“Find out what it is,” I growled harshly. “Laney must have talked to the doctor before she left. Pull her records.”
The older woman feigned shock.
“We can’t just access her medical records!” the woman breathed, eyes wide. “That’s against the law.”
I grunted.
“Just do it,” came my uncompromising reply.
And of course, the gristly bird nodded, bowing and simpering once more.
“Of course Thorn, of course, I’ll ask Doctor Cooper right away for Laney’s records. But in the meantime,” she glanced at me flirtatiously, one wizened hand trailing over her breast.
Bile rose in my throat, this was so disgusting, but at the same time, I understood where she was coming from. Because a long time ago, Miss Lane and I got it on. Yeah, we were more than dance partners back then, we were sex partners too. That was when she was young and fresh, before the endless catfighting and sniping got to her, turning the woman into a pruney hag. But some ladies think they always have the goods, even if their golden age is long past.
“What,” I said in a dead voice. “What is it?”
The brunette simpered again, shooting me a coy look.
“You know Thorn, I still have the key to your apartment,” she said mischievously. “And I know how you like to wake up in the mornings. Maybe I could …?” Her voice trailed off.
I swung around to look at her, blue gaze hard.
“You could what?” I asked, challenging her to say it. Really? Miss Lane actually still thought I wanted her in bed? After all these years?
But Serena is unstoppable and as I watched, she slowly slid her leotard down that narrow chest cavity so that the material was bunched at her waist. And with a purr, those bony hands went up to cup her breasts, or what passed for breasts.
Because Serena’s never had it. She’s got a body that’s as flat as a board, or a teenage boy, come to think of it. There was nothing to cup. Instead, her hands rubbed up and down those pancakes, even as she shot another flirtatious look my way.
“I know how you like it,” the woman purred. “I know how you like it, Thorn, waking up with your dick in my mouth. That’s the best way to start the day, wouldn’t you say?”
Oh shit, she was so desperate it was sad. But I forced myself to stay calm. This old bird worked for me, and she was a decent ballet instructor. Good teachers are hard to come by and I didn’t want to lose an employee because of my bedroom activities.
“Listen Serena,” I said, voice smooth as silk. “Listen, that was a long time ago, no need to get into it. Let’s keep this professional hmmm?”
But the bag of bones wouldn’t stop. Plucking her nips with bony fingers, she thrust her chest out even more, head tilting back in fake ecstasy.
“No Thorn,” she panted. “I know you want it. I know you want this. I have the key, I’ll let myself in and give you the best wake-up call you’ve ever had. Promise,” she moaned breathily.
I shook my head.
“Naw, no thanks,” came my ground out reply. “Don’t do that. And what the fuck, what do you mean, you have the key? It’s been ten years and you still have that thing? Give it here,” came my harsh command.
That snapped her out of her fake ecstasy.
“No!” the scrawny woman squealed. “No! Only I have what it takes, these young girls aren’t anything! They’re just fake, weak, spineless teens, you need a real woman!” came her squalling cry.
But I wasn’t having it.
“My key,” came the command again. “Now.”
And slowly, Serena pulled it from her bag, fingers trembling as she dropped it in my waiting palm.
“I never used it,” she said huffily. “It’s not like I was sneaking in or anything.”
My fingers closed over the bronze metal, hiding it from sight.
“Even if you didn’t use it, still,” came my tuneless reply. “It’s been ten years since we dated Serena, I should have taken this back a long time ago.”
“But you didn’t!” she chirped, eyes hopeful again. “You didn’t, and so that means something right?”
“Means what?” I asked, eyebrow lifted, slipping the key into my pocket. “I forgot Serena, I forgot that I’d given it to you a long time ago.”
But the woman was like a drowning prisoner, clinging to the last straw of hope.
“It means that you want me, of course!” she pressed, eyes hopeful and wide. “It means that your subconscious wants me, that it’s hoping that we get back together. And I’m ready Thorn, I’m ready,” she said. With quick fingers, Miss Lane stripped to nothing in my office. Yeah, absolutely nothing, everything there out in the open.
If I’d thought she was disgusting before, now she was positively radioactive. Because it was like looking at a hungry, anorexic, twelve-year old girl standing stark naked in the center of the space, trembling with greed and lust.
“You want it!” she cried again, getting down onto her hands and knees, spreading those legs. “You want it!”
And shit, but my dick just about shriveled and dropped off. Because Serena is the opposite of Laney, and the old bird had nothing to offer. Sure, she’s always been skinny, but before, at least she was young and fresh. Now, the skin between her legs was saggy and droopy, her labia stretched out and wrinkled. Not only that, but some women are just not pretty down there, and Serena was part of that pack. Her cunt was grayish brown, a dull mud color, and there were bits that looked odd, like there were extra flaps of unneeded skin.
“Get dressed,” I ground out averting my eyes. “Put your clothes back on. Now!”
The woman whimpered and heaved some more, but there was no juice between those legs. Yeah, that’s right, she was dry as a bone, her hole a parched desert. And maybe it was my foreboding expression, or maybe it was my refusal to look at her, but she leapt to her feet before struggling back into the warm-up outfit.
“Fine!” she snapped haughtily, smoothing her hair back. “Fine but you don’t know what you’re missing!”
To the contrary. I’d just seen her goods and it was a definite pass, thank you very much. But again, the woman was a key employee, so I tried to smooth things over.
“Class is starting soon, the girls are waiting,” I rumbled. “Isn’t it time you got over to the studio?”
Serena sneered this time, swinging her bag over her shoulder.
“The girls suck this year,” she said nastily. “I’m working with a bunch of no-talent losers. This is what I put up with, farm girls from Arkansas who can’t dance worth shit.”
I frowned. That wasn’t true at all. Granted, without Laney, the current crop left something to be desired, but that was her job. Serena was supposed to teach these girls, to create diamonds from rough stones.
But I let it go. Enough had already happened for the day and there was no need to get into it.
“Just go,” I ground out. “Class starts soon.”
And with a huff, the woman spun on her heel and stomped out, her narrow legs almost cracking from the force. When she got to the door, the brunette turned once more to sneer at me nastily.
“I know your habits Thorn,” she threw out. “I know them all too well.”
And with that, the door slammed. I sat back in my chair, heart racing. Because I don’t want to let people like Serena get to me but sometimes, it happens. Today’s events had been incredible, and it was only ten in the morning. Shit, one of our key instructors had just showed me her cunt, hoping to revive the sex we’d had a decade ago. Some women are out of it and then some, and unfortunately, Serena was totally off the reservation.
But still. At least she was gone now, off to do her job, and there were more important issues at hand. Because where was my beautiful girl? Where was the gorgeous Laney, why had she disappeared? Had Serena run her off somehow? It was weird. Sure, the brunette had been experiencing some back pain, but I thought we had it under control. I certainly hadn’t held back in bed, stretching her every which way, making
her take my cock bent over double, doing the splits almost. So what the hell? What was going on?
And with a grim look, I picked up my cell. Joey, a dude I know from a way back answered.
“Find her,” was my command, “Find Laney Jones,” I said, before hanging up with a click. Because Joey’s a PI, he’s got all sorts of tools at his disposal, all sorts of databases and weird software program shit, some legal and some not. I didn’t want to know. I just wanted to locate my girl and bring her back before tying her up all over again and beating that pussy into submission. Because Laney belongs to me … and the sooner she realizes it, the better.
CHAPTER NINE
Laney
“I don’t know Ma,” I said quietly, looking down at my folded hands. “I just don’t know.”
Mary was silent for a moment, her hand still on the teacup.
“Well, I just wanted to ask,” she said gently. “Because dancing’s your life, and to give up, honey? To give up just like that?”
My face reddened. Because after discovering Thorn fucking some no-name girl at his place, I’d taken off. I hadn’t even gone back to my apartment to pick up stuff, I’d just hopped on a Greyhound and made my way back to Kansas. The ride had been terrible, twenty hours with only a few short bathroom breaks to stretch my legs. But at least I was home now.
Because the entire bus trip, tears had seeped from my eyes, hot trails running silently down my cheeks as I stared blindly out the window. Gripping a Kleenex fiercely in my fist, I’d tried to keep things under control, shaking so hard in my seat sometimes I was sure the other passengers could tell. But no, without any sounds, most chose to ignore me, staring at their phones with earbuds plugged into their heads.
But now that I was home, I had to tell my mom something. Because ballet has been everything in my life, and to suddenly show up on her doorstep unannounced, shaken and sobbing, was worrisome for sure. So I took a deep breath, dabbing at my eyes again.
“It was my fault, Mom,” I said in a low voice, unable to meet her eyes. “It was my fault.”
Mary looked puzzled.
“But how? What could you have possibly done? Ballet has been your dream since you were five honey, what could have gone so wrong to make you quit?”
I winced at the word “quit.” Because the truth is, I love dance, it’s still one of my greatest joys in life. But the circumstances were so impossible now that I couldn’t go on. I couldn’t stay in New York, performing for the crowds, even if I had a lead role now. It was too difficult, I could barely even breathe with my heart broken, much less get up there and spin like a top.
“Mom,” I said in a quiet voice. “I messed up big time.”
Mary didn’t get it.
“But how?” she asked. “Did you fall during a big performance? Did you break something? Or,” and here, her eyes flew wide. “Is it drugs? Honey, you know that stuff’s bad, we’ve talked about it a million times.”
I shook my head slowly. I’ve always been afraid of drugs, ever since they showed us that scary documentary in junior high. Yeah, I’m that wimpy. But Mary’s question made sense because as dancers, we put ourselves through so much that prescription painkillers are a part of our lives. A lot of ballerinas have gotten addicted, popping pills non-stop, sometimes even downing twenty or thirty a day. So my mom knew what she was talking about, but her fear was unfounded, drugs weren’t my downfall.
“No Ma,” I said slowly. “No painkillers, nothing like that. It’s worse.”
She breathed a sigh of relief before looking at me again.
“But what?” she asked confusedly. “What could go wrong? I just don’t understand honey. What’s so bad that they’d throw you out?”
I took another wavery breath, meeting her eyes this time.
“Ma, I wasn’t thrown out, I quit,” I said slowly. “I quit because I was sleeping with the CEO, and it got out of hand. He didn’t care about me at all, and I couldn’t stay afterwards. I had to go,” I finished on one big breath.
But my mom was completely confused now.
“What CEO? What are you talking about baby? Who’s the CEO?”
Tears pooled in my eyes again.
“Every ballet troupe has a CEO,” I began slowly. “We didn’t realize it out here in Kansas because we never saw that side of the business. But every dance troupe has a guy at the top who runs things, and in this case, the NYC Academy CEO is a very important guy.”
Mary nodded slowly.
“Okay honey, I get that. Did he force you out? Oh wait, you said you quit right? Honey, what’s going on? I’m just so lost,” she said, blue eyes bleary, unsure what to say next.
And slowly the story came out. How I’d met Thorn. How I’d danced for him in his private studio, leading to our first steamy session. And how we’d begun what I thought was a relationship of sorts, except that it wasn’t, not for him.
Kudos to Mary because she listened quietly the entire time. As I relayed all the gory details, my mom didn’t say anything, just letting me talk uninterrupted. And by the end, I was completely in tears again.
“He was seeing someone else the entire time,” I concluded, sobbing sorrowfully now, hanging my head. “I heard them, I heard all the banging and it was clear what was going on.”
My mom extended one gnarled hand. Being a seamstress is difficult work, and her joints were swollen and thick with arthritis. But her touch was gentle as she stroked my curls, like I was a little girl again.
“Don’t worry, baby,” she murmured. “Don’t worry.”
That just set me off even more.
“It was so horrible,” I choked. “The cries, the screams, the gasping and moaning. All the evidence was there,” I choked, a spasm of pain ripping through my chest so hard that I doubled over, caught in the agony. “It was true, I heard them myself.”
My mom leaned back in her chair then, sighing, wiping a hand over her eyes.
“Baby, men aren’t what they seem,” she said in a soft voice. “They’re never what they seen.”
“I know that now,” I wailed, lifting my head momentarily, face crumpled and bright pink. “But I didn’t know then, and now I’ve lost everything,” I said brokenly. “My life in New York, my scholarship, my dance, and my … my … my love,” I finished.
Mary’s hand caressed my head again.
“It’s not so bad,” she said. “You’re young. You can still have a career here in Kansas. There are lots of little girls who want to learn ballet, you could open up a studio here,” she said reasonably.
I lifted my head, eyes wide with disbelief.
“Ma, we live in a beaten-down part of town,” I said woodenly. “No one here can afford ballet lessons, and even if they could, why would they want me?” I asked bitterly. “I’m just a washed-out nothing who didn’t make it in the big city.”
But Mary was realistic.
“So you didn’t make it in New York, is that so bad? Honey, there are lots of people who don’t make it in the Big Apple, and they go on to have productive lives. They go on to have wonderful lives with lots of friends, family, and a fulfilling career too. You could have that, I know you could,” she said, her voice encouraging and warm. “I know you could, you’re my best girl.”
But the words just sent me over the edge again. Because sometimes Thorn had called me his “best girl,” and the memory made the pit in my stomach grow even deeper and darker. How could he? How could he, on our one night apart, bring another girl to the apartment? How could he be so faithless, so dismissive, treating me like a nobody?
But that’s the thing. Thorn had never promised anything. He was a powerful CEO having a physical fling with a young ballerina, one who’d willingly offered her body and soul. The alpha had never promised more, he’d never said that I was his “girlfriend,” his “lady friend,” or even that we were just plain “friends.” I was his employee, a junior member of the corps whose body he happened to enjoy. It was me who’d been dumb.
And the realiz
ation made me sob all over again. I was lost without Mr. Channing, completely devastated, like a piece of driftwood bobbing aimlessly on the ocean. What would I do without Thorn? How would I piece together my life after it’d been blasted into smithereens?
My mind spun crazily. There was Mom’s idea about the ballet school out here in rural Kansas, but I couldn’t possibly. I couldn’t possibly dance again without my heart breaking, Thorn had taken that from me. And my soul collapsed again so that I keeled over completely, face buried in my knees, wracked with sobs.
“Shhh,” consoled my mom, her wizened hand stroking my curls again. “Shh, baby it’s not so bad.”
Not so bad? It was fucking terrible, my life was a complete disaster. I had no money, I had no prospects, and the man I loved had treated me like shit, disrespecting what we had together. How could things be worse? The howls burst from my throat in ragged yelps, my pain and sorrow ripping out our eardrums.
Except then came a dinging sound. Even through the horrible ruckus, a slight chime could be heard.
“Sorry baby,” sighed Mary, heaving herself to her feet. “Let me see what this is about. I’ll be right back.”
Her pudgy form disappeared and I was left alone for a moment in the silence of the living room. Sniffling, I looked around. God, how different this was from Thorn’s apartment! The faded flower wallpaper was peeling at the edges, the furniture from the seventies, while Thorn lived in a palace with perfectly matched sofas and artwork.
But the voice in my head piped up then. So what? It said scornfully. That stuff was never yours. You were an interloper, a girl there for a few short weeks, a month max. You didn’t belong there.
And choking back sobs again, I nodded. Because my subconscious was right. I was a poor student who’d been whisked from my station in life for one heavenly month. It’d been one magnificent month with the man of my dreams, a handsome alpha so powerful and commanding, that I’d given it all up. But that was the thing. I was a visitor to that world, and it was Thorn’s world, not mine. I didn’t belong there. And now that the fairytale had ended, I was back in my real home, with the fake-wood walls and saggy roof.
Tie Me Up Daddy Page 10
