Contrasting Lives

by Leah Dempster

  By the time he got home, it was well after eight o'clock and he strode through the door with a takeaway pizza, dumping his car keys on the hallstand on the way through to the kitchen. Picking up the telephone, he rang his parents' house to talk to his kids, pulling a beer from the fridge and opening it as the phone rang.

  “Hey Matty.”

  “Hi Mom, how're the kids? Sorry I didn't call earlier, I got called in to work.”

  “On the first weekend you've had to yourself? That's a shame.” Clare Pendleton was instantly sympathetic to her son's plight and Matt smiled. If anyone was always in his corner, it was his Mom. In the background, he could hear the TV blaring and the sound of the kids laughing and talking. They always sounded happier when they were with his parents and Matt frowned. It was something he had to find a way of fixing – and soon. “The kids are fine; Millie refused to go to bed until you'd rung.”

  “Thank God I got home at eight then.”

  “They're never any trouble, Matt; you know we love having them.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” It was heartfelt gratitude; Matt knew he'd be sunk without the support of both his parents and Caroline's. They'd taken up the slack after Caroline's death, offering assistance wherever they could. What else could a guy with four kids do when his wife died, but seek support from his family? “Put Millie on, I'll talk to her first.”

  There was a shuffling noise, and then Millie got hold of the phone. “Hiya, Daddy!”

  “Hey Millie, how's my baby girl?” Matt smiled when he heard his youngest daughter's voice.

  “I'm not a baby, Daddy. I'm a big girl. I'm five. I'm going to school next year.”

  “That you are, sweetie. Are you having a good time at Grandma's?”

  “Yep, we made cookies this morning. Chocolate chip ones.”

  “That's great, Millie. Did you help Gran?”

  “'Course I did. I did the mixing in Gran's big china bowl. And I licked the spoon.”

  Matt chuckled. Millie would naturally think licking the spoon was providing assistance. “I'll come and pick you up tomorrow afternoon, sweetie.”

  “Gran says you have to come for dinner. She and me are gonna make roast chicken.”

  “She and 'I', Millie,” Matt corrected automatically.

  “That's what I said, Daddy. She and me.”

  Matt shook his head in amusement. “Put Brandon on, sweetie. I love you, and I'll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

  “'Night, Daddy.”

  Brandon spoke into the phone, but his attention was clearly elsewhere. “Hey Dad.”

  “Hi buddy. How's your weekend?”

  “Cool. Grandpa took me to baseball this morning. I scored a run.”

  “Way to go, Brandon. Wish I'd been there to see it.”

  “Nah, it's cool. You needed a break from looking after us. And Grandpa likes baseball.”

  “So do I,” Matt protested.

  “Yeah, I know.” It was evident that Brandon's attention was half on the conversation and half on something else, confirmed when he spoke again. “I'm playing X-Box with Grandpa.”

  “Really? How's Grandpa doing?”

  Brandon dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I'm kicking his butt. But I'm trying to let him win every now and again.”

  Matt grinned. “That's nice of you, son. Put Harper on, please.”

  “Hey Daddy, are you nice and relaxed?”

  Matt was instantly on guard. “Why do you ask, Harper?” At twelve, Harper was the mother hen of the family and the worst snitch. If someone was doing something she thought was wrong, she was going to make certain Matt knew about it.

  “Courtney wants to get her belly button pierced.”

  Matt took another slug from his beer, flipping open the lid on the rapidly cooling pizza. “How do you know?”

  “I overheard her talking on the phone. She's gonna try and get a fake id, and go to the mall to get it done”

  “Harper, we've talked about eavesdropping, haven't we?”

  “Sure,” Harper agreed easily. “You told me not to do it.”

  “Sweetie, it seems to me you're still doing it.”

  “I thought you should know.”

  Matt sighed heavily. On the one hand, Harper was a lifeline, giving him information about his wayward eldest daughter that he was sure to miss. On the other hand… well, spying on her older sister was plain wrong. “I appreciate the information, Harper, I really do. I'll talk to her about it. But don't keep eavesdropping, okay?”

  “Alright, Daddy. I love you. Try and stay relaxed, okay?”

  Sure, like that was going to happen. Hearing about Courtney's latest scheme was gonna give him a damn ulcer. “I will, sweetheart. You doing okay?”

  “Yep. I watched Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire with Gran and tomorrow she's taking me to the mall to get a haircut.”

  Matt made a mental note to give his Mom some cash when he picked up the kids. It seemed everything they needed – clothes, haircuts, new shoes – happened when they were with his parents or at Caroline's parents. Another thing he needed to fix. “That's great, honey. Put Courtney on the phone and I'll see you tomorrow.”

  A few minutes passed and then he heard his Mom's voice. “Matt, she says she'll talk to you tomorrow.” The resignation in his Mom's voice spoke volumes and Matt sighed again.

  “She hates me.”

  “No, Matty. She doesn't hate you; she's confused and vulnerable since Caroline died. She's taking it out on you, son. It's a natural reaction to losing her mother. Give her time, it'll get better.”

  “I don't know what to do, what to say to make it better,” Matt admitted heavily.

  “I'm not sure there's anything you can say – it's going to take time. She was thirteen when her mother died; that's a difficult age for any young girl, with puberty and all those hormones bouncing around. Just be there for her, Matt. Listen when she talks, be silent support when she doesn't.”

  “Harper says she wants to get her belly-button pierced.”

  Clare Pendleton laughed huskily. “My goodness, she's a wild one.”

  “It's not funny, Mom.”

  “It could be worse, Matty. She could want to start using birth control.”

  Matt groaned. “I don't want to know.”

  “You have to know, Matt. She's your daughter. Despite how much hostility there is brewing between the two of you, the girl needs her father. Now how is your weekend going? Other than being called into work?”

  “Okay. Just bumming around really.” He considered telling his Mom about Emily, decided against it. No point mentioning something that he wasn't certain was going anywhere.

  “Why don't you visit with some friends, maybe go out to dinner?”

  “They keep trying to hook me up with someone else,” he grumbled, biting into a slice of pizza.

  “It's been eighteen months, Matty. You should be moving on.”

  “I'm not sure I'm ready yet.”

  “You're young, Matty. You know how much we adored Caroline, heck I see her every time I look at the kids. But she wouldn't want you to be alone, she'd want you to pick up and start dating again.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know, Mom,” Matt grumbled.

  “Alright, I'll get off the subject,” Clare laughed. “Here's a topic you'll love. I think Harper needs bras, she's beginning to develop…”

  Matt nearly choked on the mouthful of beer he'd slugged down as she spoke. “Uh, you wouldn't like to handle that for me, would you Mom?”

  “Maybe I should make you do it,” Clare countered with another laugh.

  “I'll give you a hundred bucks if you'll do it.”

  “Fine. And while I'm at it, I'll get Courtney some new ones, I did some washing this morning, and hers are looking a little tired and small.”

  Matt squeezed his eyes shut. Developing daughters wasn't his area of expertise and definitely wasn't a subject he was comfortable discussing. “Just don't let her near the piercing joint.”

  �
�I promise, I'll make sure she doesn't get anywhere near it.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

  “We love you too, Matty. See you tomorrow.”

  Matt disconnected the call, sitting at the breakfast bar to wolf down the nearly cold pizza and finish his beer. The house was silent, lonely and he contemplated what to do with himself. His cell phone lay on the counter and he found himself itching to ring Emily's number and speak to her. He'd promised to give it a few days, investigate the submissive shit before he contacted her, but the urge to hear her voice was overwhelming and he wanted – no, he needed to talk to her. Needed to discover if what they'd shared last night had fallen so far short of her expectations, learn exactly what she wanted.

  To pace himself, Matt got up and selected another beer from the fridge, twisting off the cap and throwing it neatly into the bin. He should leave her alone, he'd told her he would, and he should honor the agreement they'd made. Sipping the beer, Matt turned back to stare at the phone pensively. What harm could it do, to give her a call and tell her he was thinking about her? Back when he was dating, girls had liked that. He wasn't putting any pressure on her, just shooting the breeze. “Yeah, right Matt. Keep telling yourself that crap and you might believe it,” he muttered aloud.

  Shit, even thinking about her made him hard. This was ridiculous. Matt decided to go upstairs, take a shower and by then, he'd have made up his mind about calling.

  Twenty minutes later, dressed in comfortable sweat pants and a t-shirt, Matt was downstairs again, the phone in his hand and he was staring at the number he'd stuck on the fridge with the kids' magnets. He shouldn't call; it wasn't fair to ring her. Fuck it. He punched the numbers in and pressed the dial button, listening as it began to ring. It went straight to voicemail.

  “Hi, you've reached Emily Coulter. I'm not available right now, please leave your name, and number after the tone and I'll get back to you.”

  His stomach dropped, even as he disconnected without leaving a message. Dropping the cell phone onto the bench, he opened the fridge to grab another beer, then thought better of it. Wrenching open the pantry door, he reached for the bottle of whisky. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, he wandered into the living room with the bottle and slumped on the couch, flicking on the TV.

  There was no point trying to convince himself otherwise. Nine p.m. on a Saturday night and her phone was going straight to voicemail. Matt poured a sizeable amount of whisky into the glass and slammed it back, feeling the burn as it hit his throat.

  It didn't matter how she tried to pretty it up. Emily was a fucking hooker and obviously, she was with a john. Matt poured another whisky and slumped back on the couch, watching the TV mindlessly as fury blindsided him.

  Fuck.

  ≈≈◊◊≈◊◊≈≈

  Salacious was crowded with people on a Saturday night, as with nightclubs of any orientation, Saturday was for relaxing, a time to let your hair down. In Salacious, the club was filled to the brim with club members and their guests. Unlike the other nightclubs in Seattle, the dress code was somewhat different. Leather abounded in varying styles and a corresponding amount of body coverage. Whether it was a full cat suit of tight black leather, or the tiniest strips covering strategic body parts, it was clearly the material of choice amongst Salacious patrons. Not that clothing was a requirement – many of the subs visiting the club with their Dom or Domme were naked, wearing only the collar that marked them as belonging to a Master. Other patrons were dressed to represent the roles they were portraying in their playtime; it wasn't uncommon to see people dressed as though they were attending a fancy dress party. Still others wore typical nightclub attire of jeans and shirts. For many of the patrons, Salacious was a place to enjoy the shows put on by other patrons, and whilst they didn't necessarily play in public, they enjoyed the atmosphere of the Club and came along merely to socialize.

  It was a typical Saturday night and Emily barely noticed the people around her as she worked behind the bar. She certainly didn't find the clothing, or lack thereof, uncomfortable or worthy of her attention. For her part, as a member of staff she was dressed in relative modesty, wearing a black t-shirt with Salacious written across her chest, teamed with a black miniskirt and comfortable sneakers. Working the bar meant hours standing on her feet and it was always flat-out busy from opening time until the club closed at four a.m. Filling orders for the wait staff or serving the customers standing along the bar kept Emily on the hop constantly. She enjoyed the work and talking to customers and from the bar, which was situated along the right hand wall of the massive room, Emily had a view of the majority of what was happening in the club.

  Being a Saturday night, there was plenty happening and the smell of sex was thick in the air. Whether people were role-playing, or sitting in groups and couples having sex, it was happening everywhere around her. Oblivious to it all, Emily kept working and filling drink orders.

  “Hey, Em.” Emily lifted her head at the sound of a familiar voice and smiled at the masked man who'd slipped onto a barstool. His beautiful submissive partner stood slightly behind him, her head bowed and the pretty gold and diamond collar around her neck glistened under the bar lights. She wore a mask too, defining them as members of the club who preferred to remain incognito.

  “Hey guys, how are you this evening?” Emily offered them both a bright smile.

  “We're great, there's a good vibe tonight.” Paul Meccelli leaned forward conspiratorially. “Did Matt telephone you?” he questioned in a low voice. Since Matt had called him on Friday night, Paul had been wondering what was going on. He assumed the appointment, which he'd practically forced Matt to make with Sienna, had gone well, but Paul wondered if there'd been any further developments after Matt demanded Em's phone number.

  Emily expertly filled a jug with beer. “Yeah, he did. And thanks, by the way, for giving out my personal number.”

  Paul chuckled. “The guy was desperate, Em. Particularly after you put him on your no contact list.”

  “Which was exactly why you shouldn't have given him my personal number, you asshole.”

  “Are you pissed at me?” Paul asked quietly. He'd relied on gut instinct when he gave Matt the number. He hoped he hadn't made a mistake.

  Emily smiled warmly. “Of course I'm not. He's a nice guy.” She glanced around, saw a customer waiting at the end of the bar and hurried away, calling back across her shoulder. “I'll be right back.”

  A few minutes later, she returned to where Paul was sitting and started working on an order one of the waiters had delivered. “Is Mandy allowed to speak? Or has she been a naughty girl?”

  Paul glanced back at his wife, who was still standing submissively behind him, her eyes lowered to the ground. “You can speak freely, darlin'.”

  Mandy squealed in delight and kissed her husband on the cheek, before leaning across the bar to kiss Emily and grip her in a bear hug. “I haven't seen you for weeks!”

  “I know, things have been busy,” Emily started creating a couple of cocktails, measuring alcohol into shakers filled with ice. “We should catch up for coffee.”

  “Great idea, I want to hear all about you and Matt!” Mandy's eyes were shining with delight behind the mask.

  “There isn't much to tell,” Emily admitted. “We went out to dinner on Friday night. That's all.” She wasn't willing to divulge any details, not when everything was so new.

  “Seriously? You didn't do anything?”

  “Ladies!” Paul held his hands up in mock surrender. “Don't want to hear this sort of shit about my partner.”

  “Relax, Paul. I don't kiss and tell.” Emily completed the order she'd been preparing and watched as the waiter picked up the heavily-laden tray and masterfully worked his way through the crowds. Looking around the staff nearby, Emily caught the eye of one of the Room Monitors and inclined her head to get his attention.

  “Hiya Em, what's up?” Darius stood in front of her, intimidating in his tight black t-shirt. He was a l
arge man, with bulging biceps and long dark hair pulled into a sleek ponytail.

  “There's a guy over there, he has his sub on the St. Andrew's cross,” Emily explained, inclining her head towards the customers she was speaking about. The Dom was dressed in black leather pants, his hairless chest naked and glistening with sweat. His sub was spread-eagled against the cross, completely naked and as they watched, the Dom whipped her tightly muscled ass, leaving another red mark across her skin. As the sub trembled, the Dom rubbed his large hand over her ass, smoothing away the pain before he leaned in and fingered her clit briefly, and the blonde-haired girl threw her head back and moaned. “I think the sub is new and I don't think the guy has checked on her properly for at least ten minutes. He certainly hasn't offered her any water.”

  Darius nodded, watching the scene for a couple of seconds. “I'll go and check. Do we know the Dom?”

  “He's new to me, seems a little over-enthusiastic. I think you should check on the sub, make sure she's aware of her safe word. They look like players.”

  “No worries, Em. I'll check it out.” Darius strode off purposefully toward the couple in question and Emily returned her attention to Paul and Mandy.

  “You never cease to amaze me, Em,” Paul said, his voice filled with admiration. “You're shit-crazy busy back here, but you still manage to keep your eye on the patrons and make sure nobody is getting hurt.”

  “Unless they want to be,” Emily retorted. She shrugged a little, pouring another jug of beer. “It's automatic now, after what I went through, I like to make sure nobody gets in too deep – unless it's by their own choice.”

  “So, are you gonna see Matt again?” Mandy questioned with a gleam of expectation in her eye.

  Emily bit her lip. “I'd like to, but I'm not sure whether it's going to happen.” She directed her answer towards Paul. “I laid it all on the line with him.”

  Paul sipped from his whisky. “You told him you were a sub? How'd he take that news?”