Rescue Me

by Mia Ford

  “Since when do you fucking listen?” Martin asked. “You’re the one who usually does the talking. Why aren’t you talking? Sounds good ? A meth lab sounds good?”

  “What meth lab?”

  “Exactly,” Martin threw up his hands in exasperation. “What’s going on, Chad? I thought you’d be excited about this? It’s why we’re here.”

  I blew out a long breath and shoved my hands into my pocket. “Nothing’s going on, okay. I’m just tired.”

  “Chad Walters does not get tired,” Martin shot back. He eased his tone and put a hand on my shoulder. “Listen, if you’re getting cold feet, we could just drop this whole thing. Head back to California and forget about New York. But just so you know, you’re not going to build an empire unless we do this. New York is the first step to the world.”

  “I know.” I sighed and shook my head. “It’s fine, really. I think it’s the jet lag. My brain’s just not firing on all cylinders today. Having a hard time focusing on anything.”

  Anything other than Zoe Maxwell. Everywhere I looked, I saw her face and gorgeous body. On the treadmill, in the sauna, lying on the weight bench, arching her back, tightening her legs, grunting as she pushed me up and down, up and down...

  All the time smiling at me like there was no one else in the place besides me and her. A part of me wanted to ring her up and have her come see the new space, but I knew that was a stupid idea. I had to deal with Martin first. I had to fucking focus.

  I looked at my watch, then buried my hands back into my pockets. I was acting like a high school jock waiting for the time to pick up his girl for the prom. I clenched my teeth, hating the way I was feeling about all this. That’s what Zoe did to me, dammit. She made me lose control.

  I hadn’t seen her for years, too long to even remember, and the minute she stepped back into my life, I was thrown off my game.

  Sure, I’ve thought about her.

  A lot.

  But it was always just a memory of something that could have been great, but had ended. I didn’t expect to see ever her again, let alone feel like this. I was Chad fucking Walters. I didn’t pine away over a fucking girl…

  “Is it that girl?” Martin asked. “That writer chick. Joey something?”

  “Zoe,” I corrected. “Zoe Maxwell.”

  “Yeah, the one who writes the dirty books,” Martin said, eyebrows flexing. “You guys dated in college?”

  “Something like that,” I said.

  “So, what happened?”

  I frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you’ve had more women in your life than you could count,” Martin said with a knowing smile. “What’s so special about this one? Was she your first or something? Was she the one who popped Chad Walters’ cherry.”

  “That’s none of your business.” I looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Let’s try to keep this semi-professional, shall we?”

  “Wow, those are words I never thought I’d never hear coming out of your mouth,” Martin said in a huff. “I’m going upstairs to check out the office space while you stand here and mope.”

  “I’m not moping,” I called after him.

  “Well, you’re not acting like Chad Walters,” Martin said. “That’s pretty much the same thing.”

  I watched him take the stairs two by two and turned back to look at the afternoon crowd passing by out front. A few of the women glanced in and did double-takes, smiling at me, but I didn’t smile back. Martin was right: this was so unlike me, and I fucking hated it. I turned back to the studio and made my way deeper inside, standing in the area where Martin had suggested setting up the Jacuzzi.

  I pictured the whole thing. The steam filling up the room, the walls lined with pegs, the bubbling sound of the water. My mind started conjuring Zoe again, sitting in the Jacuzzi, head back, eyes closed.

  Get in here, rock star, she said with a wanting smile .

  Then I realized it wasn’t Zoe in my mind…

  It was someone else.

  The woman who helped me get over Zoe.

  The woman who taught me to never lose control again.

  She was a tall brunette with breasts the size of melons barely hidden under the water, a seductive smile on her face. She was staring at me, waiting for me to climb in. I had just closed the place and locked the door. I heard a noise in the jacuzzi room. I opened the door and there she was. Naked. Smiling. Crooking her finger at me.

  Jacky. Her name was Jacky.

  I started to ask her what the hell she was doing, soaking in the tub without her clothes on. The health department would have shut me down if they had found her there. Then again, maybe they would have just let her play… Before I could say anything, she reached into the water and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

  Let’s make this a little interesting , she said, her pink tongue rimming her lips, her eyes dreamy in the steamy room .

  It was a year after Zoe had dumped me, left me behind with a shattered heart. I had slept with maybe a dozen women before I met Jacky, all of them mirror images of Zoe, none of them satisfying me in the least bit. It was never good enough, never exciting enough, and I always felt worse after it than before it.

  Jacky had changed that, though. Not entirely, but enough to keep me going. She had been one of my first clients, and one of the richest. Her husband was some tech millionaire who cared more about software than his wife, which I couldn’t understand. Jacky was a bomb, a fucking trophy wife of the highest magnitude. She had strutted into my studio smelling like money and pussy, demanding special treatment.

  I gave her just that.

  And a little more.

  Then a lot more.

  Having money came with control, and she had a lot of it to spare. What she was looking for was the exact opposite of control. She wanted someone who made her feel dominated, which her pussy of a husband couldn’t do. Jacky was an S&M submissive. And she offered to teach me how to be the dominant male in her life, which I was quick to agree to. Control. She taught me about control. It was what I needed after Zoe had broken my heart.

  The sex was good, then it was fucking great. The first time she pulled out the handcuffs, I was a little taken back, but hey, what could I say? I was never going to say no to large breasts and a shaved pussy made of gold. Especially when she wanted me to do things to her I had never done to anyone before.

  Jacky changed my life, and made me forget about Zoe. The screams of pleasure, those huge breasts bouncing in my face. It was exhilarating. The cuffs gave way to clamps, and the clamps to whips and leather and blindfolds and ball gags and so much more. I felt like a fucking titan, with Jacky as my personal sex toy.

  She let me do anything and everything, and then some.

  Imagine having that kind of power.

  It was as addictive as crack.

  That was until her husband found out, and she suddenly disappeared from my life. I was depressed again, hurt, angry, and I felt like I was losing control all over again. Martin made it all go away by forcing me to focus on work and building the business, but I was left with a sudden emptiness that quickly brought Zoe back into the forefront of my mind. From then on, the cuffs and clamps were the only way I could get off. The only way I really had control. Without them, I was as impotent as a fucking eunuch.

  * * *

  “Are you going to just stand there forever staring into the corner of the room?” I turned and looked at Martin as he made his way down the stairs to stand beside me. “Tell me you’re not still thinking about Zoe Maxwell.”

  “I was thinking that you were right,” I said, forcing a smile, summoning Chad Walters back from the darkness. I held out my hands and waved them through the air as if I were performing a magic trick. “This would make a great area for a jacuzzi.”

  Martin cut me a sideways glance. “So…”

  “So, let’s sign the lease and get this motherfucker open,” I said.

  “ Body by Chad New York City, baby!” Martin said, slapp
ing me on the back. “Soon, my friend, you’ll be the biggest name in town.”

  “I’m already the biggest name in town.” I shot him a cocky smile, then looked at my watch again and headed for the door. I needed to call Zoe, but didn’t mention that to him.

  “Hey, where are you going?” he asked. “We need to celebrate.”

  “Raincheck it,” I said, reaching for the door. I had my phone in my hand. I waved it at him. “There is a certain blonde TV host who is waiting to have her body worked over by Chad. I’ll call you later.”

  Before he could say a word, I ducked out and headed up the sidewalk with the phone at my ear.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: Zoe

  I didn’t really expect the call. Not really. Knowing Chad, I expected him to blow me off and forget about the whole thing entirely. After the shower, I couldn’t help but do some research on him, and my God, was he big. Body by Chad was more than just a successful fitness studio, it was a serious business and a huge brand. It was a surprise that he had even taken the time to show up in New York for the interview at all.

  There were a dozen big names associated with Chad. I had never seen so many celebrities endorse a single business like this. He was a star amongst stars, and everyone loved him. At one point, I even wondered why he had bothered to do the interview in the first place. He clearly didn’t need it. His success made mine look like I had won the Spelling Bee at school.

  So, I didn’t expect him to call. We had too much history, too many memories. I had, after all, dumped him and moved on, and it was hard to believe that someone who had grown this successful would bother with the woman who had left him behind.

  But he did call.

  The ringing of my cellphone startled me at first, and I hesitated when I saw his number. I was still trying to wrap my head around what I had read about him, and the intense orgasm in the shower. I tried to compose myself, paranoid that he might actually know about the shower or that I was researching him.

  Get a grip. Show some balls. Dinner was his idea, after all.

  Then a second thought hit me. What if this was just a ploy to get back at me?

  Stop it. Answer the damn call.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Zoe, it’s me,” Chad’s voice was like the whisper of a ghost in my ear, and I felt myself smiling. “Thought you wouldn’t answer.”

  “Why wouldn’t I answer?”

  “Just thought –” His voice trailed off, then came back a lot more confident. “You know, big shot author and all that, probably had some plans to celebrate today’s show.”

  “I promised you dinner,” I replied. Yeah, because I’ve always been great with the promises.

  Chad laughed on the other end. “Yes, you did,” he said. “Okay, so eight? Sound good?”

  “Nine,” I said.

  Chad laughed. “Okay, nine it is.”

  My hands shook as I hung up and put the phone down on the table. I tried to control the beating in my chest. What the hell was I doing? Eight was fine. Why did I insist on nine? I sighed and threw my head back, running my fingers through my hair and shaking the strands about. I got up and walked over to the couch, noting the time on the wall. I had at least three hours to kill.

  Damn it, Zoe, eight was fine.

  But a part of me knew that it wasn’t.

  Eight was definitely not fine.

  I knew Chad, and a lot of men like him. The controlling type. The type that had to have their way. And for some stupid reason I was constantly drawn to them. Chad, Mark, and a bunch of others who never lasted more than a few weeks. They all wanted the same thing; control. And I was willing to give it to them.

  Making sure Chad picked me up at nine instead of eight was like a silent shot at not letting him take control. It felt weird, much different than what I was used to, and I felt a small thrill race through me.

  You’ve grown petty in your old age, haven’t you, Zoe?

  Maybe. But this wasn’t some random first date. This was Chad Walters, owner of Body by Chad , and I needed to be on top of my game. The memory of my orgasm was still fresh I my mind, and if I didn’t get myself together, I’d have the real Chad in my shower by the end of dinner, doing whatever he wanted to me. And letting him do it willingly.

  Would that be so bad?

  The tingling between my legs surprised me, and I quickly pushed the thought away.

  Yes, it would be bad.

  Very bad.

  But in a very good way…

  * * *

  Chad was waiting with a cab out front of my building at nine. When I came out the door he was leaning against the cab, looking like a Calvin Kline model at a photo shoot.

  Dressed to kill in tight jeans, a black polo that showcased the chiseled body beneath, and a black blazer. He looked incredible. It was easy to see why he had such an internet reputation as a bad boy. Chad was always good looking, but now… wow…

  “You look ravishing,” Chad said, taking me in with his eyes as he held open the taxi’s rear door. He took my hand to help me inside. The hem rode a bit over my knees and accentuated my long legs. I could see how his eyes immediately dropped to them before he gave me a hug and kissed me on the cheek. “I feel like I’m underdressed.”

  “You look great,” I said with a smile. “Unless we’re going to get pizza, then we’re both kinda screwed.”

  “Definitely not pizza.” He smiled and held out his hand. “Come, my lady, your chariot awaits.”

  * * *

  We rode in silence, both of us staring straight ahead. I didn’t want to be the first to break the silence, but it was slowly getting awkward. I had to say something, anything, and I turned to look at him.

  The dim lights coming in from the streets dropped shadows across his face, making him look like a Greek God. I felt myself choke on my words, and quickly turned when his eyes shifted to me.

  I looked out the window and tried to ignore the smug smile that appeared on his face.

  Smooth, Zoe, real smooth.

  * * *

  Vittorio’s was packed, but the maître d’ showed us to a romantic table looking out at the indoor garden. The dim lighting and soft Italian music playing in the background only added to the mood. Conversation filled the small restaurant and bar, a mix of whispers and gentle laughter that made me feel like I had just walked into a movie.

  I had been here before, a dinner gathering when Pleasing Him had first been released, but had never found the time to come again. I was surprised that Chad had chosen the restaurant. It wasn’t a place I had expected him to take me to.

  We sat on opposite sides of the table, in awkward silence again, while we scanned the menus and gave the waiter our orders. Chicken Masala for me, spaghetti with meatballs for Chad. The waiter appeared a few minutes later with a bottle of 1951 Penfolds Grange Hermitage. I raised my eyebrows at Chad.

  “I know my wine,” he smiled.

  “You’ve gotten very continental over the years,” I said with a smile.

  “Well, actually, I Googled it,” he said with a grin. He held up his glass and tapped it lightly to mine. “To old times.”

  “To old times,” I said. I sipped the wine and scanned the crowd around us. “This place is beautiful.”

  “It is, isn’t it,” Chad said, following my gaze. “To be honest, I’m clueless when it comes to New York. Martin made the reservations.”

  “Martin?”

  “My manager, Martin Friese,” Chad replied. “More of friend, actually. Wouldn’t be here without him.”

  I frowned at Chad’s show of humility, which I had never seen from him before. It was unlike Chad to give credit to someone else for his successes. It made me wonder what else had changed about him.

  “Must be a great a guy,” I said, wanting to hear more, fishing for the catch.

  “He is,” Chad said with a sincere smile. “He set up the whole entry into New York. I mean, sure, I know there’s a lot in it for him, but sometimes I get the feeling he’s more of a par
tner than a manager.”

  “Worried you might have to share the spoils?”

  Chad laughed, and his eyes pierced mine. I had a feeling he knew I was fishing, and instantly turned my eyes away, concentrating on the wine that tasted like heaven.

  “So, Zoe Maxwell, tell me,” Chad said with a sigh. “What does the world of a bestselling author look like? Mansions? Cars? A place in the Hamptons?”

  “I wish,” I snorted, a little too quickly. “People have the wrong idea about authors, bestsellers or not. We don’t all live like James Patterson or Stephen King. In fact, less than one-percent of authors actually make a living off their work.”

  “You seem to be doing fine,” Chad said, smiling over his glass. That damn smile... It was melting me despite my best efforts to resist. The heat was building in my belly. I was getting moist. I could smell the faint scent of my own juices.

  “I’m doing okay,” I said, trying not to blush.

  He shrugged. “You are not living in a hovel, by any means, at least judging from the outside of the building.”

  I smiled. Was he hinting that he wanted to see the inside of my apartment?

  “Well, I don’t live like you do, I’m sure,” I smiled back, slowly getting comfortable. “I’m sure your place in L.A. would make my little apartment look like a broom closet.”

  He rolled his eyes at me. “Your apartment must be pretty impressive. What floor are you on? Which way does the apartment face?”

  “Why do you ask?” I was being demure. He seemed enamored by it. Maybe he had grown up after all. The juices flowed.

  “Because of the view,” he said nonchalantly. “Bet you have one hell of a view from…”

  “The twelfth floor,” I said, giggling. “I have a lovely view of the building next door.”

  “Remember your old apartment back in the day?” he asked, shaking his head at the memory. “What a shit hole that was.”

  “Yes, I live in a much nicer shit hole now,” I said with a grin.

  Chad laughed, and I found myself laughing along with him. I swirled the wine in my glass, and looked towards the bar where a couple was cozying up over drinks. I felt good, strangely so, and started to fight back the paranoia that something was going to go terribly wrong with the night. I looked back at Chad to find him staring right at me.