Lost in Light by Kat Kingsley Page A

the two of them.
    “That’s fine. I’ll see you soon.”
    “Bye Rache!”
    I had two hours to occupy myself before Liam got home. Jumping up off my bed I went into the kitchen to feed the suddenly starving Ansel, and make myself a cup of tea. With tea in hand I wandered back into my bedroom to see my alarm clock claiming that only ten minutes had passed. It was going to be a long two hours.
    Blowing softly across the hot liquid I remembered Professor Davis saying something about BDSM and lifestyles the night before. Parking my tea and myself in front of the computer I pulled up Firefox to see if I could figure out just what it was that I was getting myself into. Words like restraint, intense sensory stimulation, bondage, hot wax, and blindfolds swam in front of my eyes on the screen. The restraint and blindfolds I could understand, but hot wax? Why would anyone want to pour hot wax on someone else? Did he want to do that to me?
    My tea forgotten, I was sucked down into the world of Wikipedia and Google searches, reading about bottoms and tops, ball gags, spreader bars, and floggers. Each new nugget of information pulled me deeper into that world, scaring and titillating me all at once until I was a confused mass of agitated excitement.
    The distant sound of Liam’s key in the front door brought me back to myself. Quickly turning off my computer I pulled on my jeans and a clean t-shirt, untied my braid and ran my fingers through my wavy hair.
    “Hey you,” Liam said from the doorway.
    “Hey you, too,” I replied with a smile.
    “So what do you have in mind?” he asked, stepping over to my open closet to rifle through my clothes.
    “A skirt or a dress? Maybe something a little, umm, sexy?” I ventured, my cheeks hot as I blushed.
    “Just some guy, huh?” Liam asked with a laugh and a knowing smile. “What’s his name?”
    “Matt,” I blurted, remembering Professor Davis’s email.
    Best to stick to the truth as much as possible.
    “Cool, let’s go shopping!”
    ***
    Liam beamed as he pulled into the parking spot outside the H&M store.
    “I’ve been dying to come here!” he said, stepping out of the car. Running my fingers through my hair I fought to bring it back under some semblance of control. Deciding it was a hopeless case I settled for piling it on top of my head and hiding it beneath the baseball cap I kept hidden in the glove box. I loved riding it Liam’s shiny red Mustang, but it was always a detriment to my hair.
    “What’s the big deal? It’s just a store,” I groused as I shut my door. Glancing at my watch I bit my lip, it was already after eleven, less than eight hours until I had to be at Professor Davis’s house.
    “What?” I asked when I looked up at Liam and saw the horrified expression on his face.
    “Just a store? Oh Rache, you have so much to learn!”
    If only you knew! I thought with a rueful smile.
    Grabbing me by the arm he pulled me headlong into the store, and my own personal hell.
    I enjoy shopping for clothes as much as any other girl, but shopping with Liam could tax anyone’s patience. He is meticulous, almost ruthless, when it comes to shopping. He will attack a sales rack with the same tenacious savagery as a lion attacking a gazelle. He has to pour over every single rack and table, making sure that he hasn’t missed some spectacular find. I on the other hand suffer from a serious case of ADD shopping and am easily distracted by pretty, shiny things.
    After an hour we had it narrowed down to three options – an awful mustard yellow skirt reminiscent of something my grandmother would have worn in the fifties, a skin tight patterned jersey dress that barely covered my ass, and a flared skirt in soft black lace that hit just above my knee and seemed to float when I walked.
    Guess who picked which.
    “Definitely the jersey,” Liam said, holding up the patterned scrap of cloth proudly.
    “I don’t think so,” I protested, fingering the black skirt