I slowly rest my butt on the same sofa where Roy spanked me only two hours earlier. “This is strictly between us, correct?”
“Everything we discuss is confidential.”
I’m nervous and shift, causing the soreness to bloom across my cheeks. It’s a delicious sensation, and it takes the edge off what would normally be an extremely uncomfortable conversation for me. “I need birth control.”
Dr. Johnson pulls a small notepad from her purse and slips on a pair of reading glasses. “Do you have a preference?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t used any before.” I should have done research.
“Why don’t I ask you some questions, and we can evaluate what might work best for you?”
I nod.
“Are your periods regular?”
“No.” She looks up, I think to wait for me to expound on my answer. “Sometimes it’s once a month.” I shrug. “Sometimes once every two months. I’ve gone six months and nothing.”
“I see.” She looks me over. “Cramping? Headaches? Heavy flow?”
I cross my legs. “No.”
She writes in a small notepad. “And you’ve had a pelvic exam this year.”
“Yes.” My first. Thankfully, my doctor took things slow and explained everything and said she left me intact. I guess my status as a virgin was evident. Remembering the exam makes me realize this conversation is a Sunday stroll compared to that. I look up, and she’s waiting, I guess for me to provide more information. “Dr. Smythe. She has a practice in Middleburg.”
This is also written in her notepad. “Well.” She takes off her glasses. “There are many different forms of birth control. I’d suggest the pill. It should level out your period irregularity and provide you with almost one hundred percent effectiveness. Would you have a problem remembering to take it every day?”
I don’t think so as long as I make it part of my routine. “So I could still get pregnant even while taking the pill?”
She smiles, and it makes her look younger. “It’s ninety-nine point nine percent effective when taken correctly. It’s important to take it at the same time every day. If prescribed antibiotics, tell the doctor you’re on the pill. Some drugs can render the pill ineffective.”
Everything sounds manageable.
“Since you’re irregular and have no idea when to expect your next period, I suggest you start taking the pill now. After seven consecutive days, you’ll be protected against pregnancy.”
I adjust, uncrossing my legs but keeping my knees together.
“It won’t protect you from sexually transmitted diseases. You should have your partner tested, and yourself, if you think it’s necessary.”
I nod. I don’t need it, and Roy has already told me he’s clear.
“I need your approval to notify your doctor of what I’ve prescribed.” She reaches into her bag and pulls a prescription pad out and starts writing.
“Yes, of course.”
She stands and hands me the prescription and a packet of pills. “Do you have any further questions?”
Carefully, I rise up and let out a long breath of relief. My long-delayed journey to womanhood is almost complete. When Roy comes back, he’s promised we’ll go away together, and he won’t make me wait any longer. “No, not right now.”
“Here’s my card. Please, call me if you need anything else.” She heads for the door.
“Should I pay you now?”
She turns and gives me what I’d describe as a motherly smile. “No, Mr. Blackwood has taken care of everything.”
That throws a lightning bolt of destruction to my confidence. “So he does this regularly?”
She narrows her eyes a bit. “I handle the physicals for Mr. Blackwood’s female employees and, if they ask, I can provide their gynecological needs.”
“I see. Thank you.”
“Take care, Miss Aldridge.” She opens the door and almost runs into Vincent.
“Hello,” he says. His wardrobe bag is thrown over his shoulder.
She turns to give me a look and walks down the hallway.
“Who is she?” Vincent asks.
“Dr. Johnson.”
“Are you sick?”
“No, birth control.”
“Glad you’re taking things seriously. Women probably break out pregnant when he walks into a room. Maybe you should double the dose.” He walks in, closing the door behind him, and tosses his tux on the spanking couch.
He’s not the least bit surprised I had a house call—well, hotel call—from a physician regarding birth control. Maybe the wealthy don’t make appointments and sit in a waiting room reading year-old issues of Popular Mechanics and Good Housekeeping.
“You look”—he walks around me like I’m a new car in a showroom—“radiant. He’s given you the dick, hasn’t he?”
I can’t control the blush spreading across my cheeks and neck.
“The right dick is transformative.” He throws his hands into the air. “Roy with the magical cock will heal you.” He places his hand on my forehead, mimicking a televangelist.
“There is something seriously wrong with you.” I swat his hand away and try to look adult-ish, but only end up breaking out in a case of the giggles.
“Seriously, let the man be about his business with you. If he wants to duct tape you to the wall, let him.”
Giggling, I say, “Not happening.”
His eyes narrow. “He’s a freak, isn’t he? Oh, yes, baby girl’s gonna have some fun, finally.”
I turn around, leaving Vincent humping the sofa. “I’m not talking with you about this.”
He grabs his garment bag and follows me. “Why?” He hangs it up and turns around to face me. “I sleep with men. You sleep with men.”
“It seems different.”
“And women,” he continues. “I’ve got all the angles.”
This revelation makes me forget about the epic spanking I received, well, for a second or two. “You have?”
“Yes, love, I have.” He snaps his fingers. “Think of me as your sexual hotline.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I want details. Who?”
“A gentleman never tells.” He’s grinning like Puck. “And I’m always drunk when I dip into the pond. It’s all a bit hazy.”
“Wait, I’ve been with you when you’re drunk; you never looked at me.” Did he?
“Of course not, stupid, you’re a sister to me.” He scans the room. “Where’s the dress?”
“I’ll let you change the subject for now, but don’t think I’m forgetting.” He gives me a wink and follows me to the closet. He discounts the first two I show him as too old and pulls out the one I was afraid he’d pick.
“Perfect,” he says, holding it up to me. “This was on the runway. You won’t have this body forever. Take advantage of it while you’ve got it.”
“I’ll try it on.” But I’m not committing to it.
“While you get your bits into the dress, I’ll put on my tux.”
The dress is the loveliest shade of blue and complements my eyes. The silky fabric is cut to drape over and accentuate a woman’s curves. As I zip up the skirt, I think about Vincent having sex with females. Why only when drunk? And did Roy sense something about Vincent? Or did he have someone look into him? Maybe Proctor. And isn’t that a warm and fuzzy thought—not.
The top of the dress is held up by straps around my neck, and the bodice spreads around my chest, leaving a good bit of my back exposed. The top and skirt almost meet, but not quite, so there’s a small sliver of flesh exposed. I was afraid my breasts would look too big and wobbly unrestrained, but there’s a bra built into the bodice. As I walk around the room, I hum with delight at the slight discomfort of the silk sliding across my ass.
There’s a swollen soreness kind of combination sensation, but no pain. It sounds contradictory, but I’m comforted and loved and sexy after the spanking, and the sense of closeness I have with Roy is
exponentially multiplied. He saw me at my worst and did what I asked, and it was glorious. I want to do it again without the compulsion. Me over his lap and his hand—
Vincent barges in. “Let me see if the swan has finally spread her wings.” He isn’t looking too shabby himself, decked out in his tux. “I’d fuck you.” His smile lets me know he’s only messing with me.
“Do you think it’s too…clingy?”
“It’s Calvin Klein, and you’re going to make every man jealous and every woman suicidal with how gorgeous you are.”
“Right,” I elongate the word. “What about my hair? Roy said to leave it down, but do you think it’s too wild?”
“Don’t argue with the man. Besides, he’s right, you’re a Botticelli painting come to life.”
“Not slutty, then?”
“Love, did they teach you nothing in school? The golden rule is you show either leg or cleavage, but never both.” He comes around and pulls the skirt out, showing how it almost hangs to the floor. “No leg, and barely any cleavage—more a hint of it.”
We both appraise our reflections. Vincent adjusts his cuff links, looking dashing and handsome in his traditional tuxedo with his wavy black hair brushed back from his high cheekbones, his dark eyes flashing like black diamonds. Beside him, I’m summer to his winter, with my curly hair flowing around my face and over my shoulders.
“Don’t be mad,” he says in a rare serious tone. “I had your Roy looked into.”
My Roy, is that what he is now? I wait, knowing Vincent likes dramatic pauses.
“He was a fixer—the best before he started Titan.”
I squint into my reflection. “Fixer?”
“Father hired one when Angelina had the fling with the Italian model.”
I vaguely remember him telling me about his sister and a man who stalked her, or maybe they were dating. He was kind of elusive about the whole thing, which was odd for Vincent. Or maybe not, since I never knew he had sex with women.
“He made sure she was left alone, and our family and the photos stayed out of the gossip columns.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Not if you’re his client.” Vincent’s smile does not reassure me. “Be careful, okay? He’s not a criminal, but definitely considered a dangerous man to cross.”
“Speaking of dangerous.” I flash the ring in his face.
“From Roy?”
“Not from Roy. This was my yearly gift.”
Vincent blinks and blinks again. “Why are you wearing it?”
“Does it look familiar?”
I hold my hand up while he looks it over, but doesn’t touch it. “Nice. Older piece. Must be worth a fortune.” He shakes his head and steps back. “And Roy’s on board with you wearing this?”
“I need to know. This…” I sigh and let my hand fall to my side. “It needs to stop.”
“But now, with Roy leaving, I don’t like it.” He lifts my finger to give my ring another look. “Mother might know something. She’s got an eye for jewels.” He pulls out his phone and snaps a few pictures.
“Thanks.”
“You know, those gifts have always given me the creeps.”
Brother, you’re preaching to the choir.
“Why don’t I stay with you while Roy is gone? We can hang out, watch movies, eat copious amounts of food, and run until we puke. Sounds fun, no?”
“Sounds great, but you don’t have to. Roy has his people.” I wish I could think of a better word. “Like bodyguards watching over me.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to. You’re my baby sister.” He stops and squints at me. “Bodyguards? Doesn’t that sound yummy.” Vincent’s hand goes to his hip. “You know, I’ve cranked out a week’s load thinking of Roy, and when I met him with his gun and his arms—”
“Nope, not hearing this.” I plug my ears.
“Well.” He tugs on my arms. “What do these bodyguards look like?”
“Proctor.” I sigh, not knowing what to say. “He’s handsome, kind of, but mechanical and scary.”
“Mechanical and scary? This I’ve got to see.”
“He’s here tonight, but be careful with him, okay? No crazy jokes or provoking.”
“And.” He rolls his hand for me to continue.
“Gavin—haven’t seen him. He’ll be here tonight too. He sounds Scottish, I think.”
He thuds his chest in time to a beating heart. “Manly men,” he sighs, and shivers. “My Baby Girl has got herself a dangerous man.” Vincent dramatically throws the end of his white scarf over his shoulder.
My phone rings, and I pull it from the clutch to see a message from Roy.
“Five minutes or I’ll come and get you.”
I know it’s not an idle threat. Roy would storm into the room and carry me over his shoulder into the party. “He’s impatient.” I toss the phone back in my clutch. “We better go.”
“I bet he is. Gonna break out in a massive boner when he sees you.”
“You’d like that.” I link arms with Vincent, and we walk together to the elevator.
He punches the button, and we descend. “So, you’ll share?”
“Ask him,” I say as we step off the elevator to find a waiting Roy.
He’s waiting with his feet slightly more than shoulder-width apart, and it reminds me of a bull ready to charge.
“Roy. Love.” Vincent walks with me out of the elevator. “What have you done to my Baby Girl?”
Roy’s eyebrow lifts.
“A few weeks of your influence and Daisy has turned into a swan.” Vincent draws his arm from mine and falls into a courtly bow beside me.
I smile at Vincent and keep my eyes lowered, afraid of what I’ll see in Roy’s gaze. Will he be pleased? Or see a scared girl dressed up as a woman?
“Two pretty young things let loose among the aged beasts.”
Roy’s words draw my eyes up to see his cold, green eyes are burning bright. My face flushes as he takes one arm and Vincent takes the other.
“Let’s give them something to talk about, shall we?” Vincent says. “Let them worship at our feet.”
We walk together into the ballroom filled with beautifully dressed people holding drinks and talking in small groups.
“Don’t get up to too much mischief,” I warn Vincent.
Roy drops his large hand on Vincent’s shoulder. “Run wild, boy, and give them something to regret tomorrow.” My jaw drops as Roy roughs up Vincent’s hair as he walks away in search of a drink. “What?” Roy looks at me with his eyebrow raised.
“You shouldn’t encourage him.” I look around. “Vincent isn’t known for his impulse control.”
“No harm will come to him here.” He kisses my shoulder. “You’re a rare beauty, Miss Aldridge.” His large hand runs over my bare back and rests on my sore ass. “You’re warm. Was it too much?”
I place my hand on his broad chest covered elegantly in a tuxedo shirt and rest it against his heart. “It was perfect.” I lick my lower lip. “Promise me we’ll do that again.”
He kisses my neck and whispers in my ear, “You make me weak, Daisy. So weak.”
I smile. “Thank your assistant for me. I love the dress.” Is she here? I see lots of women, most late twenties or older. Vincent and I might be the youngest people here except for the servers carrying trays of champagne and food.
He growls lows. “I hate sharing you with them.” He scans the room. “But needs must. Let’s go entertain the savages.”
“You didn’t have to invite me.”
He lightly kisses my shoulder. “You should know a little of what you’re getting into.”
“Are you a fixer?”
He nods to a few people. “Vincent.” When I don’t reply he continues. “He’d know about such things, given who his family is.”
“There’s nothing wrong with his family.”
“Loyalty becomes you.” He stops to face me. “I know your world consists of old, wealthy families who s
pend the money of their barbarous ancestors and don’t let the unpleasantness of the world intrude on their reality, but out here, in the real world, we are the ruthless ancestors.”
“So your answer is a yes.”
“You have a knack for picking the most inopportune times to ask questions.”
“It doesn’t matter, not tonight at least.” I smile up at him, not caring whether or not it’s true.
“Roy.” A man with chemically enhanced black hair joins us. “Do you have a moment? Won’t take more than a minute or two.” He dips his head to me.
“It’s okay. I’ll take in the view.” I need a minute to settle anyway. From spanking to Dr. Johnson and Vincent’s revelation about women…Yeah, a minute or two of quiet would do me good.
Roy squeezes my hand, and I know he’s tracking me with his eyes as I walk over to the windows and look out at the Washington Monument glowing under the lights like a dagger to the sky. So much more beautiful than the pictures I’ve seen.
“Don’t be upset. He’s not ignoring you.”
I’d know his voice anywhere, and cut my eyes to see Proctor standing next to me.
“I’m not. This is a business function.”
“Your aunts are hiding something.”
“My aunts aren’t to be bothered,” I snap.
He tilts his head in that insect way. “They weren’t and aren’t—I only had a few questions. I left them at ease.”
I shake my head, tamping down the intense disquiet I get in his presence. “Please be gentle with them.”
“My orders are to identify gift-giver. Neutralize. Protect Daisy. Treat Daisy and loved ones with kid gloves.”
He’s a robot, some secret military project. Or maybe he’s part human, part robot?
“Mr. Stanwyck’s here.” He motions his head back and to the right. “Be casual when you look around, like you’re window shopping.”
“I thought he and Roy parted ways?”
“These parties are for business connections. Roy and Mr. Stanwyck will work together again.”
I do as he asks, and there in a grouping of three other men is Mr. Stanwyck, holding a glass of wine and staring at me.
“Reach your right hand up, brush the hair from your face, and flash the ring. Don’t look at him, though. Pretend he isn’t there and you’re scanning the crowd for Roy.”
Secrets In Our Scars Page 18
