I didn’t tell Laura or Mom that I knew the fucker she’d been sexing up at Louie’s. He was a lowdown street scrote known as Bobby Z, whom I’d treated five times at the local jail for various ass-whippings he’d taken while being arrested. I was sure he didn’t recognize me. They memorized cops, these scrotes, but had no memory of paramedics, and I didn’t mind the anonymity. But Laura was naive, I knew. No, I corrected myself, she was sheltered and had forgotten the dangers of her former life. She might never want to speak with me again, and I could accept that, but Bobby Z. was the prime suspect in the rapes of several young women I’d run to the hospital post-rape. He’d escaped arrest in those cases. Witness intimidation works.
You know, even in the worst horrors I was forced to see, the rape cases were the worst of them. To be honest, those haunted eyes will plague my nightmares until the hour of my death, amen and again. Physical wounds heal. Spiritual? Not so much in my experience.
Even with Laura hating my ass, guts, liver, and maybe even my synovials and even lymph nodes and toenails, I couldn’t bear the idea of her waking up, beaten to a pulp, and raped by Bobby Z., no matter the point Laura was trying to prove to me. Goddamn, she hates my ass, so when do I stop being her protector?
On the drive home, my mom demanded, “Tell me all about the blonde beauty.”
“She’s not what’s important,” I returned, even admitting to myself the demurral. “We flirted a bit, but that didn’t pan out. What matters is the guy she was with. He’s known as Bobby Z., and he’s bad news, a pimp and serial rapist who keeps getting away with it. I didn’t want Laura tangled up with that asshole. Christ knows I ran enough of his victims.”
Mom was silent a long moment as she piloted her car to my house, and parked behind my father’s truck. “Keith, do you think I’m fucking stupid?” she asked as she parked. “You were being the alpha male, and that means you have feelings for her. To be fair, you have good taste. She’s hard to forget.”
“I just didn’t want her in over her head. And she was in way over her head, Bobby being Bobby.”
“Sure,” Mom said, but let it drop.
Mom left the next morning after breakfast, and I pondered taking the boat out and drowning a few worms when my doorbell rang. I opened the door, and lo and behold, there was Laura, looking furious, a look with which I’d grown mighty familiar. “Who the hell do you think you are?” she demanded.
“I think I are the man who saved your bacon last night,” I said. “That guy you used … yes, I said ‘used’ … to bait me last night is known on the streets as Bobby Z. Remember that girl eight or nine months back I brought to you, raped and beaten to a pulp?”
She nodded.
“That was his handiwork. Nobody has the guts to testify against him. I get it, Laura. You don’t like me. Maybe you even hate my ass, and more’s the pity. But I protected you anyway.” I let my annoyance slip its leash. “Goddammit, junior high is a long way behind us, so please stop playing junior high games. Can you just leave now and save the inevitable argument?”
“No,” she said. “May I come in, Mr. Kiddo Gentleman?”
“Jesus,” I groaned, rolling my eyes, but I stepped back and let her inside.
“Keith, one of us has to bend a stiff neck, and on balance, it should be me,” she said. “I baited you last night, I was drunk enough to do it and sober enough to remember it. Both are equally regrettable. I don’t know what it is, but around you my wiring scrambles. You appeal to me at primal levels, Keith. I get around you and my belly rolls, and then I get scared and the armor goes up, and no wonder you look at me with suspicion. God, I’m like a lunatic around you.”
“I see,” I said, then stood as I made my decision. “Come with me, please.”
“I didn’t come here for you to throw me on the bed and fuck me,” she protested, then looked nonplussed. “Shit, I did it again.”
“You did,” I agreed. “You really do need a good hard spanking to warm you up or keep that armor down. Come with me, please.”
She stood, looking uncertainly at me, and I led her through the kitchen and out the back door, snagging a Gatorade from the fridge on the way, and walked with her to the dungeon. “Before this gets too deep for you, I want you to step inside and look around. You want to know me, consider this building a warning,” I told her, and unlocked the door, then cracked open my Gatorade and drank a third of the quart in a few long swallows.
Laura shrugged, and entered my dungeon. I heard her gasp as she shut the door behind her. A moment later, she exited, wide-eyed and flushed of face. “Holy shit, you don’t bluff,” she said, barely above a whisper.
“No, I don’t,” I said, deflated.
“I need time to think,” she said. “This … I need time, Keith.” She walked through the gate and out to her car, and drove off.
I was disappointed, but more or less expected this reaction. At least I put it on the table before we grew close and one of us got hurt. One way or another, she needed to know this about me. I’m too old to turn from what I am, or to deny what I am, or set it aside. If she couldn’t accept what my needs were, it was better this shit ended now, before either or both of us wound up heartbroken.
The BDSM that dungeon represented was a need, a requirement, not a simple want, kink, or desire. By this point, I was too old to deny or deflect it. Laura could take it or leave me, and my needs, if she wanted. Evidently, she’d chosen to leave it, and so be it. It was regrettable she bailed, but better this way than going with doomed pretense that she was submissive or that I could turn vanilla.
I changed clothes, hitched my boat to the truck, and drove off to the lake in hopes of catching a few fish, but more just for peace and solitude. I didn’t admit I felt a bit heartbroken, reminding myself hollowly that I didn’t like her. But I knew I was lying to myself.
CHAPTER 15
The man had a dungeon! Not a spare bedroom with a cheap assed pegboard holding his toys. No! He had a huge ass, garage-sized dungeon. There’d been a pegboard, an intricate, highly organized display of more implements than I cared to admit an interest in. One in particular caught my eye. Coiled round and round, a bullwhip occupied its own special place on that wall. I’d seen the dummy too, and the precision of the strikes which said he practiced often enough to be a pro. He also had a cage.
Holy hellfire, how had I not known? This changed everything.
I’d come to his home to apologize. I came because I’d baited him, and he’d basically schooled me, swiped my wine, and sent me home. It had been really hot, which is why I’d swallowed my pride and knocked on his door. I thought I could give my apologies and maybe we’d talk it out over dinner. Not in my wildest imagination had I expected that conversation to end in him showing me to his dungeon. Keith was one kinky bastard, which had me salivating the whole drive home.
Even in that he displayed his arrogance. It hadn’t been an ‘I accept your apology,’ kind of event. Nope. He’d basically said ‘if you want this you’ll have to accept pain with your pleasure.’
Well, a fully stocked dungeon, spanking bench, Saint Andrew’s Cross, cage, and all the rest, meant this man was interested in a whole hell of a lot more than a slice of pain with his pleasure. Which left me with one hell of a decision to make.
I sped home, running from him yet again. That seemed to be our thing. We came together, then flew apart. We were explosive in that way. But something kept pulling me back to him though, or rather ‘Him.’ A capital letter meant the world to me. I ran from the possibility he presented, knowing full well where I would wind up.
First, before I accepted that need, I had to wrap my head around the fact that asshole had a fully equipped dungeon. He hadn’t been the least bit shy about sharing it either. My problem? I didn’t want to be a one-spank-and-fuck kind of girl.
That garage out back. It lived in my fantasies. I wondered if I’d lost my mind, but maybe, at long last, I’d found exactly what I’d been looking for. Not just what, but maybe who. Ma
ybe I’d found...Him?
Shaking my hands, I tried to loosen up. That man wound me so damn tight. Fortunately, I had the perfect solution to help me Zen out. Unbuttoning my blouse, I headed to the back of the house, down the stairs to the basement, and stopped at the door. Smooth polished floors ran up against a wall of mirrors. There was no furniture down here, except for a single folding chair. A flick of a switch lowered the lights. Another switch activated the spotlight over the brass stripper pole which occupied the center of the room. A quick flip through my playlist and I made a choice. Something deep, rhythmic, and pounding.
I stood there for a moment, closing my eyes, and let the powerful thumping of the music flow through me. A tremor of excitement skated across my nerves. I pole danced at home to keep myself fit. My love of music and dance kept my demons at bay. The pole gave me something else as well, a guilty pleasure where I could sink into another place and allow my fantasies to fly free. When I danced, I always danced as the slave to my nameless master.
Now? After seeing Keith’s dungeon? That faceless man in my dreams was no longer a nameless stranger. Today, I danced for Keith, even if he didn’t know it. As the music thumped and settled into my soul, the pace of my breaths matched the beat. I pulled off my blouse and unfastened my jeans, shimmying out of them nice and slow. I wasn’t here to do a striptease. I’d come to dance, but I would do it in nothing more than a thong.
Standing with the pole at my back, I lifted my arms overhead. They floated upward, moving with a sensual promise, curving and twisting as I reached behind me to grip the pole. I stroked it, gliding my hand up and down, much like I would fist a cock. Then I pressed my shoulders back as my hips began to sway. I engaged my abdominal muscles and imagined Keith’s eyes pinned to the expanse of my nearly naked body.
I rolled my hips slowly, imagining him staring at me. Sweet hell, but that thought turned me on. For now, I controlled the dance, fantasizing about what might happen in that garage turned dungeon. My mind conjured images of him stripping me, commanding me, forcing me to endure his pain. An expert it seemed in all things kink, where did his tastes fall? Did he like to spice up his life with a little kinky play? A slap and a tickle? Or did he delve deeper, exploring the limits of power exchange?
Could he sense my need. If he hadn’t yet, it would only be a matter of time. That man had an uncanny knack of seeing right through me.
I gripped the pole hard, and turned to face it. I loved the sensual dance around the pole. Stepping high, I focused all my attention on being long, lean, and sinuous as I teased my imaginary Dom. I wanted to affect him deeply, show him my body, and what I could do with it. I wanted him to not just desire me, but need me on a soul-deep level.
A rippling shiver overtook me and I followed its flow. My body undulated against the pole as I imagined his shoulders lifting with a sharp intake of air. I wish I could remember that lap dance I’d given him so many years ago. I had to have made an impression. He’d tossed a hundred dollars on my table last night. That had to have been a message. Or maybe he was just being a jerk? With Keith, I never knew what was going on in that noggin of his.
The beat of the song intensified and I wrapped my leg around the pole. I loved this part. The freedom of spinning round and round. I could do a lot with the pole, and I did that now, climbing it all the way to the ceiling and then dropping with a heart-stopping plunge, until my nose nearly brushed the floor.
Then I let go and allowed my body’s natural rhythms to take over. I forgot about Keith, his dungeon, or the unapologetic way he assumed I would let him spank my ass. But wasn’t that what I wanted?
Maybe, but I didn’t want to surrender without a fight. My only problem was I didn’t think he’d be a man who would take what wasn’t freely given. I spun around the pole, my thoughts in a frightening spin. If I wanted this, I would have to ask.
Knowing Keith, he’d make me beg.
Long after exhaustion took me to the edge, I continued to dance. I danced for me as much as for him, my thoughts settling into what I needed to do. When I could barely lift my leg to wrap around the pole, I called it quits and headed upstairs.
My skin glistened with a sheen of my perspiration. A shower would calm me down, and maybe slake the throb between my legs.
It did neither. I climbed out of that shower more spun up than I’d been going in. Which left me with one choice.
I could have spent an hour getting dressed, until I decided it didn’t matter. If I got my way, my clothes wouldn’t stay on for long. I did slip on a lacy black thong and a push-up bra to lift the girls. With keys in hand, I drove back to Keith’s house.
The sun had crested the horizon long ago. The bright pinks and darker oranges of a beautiful sunset had merged into purples and the beginnings of midnight black. I pulled up along the curb outside his home, biting my lower lip with indecision.
Then I grabbed a sticky note from the glove box of my car, and scratched a quick note.
The last time I’d played Ding-Dong-ditch, I must have been seven. I approached his front door with a much lighter step than I thought possible. If we were headed down the path I thought, I intended to have a little bit of fun. After I pressed my note to the door, I hightailed it around back, praying he didn’t catch me in the act. He’d know soon enough where I’d gone.
Outside the door of his dungeon, I took my place. There I waited while he read my note.
K,
“I see your warning and raise you one of my own. I’m not afraid.”
Laura
CHAPTER 16
The doorbell rang and I wondered who it was. I opened the door but nobody was there. I almost didn’t see the sticky-note, which fell to the porch. I picked it up, read it, and smirked, impressed that any physician’s handwriting was even decipherable, then looked at the clock on my phone, and set an alarm for 20 minutes, wondering if she’d lose her nerve or come beating on the door to cuss me out, or even barge in through the kitchen. Time is relative, and if I had to bet, she was a nervous wreck out there, in the dark, fretting and fidgeting. As a physician, she was accustomed to instant gratification, so denying that to her seemed just the thing to do, didn’t it? I smirked at the thoughts and sat to watch TV, glad I was home and hadn’t checked into the Lakeview Motel, since I planned on fishing more the next day, and my catch could’ve stayed on ice. But I came home, filleted my catch, put it in the freezer, and showered. It amused me that if she’d gotten here 45 minutes earlier, I’d have seen her dashing into my back yard.
I wondered fleetingly if we were simply meant to be, but then dismissed the thought as New Age horseshit, and watched TV while the back of my mind pondered Laura. I knew she was scared and blustering. After all, I was still mostly an unknown to her, and it was a tell that she said she was unafraid. Besides, she was, however irrational around me, a highly intelligent woman, perhaps even brilliant, and I didn’t doubt her all-around sanity. My timer went off in the middle of a rerun of Big Bang Theory that I’d seen a dozen times already. Don’t judge. The show is funny, dammit.
I wandered outside, wearing shorts and sandals, and nothing else, and found her beside the door. That wasn’t a surprise. That she was on her knees was a surprise. That she was in a foul mood was expected.
“Jesus, you took long enough to build the balls to come out here,” she said. “And what is that horrible stink back here?”
“Fish guts,” I snickered. “I garden, and bury them out here. I went fishing after you ran away earlier today and caught a few. Now, my dear, I am going to suggest that you curb your tongue before I simply go back inside and spend my evening watching TV. I’m not in the mood for you to try to top me from the bottom out here, sweetheart. Your choice.”
“I’m sorry about the attitude. I’m a nervous wreck right now,” she said, then added, “I used to love fishing with my dad.“
Well, there were problems with that,” I said. “First, I wanted to be alone after your latest rejection. Second, I didn’t know you like
to fish. Third, I don’t even have your phone number, and fourth, I’ve no clue where you live.”
“First, I’m sorry,” she told me. “You know that old saying about being careful what you wish for, lest your wish come true? That was me. All my desires and cravings are on the other side of this door and I’ve been scared shitless of letting those walls down. Second, now you know. Third, I don’t have your number either and we need to rectify that. Fourth, I’m on Dahlia Avenue in the Rolling Meadows subdivision, about three miles from here. Fifth, if you don’t take me in there and spank me silly right now I’m going to lose my nerve. The ball, as they say, is in your court.”
In spite of it all, I liked her sass. She had moxie, and that impressed me. I unlocked the dungeon, then bowed and made a grand sweeping gesture. “Step inside,” I said. Not surprising me, but utterly shocking me, she did so on all fours, crawling toward her fate.
“How far do I have your consent to go?” I asked her.
“Right now, I’d be happy if you beat me like that woman in 12 Years a Slave,” she said. “God, I’ve wanted this since I peddled my ass at Skirtless. But … I’ve done a lot of soul-searching, Sir … uh … Keith … shit, I don’t even know what to call you right about now. I have problems trusting people, maybe especially men. And that’s not fair to either of us, before you go off calling me Captain Obvious. Maybe I need to jump from the plane, and trust my parachute was packed well.”
“Tellya what,” I said after digesting her statement. “I’ll put you on the St. Andrew … that’s the X-shaped cross … and I’ll lash you with my whip until one of us decides you’ve had enough.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, shocking me again. Until tonight, I didn’t know she knew the word Sir, much less how to use it, to say nothing of the circumstances. “But … will you put me on that bench first and spank me like you threatened?”
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