by Roxy Harte
“Everything is perfect now that I’m here. God, I’ve missed you.” The bathroom light was left on to illuminate the room, and seeing her face she looks absolutely exhausted. “Are you okay? Any pain?”
“No pain and I haven’t bled anymore.”
“Good. That’s very good. Try to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
She wraps her arm around me.
“Trying to sleep here,” Garrett says with a sarcastic growl, before rolling away from us. He is snoring softly before his rollover is complete.
She snickers and whispers, “I’m glad you’re here.”
I kiss her gently. “Are you eating enough?”
“Yes. Too much.”
I smile, rubbing her swollen stomach. I know she’s eating more than she was because the babies are growing. I slide down her body, kissing her stomach, whispering to my babies in Greek. I make promises to them I hope I can keep and am rewarded by feeling them move for the first time. She twists her fingers into my hair, saying, “I like when you talk to them.”
I kiss my way back up her body, wrapping around her. “I wish I could make love to you.”
That makes her blush and smile, but the worry she is feeling about our unborn babies doesn’t leave her eyes.
“Everything is going to be fine,” I tell her.
“An ultrasound technician came by while you were gone. The doctor will look at them in the morning but from what the tech said I suffered a fairly mild placental abruption. Master said that can be fairly common with twins in the second half of a pregnancy.”
I am comforted that she is offering me assurances, but suddenly tears well up in her eyes. “I don’t want to have a C-section. I know that Master would have never agreed to the Primal Birth in an outdoor setting, but I was at least hoping for a natural birth. I thought I still had time to talk him into a doula. None of that is going to happen now.”
“Sh-h.” I kiss away her tears. “Let’s get through a few days, talk to the doctor, and find out what your options are going to be.”
I hug her closer, knowing that isn’t what she wanted to hear. It seems a long time before she is sound asleep. I stay beside her, stroking her when she whimpers. I offer her assurances even in her sleep. “Everything is going to be okay.”
Hours later, I am glad when Garrett awakens. We sneak quietly from the room, allowing Kitten to sleep. He dresses, telling me he plans to go to the club tonight but he takes the time to catch up and discuss shared concerns, he drinking coffee, me tea. He says, “Thank you for bringing Doctor Wang to us, he seems capable.”
“He practices both Eastern and Western medicine.”
“Yes, well we’ve had a revolving door since you left. An ultrasound technician, a nurse, an herbalist and acupuncturist.”
Garrett scowls when I chuckle.
“Did the acupuncturist do any harm? Or the herbalist?”
“No,” he answers. “She actually seemed more relaxed after their sessions.”
“Good. You know she’s going to be devastated if she has to have a Caesarian birth. We need to do whatever we can over the next few days to make things easier for her. We need to alleviate her fears, not add to them.”
Garrett stands and pours himself another cup of coffee. He lifts the tea pot asking, “More tea?” to which I decline before he returns to the table. Sitting, he sighs. “Jackie was here, and she brought a woman with her they met at the Primal Birth Center. It was quite enlightening. Incense. Candles. Chanting. It was all very New-Age-Hippy-Something.”
I sniff the air. “I thought I smelled patchouli.” Garrett rolls his eyes, and I smack his arm. “Lighten up. It was for Kitten’s benefit, not yours.”
He thinks he’s won the battle. In his mind there is no doubt that she will have a C-section and that it will take place in a modern, sterile hospital. I don’t even want to broker that subject now. I take a sip of lukewarm tea, trying to think of a safe subject.
“Will you be here all night?” he asks.
Something’s up. “Yes.”
“I need to go into the club, take care of some things. You will be fine here alone with her?”
I fake a chuckle, my suspicion rising. “We will be fine.”
When he is gone, I phone Farris. “Keep an eye on Garrett for me. I want to know who he sees, every person he talks to, and if there is a single particular person he is spending more time with than the others.”
“I don’t have to watch him to tell you the answer to that one. One man. Dean Anderson. He’s a client, real high roller. Pays Garrett for four hour time slots every time he comes in.”
“Huh. How often does he come in?”
“Three times so far this week.”
“Is he scheduled for tonight?”
“I can find out.”
“Do that and I want to know everything there is to know about the man from the day he was born.”
We disconnect. I’m not happy. The thought Garrett is involved with someone, not just work related is almost unbelievable because Garrett isn’t that guy. He isn’t a player. He loves and he loves hard. I just hope he comes to his senses as I did when faced with the opportunity for Eva to return to my life. It was tempting. She was my first love, and until I stood face to face with her in Lewd Larry’s I’d believed I’d never loved a woman so deeply…but then I realized I loved Sophia and Garrett more. I chose the ménage because I considered what Sophia and Garrett mean to me and I realized they are my family.
And now Sophia carries my twins.
My chest swells with emotion as I watch her sleep. It will be many hours before she wakes and as I lie beside her, feeling the small babies move within her, I am filled with inconsolable grief for my other children.
“To let the brain work without sufficient material is like racing an engine. It racks itself to pieces.”
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventures of the Devil’s Foot
Chapter 34
Garrett
Driving to the club, two things are equally apparent: my dick is rock hard and my hands are sweating. I called Dean before I even pulled out of the parking garage, asking him to meet me at The Attic. I should not have a client on speed dial. It’s my rule, no fraternizing with clients. By twisting facts, I allow myself to believe that I am not fraternizing—we have not had sex—still, I’m walking a very fine line. A very fine line indeed. That isn’t why my palms are sweating.
I’m wracked with guilt.
Did I really just leave Kitten’s bedside to meet a man I barely know? What is wrong with me? She could have lost the babies. She might still.
She needs me and yet I feel so powerless around her, especially with Thomas there. But I won’t blame Thomas. I am the one at fault here. I admit that I am a horny mother-fucker who is thinking with his dick more than his brain of late. I should be with her.
I’m literally shaking when I arrive at the nightclub. Want and need feeding off guilt and loathing. It’s a heady combination. I’ve sat in on lectures Doctor Psycho gives for our staff of Dominants, alerting them to red flags when dealing with clients, most of which are married and going behind their partner’s back to have a BDSM experience. There is a certain level of sexual excitement generated by the mere act of sneaking around and the threat of getting caught. We are warned to avoid inappropriate contact between sessions. Innocent ‘bumping into’ the Dominant who led their session on numerous occasions in other areas of Lewd Larry’s might be an indicator of obsession, a stalking mentality, or it might be as innocent as an infatuation. Any instance would need an immediate intervention by staff, usually George but sometimes Morgana or Lord Fyre. I rarely get involved in such issues.
My calling Dean more than crossed the line…
George would ask me if my reasons for wanting to top Dean more and more often stemmed from a fear of commitment, seeing that our ménage is being forced to evolve. We have been lovers, partners, but now, with the addition of babies, we are being forced into the role of
family and our threesome definitely challenges the guidelines of what is considered normal—and I could argue that I’ve never worried about being seen as deviant, who cares, it’s just a word—except in this instance it might mean we were unfit to keep our children. Is that why I’m running, because I fear a hypothetical fight with bureaucracy that might or might never happen?
I’ve never backed down from any label-defending fight before.
George would ask me if I’m struggling with low self-esteem, and as much as I want to argue ‘No!’ the truth is I feel powerful with Dean and weak with Kitten, and for the life of me I’m having a hard time putting all the pieces of the puzzle together as to why.
George would ask me if I’m unhappy at home and seeking chaos as a means to destroy the ménage, thus being given an out.
“Except, I don’t want to destroy the ménage.” The three of us—no matter what. That’s what we agreed to. I roll up my sleeve, exposing the scar on my forearm. We have matching brands, and I realize now that this was Kitten’s purpose when she came up with the idea. At the time she felt threatened by Eva, I doubt she ever suspected I might want to bring a fourth into our relationship. Is that what I want? A fourth?
I shake my head, realizing how totally inappropriate Dean is for the life we lead. He would add nothing to our strength and in the end weaken the bond I have with my other two. I am a fool.
Closing my eyes, I can see Dean’s chiseled body. Perfection. I can smell his scent and taste the salt of his sweat and of his tears. With a labored sigh I leave my car and go inside. Heavy feet carry me to The Attic, where I find George. Thankfully, Dean hasn’t arrived yet and I ask George to join me in his office. Aside from a curiously lifted brow, he doesn’t comment, and leads me down the hall to where we’ll be afforded privacy. He closes the door softly and still I jump when it clicks closed. “It’s good to see you back.”
He motions for me to sit in one of two heavily upholstered chairs and takes the other. “What’s on your mind, Garrett?”
“An infraction of The Attic’s rules. One of the Dominant’s crossed the line and called a client at home in an attempt to begin a relationship.”
He scoots forward on the edge of his seat, concern lining his face. “That’s a serious accusation. You’re certain?”
We both know there is usually no leniency in such circumstances and the punishment for the errant Dominant would be immediate termination. I answer with a curt nod.
“Which Dominant?” he asks.
I point at myself.
He slides back in his chair. “I see.”
“I called him tonight with every intention of starting something outside the bounds of professionalism, and then on the drive here I decided that I am an absolute idiot.”
He breathes a sigh of relief. “You haven’t met with him for this purpose yet?”
“No.”
“Good. And so now, are you asking permission or asking for an intervention?”
“An intervention. Definitely.”
He slides forward again, clasping my knee. “You must not see him again. Not as a client. And especially not outside of the club environment.”
I nod. “I agree.”
“I’m assuming he’s one of our regulars.”
“A regular at The Attic, he is not a member of The Oasis. Whether he prowls the public areas?” I shrug, not knowing the answer to that. “I hate to lay this in your lap, but I need help walking away from this. My place is at home with Kitten and Thomas.”
“I’ll assist, but you must be accountable. You will have to face this man when he arrives.”
“I’m sure he’s already here by now.”
George stands as do I, and together we leave the office. It is a long walk to the outer room which is reception and when I face him dread curls into a tight, painful ball in my guts. “Thank you for meeting me.”
He smiles, expecting a session. Just as an hour ago I expected more than a session. I haven’t done anything wrong and yet my palms are sweating, my heart pounding. I haven’t felt this horrible since I jilted Ellen Kramer right before our wedding because I’d decided I was gay. Oh God. It’s because I’ve led him on…led him on like I led her on…taking what I wanted. With Ellen it was normalcy, I didn’t have to face being different; with Dean it was the power I felt topping him.
“We need to talk.”
He looks confused. “Is something wrong, Sir? Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” I answer as gently as I can. “You didn’t do anything. I needed you to come down here tonight because I feel like when you were here last you might have left with the impression that our relationship was going to move outside of the professional parameters of Lewd Larry’s…and I just wanted to make certain that you understood that isn’t possible.”
He gives me a crestfallen look but tells me he understands. Damn it.
I smile my perfect Lewd Larry’s smile and wrap my arm around his shoulder. “I want you to meet someone. I’d like you to consider booking a session with Doctor Psycho. He’s one of our most experienced and reputable Dominants.”
I watch his face run the gamut from miserable to curious to excited in fewer seconds than it takes my brain to figure out that he isn’t devastated by the sudden loss of me.
“Doctor Psycho?” He reaches out his hand. “It’s an honor, Sir.”
George doesn’t take his hand. He gives him his classic domination glare.
“Oh! I apologize, Sir. I meant no disrespect. I-I—”
I leave Dean stumbling over his tongue and hurry away from the scene. I’m suddenly disappointed that I was so easily replaceable, but by the time I reach my car I’m laughing at myself. I could have really fucked up. Dean Anderson was a classic example of Dom Adoration. It didn’t matter which Dom, any Dominant would do. I laugh harder, realizing he never saw me and that’s perhaps the reason I felt so God-like being with him.
I think of Kitten’s efforts to challenge me, forcing me to pull from a deep well inside myself to control her. She sees me. Human, not a God, and we’re in this relationship, struggling together and against each other to figure out our power balance.
I smile, finally seeing past my failures. God, I’ve been such an idiot.
“They gave themselves up wholly to their sorrow.”
Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility
Chapter 35
Thomas
I watch Sophia sleep from a chair near the window, though she awakens shortly after Garrett leaves and is understandably disappointed, but I am still surprised when she busts out in tears. “I never wanted to hurt the ménage. Master hasn’t been the same since he found out I was pregnant. This is why I considered an abortion, to keep us from falling apart. Now, I might lose the babies anyway, and it won’t matter if I’ve already lost him.”
I join her on the bed, sitting down on top of the blankets. I pull them up to her chin, tucking her in. “I don’t believe we’ve lost Garrett. I think he’s had a lot on his mind.”
She shudders, tears still sliding over her cheeks.
“You should go back to sleep. I can tell by looking at you that you aren’t getting enough.”
Petulantly, she argues, “I’m not tired.”
She looks so vulnerable and afraid, not the woman of strength I’ve come to love. I’m worried about her. Of course, I’m concerned about the health of the babies and Garrett’s peculiar behavior as well so I can hardly fault her for crumbling under the stress. Not to disregard my own behavior. Nikos has kept me away for too long. I kiss her cheek. “I’m sorry I was gone so long.”
She barely acknowledges.
I pull the sheets and blankets away from her slowly, drawing them down her body in a teasing reveal. I cover her shoulders with kisses, gradually moving to her breasts. I kiss them only, not sucking her nipples though it is so tempting. I slide my hand down her stomach before drawing circles on her expanded belly.
“Do you wish me to pleasure you, Lord Fyre?”
>
“No.” I slip my fingers between her thighs and feel her tense.
“I don’t think—”
“Sh-h, relax.” I interrupt her. “I have no intention of having sex with you until Doctor Wang feels it is safe.” I slide my fingers through her damp folds. Showing her the fluid covering my fingers. “No blood. That’s a very good sign.”
She shifts nervously and our gazes touch.
“I don’t think Doctor Wang would have any problem with me worshiping the vessel who is carrying my babies. Do you know how absolutely radiant you are? Or how powerfully sensual you look like this?” I rub my hands over the small swell of her womb. “I haven’t told you ‘thank you’ yet. I know it is a terrifying journey you’ve embarked on, and until now I haven’t been here to make you feel safe, or cherished. I am sorry for that.” I kiss her…navel to toes…saying with each press of my lips, “Thank you.”
* * * *
“I was going to wait until morning, but I brought you a present.” I reach behind the bed for a large bag I placed there while she was sleeping. I remove a medium size box and hand it to her.
Readjusting pillows to sit up, she reads the label. “Smarter Baby?”
While she opens the box and investigates, pulling out headphones, a mini-microphone, a set of fetal speakers, and an elasticized wrap with pockets for the speakers, I explain, “You can play music or read a book to the babies and the speakers direct the sound inside.”
She looks at me expectantly, not understanding.
“We had a set when Lattie was pregnant because I’d read studies had proven playing classical music to unborn babies helped to stimulate growth and enhance mental development. She enjoyed listening to the same music she was playing for the baby when she was exercising or doing housework. I thought it might be something fun for you to do while you’re confined to bed.”
She smiles but the expression doesn’t extend to her eyes. Tears leak out when she explains, “I love the gift, I really do, I’m just so afraid I’m going to lose them.”
“Please stop worrying.” I take her hand and kiss her knuckles. “Do you trust me?”
