“I’ve heard worse ideas. But forget about what I should do. What are you going to do?”
“Let you go…if that’s what you want me to do.”
“What I want is for you to be happy. You won’t be happy with me.” She ran a hand through his hair again and he felt the affection in her touch, the respect. But no love. Not the kind of love he wanted or needed. “So the question is…what do you want to do?”
Daniel released a mirthless laugh. “Your owner asked me the very same thing the day I buried Maggie.”
“I hope you have a different answer.”
He paused before answering.
“You’re right,” he said, finally. “I do want to get married again. I want somebody to have kids with. God, I don’t even care if they’re mine or hers or adopted or foster kids. I just want a houseful of children. Always have.”
“You’re only thirty-eight.” She touched his cheek. “And rich. And you’re about as sexy as it gets. There are women in this world who’d let you knock them up just to have your DNA inside them for nine months.”
He sighed and shook his head. “I’m going to miss you. And when I stop missing you, I’m going to miss missing you,” Daniel said and prayed that made sense to her.
“I don’t love you. But I sort of wish I did. I hope that helps.”
“It does a little. But just a little.”
“I have to go now. Slumber party with the King.”
Daniel nearly groaned aloud at the surge of envy that rushed through him. “Doesn’t Kingsley have enough subs to keep him company?”
“Yeah, but they’re all shit. Anya’s the only good female submissive he’s brought home in two years and she’s off-limits.”
“Anya? A good submissive? She’s the most temperamental woman I’ve ever met,” he said. He got out of bed, started to dress. “Loathed me on sight.”
Eleanor looked genuinely taken aback by that. “Really? She’s about the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Too sweet to be hanging around with deviants like us. Of course, I could say the same to you. Was she rude to you?”
“Extremely.”
“Hmm…interesting. Sounds like she’s got a crush.”
He doubted that. Attraction and affection were two very different things. “Doesn’t matter. Off-limits, like you said. Stupid auction.”
“Very stupid auction. The girl is fucking terrified out of her mind about it. Even Kingsley told her she didn’t have to do it. But she’s determined to go through with it. Last virgin in one of Kingsley’s auctions walked off with two-hundred and fifty-six thousand dollars, and that girl wasn’t half as beautiful as Anya.”
“I hope somebody can talk some sense into her.”
“You should try.”
He gave her a stern stare. “You know I’m the dominant in the room. Not you.”
Eleanor cocked an eyebrow at him and he saw a smile twitch at the corner of her mouth. Raising her chin, she strode toward him and stopped only a foot in front of him.
“Is that so?” she asked with quiet menace. “You’re the dominant here?”
He took one step forward so only inches separated them. He gave her his very best Ouch stare.
“I am.”
Without any warning, Eleanor’s hand shot out and slapped him quickly across the cheek just hard enough to sting, just light enough to be insulting.
“Then act like it,” she said.
She’d slapped him. Actually slapped him. He’d slapped Maggie a thousand times just like that—quick and wicked, hard enough to get her attention, not hard enough to actually hurt. A perfect dominant’s slap.
He needed that.
“I will.”
Daniel pushed Eleanor against the wall and kissed the breath out of her. His tongue invaded her mouth and her head fell back in surrender, taking the kiss like a well-deserved punishment. Finally, he released her.
“Okay.” She panted the word as he let her go. “You’re the dom in the room.”
“That’s better.”
“But you should still talk to Anya.”
Daniel laughed out loud. Maybe someday he would find a woman to love him and marry him and have children with him. But he would never forget her.
“Yes, Mistress.”
Eleanor finished straightening her clothes, took a deep breath, and nodded.
“I better go,” she said. She left his bedroom and headed for the front door. Opening it, she paused and looked back at him. “I will miss you. I did miss you…for a long time. Longer than I’ll admit to.”
“I promise I’ll stop loving you,” Daniel said. “But it’ll hurt.”
“Only until you fall in love again. Then you’ll thank me for leaving.”
“Maybe,” he said, “But not yet.”
She merely gave him one last smile before walking out of his apartment and out of his life.
Forever.
7
The night was long and lonely, but Daniel survived it. He woke up in the bed where he and Eleanor had made love. He searched out her scent on the sheets but couldn’t find it. She hadn’t been there long enough to leave any trace. It was as if she’d never been there at all.
He felt okay though. Not great but okay. Was that a sign that he hadn’t really been in love with her? It dawned on him that morning he might have been in love with his dream of her and losing her hurt as much as waking up from a dream.
Maybe. Maybe not. But he was wide awake now.
He got up, got dressed, had enough breakfast for two men. Then he hailed a cab and headed to Kingsley’s. Why? He didn’t expect Eleanor to be there. He wasn’t going to see her, just to tell Kingsley it was over, for good. If only to hear himself say it out loud, to make it official. Daniel had been wrong, Kingsley right. His integrity demanded he admit it. And it wouldn’t hurt to do a little commiserating, too. Nobody commiserated better than Kingsley Edge.
Daniel arrived around mid-morning and rang the bell at the front door. No answer. Very likely Kingsley was still asleep. The man was either fearless or liked to pretend he was, so Daniel wasn’t surprised to find the door was unlocked. He stepped inside the entryway and looked around. Usually the place was packed but then again, usually Daniel visited in the afternoon or evening. The house was eerily empty, eerily quiet and he wondered if this is what it was like every morning when the deviants of Manhattan were still sleeping it off.
In the quiet, he heard the soft rumble of a man’s voice coming from the music room. Daniel would have ignored it—probably just one of Kingsley’s friends taking a call in there—except he heard another voice replying. A woman’s voice. He would have minded his own business except he recognized her soft accent—it was Anya.
Daniel went to the music room and stopped at the threshold. He stood just outside the door and eavesdropped.
“Has Edge set a reserve?” a male voice inquired. Daniel didn’t need to see the man to know he was older—fifties or sixties. He could tell from the timbre of his voice, the supreme self-confidence possessed only by wealthy middle-aged white men. God, Daniel hoped he never sounded like that.
“No, sir,” Anya replied. She sounded meek which surprised him. He hadn’t thought she had a meek bone in her body. “I think I heard the bell. I need to—”
“They can wait. If you’d rather not bother with the auction, we can settle things now,” the man continued. “We’d have to have an exam, of course.”
“An exam?” Her voice shook and Daniel realized she wasn’t being meek at all. Rather, she was scared.
“I wouldn’t buy a car without having someone check under the hood first, of course.” The man chuckled. Daniel had heard enough. He pushed the door open and Anya turned and looked at him, first in surprise and then with obvious relief. She stood with her back to the fireplace, all the way back against it as if she’d been pushed there. The man—yes, white, middle-aged, bloated and pompous, wearing an expensive suit—had trapped her there. As Daniel burst into the room, the man dropped his hand from Any
a’s reddened face. She looked like she was about to start crying.
“Anya? You all right?” Daniel asked.
“Excuse me, but who are you?” the man demanded. He stood up straight, arms behind his back like some sort of parody of a military commander.
“I’m Daniel. Anya’s helping me with a suit. We had an appointment.”
“Yes,” she said quickly, “we did. I’m sorry, I forgot. Mr. Harpring stopped by and I…I lost track of time.”
“It’s fine,” Daniel said. “I’m early. Should we go?” He held out his arm and waved as if beckoning a scared child or animal to his side. Without hesitation, she walked to him, almost running. She didn’t take his hand or his arm but she did something better—she stood behind his shoulder, as if trusting him to protect her. Like a shield.
“I’m happy to let Anya go with you but we hadn’t quite finished our conversation yet,” the man, Mr. Harpring said. “Could you give us a few minutes? Please?” He said “please” as if it were a joke, as if men like him didn’t say “please” unless they were in a mood to be funny.
“I believe Anya was finished with the conversation. Weren’t you?” He glanced over his shoulder. She nodded. Her face was still bright red. “She says you’re done. Ready?”
He addressed the question to Anya.
“Ready,” she said. “My tape measure is upstairs.”
“Anya, I think your friend can wait,” Mr. Harpring said. “Can’t you…who are you anyway?”
Daniel wished now he was wearing a suit, not jeans and a t-shirt. In a suit, he would have put this pompous prick to shame.
“No one you want to know,” Daniel said. “But don’t I know you? Ron Harpring? Of Harpring, Harrison, and Jones? The law firm in Midtown?”
The man said nothing.
“My wife was an attorney,” Daniel said. “Maggie Caldwell. You know that name?”
Mr. Harpring didn’t answer but his eyes had widened slightly in recognition. Corporate law in Manhattan was a very small fishbowl full of sharks.
“Being married to an attorney,” Daniel said, “I know as many lawyers as I do actual people. Do I need to remind you that you could be disbarred for solicitation, which—last time I checked—was illegal in this state?”
“There’s no crime in bidding on a prize in a charity auction for a good cause.”
Daniel doubted the man even knew what “good cause” the money was going to. “Didn’t I hear you say you wanted Anya to undergo a medical exam to make sure she’s virginal enough for you?”
Mr. Harpring raised his hands in surrender—mock surrender. “A man is allowed to flirt with a pretty girl. And joke around, like I did. But since you’re busy, Miss Anya, I’ll go. See you the night of the auction. Wear pink, if you don’t mind. I love pink.”
He winked and left the music room. Obviously this wasn’t his first time at Kingsley’s—he left by the alley door, the private door.
When he was gone, Anya exhaled heavily and sat down hard onto the sofa’s black leather ottoman.
“Now you see why I was trying to talk you out of this? You really want a sleaze like that to be your first time? Did you finally come to your senses or are you still planning on going through with this idiotic auction?”
She looked up at him with wide eyes. Wide and wounded. Immediately he hated himself for going on the attack with her. She wore a white sundress and a white lace headband that made her look like a half-grown child, ready for a picnic in the park.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry. I just…I hate men like that.”
She blinked away tears. “So do I.” Her voice shook. Daniel realized he was looming over her. He went down on his knees in front of her. He put his hand by her leg—by it, but not touching it. Just a hand that she could take if she wanted.
“Hey, he’s gone now.”
“Now,” she said and shrugged. “He wanted to see if there was a reserve price on me. Or if I’d be interested in a…” She made a disgusted face. “A pre-sale.”
“He wanted to scare you,” Daniel said softly, very softly. “I know the type. He gets off on it.”
She looked at the floor.
“I’ll talk to King. I’ll make sure he’s not at the auction,” Daniel said.
She met his eyes. “I can tell him. I don’t need you to do it for me.”
Exhaling, he stood up. “All right. I get it. You don’t want my help. You’re an adult. I’ll leave you alone.”
Though he hated walking away from her, sitting there still shaking, he did. He started for the door, not as a bluff but because she was right. She could tell Kingsley herself what had happened. She didn’t need him—clearly didn’t want him, either. She was an adult.
He reached the door but stopped when she spoke two words in a small voice.
“Thank you.”
What was this? A crack in the ice? A thaw? Or just politeness?
“You’re welcome,” he said, then started to leave again.
“I do need to measure you again,” she said. “For your suit. The jacket is pieced together at Signore’s.”
“I’ll call and make an appointment.” He wanted to say more, do more. He didn’t want to push, however, and have her push him away again. But he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Do you need a cab? Ride home? I can have King’s driver take you to work if you’re going in today.”
“I’m on front door duty here,” she said. “This is my other job.”
“How many jobs do you have?”
“Not enough.” She gave him a slight smile.
“I suppose if I offered to give you some money you’d hate me, right? Hypothetically?”
She nodded, though the smile remained on her lips.
“Stubborn women. What is it with me and stubborn women?” he said.
“What is it with you and stubborn women?” Anya asked.
“I like them. Against my better judgment.”
That got a little laugh out of her. “I’m not stubborn. There’s a difference between stubborn and, you know…determined.”
“And that is?”
“I don’t know but there has to be a difference, yes? Why would they be two different words if there wasn’t?”
“Good point.” He turned again, looked at the door, knew he should go out it.
He didn’t.
“It’s only this…I know a lot of kinky guys,” Daniel said. “And some are great and some aren’t. You don’t get to pick your winning bidder.”
“I know.”
“And I’m no sub but I know it’s a lot of work, a lot of trust putting yourself into someone else’s hands and if you don’t know that person and you’ve never done it before—”
“I’ve done it before.”
Daniel looked at her, shocked. “You’ve done it before? Kink? I thought—”
“I didn’t have sex with him. I just did, you know… I submitted to him.”
A smile of pride played across her sweet pink lips. She blushed lightly. His body temperature went up a degree or two. Or ten.
“Monsieur,” she whispered. “Just once.”
Kingsley. That lucky French bastard.
“What did he do to you?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. He didn’t even touch me.”
“He doesn’t have to touch you to dominate you. Anya,” Daniel said again, this time in his sternest voice. “What did he do to you? Tell me.”
Her face turned scarlet at what must have been a potent memory. Daniel’s pulse raced and his groin tightened at the thoughts running through his head, the various scenarios. He could easily think of ten or twelve things he’d love to make Anya submit to–acts that would leave her a virgin but certainly a great deal less innocent.
“He…watched me.”
Daniel’s head swam at the image those three words conjured. The first time he saw Anya in her little sailor dress…those high heels with her lacy bobby socks… He could just see her reaching under her dress and
pulling her panties down and off. Knowing Kingsley, he would have made her give them to him. Kingsley would have ordered her to lay down on the bed or on one of his fainting couches. He would have stood over her and watched as she pulled her dress up to her hips, opened her legs, and began touching herself.
“Kingsley ordered you to masturbate for him. And you did it?”
“Oui.” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper. But he heard it.
“You enjoyed submitting to him, to that?”
“It was…it was everything I wanted it to be. Except, you know, maybe not with him. But I know I’ll be fine when the time comes.”
“You think you’ll be fine letting a total stranger order you around, beat you, and fuck you? He could be a sadist, a blood-play fetishist. He could be into rape-play or breath-play. Or worse he could be as ugly and Canadian as I am.”
Anya laughed nervously. “I’ll survive one night.”
“Do you really want to be in this auction? Really?”
She was silent a moment, then said, “No. But I need to be in it.”
“You don’t need—How about a loan? You can pay me back whenever—ten years, twenty years—”
“Daniel, no.” She shook her head. Slowly she stood up from the ottoman and stood by the cold empty fireplace. “I know you think you’re trying to help me.”
“I am. I just want to help you. Nothing else.”
“It is…very nice of you.”
Daniel nearly laughed at how long she paused before forcing the word “nice” out.
“But?”
“But I’ve made up my mind. One night with one man and me and my brothers and sisters will all be free. I’ll be able to go home and buy a little house and they can all come live with me. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it, and I won’t regret it.”
Free, she said. He understood though he wished he didn’t. She wanted to be free. If she took the money from him, she’d be beholden to him.
“It’s not the same, just being watched while you make yourself come and actually really doing kink with somebody. It’s night and day. It’ll be someone else touching you and you might not like how they—”
“Stop. Please.”
The “please” was soft. He was scaring her. She ought to be scared, he thought. But still…he didn’t want to scare her. So he stopped.
The Auction (The Original Sinners Pulp Library) Page 7
