The Fix (Nightlong Series Book 2)

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

They all smiled politely in response, eager for the lesson to begin.

  “So last time I talked with you all about safe words and my colleagues have informed me that you’ve since covered ropes and spreader bars, am I right?”

  Some nodded, while other women mentally groaned. I saw it amongst them.

  I grabbed my whip and flipped the whiteboard over in a flash, showing the rear side. When I cracked my whip against the board, to point at what I’d written there, half of them jumped at the sound I made.

  Half of them stared at the word I’d written down.

  “Fear,” I said, repeating what was on the board.

  Claire the square put her hand up.

  “Yes, Claire.”

  “What about fear?”

  I cracked the whip against the board again and a couple of ladies still jumped. I zeroed in on one particular lady, asking, “Why you do fear this? I was introduced to the whip when I was thirteen. I’ve used it as a resource to teach horses. Why do you jump at my use of it?”

  Claire the square put her hand up but I ignored her and waited for the jumpy woman to answer me. Eventually she said, “It sounds harsh and it looks painful and it’s… something I’ve never handled before. It’s foreign.”

  “Yes, we fear what’s foreign. Don’t we ladies?”

  Many of them nodded in agreement.

  “For many people in the BDSM world however, they use the dynamics of dominatrix/sub or male dom and sub to face their fears, even explore them. When I said the safe word doesn’t always protect both partners, I meant it. Our heads vault off somewhere else when we’re aroused and engaged in a fantasy. We all know, the fantasy has the potential to go wrong.”

  “So what are you saying?” It was a feisty looking blonde glamazon on the front row who spoke up without raising her hand.

  “Fear is what you must play on if you are to become dominant. Find their fears and extract them, then explore them. BDSM doesn’t have to involve the giving or receiving of extreme pain to win submission. Fear of the unknown alone engages the sub to submit. Put a collar on them, or their bonds, and they know their place. What I’m saying is… rather than have your men addicted to pain, why not have them addicted to you instead? If they don’t submit, they face the potential loss of your love and men fear the loss of their woman. It’s what they fear more than anything. So through fear, extract their innermost desires, make them your slave and reward them heartily when they do exactly as you say.”

  I looked around and spotted many scribbling wildly in their notebooks.

  “How do we start?” Glamazon asked again, no hand in the air.

  “First, you find your confidence.”

  Many groaned as if that was something they found hard – or impossible.

  A woman at the back stuck her hand in the air and I nodded for her to speak.

  “But all of you here are stunning, like models. We’re just ordinary.”

  “Everyone is ordinary, until they become extraordinary,” Amber said, walking to the front to stand next to me.

  While I wore a latex dress, Amber wore a navy, lace-overlay playsuit.

  “Confidence is simply believing that when you walk down the street, you don’t need a man to notice you to know you look good. Looking good comes from within. It’s not anti-feminist to treat yourself, or to look after yourself, so that you look good. You’re doing it for yourselves. You have to make your men worship you. Be aloof… be cool… be mysterious. Be unreadable, be hard to get. Make them work for you. Challenge them. Surprise them. Wear styles you’ve never worn before, try out new shades but for god sake, above all else, feel comfortable in what you wear and remember that he loves you, not labels or expensive toiletries. He loves you. And if he doesn’t love you, he’s not worth it and there’ll be another guy out there desperate to submit and worship you.”

  “How do we surprise them?” one lady asked. “Some of us have been married a long frickin’ time.”

  I suppressed my laughter, noticing many others were amused, and I took over from where Amber left off, telling the audience, “Does he have a favourite fragrance of yours? Maybe one you wore in the early days? If so, spray it on his handkerchief and pop it in his pocket. Spray it on a pair of knickers and pop those in his pocket. Even better, have some fun while wearing the knickers and pop them in his pocket, unwashed. Show him that you don’t necessarily need him to find pleasure. It’s your gift to him that he gets to pleasure you. You are the goddess and he’s your slave. He needs direction, not you. You know your body and he needs help in knowing it too.”

  The crowd suddenly became much louder and I smiled at Amber.

  She was a natural at this.

  Glamazon stood up and looked down on me. “Where do I find these latex dresses? You look fabulous in yours.”

  “Follow me,” Amber said, intervening.

  Some women seemed really serious about all this. Maybe they were desperate to break their shells!

  “What if we don’t know our bodies?” Claire asked.

  I winked. “If you haven’t experimented with a wand massager, now might be about the right time. Believe me, that thing can do things. Even a pocket vibrator can do amazing things and show you where your pressure points are. But never let it be said that men are becoming redundant. No. They have their hands, don’t they? Hands we like all over our bodies. Just a brush of our hair over one shoulder, a caress against our cheek. Let him know you enjoy his touch but at the same time, let him wait until you’re ready to go further. Let him keep working for more touching, for closer intimacy. Perhaps let his hand be the one that guides the wand.”

  A hand went up, a random lady I couldn’t remember being here last time. Nor could I see her nametag. Anyway, she said, “Where do we get them?”

  “Google it. You can probably find them on comparison websites,” a fellow audience member told her.

  “And that ladies, is about it for today. I’ll take your outstanding questions… next time. Because there always has to be the promise of a next time. Remember that.”

  There was a small round of applause and I watched as Tara and Amber showed some of the ladies to the shop in the basement, where we kept a lot of lingerie and playwear in stock.

  AS the orangery emptied, I noticed my phone flashing and answered it.

  “Hello?”

  “Got a moment or two? I’m just about to pull up outside.”

  “Meet me in the office.”

  “Okay.”

  I beckoned one of the new girls over and asked, “Can you clear up in here?”

  “No problem, Ciara.”

  “Good,” I said, with a wink, “I have a guest arriving to talk business. I don’t want to be disturbed, so unless–”

  “No problem,” the girl said, her name Elizabeth I believed. She was a cute little thing, so pretty. A domme in training. One of Tara’s cousins, so I’d gathered. “I’ll tell everyone your office is a no-go.”

  “Precisely.”

  Really, I no longer wanted all these women making me feel self-conscious with their eyes roving my face and body as I spoke in front of them.

  I maybe shouldn’t have worn the latex but I merely wanted to demonstrate the different mindset you might experience in a different get-up.

  Anyway, I grabbed my phone and headed down the corridor to my office, shutting myself inside. I quickly called the security office and told my guy, “A Mr Rayworth will be arriving soon, I’m expecting him.”

  “Oh, yeah, he’s been trying to get in.”

  “He’s no trouble. Let him in, George.”

  “Ha, no problem.”

  George was new and over-eager, so the building was currently being held to ransom by uptight, all-encompassing security protocols. Maybe that was for the best. As far as I knew, Shay never had a security guy. Well, I had decided we needed one.

  A few minutes later, I heard the unmistakable clicking of heels coming down the corridor. Edward in his shoes… no doubt in a suit.
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br />   He knocked and I pretended to be scribbling away on a notepad, too busy for him as I beckoned, “Come in.”

  He entered and shut the door behind him and when he was seated opposite me, I finally looked up and gave him a little smile.

  “Nice to see you again, Edward.”

  He looked a little bashful. “Likewise. I should’ve checked before just showing up but I was in the area and had some papers to hand over. Turns out, he had the Knightsbridge property you mentioned put in your name years ago. His solicitor had the box files messengered to me yesterday. Apparently Dante didn’t contest your ownership.”

  I stared at him, dumbfounded. “How can all this be mine? It’s stupid.”

  “He’s worth a lot of money. More than we probably know.”

  Teddy brought a box file out from inside the bag and showed me the first page of the deeds. It was all in my name. Always had been.

  Most girls would kill for all this stuff he’d given me. I would’ve just preferred a happy and healthy husband, in a less dangerous job, standing by my side.

  “I hate this,” I told Edward, stuck to my chair, unable to shift.

  I felt completely disabled, yet again.

  “Will you sell it? Keep it?”

  “I don’t know. Part of me wants to sell it. Too many memories. Another part of me… wants insurance.”

  “Might be wise.”

  “I don’t know, but I have to say… this has thrown me.”

  Edward looked gorgeous in a pair of navy trousers, white shirt and dark jacket. It seemed like he’d just come from a garden party or something.

  “Is it all going well here?” he asked.

  “It seems to be. I mean, we’re not pulling in as much money nowadays but the girls don’t seem to mind because it’s less work and not half as stressful as before. Plus now they get loads of free time. For some this will be their second job now, not just a lifestyle.”

  “Can I suggest something?” he said, his hands kneading his armrests nervously.

  “Yes.”

  “From a completely male point of view, I think it would be a damn shame for the tunnels to go to waste.”

  “I don’t even know if they’re still safe!”

  “Oh,” he said, “Shay had someone check them regularly. Their details are probably in her desk somewhere.”

  He seemed pretty eager to get the tunnels back up and running again…

  “It’s not just that. I also want to make a fresh start here. I don’t want it to be the way it was before.”

  “I get that totally,” he said, holding his hands up, “but what about letting the blokes come here to actually find out what their wives have been learning?”

  I smirked. “And what about you? Who’s going to see to you now?”

  He shrugged. “I’m going through a divorce. Even though I trust Faith, I’m not doing anything until we’re properly unmarried. I don’t want to jeopardise my rights.”

  “To see your kids?”

  “To get half the house as well, yes.”

  “By the book, eh?”

  “Why not.”

  “Just seems, so, oh,” I chewed my cheek, avoiding his eyes, “unromantic. You know in some countries now, they have divorce ceremonies where people get their say and ultimately, admit that being apart will be better for both people in the long run.”

  He leant his head back against the chair and looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t see why anyone should be forced to go through something so heinous.”

  “No, but maybe you could just… I don’t know. Think less about the paperwork, and more about why it all went wrong.”

  “I know why it went wrong. I thought I’d never get the woman I really wanted, so I settled.”

  “Shay,” I guessed.

  “Stupid, right? Now that I know it would have never worked out.”

  “Really fucking dumb as shit, you. Sure you shouldn’t give up the day job and start shovelling rubbish down the local tip instead?”

  He burst out laughing and it felt good to hear a man laugh so freely. I hadn’t ever heard Dante laugh like that.

  “Life is full of regrets. Don’t become like me, Ciara.”

  “At least you have kids. You could never regret them?”

  “Never,” he said, smiling.

  “Well, let’s have no regrets, not today. How about I skip a regret I might have later tonight?”

  “What regret?” In his eyes, I saw an earnestness I trusted.

  “Not asking you out for dinner tonight, seeing as though I kind of did just get a little windfall.”

  He grinned. “I’m in. But maybe you should think about changing before going out in public dressed like Demi Moore. You may stop traffic. Cause a crash, even. Damn, the wind might even turn.”

  “Whatever.”

  He grinned in a genuine way, his eyes on mine, not on my body – well, not the whole time anyway.

  “Wait here while I become less dominatrix, more food hound, wearing an expandable pair of trousers.”

  “My kind of woman,” he said, and I left the room.

  I had no idea what I was doing, but it really felt good to flirt with a man I trusted.

  A man not trying to exert himself over me all the feckin’ time.

  Twenty-Nine

  AT A HOTEL A COUPLE of miles from Pernox, we dined in a restaurant designed in the fashion of a pirate ship’s mess. It was so Pirates of the Caribbean, I kept wanting to repeat, “Yaaaarrr…”

  I had surf and turf and he ate a small bird, a poussin alongside a massive pile of vegetables. He told me he came here often – and for the portions. He could really pack it away.

  As we waited for dessert, we discussed the different personalities we both worked with and how to keep the peace among them. I told him, “The other day when I got back from Scotland, one of the older dommes we’d just recruited showed me a lot of cheek, looking me up and down, whispering to the others that I probably knew nothing. I asked her to take a look around at the place, which she did,” Teddy grinned, intrigued, “and I notified her that every brick and every item of furniture, every wall even, was mine and that she had permission to leave… immediately.”

  “Oh I bet she almost sank through the floor.”

  “Almost,” I told him, “but I wasn’t having her attitude, no way. Some like her think that young people these days know nothing and care about nothing but they couldn’t be more wrong. She was the blind idiot, not me. So I sent her packing. I may as well start as Shay would have wanted me to go on.”

  “You did right,” he said, nodding, and we both turned when our desserts arrived on the table.

  “Anything else?” our waitress asked.

  “Coffee after this, I think?” I looked at Edward.

  “As the lady wants,” he said, and the waitress smiled, leaving us to it.

  “I think I will sell it, you know,” I said.

  “The house in Knightsbridge?”

  “Yes.” I dug into a piece of pecan pie. “I’ve been thinking of buying myself a horse so I need some money.”

  “There’s more safety in property than horses.”

  “I know that but, it’s something I enjoy.”

  “You can borrow my horse. He’s old but a good joy ride.”

  “You don’t understand,” I said, looking at him, “a racehorse. My family trained horses for generations. I want a horse, to race. I want to compete with a horse because it’s in my blood.”

  “Dante never mentioned anything about you and horses.”

  “Dante never asked and I never told. Part of me shut down after I came to London, you know? Self preservation thing, telling myself I didn’t miss home…”

  “But you did?”

  “More than I can say, really.” I looked away, scanning the room, trying to find anything to focus on that didn’t look like the pity on his face.

  “How did it get so bad?” he asked me.

  “I wasn’t allowed to express myself,�
�� I told him after thinking about it, “it wasn’t like I was treated really bad, but there were rules, so many rules. No talking at the dinner table, no shirking your chores or you’d get the belt, certainly no going out to the pub underage and having sex.”

  Edward looked up from his sponge pudding with custard and I saw a hint of recognition in his eyes.

  “So he told you about that too?”

  “Not… in detail.”

  “It was ectopic. I only have one ovary left. When it happened, there was nobody to take care of me. I couldn’t have felt more ostracized and judged. They didn’t see that I was out there, drinking and losing my virginity to some stranger, because I was stifled and wanted to be young and carefree, like all my friends. They just saw a slut, they didn’t see a girl yearning for escape.” I realised as I talked about, it felt like the girl it had happened to wasn’t me anymore, and I sounded so matter-of-fact. Smiling slightly, as though it didn’t affect me anymore, I explained, “As soon as I was of age, I went. But it wasn’t like it was just that, you know? I’d always planned to get away. I felt stifled there. I wanted culture and clutter. I wanted to come here. I expect you couldn’t imagine yourself doing the same?”

  “No, I still see my parents most weeks. My mother and father have been together forty years.”

  “My mother’s dead and my father’s better off. Sometimes that’s the way of the world. She was the enforcer but he was the enabler. It’s not like I got my looks from him, you know?”

  He gave me an apologetic smile. “I wish it hadn’t been that way for you Ciara, but in some respects I imagine it’s made you stronger, certainly more forthright about what it is you want.”

  “Only experience can lead you to what it is you want and sometimes, I wish I didn’t have so much experience. Now I’ve got it, I sometimes yearn to have my naivety back again, just so that I didn’t know the pain of trying to love someone who can’t be loved.”

  The air between us filled with some portentous atmosphere, making everything suddenly awkward.

  After a while, he looked down into his finished dessert bowl and muttered, “Do you think Shay was his first love? I know he would never admit it, but do you?”