In Expert Hands

by Lily Harlem

  “But I want you to have mine.” He took a step back and folded his arms. His jacket bunched and his tie wrinkled.

  “Don’t you see?” Imogen said.

  “No. I don’t see.” He shook his head.

  “I’m used to taking care of myself, Kane. I’m independent.”

  “And I adore that about you.”

  “So don’t take it away.”

  He unfolded his arms. “I’m not, I just don’t agree with you spending your own money on things I’ve asked you to purchase, or as a way to pass the time because I can’t be with you.”

  “Well, we’ll have to agree to disagree. Whatever this is, between us, money is not part of the equation.”

  “Money is always part of the equation.” He said it as though fact and non-negotiable.

  “That’s where you’re wrong.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  Imogen got the feeling Kane Ward wasn’t told he was wrong very often. She quickly carried on. “Money is important, yes, but not between two people who are…” She struggled to find the words. What the hell was this they were doing?

  “What. Two people who are what…?” he asked quietly, his eyes narrowed.

  “I don’t know, two people who are attracted to each other.” She gestured to the bed. “Sleeping together. Money isn’t a factor, not for me at least.”

  “That’s not been my experience with women in the past.”

  “I’m sure it hasn’t been.” She softened her voice and slipped the card into his jacket pocket. “But I’m different.”

  He stared at her, his gaze seeming to penetrate right through her, even more so because she was naked and he was fully clothed.

  But she kept her shoulders back, stood tall. She’d worked too long to become the woman she was; she wouldn’t back down from her pride in being self-sufficient.

  “You certainly are different,” he said. “Very different.” He stepped back and touched the knot of his tie, straightened his jacket. “I have to go. I’ll see you later.”

  Imogen watched as he left the room, shutting the door behind him.

  Silence enveloped her and she was left with the image of his dark expression.

  For goodness sake, had he really thought she’d jump at the chance to go shopping on him? The idea was so alien to her. How could she spend someone else’s cash like that? Not to mention there was something uncomfortable about spending the night with a man and then being given money the next morning. That really didn’t sit well with her.

  No, she’d much rather give her own bank balance a bashing on Fifth Avenue than Kane Ward’s, even if, like he’d said, he had more than her.

  Not wanting to get back into bed now that she was up and feeling twitchy, Imogen wandered into the huge bathroom and turned on the shower.

  New York sprawled into the distance, and as she stood in the cubicle shampooing her hair, she could still see a few rooftops piercing a bright blue sky. She’d get dressed and go shopping as he’d suggested, yes, perhaps even for some clothes for the club, though she wasn’t sure what shops sold them. And as for a dress for dinner, she had the perfectly nice one she’d brought with her. She wouldn’t buy handbags and shoes as he’d suggested but she would shop for a few gifts, for her mother and for Clarris and Katie. It would be fun to explore the city’s shops, maybe get lunch out.

  But she’d be back by four o’clock. No point in missing out on time with Kane, even if there likely would be more talk about money.

  Three hours later and Imogen had purchased several gifts and enjoyed a coffee and a sandwich in a busy Starbucks. The streets and shops were bustling, the sun was shining. She enjoyed the ambience, the feeling that she was in the hub of the action, the place to be.

  She lingered in Victoria’s Secret, wandering around the section that had pretty matching bra and knickers. She thought of the dress she’d worn to the club, the one with the corset-style front. It had been super-sexy to wear and clearly Kane had liked it.

  A black lace basque caught her attention. It was almost see-through the lace was so delicate, and the bra cups were neat and molded. It had suspender elastic sewn into it and a pair of matching knickers.

  Imogen picked up her size. It was incredibly pretty and sexy. Perhaps she’d get stockings to go with it and wear it beneath the black dress when they went for dinner. Kane would get a treat back at the suite if he undressed her.

  Joy seeped through her. Just yesterday she wouldn’t have dared have such hopes for her and Kane, yet now, after just one night—one amazing, new, kinky night—it was all she could think about.

  Quickly, she went to the till to purchase the outfit, grabbing a pair of stockings from a rack on the way. Having a man in her life to show off nice underwear to was a pleasure that had been absent for too long.

  “This is so gorgeous,” the sales assistant said. There was no one else at the single till tucked next to the nightgown section.

  “Yes, it really is very beautiful.”

  “Oh, are you from England?”

  “Yes, London.” Imogen nodded and looked at the girl’s pretty blue eyes.

  “I’d love to go there. It’s a dream of mine.”

  “Well, it’s pretty special to come here for me.”

  She rang up the goods and placed them in a bag. “What sights have you seen?”

  “Not much yet.” Apart from a sex club. “I only arrived yesterday.” Imogen handed over her debit card.

  “Well, Fifth Avenue is a good place to start.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  The girl nodded as she waited for the card to connect. “Are you just clothes shopping?”

  “And a few gifts.” Imogen thought of the dress she’d worn to the club. She had no idea where to buy something like that in New York. “And a dress. For a night out.”

  “Oh, dinner? Broadway?”

  “No, not quite.” Imogen glanced around then looked at the shop assistant again. What the hell? She had nothing to lose. “I need a dress for a club.”

  “Okay.” She passed Imogen her card back. “A night club?”

  “Kind of but…something a bit different, really sexy, kinky sexy.”

  She nodded, twice, long and slow. “Kinky sexy. Mmm…”

  “Do you know where I could get something like that? Within walking distance of here.”

  The assistant glanced around. “Actually I do. If you go out of here and turn left at the next block, follow until you reach Fourth then take a right…” She paused. “Yes, take a right and then there’s a smaller back street, heads uptown. Along there’s a shop called Stepping Out. It has some really cool stuff, edgy, you know. Not the sort of clothes you’d rock up to your parent’s anniversary party in.”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  “Shouldn’t take more than ten minutes to walk.”

  “Thank you. You’re a star. I’ll head there now.”

  She grinned and her eyes sparkled. “Have fun.”

  “Oh, I think I will.”

  Imogen took the bag and left Victoria’s Secret feeling like she was on a mission. A fetish dress was within reach—she could hardly wait.

  She followed the shop assistant’s directions exactly and became aware, as she turned that last corner, that she was in the street Kane had brought her to the night before. The discreet entrance to Sub Space was just a few doors along. It gave her hope that she’d find exactly what she was looking for in Stepping Out.

  She paused in front of the shop. It had one large window with a single mannequin wearing a tight black all-in-one outfit that included a hood with the eyes cut out. The door was set in a recess and had an open sign hanging from a hook on the inside.

  Imogen stepped in.

  The scent of incense laced her tongue and she paused as her eyes adjusted to the light. The products where spotlit but the place itself was dim. Music played quietly, something slow and in French.

  “Hey there.”

  Imogen spotted a young woman
sitting behind a till. She recognized her. Tara, the woman who’d sat at Kane’s feet the night before then been spread-eagled on the cross and brought to climax by her Master.

  For a moment Imogen faltered. She wondered if she should say hello, then remembered that she wouldn’t be recognized, she’d been wearing a mask. “Good afternoon,” she said.

  “Can I help you with anything?”

  “Er, yes, I think so. I’m looking for a dress.”

  “Any particular material? We have leather, PVC, lace…”

  Imogen took in her surroundings. The mannequin in the window was visible; the black chiffon curtain hanging behind it was almost transparent because of the light outside. “Actually, maybe an all-in-one if you have one; leather, I think.”

  “Yes, you look a size four, is that right?”

  “Well, in UK I’m a ten, is that the same?”

  Tara stood and set down the nail file she’d been holding. “That’s a six, and yes, we’ve got a few to choose from.”

  Imogen walked with her to a long rail of all-in-one outfits.

  “Do you want crotchless?”

  Crotchless? Imogen hadn’t thought about that. It would be good for access, yes, but she wasn’t quite ready to walk around a club like that. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “This one is nice.” Tara pulled a black all-in-one suit from a rail. It had a high collar, long sleeves and a silver zip that ran from the top right to the crotch. She spun it around and showed that the zip went right up the cleft of the buttocks too, so that plenty of body could be exposed. “It’s very popular.”

  “It’s…lovely.” Imogen meant it; there was something about it…

  “And these zips,” Tara said, fingering one of the two zippers that were curved like breasts. “Are great if you’re going to start playing with nipple clamps or something like that.” She undid one, showing Imogen that a woman’s breasts would indeed be accessible.

  Would Kane like it? She could feel the question on her lips. Tara knew him. Likely had an inkling what his taste would be. But something held her back—she wasn’t completely comfortable with the fact this woman with the dark lipstick and darker hair knew her lover so intimately.

  “I’ll take it.” Imogen reached for her purse.

  “Do you want to try it on?”

  “No, I’m sure it will be fine.”

  “Okay, you have seven days to return it with the label on and a receipt anyway.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Do you want anything else?”

  Imogen thought for a moment. The new boots would go with the outfit or the heels she’d brought from home. “No, I think that’s all.”

  Tara rang up the purchase. Two hundred dollars.

  Imogen paid and took the bag. “Thank you for your help.”

  “Any time, and I hope your man, or woman, enjoys the outfit.”

  “Me too.”

  Imogen walked past a rack of floggers and paddles and pulled open the door. As it shut behind her, she paused in the recess and tucked her receipt into a side pocket on her bag.

  A long, sleek black car drove past. She glanced up—it reminded her of the car Kane used.

  It drew to a halt a little way down the street. Where Sub Space was.

  She peeked around the corner of the doorway, holding her bag tight. Was the club open in the day?

  Two kids on skateboards whizzed past her then an older woman with a huge white poodle walked quickly by.

  The door of the limo opened; the driver got out.

  Fuck. She’d seen him before. It was Kane’s car. Perhaps he let it be used when he was in meetings.

  Still half hidden, Imogen watched as the back door was opened. The driver glanced left then right as the passenger stepped out.

  Kane.

  It was Kane. What the hell was he doing at the club in the middle of the day?

  He straightened his tie and said something to the driver. After stepping up to the door, and, like the night before, speaking into the intercom, he was let inside.

  Imogen’s stomach felt like a lead weight had dropped into it. Kane was at the sex club in the day, without her? What was that all about? Was this his business meeting?

  No, that wasn’t right.

  She pressed her hand over her temple. The driver got back in the car and drove off.

  A wave of nausea attacked her and she staggered out onto the pavement, narrowly avoiding bumping into a couple walking hand in hand. “Sorry.”

  They stared at her and walked on.

  Fuck!

  What should she do? Go to the club and hope last night’s password worked? Storm in and demand to know what he was doing?

  Of course not. Wouldn’t she look stupid then, when she found him in a meeting about setting up his own clubs in London, Rome and Berlin.

  She quickly went back the way she’d come, heading for Fourth. Going into the club now would be a big mistake. However she found him it wouldn’t go well for her.

  Because what if she found him with a woman, in a scene?

  She swallowed, her throat tight.

  Maybe their vanilla sex just hadn’t done it for him the night before and he’d had to go and sate his urges. Take a flogger in his hand and beat a lady’s ass. Perhaps he didn’t feel truly satisfied unless he had kink with his sex and she’d left him wanting.

  A tear formed on her lower lid. She’d failed him. Failed the man she wanted to please.

  She hurried on, clutching her sexy new outfit. Thoughts of him in there now, wearing his jacket with the stars on, and his mask as he gave another woman pain and pleasure, flashed through her mind.

  Eventually, she reached The Four Seasons. She scurried across the lobby, not even saying hello to the concierge, to the suite’s private elevator. She jabbed at the button so hard she hurt her finger.

  It opened immediately and she stepped in and keyed in the code.

  Once alone in the penthouse, she let a sob burst out. She followed it with a sharp huff of frustration.

  She had to think rationally and decide what to do—how to handle the situation. She was as good as any of the women in the club, there was no reason she couldn’t satisfy Kane Ward. All she had to do was step out of her comfort zone and give it a go—even if it was going to be uncomfortable, in every sense of the word.

  Chapter Ten

  The hours waiting for Kane to arrive back at the suite dragged. Imogen had tried on her outfit, which fit to perfection. She’d made tea and walked from window to window, staring at New York—which made her wonder even more where he was and what he was doing.

  She played the piano, badly, and watched the news. Eventually, she called Clarris.

  “Hey, how are you? Have I called too late?” she asked.

  “No, it’s fine,” Clarris answered, “I’ve just put Katie back to bed, she’s had an earache.”

  “Oh no.”

  “She’ll be right as rain in the morning, I’ve dosed her up. How is it going over there?”

  “Okay. The private jet was fantastic and the hotel suite is gorgeous. I’ve been shopping, too, bought some nice bits and pieces including an I Love New York t-shirt and teddy for Katie, so cute.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “And the weather is hot, the sky blue and—”

  “Imogen,” Clarris said, her voice stern. “I wasn’t really asking about the weather and the hotel. What I meant was what’s going on with you and Kane Ward.”

  “Well, nothing really…” She looked around. That was the truth at this moment in time. And perhaps it had only been a one night thing…

  “Don’t give me that. I know you too well. How many bedrooms has this suite got?”

  “Er, two.”

  “And have they both been used?”

  “Kind of…”

  “Bloody hell, don’t be so cagey, I’m not going to write it up in tomorrow’s paper. I just want to know how my best friend is getting on with the super-hot, super-rich busines
sman who’s whisked her away to the Big Apple on the pretense that it’s all work-related.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just…complicated.”

  “How? Tell me.”

  “Well… we have, he has… you know.”

  “So you shagged him.”

  “You could put it like that.”

  “Good for you, you’ve had too long a dry spell. Could do with mine ending soon as well.” She laughed then the chuckle died away. “Listen, I’m pleased if things are working out for you, really I am, but I’ve done some digging.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that.” Imogen frowned.

  Clarris hunted around for information on any new person either of them met.

  “Yes, and there’s like nothing on him—well, nothing juicy anyway. Hardly any photographs of him other than shaking hands with officials and a few in a karate outfit. Did you know he’s a third Dan?”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s karate, he’s like a black belt three times over. Takes years to reach that level.”

  “I know he does karate, he told me that.”

  “Yes, well, at that level he’d have had to have his hands registered as lethal weapons.”

  “You’re joking?”

  Clarris was silent.

  She wasn’t joking. Imogen thought of Kane’s hands on her body the night before, caressing, exploring, bringing her to orgasm. There’d been nothing lethal about them then; dangerous maybe in how expert he was at using them, how he’d got information from her as she’d hovered on the brink of orgasm…

  “Imogen. Are you there?”

  “Yes. Sorry.”

  “It’s weird, this lack of information. Everyone has something,” Clarris went on. “There’s not even scorn from a jilted ex or a sniff of scandal in his personal or professional life.”

  “So, he’s been busy, building his business and he’s got morals.”

  “Nah, he’s a man who likes money, status and women. You mark my word, there will be something. No one is as squeaky clean as he is. There’s something we don’t know, a secret, a past, a crazy wife locked in the attic.”