Just One Night: Volumes 1-3 (Just One Night #1-3)

by Kim Black

  I need to leave. She needs to leave.

  Dropping the paddle to the floor, I make quick work of rolling down my sleeves before quickly heading to the door. Just as I cross the threshold, it occurs to me that Chantal is still waiting for my instructions. Turning my head slightly, I address her, “Put your clothes back on. Jaxon will take you home.”

  Leaving the suite, I release a sigh of relief before strutting back to the elevator. Pushing the call button, I take my cell phone out of my pocket and shoot off a quick message to Jaxon. He will no doubt collect Chantal and return her to her home, although I know he will also wonder why our scene ended so soon. He won’t ever question me about it, respecting our professional relationship, yet he will indeed wonder, nonetheless.

  When the elevator sounds its arrival, I march inside, eager to leave the club. Just as the elevator doors swing shut, the image of not one, not two, but three women come to mind, and in that instant I want to pry the doors back open and escape.

  The image of those the women, different in so many ways, but yet the same, two of whom I no longer have and the third one—Alyson, my most recent conquest, the uncanny resemblance they share…

  Shit, shit, shit!

  When I reach the main floor, I make a beeline for the door, eager to fill my lungs with the cool autumn air outside. My breathing is erratic, my palms are sweaty and suddenly the images all come flooding back to me.

  Elizabeth.

  The proposal.

  The pregnancy.

  The hospital.

  The funeral.

  That last image isn’t of the time I spent hating the world. It isn’t filled with my endless need to control everything around me since I lost Elizabeth and our premature daughter, both of whom were taken from me before I even had a chance to even begin my life with them. No, it’s not about the pain and the unrelenting anger I felt toward Elizabeth for leaving me.

  Alyson…

  She is the final image.

  ALYSON

  Derrick soon returns with our drinks, and I greedily down mine in a matter of seconds. I know it’s totally unladylike behavior, but at the moment I can’t find it in myself to give a damn. Tonight was rough, really rough, and I need something to take the edge off.

  The atmosphere is alive with tension as we sit opposite each other. It’s damn near suffocating, even oppressive in here. Silence stretches like a taut rubber band between us, with neither of us saying a word, our eyes avoiding each other, as we each scan the room. The music is soft, almost soothing, and I watch as everyone on the dance floor puts Jennifer Gray and Patrick Swayze to shame with their dirty dancing.

  “So, are you going to tell me what that was about?” Derrick asks, breaking the awkward silence between us.

  His resemblance to Blake is truly creepy, but then again, they are twins. There are a few subtle differences, but they are not really noticeable until you take the time to carefully examine each of their facial features. Derrick’s gaze is much less intense than I imagine Blake’s might be if he were here staring at me, waiting for some explanation.

  “I’m not sure,” I answer honestly, my gaze dropping to study the glass in my hands.

  I truly don’t have words to explain my behavior earlier this evening, and what else can I possibly tell him? Will he believe that I mistook him for Blake, and that I was pissed-off because it seemed to me that he had used me and that our encounter meant absolutely nothing to him?

  Yeah, that’ll go over well. I’ll look like a lovesick lunatic. I’m sticking with my original answer.

  Derrick scrutinizes me intently, which I find completely unnerving, but somehow I manage to look back up at him and held his gaze.

  Wanting desperately to change the subject, I decide to ask a few questions of my own. “So, are you a Dom, too?”

  Two Hanson Doms. God help the women of New York.

  Amused, Derrick snorts and a panty-melting smile appears on his handsome face. “Oh, God no. I’m not into any of that shit. I am an owner here, well, a silent partner. I play around from time to time, but I don’t do any of that extra shit that Bla…” He suddenly stops in mid-sentence, his eyes moving over me with what? Pity? Empathy? I’m not really sure.

  “You don’t belong here, Alyson. That was obvious from the second I first saw you,” he says softly, his eyes never leaving mine.

  His concern for me is clearly evident. It appears that he thinks I am a weak, helpless woman who was somehow unwillingly dragged into his club and that I don’t belong here. While I know he is correct in thinking that I don’t fit in here at ‘The Dungeon’, for some reason, although it’s still unclear to me, I want to be here. I want to throw caution to wind and actually do something reckless for once in my life. Isn’t that the reason I agreed to meet Blake in the first place? A chance to do something new, something completely unsettling, without worrying about the repercussions?

  “How do you know my name?” I ask, realizing that I never gave it to him; yet, there he sits, opposite me, seeming to think he has some kind of insight as to who I am, although I’ve not offered him any information about myself.

  He grins, his eyes softening. “For starters, I make it my business to know everything about the members here, and two, a little birdie told me,” he says simply. I blush, my cheeks turning pink, knowing that he’s referring to Blake.

  Blake, kissing and telling, I can’t imagine.

  “Oh.”

  “So, what do you do, Ms. Lane?”

  I shrug my shoulders and roll my eyes, as I remember the mountain of financial problems awaiting me back at my apartment in the city. For a moment, I had forgotten the fact that if I didn’t find gainful employment soon, I’ll end up becoming homeless.

  A soft chuckle escapes my lips when I realize that being in this alternate reality, ‘The Dungeon’, with Derrick and Blake, gives me what I need, or at least what I think I need, an escape, a temporary time-out from the problems that have been suffocating me. Here, in this sinful place, I can be whoever I choose to be, a mistress, a sub, a sex slave, although there is only one man I want to dominate me.

  Blake.

  When I am with him he opens something inside of me, and I desperately want to explore it further. I need to. I need this escape, but Blake only wants one night with me. He hasn’t even made an appearance here tonight. Has he become sick of my stalker-like behavior, which I now realize is way beyond pathetic?

  Releasing a sigh, I turn to face Derrick, “I just finished school. I have been looking for a job ever since, I graduated, and I can’t seem to even get a damn interview,” I respond, a little too honestly. My drink has obviously kicked in, making me much freer at divulging my personal information.

  “A job, hmm,” I detect a secretive gleam in Derrick’s eyes.

  “Yup. Allison Lane, jobless, hopeless, Dom-less. Quite the catch, don’t you think?” I say, sarcastically, as I turn away from the table to face the dance floor.

  I can still feel Derrick’s gaze upon me, but I can no longer bring myself to look at him; instead, I stare into the crowd and watch the members of ‘The Dungeon’. They all seem to be well-attuned to each other. They aren’t exactly what I’d call normal. I mean, normal people don’t generally frequent this sort of establishment, but they must know what they desire, know who they are, must know at least enough to allow themselves to freely explore their sexuality, uncaring of what others might think about their choices.

  The atmosphere suddenly shifts, and all the hairs on my arm stand at attention, something I’ve learned to recognize during my last few times at the club and have come to refer to as, ‘Blake-dar.’ But, as I scan the room for him, my body now fully alert, I can’t spot him anywhere.

  Derrick notices the change in my behavior. He also turns to scan the room, but suddenly he rises from his chair and rounds the table to stand in front of me. “Care for a dance, Ms. Lane?”

  Confused by his sudden mood-shift, I glare up at him, frowning, as I assess his smile
and the look of kindness in his eyes.

  “Um, sure, I guess. I thought that maybe Bla…” I start to say, but I quickly decide that it doesn’t matter what I think. My Blake-dar is obviously not working, and there is no point in trying to let Derrick in on all the crazy thoughts running through my head. I’ve already succeeded in making myself look like a fool to him.

  Taking his outstretched hand, I smile up at him and nod my head.

  He isn’t the Hanson brother I want to spend my night with, but I’m already here and I look damn good. I might as well try to enjoy the rest of the night.

  It doesn’t hurt that Derrick is fine as hell to look at.

  BLAKE

  I awake in the morning with a horrific headache, reminding me that I shouldn’t drink in excess when I’m upset, but after my episode outside the club, a drink or ten seemed necessary at the time.

  Clearly, I didn’t think it though, since my head now feels as if it might explode.

  By the time I arrive at work, the headache is a bit more tolerable, but it’s still firmly pounding away at my right temple. My assistant, Ana, takes one look at me as I step off the elevator onto the company’s main floor and she just shakes her head, her motherly scolding all too evident in her expression.

  “Mr. Hanson,” she greets me, her tone clipped, which makes me feel like a small child in her presence. Knowing precisely what she’s thinking, I decide not to address her tone of voice, and instead I offer her a smile.

  She glares up at me for a while before her lips eventually curve up into a small smile. I’ve just successfully avoided her lecture on the perils of drinking to drown out my problems. Several years ago, when I lost Elizabeth, my drinking to excess turned into a daily problem. Since then, I barely drink at all, only allowing myself one or two at the club when necessary, but last night I strayed very far from that rule.

  Are there any rules anymore? I don’t know. Looking back over the past week, I no longer seem to know my right from my left. From the moment Alyson first stepped into the club, she turned my world upside down, or did she do that from the very beginning, with her response to my ad? I can’t be certain, but I do know that I need to steady this roiling cauldron of emotions that she’s been stirring within me since that first night.

  Strolling into my office, I find that Derrick is on time for once, and he’s sitting at my desk with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. Surprised, I raise an eyebrow for a second before frowning back at him.

  “To what do I owe this?” I ask, gesturing at him with my hand.

  Still grinning like a boy, he promptly rises to his feet and mutters, “Oh nothing, I just want to turn over a new leaf, that’s all,” he replies, all too knowingly, and I immediately scan the room in search of whatever...

  I know that damn smirk. The shithead is up to something.

  “I am in no mood for this shit, Derrick. I had a long night.”

  Nothing seems out of place, I realize, after briefly scanning my office, strolling over to my desk, brushing past my brother, and plopping down on the leather chair behind it, which is still piled with unfinished briefs.

  “You look like shit… again. What the fuck, bro’? You look even worse than you did at the damn start of the week,” Derrick announces, as he flops down onto one of the other two chairs placed in front of my desk.

  “Yeah, yeah. Look, I need to get some of these briefs prepared before my one o’clock appointment, so if you’re done doing whatever the fuck you were doing in here, you can leave now,” I tell him, gesturing towards the door. “You can also do some actual work, since you’ve obviously decided to actually come in on time. That’s an order!”

  Snorting, Derrick stands up and ambles over to the door.

  “Save the ordering around crap for your subs,” he amusingly barks back at me from the doorway. I would normally scold him for bringing up my personal business at work, but I simply don’t have the energy at the moment.

  “Work! Go! Now!”

  He opens the door and then glances back at me, “We have an interview today at nine for the legal secretary position. Try to fix yourself up for it, will ya?” With that, he leaves and I sag back against my chair at the sound of the door closing behind him.

  This is going to be one hell of a day.

  Well, there is at least one positive outcome from last night’s events. One thing that became painfully obvious to me the second I awoke this morning, leaving my brutal headache aside.

  I need to see Alyson. There is simply no other way to deal with the constant turmoil she’s causing in my life, other than to see her again and deal with the emotions she’s been dredging up. Since Elizabeth’s death, I haven’t allowed myself to think of her, not even once, ever mindful of to keep her and her betrayal behind me, in the past, where it belongs. It’s the only way; the only path to take after suffering her loss and in the aftermath of her leaving me, and taking with her…

  Sighing, I wonder how I could have so totally missed the obvious clues. Scrolling down through my email inbox, I pull up the photo that accompanied Alyson’s resume, although it still isn’t clear to me what I found so compelling about her at the time. Now, as I again stare at the beautiful woman in the image, I know what it is! Her dark, wavy hair, her soft, pink, pouty lips, and her eyes, her fucking eyes are breathtaking and they are all too familiar.

  Elizabeth.

  Alyson is the spitting image of her, and I didn’t even realize the similarity between them until last night, but it is was all too clear to me now.

  Queuing up a new message to her, I stare blankly at the screen as I try but fail to come up with the words I want to say.

  Somehow, ‘Feel like being tied up and spanked for torturing me?’ just doesn’t seem to work.

  Soon, an entire hour has passed, and I still am unable to find the right words to express myself. Frustrated, I push away from the desk and groan aloud. It’s taken me years to repair the damage Elizabeth caused. In the wake of her death, I was reduced to feeling like less of a man, little more than an empty shell, feeling nothing but pure agony every single second of each and every day. I have no interest in ever being that person again.

  Perhaps, sending Alyson an email isn’t the best course of action I can take. I will not allow any fucking woman to destroy me again.

  Glancing at the time, I realize that I’m already late for the interview.

  Great. Just fucking great.

  Our secretary, Gina, will be gone for a least three months on maternity leave, so we are desperately in need of a fill-in, even though my personal assistant, Ana, has been doing her best to fulfill both roles as we interview prospective replacements.

  Grabbing a legal pad and a pen, I strut out my office, grateful for a task that will at least keep my mind off Alyson, even if only for a few minutes.

  ALYSON

  Running my hands through my hair for the millionth time, I step into the elevator, thankful that it’s empty. Standing in the farthest corner, I attempt to steady my speeding pulse.

  What is it about the Hanson men that makes me so damn nervous?

  The elevator chimes as it reaches the thirty-seventh floor, and jerks to a stop as the steel doors swing open, revealing a sleekly contemporary reception area.

  An older woman, smartly dressed in a pinstriped black pantsuit, looks up from her modern glass desk and smiles as I approach her.

  “Hello, welcome to Hanson & Hanson. How may I help you?” she cheerfully greets me.

  I return her smile. “I have an appointment, no, I’m sorry, I mean I have an interview scheduled today at 9:00 a.m.,” I say, haltingly, my reply sounding more like a question than a statement.

  Get your act together, Lane!

  The receptionist looks at me knowingly, and says,

  “There’s no need to be nervous, dear. Mr. Hanson informed me of your interview and he will be with you shortly. I’ll show you to the conference room. I’m Ana, by the way. Mr. Hanson’s personal assistant.”


  I sigh in relief as I return her smile. It’s sweet of her to offer me a calming word and I’m grateful for her empathy.

  She gestures for me to follow her and I do, reminding myself that although I have no experience working in a corporate office, I do have more than enough administrative experience.

  Thank you Mrs. Robinson, for having me to do all the administrative work for your classes. It seems that I owe you one for being such a hard taskmaster during my internship.

  Following Ana down the corridor, she opens the door to what I assume is the conference room, and we both enter.

  The room is huge and there is a very large, rectangular, glass table dominating much of the floor space. Surrounding it are at least twelve black chairs. The entire span of the wall to the right of the table is taken up by floor to ceiling windows, which offer a breathtaking view of the city.

  Drawn to the view, I slowly walk over to the windows, leaving the receptionist behind me at the door. I’ve never seen anything quite as breathtaking as the view before me. I feel as though I’m on top of the world.

  “Mr. Hanson will be in shortly,” she tells me. I somehow manage to pull my eyes away from the view long enough to offer her a grateful smile, although I want nothing more than to admire the beautiful skyline forever. “If you need anything, please come and find me.”

  “Thank you so much, Ana.”

  She then turns away, leaving me to admire the amazing Manhattan skyline. The view from my apartment is nothing compared to this. It’s breathtaking and I almost immediately feel completely removed from my problems.

  Last night was a real low point for me. My obsession with Blake has truly gotten out of hand, and my embarrassing encounter with Derrick proved it. Although Blake makes me feel things I’ve never felt before, I know I don’t belong in his world. I know it and so does Derrick, which means that Blake probably feels the same way. I need to accept that my night with Blake, although amazing, was little more than a small blip in my life, something that I’ll always appreciate and remember, but something that I’ll have to move past. It’s high time I stopped being so irresponsible and also about time I started to take care of the problems in my life.