by Lilly Black
“I’m not.”
“You never cease to amaze, Evan. A few hours ago, you scared the fuck out of me, and then you turned around and made everything work out tonight better than I could have hoped. You scared Lucy, too. She knows if anyone could make me distance myself from her, it’s you. It means a lot to me that you aren’t pushing me to make that choice.” He squeezes my hand as his words make me feel like I could burst inside, and I realize whatever he tells me about his bond with Lucy, I can take it.
“It was right after I graduated from USD. I was in Vegas with friends, and some of us decided to go back to San Diego early, but we couldn’t get a flight out…” As Cain begins the story, I remember the crash he mentioned when I learned he could fly.
Is this that story? I wonder, utterly rapt as he tells me about chartering a plane to San Diego.
“One of the engines went out, and we had to make an emergency landing. The only option was a tiny airstrip in Baker, California. It’s a small town in the middle of nowhere, about an hour’s drive from Barstow,” he explains. “The pilot brought us down hard and fast. I don’t know exactly what happened, but we crashed.” I’m horrified, but as I sit here with one of the passengers telling me the story, I figure it couldn’t have been too bad. I am so wrong.
“I don’t remember the landing, but they told me later that the plane was in flames, and I would be dead if I hadn’t been miraculously thrown from it.”
“Oh, Cain! What about your friends? The pilots?”
“I lost four of the best friends I ever had that day,” he says, his eyes cast downward. I slide closer to him in the booth.
“You don’t have to finish…”
“It’s okay. It was five years ago,” Cain says, squeezing my hand. “They airlifted me to the hospital in Barstow. My Mother wanted me transferred to Scripps in La Jolla, but I had broken so many bones, they didn’t want to move me again. I don’t actually remember any of this because I was unconscious for days, and when I woke up, other than being in a body cast, I was fine. The funny thing is what saved me is the same thing that killed the others.”
“Being thrown from the plane?” I ask, puzzled.
“I was hammered. We were all drinking, but I was the worst. I had started seeing Amber again - the one who caught me fucking around in college?” I nod my head. I think I remember her name from the night we shared our pasts. “She didn’t trust me at all anymore. She started following me, calling me all the time, checking my alibis. I felt guilty for hurting her in the first place, so for a while, I put up with it, but it got to the point that I was completely miserable. After graduation, I went to Vegas with the guys, but she couldn’t even leave me alone with them for three fucking days. She was calling and riding my ass from the moment I left San Diego, afraid I’d fuck somebody, and I had had enough. I decided to fly home early so I could break up with her in person, and four of my friends came along for the ride. I wish I hadn’t even told them. They’d still be alive.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“But sometimes it’s hard not to blame myself.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” Exactly. “But you can’t blame yourself for other people’s decisions. You can’t feel guilty for surviving.”
“I survived because when the plane went down, I was passed out, no seatbelt, no bracing myself. They think the emergency exit door flew open and sucked me out before the plane hit the ground. The doctor said my BAC saved my life, but the pilot’s BAC was almost as high as mine.”
Oh, my God!
“There was no reason that he shouldn’t have been able to land that plane safely on the one engine. We crashed because he was a fucking drunk.”
“Oh, Cain, that’s awful!” Four young college graduates with their whole lives ahead of them gone because one asshole couldn’t stay sober long enough to make the hour long flight from Las Vegas to San Diego!
“So what does all this have to do with Lucy?” I ask, luring Cain back as the memory of the crash is making him grow distant.
“Lucy’s Dad was my roommate in the hospital…” He was dying of pancreatic cancer, his daughter’s visits his only joy, and over the course of weeks, when Cain woke up bound to his bed, he and Lucy became close. She would stay with him even after her father fell asleep from his pain medication.
When Cain was released, Lucy volunteered to help him through his physical rehabilitation if he stayed in Barstow, and with no obligations before Berkeley in the fall, much to his mother’s discontent, he did. It was during this time that BDSM became a part of him. Lucy had been submissive in a series of non-sexual relationships in Los Angeles where she lived before her father became ill, and her stories awakened a desire that had been in the back of Cain’s mind for a long time. Though they learned quickly that the chemistry between them was not romantic, they decided to tell her father that they were getting married. He had been worried about leaving her alone in the world, and when he believed that Lucy would be cared for, he finally let go.
“It was an old man’s dying wish, and though I swear we never had any intention of getting married, I meant it when I promised him that I would always take care of Lucy. When school started, I took her to Berkeley with me, and I’ve kept my promise ever since, though I think she’s the one who takes care of me more often than not.”
“I understand now,” I say. “I can’t promise that I’ll never be jealous, but I’ll do my best.”
“You will never have any reason to be jealous of Lucy.”
“Especially since Lucy serves me now.”
“Oh, she does?” Cain sounds amused.
“Uh-huh. Don’t worry. She can still take care of you as long as you understand that my orders now supersede yours,” I say, very matter-of-factly, and though he still has that look on his face as if he is placating me for his own amusement, he doesn’t argue.
“As you wish, Domina,” he says, playfully.
“Good. Now kiss me,” I command, and his smile fades. He takes a last swig from his glass, and with his eyes suddenly burning through me, he brings his lips to mine, the wine still in his mouth. It runs down my chin and over my breasts, and he forcefully pulls the top of my robe open to lick away every drop as he grabs the remote from the table, pressing the button to lock the door.
Is he going to let me be in charge? I wonder.
“Take off your robe,” I order him.
“Take yours off first…” Cain says.
Oh…
“…Domina.”
Oh! I stand and yank the belt loose, letting my robe fall open, and when Cain rises, I push the robe off his shoulders, grabbing the tie and binding his hands together at the wrist. I lead him beyond the curtain, but once inside the dungeon, he threads his bound arms over my head, backing me up to the bondage table.
“Turn around,” he commands.
“Are you forgetting who’s in charge here?” I ask, but I sound like I’m teasing, completely unsure of myself.
“You can punish me later. Right now I’m going to fuck you…Domina.” He adds it with the same delayed, all but contemptuous tone.
“You’re worse than me.”
“And I shall remain so until you say those three little words,” he warns. “So tell me, what would you like me to do to you, Domina.”
“Fuck me,” I say stubbornly.
“Turn around, Evan,” he says with a sigh, shaking his head at me.
“Fine, but you’re not getting your hands back,” I hiss as I turn to face the table, still in his bound embrace.
“I don’t need them,” he growls, and holding me upright and flush against him, he runs his hands down the front of me, inadvertently touching my clit with the knuckles of his thumbs. Knowing that he can’t be overly explorative while his hands are tied, I get another small taste of what it would be like if I wasn’t scarred before he abruptly leans forward, forcing me to bend over.
My first time in charge lasted all of two minutes, but once I feel his beautiful
cock inside me, I don’t even remember why I cared, losing myself in his rhythm as he bends my body to his will. When he makes me come, he keeps fucking me, pushing my limits, and I push back, reaching down between my legs to tease his balls with my fingernails as we fuck. I feel an instant difference inside me as he grows even harder, thrusting into me with such force, he knocks my hands from under me, praising my name as he comes, collapsing against my back, and weighing me down as I melt into the table.
“God, I love your cock,” I breathe into the soft, black leather.
“It’s yours,” Cain whispers, his face in my hair. “It’s all yours.”
“I should probably sleep at home tonight,” I say as we’re heading back to his apartment.
“Stay with me one more night,” Cain implores as he us drives down the dark, almost empty streets of the Gaslamp. It’s really late.
“Okay, but I have to go home in the morning. I have to work tomorrow night.”
“Quit your job.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“I’ll support you,” he says, his eyes like a child who cannot imagine why I wouldn’t acquiesce.
“Cain, no,” I plead with him to understand.
“Then I’ll…”
“…buy Prometheus and fire me?”
“I was going to say encourage Steph to buy Prometheus and fire you.”
“Because it would be so much better to be fired by that asshole,” I snipe. “Remind me. If we’re equals, why do you think you get to make my employment decisions?”
“We’ll be equals in the dungeon. Out here in the real world, I’m the one in charge, little girl.”
“Oh, I see.” I try to sound angry, but it’s too late. He has made me laugh.
September 14
The next morning as Cain leaves for work, he kisses me goodbye and places an envelope on the nightstand. I drift back to sleep, but when I wake, I see it and remember. There’s a passkey to the apartment with the alarm code and a note that says he still hopes to find me here when he gets home this evening. I want nothing more myself, but if I let him support me, I’ll look exactly like what Catherine Ballantyne thinks I am. I can’t live with that.
Back home, Nicole is talking a mile a minute, wanting to know everything that has happened since we last saw each other, and rather than talk about sex, which is just about all Cain and I have done since Thursday night, I focus on more innocuous things like his offer for me to quit work and the closet he had built for me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Nicole so envious. This is the life she has always wanted. She would have quit Prometheus in a heartbeat and would never have cared for a second what Catherine or anyone else thought about it. That’s where we’re different. Nicole knows she’s worthy. She has no idea what it’s like to have my irrational drive to keep up appearances at all costs because nothing ever happened to her to make her feel tainted. I feel like the whole world will see through me if I allow the tiniest of cracks in my perfect facade, everyone but Nicole…and now Cain, but I don’t think I’ll ever tell Nicole the true deepest and darkest of my secrets. Someday I may have to tell Cain.
When we get to work, the bar is steady, keeping me busy enough until around 10:00 when I see Caleb Ballantyne coming out of the elevator, looking around nervously as he makes his way to the bar.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Huh? Yeah,” he says, his eyes scanning the crowd.
“Can I get you a drink?”
“Sure. Whatever beer you have on tap. Is Nicole here?” he asks.
“She’s around here somewhere.”
“Actually, I came to talk to you. Is there someplace private?” I indicate a door to the right of the waitress station at the end of the bar.
“It goes to the kitchen. I’ll be there in a sec.”
“Thanks, Evan,” he says, warily scanning the bar again before slipping through the door. I get someone to cover for me and follow him, carrying his beer.
“So what’s up?” I ask as the door swings closed behind me.
“Have you heard anything about the charity event at the country club next Saturday night?”
“No.”
“It’s for unwed mothers or some shit, one of Cain’s charities, the whole family is expected to attend.”
“Cain hasn’t mentioned it,” I say coldly.
“He probably won’t because mom will be there, and…”
“I see.” I try not to, but I know I don’t go a good job of hiding that I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach.
“It’s not about her. It’s about you. He doesn’t want you to feel obligated to sit at a table with her after…you know. It will be fine, though. I swear. I’ll be there, Cary will, and Mom will be on her best behavior. She’d never make a scene at the club.”
“If Cain wants me to go, he’ll ask me, and since I can’t imagine him ever needing his big brother to take care of anything for him, why are you really here?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You could have just called me or sent this message to me through Nicole…”
“I don’t think I should see Nicole anymore.” When he says this, I feel that punch in the stomach again, and it feels no less intense than if I were its intended target. Part of me is relieved because she shouldn’t be messing with a married man, especially one as fucked up as Caleb Ballantyne, but the part of me who knows how hurt she is going to be wants to slap him across the face and knee him in the balls.
“I’m married, Evan, and I meant it when I took those vows,” he says, coming off very condescending.
“If you expect me to be the one to tell her, you can go…”
“No! Of course not. I’ll tell her myself. I’m just not ready yet.”
“That isn’t fair, Caleb. If you know it’s over today, don’t humiliate her by letting her walk around thinking about you while you work up the courage to tell her the truth.”
You fucking coward!
“None of this is fair. I just don’t want to tell her until I am sure I can stay away from her because there is no sense hurting her today if I am going to beg her forgiveness tomorrow. I hate my wife, Evan. I haven’t been happy in years, but I’ve never had a problem keeping my vows until I met Nicole. She’s my first thought when I wake in the morning and my last when I fall asleep at night, so don’t think I’m taking this lightly.” Caleb sighs.
“So I guess divorce is against your religion?” I ask.
“It’s not that easy. You saw how my mom reacted to you, and Cain and Liz weren’t even officially engaged. Arianna and I have been married six years. If I ask Nicole to be my mistress, our whole relationship will have to be kept secret. I’ll never be able to take her anywhere like the club next Saturday night. You know how that is going to make her feel, but that part of my life will belong to my bitch wife. I guess that’s why I’m really here.”
“Because if I go with Cain, you don’t want me to tell Nicole about it?” I ask.
“No. I won’t ask you to do that. I just need you to…help me. I need to know if our situation is hurting her because I would rather suffer without her than do anything to hurt her.”
Suffer? Odd choice of words, I think as it occurs to me that perhaps a little bondage might be the answer to their problems. Maybe Nicole could better cope with having to share him with his wife if she got to whip him once in a while, and maybe Caleb could better cope with the guilt he feels for putting her through that by taking her beatings. Then it occurs to me that I am thinking in those terms like it’s perfectly normal. Damn it, Cain!
“I will definitely let you know,” I say, though I really want to tell him to grow the fuck up and handle this like an adult. If not for the lines on Caleb’s face, it would be very hard to believe that Cain isn’t the big brother.
“Thank you,” he says.
“Sure. I’ll see if the coast is clear for you to get to the elevator,” I say.
“Wait!” he calls as I head towa
rd the door. “I do want to see Nicole tonight, but I don’t want her to see me sneaking out of the kitchen.”
I watch through the tiny window in the door until Nicole disappears beyond the reflecting pool. Caleb walks out and stands by the waitress station nursing his draught, and when she comes back to the bar and sees him, her eyes light up. I hate this whole situation because no matter how infatuated they are, sooner or later the other shoe will drop, and when it does, it will be the designer pump on the foot of Arianna Ballantyne.
And now that that’s settled, it’s time to start tormenting myself about next Saturday night. I don’t want Cain to feel like he has to decline the invitation because of me. I wouldn’t mind if he went without me. Catherine, bitch that she is, is still his mother, and I don’t want to be the reason the whole family can’t be there. Then it occurs to me that I might not want him to be there alone. It could be an opportunity for Catherine to push her chosen future daughter-in-law on him, and I don’t think I could handle the thought of him there all night with Elizabeth in a sexy cocktail dress doing her best to get her claws back into him. She’s not just an ex. She’s the ex - the one he was going to marry, and she won’t be the only ex there since Cain went to high school and college right here in La Jolla.
Fuck me! Now I have to go because there is no way am I sending him alone into a den of opportunistic she-wolves! Besides, if he really wants me there, it’s not like I stand any chance of getting out of it anyway.
At the end of my shift, I empty my tip jar to cash in the singles for larger bills, and though it is not unusual for it to be overflowing with ones on a Saturday night, what I find hidden in the middle of the smaller bills is Caleb’s real reason for coming to the bar tonight. He was here to distract me.
“Cain!” I growl as I pull dozens of hundred dollar bills out of the jar. It makes me crazy that he ignores my wishes, but I have to give him credit for another clever loophole.
“Goddamn it, Cain!” I shout when he answers his cell phone.
“Who is this?” he asks.
“Who is this?” I demand incredulously.
“I know who it is, Evan. I’ve been expecting your call.”
