by Grace Morgan
I opened a door off to the side and found myself in the master bathroom, which was nearly the size of the bedroom itself. The floor was tiled in cool, gray slate and it climbed part-way up the wall, wrapping around an enormous whirlpool tub. The shower, closed in with frosted glass, was a room unto itself, with multiple faucets and showerheads and controls that I made a mental note to come back and explore later.
After cleaning up and putting on my makeup, I picked out a pair of black pants and a chambray shirt. After last night, I wanted to err on the side of conservatism. What had I been thinking? I had let myself get swept away by desire, and I had nearly forgotten what I was there to do. I couldn’t let it happen again. Today would be all about the investigation.
Walking down the hallway, I listened for any sign of Burke. Everything was silent.
“Hello?” I said, peering into the living room. There was a pile of blankets and pillows on the couch; he must have slept out there. A piece of paper lay on the coffee table.
Lola—
I’ll be downtown for a meeting for most of the day.
Make yourself at home. I had Julian get you that
disgusting veggie bacon for breakfast. As I said,
you have full access to the club. Talk to anyone.
I’ll see you when I get home tonight. We need to
discuss the sleeping arrangements and some
other unfinished business...
-B
Unfinished business… My mind immediately flashed back to the night before. It had been almost like an out-of-body experience; watching other people in their most intimate moments. But even more than those new feelings dawning inside me, I remembered the heat of Burke’s mouth on me, the way he tasted, the feeling of his huge, hard cock pressed up against me...
I shook my head, trying to clear away the haze of lust that still lingered there. Breakfast. That was what I needed. Glancing at the note again, I smiled to myself at the line about veggie bacon. It was an unexpectedly sweet touch, one that I wouldn’t expect from Burke. Maybe getting behind that impassive exterior wouldn’t be impossible.
Just then, I noticed something folded beside the note: a black silk blindfold.
Or maybe it would be even more dangerous than I thought.
* * *
“So you’re the office manager here?”
“I guess so,” the woman laughed. “Although the only person I’m managing is myself.”
We were in the deceptively normal-looking office on the third floor, where Mary, a woman in her forties with short, black hair, spent most of her day taking care of all the decidedly un-sexy aspects of Second Circle: processing applications, re-ordering supplies for the bar, making sure the cleaners came daily.
“Do you have a lot of interaction with the members?” I asked her.
“Not really.” She shook her head. “Mostly I know them through their applications. I’m the first line of defense.”
“What do you mean by that?”
She laughed again. “I look for any red flags that would automatically disqualify them. You know, the people who are obviously applying as a joke, the ones that think we’re just going to provide them with people to sleep with. That kind of thing.”
I had an idea. “Do you keep copies of the applications?” I asked hopefully.
Mary looked at me, her brow slightly furrowed. “Do you mind if I ask what exactly you’re doing here? Burke didn’t really explain it, just said that you might want to talk to me.”
It seemed easiest to just come clean.
“I’m a reporter with the Austin Tribune,” I said. Mary’s dark brown eyes narrowed even more. “I’m investigating the disappearance of a woman named Hope, who used to be a member here.”
“I saw that on the news,” Mary said. “So sad when something like that happens.”
“Well that’s the thing. We don’t actually know what happened. But she was last seen leaving Second Circle around 3 a.m., so that’s really all I have to go on.”
“But you don’t think anyone here had anything to do with that?” She looked dismayed at the thought.
“I don’t know,” I said, truthfully. “But it would help me out a lot if you could tell me anything you remember about Hope, or anyone who might have been close with her. Like maybe if you still have her application…”
Mary was silent for a moment; I got the feeling she was trying to decide whether or not to trust me, regardless of what Burke had told her. Then she stood up and went over to her computer. A moment later, she returned with a print out and handed it to me.
“I don’t know how much it’s going to help you,” she said, “but I don’t want that poor girl’s family to keep suffering.”
“Thank you,” I said. I paused, wondering whether I’d be able to get away with pumping her for a little more information that wasn’t strictly related to the investigation. It didn’t seem like it could hurt. “Do you mind if I ask you a few more questions?”
“All right.” She looked slightly surprised.
“What can you tell me about Burke?” I tried my best to sound casual.
“I can’t say I know him all that well,” Mary replied. “He tends to keep to himself. Carter is much chattier, always asking me about my kids.”
So Burke liked to keep those walls up at work. I couldn’t say I was surprised.
“Do you know if he and Hope were close?” Mary’s expression went dead, and I knew I’d pressed my luck too far.
“I don’t know anything about his personal life. But he’s a good guy. He never would have hurt that girl.” She stood and gestured toward the door. “If you don’t mind, I have some work I need to get done.”
I thanked her and left quickly, afraid she might ask for the application back. Downstairs in the lounge, I sat down to read about Hope in her own words. My fingers were crossed that it might reveal something new about her personality. Something helpful.
A few minutes later, I pushed the paper away, frustrated. For the most part, it was information I’d already known about her. She was drawn to the darker, more extreme elements of BDSM; she’d come to Second Circle hoping to find others who were similarly inclined. No mention of anyone who might have referred her to the club, or with whom she’d had a pre-existing relationship. There was only one line that gave me pause: when asked to describe her current relationship status, she had simply written “Uninterested.” I knew plenty of people who weren’t always on the hunt for a new relationship, but something about that single word was troubling to me. I wondered if there was something more happening under the surface. Maybe the next person I spoke to would be able to shed some light on things.
* * *
Next on my list was the security staff. Ryan and Marcus were both friendly, but seemed to have the same reluctance to speak to me that Mary did.
“I didn’t really know her personally,” said Ryan, shrugging. “I’m usually out of sight, monitoring the cameras, making sure that nothing out of line is going on.”
“Isn’t that hard to do in a place like this?” I asked. I was genuinely curious—how could he tell what wasn’t okay when whips and chains and spreader bars were as commonplace as barstools?
“Luckily we’ve never had a serious incident. More often than not, it’s partners arguing because one wants to take a scene farther, and the other is uncomfortable. People rarely even yell.”
“Did you ever have any problems with Hope?”
The two men exchanged a glance, and both shifted uncomfortably in their seats. I leaned forward, trying to impress on them just how important it was for me to know.
“What happened? Who was she fighting with?”
Finally Marcus spoke. “A couple of guys had problems with her when they were playing.”
“Were they trying to force her into things she didn’t want to do?” I asked.
“No, nothing like that,” said Ryan. “It was the opposite. Hope always wanted to push things, sometimes past what the guys we
re okay with doing.”
“Give me specifics.” This was exactly the kind of thing I needed; if Hope was some sort of BDSM sensation junkie, maybe she’d found someone outside of Second Circle who was willing to go to those extremes. And maybe it had had consequences.
Marcus sighed. “One time she wanted Richard, one of our regulars, to use a whip on her. One of the big, heavy leather ones. Usually people use those more as part of a costume, or they do one or two lashes. But she just wanted him to keep going.” He shook his head at the memory. “She had these red marks all over her back, and a couple of them had started to bleed. Richard refused to keep going. He was afraid that he was really going to hurt her. And Hope got upset. Said that she should be the one to decide what happened to her body. I had to go and take her up to one of the empty rooms on the third floor to cool down.”
“And was that the only time?” I was struggling to maintain my professional demeanor, but the thought of Hope’s bloodied back was more than I’d been prepared for.
“There was one other time,” Ryan said slowly. “She and this guy got into it because Hope wanted to try some bondage thing. I don’t know exactly what it was, but if you didn’t tie the knots exactly right, you could end up cutting off someone’s airway. She wanted him to tie her up, and he didn’t want to take the risk. He didn’t think it was worth it.”
“Do you remember who he was?” I asked. It was sounding more and more like Hope might have run into someone who had taken advantage of her dark interests.
“Nope.” Ryan shook his head. “I think he might’ve been a new guy.”
Damn it. But now that I had something to go on, maybe I could ask around and find the identity of this mystery man.
“Just one more thing,” I said, trying to put on my best “please help me” face. “Did you ever see Carter or Burke spend much time with Hope?”
“They, ah, they spend time with a lot of women here,” said Marcus, not meeting my eyes. “They’ve always got some girl with them.”
My heart sank a little, but I didn’t want to think about why.
“So you see both of them with a lot of different women?” I asked.
Ryan shrugged. “Used to, anyway. Pretty much just Carter now. Burke’s been having kind of a dry spell.”
“Really?” I tried to keep the relief out of my voice. “And that’s unusual for him?”
“I guess. He’s been spending more time on the business side of things lately.” Ryan stood up, and Marcus followed suit. “We have to get back to work. You can come find us if you need anything else.”
“I will, thanks,” I said distractedly. So Burke hadn’t been seeing anyone for a while. Interesting.
Stop it. You need to be focused on Hope. This isn’t the time for you to get all moony over a guy.
Before they left, the men suggested that I talk to Seth. If anyone would have the inside story on what went on at Second Circle, it would be him.
Seth had his own private room up on the third floor, though he was quick to explain that he wasn’t one of the wealthy patrons who paid for space.
“I’m actually an employee of the club, but the work I do usually requires some degree of…discretion, so they let me use the room when I have a customer who wants some privacy.”
The room we were sitting in was a marked contrast from the edgy, modern, and often blatantly sexual atmosphere of the rest of the club. It looked more like a bed and breakfast than a private room at a sex club. The walls were painted a soothing grey-green color, and a real bed with soft, cream-colored sheets sat in the corner. There were no hooks in the floor or clanking chains dangling from the ceiling. It had a window that let in natural light, something I hadn’t realized until this moment had been missing from the other spaces.
“And what exactly do you do here?” I asked him. Young, with straight, sandy hair and a sweet, open face, Seth was the boy-next-door type; he definitely wasn’t what I would have imagined a full-time BDSM sex worker to look like.
“I work mainly with clients who have a specific set of issues with intimacy and sexuality.” I got the feeling that he’d repeated that phrase countless times before.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“We have some members here who aren’t interested in kink, but they still find that their sexual needs are difficult to fulfill elsewhere.”
“How so?” I asked, frowning. I was completely lost in this conversation. Seth smiled, revealing a set of perfect white teeth, and I could see why he was so in-demand. But for what?
“Well, mainly I work with people who have severe physical intimacy issues,” he said slowly, as though he was unsure of how much he could trust me. It was a theme today. “People who can’t have sex in the traditional way because of a disability, or people whose history makes them uncomfortable with the idea of sex.”
“Ohh,” I breathed. It hit me all at once. “You work with rape victims.”
“Sometimes,” Seth nodded. “Though many prefer to be thought of as survivors of sexual assault. There are also people who come from intensely religious or homophobic backgrounds who experience a great deal of shame surrounding sex, so much so that they have a hard time participating in it in everyday situations.”
“So you’re there to…help them have sex?”
He smiled kindly. “In a way. If that’s what they need. It’s more about intimacy, and learning to trust another person when you’re vulnerable. For some people, that’s about getting used to being touched again. For others, it’s simply about being in a room alone with another person, and believing that they’re not going to take advantage of you.”
I looked around the room again; I could imagine it as a place where people would feel safe. And Seth’s warm, reassuring personality seemed perfect for that kind of work.
“I also work with members whose physical limitations prevent them from having sex in the way that most people think of it. We work together to find ways of being intimate that are pleasurable for them.”
As I processed all this information, I was silent for a moment. I had never heard of a service like this, but it seemed so obvious now. Something about his description of people who had to learn to trust others again made me think of Hope’s application and her terse dismissal of relationships.
“Did you ever have any sessions with Hope?” I asked.
“I don’t feel comfortable talking about individual clients,” he said quickly, but his uncomfortable expression confirmed what I already suspected.
What was chasing you, Hope?
Or maybe the better question was, who?
I decided to change directions. “So how did you get involved in this? You’re so young.”
A tight, rueful smile flitted across his face. “I learned a lot early.” Seth examined the tabletop closely, avoiding my eyes. I didn’t want to pry further.
“And Burke and Carter hired you? Do you know them well?”
“Pretty well,” he said, obviously relieved to have moved onto a new topic. “Carter’s a friend of a friend in the kink scene. When they opened Second Circle, they wanted to make sure it provided more than just sex. Our friend put us in touch, and I’ve been here with them since they opened.”
“You know Carter better, then?” There was a definite pattern among the employees. How did Burke keep his life so separate from his work when he spent so much time here?
“Definitely. Burke is a nice guy, but he’s all business.”
“And do they spend a lot of time with members? Did you ever see them with Hope?”
“They spend time with all the members,” Seth said vaguely. I got the feeling that it wasn’t accidental. “But Burke hasn’t really been socializing much lately. I always hear Carter trying to get him to have a little fun, but he just, you know…” He trailed off, shrugging his shoulders.
Yeah, I knew.
* * *
Back upstairs in the apartment, I went over my notes from the interviews; there wasn’t much to review.
But despite everyone’s insistence that there was no way Hope could have gotten into trouble here at the club, it seemed obvious to me that she’d been running from something. I was hesitant to link that to the risky behavior she’d engaged in at the club. It wouldn’t do any good to make assumptions about her motivations for being drawn to the darker side of kink. But the man she’d argued with about their bondage play seemed like an important lead to follow up on. Maybe I’d be able to get my hands on the security footage of the incident; Burke might recognize him.
The apartment was still empty. Unbuttoning my shirt and discarding it on the bedroom floor, I stripped off the rest of my clothes as I made my way to the bathroom. Several minutes of experimentation with the various buttons and controls later, I stood under several streams of hot water, the steam rising up around me and clouding the mirrors. I squeezed some of Burke’s shampoo out into my hand. It was a spicy scent, different from the fruity products I usually used, but I found myself enjoying the sensual, exotic smell as I worked the thick lather through my hair.
It was another thoughtful touch on his part, something that seemed to out of step with the straight-laced, serious man that all of his employees had described. But even more interesting was that they’d all confirmed that he hadn’t been with a woman in months. How was that even possible? It couldn’t be for lack of options; I found it hard to believe that the handsome, wealthy owner of a BDSM club wouldn’t have had his pick of most of the women that walked through his door. Many of the men, too, if that was his thing, though it didn’t seem to be.
I rinsed the shampoo from my hair, letting the hot water run over my neck and shoulders. Whoever designed this shower was a genius; I had never felt so relaxed. And then I had a thought: what if Burke had had something to do with Hope’s disappearance? What if that was the reason he’d been so moody and reclusive? The timeline matched up.
But why would he invite you to stay here and look into it if he’d caused her disappearance? It didn’t make any sense. But still, it was undeniably strange that the shift in his behavior coincided with whatever had happened to Hope. I needed to remember that he was still a potential suspect, no matter how distracted I was by his face…and hands…and body…
