by Sky Corgan
“We had a personal conflict of interest.” It's vague but the truth.
“Hopefully something that will be settled soon.” She lets her long, blood-red nails fall from the petals of the flower pen and taps them on my desk, making a clicking sound that sends a shiver down my spine and draws my attention to her hand. Always superbly manicured. Her fingers are long and dainty, and she seems to have a knack for picking out the perfect colors of nail polish to accent her chocolate skin. She's a beautiful woman.
I shrug. “There's no way of knowing, honestly. We haven't talked about things since it happened.”
“You should.” She glances over at Derrick's desk where he's pretending to work on the layout of the furniture in Derrick's bedroom. It's a job that would usually only take a few minutes, but he knows that Tyra has a good view of his computer from where she's standing.
“Maybe next week.” I offer her a weak smile.
“Well, do it soon. I'm sure it's stressful working together when there's so much tension between the two of you.”
“Yes, ma'am.” I nod before she walks away. As soon as her back is turned, I frown, then glance at Derrick. Nothing would please me more than to smooth things over with him. Hopefully, he'll be ready to talk soon.
My days are spent waiting for Lucian to contact me. When Friday hits with no correspondence from him, I decide to send him a casual text message asking how he's doing. Not surprisingly, he doesn't respond.
On Saturday, I watch Janice prance around the apartment in a new leather outfit. Sometimes it makes me sick how flawlessly attractive she is. She's wearing a tight black corset that clasps at the front with thigh-high stockings and knee-high lace-up leather boots. The bust is conical with a swirling pattern that caps off at her nipples. It reminds me of something that Madonna would wear though not so dramatic. Her blonde hair falls over her shoulders in soft ringlets. Her eye makeup is dark and her lips are cherry-red. I pray to God that Lucian doesn't see her like this.
“I'm gonna hop on Sir's dick tonight.” She wiggles her butt as she dances around the living room.
I can't help but grin. “You go get you some.”
“I plan on it. It just sucks that I have to pay for it. Mayhaps I'll suggest a more permanent arrangement for us.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Surely, he would want a gorgeous submissive like me.” Janice presses a dainty fingertip to her lips and pouts. It makes her look absolutely stunning and completely sexy. If I did something like that, I'd just look like an idiot.
“You never know,” I sigh, not wanting to be a downer but also wanting to speak my mind. “I have a feeling that all of the Doms who work at Flesh have commitment issues.”
“Pfft. Not everyone is Blue Eyes.”
“I suppose not.” I shrug.
“Speaking of which, how are things going with him?” She sits down on the sofa beside me.
“You actually want to know?” I smirk.
“Not really, but what are friends for.” She wrinkles her nose.
I roll my eyes, knowing that she's not really being sincere. Janice cares, even if she doesn't want to admit it.
“I haven't heard from him since he banged me in the furniture store.” My shoulders slump a bit.
“He banged you in a furniture store?” Janice's eyes go wide and her mouth forms an O.
“Yep. One I occasionally visit for work, no less. And to top it off, we got caught.”
“Holy shit, Amy. That is so fucking kinky. I never knew you had that in you.” Her lips split into a huge grin and she pokes at my side, causing me to squirm.
“Stop.” I slap at her hand. “I don't have it in me. He kinda forced me to.”
“Even hotter.” She pokes me a final time. “Well, one definitely can't say that he's not interested in you.”
“You think so?” I relax and smile.
“At least he's interested in your V.” Janice smacks my arm before standing up.
That doesn't make me feel any better. For a split second, I thought she was genuinely going to comfort me. I suppose that was high hopes though.
“If you see him there, tell him to return my text messages.” I twist to look at her as she walks around the sofa to grab her trench coat.
“Will do.” She mock salutes me before picking up her purse and keys from the bar. “Are you sure you don't want to come?”
“Nah. It's too late to make an appointment, and I kind of just want to take it easy tonight.”
“Alright. Well, I doubt I'll see him, but I'll tell you if I do.”
“Have fun.” I wave to her over my shoulder, then listen to the sound of the door opening and closing.
As soon as she's gone, I let out a deep sigh and pick up my phone off of the coffee table, scrolling through my text messages to the ones that I left for Lucian. I really wish he'd text me back...or call me. Anything. Nothing would make my weekend better than spending it with him. That's probably not going to happen though, which means that it's going to be a lonely weekend filled with television and unpleasant thoughts.
After looking at my unanswered text messages to Lucian, I scroll up to read my last conversation with Derrick. To be honest, I feel kind of bad about how things turned out. Maybe I made the wrong choice by going with Lucian instead of giving Derrick a chance. I believe what Janice said though about him just wanting to date me because he feels threatened that there's another man in my life. His confession of love was too unexpected—too out of the blue.
Against my better judgment, I tap out a text to him. “I hope you're having a good weekend. I just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry and I miss you.”
After hitting the send button, I set my phone down and stare at it, waiting for him to respond. Minutes tick by and then they turn into hours. For as much as I'd like to pretend that he's at a club and just hasn't had time to look at his phone, more than likely he's purposely ignoring me. Perhaps he and Lucian aren't so different after all.
***
With nothing better to do, I go to bed early, so Janice doesn't get a chance to regale me with her tales of BDSM glory until the next morning. We sit at the kitchen table together eating cereal, and she lifts up her shirt to show me the red marks that her Sir left behind.
“I let him cane me,” she tells me, her eyes going wide.
I cringe at the thought. “Doesn't that hurt?”
“Yes, but it's a good kind of pain. A different kind of pain than the flogger. I don't think it's something I'd do all the time, but it's good for a more intense experience.
He also put these really tight nipple clamps on me and shoved ice up my pussy. I honestly thought that the ice would hurt more than it did, but my body melted it fairly quickly. Then he made me lick the puddle off of the floor.”
“Ew.” I screw my face. “Weren't you worried about...I don't know, getting something?”
She laughs. “Oh, Amy. Loosen up. I bet Blue Eyes likes to do all of that stuff too. Speaking of which, I didn't see him, but that doesn't mean he wasn't there. You know how the process goes. You see the guy at the front desk and then he sends you to a room. If Blue Eyes was with a client, I wouldn't know.” She shrugs before shoving a spoonful of Cap'n Crunch into her mouth and chewing noisily.
“I suppose not.” I try not to let the information dampen my mood. If anything, it should make me happy that she didn't see him. Just knowing that he could have been there though causes unpleasant emotions to pass through me.
“But anyway, I talked to Sir about becoming his submissive, and he said that he'd have to get to know me better first.” She frowns. “I have a feeling that you were right about the Doms there.”
“It makes sense.” I shrug. “While I know it's not out of order for Doms to do what they want, I doubt the guys who work at Flesh would have time to manage their own submissives when they're spending so much time at Flesh.”
“Yeah. It kind of sucks though.” She pokes at her cereal with her spoon. “I really want a Dom of my own. I guess I should star
t attending some munches.”
“No more Flesh?” I quirk an eyebrow at her.
She sighs as if the thought displeases her. “I enjoy going, and I kind of like that the experience is always custom designed to me. I'll probably keep going until I find a Dom of my own. At least that way, I can rack up some more experience instead of coming off as a noob to potential Doms.”
“Whatever floats your boat. It's a rather expensive addiction.” I dig out a few raisins from my Raisin Bran and pop them into my mouth.
“I know.” She frowns. “But I like it so much.”
“Well, it's your time and money.” My eyes widen to indicate that I think it's a waste. For what she wants, she'd be better off trawling munches for a Dom. At $150 for a thirty-minute session and $300 for an hour, I don't see how she's going to afford going as frequently to Flesh as it sounds like she wants to go. I know I was cringing when I handed over the money for my session with Lucian.
“It's something I enjoy. Some girls like to get their hair and nails done every other week. I like to let a hot, muscular leather-bound man make me submit.” She grins.
“To each her own.” I raise my glass of water in mock cheers.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I return to work on Monday hoping that Derrick might have cooled down over the weekend. The text I sent him was proof that I'm ready to make amends. Now the ball is in his court. And from the looks of it, he's still not interested in patching up our relationship.
He doesn't even acknowledge me as he passes by my desk to go to his. It hurts that he's being so dismissive, and I'm beginning to wonder if he'll ever forgive me.
My inbox is woefully empty. Lucian didn't send me anything over the weekend, not that I expected him to. I spend the day playing games on my computer and glancing down at the little envelope icon on the toolbar at the bottom of my computer screen every few hours. The only time it shows anything other than a big fat zero is when Tyra sends me something. Each time I see the one pop up, my heart skips a beat, hoping it's Lucian. It never is though.
Monday passes, and Tuesday is another boring day with no friendly interaction from Derrick and no contact from Lucian. By Wednesday, I'm beginning to get worried. Apparently, so is Tyra, because she swings by my desk to see if Lucian has reached out to me. It makes me sick to tell her that he hasn't. Hopefully, she's not thinking that he's going to renege on his contract. Everything we've working on with him so far has taken a long time, so maybe this isn't so abnormal.
On Thursday, I finally get sick of waiting and send him an email.
Doctor Reddick,
It has been a while since anyone at Environ Design has heard from you. I am just contacting you to make sure that you're alright and to see if you'd like to schedule a time to go shopping for the furniture for the rest of your house.
Regards,
Amy Underwood
Interior Designer
Environ Designs
Short, sweet, and to the point. It's professional and not personal, so hopefully he'll respond.
I wait and wait, staring at my inbox, counting down to the end of the day. By the time my shift is over, there's still no response.
On Friday, I shoot an email to Derrick asking if Lucian has contacted him. He responds with a simple 'no'. I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse. Of course, I'm not happy that no one has heard from Lucian. But when Derrick is upset, he typically responds with something snarky or rude. 'No' is such an emotionless word coming from him. It's too impersonal—too careless. Like we're not friends anymore.
It feels like there's a heavy weight on top of me. Depression presses into me, making me sad and mopey. It's been an entire week without contact from Lucian or any sign that Derrick has forgiven me. I'm miserable the likes of which I haven't been in a while. My lips feel frozen in a downward curve, and I'm constantly on the brink of crying.
I'm worried that Lucian has forgotten about me, that he's decided to back out of his contract. The loss of his business doesn't bother me half as much as the loss of his interest. Maybe this is a sign that it's finally over. That it's all finally over. Both Janice and Derrick told me this would happen. Why didn't I listen? Why did they have to be right?
By the end of the day, I've stopped watching my inbox. Lucian isn't going to respond. I know that now. I would be an idiot to think otherwise. If he has any inclination to continue on with his interior design project, he'll contact me at his leisure with no regard to my feelings. There's no way I can rush his response. Even if I sent him something desperate, a text message begging him to reply, I doubt he would. He's cold as ice.
I shut down my computer, grab my purse, and trudge out to my car. By the time I've pulled out of the parking lot of Environ Design, tears are streaming down my face. It feels like meeting Lucian completely screwed up my entire life. He turned me on to pleasures that I never knew I could crave, then strung me along emotionally. Not only that, but he's wrecked my relationship with one of my best friends and has done things that could potentially threaten my job security. He's a monster. A beautiful, horrible monster.
It takes the entire rest of the evening for my sense of loss to melt into bitterness. The veil that Lucian pulled over my eyes is slowly being rolled away. My emotions were skewed with hope, hope that everything he said and did was sincere. That he meant it when he wanted me to belong to him—when he got jealous over Derrick. That his confession about all of the loss in his life was him opening up to me because he was actually interested in sharing a deeper part of himself, one that transcended his seemingly never ending lust.
It was all an act. An act to keep me hooked on him until he got his fill of me. His interest in me has obviously expired. No decent man would go an entire week without contacting a woman whom he has romantic feelings for.
It eats at me that he's left me hanging. There's no closure to anything. Not to what was going on between us. Not to his contract.
Never in the history of my working with Environ Design has a client gone a full week without contacting us unless we already knew that their project was going to be delayed for a specified amount of time. It's bad business for Lucian not to call the company if he's planning on canceling his contract. It's equally bad business not to let us know why everything is being so delayed.
Bitterness turns to anger. Never before has a man disrespected me to this degree. The passive part of me says to let it go, but the pissed off part of me is hungry to let Lucian know exactly what he's done to me. Not that I think he doesn't know. I'm probably the thousandth woman he's played like this. Guys like him have no conscience. They don't care that they leave bleeding hearts in their wake, that they irreparably scar women and make it hard for them to trust any man again.
I should go to his house and wait for him. Knock on his door and demand for him to explain himself. I'm not sure what he'd do though. If he's truly done with me, then he might not even open the door. It would fall in line with his pattern of avoidance.
I could go to his practice. All it would take is a quick Google search to have the address. There's no way to time that right though. If I show up and he's doing surgery on a patient, then I might have to wait forever to see him. He's certainly not worth that much of my time. Not anymore.
There's no winning for me—no way for me to engage him that he won't be able to avoid. And then I remember what Janice said about going to Flesh. About using a fake name to get to him so that I could see if he's sleeping with other women. The thought makes my skin crawl. Meeting him on his turf. I don't see any other way around it though.
I'm going to have to go back to Flesh.
CHAPTER THIRTY
“I need to make an appointment with Lucian Reddick for this Saturday.” It's impossible to keep the disdain from my voice. Hopefully, the guy who mans the telephone will just think that I'm having a bad day. I am having a bad day. A bad day. A bad week. A bad month. A bad everything. Ever since I met Lucian Reddick.
“Sir Lucian,�
� the man parrots absentmindedly as if he's busy doing something. I can hear him clicking on a keyboard. A few minutes later, he speaks again. “Sir Lucian appears to be completely booked up this Saturday.”
My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach. Completely booked up. That means he is fucking other women. He's been fucking other women this entire time.
“How about Sunday?” I sigh, my stress building with every second spent on the phone as I think about how I've been played.
“You got lucky.” The man's voice perks. “He has one opening left.”
“Pencil me in. I don't care what time.”
“Name?”
“Mary Smith,” I read the name from a post-it note in front of me. It's a generic name, one that would bring up a billion results on a Google or Facebook search, not that I think anyone will actually take the time to research it.
“Mary Smith,” he repeats the name back to me slowly, and I can hear him typing on the other end of the line. “Have you been a client of Sir Lucian's before?”
“No. This will be my first time at Flesh,” I lie. “But Sir Lucian came highly recommended by a friend.”
“He's a good Dom. You'll have a good experience with him,” the guy assures me.
“I'm sure I will,” I grumble, thinking about the first time I ever met Lucian. He was supposed to be my rent-a-Dom for a night. A taste into the lifestyle. One taste turned him into a quick addiction, but I was able to fight my need for the experience again.
It feels like I was smarter back then, realizing that he was bad for me. I can distinctly remember throwing the Flesh business card in the trash, knowing that I'd had my fun, but that it was time to get back to reality. He wasn't what I needed then, and he's not what I need now.
