Legacies of Love: Six Seductive Stories to Steal Your Heart

by C. L. Roman

  Not in the mood for another meet and greet with a strange woman at a bar, I drove straight home.

  While sorting through my mail, I noticed two letters that weren’t addressed to me. They both had the name Abigail Winters in the small plastic window, along with an apartment number that wasn’t mine. The mailman had obviously made a mistake, and a good one, too, because now I had a name for my hot-as-fuck neighbor, the one who got plenty of airtime in my mind late at night, along with some hand and cock action to go with it.

  Interestingly, both letters were from a hospital located out of state. If I’d had to guess, I’d have said they were bills.

  Checking my watch, I figured it wasn’t too late to pay this Abigail Winters a visit.

  “Who is it?”

  Why does she sound so nervous?

  “Your neighbor.”

  It took her a few minutes to answer the door, and when she did, she barely cracked it open so I couldn’t see inside. What the fuck?

  “Can I help you?” She shielded her body behind the door, her eyes suspicious as they peered at me.

  “Is your name Abigail?”

  “Yes, why do you ask?”

  This girl had some major paranoia issues going on.

  “I think the mailman got our mail mixed up. I received some of yours.” I handed her the letters—well, more like slipped them through the tiny gap. The door opened a touch wider, and she took them from me. She glanced at each one.

  “Thanks for bringing them over.”

  “No problem.” Since I had her speaking, I continued talking. “I’ve seen you around the building a few times. My name is Gabriel. My friends call me Gabe. I live next door.” I pointed to the right, as if she didn’t know where I lived. She had seen me enter and exit my apartment on several occasions. Call it nervous energy for whatever reason.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Gabriel—I mean Gabe. I hate to sound rude, but I have to be somewhere soon, so if you’ll please excuse me, I have to go.”

  She closed the door, leaving me alone in the hall.

  Okay then.

  I went back to my place to chill. Shortly afterward, her door slammed. Christ, it nearly shook the damn walls too. I rushed to open mine, scanning the hallway. I knew she had to have heard my movements, but she didn’t acknowledge me. She hightailed it to the elevator, wearing a slinky dress, this one red, along with spiked heels.

  Hmm. Another night, another fancy dress, and now bills from a hospital out of state—the situation next door was getting mighty interesting.

  ****

  Friday night couldn’t have come fast enough. It had been a hectic week to say the least. I was looking forward to some play at Hilltops, the club Bo managed. First, I met up with my father for dinner.

  “I’m reorganizing the department you’ll be heading up.”

  He took a sip of wine. I took a swig of beer.

  “Sounds good. I just want to give plenty of notice to my supervisor. He’s treated me great and I don’t want to leave him hanging.”

  “I respect your morals. I’m thinking about ten to twelve weeks and we should be ready for your transition into the company.”

  “How do others in the department feel about answering to a younger guy?” I enjoyed a positive work environment.

  “Does it matter?”

  “It does to me. I want things to run smoothly with no animosity.”

  “Everything will be fine. Don’t let the staff see your soft side, Gabriel. You’ll get eaten alive.”

  These words echoed what he had brainwashed me and Davey to believe since childhood: Show no fear, show no mercy, and you’ll get ahead.

  “So you always say.” I took another drink of my beer.

  The waitress approached with our dinner selections, and my dad perused her body from head to toe. It sickened me.

  “I spoke with Davey earlier. He asked again if I’d let him bypass working elsewhere after he graduates.” My father shook his head, smiling. “I give him credit—he is tenacious. Of course I told him no. I have guidelines set in place for both of you for a reason.”

  I swallowed down more beer.

  “I’m in the middle of a bidding war with another developer who doesn’t know his head from his ass. The property is in a low-income area. My mission is to build a community center on it. That’s what I’m planning, anyway. There’s been a lot of back and forth between me and the guy, but in the end, I’ll win. I always do.” He neatly cut his chicken and took a bite.

  “What does the other guy want to do with the land?”

  “He owns the residential property next to it and wants to expand development of his project. I don’t see a need. People in that area could use a community center a lot more than additional residential and retail establishments.”

  After finishing a bite of my juicy filet mignon, I replied, “Is there a soft heart hiding inside you after all, Dad?” I pointed at him with my fork.

  He chuckled. “Who me? You’re funny. It’s all about business, son. It’s a good opportunity and an excellent investment on our part.”

  It certainly couldn’t be about the people who lived in the area, people who could use a bit of assistance. He and I were different in many ways. I could thank my mother’s genetic makeup for that.

  “Maybe you could offer some health-related services and such for those in the area who could use it while you’re at it?”

  “That’s something you could head up. I just want the property.”

  “That would be amazing.” I flashed him an easy grin. “I’d love the opportunity to take on a challenge like that.”

  “When I acquire the land, we’ll discuss it further.”

  “Good to know.” I took another bite of my steak.

  We finished eating, carrying on with trivial chitchat about nothing. He told me about his flavor of the week, something I had no interest in hearing about. No matter how many times I told him to keep his private affairs to himself, he would still brag about the young pieces of ass he brought home with him at night. To be honest, I found it repulsive.

  With the check taken care of, we parted ways. I headed straight to the club, ready to blow off steam after spending an hour with my dad.

  The dungeon—the grand area where guests and members played openly—was buzzing with excitement. I scanned the room, zeroing in on a woman strapped to a table, being pleasured by her Dom. They were engaging in impact play. He stroked her leg with the end of a flogger then lashed the long black strips against her upper thigh. She shivered and moaned in delight. Another woman, blindfolded, was strapped to a St. Andrew’s Cross. Two men kept her entertained—one by teasing her folds with a vibrator, the other by attaching nipple clamps to her small breasts. If the gyrating motion of her hips and cries of pleasure had anything to say about it, she was game.

  My adrenaline surged, my mind and body ready to engage in the activities.

  Looking to my left, I spotted Bo.

  “It’s my favorite asshole.” He greeted me with a pat on the back. “Glad to see you made it.”

  “I told you I’d be here.”

  “Yes, you did. I must not have worked you hard enough in the gym this morning,” he joked.

  “Oh, you sure as hell did. Don’t you worry about that. I’m just glad it’s the weekend. I’m ready for a break.” My muscles were too. He had killed me earlier.

  “Yes! Yes!” the woman with two men chanted.

  Bo tipped his head in their direction. “Seems like it’s the perfect night to get one.”

  “I can’t wait.” I rubbed my hands together with anticipation.

  “Well, in my case, weekends are my busiest time. No breaks for me. I’m off to make my rounds. Have fun, but not too much—I’d hate to have to throw you out of here for bad behavior.” He winked at me and gave me another pat on the back. “I’ll see you bright and early Monday morning.”

  “That you will.” I waved him off and he disappeared into the crowd.

  “
Gabriel, it’s good to see you.” Mitch Dorian, one of the Dorian trio who owned the club, greeted me with a handshake.

  “You too. The place is hopping.” We both surveyed the dungeon, my eyes on the party of three. Apparently the show was over—the two guys were freeing the woman.

  “That it is. Are you all by your lonesome tonight?”

  “Hopefully not for long.”

  He smiled. “That’s what we’re here for, fun and frolic for all. Enjoy your evening. Let me know if you need anything.” It was a short and sweet hello, after which he waved goodbye and moved on to another member.

  What I needed were glasses to make sure I was seeing correctly. I could have sworn Abigail Winters was bound to a table nearby. How had I missed that?

  A robust woman, clearly the top, held a flogger over Abigail, swatting Abigail’s thighs with the leather tassels on the end of it. Abigail remained still, tensing every time the flogger hit her. Triggered, perhaps? What the hell was she doing at Hilltops, if it was even her? She was decked out in a black lace bodysuit with thin ties secured over her hips and around her neck. It was paired with black stilettos with lace trim. The entire ensemble revealed plenty of skin, leaving little to the imagination.

  Maybe my eyes were deceiving me. I stepped farther into the room, a bit closer to the scene, tuning out everything else around me so I could get a better look at the two women. Holy shit! It was Abigail. What a shocker to see her engaged in a scene in the dungeon of all places. And her body in that getup of hers? Lord, give me strength. A small latch secured the open space of fabric between her breasts, huddling them together. It didn’t stop them from spilling out the sides of the narrow fabric covering them. The soft curves of her torso rested on the table, the delicate fabric absent on her hips and waist. Her legs had plenty of meat to grab on to. Fuck. My dick was already saluting her.

  An old man standing at the foot of Abigail’s table instructed the woman in charge to blindfold her. He breathed deeply, his chest heaving up and down. He had coldness in his eyes and tone, possibly anger. It was odd because it was clear Abigail hadn’t done anything wrong, so a punishment wasn’t warranted.

  Who was this guy? And more importantly, why was Abigail allowing him to make the rules? She clearly wasn’t taking pleasure in the experience—anything but. Was he her Dom? If he was, why would she allow him to show her such disrespect? Unless she got off on that type of behavior…

  The woman took a black silk blindfold and held it above Abigail’s face so Abigail would know what was coming. Abigail might have nodded in agreement, but her body said differently. Her muscles became rigid, she recoiled when the other woman glided the fabric up her arm toward her face, and her hands balled into fists. I could feel the fear emanating from her. I didn’t get it. This type of play was supposed to be fun.

  Right before the blindfold was put in place, Abigail’s gaze shot to mine. Her skin turned white. I should say it turned whiter, because she was already pale as a ghost. She all but withdrew into the table supporting her. If she could have escaped, I knew she would have.

  This was not typical behavior for someone at a play party, where play was on display for others to see and enjoy. One thing I knew: Abigail Winters didn’t belong there.

  The woman proceeded with the blindfold, tying it behind Abigail’s head.

  “Red!” Abigail shouted.

  The top sprang into action, freeing Abigail from the binding and eye covering. Abigail jumped off the table and flew across the room, the essence of her sweet perfume lingering in the air behind her. The old man shuffled after her. The woman stayed put.

  Investigative proceedings would commence immediately. I searched the room for Bo, but he was nowhere in sight. I left the dungeon and found him managing the fantasy suites, the area of the club where guests reserved private rooms to live out secret fantasies.

  “What’s up? Leaving already?” His attention shifted away from the laptop on his small desk and over to me.

  “No. One of the women in the dungeon just used her safe word and all but bolted with an old man in tow. Her name is Abigail Winters. Does that ring a bell?”

  Bo’s brows came together as he thought about the name. “Ah, yes. It does.”

  “And?” I gestured for some elaboration.

  “You know I can’t get into specifics about what others do in the club.”

  “She’s at an open play party. It’s not like I’m asking about shit going down in a fantasy suite. She also happens to be my neighbor. What’s the story with the old man?”

  He shrugged. “The two of them have come together a few times. I don’t know what the story is between them. He’s the member, and she’s his guest. Occasionally he’ll bring a third woman along, as I believe he did tonight.”

  That explained the woman with Abigail.

  “Is Abigail his submissive?”

  “Why? Are you interested in me hooking you up with one?”

  My patience was starting to wear thin. “No. I’m interested in Abigail Winters.”

  “What I can tell you is they only come to open play parties. I’ve never seen him touch her. Come to think of it, nobody touches her unless it’s with a toy. No hands are ever involved. Maybe the old guy has a fetish or something.”

  A fetish? I scrubbed my hand over my chin. Pieces of the Abigail Winters puzzle weren’t fitting together properly.

  Chapter Three

  Abigail

  “My dear girl, why did you use your safe word?”

  He looked anything but concerned about my well-being, but that was the least of my worries. My next-door neighbor had seen me almost naked, bound to a table. What the hell was he doing at the club?

  “For some reason, I couldn’t breathe.” I had to give the jerk something or he wouldn’t let it rest. It was the truth, though. I had tried to do deep breathing throughout the entire experience, to no avail. My lungs felt tight, leaving me short of much needed oxygen.

  “I hope it won’t happen again.”

  His comment was the exact reason why I had agreed to do scenes in open play areas, nowhere else. He had suggested taking me into a fantasy suite, but I refused. I knew if others were around, he’d have to respect my words and boundaries. I had to maintain whatever control I could without letting him know I was doing so.

  “Yeah, me neither. If you’ll please excuse me, I’d like to change into my dress.”

  “Oh, my dear girl, I’m not quite done with you yet.”

  Christ. What now? He had already taken me to dinner with his hoity-toity friends and their slutty dates. In my opinion, we’d had a full night of activities.

  “I thought you said we would go to dinner and finish at the club.”

  “But we didn’t exactly finish, did we?”

  My muscles tightened. I knew that look in his eyes.

  Think… Think… Think…

  “Why don’t we have your driver take me home and put up the privacy glass?”

  His brow went up in response to my suggestion. I would do anything to get out of the club and go home, away from him.

  “I should have thought of that myself. Go ahead and get changed. I’ll have him pull the car around.”

  Now for the dreaded car ride. The old man sat across from me, eager, ready, and willing. He handed me the all-important blindfold—one of his unfaltering demands was that my eyes remain covered when he jacked off. Sick, sick, sick!

  As usual, I did what had to be done while gritting my teeth, but wearing a pretend smile and faking an orgasm.

  “No man will ever want to be with you, Abigail. You have sinful thoughts and you act on them. I hope you’ve learned your lesson. Now cover your bottom and go to bed. No television for you tonight!”

  My ass burned when I pulled my pajama pants up.

  After my mother left the room, I promptly pushed them down again because the cotton fabric burned my chaffed skin.

  How I would have loved to tell her to fuck off. I’d learned after sticking u
p for myself on several occasions that the punishments became harsher if I argued or talked back. I’d discovered it was better to close my eyes and disassociate, to just get the wrath of her physical and verbal rants over with so she’d leave me alone.

  It went without saying, that had been the first and last time I’d touched myself in an “inappropriate” manner—that is, until these past few months with the old man. And each time I did it, I felt physically sick to my stomach.

  The limo pulled up in front of my building. I opened the door before the driver could assist me out of the vehicle.

  “Please be at the office at nine tomorrow. It will be a half-day, my dear girl. I might also have plans for us on Sunday. I’ll let you know.”

  Yeah, yeah. I waved him off and rushed to the front entrance of my building where I punched in the code to unlock the secured door. I rarely worked in the office on Saturdays, and I found it odd he’d made the request.

  As soon as I got inside my apartment, I took a few antacids and a hot shower, in which I scrubbed myself diligently with a washcloth. The steam filling the small space didn’t hide the redness deepening on my arms as I disinfected them, indicating I needed to ease up. I promptly did.

  Towel dried and dressed in my robe, I sat on the couch and checked my phone to see if my mother or Irma had called. Nothing. They hadn’t responded to my earlier texts either. In this case, I prayed no news was good news. Either way, I sent another check-in text to each of them.

  A knock on my door had me holding my chest in panic. The old man knew he wasn’t allowed to visit me at my apartment. That was one of my demands. It was my safe space—the only one I had.

  I scurried off the couch and peered through the peephole. Crap! It was Gabriel. I couldn’t answer it. I wouldn’t answer it.

  He knocked again.

  Shit! Why wouldn’t he get the hint and go away?

  “Please open the door.”