She wasn’t certain the knowledge helped. She was still concerned that her behavior with Kyle was unacceptable and should end. Still, it alleviated some of her concern that her cousins and her father supported the way she was and didn’t think it was weird or deviant or any of the other bad things she kept worrying about.
Putting the thoughts aside, she let her exhaustion take over. She still had a killer to catch, and if she didn’t do it soon, another man was going to die.
****
Kyle shifted in the waiting room chair, not trying to find a more comfortable position but trying to feel the last vestiges of the beating Regan had given him. Perversely, he missed the pain and hoped Regan would be free tonight to see him. When he stopped to consider it, his view of himself in relation to women had turned upside down in barely a week’s time. Given he was already thirty-five, it seemed impossible that he’d been so obtuse about his own needs and desires. He’d wasted so much time chasing after the wrong type of woman and the wrong type of pleasure. No more.
It was all because of Regan, of course. He didn’t merely adore her. He worshipped her. Although he didn’t consider himself a romantic, he couldn’t deny that love had caught him by the short hairs. It might not quite constitute love at first sight, but it was close enough.
Of course, he didn’t think she felt the same way about him. He was sure he pleased her sexually. Her cool demeanor left him mystified if she felt as strongly for him, though, on an emotional level. He was pretty sure he was more comfortable in his new role than she was in hers. More comfortable. Not entirely.
A man couldn’t change a lifetime of behavior and viewpoint without a few doubts, especially given how outside the box his new-found sexuality was. The question on his mind this morning was whether loving Regan was a sickness or a cure. He supposed he was about to find out.
“Mr. Ramsey, Dr. Molvado will see you now.”
Kyle looked up at the receptionist and gave her a tight smile as he stood. She was exactly the way he pictured her over the phone, mousy. He found it hard to believe she wanted to work for a sex therapist. Then again, she looked at him with a certain awkward coyness, so he supposed she might find more than a few dates. That was assuming, of course, that she liked kink. Looking at her prim clothes and blandness, he found that hard to believe. On the other hand, few looking at him would believe that he would volunteer for a beating and like it.
The door to the inner office opened before he reached it, and standing there was an entirely different sort of woman. His cock took an instant interest before remembering it belonged to Regan and going back to rest. Stylish, sleek, and exuding palpable power, Dr. Molvado was the kind of woman he had no trouble picturing in leather. She smiled at him and extended a hand.
“Mr. Ramsey? Please come in.” She shook his hand, a brisk, professional touch, before releasing him again. He followed her into her office and sat on the couch she motioned toward. She took the opposite seat. “I understand from Mindy that you’re going through a crisis.”
Kyle hooked his ankle over the opposite knee and tried to get comfortable. When he made the call, his goal was to ferret out the possible killer of Jazz and the other men. Now that he was face-to-face with the doctor, he still thought she was a good candidate, but he was unsure of how to proceed. He supposed the best thing was to do the obvious and talk about himself.
Clearing his throat, he said, “Yes, I am.” His gaze flickered downward in genuine embarrassment. “It’s hard to talk about this.”
“I understand. Please take you time.”
She had that standard soothing doctor tone that actually was more grating on his nerves than reassuring. Nevertheless, he appreciated how she approached their talk as if it were perfectly normal. She had to be used to people coming in and talking about all kinds of weird behavior. Surely he wasn’t about to confess anything all that strange.
“I recently discovered something about myself that I find disturbing.”
When he paused, she probed. “Something sexual?”
He nodded. “Yes. Something about the type of sex I like to have, and the type of woman I like to have that sex with.”
“Go on,” she encouraged when he paused once more.
He chuckled ruefully. “It’s hard for a man of my stature to admit this, but I find I like to be dominated by a strong woman.” When the doctor merely looked at him with a detached interest, he rushed on. “To be frank, I like being beaten and teased and ordered about. I like being told what to do in bed and revel in the freedom being controlled by my partner brings.” He looked the doctor straight in the eye. “How weird is that, the idea that being controlled makes me freer?”
Molvado shrugged. “Why is it weird? When the rules are bright and rigid, you know exactly what is expected of you, what you must do. There’s no indecision, no worry about making the ‘right’ choice or doing the ‘right’ thing. It’s all spelled out for you. It allows you to relax.”
Kyle sighed and tipped his head back in thought. “I suppose so. It’s a relief to leave the worrying to someone else, I must admit. But it’s also arousing, as is the pain my partner inflicts. Isn’t it sick to enjoy being hurt?”
The doctor raised her eyebrows. “Well, let’s explore that question, shall we? How badly does your partner hurt you? Is the pain crippling or disabling?”
Kyle shook his head. “No. No, it’s nothing like that. It hurts, and sometimes it leaves marks, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“And you feel pride about your ability to handle it.”
“Yes, yes, I do. I feel strong.”
“But you’re still uncomfortable about it all. Do you wonder if it makes you less than a man?”
“I do, yes.”
“Why?” The doctor’s eyes were wide when she asked the question as if she were truly confused. He knew it was a head-shrinking tactic, although he also had the gut feeling that she was toying with him, getting off on having power over him.
He narrowed his eyes at her and lowered his voice. “Because I’m a man. I’m supposed to be the one in charge.”
“Oh.” Her tone was mocking.
“I’m not being sexist,” he insisted defensively.
“No?”
“No. I have two daughters, for God’s sake. I don’t for one minute believe they are inferior to any boy or that they’re supposed to kowtow to the men in their lives. But those men need to look after them all the same, protect them, support them if that’s what my daughters want. Men are supposed to be the pointy end of the spear in the family so that the family can be safe and prosperous.”
“So when that man gives himself a break and allows the woman to dominate him in bed or even make the decisions for the family, he isn’t fulfilling that destiny?”
“How can he?” Kyle challenged.
Molvado shrugged. “Let’s explore how it’s possible. For example, do you have the desire now to stop working and lie around all day while your partner works?”
“What?” Kyle furrowed his brows at the absurd idea. “Of course not.”
“All right, then,” Molvado said with a nod. “You’re still willing to support a woman. How about if you’re out one night, and she’s cold. Would you give her your jacket?”
“Naturally.” He could see where she was going with her questions, and he had to admit the woman made sense.
“And if someone shoots at her, are you willing to take the proverbial bullet?” The doctor smiled when she asked this last question.
“Yes,” Kyle sighed. “I get it. Just because I defer to her, doesn’t mean I’m abdicating my responsibilities as a man. I can be both submissive and supportive and protective.”
“As long as you find the relationship sexually fulfilling, there is no need for you to change your lifestyle based on your preconceived notions of what it means to be a man. On the other hand, if you feel degraded and abused by the activities…”
“No,” he was quick to assure her. “I don’t. My pa
rtner is very careful to make me feel…cherished.” Yes, that was the right word to describe Regan’s handling of him.
Running his hands through his hair in a sense of relief, he decided to put aside his own issues and get down the real business at hand. “You know, Dr. Molvado, I was reluctant to see you, but my friend, Jazz, was very impressed with you.” He lowered his gaze and sadness crept into his expression. He didn’t need to playact about his feelings about Jazz’s death. “You would have known him as Joseph Bennington.”
He shot his gaze up as he said it and caught the way the doctor stiffened at the mention of her dead patient. She caught herself quickly, however, and relaxed almost immediately.
“I’m afraid I can’t discuss other patients, Mr. Ramsey.” Her voice was professional, yet he detected a hard edge to it.
“I understand. There’s nothing to discuss, in any event, although I must say his murder was one of the reasons I’ve had concern about my lifestyle.”
“You’re worried you’re at risk?”
“Not really. I trust my partner, but when I think about how Jazz was killed, I have to wonder about the healthiness of allowing a woman to hurt me.”
“It’s not the same.” The answer was rather curt. “A woman who likes to dominate is not necessarily a woman who likes to kill. Inflicting punishment on an attractive man is something that appeals to many women.” The look she gave him was blatantly sexual for a split second, all traces of professionalism gone. “It’s a far cry, however, from torture and mutilation. Your friend’s killer is truly beyond the realm of acceptable deviation.”
“What would drive a person to become a sadistic murderer?”
“Although we don’t have all of the answers yet, we do know that early childhood experiences can warp a mind and drive someone to extreme violence. Sometimes people are simply born with the desire to hurt others.”
“Or be hurt.”
“Yes, but again, deviation from the norm is not a cause for alarm unless it becomes nonconsensual and/or harmful for one or both partners.”
Kyle unhooked his legs and leaned forward with his arms resting on his knees. “How can one know if he’s hooked up with someone dangerous?”
Dr. Molvado shifted in response to his change by crossing her legs. Her short, straight skirt rode high up her long leg, giving him a glimpse of a garter belt and a lot of pink flesh. He was certain she was trying to be provocative. The idea of a professional woman sitting in an office without wearing underwear was certainly the type of thing to elicit a response from a man. Kyle was no different from any other man, yet his body’s reaction was muted. This doctor was not Regan.
Molvado was answering his question, so he focused on her face, not her crotch. “You can’t usually,” she said. “Psychopaths are very adept at hiding their proclivities. They can be very charming, attractive, sexy even, or simply blend into the background. They may place themselves in a position of trust, someone you would go to for help. You may have no idea what their true natures are until it’s too late.”
She was describing herself, Regan, Mistress Veronica, or any number of other women he, Jazz, and the other men may have come in contact with. The idea that he might look a killer in the eye and not recognize her as such was deeply disturbing. Still, he couldn’t believe it of Regan. He simply couldn’t.
Dr. Molvado, however, was a different story. There was something about her and the way she stared at him, gauging his reaction to her words, that unsettled him. He was not supposed to even be here. Regan’s warning ran through his head. He felt in some way as if he were cheating on her. The guilt sent him shooting to his feet.
Eyebrows raised in surprise, the doctor stood as well. “I’m sorry if I said something to upset you.” Her tone of voice had changed. The concern sounded genuine.
“No, not at all.” It was mostly the truth. It was his duplicity regarding Regan that upset him. “You’ve given me some things to think about. I appreciate your time.” He moved towards the door.
Molvado shadowed him and slipped in front of him before he could open the door to her reception room. “Mr. Ramsey, I can tell that you’re agitated by this session. I want to make sure you’re all right.”
Kyle nodded briefly. “I am, really. I need to think things through.”
She licked her lips. “Of course. One moment, though, please.” She held up a forefinger.
She hurried to her desk and opened a small case. She returned and held out a business card to him. “This is a card I give out to patients I’m particularly concerned about. It has my private cell phone number on it. I want you to call me at any time you need to talk or if you’d like to meet privately.” She licked her bright, full lips again. It was half nervous gesture, half seductive cue.
After a moment’s hesitation, Kyle took the card and stuffed it into one of his pants pockets. “Thank you, although I’m not a candidate for suicide or anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“No, not really.” She gave him a small smile. “I do sense you are a man on the verge of finding himself. It can be a trying time, and you shouldn’t have to go it alone or with strangers. The right woman can help you come into your own.”
“You mean the right doctor?” he questioned with a frown.
“However you prefer it,” was her enigmatic reply.
“Thank you, ma’am.” It seemed the proper address, and he could tell by the way her eyes widened, that he had pleased her. A part of him preened at the knowledge, but it wasn’t truly important to him. There was only one woman he wanted to please.
As he left the strange doctor, he thought of Regan and wondered where she was and what she was doing. More importantly, he wondered when he would be able to see her next. His whole body began to hum in anticipation.
****
After a fairly decent night’s sleep, Regan was back at her desk, mulling over what her next steps should be to catch the killer. A hand waved in front of her face.
“Good morning?” JoJo said in a tentative voice.
Regan blinked and looked up at her partner, sitting beside Regan’s desk. “Sorry, the caffeine hasn’t kicked in yet.”
“I hear you.” JoJo held up a piece of paper. “I have the results of the national database search for similar killings.”
“And I can tell by the lack of enthusiasm in your voice that it turned up a big, fat goose egg.”
“Uh-huh,” her partner confirmed. “The closest thing I came across was a single murder in Nebraska about four years ago.” She scanned the paper in her hand. “One Thomas Johnstone, an auto mechanic living in a small town outside of Omaha, was found tortured to death in his bed. Like our vics, he had his penis cut off and stuffed up his rear.”
Regan took a long swallow of her coffee. “Wife, girlfriend?”
JoJo sighed and slapped the paper on Regan’s desk. “Wife had been dead for a few years from cancer, no known girlfriend.”
“Daughter?” Regan asked in a desperate voice.
“One son, Thomas Johnstone, Jr., who was at the University of Nebraska at the time.”
“Go Big Red,” Regan quipped before downing the rest of her coffee. She was hoping for a big jolt of energy so that she could somehow miraculously think her way to the answer of who their serial killer was.
“Crap!” she exclaimed once the liquid was swallowed. “I take it no one was ever charged.”
JoJo shook her head. “The case remains open but frigidly cold. It was one of those shocking ‘he was such a great guy’ kind of killings, and no one could imagine who would do such a thing.”
“No witnesses, no evidence,” Regan surmised.
“No sign of forced entry, and the only finger prints were his and his son’s. Johnstone also lived in an isolated old farm house. He wasn’t even gagged because there were no neighbors close enough to hear. He was found after a couple of days when he didn’t show up for work. It was such a strange occurrence that his boss went out to check and noticed the flie
s on the screen of the bedroom window.”
“Ew!” Regan exclaimed.
“Yeah, ew,” JoJo agreed. “Anyway, that’s all I have. It could be the same woman or…
“Or it could be that angry and psychotic women naturally tend to want to cut off a guy’s dick and occasionally get the idea to stuff it up their ass as payback for rape and other abuse.”
“Johnstone was a pillar of his community.”
“The pricks usually are, but I can’t see it. It makes no sense to kill once in Nebraska and then wend your way to Boston years later and start killing over and over again.”
“Maybe she’s been practicing other places and hiding her work.”
Regan nodded thoughtfully. “It’s possible, although it still doesn’t get us any closer to figuring out who it is. Any of our suspects come from Nebraska?”
JoJo pursed her lips. “If by our suspects you mean the women at Club Nemesis and Dr. Molvado, then no, none of them is from Nebraska.”
“Run everyone associated with both places, including administrative and janitorial staff. We may be looking for a sheep among the wolves.”
JoJo stood up. “Will do. In the meantime, we have nothing else to go on.”
Sighing, Regan let her head fall back against her chair. “I know.”
She spent the day glued to her chair, surfing the internet for Femdom sites in the vain hope that something would pop. Other than her nipples, nothing did. The images on her computer screen of leather-clad women dominating naked or nearly naked men had her wiggling her butt all day. Although she felt guilty about enjoying once more what was supposed to be work, she couldn’t deny the pleasure her search brought. Only the presence of a dozen or more cops and perps kept her libido in anything close to check. Yet, by six o’clock, she was hot and desperate for relief.
Frustrating as it was, there was nothing more for her to do, so she did what she’d been dying to do all day. Picking up the phone, she dialed Kyle’s office number. She got his secretary and was pleased when she was told that Mr. Ramsey had left orders to be found if she called.
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