"You are mine," I said with a voice that sounded much different from my own. It was lower, richer, and had an unquestionable authority about it.

He nodded. His body shook.

"Lie down for me," I said, and he promptly shifted his weight and lay back onto the packed earth floor. His muscles tensed with anticipation. This seemed like a different man in many ways, but when our eyes met, I knew it was still Keaton. That baby-blue hue bright with mischief, despite his very agreeable position beneath me. A trickster still.

I knelt astride him, desperate for our bodies to touch, but firm in the knowledge that I needed to withhold from him until he broke. Until he shattered from need. My fingers flew to the cord at my waist and I untied it. He licked his lips. He knew the game we'd be playing.

I reached over him, my breasts skimming his face, and bound his hands above his head. I tightened the hemp and I felt him grunt with satisfaction. Our eyes met and I knew he wanted more. He wanted pain and pleasure. My hand slipped again to the arrow at my hip and pulled it from the sheath. This time I fingered the point. His eyes widened. Not yet, something told me, start with something simpler.

I looked at the leather braids in my hand. What should I do with them?

A shadow in the mouth of the hut darkened a curvy shape on the floor. "Use them like the tawse," Scarlett said.

I awoke with a gasp.

My face was flattened on one side and drool had dampened my Roman Civilization textbook. Looks like that was the inspiration for my dream. Well, that and Keaton and . . . shit, Scarlett! I was supposed to go to her shop this afternoon! Falling asleep on my homework was decidedly not part of operation get-your-shit-together.

Wiping my moist chin and checking the mirror to make sure I didn't have any words imprinted there, I hustled over to Scarlett's shop. I passed a few of my teammates on the way, but walked hurriedly by.

"Woman on a mission," one of them muttered as I passed.

I didn't feel like explaining that I was going to their dreaded house mom's place for some back-room shenanigans.

I pushed open the door to Evening Star Treasures and heard bells tinkle softly. The room smelled of heady incense and sweet almond. Shelves were lined with vials of powders and liquids, tins of tinctures, and jars of herbs. Crystals twinkled on a display along with laminated cards that touted astrological signs.

I frowned. Scarlett really didn't seem the type to make decisions by the stars, and neither was I. The alignment of the universe had nothing to do with how I became me.

"Oh, stop frowning," I heard a voice say. I turned to the back of the room and there was Scarlett, all red hair and black vinyl, holding a long flowing pink curtain aside. "Are you coming or not?" she asked.

I walked over to her without a word. I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of the verbal pun, but I definitely wanted to know what was behind those long, soft pink curtains and how to use whatever I'd find back there.

She stood beside me as I pushed through, arms crossed. "Welcome to the Golden Apple."

I gulped. Instead of crystals and herbs, the walls here were lined with instruments of pain and pleasure. One wall alone held nearly two-dozen paddles, all different shapes and sizes and materials. I had only seen wooden ones at frat houses but I knew what they were for. I rubbed my ass idly, glad I'd only be on the giving end.

"You like what you see?"

I nodded. "I guess I just expected gray ties."

She giggled. "Oh, we have those too. Used one just yesterday."

My mouth moved but no words came out. Scarlett chuckled and took my hand. "Let me show you the ropes."

I felt my eyebrows nearly touch my hairline.

"Figuratively speaking. Or literally, if you like."

I nodded and she escorted me around the place. Around the corner from the paddle wall was a section of the store devoted to leather clothing. I wondered if the bra and panties I had picked were a bit too tame for Keaton, now that I was looking at ones that were pyramid-studded.

"I know it's a bit much for now," Scarlett said, nearly reading my mind, "but I'll get you to the beginner's stuff soon. Just wanted you to see everything first."

"Thanks."

The next section of the store was a wall of cheerfully colored phalluses. Some were only penis-like in concept, what with the pearls and batteries and Jesus, why does it have two ends?

"Do you have a vibrator?" Scarlett asked.

I shook my head no.

She pulled down a discreet little package that looked like a tube of lipstick. "Good for first-timers. Consider it a welcome gift from the Golden Apple. I'm really proud of you for taking this step-it's hard for young people to own up to their kink. You've earned this."

"This won't fool anyone," I grumbled. She quirked an eyebrow at me. "I never wear lipstick."

Scarlett snickered at my feeble joke and we continued through the store. I was particularly taken with her restraints section-not just handcuffs, but beautiful skeins of rope, framed pictures of people hanging in the most interesting sexual cocoons, and metal bars were some of the items that caught my eye.

"You like the idea of bondage more than pain," she noted, nodding.

"I guess," I said, skimming the section. It was true. I wanted to torture Keaton a bit, but really only playfully. But to pin him down? To immobilize him? Yes, please. "What's this?" I asked, pointing to something that just looked like shiny duct tape.

Scarlett grinned, all teeth. "That's bondage tape," she said, pulling a yard off the roll and spreading it wide. "Flexible, and sticks to itself and not your partner." Scarlett took my arm and wound the tape around it. At the end, she managed to fasten it simply by sticking two parts together. I touched the tape, felt its slick surface, and nodded.

"I want that."

Scarlett slipped three rolls onto her forearm and paraded me through the rest of the store. I ended up picking out a pair of patent leather heels and a tawse. She giggled at that.

"So, tell me about Mister Wonderful," she said as she rang me up.

I rolled my shoulders. "He's um, interesting." I didn't want to tell her who he really was, a rock god. Scarlett would probably say he was the one with the power and that I was just a stupid groupie. I also didn't want to disclose Keaton's secret preferences with her.

Scarlett licked her lips. "I like complicated ones. Tell me more."

I thought about it for a moment, and decided there were certainly things I could disclose. "He's a little mischievous, a little wild, but he wants me in control. He's definitely complicated."

She leaned forward across the counter and looked at me with frighteningly honest green eyes. "So do you want me to tell you how to do this or do you want to fumble your way into his bed? By the sound of him, I'd say you want to go in prepared."

"I don't even know what this is," I confessed, burying my face in my hands, joining her at counter level. Here was the hard part, admitting I was into this and that I was completely in over my head. I was supposed to be focusing on the tournament for goodness' sake, not picking out special tape that lets you tie someone up. My lucky roll should be all I need.

But it's not. So I let her continue.

"This is called BDSM. But I think we'll stick to the basics for now-dominance and submission. Power play. And you, my dear, hold the power."

I breathed in deep, letting her words fill the spaces between my desires. "So, does that make me a dominatrix?" I asked.

She clicked her tongue. "Does he plan on paying you?"

"No!" I said then hesitated. "I don't think so."

Scarlett nodded. "I'm a dominatrix, a professional who gets paid to entertain submissive men. You, my dear, would be a Domme-a dominant woman who enjoys when people submit to her. Similar, but different enough."

I nodded, soaking in the lingo.

"So what's Keaton?" I asked, shocked at myself for letting the name slip.

She didn't react to the name. Discretion must be part of this secret club or otherwise everyone would know each other's kinky secrets out there in the regular world.

"He's a submissive, or a sub. Although by the sound of his personality, he may be a switch. He may want to top you at one point."

"I'm always going to be on top?" I asked. This BDSM stuff was hard. I didn't know I'd go into it with a position in mind. Oh dear, I was thinking about sexual positions now. Then again, what else should I expect from my thoughts while I was in a sex shop. A kinky one at that.

She giggled and rifled through her desk. "No, top is your position of power. He's a bottom, but what I think may happen is that he may want to turn the tables on you at some point. He sounds complicated, and sometimes that means they want things and then they want something else entirely. Does that interest you, switching?"

I shook my head. "I like feeling in control."

She handed me a book but kept our eyes locked. "Then if he ever brings it up, tell him so. You should buy this and read it. It explains all the basics of our world."

Our world. The words tingled in my mind. I did feel like I was entering a new world after I passed through that curtain. One of leather and whips and tops and bottoms, nothing familiar but all enticing.

"Thank you," I said sincerely. "Can I come back? Maybe after I see him? Or possibly before, considering our next date is in a couple of weeks."

"Of course. I think you're going to enjoy yourself, but you still have a lot to learn. Come see me anytime. In fact," she said, pulling out a card, "text me if you have any questions in the meantime."

I was suspicious for a moment-she was being almost too nice. I paid for my kinky wares and took her card.

I picked up my bag of goodies and stuffed it into my backpack, a reminder of my ordinary world . . . one of books and basketball. Shit, some awful practices coming up. Chapel Hill means more than just Keaton, I had to remind myself. Basketball was my entire raison d'etre.

Scarlett let out a throaty laugh at my discretion. "Go get 'em!"

Before heading back to my dorm, I took a quick detour to the gym for some extra reps in the weight room. I had been working out with the team regularly, but a few additional sets wouldn't hurt. I had to be in top form. Maybe tonight I'd try for some extra sleep, too. And skip the late-night pizza we order all too often.

When I arrived back at the dorm room, Callie was all dolled up in snakeskin-print skinny jeans and a tight black top.

"Where are you going?" I asked, curious that she'd be slathering on lipstick instead of preparing for the game.

"The real question is why aren't you dressed yet?" she asked incredulously, eyeing my casual gear. I dropped my book bag and its secret cargo and shrugged.

"What's going on?"

Callie tsked at me. "Do you only check your phone when your rockstar boyfriend is calling?"

I shooshed her and pulled out my phone. Five missed texts.

"Seriously," I said, eyes narrowed. "Why would the boys' team be throwing a party for us tonight?"

Callie pulled on some black boots. "Because they're our counterparts and they want to celebrate our success in moving on in the tournament?"

I shook my head at her. "This is some sort of trap. They're trying to get us tired and hungover so we suck at practice and Coach gets mad. And you know they want to get further than us in the tournament since we always top them."

Yup, definitely blushed at saying top them.

"You're overanalyzing."

"You're naive."

She poked her finger at my chest. "You're the one who's naive! I've had to explain a lot of sex stuff to you in the past few days, woman. Now, if you'd only just borrow my Kindle, we wouldn't have to have uncomfortable conversations about anal beads."

"We have never talked about anal beads, and we never will," I said, changing into something a little nicer but not by much. "I'll go with you, okay? Just don't drink and stay out too late."

She grabbed my shoulders and jiggled them. "Loosen up! Live a little! Don't you care about impressing them?"

I frowned. "If you want to impress the guys' team, let's do it by winning against UNC in two weeks."

WE ARRIVED AT THE BOYS' team's house, which was tucked down a residential side street close to Ell Drive. This was unofficial, of course, because while athletes had to stay on campus, they needed a place to blow off steam. The guys didn't have a houseparent, just one of the captains' older brothers who rented the place to them. They had a lot more freedom than we did.

And a basketball court in their backyard. Talk about an advantage.

A few girls from the team were there already, drinking and socializing. Nobody was shitfaced, but it was early. I didn't want to police them, but at the same time I couldn't sit idly by and watch us get yelled at tomorrow because of their stupidity.

Wes and a few other boys were scattered across the sprawling farmer's porch, sitting in large white Adirondack chairs and watching their teammates play beer pong on the lawn.

"Better keep the booze away from Pops," he said loudly. "She was so wasted the other night on Ell Drive with all the other pathetic freshmen drinking their faces off."

His cohorts chuckled politely, but they all knew it was a setup. They knew the truth.

"So what were you doing there, Wes?" I retorted.

Wes shrugged. "It was decent entertainment."

Callie and I walked past them and into the house where we grabbed bottled water. It was easier to show the team that we were being safe than having to defend against Wes and his stupid pictures. Tonight I was prepared for his assholery.

"Hey Callie and Thea, glad to see you guys looking alive," Donelle joked as we entered. The other upperclassmen girls saluted us as we approached them. We tried to casually enter their private little world. I wanted to be one of them, dammit, and that wasn't going to happen if I sulked on the sidelines and kept my mouth shut.

"Feeling much better and ready for UNC," I replied with a smile, toasting my water with Reese's beer. They smiled and nodded.

"We need more than just Coach's strategy to go against that team. They've improved a lot since we last played them," said Jennifer, a six-four junior poised to take the captainship.

The captains nodded.

"They only come alive in the second half," I noted. "If you watch any replays, you'll see they start to attack once the other team is tired. They save their energy."

Donelle's eyes bugged. "Really?"

I pulled out my phone. "Let me pull up some examples. They're really clever about it. They play at fifty percent for the entire first half. If you look at their scores, you wouldn't know, but if you compare where they are at the half and then the final score, you'll see. Ever notice how they always come from behind?" I found a YouTube video of one of their games and showed the speed of the first half, and fast-forwarded to a clip of the second half. It was clear that they were ramping up their game later on.

Reese shook her head. "Thea, not bad. Thank you."

I shrugged and tried to play it cool. "Just something I noticed. Happy to help."

Callie clapped her hand on my shoulder and grabbed another water. I smiled, feeling good about actually asserting myself. I guess this Domme stuff could bleed into other parts of my life. It made me really happy to have the team listen to what I had to say. And to think it was valuable instead of dismissing it as just some freshman's opinions.