Enthrall Her

by Vanessa Fewings

  The mark of a submissive.

  A lump lodged in my throat and tears stung my eyes when I saw Richard wrapping his arms around her in a hug.

  No, please God, no.

  Tectonic plates shifted beneath my feet, causing my balance to fail, and I reached out and gripped the tree. From my discreet vantage point, I watched Richard guide the woman into the house. From the way they shared a private joke, they knew each other well. The way she smiled at him spoke volumes. Richard shared a few words with the man who answered the door and they were in.

  Having no memory of getting back in the car, I merely sat for a few seconds, trying to still my beating heart that was doing its best to shatter my rib cage.

  My life was a lie.

  Leo was focused on his phone. “Ms. Lauren, was he pleased?”

  “I missed him,” I said weakly. “He’d already gone in by the time I got there.”

  I didn’t want him to know what I’d witnessed and certainly didn’t want him to see me cry. My fingers trembled, loosening the top button of my blouse.

  “Can you put the air on,” I said.

  The speed with which Leo drove us away from there shot me back in my seat. Something told me he’d deliver me to Dr. Laura right on time. Caressing my chest, I wondered if this ache in my heart would ever go away. Richard had questioned my ability to trust, all the while betraying it.

  It’s not what you think.

  It is. You know it is.

  The drive to Beverly Hills was a blur.

  With a wave, I headed on into Cedars Sinai east wing and watched Leo drive away. With him out of sight, I made my way back out onto the street and walked briskly along San Vincente.

  Replaying all my interactions with Richard over the last few weeks, I tried to see what I’d missed. My mind circled, trying to fathom why Richard had lied to me. Thoughts of unworthiness rattled my brain. I was no match for the waif-like beauty who he’d escorted into that house.

  Peering through Stella McCartney’s shop window, I tried to focus on the dresses and not the searing pain in my chest. Mannequins were lined up and all of them wore expensive outfits. The kind I’d never worn until I’d met Richard. My relationship had never been about money, or this decadent lifestyle that I’d never pursued. My love for him had come from a pure place, the last remnants of goodness within me.

  And now that too was shattered to smithereens.

  I kept walking, trying to think.

  Trying not to think.

  Trying to remember that I was a survivor. How could I find any of this surprising? Abandonment was my calling card and this pattern really proved that the blame lay squarely on my shoulders.

  The glass front signage of Beverly Hill’s Ink reflected this was an upscale tattoo parlor. I headed on in and viewed the wall art. There really was an endless display of choices.

  I was met by a short, pretty brunette, twenty-ish, covered in tattoos and with the face piercings of someone who didn’t give a fuck. I liked her. Her name was Tammy. She made some joke about mine and said she’d read a dystopian novel with my namesake. She liked to read and wanted to know if I did too.

  She soon sensed I was in no mood for conversation or any of the usual social pleasantries. I just wanted a fucking tattoo. I didn’t feel like talking.

  I wanted pain.

  Within minutes of choosing my design, I’d settled in a leather seat and Tammy took her place next to me, pulling her tray of instruments close.

  I’d chosen the smallest hummingbird. I liked the idea of being able to fly away and disappear. Strange how the needle pricks helped take my mind off the agony wedged in my heart.

  Tammy focused in on the design, punishing me with small stings, and gradually the tiny drawing of a delicate bird in flight took shape. Those greens and blues brought the small, delicate creature alive on my ankle. It was going to be beautiful.

  She worked away quietly, as though recognizing her own pain in me. She even shared her thoughts on how being marked would give me the strength I needed right now.

  She really did get it.

  All air was sucked from the room—

  Cameron stood a few feet away.

  I wondered how long he’d been there.

  Tammy swapped a wary glance with me and whispered, “Boyfriend?”

  “No,” I said. “My boss.”

  She frowned and did a double take at Cameron.

  He burned a look through me as he closed in on us. “Are you done?” he asked Tammy.

  “I am now.” She finished taping a dressing to my ankle. “Leave it on for at least two hours.”

  “Mia, time to go.” Cameron reached into his wallet. “This should take care of it.” He handed Tammy his credit card. “You sterilize your needles?”

  “Of course,” snapped Tammy. “That will put you back a C note.” She flipped over his card, seemingly unsure. “What is this?”

  “American Express,” said Cameron. “Run it, please.”

  She left the room.

  “Where’s Richard?” asked Cameron.

  “He went out for the night.” I studied his face, hoping to read more. Read the truth.

  “That’s right,” he said. “He had an appointment.”

  With a ho, I mused, sneaking a peek at my tattoo.

  “I’ll meet you outside.” Cameron turned and left.

  I joined Tammy at the reception desk and thanked her for her fine work, along with apologizing for my friend’s interruption. She handed me back Cameron’s card.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I love it.”

  “He’s a little scary,” she said. “Are you safe to go with him?”

  “Yes, he’s actually very nice when you get to know him.”

  “If you say so.”

  I hurried to join Cameron outside and returned his card. He tucked it back into his wallet and led me towards his parked BMW.

  “I’ll pay you back,” I said.

  Cameron opened the passenger door and gestured for me to get in. He made his way around to the driver’s seat and climbed in.

  I pulled my seatbelt on. “I’ll tell Richard.”

  Cameron punched a dial on the front panel and then raised a finger to silence me. “Hey Brian,” he said. “I’m running late. I’ll be there in about half an hour.” He went on to say something about looking forward to seeing Brian’s new drawings.

  I kicked off my shoes and rested my feet on the dashboard. My pink toes would perfectly match my hummingbird. I couldn’t wait to take off my dressing and reveal Tammy’s masterpiece. It really was pretty and delicate and everything I could have asked for in a tattoo. I hated it being covered up.

  Cameron ended his call.

  He ran his thumb over his key fob, stamped with the initials C R C. “You never made it to your appointment with Dr. Raul?”

  “No.” I glance at the backseat.

  There was a lone Journal of Clinical Psychiatry and a spare sweater. Other than that there were no other clues to this man. “What does the R stand for?” I pointed to his key ring.

  “Raife.” He placed his key in the ignition, turned it, and pulled the car away from the curb.

  “What kind of name is Raife?”

  “I was named after my grandfather.” He glanced over at me. “What happened with your appointment?”

  “Something came up.”

  “What came up?”

  “Did Dr. Raul call you?”

  “Yes.”

  I stared out of the window. None of this was any of his business. Yes, he was my boss, but really this kind of thing was personal. “So you called Leo and asked him to come find me?”

  “Leo dropped you off at Dr. Raul’s office. You can imagine my concern when Laura told me you weren’t at your appointment.”

  “Is nothing private?”

  “You gave your permission for me to consult on your case, Mia.” He tilted his head. “So nothing is private.”

  “So what’s your conclusion Dr. Cole?�
� I scowled at him. “I’d love to know your grand deduction.”

  “You don’t talk during a session. It’s hard to deduce from silence.”

  “People get over shit,” I said. “They move on.”

  All that crap was lodged somewhere inside and talking about it was essentially stirring monstrous emotions from slumber.

  You can all fuck off.

  I let out a frustrated sigh. “Leo followed me to the tattoo parlor? Then he called you?”

  “Leo’s job is to get you to your destination safely,” said Cameron.

  “He’s not in trouble, is he?”

  “No.”

  Seriously, I might be dating his best friend, but neither of them owned me. This was my body and I could do what I wanted to it. They had no right to dictate what I did or when.

  I looked over at him. “I know what you think of me.”

  “Mind reading?” said Cameron. “We have a new skill to add to your resume.”

  Verbally sparing with him was ill advised yet I found myself wanting to push his buttons, mainly because I always seemed to have his full attention that way.

  “Anything you tell me is confidential,” he said.

  “Dr. Raul has given me some coping techniques to get over a lot of stuff.”

  “Yet you still refuse to talk during the session?”

  “You obviously talk about me after them.”

  He gave me a sideways glance. “What does your tattoo represent?”

  “Haven’t decided.”

  “Hummingbird’s can fly backwards, did you know that?” On my confused glance, he added, “I saw the drawing. It may be a conduit to your thoughts.”

  “How?”

  “Your subconscious is talking to us.”

  “It’s just a tattoo.”

  “An indelible mark that symbolizes a significant meaning to your heart. An immortalized whisper from your soul. It’s not just a tattoo, Mia.”

  Even his words were hypnotic.

  We drove in silence with Cameron navigating the heavy traffic with ease, taking side streets to avoid the drudgery of the commute. Up Beverly Glen we drove, and it was lovely to peer out at the passing scenery, a mishmash of houses, all of them different, some crowned with palm trees and lush shrubbery. We arched the highest peak of Mulholland Drive. Off in the distance, I saw those funny looking homes built upon the hill with a quarter of their structure balanced on stilts.

  “What about earthquakes?” I said, pointing. “Don’t those people freak out?”

  “They must pass building codes,” said Cameron, as he pulled the car onto a dimly lit gravel pathway. “You’d never catch me in one though.”

  He killed the engine.

  I peered into the darkness of the private driveway. “Why are we stopping here?”

  “I have to drop off an item.”

  “Who lives here?”

  “One of my patients.” He pointed up the pathway.

  “A client of Enthrall?”

  “No, my private practice.” He shifted in his seat to face me and leaned his chin on his hand. “You’re a perfect match for Richard. You’re as spontaneous as each other.”

  “I think that too.”

  “How are things between you?”

  “Good.”

  “I sense doubt?” he said.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.”

  I studied Cameron’s face. “You think Richard might be seeing someone else?”

  He blinked at me. “If Richard wants to date another woman he ends the relationship he’s in. What made you ask that?”

  That grungy feeling returned.

  “He would never have asked you to move in with him if he wasn’t serious about you,” he said. “What made you bring that up?”

  I gave a shrug.

  “I promise you can trust him.”

  My shoulders lowered and the tension they’d been carrying lightened a little. Still, believing in his words was a lure of the naive. “How do you think he’ll react when he sees this?” I gestured to my ankle.

  “He’ll be ecstatic.”

  “He’ll hate it, won’t he?”

  “I don’t think he’ll hate it, no. Perhaps talking with him first would have been wise.”

  “Well, I like it.”

  “Good for you,” he said. “What inspired you to get a hummingbird?”

  I chewed my lip. “It made me feel good about myself.”

  “Dr. Raul shared an interesting finding with me.”

  “Oh?”

  “She believes you’re holding back on sharing a significant event that happened before your mother died.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like what?” he whispered.

  “That morning?”

  “Yes,” he said softly. “That morning.”

  Pressing my hands to my mouth, I weighed up what was safe to share. Nothing came to mind.

  “What happened, Mia?”

  I swallowed hard, refusing to make eye contact with him.

  “I want to help,” he said.

  “I’m over it.”

  He arched a brow. “How would you like the opportunity to ask me any question? I’m always poking around your noggin. It only seems fair.”

  “What kind of question?”

  “The kind that will let you in.”

  “I can ask you anything?”

  “Yes.”

  A jolt of excitement slithered up my spine.

  “But first, answer me this.” He seemed to weigh his words carefully. “Who hurt you? Was it your mom?”

  “You’re not my psychiatrist.” I shook my head. “My mom took good care of me. She was there when my dad left. She made sure I got to school on time and she helped me with my homework and she may not have been perfect but she was a good person. She loved me.”

  Again that shocking silence.

  “Now you get to ask me a question,” he said calmly.

  “Why are you into pain?”

  “Well—”

  “And why do you get turned on by inflicting pain on others?” I added fiercely.

  The silence made me regret the question. Unlike Richard, Cameron didn’t blare music from the speakers to suppress the awkwardness.

  “I’m a sexual sadist,” he said.

  The fine hairs pricked on my forearms.

  “It’s the way I’m made.”

  “Do you want to change?”

  “Never,” he said. “You do realize you’ve asked more than one question? Our agreement was one each.”

  “You’re very controlling.”

  “Without a doubt. There are times in my therapeutic endeavors that control is extremely useful.”

  “How?”

  “Trade secret.” Cameron’s focus drifted to my ankle.

  “A masochist and a sadist are a great fit then.” I laughed. “As long as they don’t kill each other in the process. Death by fucking.”

  “You’re extra feisty tonight, Mia. What’s brought this on?”

  “It’s rare for us to be alone. I’m making the most of it.”

  “You have a rude mouth, but a beautiful one nonetheless.”

  “You noticed then?”

  Cameron leaned towards me and my heart missed a beat. He reached into the glove compartment and removed a white paper bag. A prescription label stuck to the front. He put it on his lap and drove the rest of the way up the pathway. There, appearing before us, was a standalone townhouse with an east coast styled porch and a swing with a rose patterned pillow seat.

  “What’s that?” I gestured to the bag.

  “Wait here.” Cameron turned off the engine. He flung open his door and strolled on up towards the house.

  After knocking several times, he waited. A twenty-something man wearing pajamas answered. His hair needed a comb. Cameron must have noticed it too because he seemed to mention it. The man raked his hands through his locks, trying to smooth his wayward hair.

  Ca
meron handed over the paper bag and words were exchanged. They stood there for a few more minutes chatting away, the man showing him something in a magazine and Cameron nodding his approval. They talked about it for some time. Cameron seemed to like what he was being shown.

  Within a few minutes, he returned to the car.

  “Was that Brian?” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “That was his prescription?”

  “I like to check in on him.”

  “How often do you do that?”

  “Every week.”

  “Bet that’s expensive.”

  “My practice doesn’t just treat patients who can afford us, Mia.”

  “Pro bono?” I said.

  “Exactly. Brian’s living with his sister. He’s a comic book artist. Very sweet.”

  “That’s what he was showing you?” I said.

  “His latest drawings. He’s extraordinarily talented. Very sensitive, as artists often are.” Cameron navigated the car back down the pathway.

  We drove the way we’d come, down Beverly Glen and gliding around twisty roads while avoiding the cars driving on the other side of the road and coming too fast our way.

  It was hard to take my eyes off this man. His handsome face, the way his eyes flitted toward the rearview mirror, the way he smiled and threw glances my way.

  My cheeks blushed when I recalled what he’d done to me in Richard’s office to help me get my job back. Playing with me in front of Richard to prove I was ready to work at a place like Enthrall. Just the thought of those artful fingers touching me down there made me squirm. Seeing Richard with another woman softened the guilt of fantasizing about Cameron. A forbidden saving grace.

  We drove the rest of the way in that awe inspiring silence.

  Cameron parked outside Richard’s home and he followed me in.

  Sir Winston’s paws padded along the hardwood floors and he skidded around the corner to greet us. If he was disappointed it was Cameron and I and not Richard he didn’t show it. He merely rubbed his body against my leg, probably excited about the snack he knew was coming.

  After giving him a treat and sending him out the back door to take his last pee of the night, I headed back into the kitchen to fill his water bowl.