Intimate Bondage

by John Flynn

  Kate could barely remember her marriage to Mark Spencer. Somehow it had happened. Somewhere between the shopping spree at Home Depot and the camping trip to Lake Tahoe, Kate had ended up at Spencer’s apartment. A cup of coffee had turned into an intimate moment which had turned into a quick trip to a township beyond the city limits where people could get a marriage license, a blood test and a ceremony all for one price, all at the same time. No wedding dress. No party favors. No bridesmaids. She had to settle for the would-be bride who arrived second as her maid of honor, who’d agreed only if Kate was willing to return the favor. That special day she had always dreamt of never came.

  Kate shook her head, not quite sure what she should say. The two of them were quite a pair.

  “Mostly,” Kate said, after another swig, “I miss having someone to hold on those long nights. I never thought sex was that big a deal.”

  Frank was unusually reflective. “You’ll find that again, Kate.”

  “I don’t know about that, Frank. Every man I ever meet pales in comparison to my partner.”

  “Yeah, I suppose I have that effect on women.”

  “You’d better watch out,” she teased. “Some hot, young senior citizen is going to grab you right up, and make you her sex slave.”

  “She had better be looking for me in Pacific Heights.”

  “The hell you say.”

  Miller shrugged his shoulders and smiled broadly. The move to Pacific Heights was a dream that most middle-class residents of the San Francisco Bay area shared, but few ever realized due to the high cost of real estate. With its blocks of Victorian homes and its panoramic views of the Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge, the area continued to be a perennial favorite with visitors to the city. The elegant dwellings stood as a testament to those early residents who wanted to impress their Nob Hill neighbors. Now Frank Miller was one of the lucky ones who had found a home there.

  “I put every last dollar I had on the Collins place,” he said proudly. “The family wanted a quick turn round, and I called my realtor to make the deal. Totally wiped out my savings.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “I am. I’ve wanted to live in a house like that my entire life, and frankly, I’m not getting any younger.”

  “I’m thrilled for you, Frank,” Kate replied. “I’m just a little surprised.”

  “I’m glad that I can still surprise you.”

  They watched another couple of plays on the television. The San Francisco Giants were leading the Philadelphia Phillies five to four, and the game had moved into the seventh inning. Kate still hadn’t found her moment, and she felt panicked by the lack of time left in the game.

  “I guess you heard about the fourth victim,” she said.

  “I saw something about it on the news.”

  “The forensics guys found a couple of hair fibers, but I didn’t think much of it,” she added. “Fact of the matter is, anybody who’s been to Funderburk’s home could have left that trace evidence.”

  “D-N-A. That’s the new science to solving crimes, Kate. In a few years, we’ll be obsolete. They’ll use little gizmos to replace us. Better start getting used to it.”

  They drank and looked at the television for a couple more minutes.

  She could no longer hold it in. “Frank, I’m just gonna say it straight out. You’re the closest thing I got to family. In fact, you’re the only man in the world I really trust.”

  “So? I thought you said you were gonna say it ‘straight out,’” he said.

  “Dammit, I don’t have time to break in a new partner. Clark’s a good man. A real fine cop. But I need your expertise to catch this killer.”

  Miller got up from his sofa and walked into the kitchen. He guzzled down the last of his beer, then threw the bottle into his garbage can. He was done with recycling. He was done with a lot of the crap that people had expected of him. As far as Frank was concerned, he just wanted to be left alone to enjoy his sunset years. He grabbed two more bottles of beer from the grocery bag, and handed one to Kate as he settled back on the sofa.

  “You heard the assistant chief of police. I’m out of it,” he replied, at long last. “And you know, that suits me just fine. I’m tired of people telling me what to do and when to do it.” Miller took a deep gulp, slugging back half the bottle in a single drink. He exhaled with in satisfaction and licked his lips. It tasted good. It tasted ever so faintly like Independence Day. “I’m going to move into my new home. Maybe hire me a couple of servants, and just live life.”

  “To hell with that,” Dawson exclaimed. “I know you, Frank. You’re not the kind of guy who’s going to take too well to retirement. You’ll be climbing the walls without anything to do.”

  “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

  Kate thought about it for a moment. She finally said, “You and me, we’re cut from the same cloth. We’re police inspectors. That’s all we know. Take away our service pistol and shield, and we’re still police inspectors. Cut us with a knife, and we bleed blue and gold for the SFPD.”

  “I hear what you’re saying, but it’s just not as simple as that,” Miller said.

  “I can just imagine the beating that you must have taken from Aguilar. The insults. The humiliation. I was there, not too long ago, myself. So I’m offering you the chance to rise above that. To go out on top. A winner. With your head held high. Besides, you can’t let some ass-kissing bureaucrat like Aguilar tell us how to run a homicide investigation.”

  “I don’t know . . .”

  “C’mon, partner. I need you,” she begged him. “We’re the only ones that can put that sonuvabitch behind bars.”

  Miller smiled thinly. “Oh, what the hell. The worst thing they can do is take away my pension. And my two ex-wives have already beaten them to most of that. I ain’t got nothing to lose but my pride.”

  “You’ll never lose that, my friend.”

  “It sure would be nice to rub that smug asshole’s face in it one last time.”

  “Now, you’re talking, partner.”

  He hesitated a moment, while taking another swig of beer. “Okay, so what’s your play?” he asked finally.

  “Monroe thinks our killer is using an S&M site to select her victims.”

  “Oh, so he’s no longer a suspect, and we’re trusting him now?”

  Dawson shrugged. “Well, the jury’s still out on that one.”

  “Go on,” he said, with a chuckle.

  “So, anyway, Monroe’s taken several profiles on the same site with the thought of luring her out into the open and trapping her at a public place.”

  “Sounds like a long shot.”

  “I thought so, too,” she replied. “But then, an aerospace engineer from Northrop Grumman offered to let me use one of his surveillance satellites to track our killer’s movements, and the plan came together.”

  Miller’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “I don’t think I wanna know any more.”

  “If she’s what Monroe says she is, she’s going to strike again, and this time, we’re going to be there to stop her.”

  Chapter Nine

  THE SKY WAS dark and rumbling, a huge thundercloud. It fit Kate’s mood as she waited in the cruiser with Miller for Monroe to emerge from the Black Rose.

  John Monroe smiled as he walked out the front door, but his smile faded quickly with the first flash of lightning in the night sky. A storm had been building over the San Francisco Bay area, and was ready to unleash a torrent of rain and wind. He scrambled down the steps and across the pavement, when the sky cracked loudly, a bright flash of lightning hit the street and sparked the pebbles to dance not fifty feet from him.

  “Christ Almighty,” she heard him cry out. It was the first time she had ever seen lightning strike the ground so close.


  The second time came less than thirty seconds later as he crossed the street and moved down the sidewalk. A lightning bolt flared in the sky, and came hurtling down to strike an old Volkswagen bus that was parked along the street. The car glowed hot for a second or two. Monroe shivered in the cold rain as his pace quickened.

  Kate and Miller had parked in an alleyway about a block away from the Black Rose in order to avoid detection by the regulars who frequented the club. For all intents and purposes, they were undercover. Both were dressed in black leather attire: Kate was wearing a biker jacket, which had its sleeves cut off, a short mini-skirt and boots, while Miller wore a vest and pants without a shirt. Kate felt as uncomfortable as Miller looked. Lenny was seated in the back, typing commands into his laptop computer.

  John approached the vehicle from the passenger side, and climbed into the back seat. He was attired in black leather pants and a vest, and wore a dog collar around his neck. Dawson was a bit surprised by his attire, considering what she had read in his book. He did not have the appearance of a Dom, but rather that as a lowly submissive. Was he truly in disguise, or was the attire reflective of his true nature? The more she thought about it, the more questions she had about him.

  “Okay, I’ve cleared it with the guys at the front door,” he said, bubbling with excitement. “They’re going to let you into the club even though you’re not members. Just keep the gunplay to a minimum.”

  “And what about you?” she asked. “Or are you already a member?”

  “I joined the Black Rose a couple of years ago to do research for my book,” Monroe confessed.

  Kate shook her head with disbelief. Monroe was one of the most annoying men that she had ever met. He always seemed to have an answer for everything. He never appeared to be surprised by any question that was asked of him, and he always took great personal pleasure in allowing someone to discover that he was always several steps ahead of them. Monroe was like the grandest of all grandmaster chess players who knew the outcome of every game he played long before he moved the first piece on the board.

  Miller asked, “When are you supposed to meet Crystal Rose?”

  “Mistress Rose told me in her last email that she expected me to be waiting for her in the VIP lounge on the third floor at exactly 9:10. Not 9:15 or 9:05,” Monroe replied. “She made it clear that there would be no second meeting if I didn’t follow her instructions to the letter.”

  Miller looked over his shoulder. “Sounds like she may suspect something?”

  “No, that’s just how Dommes are,” he reassured the inspector. “They need to feel that they are totally in control, and that we submissives are ready and willing to follow their commands without question.”

  “But I thought the submissive was always the one in control?” Kate said.

  Monroe smiled. “You’re learning,” he said, making eye contact. “The submissive always has the power to say ‘no.’”

  She stared at him for a long moment, a slight smile on her lips. They held each other’s eye for a moment longer, then Kate turned around in her seat and fixed a gaze on her favorite stalker. She was surprised to see that Provolone was poised, cool, and in complete command of himself.

  “Lenny, what about you?” she asked. “Are you ready?”

  “I’d be much happier if we were doing this on a night without atmospheric anomalies,” he replied, glancing up from his laptop. “The electrostatic discharge produced by lightning plays havoc with the satellite’s electromagnetic imaging capabilities. NEMESIS may only be able to track your suspect with its thermal and photographic imaging equipment.”

  “I’m afraid that we don’t have much choice. It’s got to be now or never.”

  Lenny nodded his head. “I just wish things could have been more optimal for ‘her’ maiden voyage. I mean, NEMESIS, that is.”

  Kate tried to console him by saying, “Whatever data you provide us with will be better than what we could have gathered on our own.”

  “I’m just not clear how I’m supposed to relate the satellite data to you.”

  “Whoops, I almost forgot,” Monroe said, reaching into his vest pocket. He handed Lenny a handheld transceiver, and placed a tiny earpiece into Kate’s palm. He then tossed the other one to Miller. “This wireless earpiece is used in much the same way that you would use any other hands-free or Bluetooth set. The difference is that you don’t need to connect it to your cell phone. It receives signals from a powerful transmitter back here at the base station.”

  As Kate leaned over the seat to show Lenny how to use the handheld transceiver , she said to Monroe, out of the corner of her mouth, “I suppose you learned how to use these while writing a book about spies?”

  Monroe shrugged.

  “8:42,” Miller announced, looking at his watch. “We’d better get going.”

  “Now, just remember what I told you,” Monroe reminded the others. “There’s going to be a lot of activity going on in the club. People are going to be dancing, doing drugs, having sex, engaging in sadomasochistic play. And a lot of people are just going to be watching. Whatever you do, don’t make direct eye contact with anyone. Stay focused, blend in, and keep moving.”

  Kate removed her Beretta .9 millimeter semi-automatic pistol from its holster, slipped out the magazine, and worked the slide. Ka-chink. She tucked the gun into her skirt at the small of her back. “I’m ready for anything,” she declared.

  AT THE ENTRANCE to the Black Rose, Kate, Miller and Monroe separated, and moved independently through the crowd on the main floor. What appeared to be a thousand people in black leather or lace bumped and grinded and thrashed to the pulses of the ear-splitting techno music. The revelers’ movements took on an even more bizarre appearance as the club lights strobed on and off, capturing them in mid-action performing their forgotten pagan rituals. Some people jumped up and down, while others screamed and shouted. Some pounded the floor in reckless abandon, as still others slinked away into the shadows with their partners. Welcome to the modern Sodom and Gomorrah.

  With very little effort, Monroe crossed the dance floor and headed for one of the two large staircases to the mezzanine level. But just as he reached out for the stair railing, he was pulled into a circle of three large men in tight leather pants and biker caps. They were leathermen or bad boys who enjoyed a rough and violent form of gay sex mixed with sadomasochism. One of the men was Bradley Rutherford. He grabbed Monroe by his dog collar, and threw him into the waiting arms of the other two men who held him tight. Rutherford then moved on Monroe, thrusting his pelvis in and out, bumping and grinding his crotch on their captive slave.

  Kate pushed through the mass of bodies to reach the bar, and managed to snag a bottle of beer from a very friendly bartender who eagerly wanted to bear her children. Everything she had ever learned about gender and gender roles had been turned topsy-turvy here at the Black Rose. She swallowed down a couple of gulps, and then circled the dance floor, staring into the crowd of revelers, looking for some sign of the redheaded murderer. It was dizzying watching the mob as it moved to the beat of some ancient tribal drum. Then, in the midst of the crowd, she glimpsed a familiar face. A handsome face she took a moment to place. It was Monroe, and he looked like he was in trouble.

  Kate set her beer down and plunged into the sea of bodies as it moved back and forth like tidal waves in the ocean. She danced with her arms in the air, turning on every fourth beat of the music, spotting him, moving toward him, bumping and grinding with the other dancers. In one instant, she was dirty dancing with a woman, and then the next, she was dirty dancing with a man. Each beat seemed to bring her a step closer and closer to Monroe.

  One of the three leathermen—a big, black man who looked like a professional bodybuilder—grabbed Monroe from behind and fondled his crotch, while Rutherford seized Monroe’s collar and pulled him face-to-face. He slobbered on the Prof
essor’s face with a big, ugly tongue, licking him like a dog in heat. Monroe struggled to get free, but couldn’t seem to break the chokehold the other black guy had on him. He was precious heartbeats away from being gang-raped.

  Meanwhile, on the other side of the club, Miller walked along the fringes, a drink in his hand, also looking for the redhead. He couldn’t seem to find her in the crowd. In fact, he was overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of people. He passed through the shadows, the air heavy with tobacco smoke, crack and weed, and coughed the instant he breathed the rank and malodorous smells into his lungs. As a detective, he had been trained to recognize all the smells, from hash and marijuana to free-based coke and crack. He never cared much for any of them, including cigarette smoke, and was glad that he had been assigned to Homicide instead of Narcotics. How ironic, he found himself amidst a group of drug users, and had no orders whatsoever to conduct any arrests.

  Suddenly, over the din of the ear-splitting music, he heard a familiar voice screaming in his ear. “Repeat. Suspect spotted entering the Black Rose,” Lenny said into his earpiece. “Are you guys receiving me?”

  “Copy that,” Miller replied.

  Looking back in the direction of the front door, he caught a glimpse of red hair, and with his gaze, followed the woman across the dance floor. Miller suspected that she was Crystal Rose, but by the time he had reached the metal staircase, she was already halfway to the mezzanine level. He watched her climb all the way to the top, and continued to follow her. She was wearing a long black trench coat, dark sunglasses, and a black fedora. She looked a bit out of place, even in a club like the Black Rose, but that did not deter her in any way.