by LK Shaw
“No, wait. Alex? Alex?” I yelled into the phone, but it was too late. The line was already dead. I screeched in frustration and fear. That was twice now that he’d called, and I had gotten no information. I didn’t even know where he was or why he needed help. This was all my fault. I hung up the phone, my hands shaking. I didn’t even realize I was crying until a tear splashed on my hand.
“Boss, you okay back there? I thought I heard you yell.” Gina poked her head through the doorway. Not wanting her to see how shaken up I was, I kept my back to the door as I assured her everything was fine.
Surprised by how calm I sounded, I added, “Thanks for checking on me, Gina. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’ll be out in a minute.”
She hesitated before she replied with a quiet “okay” and turned around to walk back out to the front of the store. I gathered my composure, pasted on a fake smile, and headed out to the front to face the rest of my day, all the while, dying inside not knowing what was happening to Alex.
Connor
I spent four days looking into the adoption of Bridget’s son and finding out what I could about the boy and his parents. In my search, I discovered Christopher and Gail Shipman had been killed in a car accident two months prior. Because the Shipmans had foolishly not drawn up a Will, the courts were responsible for the boy. Even though Alex was biologically Bridget’s son, she had given up her parental rights, so she wasn’t a candidate to home Alex. In fact, she obviously hadn’t even been notified of their deaths. Mrs. Shipman, whose parents were also dead, had been an only child, and the only closest living relative willing to take responsibility for Alex was his uncle, his adoptive father’s older brother.
Malcolm Shipman was single, forty-eight years old, and lived in a small neighborhood in the suburbs. He had no criminal record, not even a parking ticket, and was steadily employed at a big name appliance store. It only took me a single day to find out where Alex was living, so I followed Malcolm for the next three days to observe some of his habits. As soon as Alex left the house and started walking the three blocks to the bus stop, Malcolm would head to the gym where he worked out for precisely an hour. After that, he went to work where he appeared jovial and friendly with all the customers who came into the store. After his shift was over, Malcolm headed straight home and was never home later than 5:30 pm, as if he commanded everyone out of his way. Every night, all the lights went off in the house at exactly 10:00. His routine seemed almost military in its pattern, with no variation..
Alex was a little trickier to observe since he was in school all day. The one thing I did notice during Alex’s trek to and from the bus stop was he didn’t seem to have any friends. He got on and off the school bus alone, and no one walked with him the three blocks from the bus stop to the house. Which seemed unusual for a boy his age, even one who had recently moved to a new neighborhood. He also appeared sullen and unhappy. Granted, he was a thirteen-, almost fourteen-year-old boy whose parents had recently died, but another expression lurked behind his eyes. An expression I tried to ignore, because it reminded me too much of “him”. I avoided thinking of “him” whenever possible, because he made me feel weak and ashamed. Unfortunately, he snuck into my thoughts when I least expected and more often than I wished. I pushed back the memories and brought my attention back to Alex.
The thing that struck me the most was Alex’s resemblance to Bridget. I had become almost an expert in all things Bridget, and I noticed it immediately. Alex had a slight auburn tint to his hair, and he possessed the same large, chocolate-brown eyes surrounded by long, lush eyelashes that grown women would kill for. If not for the more masculine features I could detect, like a strong, square jawline, he could have been described as almost too pretty.
Bridget was worried to death about Alex, so I knew I needed to at least let her know that he’d been located. I also needed to figure out a way to approach Alex without Malcolm being aware, which looked like it was going to be a challenge since, so far, he hadn’t spent a lot of time out of his presence. However, since becoming an adult, I’ve never been one to back away from a challenge.
Even from a distance, I sensed an edge to Alex. An edge no thirteen-year-old boy should have. Something felt wrong about the whole situation, and Alex had obviously called Bridget for a reason.
I figured my best bet would be to try and catch him close to the bus stop on his way to school. It was in the opposite direction of the gym Malcolm went to, and I had yet to spot him coming this way. If that didn’t work out, then I would try during the twenty minutes or so between the time Alex got home from school and Malcolm arrived home from work, but I needed to do a few more days of recon to make sure. I wouldn’t take any chances with Alex’s safety.
It was close to 4:00 pm, and I sat in my office debating what I was going to say to Bridget about Alex. I wanted her to know I’d located him, but I also didn’t want her trying to make contact until I knew exactly what I was dealing with. I took a deep, bracing breath and reached for the phone to try and reach her before she left her office for the day.
“Unique Boutique, this is Bridget, how may I help you?” God, her voice alone made me hard.
“It’s Connor,” I said, succinctly.
“Oh my God, Connor, I’ve been waiting for you to call me for days. Have you found Alex? Is he okay?” She was almost hysterical.
“Yes, I found Alex, and he seems to be safe at the moment,” I told her calmly. “I haven’t —”
“Where is he? I need to see him.”
“Bridget,” I chided gently, “I’m trying to explain if you would please just listen. Now, as I was saying, Alex seems to be safe. I haven’t had a chance to speak to him, but I hope to have the opportunity in the next couple of days. There is nothing you can do right now other than wait for me to talk to him. I need to find out if he was the one who called you and why he thinks he needs help. You came to me. Let me do my job.”
“I know it was him, Connor,” she started, an edge of panic in her voice. “He called again the day I left your office. He said his parents were dead. He sounded scared and said he couldn’t talk long, because ‘he’ would be back soon. Who is ‘he’? What’s going on, Connor? Alex is my son, and I deserve to know, damn it.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me he called again, Bridget?” I snapped in irritation. I needed all the information I could get, and her withholding this from me, intentionally or not, pissed me off. I knew I sounded harsh, but I couldn’t seem to control my emotions knowing a child might be in danger. I waited impatiently for her response.
I heard a slight sniff in the background and knew she was crying. “I’m sorry, Connor. I just didn’t think. It took me by surprise, and I’ve been sitting by the phone waiting for him to call again. I swear if he calls again, I’ll let you know immediately.”
I sighed. “I understand, Bridget, but you need to keep me in the loop. That’s why you came to me. I’m going to try and talk to Alex one day on his way to school. But I need to be careful, just in case. I don’t want to do anything that might endanger him, especially after what you just told me about his last phone call. I’ll let you know when I have news. As hard as it’s going to be, I need you to be patient. Can you do that?”
Silence reigned, and I could feel her hesitation on the other end of the line. As much as I was avoiding it, I knew there was only going to be one way for me to handle Bridget. As with any scene, I had to take control. Otherwise, things were going to go to shit.
“Bridget,” I admonished. “You will be patient, do you understand me?”
As though on autopilot, she replied immediately, “Yes, Sir, I understand.”
“Good girl,” I praised. “I’ll call you in a couple days. Until then, try not to worry.”
I hung up the phone and sighed. God, this case was going to be the death of me. I was already feeling the anxiety and tension start to creep in, my mind was preparing for battle. And my gut told me that was only the beginning.
C
onnor
It was Saturday morning, and five days had passed since I first started watching Alex and Malcolm Shipman. I sat in my car down the street from Malcolm’s house doing surveillance when I caught a break. I watched as Malcolm’s black Tesla Model S 70D backed out of the driveway and started down the street. From the moment I first saw the car, I wondered how someone who worked at an appliance store could afford a car like this, but I pushed it out of my mind. As the car passed me, I noticed he was alone and knew this was my chance. Because I didn’t know where he was going or how long he’d be gone, I waited ten minutes to make sure he wasn’t going to come back for something he might have forgotten. I jumped out of my car, jogged over to the house, and glanced around, taking in my surroundings, before knocking on the front door. I waited to see if Alex would answer and began to wonder if my luck had run out when the door slowly opened a crack.
I stared into questioning brown eyes. “Hi.”
“What do you want?” came the tentative question. I noticed that Alex remained alert and kept his hands on the door, as if knowing he might need to quickly slam it closed. I also noticed something up close that I hadn’t noticed before. He was skinny. Not slim, like a tall boy whose body hadn’t quite caught up with its height yet, but skinny. Like a growing boy who wasn’t eating as much as he should.
“Are you Alex?” I asked softly, trying to project a tone that proclaimed I didn’t pose a threat. My size intimidated most people, so I tried to make myself appear affable, especially to the women and children I encountered in my line of work.
Questioning eyes suddenly turned terrified. He straightened his spine despite the fear pouring out of him. With a contradicting boldness and a lift of his chin that was all Bridget, he answered, “Who wants to know?”
“My name is Connor. I’m friends with your mom.”
He frowned at my answer. “I think you have the wrong person. My mother is dead.”
I cleared my throat. “I meant your birth mother, Bridget Carter. I understand you called her a few days ago. She’s worried sick about you and asked me to make sure you were okay. Were you the one who called her?”
With my words, a new emotion flashed across his face. An emotion that I had no trouble deciphering. Relief. His muscles relaxed, and the tension left his shoulders and legs as I watched him almost collapse against the door. In an instant though, his expression changed. He glanced around warily as if nervous to be seen talking to me.
“You can’t be here when he comes back. I’ll get in trouble. You need to go.” Alex tried to close the door, which I stopped with the flat of my hand.
“What do you mean, you’ll ‘get in trouble’? Alex, are you in danger? Tell me. It’s the only way I can help you. You can trust me.” I encouraged him to talk to me.
“I’m sorry to have bothered her. Please, tell her I’m okay. She doesn’t need to worry about me. It was a mistake to call.” I knew where he got his stubbornness from.
I also knew he wasn’t going to say any more. I kept my one hand on the door and dug into my pocket with the other. I removed my hand from the door, but stuck my foot out to brace against the base of the door while I opened my wallet and pulled out my card. I held it out to him.
“Take this. It’s my card with my contact info, including my personal cell phone number. If you need something, anything, call me. Anytime, day or night. Whatever is going on, Alex, you’re not alone. Like I said before, you can trust me.” I waited patiently to see if he’d accept the offering.
He snatched the card out of my hand and, with a burst of strength, slammed the door shut, catching me off balance enough that I almost fell backward. I sighed in frustration and took off back to my car, hoping that Alex would take my words to heart.
I drove to the gym to work out my frustrations. And to release the inner demons that threatened to overwhelm me after my short talk with Alex. Everything about Alex screamed at me. He put me in mind of that other boy. The one I constantly tried to banish, but who never ceased to show up when I least expected it. Thoughts of him brought up feelings of weakness, insecurity, vulnerability, and worse, shame. Feelings I was uncomfortable with and fought hard to suppress.
I worked out hard, pushing myself past the point of pain and exhaustion, attempting to banish the weakness that, if I let it, would consume me. With sweat pouring down my face and body, I headed to the shower room. I stood in the private shower stall, hand braced on the wall in front of me, head bowed as the scalding hot water sluiced down my body. Without conscious thought, Bridget’s face flashed through my head, causing a groan to escape my lips and my cock to harden. Fuck.
I tortured myself with thoughts of her. She was too good for someone like me, half a man. Someone who couldn’t give her the things she needed. Someone who wanted things she couldn't handle. My body warred with my brain. I knew that nothing was ever going to happen between us, but my body hadn’t caught up with my brain yet. My body didn’t care, it only wanted. I pictured her long legs wrapped around my back as I roughly pounded my cock into her. Her nails scored my back causing blood to rise to the surface as she marked me.
With thoughts of thrusting in and out of her hot pussy running through my head, I moved my free hand down my body to grasp the base of my cock, and I began lightly stroking myself at first. I continued stroking, matching the rhythm of my imaginary scene with Bridget. I pummeled her cunt as my strokes became faster and my grip tightened almost painfully. Up and down I moved my hand and my balls drew up in anticipation. With a final stroke, my cock erupted in an explosion that left me fighting for breath. When the tremors faded, I sagged against the wall of the shower.
After I recovered from my release, I finished washing up and exited the shower. I stood in the empty locker room and stared at my reflection in the mirror. Scars dotted my chest. But those were nothing compared to the scars that graced my back. I tried to picture my body from a woman’s viewpoint. The one and only time I fucked a woman while I was naked, she drew back in disgust at my disfigurement. She tried to hide it, but it was too late. I saw the look she gave me, and it was a look I never forgot and one I ever wanted to see again. After that, I limited my sexual encounters. During the few I did have, I made sure my upper body was covered at all times. Having a woman turn from me in disgust was not an experience I was anxious to repeat.
I tried to satisfy by dominant side with activities that didn’t include intercourse. I was never fully satisfied though. I always held back a part of myself when I played. A part I kept hidden. Mostly out of fear of what I would do if I released it, but partially out of shame.
I quickly dressed, and even though I’d just had a powerful orgasm, it wasn’t enough. I needed more. After so many years of being at someone else’s mercy, I needed to be in control. I needed the rush of power that came from dominating someone. It appeared a visit to Eden was on the schedule for the night. I ignored the thought that maybe I’d see Bridget. I knew she bounced from one Dom to another by choice. She didn't want more than a casual relationship. I knew what I wanted, even if I couldn’t have it. Which meant I needed to guard my heart. I didn’t need to add a broken heart to all the other fucked up things that were wrong with me.
Bridget
Eden. My home away from home. I loved coming here. It was my release after a long week. And this week had been especially taxing. I took in the sights and sounds around me. The purplish glow of the dimmed lights and the moans of satisfied couples echoing in the air comforted me. I glanced around trying to catch a glimpse of my friend, Penny, who had recently married her Dom, Marcus. Instead of her, though, my gaze honed in on Connor leaning against the bar, staring out into the crowd with an indecipherable expression on his face.
During all the times I discreetly watched him in the past, one thing I noticed was that he never talked much. He was more a silent observer, and more than once, I felt his stare boring into me, but whenever I turned to catch his gaze, he always looked away. His actions only made me want to know m
ore about this enigmatic Dom.
Without conscious thought, I made my way over to him. He turned his head when I stepped into his personal space.
“Good evening, Sir,” I purred, causing him to raise a single eyebrow in surprise. I tried to hide my own shock at my flirty tone. Never before had I openly flirted with Connor, and I had definitely never referred to him as Sir in a suggestive way. I had a hard time remembering us ever having a private, one-on-one conversation inside the club. In fact, I couldn’t think of a single one. He never approached me to scene, and we didn’t hang out in the same social circle outside of the club. He didn’t even attend any of the munches. The only real friends we shared were Penny and Marcus, and I spoke to Connor only in passing during their wedding celebration since we had both been in the bridal party. Our longest conversation had taken place in his office at the beginning of the week when I approached him about Alex.
“Bridget,” he responded with a wary nod, confused by my approach. You’re not the only one confused, buddy. I smiled at him and leaned closer, ignoring the warning bells going off inside my head that told me I was biting off more than I could chew. I wasn’t a warning bells kind of woman. I was confident in my sexuality, and I never shied away from what I wanted. And tonight, for some unknown reason, I wanted Connor.
“See anything you like?” I asked, pushing my half exposed tits out for his inspection. His gaze dropped to my chest, and his nostrils flared before he raised his glance back up to my face.
Connor hesitated briefly before speaking. “I think you’re playing with fire, sub.”
I shrugged in nonchalance. “Maybe I want to get burned.”
“You should be careful what you wish for, Bridget. You may not be able to handle what I give you,” he warned.
