“I have nothing to do with it.” I tried to distance myself from what sounded like a long-running feud. Tina just shook her head and gave up.
Chapter Seventeen
As the weeks wore on, life seemed very simple. I finished transcribing all the tapes, and Helen was finishing the last rewrites. As I watched her make the corrections to the scores, I realized how deeply in love I was. Each stroke of her pencil across the paper made me yearn for the stroke across my skin. Our days had become serene and quiet. We’d do our own work silently and shared the space with a gentleness that radiated comfort. I was in heaven.
“How long do you think it will take you to redo these pages and transpose the sax parts?”
I almost didn’t hear the question.
“Are you asleep, Little Butch?”
“I’m sorry,” I said sheepishly. “I guess I was daydreaming. Let me take a look.” I reached for the manuscript and looked through the pages. “About three days.”
Helen sat back in her red leather chair. “You amaze me.”
I lowered my eyes, warmed by her compliment.
“I’ll schedule a reading for the week after next. If it goes well and I don’t decide to do many rewrites, we can schedule a performance for that week I’m at the Cookery in mid-September.”
“Mid-September?” I hadn’t even thought that far in advance. “That’s only a few weeks!”
“Yes.” She smiled. “I didn’t think it would be finished before I left. You’ve done a miraculous job.”
“Me?” I said in awe. “It’s your music.” My head was swimming, but my stomach began to turn. I’d forgotten that Helen was scheduled to go on a five-week tour in the fall. Well, not forgotten, just trying to hope it’d go away. I didn’t want to think of five weeks without her.
“It’s my music, but you brought it to life. It would have stayed on those tapes for the rest of my life if you hadn’t written it down. It wouldn’t ever be heard if it wasn’t for you.” She studied me as I searched for words to respond. “Come over here and kiss me.”
I was shocked to hear those words, but I rushed to obey. I knelt beside her and leaned up to kiss her cheek, but she turned, and our lips met. I kissed her tentatively, but she pulled me to her and kissed me deeply, passionately. Her tongue pushed into my mouth, and I was swept away with the power of her embrace.
Never before had I ever been so overwhelmed by a kiss. I felt as if I was falling into her. Her tongue, her lips, her breath mesmerized me. I was awash in a sea of feelings so intense, I thought I was going to float away.
Helen at last pulled back. “Let’s go upstairs,” she whispered. Taking my hand, she led me. I started for the door of the dungeon, but she stopped me. “Not tonight, Mickey.” She smiled. I was stunned. She never used my real name. But she took my hand and led me to her room.
I had peeked into her room before when she wasn’t home, but I’d never trespassed. I’d been forbidden from entering, and it never occurred to me to disobey. I stopped at the door, hesitant.
“Come on in, Little Butch.” I couldn’t read the look in her eyes. She threw back the white satin bedspread and turned, holding out her hand.
That night I saw another side of Helen Robins. She made love to me in her own bed, roughly, as I’d expected, but with a sweetness I hadn’t anticipated.
And she allowed me, at last, to make love to her. I feasted on her body, worshipping each and every inch of her, at last coming to rest at that one place I truly adored. I continued for hours until I felt her shudder, and she reached down to bring my face up to hers.
That night, I slept in the arms of Helen Robins, surrounded by her warmth, her fragrance, and her love.
* * *
Helen and her band—Joe on bass and Dennis on drums—rehearsed for hours at the studio. At night, if the rehearsal had gone well, we’d spend time together, sometimes in the dungeon, more often listening to tapes of the rehearsal.
But time was scarce. There was a sense of urgency as the days passed, phone calls to make, rehearsals to schedule, details to see to. Even though it wouldn’t be a full performance with four horns and six backup singers as Helen had scored it, it still took on a life of its own. Johnny Williams was already rehearsing, and Roz Maxwell would come into town to do the other vocals. Helen had also arranged for Stephen to come down from Boston to play a couple of the saxophone solos.
I looked at Helen as she hung up the phone. The first of the four performances in the small Midtown club was only three days away. She looked at me and sighed deeply. “Roz sends her love, Little Butch. She’s looking forward to seeing you again.”
I swallowed. “Seeing me?”
Helen roared with laughter. “You didn’t think she’d forget you, did you? She’s tried very hard to get me to loan you out or sell you to her.”
I swallowed hard. Was I starting to sweat? “Would you do that?”
Helen just studied me for a moment. “No. Do you want me to loan you to Roz? That decision’s yours.”
I felt as if I was being squeezed in a trap. “N…no,” I stammered. “I think once was enough.”
“Are you sure?”
“Do you want to loan me to Roz?”
Helen sat back, her eyes unreadable. “You made a big impression on her. She’s a very powerful dom in this lifestyle. She could do a lot for you…both in a dungeon and in a recording studio.”
I sank to my knees. “You give me everything I want.”
Helen placed her hand on my cheek. “But I can’t add to your piano career. You’d be in direct competition to me.” She smiled. “You might even replace me in history.”
“Oh, never, never. I could never replace you. No one will ever be able to replace the great Helen Robins.”
“Oh.” Helen sat back, laughing, “You are so slick! You always have the right things to say, don’t you, my Mickey Mouth? One of these days, that mouth of yours is going to get you into big trouble.”
“Only for you,” I whispered, my head bowed, not just in submission but to hide the smile.
I could feel her leering at me. “8:57, Little Butch. Thirty-four minutes.”
Chapter Eighteen
I paced for hours as the rehearsal dragged on. I’d have thought it was my music that was going to be born the next night. Every time there was a pause, a mistake, a hiccup in the music, I’d search my score and make notes. I made sure that each correction, addition, or change Helen wanted was noted so that I could correct the final score.
Johnny’s deep baritone roared out the music. It was exactly as I had heard it in my head, precisely as Helen had written it. And Sir Roz was spectacular. The music had been written just for her, and she sang it with every bit of her expertise, as if she’d lived with it for years.
During a break, as Helen was discussing one of the solos with Stephen, Roz ambled up to where I was busy making my notes. “Well, well. You certainly must have ears of steel.” She laughed. “I was amazed when Helen sent me the full score. That’s quite a piece of work you’ve done.”
“Thank you, sir,” I murmured, my eyes lowered.
She laughed. “Call me Miss Maxwell, dear. We’re in public,” she said in a very conspiratorial voice.
“I’m sorry…Miss Maxwell.”
She shook her head. “Tell me, do you ever write your own music?”
“I have written a bit, but it isn’t anything like this.”
“No, I guess nothing is. I’m surprised you’ve found any time at all with all this going on.”
“Well, it helps when I’ve been listening to the tapes for too long, and I can’t hear anything anymore. At least I can write just what I hear in my head.”
“If you’ve got anything you think I’d sound good with, send me a copy. I’d like to see it.”
“Thank you. I think you’d sound wonderful with anything.” I kept my eyes lowered, feeling her stare pierce me. To have someone like Roz sing my work? That could put my name on the map.
“Don’t tell your mistress you said that.” She winked. “It might make her jealous.”
I shook my head. “She knows I love her.”
“Yes, she does.” With that, she walked away to talk to Dennis and Joe.
“Okay, let’s run that last duet one more time,” Helen’s called. As everyone took their places, Helen said to me, “I think we’ve got this baby just about wrapped up. What do you think?”
“It’s spectacular. It’s everything you wanted.”
“Really?” Helen looked at me thoughtfully. “Do me a favor? Play the piano part this time. I want to hear it from out front.” Without waiting for my answer, she turned. “Okay, everyone, take it from letter L. I want to hear the finale. If it goes well, I think we can put it to rest until tomorrow night. You’ve all worked so very hard. I’m very pleased.”
As I slid onto the piano bench, everyone looked from Helen to me.
“Everyone ready?” she asked. “Let’s do it.”
Without hesitation, Dennis counted into the piece.
I don’t remember playing, but the music soared. It felt as if Helen was using my hands, and I waited just above, playing exactly what she wanted as she used me the way she used me in the dungeon, to do her every wish, to fulfill her desires. I felt her power surging through me, and at that moment, I was totally hers. I belonged to her just as much as the music did. She’d written me, too.
The opera rolled to its climax as if urged to the ultimate orgasm. As Stephen’s sax sobbed its soul out, Roz’s voice hit notes I didn’t realize she had. As the music faded to its final release, stunned silence filled the room.
Then raucous applause broke out. All of the bartenders and waiters setting up for the night’s crowd stopped and cheered. But the loudest of all was Helen.
“Yes! Yes!” she crowed. “That’s it. That’s just it!”
I realized that the sound of the applause had changed, and as I looked up, still in a stupor, I realized everyone was looking at me. And applauding. I glanced at Helen, embarrassed. The applause should have been hers, not mine. But Helen was looking at me, too, a satisfied smile on her face. She hugged me tightly.
“That was wonderful,” she whispered. “How does 10:08 sound?” And then she turned away to thank and congratulate everyone for their hard work.
Stephen was at my side. “That was phenomenal. And everyone thought you just moved to New York to get laid.” He laughed as he started to take his sax apart. “You know, I always knew you were good…at playing the piano.”
I shook my head.
“You got time for a bite to eat?” he asked.
“Not tonight, Steve, I’m exhausted. Besides, I’m sure Helen will have some changes to be made.”
“Yeah, she’s quite a taskmaster, isn’t she?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. As he walked away, I looked up to see Roz leaning against the piano. There was a moment of silence as she stared at me. Finally, she laughed. “Helen’s really done a wonderful job with you, hasn’t she? If she ever throws you out, give me a call. I could use someone with your talents…in many ways.”
“What’s happening here? Are you intimidating my boy again?” Helen chuckled softly as she came up to us.
“No, darling, not intimidating. Just pointing out some options. Where’s the food tonight?”
“There’s dinner waiting at home. You are coming over for a while, aren’t you?”
“Sure.” Roz smiled, looking at me. “What’s for dessert?”
Helen smiled. “Oh, we’ll find something sweet.”
Roz turned to me, nodding. “Yes, I think we will. If we can take it upstairs.”
Helen looked at me. “What do you say to that?”
I hesitated. Again? Could I refuse? Did I want to? Would I be able to redeem myself from last time? Would I be able to outlast Sir Roz? “If that’s what you wish, ma’am.”
Roz’s face broke out into a wide smile. She turned to Helen. “You are such a wonderful hostess, darling. How can I ever repay you?” She turned toward the other musicians.
Helen smiled broadly. “Are you sure this is all right with you?” she asked, not taking her eyes off Roz.
I wet my lips. “I think I can do this. I’ll try. Now that I know what to expect, I’ll try…for you.”
“Last time, you did it for me. This time, it has to be for yourself.” She looked deeply into my eyes. “Only if you’re sure. You can always say no. I’ll make excuses to Roz.”
“I’ll be okay. You’ll be there, won’t you?”
“Yes, sweet boy, I’ll be right there. Every second. I promise.”
Chapter Nineteen
Dinner was wonderful as always. Rachel had left veal chops seasoned and waiting to be put under the broiler. There were also garlic mashed potatoes and an assortment of vegetables. It made everyone happy. As I served Helen and Roz coffee, Helen gave a deep sigh and leaned back in her chair.
“This has been such a wonderful day!” She turned to Roz. “And I am so very glad you’re here. Are you sure you won’t move back to New York?”
“Oh no, not me. I love California too much.” Roz chuckled, then turned to me. “Have you ever been to LA?”
“No, sir. I’ve never been off the East Coast.”
“Well, you’ll have to come west, boy. And bring this old broad with you if you want.” She laughed, pointing her thumb at Helen.
“Old broad? Who’re you calling an old broad, you old broad!”
Roz let out a loud laugh. Helen just smiled at her. “I’ve never been called an old broad.” Roz laughed, looking at me. “An old fart a couple times.”
“I bet I could still make you scream uncle,” Helen countered.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Roz said with a sly smile. “Why don’t we see what the boy screams? Then you can work on me.”
“Uh.” I backpedaled. “Don’t get me in the middle of this.”
“You already are,” Helen said without taking her eyes off Roz. Then she looked at her watch. “Besides, you have dishes to do. And 10:08 isn’t that far away. You’d better get to work.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said as I brought the tray of dirty dishes back into the kitchen. I’d have to do a lot of thinking while I did the dishes to get into the mindset to deal with tonight. The dungeon would be so very different from the rehearsal hall.
* * *
Kneeling in the dungeon, waiting, I started to shake. I’d been here before, hadn’t I? And I hadn’t been able to handle Roz’s sadism. How was I going to handle it this time?
Of course, that was a long time ago. I had more experience now, didn’t I? I could handle more…and I liked it more. The pain was much more pleasurable now. The more pain, the more pleasure. Helen and Master Lawrence had taught me how to handle it. And now, at least, I knew what to expect from Roz. Or did I? I took a big sigh. Could I succeed this time, or would I safe word out again? Why had I said yes?
I heard the door open and froze, my back straight, my head up, my eyes down, and my hands firmly clasped behind my back.
“Worried, boy?” It was Helen.
“Yes, ma’am.” I sighed.
She put her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t be. You have your caution word if it starts to get too rough. That’ll slow things down. And you have your safe word that will stop everything. But you’re a lot stronger than you were the last time. And Roz respects you. Everything will go well. You’ll be fine.” She sat on her stool.
“Thank you, Mistress,” I whispered, wishing I could be as confident as she was.
“Don’t worry, boy. There’s always tomorrow.”
“Sure, if I live that long.”
Just then, the door opened. I knew it was Roz. She’d changed into her butch drag; I saw the heavy men’s shoes striding around me. “Is he ready?”
“Yes. I think so,” Helen answered, standing to greet her.
“Just wait till I show you these new clips I bought in San Francisco.” Roz sneered, letting a large black
leather bag drop to the ground. “Can we tie him to the wall?”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” I heard the proud smile in Helen’s voice. “This boy has learned a lot of discipline. I haven’t had to tie him down in months.”
“Really? More impressive every day.”
“Where do you want him?”
“How about against that wall?”
“You heard him, boy.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you,” I said, taking a deep breath and making my way to the platform against the wall, remembering to stay on my knees and keep my back straight, my hands clasped behind me.
When I had reached the platform, I crawled up and stopped. I could feel Roz behind me. “Stand. Turn around.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” I stood and turned my back to the wall.
Roz studied me. “You sure you can take this without being tied?”
“If it’s all right with you, sir. Whatever you want, sir.” Had I really said that? Where had that popped into my mouth from? Whatever Sir Roz wanted? I hoped I hadn’t just put myself into something I couldn’t handle.
“Well, maybe you should hang on to the chains,” Roz said lowering the tethers from the ceiling. She adjusted my grasp until I was stretched wide. I gripped them tightly.
“Now, don’t let go. I wouldn’t want to have to punish you for dropping them. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” She opened the black bag. “Helen, look at these. Have you ever seen anything so marvelous?”
Helen and Roz hovered over the bag. I didn’t want to look. I figured I’d know about them soon enough. Helen had used locking tweezers on me before, and the sting was incredible, both when they were put on and when they were taken off, allowing the feeling to rush back into the pinched flesh.
“Are you watching, boy?”
At Roz’s words, I opened my eyes, which I hadn’t even known I’d closed, and looked up. In her hands were wooden clamps with big metal jaws covered with thin leather and large springs holding them closed. I don’t know what the look on my face was, but it must have been fear because Roz broke out in a loud laugh and turned to Helen.
In Helen’s Hands Page 15
