“Do you have an appointment?” The blonde reached for a phone on the side of her desk.
“Ah, no. Can you tell him—?”
The loud buzzing noise from the phone cut me off. The receptionist held up her hand as she lifted the receiver.
“Yes, sir.”
I waited as she listened to the voice on the other end.
“Yes, sir,” she repeated, and then replaced the phone in its cradle. Still smiling, she glanced up at me. “Mr. Hughes will see you, Ms. Palmer.” She motioned to a door behind her desk. “You can take the stairs to the second floor. You will find Mr. Hughes’s office is the first door on your right.”
“Ah, thank you,” I remarked without wanting to know how she knew my name. I already guessed who was on the phone with her.
Taking the steps two at a time in the brightly lit stairwell, I quickly emerged on the second floor. A long corridor with deep brown carpet and more beige-painted walls decorated with photographs of homes was waiting. Once I took a few steps into the corridor, I spied a single office door to my right. Placing my hand on the shiny brass doorknob, I held up my head and walked inside.
The first thing I saw in the office was a long row of old-fashioned windows that allowed the full light of day into the rectangular office. The windows had been the same I had noticed from the street. How Garrett had known it was me became obvious.
“Lexie, shut the door,” a velvet voice said to my left.
When I turned, he was standing in front of a grand light oak desk with a row of matching bookcases behind it. All my well-intentioned words practiced in the car on the drive over immediately left me. I was fumbling for something to say as my eyes met his. His lips were pursed together, and when he glared at me, I did not know how to react. I ignored that tweak of desire stirring in my gut, fiercely determined not to show him that I was foundering beneath his withering gaze.
“Hello, Garrett.” With a little too much dramatic flourish, I slammed the door closed. “We need to talk.”
He sighed and leaned back on his desk. “Christ, you’re impossible. I knew when I read your book, I….” Pushing away from his desk, he went to the wall of windows that overlooked Camp Street and turned his back to me. “I know why you’re here. It’s because I didn’t call or stop by yesterday, isn’t it?” I said nothing, and he folded his hands behind him. “After everything that happened at the club, I would think you would question if we should continue to see each other.”
I noticed how his hands curled and uncurled in front of me. “That’s not the impression I got after the party when you had your head between my legs,” I commented, approaching his side.
Showing me his profile, he coldly replied, “I was rewarding you for your good behavior, nothing more.”
“If there was nothing more, Garrett, then why did you read my book?”
He hesitated, and that simple action vanquished all of my doubts. Garrett carefully planned every nuance, every word he uttered. To upset his unflappable disregard meant I was making progress, and perhaps, getting under his skin. At least I hoped so. There were moments I felt as if I were nothing to him.
“After all the time I have invested in you, I was curious to see the outcome of my efforts,” he finally admitted. “I understand a lot more after reading your book. More than I needed to know.”
I smiled, thinking my book had given him some insight into his chilly disregard. Eyeing his desk, I marveled at how everything was neatly in its place. My desk was always in a state of chaos, with Post-It notes scattered about, bills that needed to be paid, and notebooks of story ideas piled to the side. A writer friend had once told me, “A desk was a reflection of the mind of its owner.” In Garrett’s case, that was true. Nothing was out of place; even his pens were neatly arranged to the side of his burgundy blotter.
Raising my eyes to the bookcases lining the wall behind his desk, I spotted several framed photographs. In one, a woman with a bright red hat, who had Garrett’s eyes and similar features, was smiling for the camera. In another, a man and woman dressed in wedding clothes embraced each other. The picture that intrigued me most was of Garrett smiling happily between two small girls, one of which was giggling. He was not at all like the man standing in front of that window. The ever-present frost in his eyes was gone, revealing a kindhearted, tender man.
“Your family?” I gestured to the photographs.
“Yes.” He came up to me. “My sisters and my nieces.”
“Sort of makes you a little less intimidating, seeing you with your nieces like that.” I pointed to the picture of him with the little girls. “You seem almost human.”
He chuckled, and came around in front of me, leaning back against his desk. “When have I not been human with you?”
“I don’t know. You’ve always been larger than life to me.” I stared into his eyes and that profound longing for him tugged at my heart. I knew in that instant that I had to do everything I could to protect Garrett from Colin’s threats. “You asked me once to submit to you and I refused,” I asserted. “What if you were to ask me again?”
His eyes softened, and he stood upright. “You do know what that would mean?”
“I know,” I sighed. “If I went through with that collaring ceremony, what exactly would I be to you?”
He dipped his head closer to me, halting inches from my lips. “You would be mine, utterly and completely.”
I leaned back from him. “When I’m no longer yours? What then? Do I become like all the other women you have known. Another story?”
“There are no guarantees with me, Lexie.”
“I’m not looking for guarantees, Garrett. I didn’t have them in my marriage, and I don’t expect them from you.”
Cocking his head to the side, he asked, “Then what are you looking for?”
“You. The real you.” I motioned to the photographs behind his desk. “I want the man in the picture with those two little girls.”
“You want too much.” He turned away and went back to the windows. “You know what I am, Lexie. I’m not going to change, or give up what I like to do for you. I am a master, and can be no other way.”
“What about feelings, Garrett? Don’t you ever feel anything for your subs?”
“Feelings are dangerous for a man like me.”
I came up behind him and was going to touch him when I remembered how he would always withdraw from me. Something in me wanted to tempt fate, to see if he still felt that way. Reaching up, I rested my hand against his upper back. He flinched, but did not move away. When he spun around, I saw the change in his eyes. It wasn’t anger reflecting back at me in his dark orbs, it was desire.
“You should go,” he calmly stated, and then the fire vanished from his eyes. “I have a meeting.”
Taking a moment to drink in the curves of his face, I resigned myself to my fate. He was inside of me. I would never be free of him until I had all of him. If giving myself to him in a room full of strangers meant we could be together, then so be it.
“I will do whatever you want,” I whispered to him. “I don’t care anymore.”
His brow furrowed, making him appear unsure. “Even knowing what I am, how I am, you would still want this?”
I inched closer to him. “I’ll take you any way I can get you.”
He backed away as a chill settled between us. “I want you to take some time and really think about this, Lexie.” Fastidiously tugging on his grey jacket sleeve, he lowered his eyes to the deep brown carpet. “We have to be practical.”
“Practical?” I laughed. “I gave up being practical the day you kissed me.”
His eyes shot to mine, and then he quickly turned for his desk. “I need to get to my meeting.”
I nodded my head at his abrupt dismissal, knowing there was nothing left to say. I went to his office door, as I placed my hand on his shiny brass doorknob, he stopped me.
“Get back to the book. I want to see how it ends.”
I turn
ed the knob. “Ends? What makes you think it’s going to end?” I walked out into the corridor beyond.
Exiting the building I felt rejuvenated, and at the same time disgusted with myself. I had kept the truth about Colin from him, something I was sure no sub was supposed to do. I reasoned we were way beyond the clear-cut roles of Dom and sub. What was developing between us was something I prayed would be more long-lasting than a casual fling. Did Garrett feel it, too? If he did, he didn’t show it. So how did I get him to admit his feelings? Perhaps performing that ghastly ceremony would show my hardened Dom that true submission was not an act of obedience, but a sacrifice made for the sake of love. He would then take me in his arms and declare his undying devotion. Yeah, I knew it needed a rewrite. I just considered it a work in progress.
Day 12
An uncanny calm pervaded my being when I rose from bed that morning. It was as if I knew my fate and had accepted it. There were no more questions about Garrett, no more uncertainty. My serenity felt as if it had permeated every aspect of my life, even my writing. My head was clear of the clutter of worry, and I was able to get a lot of writing done. The words came like lightning during a wicked summer storm. Before I knew it, the strong afternoon sun had invaded my living room. When I checked the clock on my laptop, I jumped from my desk chair. I had to get to an appointment with Al. He wanted to discuss options for the book and the series.
Stepping into the five-story, nondescript gray office building on Baronne Street, I surveyed the men in suits, and the women in business attire scurrying about. Studying their faces, I wondered which one of them harbored secrets like Garrett. Did the muscle-bound security guard at the entrance to the building prefer to be dominate or submissive? Did the pretty brunette in red, next to me in the elevator, like to be spanked or bitten? Dealing with Garrett had taught me to see the world in layers. Everyone was hiding something, trying to exist in the world of light, but fulfilling their fantasies in the shadows. From housewives with steamy romance novels to politicians with numerous mistresses, everyone was living some kind of alternative existence. An existence where their desires came first and their obligations came second. Stepping out of the elevator on Al’s floor, I daydreamed of a world where the shadows we hid behind no longer existed, and desire was expressed openly. What kind of world would that be?
“Damn, Lexie,” Al bellowed when I walked through his office door. “You got some great shit here.” He pointed to his computer on his cluttered desk. “Great shit.”
“I’m not even halfway finished yet, Al.” I closed the door and went to the cheap chairs in front of his worn wooden desk. “Imagine how much more you’ll like it when it has an ending.”
“One of the reasons I wanted you to come in and see me today. We need to talk about that ending, and this series.” He had a seat behind his desk, shoving some papers out of the way in front of him. Perusing the mounds of mail, bills, and scraps of paper all over his desk, I felt heartened. It was worse than mine.
“I know you’ll probably be pissed with me. I sent your first three chapters on to an editor I know with Donovan Books, out of Atlanta. Her name is Cary Anderson.”
I sat back in my chair with a thud. “Al, it wasn’t ready for that. What I sent you was—”
He held up his chubby hand, silencing me. “Let me finish before you chew my ass out. Cary loved it. Loved the shit out of it. She wants to offer you a contract for this book, and a series of books. I’d changed the title of the book, though. You could call it Taming Elise…that way, for the series you could insert a new woman’s name each time. What do you think?” He paused, staring into my eyes, waiting for me to react.
“Al,” I said after a few moments of letting the news sink in. “I can’t believe this.”
He slapped his hand on a few papers piled to his right. “Believe it. I’ve got a contract coming over in the next few days, and I want you to sign it. They’re going to give you an advance, set up a signing tour, and do some heavy promotion for you.”
Normally, I would have been jumping up and down with excitement, but I wasn’t. I was thinking about what Garrett would say. Would he be pleased?
“Hey, Lexie?” Al snapped his fingers at me. “I just told you you’ve got a sure fire hit on your hands, and you’re staring into space.” He stood from his chair and came around the side of his desk, gawking at me with his squinty brown eyes. “Are you high?”
I laughed at him. “Al, you know I don’t do drugs.”
“Then what’s wrong with you? Every other writer I represent would be as happy as a hooker in a fraternity house.” He wiped his hand over his red, sweaty face.
Al’s similes were always colorful.
“I am happy Al, really,” I assured him. “And I appreciate all that you’ve done. I’ve just got a lot…well, a lot going on.”
His eyebrows rose on his pasty brow. “Lily isn’t giving you shit again, is she? Tell that caustic mother of yours to back off. I told you to stay away from her. You always…,” he waved his hand at me, “get this way whenever she rides your ass.”
“It’s not my mother, Al.” I shook my head, debating whether or not to tell him about Garrett. There were a lot of intimate details I shared with my agent. He became mother, best friend, worst enemy, and sometimes, the bastard I would hire a hit man to blow away. Al was also pretty good about offering me advice, even when it was unsolicited.
“Is it Ralph?”
I could not believe the man had asked me that question. Christ, was I that obvious?
He shifted his bulk against his desk, and the flimsy furniture slid a little across the yellow-tiled floor. “Hey, I read your book, Lexie. About two chapters in, I knew Ralph was real. I know how you write, and I’ve never seen such passion in your pages before. Whoever he is, you’re smitten.”
“Smitten?” I laughed. “Is that even a word anymore?”
“For old Jewish guys it is. So who is he?”
Sighing, I figured what did I have to lose? It wasn’t like I had a slew of girlfriends to discuss my troubles with. Al was about the only friend I had. I really needed to get out more.
“His name is Garrett, and yes, he is Ralph. He’s a dominant…like in the book?”
Al shrugged his round shoulders. “He likes tying women up, you mean.”
“No, not tying, just…dominating. You know, controlling a woman, telling her what to do and so forth.”
Al’s beady eyes drew together. “How is that different from how most men act? Despite what all the feminists say, Lexie, men are still the dominant sex. It sounds like your guy is no different. Maybe he just has more to prove.”
The offhanded remark gave me pause. “What do you mean by ‘more to prove’?”
He waved off the question. “You know men, Lexie. Then again, maybe you don’t.” He stopped and shrugged his round shoulders. “You see, men need to possess…to dominate. It’s important to hold a woman captive, keep her close, make her want only for us. It’s a rush.” He pointed at me. “Your guy sounds the same way.”
“No, it’s more than that. With him, it’s—”
“It’s all about power, Lexie. When some men can’t be the top dog, they find how to satisfy that urge in other ways. Like Ralph in your book. You have him as an executive in a large engineering firm. He has a boss he has to answer to, so he finds an outlet for his need to be in charge with women.”
I had to give Al kudos for his analytical skills. I had never thought of that angle. I had written Ralph as a mirror image of Garrett, and as I mulled over what Al was telling me, it all began to make sense.
“So what’s going on with you and Ralph?” Al probed.
I shook my head. “I wish I knew. I’m not sure how to describe it.”
“You already did describe it in your book, Lexie. Maybe you should go back and read what you wrote. Seems pretty clear to me how you feel about the guy. Why isn’t it to you?”
I remembered Garrett’s comment the previous day about reading
my book and the insight he had gained from it. I thought that he had been talking about himself. Perhaps he had meant me. Instantly, the reason he had stayed away became obvious.
I stood from my chair. “Thanks, Al. I should get back to my book.”
He walked me to his office door. “I’ll e-mail you those contracts as soon as I get them. Once you sign, you’re going to have to bust ass to get that book finished. Cary wants to move real fast.” He opened his office door. “Send me the new chapters and we’ll go over it.”
I eased into the hallway. “Got it.”
“And Lexie, don’t worry about your Ralph. He’ll come around.”
Giving Al one last hopeful grin, I headed down the hallway to the elevator. It was time to get back to work.
Day 13
I had started at sunup on my book, having added two more chapters the day before. Ralph and Elise had been to the party and aroused by the orgy that had been put on display by the demented queen of the elusive Marquis Club. After, they had returned to Ralph’s apartment, where Elise had given herself to him. I figured that was what should happen in the story…it was time.
Now my characters were moving toward the next phase in my novel, the conflict. It was that interesting point where their reality came crashing down around them, and they realized that to make a relationship work, they had to be willing to sacrifice part of themselves. It’s a shame that real people didn’t come to this conclusion as easily as fictional characters. Then again, characters only had a few hundred pages to right a lifetime of wrongs and change; human beings had a whole lot longer and a lot less motivation. No wonder I preferred my characters to people…they were easier to understand.
I was amazed at the speed of my writing. Unlike my other books, this one was pouring out of me. I had already outlined the plot for the next book in the series, about Ralph’s adventures with a famous art historian, and had plans for another with Ralph and a Dominatrix name Lucinda. I had other ideas, based on the things Garrett had told me, and some ideas for stories I thought would add to the series.
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