“That cannot happen again,” I sternly reply. “She could have hit her head.”
“True,” he consoles as Kaci crosses her legs, tucking into a tight ball. “But it didn’t happen this time.”
“Then no more unsupervised baths,” I scold, feeling like neither one of them are listening. “None!”
Kaci sighs as Jack gives her a solemn gaze, and I suddenly take the third wheel. I dash through the living room, grabbing the whiskey bottle, and heading out to the balcony. I cannot believe we are fighting about this, too.
After lighting a smoke, I proceed to gulp down a good amount of whiskey as I listen to the revelry beneath me. I’m twenty. I should be in the crowd. I should be out having fun. I should be getting drunk and having my dick sucked by a random stranger or maybe even enough for a rainbow.
Something. Anything. Other than being a nursemaid to my dying wife. This isn’t fair. Or right. And I don’t blame her, but God played a cruel joke with this one.
“… How is she?” I hear the sweet drawl from the balcony beside me. “I saw Jack come in a rush.”
“She fainted, planted herself in a mess of a flooded bathroom,” I reply, refusing to look in her direction. It’s bad enough to hear her southern charms from two feet apart and almost twenty feet up.
I hear the flick of her lighter as she sighs frustrated, “Shit.” Goddammit. I pop the Zippo and lean across the rail. Her eyes blink quick to me and look away as she exhales, “Need help cleaning up?”
“I need more than that, and I think you know it.”
A delicate smile lifts upon her lips. “I do know,” Jaid whispers, reaching out and touching my fingers as I lean on the rail with my elbows. “If you only knew how much I wanted you to crawl over here and kiss me,” she pauses as our eyes meet. “Everywhere.”
“I would empty my damn bank account for that.”
Her brows perk up as her lips purse sexily. “That’s not necessary, Sir—ever.”
“Want some?” I growl, extending the bottle across our distance.
Her fingers lap over mine and a surge pulses from my hand to my cock. She takes a swallow equal to my own and doesn’t even flinch. I’m oddly turned on by a woman who can drink and still behave—within reason.
There is a fine line, and that was the number one reason I didn’t want to bother with a fresh sub at Juliet. I’d take her for drinks, and she’d end up acting stupid, making my fledgling Dominant look weak. I didn’t want to mess with girls who couldn’t keep their shit together. They were nothing more than accidents waiting to happen. Besides all of that – and maybe this sounds arrogant – I’m better than that.
Handing the bottle back to me, she says, “Thank you.”
“Have you seriously never been with a guy?” I brazenly ask as I puff on another smoke. “I mean fuck.”
She laughs. “I know what you mean. And no.”
“Are you saving it?”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Not at all, I just haven’t found one worthy of my holy palace.”
What I wouldn’t give to pay my respects there.
“Save your sacred temple for me,” I mumble, not thinking about what I am asking. “I’ll do it justice.”
“Why do you think I keep hitting on you?” she asks as her astonished expression floats with the surprise of my words. “That night last year when we messed around, I knew.”
The idea that this girl has been saving her virginity for me is a humbling one. She knows I can’t do anything about it now, but there is a future after…and I’m an asshole for thinking that. If Kaci has instilled one thing in me, it’s that I cannot stop living. Although, there are moments when I have my doubts.
“It was good,” I remind, thinking about the night I escaped Kaci’s grasp to find solace with Jaid’s lips around my dick. “You’re an incredible girl.”
“I want to be yours.”
I’m not exactly sure how she means those words, but regardless, my erection is hard as stone. I would leap this space between our balconies if I thought I could fuck her and get away with it, but I know my limits. Kaci may encourage me to partake of others, but not including Jaid. Despite how Kaci keeps pushing us closer, I know without a doubt if I ended up alone between Jaid’s thighs there would be hell to pay. So much so, I might miss Kaci’s exit.
The door opens behind me, and Jaid swiftly disappears into her apartment keeping our secret love affair safe. I smirk and gaze longingly at the bar across the street as Kaci lays her hand on my back.
“Why don’t we go to Juliet tomorrow night?”
I give her the are-you-fucking-serious stare and shake my head. “No.”
“But you could dance for me…and we could remember who we once were.”
I chuckle. “You don’t want that.”
“Yeah, I do,” she contends as I take her in my arms. “I want to see what I have built. I need to walk the memory one last time.”
Tears threaten as my erratic breath warns of the impending collapse. “I’m not ready to say goodbye.”
“I’m sorry…”
“It fucking sucks,” I mutter, pulling her closer to my body. Her tiny frame feels so fragile in my hands like I could crush her with the lightest of hugs. “I can’t play that role right now…”
Her golden green eyes peer up to mine. “You don’t get that choice, Pretty Boy.”
Knowing she is using her best head games, I sigh. “It isn’t fair.”
“Show me the monster I have built,” she urges with a wide smile. “We can go to our dungeon.”
God, I love that smile. God, I’m going to miss the fuck out of you even though you are irritating as hell. God, I hate you. God, I love you. God, please don’t go. Please, take me instead. Please, I’ll beg. I’ll bargain. Let me go before she does, so I don’t have to feel this hurt.
Unable to hold back the tears, I let them fall and drip into her blonde tangles. “But right now, why don’t I go take care of that massive pack you have going on in them jeans?”
I snarl and continue to cry. She has moments when her Dominant is impeccable as the true essence of a Master is to serve and provide to the sub. No one has ever done it better, or quite as uniquely as my wife, the lovely Mistress Pixie. Few people understand the concept of Dominant servitude because it sounds outlandishly backward. The sub leads with the Dom’s encouragement, but ultimately the best Masters are also, the best caretakers.
I won’t win the fight with her right now. I’m too weak by the waiting, Jaid, and the future I don’t care to participate in without Kaci. I merely say, “Yes, Ma’am.”
4. Choose Your Battles
Saturday, December 11
21 days before…
Walking into Juliet feels awkward, like why are we here?
Isn’t this circus just a waste of our precious time?
The days count. This is not my choice, but maybe that is Kaci’s point—to keep living until you’re not. I reluctantly head back to the dressing rooms as the lightbulb shines on her motivations. If we go home and sit around, what are we doing? Waiting for her to die.
She doesn’t want that. And neither do I.
With a newfound focus, I decide to make every second count and breathe life into us even in our worst moments. I wish Jaid were here, but she hasn’t received her clearance from Sibyl for Juliet yet. With no chance of seeing her, the best I can hope for is a visit from the good Dr. Mierne Risen, the staff psychologist. We’ve been fucking since I met Kaci. Mierne sends money to my account; I do the deed. It works.
After all, I’m still Sal Raniero, formerly known as the alpha male submissive of Juliet. My entertaining skills have no limit for the right price. I still have a few clients, but most of my work comes down to spending time with the ladies and listening to their woes.
After several hours of hearing their heartaches, they bounce on the Italian bad boy cock, pay me, and we call it a night. This is what Kaci built me for—extracting information from the rich b
itches. I had the skills from Juliet and with the extensive training at Sibyl, I had learned to sniff out the seedy deals with lightning speed.
My job was on her team, but with the reemergence of the crab—her duties were cut short. She had a few clients and had just started to infiltrate the high dollar ones when the diagnosis came. I was her replacement and her final case. I always knew, but sometimes I feel more like a case than a husband.
I change quickly into a pair of leather pants, and I’m fastening all the wraps around my wrists and biceps when the clutch of my fetish struts in the door. Serene is wearing a tight, full body red leather suit with her breasts bulging out of the top.
Sitting on the bench, I smirk. “Stephanie…”
“Better not call me by my real name when we get out on stage,” she warns with a flick of her brow. I’m about the only one on the planet who can get away with calling Stephanie Serene Smith-Stanton by her given name. She and her infamous red hair and superior talents go by Cardinal-S or Serene, but never, ever Stephanie. Except for me.
But I’m special.
I notice her favorite bullwhip, Sares, in her hand. The ten-foot-long, sixty-four plait of red and black kangaroo hide was threaded with her childhood horse’s hair, integrating into the handle as well as the cracker. The whip was a work of art, and rarely, did she ever bring it out to play in a session. “Mistress Serene to you, Kid.”
Butterflies fill my belly as I know why she is doing it tonight. This night could be Kaci’s last at Juliet. It is significant and an essential part of our goodbye and subsequently, our healing. Serene’s show of respect is so admirable that I’m left speechless.
Finally, I mumble out, “Why are you here and not with Charlotte?”
She smiles. “I brought her with when I found out you were coming.”
“How did you know?”
“Your wife,” she says, drawing her finger beneath my chin. “Look, Sally, I know you aren’t working the rounds much, and I won’t ask. Tonight’s performance is a display of erotic masochism. Nothing more.”
I flare my eyes up to meet hers. “How much are you giving me?”
“Not too much,” she gently states. “I don’t want any possible targets in the audience knowing how much you can withstand.”
“What if…” I close my eyes as I try and resist the lure of her heady narcotic.
She picks up my unease and fills in the blanks. “If you need more, come out to the farmhouse,” she whispers, lowering her lips close to mine. “And I will provide the pain you seek.”
“She’s going to go.”
“Yes, she is,” Serene says, maintaining her strong-willed demeanor. “You cannot stop it. But you can let those who love you help through this period of transition. It’s not going to be easy, babe.”
Her lips press against mine as I squeeze her hand. We part with an understanding that we do what is necessary because there is no other choice. I can tell—Serene isn’t looking forward to this any more than I am. This will be difficult and hard. “Thank you.”
“Are you ready to do this?”
“No,” I say with a smirk and laugh. “But yes, Kaci needs this.”
Standing up, I feel her hand grip into my bicep. “Sally, when we are finished…”
Putting my clothes in the locker, I interrupt, “I’m going to the dungeon with my wife.”
“If that doesn’t work out, the sex kitten therapist is in her office.”
The fact a backup plan even exists for my getting off is a bad decision made by someone other than me.
I blame my motherfucking bride for wanting to keep my ass happy.
Swoosh. Pop. Swoosh. Pop.
I wish I could get into this public little whipping party we are having, but unfortunately, I cannot. The welts cannot overcome the ache in my heart. The worst part is I know Serene could get me out of this mental loop, but it won’t be with a showcase such as this. There will be faster lashes, stinging every inch of my skin. Blood will surface; the pain in my heart will subside. And I can once again be a happy Sal.
I know this all too well. I’ve rinsed and repeated the behavior for years now. I get trapped—obsessing over those things I cannot change. I don’t want courage or wisdom to know the difference. I want a physical pain worse than a mental one. And that makes everything—better.
Pop. Swoosh. Pop. Swoosh.
I’m losing my mind with every draw as our display is nothing more than a farce. I yearn to scream, “Fucking beat my hide, woman!”
But…well, I’m better behaved than that.
In the audience, I spot Kaci and her cat ears as she stands on a chair cheering me on. Yay, go me. I smirk, but it quickly fades as Jack lifts her up on his shoulder. My jaw tightens. I know where they are going as I watch them disappear. Dungeon room #411—our playroom.
I discreetly lift my right hand at Serene, and she halts her assault on my body. I wave at the crowd, take a bow for our demonstration, and run as fast as I can. With the fresh air on my slightly raw flesh, I leave my shit in the locker and sprint through the campus. Heading to the main office, I take the steps two at a time. I try the doors, but they are locked. I slide over to the keypad and punch in my code.
I’m not just any student.
I am Juliet.
I define the whole fucking thing. And owner Anna Ford knows it as I’m her spoiled brat. Something about the charm of my young man to her seventy won over her adoration years ago. I had bonus points. I kept cookies in the jar. I saved every fucking penny. I was good.
Was.
Before the storm of Kaci hit my heart and I fell in love with a girl I could never actually have.
In the shadows of the alcove, I hear her unmistakable laughter as I watch them prove my theory correct. “Motherfucker.”
This wasn’t about her seeing what she built in me; this was about her subbing down for her former Master. They planned this, and I’m beyond hurt as I stomp into the building and head to the office. Again, I tap in my code.
“Fucking whore,” I mumble as I quietly sink into the secluded area. “I’ll show you. I’ll go get buried balls deep in Mierne.”
I expect Mierne’s door to be locked, but for some reason, I try the knob. It moves in my hand, and I slip inside unannounced. The back of her large office chair faces me as I decide to make an entrance and undo the front of my pants with the suggestion of my cock. I’m not out there, but it’s enough to spur on further investigation. I’m angry at Kaci, but it doesn’t matter. The thoughts of fucking Mierne bring up a semi-quick, and I know it won’t take long to go full throttle. Nothing like a feisty Brit to raise the flag.
I sneak up behind the leather chair and spin her to face me. “Dear God, that’s…impressive,” Georgia stutters out as her eyes widen.
Oh, shit.
Georgia Wills is Mierne’s secretary – and an insider with the Sibyl society – and right now, her face is less than a foot away from my dick. Mortified and embarrassed, I keep failing at every step. “Jesus, fuck I am so sorry.”
“Salvatore,” she tenderly says, reaching to grab both my hands before I retreat. The amazement washes over her face as the horror comes over mine. I’m standing here with my dick out in front of Georgia, who I screwed senseless before I was married. Before I lost myself. “Calm down; it’s not like we’re strangers.”
Her reassurance soothes me as I realize she may not be what I originally came for, but she isn’t Jaid either, which means she is on the accepted list. Or, I can at least make an argument for such, right?
“You want to use that thing,” she says with a smirk as her heavily made-up eyes lure beneath the red cat eye frames. “I could help you forget about whatever is bothering you.”
“You mean Kaci…”
“Is she the source of your glum face?” Georgia asks, grazing her fingers over my arms.
She is a beautiful woman. I understand most guys wouldn't think that, but I'm not just any guy. And what I see is a sensual goddess, beg
ging for my hands to touch every curve. I think little of the size and focus on the spirit. I've had plenty of what society believes is the perfect figure, and I find it incredibly annoying to be out with one of the clients who only eat two bites of lettuce. That isn't living. That's starving. And if a girl is focusing on food, her mind isn't in the game I want to play—the sexual hunger.
So, I like shapely women and Asian women, which only encourages the obsession of Iris Kettles. Unfortunately, that bitch is seriously taken, so I'm going to have to settle and right now, Georgia looks damn good. I'm not thinking about what Kaci is going to do because I don't care. She's off doing her thing with Jack, and I'm supposed to turn the other cheek, so why can’t I have a little fun?
There's a cuteness which exists in Georgia which strangely reminds me of Kaci. She's eccentric and vibrant and alive and fun just like Kaci used to be before rounds of chemo and drugs and…
Life took hers away.
I hook my hand underneath her arm, helping her stand. Slowly, I begin the descent of undoing the buttons of her shirt. I've been here before. I know this flesh, and there is comfort in that. I understand what she has to offer. It won't be the best fuck, but it certainly won't be the worst. Anything right now is better than nothing at all. I need something to keep my mind off of Kaci, more precisely I need something to keep my mind off her cancer.
It sounds like it would be such an easy thing to forget for the sake of time. But I can’t. I can’t wipe it away and eliminate its third-party presence in our lives. Kaci's illness never leaves my mind as it stages, trapping inside the deep recesses and firing up in the most unexpected of ways and the least anticipated of times.
Leaning in slowly, I bring my lips to meet hers. She's sweet as candy as I aim for a sugar high. My tongue swirls against hers and her fingers reach to cup my hard cock.
“Let me,” she breathes into my mouth before lowering to her knees. “I can make you forget.”
With a snarl, I say, “About?”
“Everything.”
Vote Then Read: Volume II Page 90
