by Simone Sinna
Tony’s lobster went down the wrong way. He took a slug of water. “Wouldn’t exactly call it a night club,” he finally said. He winked at her. “Fancy a bit of BDSM, do you?”
* * * *
Sienna made it back by six p.m. She half expected Connell to be there at the helipad to march her off to the next gig, but instead he’d left a note under her door.
8 p.m. In the Lobby.
Well he might be in the lobby at eight p.m., but while he was more than cute enough to want to spend the evening with him, she had another appointment. But first she needed to research BDSM. Hell, she was clueless, and no amount of good acting was going to get her through a situation she knew nothing about. She vaguely pictured dungeons and whips and flinched at the thought. Maybe she could do the whipping rather than be on the other end? Her stomach turned at the thought. What was she thinking? Okay, she liked Steve’s dimples, but she liked Connell’s eyes, too. And they were both louses. Or is that lice? She’d rather have them both together in a bed than either one in a dungeon. Actually the thought of a double act was more than appealing and she had to stop herself blushing as her imagination when into hyperdrive. It had definitely been too long since she’d had a boyfriend.
Her research was partly reassuring. BDSM clubs seemed to abound beneath the surface and though some were clearly seedy, as far as she could gather, Half Moon was definitely upmarket and legit. She could only hope that High Towers was as well. The question was—what to wear? Any thought of Madame Lash was going to be curtailed by lack of suitable clothes, to say nothing of a fair degree of certainty she couldn’t pull it off. Going as a submissive seemed a better idea. Steve hadn’t been interested in her when she’d played dumb and demure, so she just had to keep that up to keep out of his clutches. Simple.
She finally selected the tight white knit dress even if it did show her bra and panty lines, added black tights and Elle’s white boots and coat and headed off to find a bus after leaving a note for Connell. Sorry, something came up.
It was nearly nine o’clock when she arrived in Dinner Plains on the bus, and the place was deserted. Houses were dotted between trees with lights on, but there was no noise after her two fellow passengers disappeared down a road, taking their torch with them. The street lights were few and far between, them and the moonlight casting flickering shadows over the road. Some PI I am. Sienna tried to make sense of her map with the aid of a miniscule torch on her key ring. Left, then second on the right. But the scale wasn’t clear. After she’d gone five hundred meters into nothingness she was almost ready to give up. Then car lights lit the road, and as she stepped back, it turned into a driveway another hundred meters further on. With the extra light she could see an imposing house between the trees, complete with two towers. It had to be it.
The house as she neared it was huge, and more than imposing, at night it was positively intimidating. Gargoyles glared down from the turrets and the windows were heavily draped in dark red, through which she could just make out a number of people in candle light. At least they still had their clothes on. A chunk of snow falling beside her as she tried to peer through made her jump, and the slight cry had been heard. The door opened and a man peered out. Not Steve.
“Come inside or you’ll freeze,” he said.
All things considered, she wasn’t sure which option was the best, but this gray-haired elegant man wasn’t about to take no for an answer. Sienna forced a smile, thinking playing demure and clueless was going to be a breeze, and stepped inside.
“Let me have your coat,” said the man, helping her out of it. “I’m Lindsay. You have an invitation?”
“Ah yes,” said Sienna, pulling the card Steve had given her out of her pocket as the coat was deposited on a rack. “Steve said anytime after eight?”
“Come, let me get you a drink.”
Lindsay ushered her into the room into which she had been peering. A few people looked up briefly, but they kept on talking and mostly ignored her. There must have been fifteen or so people, roughly equal gender mix. Elegantly dressed, mostly thirty to forty-five she guessed. No one she recognized. With a glass of wine in hand and heart thumping, she wandered over to a small group, wondering about an opening line. Do you come here often? Do you whip or get whipped? Oh God, she so wished she was anywhere else but here. Elle owed her big time.
She opted for a simpler approach. “I’m Sienna.”
The two women smiled, one rubbing her arm. “Welcome Sienna,” she all but purred. How did women do that?
“You’re new?”
“Ah yes. Very.” May as well be honest.
The overweight balding man beamed. “I’m Sam,” he said, winking. He patted her butt. So what is his real name? Harry? Cecil? God she should have used a name other than her own.
She looked around for anything to help her escape and caught sight of Steve in the doorway. He had seen the pat and was looking amused. Sienna glared at him. This seemed to amuse him more. He toasted her with his glass and then disappeared. Bastard.
She managed to move to another group who were, curiously, talking about fly-fishing to which she had nothing to contribute. Hoping she was unobserved, slipped out into the corridor on the pretext of finding the bathroom. But what she really needed to do was check this place out to find out as much as she could about Steve and then get back to that bus stop before the last bus went.
Opposite the room they were in, she found another large room, doors open and two couples sitting, talking, or at least mostly, on corner couches. Nothing much of interest. The corridor led backwards with little light, but enough to find a locked door under the staircase, she imagined to the cellar—or was it dungeon?—and two bathrooms. It would be hard to keep wandering in the pretext of finding them when they were so obviously located, but as Sienna intended this to be the one and only visit to High Towers, she needed to do as much looking about as she could. She wished she knew where Steve was. Hopefully with some sub or, better still, tied up by a Dom who could keep him out of her hair.
She had to go upstairs. No one seemed to be watching, and as the lighting was so poor, she felt she was safe, even if the floorboards did creak. At the top landing she had a choice of three directions. Left first.
There were a number of ordinary-looking rooms. Ordinary except they all had king-size beds. By the third one, she realized each had a theme. Nautical, French boudoir, and, heaven’s above, a nursery! Only, the cot was king-size. Sienna had to stifle a giggle. Okay, onto the right corridor. Here was much the same but with color themes. Deep green, deep red, stark white, rich purple. She wandered over to the bedside table and opened it up. Handcuffs, feathers, condoms, and the whip. A pile of magazines was topped with the Kama Sutra. She swallowed and turned around to go and almost screamed. Sam was standing there, grinning.
“And I thought you were shy,” he said, winking again.
Shit. “I am,” Sienna assured him. “Just, um, here to, um, make myself feel a little more comfortable.”
“I bet you are,” said Sam, words slurring slightly.
Sienna evaluated him quickly. Okay, he would probably weigh thirty kilos more than her, but he was old, unfit, and drunk. She could handle this.
“Look, Casanova,” she said sweetly, walking over to him, “not sure you’re my type.”
“Sure I am,” said Sam, grabbing at her. “You’ll be a great little submissive, I can tell.”
Really? He smelt of beer, garlic, and sweat and had a wedding ring. No, not her type. She gave him a shove, but he had his arms around her and it was going to take more work to extricate herself.
“No thanks, and I wouldn’t do that again if I was you,” she said. When the next shove didn’t bring any results other than a more ardent attempt to kiss her, she put her knee up firmly into his groin. This time the push yielded results, but he was still not about to give up. Sighing, Sienna said, “I warned you,” and swept her leg under his, bringing him unceremoniously to the ground. Unfortunately, he tri
ed to use her to stay upright and in the process brought her crashing down on top on him. As Sienna wriggled herself out of his grasp, dress up around her tits, she heard a low laugh and swung around and found herself looking directly up at Steve Prescott.
Chapter Four
How did I get her so wrong? Steve wasn’t sure whether to be amused or pissed. He was generally accurate in his assessment of women. Sienna had had all the hallmarks of a sweet submissive and she had been to Half Moon. Now she had just decked the mayor, whom he had been trying to get on his side regarding a building permit. Which one to deal with first?
“You, young lady,” he said hauling Sienna up, “shouldn’t be up here.”
“I…”
“Save your explanations for later. I’m looking forward to it.” Steve escorted her down the back corridor, the one she hadn’t explored, past a Private sign, and into an office. “Wait here.”
He locked the door so she didn’t have an option. Now to deal with the mayor, and as quickly as possible. Seeing Sienna with her dress up around her armpits and smelling her oriental scent was giving him some very clear ideas of how he would like to spend the rest of the evening. Demure, she had had no appeal, but a bit of fight made a sub so much more worth the effort.
* * * *
When Sienna recovered from her embarrassment she got annoyed. How dare Steve Prescott cart her down a corridor? And unbelievably, dare to lock her in! But her anger soon dissipated when she saw where she was locked. His office? It couldn’t be better. The filing cabinet had a key in it and the desk drawers didn’t have locks. She set to work and hoped he took all evening.
The building permit was easy to find. A member-only nightclub, quite small, in the same block that the café was in. No prizes for guessing what sort of nightclub.
She looked around feeling like a kid in a candy shop, not sure where to go to next. She tried to focus—finances. There was one full drawer devoted to this. Nothing about Melbourne operations, which presumably were kept elsewhere. Time had to be running out and there was nothing jumping out at her.
Elle had said PI class 101? Diary! It was there on his desk, so she flicked through. Scattered appointments, often “CC.” But “cc’d” what to whom?
What about a file on DJ? She went back to the filing cabinet. Nothing under Jackovitch or Draco or Ski Spectacular. Getting desperate she looked under O. There, staring at her was a file labeled Elle O’Grady.
* * * *
When Steve unlocked the door of his office, he was feeling uncertain, not a usual state of mind for him. With some surprise he noted he wasn’t even feeling bored. The cause? He actually had no idea whether he was about to get something thrown at him or whether she’d be standing there naked. Okay, that was wishful thinking and he’d better steel himself for disappointment.
As it turned out Sienna was sitting on his desk, looking flushed. Maybe a bit nervous, but there was no mistaking the feistiness underneath that he had initially missed. Things were continuing to look up.
“So Miss…Martin wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” Sienna folded her arms. “I could have you up for kidnapping.”
Steve laughed. “Fifteen minutes? After you voluntarily entered the house of sin? I doubt it. Besides one of my guests is the local police chief.”
“Guests?”
“As are you,” said Steve smoothly. “Another drink?”
“So Casanova Sam can make another running tackle?”
“Casanova has gone home with a bruised butt,” said Steve. “This is a…personal…invitation.”
Sienna stared. “Um, well, maybe.”
“Maybe on what conditions?”
Sienna, to Steve’s astonishment, was blushing. Delicious. “I kind of came here under false pretenses,” she said in a rush.
Steve raised an eyebrow.
“I’ve never in my life been into a BDSM house.” She swallowed, eyes large and staring up at him. He melted.
“Then allow me to show you around one.”
* * * *
Steve got her a glass of champagne first. There were still people mingling around, but she had heard stairs creaking and rather thought some of the rooms she had seen might no longer be empty. But Sienna was largely oblivious to it all, all except Steve’s hand gently caressing her elbow, his dark eyes trying to see into her soul, and of course the killer dimples. But there was the minor problem of needing to get back into his office and see that file. She hadn’t even had time to take it out when she had heard him returning.
“Let me clear up a few myths first,” said Steve, guiding her to a plush red velvet corner couch lit only by the flickering of an antique blue lamp with a wrought-iron base. “I do not run brothels. No one pays, except as an entrance cost for trialing and a membership fee for others. That covers drink, snacks, and laundry.”
“You don’t pay ‘staff’?”
“You mean prostitutes? No. Lindsay here and Mae Lin at Half Moon get paid as managers. But any…liaison…is purely voluntary and consensual. There are very clear guidelines. Your Casanova crossed them, hence my arrival.”
“But the relationships…they’re casual, right?” It didn’t gel with Sienna. Sex had to have love, emotion.
“Some,” Steve agreed. He leant into her and she could smell musk and sensed something even more erotic, a dangerousness that she would have usually run from. He ran his hand down her cheek and pulled her chin around gently so she was forced to look into his eyes.
“But the best ones are not,” he said softly. “Not forever relationships, perhaps, but exclusive and mutually satisfying while they last.”
Sienna could hardly breathe. She still wanted to run, but not as much as she wanted him to kiss her. It must have been the alcohol, though she’d had less than a glass. “So do you do the Dom or the sub bit?” she managed to say in a whisper.
“We wouldn’t have to do anything in a rush, just work up to it,” he said, nibbling on her ear. “When and if you were comfortable. You would, I’m certain, enjoy being my submissive. Eventually.”
And what about in the mean time? Steve must have seen her look. He laughed, a low throaty sound that along with the hand on her leg was making her horribly wet. She wondered if the laundry expenses covered the couch.
“It isn’t about pain,” he said. “It’s about pleasure. And learning about pleasuring each other in a different dimension.”
Okay, pleasure she could deal with.
She let the agreement be silent, not trusting herself to speak. Against her better judgment, she did trust him, at least to stop if she said no. Trusting herself was going to be harder. She wasn’t at all sure what Steve was offering, but she wanted suddenly, desperately, to find out. Sex had until now been her and a vibrator or her ex-boyfriend Max, who had been sweet but inept. Inept just wasn’t a word she could consider around Steve Prescott.
He took her to what she presumed was his bedroom, upstairs in the back wing, a huge room in which a fire was glowing. Sparks flew when Steve added a log. In the shadows she couldn’t see his expression and stood frozen until he pulled her to him, and slowly began undoing the buttons of the dress before they sank to their knees onto the rug in front of the hearth.
“You’re beautiful,” he told her, tongue on her ear from behind and hand caressing her neck, then lower, cupping her breasts still held in her bra.
Sienna pressed herself against his back, allowing him to cocoon and consume her. She helped him peel her dress over her arms, relishing his touch and the moistness of his lips on her neck, shoulders and then tracing down her backbone as he brought the dress lower and lower.
“Stand up,” he said, and there was a suggestion of it being an order, but she felt compelled to do what he asked, her body craving whatever he had in mind.
“Now take all your clothes off,” he said, lying back, his own shirt half-open, hinting at a muscular torso.
She hesitated and he stared hard at her, saying nothing but conveying much. She swal
lowed, and dropped the dress on the floor, stepping out of it and her tights so she was only in the tiniest of thongs and a lacy matching white bra. She stared back defiantly, trying to cover herself and how self-conscious she felt.
“Don’t!” his voice sounded harsh against crackling of the fire and outside wind, which had now picked up. He stood up, and pulled her chin upwards, almost aggressively. “You are beautiful, gloriously so. Your first lesson is to believe that and trust in me that I do.”
Sienna found herself shaking. “Kiss me,” she whispered.
He smiled and kissed her softly, but on her forehead. “Second lesson is you can’t ask but must trust me to deliver when the time is right.”
But that is now!
He saw the look and laughed, then in one swift movement picked her up and threw her on the bed. “Against my better judgment, we’ll do it your way. Next time, though, I will have many lessons.” She watched him pull off his shirt, remove the rest of his clothing, and slip on a condom he had extracted from the bedside table, coming to the bed with skin glowing in the firelight. He kissed her hard and with as much longing as she felt, lips crushing hers, then pulling at her bra, over her nipples as his hand went towards her butt. Descending further, a hand went to either side of her thong, pulling it down until she, too, was naked.
Lying beside her, Steve kissed her again, pinching her nipples as he did.
“Painful?”
“No.”
Then he took a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard. It sent waves of pleasure through her and she felt her juices flow.
“Painful?”
“Definitely not.”
This time he used his teeth, pulling her nipple and just as it threatened to hurt, he eased back, licking the areola and sucking. Tingles went up and down her.
“Pleasure,” he murmured, “not pain.”
Moving his mouth to the other nipple, his hand moved lower and she shifted slightly so she could feel the hardness of his cock in her hand, rubbing the shaft as his fingers found her clit.
