by Poppy Flynn
Not that that had even happened with Micah yet, although Charlotte was more than happy to engage that option now.
Micah, on the other hand, seemed determined to prove to her that a fulfilling D/s relationship didn't have to include intercourse after Charlotte's initial reservations and, so far, Charlotte certainly couldn't complain. She was feeling contented and satisfied and she didn't doubt that Micah felt the same.
When she had finally come around from the stupor of their first public scene, Charlotte had been mortified that she was so completely out of it that it was almost like she was drunk. Guilt had eaten at her that Micah had provided her with such an incredible experience and yet she had given nothing in return.
Micah, on the other hand, had been euphoric. So much so that Charlotte had almost expected to find him doing some kind of happy dance and chanting 'I'm da maaan' like some sort of psychotic Neanderthal. His calm, measured, psychologist persona had been completely overridden and Micah had basked in a jubilant delight.
"This high…" he had enthused, grasping her hands "…this is what you give to me. The knowledge that you have offered yourself so completely that you're able to reach subspace."
He'd shaken his head, still somewhat incredulous. "That's no mean feat in itself. Some subs take years to find that level of trust before they can truly let themselves go and yet you…you managed it on your first public visit to the club, at your first introduction to impact play, during your very first scene. Our very first scene. That is the pinnacle of submission and it's something I'm more than happy to take credit for. This is my kudos." He'd grinned happily.
"That your faith is absolute and that I, in turn, can take that faith and mould it into a wonderful experience for you…that is what the power exchange is all about. That is my glory. It is a feeling that's almost indescribable. Like an orgasm of a different kind, but honestly, just as potent."
Charlotte couldn't help but believe him. Whatever it was he was feeling was clearly far more enduring than the transience of orgasm. And maybe she did understand a little of what he experienced since, for the first time, she, too, could appreciate the serene tranquillity that she used to observe in Desi after she'd scened with Joel in those long-ago days when they were all at University together.
Her reverie was interrupted by an unusual commotion just outside the normally quiet private lounge, where only the owners, staff, club subs and club Doms—in short, just those who were involved in the running of the club—were allowed entry. Charlotte was only there, herself, because Micah had stashed her away there while he dealt with whatever emergency had called him away from their training time and she wasn't allowed on the club floor without her chaperone. Not that she wanted to be. Oh, no! Sometimes, she felt like she was being swooped upon by a flock of vultures, even when she was down there with Micah. She knew it was only her fanciful imagination brought on by a lack of confidence, but she certainly didn't want to deal with it all without Micah's protection.
Suddenly, Laurel Stanton burst into the room. She was dressed rather more conservatively than her usual flamboyant style and certainly showing a lot less skin, but it was the abject misery on what was normally an especially bubbly face and the way her shoulders slumped in absolute defeat that had Charlotte jumping up and helping her to a small couch, where she dropped down beside the other girl and instinctively pulled her close for a hug.
If anything, that seemed to be Laurel's undoing as great, heaving sobs started to rack her body and tears poured down her cheeks. And she certainly wasn't a pretty crier. Her cheeks mottled, her nose got red and her eyes puffed up almost immediately.
"Are you okay, Fluff?" Charlotte asked, remembering to stick to protocol. Not the right thing to do! Charlotte deduced as Laurel started crying harder. "D-don't want to be F-fluff right now," she hiccupped.
"No problem, there's only us here, so Laurel it is," Charlotte stated, trying to sound upbeat, as if someone who was more than an acquaintance but not quite a friend wasn't clouding up and raining all over her.
"You're the only one who knows that," she sniffled. Charlotte wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing right now, so she kept her mouth shut.
"Apart from Micah and Desi, of course. And now Joel…and him," she spat.
Not knowing who the 'him' might be, Charlotte continued to rub her palm across Laurel's back. It was obvious that whomever she referred to was the cause of this uncharacteristic meltdown but, since she didn't know enough to comment, she stuck to soothing platitudes.
Suddenly, Laurel jumped up off the sofa and stormed across the room and then back again.
"Look at me!" she wailed, ripping at her clothing and pointing at various sections of her skin. That was when Charlotte noticed for the first time that Laurel was covered in…were those bites? Lesions? Was Laurel ill? Contagious?
Now that Charlotte looked carefully, she could see what Laurel had taken pains to conceal. Every inch of her body seemed to be covered with the reddish-purple bruises. Up her legs, which she'd attempted to hide with black stockings. Along her arms, which she'd covered as best she could with a semi-transparent gauzy top. Around her neck, where she'd donned a thick velvet choker. Charlotte frowned. Unless Laurel had some extremely professional makeup, her face was clear of the blemishes, except on the curve of her jaw close to her ear, but she'd left her blonde streaked brown hair to fall around her shoulders instead of confining it in its usual sleek topknot, as if that, too, was providing camouflage.
Charlotte was momentarily speechless. She hesitated to verbalise it, but should Laurel even be here looking like this? Was that why she was so upset? Had Micah suggested she leave until she'd recovered. If that was the case, Charlotte was afraid she might actually upset Laurel further, since she would agree with him.
Laurel ceased her pacing and stopped in front of her. "Look what he's done to me!" she screeched, pulling up her top and revealing a surprisingly regimented row of marks running the length of her abdomen, completely central from breastbone to pelvis. Charlotte frowned some more. They didn't look random.
Laurel's words started to sink in, and Charlotte's eyes widened with realisation. "Are those…love bites?" she asked, astounded.
"Love? Ha! They're hickies!" Laurel shrieked. "Fucking hickies—everywhere!"
It took Charlotte a second to get over the shock. She still didn't know what to say. "Um, do you want to talk about it?" she hedged.
Laurel seemed to physically crumple after her fit of outrage. She flopped back down next to Charlotte and it was obvious she was crying again, though, this time, without the noise. Somehow, those silent tears almost seemed worse.
Charlotte grabbed one of the soft aftercare blankets that were dotted around the room and swaddled Laurel in it as best she could, since, clearly, the sight of the marks was adding to her distress.
"Oh, damn, how could I be so stupid?" Laurel sobbed. "I let him do this. I let him do this to me."
Still feeling somewhat out of her depth, Charlotte pulled Laurel into her side and rubbed her arm through the blanket. She might not be able to comment, since she didn't know what the hell was going on, but she could allow Laurel to vent, if that's what she needed, or give her a shoulder to cry on.
"I should have known better," Laurel choked out, and Charlotte hurried to pass her a bottle of water. "I should never have mixed business and pleasure. Whatever anyone thinks, I'm not usually that stupid. What am I going to do?"
'Business and pleasure?' Something to do with work, then? Charlotte did her best to try and piece things together. "Is it really that bad?" she asked, trying to be supportive without highlighting her ignorance.
"I think it is," Laurel whispered sadly. "I don't think I can stay."
"Stay here?" Charlotte qualified. She must be talking about here, the club. She couldn't have meant Blackwood Universal. Laurel had been Desi's PA for years now, and as Desi had climbed the corporate ladder, she had always insisted on taking Laurel with her.
&nbs
p; The other woman laughed bitterly. "Yeah, who the hell knows, maybe here as well. That's a distinct possibility, considering how well in he seems to be with this lot. God, I hadn't even thought of that." Her shoulders shook silently as more tears streamed.
"That bastard could end up costing me everything. My lifestyle and my status here as well as my job."
Charlotte screwed her eyes up, trying to pull together the threads Laurel was tossing her. She didn't dare ask for specifics. She had a terrible feeling that might just launch Laurel over the edge.
"Surely, it can't affect your job," Charlotte rationalised. "You work for Desi; she won't allow it."
"I don't think I can hold out until she gets back," Laurel whimpered. "Especially not since they've extended their honeymoon."
Charlotte puffed out a breath. Joel and Desi had been gone for two weeks, but it would be another six before they returned, since they'd decided to add an additional four weeks to their vacation. The company's biggest control freak and the greatest workaholic—who'd have thought it! Clearly, now that Joel and Desi had finally left work behind, they'd found far better things to do!
Charlotte rubbed her forehead and focused on Laurel once again.
"Can't you just keep your head down, lie low? Take some vacation time?" she asked.
"It wouldn't make any difference," Laurel answered dejectedly. "The last few days, all he's done is nit-pick. No matter what I do or what I say, what I wear or when I take my lunch; every single thing I do is wrong. He finds fault with my work, with my office hours, with my telephone manner, with my clothing…" Her voice broke painfully. "I have to give notice for vacation time and I only have maybe ten days owing, anyway." She sniffed. Charlotte rummaged about and finally found a tissue. Laurel took it and blew her nose, swiping her wet cheeks with the heel of her hand.
"And the way he's behaving at the moment, he'd probably deny it, anyway." Hurt took hold and settled in Laurel's eyes. "Or maybe he'd be glad to get rid of me."
She paused, taking a couple of sips of water, quiet for a moment. Contemplating, but looking so very sad.
"I thought we had something special. Something that might grow into…I don't know. More. But now, he's doing nothing but pushing me away and not even in a nice way. He's been harsh, so very harsh. At work, here…" She sounded heartbroken.
"I let him take liberties that I wouldn't have allowed any other man." She wept. "Because I wanted him to be happy, because I wanted to submit every part of myself to him. And he took that gift and just…" Laurel's voice broke again, this time on a sob. "He just smashed it to pieces. I allowed him to cover me in all these possession marks because I truly believed it meant something to him. That he was staking his claim for everyone to see." She panted heavily, trying to maintain some composure. "And everyone did see, and that would have been fine. But then he pulled away, avoided me, and I couldn't scene with anyone else—not even to spite him—because, suddenly, all these abrasions make it like I'm damaged goods. Doms don't want to play with a sub who has another man's marks all over her body." Her breathing shuddered. "It's made me feel cheap and…used and…dirty. In all my years in this lifestyle, even around people who didn't understand or were critical, I never felt dirty before." Laurel shuddered.
"And to top it all, like it's just to rub my nose in it, he's down there tonight. Scening with some other sub and I hated it, even though I tried to pretend it didn't matter. Because he was never my personal Dom, so I didn't have any rights to exclusivity and I knew all that, accepted it. But it still hurt. And then when he saw me…when he saw me…" Laurel swallowed painfully. "It was like he deliberately started to fuck her. He started fucking her, but all the time, he was looking at me." She took a deep, quivering breath. "He looked at me and the fucking bastard smiled! Smiled because he knew how much he'd hurt me, and it made him smug! What did I ever do to deserve that?" Laurel asked in a small, broken voice.
"That's why I don't think I can go back to Blackwood Universal. How am I supposed to continue as his PA when he treats me like that? I've barely survived this week. There's no way I can handle another six, until Desi returns."
With that, Laurel curled into a foetal position with her head on Charlotte's lap and just let the tears flow, while Charlotte scrambled to put the final puzzle pieces together and eventually found a conclusion.
Of course, Connor Griffin!
Chapter 8
Charlotte ended up going home early and taking poor, distraught Laurel with her. Whatever emergency Micah was dealing with seemed to have everyone in a bit of a tizzy.
All Charlotte knew was that it involved some female reporter trying to sneak in as a guest. Charlotte knew of the woman; she had a reputation for penning sensationalised stories for the gutter press and she'd been less than honest about her identity with the Dom she had asked to bring her.
Even the rat of the hour, Connor Griffin, was now holed up in conference with Micah, though Charlotte wasn't quite sure what an out of town guest had to do with the situation. Unless, of course, Connor was the member the reporter had latched onto. That would make sense, she supposed, since being new would have perhaps made him an easier mark. Except that Laurel had said that Connor was in the dungeon, busy shoving Laurel's nose in his escapades when all this apparently went down. So maybe that didn't add up, after all.
Nevertheless, she'd seen Connor with her own eyes when Micah had come to make his apologies to her. He'd been in Micah's office, along with Trinity, an experienced club sub from another club on the South Coast, who had been hired as Micah's assistant manager.
Of course, Connor had seemed relaxed enough, certainly not giving off the vibe of a man who was in any kind of trouble. More annoyed, if anything, except for a brief flash of something that may—or may not—have been regret, when Charlotte guided Laurel, still wrapped in a blanket and looking small and broken, out of the lounge so she could make sure the other girl got home safely. Indeed, she was in no fit state to be left alone to fend for herself right now. Jake's friend showed absolutely no sign of recognising Charlotte, for which she was eternally grateful. She'd seen him from a distance occasionally when they'd all been at University, but that had been after Desi left, which had effectively severed the very tenuous ties she'd had with that group, so she'd never spent any time with him. Just the day of Joel and Desi's wedding, really, and they'd both been preoccupied that day. Charlotte recognised him, of course. Difficult not to, really, since he was a distinctive giant of a man, whereas she, herself, was more of a little brown mouse and Connor's attention was fixed on Laurel.
She'd been aware of Micah's immediate concern when he'd seen the state that Laurel was in, and she'd recognised the battle in his eyes as he warred with himself over the need to look after one of his club subs and the obligation of dealing with business.
Micah cared about the well-being of every person who set foot into his club; it was a very genuine part of his appeal. She noticed the inscrutable look that passed between him and Connor as she and Laurel paused momentarily in the doorway. But in the end, Charlotte made the decision for him, promising to take care of Laurel and make sure she got home safely. Micah could take the issue up with Fluff later, if he felt it necessary, and devote his time right now to dealing with whatever damage they believed this reporter might have caused.
Trained as a journalist herself, Charlotte couldn't help thinking that if the whole BDSM scene was a little less shrouded in secrecy and maybe concentrated on developing some positive exposure, then none of it would be a mystery anymore and clubs would cease being open to this kind of broadcasting challenge. Take away the enigma, take away the problem, as far as she was concerned.
People were only interested in what they perceived to be restricted and confidential. It was purely human nature to be inquisitive, to delve into the unknown.
The press thrived on the concept that anything clandestine must be deviant or unscrupulous and subsequently set out to prove it. That those who fought to keep things conc
ealed must be corrupt or depraved, otherwise, they wouldn't mind if it was common knowledge.
That was the bottom line—the mentality that those who kept secrets must have something to hide. And if you were perceived as having something to hide, then someone was going to dig for it. Open it all up for the world to see and suddenly the mystique was gone. Inevitably, it lost its appeal and its potential to be scandalous. Then the power for exploitation was erased.
Maybe she should use Desi as a sounding board for the idea when she got home. Or possibly Micah, although she didn't think he'd be receptive to the concept at this particular moment. Best let the current commotion die down somewhat before she broached it with him.
Of course, they'd need someone trustworthy to write the article. Preferably somebody familiar with the lifestyle, ideally an active member…and that's where they might run into a brick wall. She'd bet her annual income that the club didn't allow membership to anyone known or uncovered as a reporter, whether that person was genuinely interested in the lifestyle or not.
Charlotte idly wondered how she had managed to jump that particular hurdle. Of course, she wrote a travel blog and an ongoing series of commissioned travel advice books, but she was still well known for her whistle-blowing, 'lay it bare' style. And she'd been known to write the odd exposé, if she felt strongly enough about the cause.
Right now, however, what she needed to worry about was getting Laurel home and settled.
Jake huffed out a breath and wondered just how the shit had managed to hit the fan so quickly after Joel and Desi's departure.
To be fair, the situation with a reporter trying to gain access to the club could hardly be attributed to them being away. That could have happened anytime and was just one of those things they had to be vigilant about.
Jake knew better than anybody how the lure of a big, juicy, lucrative story drew the critters out of the woodwork and had them sniffing about for their next big pay check, the glory of breaking scandal and making a name for oneself.
