I suggest you look for my friend? Her name is Bella. She's a brunette, short and stacked. Her voice is very soothing and soft, not rough like mine. She'll go easy on you. But don't be fooled, she's a Dominatrix too . . ." Rose filled her lungs, and waited for him to get up.

"It's not supposed to work that like. The rules state—"

"Fuck the rules," she said, her voice hoarse. "This is about control and making my own rules for a man that can trust me enough to do that. Find her—you won't be sorry," She waved him away.

He was flustered as he got up and moved quickly past a few of the Doms around her.

This was a man's world, and she never fit in.

Nothing new.

Ten more interviews came and went, and they were worse than Edward's.

He'd been a little confusing. Some moments he acted like a sub, some he acted like a Dom, but he hadn't written switch on his tag. Was he one of the people the Masters had planted to spy for them?

Her mind raced as she considered how much she wanted this, and all the men she'd dated over the years. It always ended badly when she got bored with letting them be in charge.

It wasn't her fault their skills were lackluster, and she was bored with the typical moves.

Why did they freak out when she wanted to play with their prostate? She knew how to make it feel good.

She sighed, and out of nowhere, the man from the beginning of the evening that wrote on her badge for her, plopped down in the seat across from her.

"So, how's it going, Rosie-cat? Found anybody interested yet?" he asked, smiling.

"First of all, how in the hell do you know my nickname? That kind of information is supposed to be kept from everybody here," she snapped.

He extended his hand across the table, and brushed his hand across the top of hers.

She allowed it, but only because he had connections.

He glanced at her fingers with hunger in his eyes, making her suck in a tight breath to keep from being turned-on by him. Her nails were short, unpolished, but manicured nicely. The way she needed them so she wouldn't hurt her sub—if she ever got one.

"You're hard-core, aren't you?" he egged her on.

"Look, I don't wanna be mean, but I need to see as many people as I can for this. So, if you don't mind, please move on to the next woman and harass her instead." She took a sip of her drink. It tasted flat.

"Not going well, huh? Well, I'm happy to point the Masters out to you now, so you can quit expending so much energy on the assholes that don't deserve your best behavior." He chuckled.

She cocked her head at him. "I told you, I don't ch—"

"Yeah, I got that, and I'm not a switch either. I'm not anything, just a horny fucker wanting to help some friends out." His grin was broader, his dimples deeper, and her patience so gone.

"I don't hand out sexual favors for you or anybody, because I don't need your help," she said. She picked up her pen, tapping it on her pad of paper, full of useless information about men she'd never date or touch, or even blink at. It was shoved back into her bag without another thought.

"I never said I wanted a sexual favor."

"Okay, fine. I'll listen to what you want, then will you leave me alone? And do it without dropping hints about who your buddies are" Her jaw tensed.

"Oh, you'll like this. It's nothing too shocking, but I need some help. There's this woman . . ."

"Oh, God!" she groaned, rolling her eyes and then stretching her neck. She was about ready to kick him in the shins under the table.

"Here, let me help you with that," he said, practically jumping across the table. His big hands were on her shoulders, massaging her. Then it hit her.

She saw those hands a month ago.

"You!" She all but screeched, "You're that asshole that groped me on that job site in LA!"

He snickered. "Took you long enough to figure it out. I thought maybe you've had so many lovers since then, that I blended in with the rest of 'em."

She tried to pry his fingers off her shoulders, but he kept massaging with a grip of steel. Sweet Jesus, she hated this man then and she hated him worse now.

"I slapped you," she said.

"Yes, you did." He remembered. She heard the smirk in his voice. It was too easy to picture the raging erection it likely induced right behind the back of her head.

He was touching her now, and the idea of that hard-on, bothered her.

But she was uninterested in him, so ignored it. Or tried to, desperately.

"Will you please stop touching me before I vomit?" she hissed.

"Relax, hon, you need my help. And if you're seen as a more flexible Domme, they'll be more likely to pick you. Plus, I'm causing attention to be brought this way. They'll think I'm doing this at your command."

She blinked hard. Dammit, he was right. This just might work.

"Okay, fine. I'll help you out. Who's the woman you're trying to win?" Her teeth ground together.

"She walked in with you, so I figure you know her."

"Brunette?"

"Nah," he said, and she shivered as he hit a deep point in her tissues. "I'm not into brunettes. They're a little too . . . insubstantial for my tastes. I'm into blondes."

Her gut tightened. Is he talking about me?

"Well, champ, my other friend considers herself a red-head right now, so if you want to get on her good side you'll refer to her as such." Alice had bleached her hair recently and added a bunch of red highlights, making her look wilder than ever.

"Good to know; thanks for the tip. I needed the help, and I knew you'd have the answers." His smile widened.

Her shoulders tensed up, regardless of his magical hands. Why did she care what this prick thought about Alice?

He leaned over, his lips brushing against her ear as he said, "One of my friends is looking at you right now."

And with that, he let go and moved on to the next station.

She sighed, then took a tentative glance around.

Not at all what she expected. It was the geek with the glasses: Edward.

Great!

A/N:

A few months ago, I went on a quest to read published erotica (had never read any before) since I was a fan of MOTU, and of course, her published version, Fifty Shades. I wanted to see why some people gave E. L. James some scathing reviews on both Amazon and Goodreads. The funny thing is, after reading several published erotica stories, I can see both points of view—I understand the haters and lovers. And in this process, got hooked to a few fabulous erotica writers.

This story is my homage to several stories I've read that I love, and also to relieve my frustration over finding nothing but crap when it came to stories of female Dommes.

I figured I'd share with you some of the tiles of the stories I admire in some of my A/Ns.

Let me start you off with my favorite series to date. It's Master at Arms. It's about former marines who are Doms and open up a BDSM club together. Since I self publish, and Kallypso Master does too, I really admire this author and champion her amazing success with these books. Her writing is crazy good and so emotionally engaging. She's really nice too; I've chatted with her online a few times. Love, love, love Master Adam (who's 20 years older than the woman he falls for) and Master Damian, with a self-loathing inducing disability, which he struggles to overcome constantly.

P.S. Almost all of these characters will be severely OOC, and there will be some differences in physical attributes. I'm taking creative license since this wasn't originally written as a Twilight fan fic. It's not so much laziness on my part to leave it that way; it's more the hankering to switch things up and make this different. I mean, how sick to death are we all of shopaholic, pixie Alice? I loved her in the Twilight series, but I need a break from the stereotypical fan fic version of her. If the bleached blonde hair with red highlights didn't tell you she would be quite a bit different in this one, then I don't know what ta tell ya.

Ta!

Chanse