Unbreak Him

by Sam E. Kraemer

  It wasn't precisely Kyle's goal to be someone's Dom if he was honest. He didn't know if he could ever tie anyone up in silk and do whatever it was that happened at play parties. Being responsible for another person's mental and physical well-being was a considerable responsibility… not unlike the obligations a person undertook when they had children.

  Of course, there were many similarities between the relationship of a parent/child and a Dom/sub, but at the end of the day, one person was responsible for meeting the needs of the other, and when that person didn't follow the rules which were established for the care and nurturing of the other, a penalty needed to be imposed. Was Kyle ready to create rules and carry out penalties if they weren't followed? That was the million-dollar question.

  The door opened precisely at noon, surprising him. Grant was standing in front of him in jeans and a t-shirt. "You want coffee?" the smaller blond asked.

  "Sure," Kyle responded as he wiped his feet on the welcome mat and walked inside, pushing the door closed behind him.

  He followed Grant into the kitchen, looking around it again. He was quite impressed. His own kitchen was dated and barely usable. Grant's kitchen was like something out of a showcase at an interior design store.

  "This is great. Do you cook?" Kyle asked.

  The blond man turned to look at him and smiled. "I can, as a matter of fact. Are you hungry? We talked about ordering something, but I can make food if you’d like."

  Seeing Grant’s face light up was a surprise, so Kyle wasn't going to dampen his spirit. "Yeah, I can always eat. What's the house specialty?" he teased. Grant Cummings laughed, which surprised Kyle at how happy it sounded. It even made him smile.

  "Um, let's see. Breakfast is about all I can pull off this morning without going to the store. I can make pancakes, eggs any way you'd like, biscuits and gravy, you name it. I learned as a... well, I learned how to cook from my great-aunt. Tell me what you like, and I'll see what I can do," Grant offered.

  Kyle thought back to that crap they passed off as food at Allenwood, and he had one desire. "Can you make French toast? I've always loved it, and since I got… I haven't had it in a long time," Kyle told him.

  Grant smiled. "Sure. So, I'm sorry I flaked yesterday morning. I, uh, I went out the night before, and I got into a fight at a bar. Seems I hit on the wrong…" Kyle's boss began the excuse as he hurried around the kitchen, going through cabinets and drawers like a madman.

  Kyle walked behind the island and stilled Grant. "No more lies. We tell each other the truth, Grant. I think we both know the only way this working relationship can be productive is if we're honest with each other."

  The vulnerability in Grant's face was soul-crushing, and Kyle knew he needed to address it. "I need to know precisely what you need in a working relationship, and the only way I believe we can move forward is if we vow to treat each other with honesty. I'm not going to lie to you. I'm attracted to you, but I'd bet I'm not the only guy at the office who is, so if you're not attracted to me, that's fine.

  "I can be professional in our interactions, and I won't make it awkward for you. I'm not saying I wouldn't be interested in a relationship with you, but I'd need to know what I'm signing up for, just like you would. I'll go first," Kyle offered.

  He saw Grant's face pale a bit as he poured two cups of coffee. "Okay, um, have a seat while I get things together," the man offered.

  Kyle sat down in a comfortable chair at one end of a large center island while Grant went about gathering ingredients to prepare the meal. He made the decision to go first, and if it cost his future at T&A, he’d never regret it.

  "I guess it's best to just tell you outright. I'm a convicted felon. I was in prison for five years for forgery. I got out eighteen-months ago, and I lived in a halfway house for six months until I fulfilled the provisions of my probation. I then moved into a dump in Carroll Park, where I'm the super most of the time. I started at the firm in the mailroom under a state program where the firm received reimbursement for some of my salary since they hired an ex-con.

  "My participation in that program ended six months ago, but Mr. Timmons wanted me to stay on. You know how I ended up working for you. What happened with Lindsey Blume? I heard there was a big fight between the two of you before you fired her," Kyle got out in one long breath.

  He watched as Grant cracked eggs into a bowl before dumping them into a shallow baking dish to begin whisking. He glanced up and grinned widely, which made his whole face light up very attractively. The grin was a little crooked, but it looked good on his handsome face.

  "I get to ask questions first. What did you forge?" Grant asked as he continued to work away.

  Kyle chuckled before he took a sip of his coffee. "My life of crime began in seventh grade when I started forging my mother's signature on detention slips, changing my grades on report cards, and a note from my art teacher stating my mom and dad didn't need to attend my eighth-grade art exhibit. I won an award for a self-portrait I'd done in abstract, and my art teacher mentioned she wanted to speak with my parents that night.

  "I thought she was going to tell them what a pain in the ass I was in class, so I wrote a note telling them they didn't need to attend because I didn't have anything in the exhibit. It turned out she only wanted to recommend an art camp for me to nurture my talent.

  "I got grounded the whole summer for that stunt, and I didn't get to go to any camp. The teacher called my dad at work and basically accused him and my mother of being unsupportive of my blossoming talent. When I got arrested for forging drivers' licenses and various other shit, I guess their low expectations were fulfilled.

  "My dad was instrumental in getting me into a minimum-security prison, and then my parents wrote me off completely. I'd have figured since I was an only, they'd maybe come back around, but my parole officer called them when I was getting released, and they told her I’d died. So much for the unconditional love of family," Kyle explained to Grant.

  "Ah, so that degree you got from Penn State in Graphic Arts and Marketing? Is that forged as well?" Grant asked as he situated bread in the baking dish. He then pulled out a large sheet pan and began spreading a pound of bacon on it.

  Kyle chuckled. "If I'd have forged it, it would have been a Master's instead of a Bachelor's. I was able to finish my degree online while I was serving my sentence."

  Grant nodded. "Did you have a prison job? I don't know if I've ever met an ex-con. How bad was it in prison?"

  Kyle figured Grant was simply buying time to keep from answering the questions presented to him about whatever the fuck was going on that had Grant walking around, resembling a human piñata.

  "I was in with white-collar criminals… embezzlers, securities fraud, shit of the sort, and they weren't a very rowdy bunch. The only time they got riled up was when the satellite went out, and they couldn't get CNBC on television to see what the market had done that day. And, yes, I had a prison job. I worked for a catalog company, processing telephone orders for home furnishings. It's like they say, you never know who's on the other end of the phone line," Kyle explained.

  Grant laughed a little. "So, can you forge credit cards?"

  Kyle was taken aback by the comment. It reminded him of being strip searched every day when he left the call center. It was their way of attempting to prevent anything of the sort from happening and reminding the inmates they were in prison because they’d made mistakes.

  Nobody seemed to think they were smart enough to memorize information, but Kyle hadn’t even considered doing anything illegal. He’d left his life of crime behind when the judge banged his gavel, and he was never looking back.

  Apparently, Kyle's lack of response had startled Grant. "I-I'm sorry. That was insensitive of me.”

  Kyle shook it off and focused on the man in front of him. "No, that's okay. I think they knew none of us would be so stupid as to try anything. We were all just waiting to get out of there and hoping to salvage some sort of a new life with whatever pieces
of the old one we had left.

  "I remember some of the guys crying every day after being strip searched, threatening to file complaints with the Geneva Convention or some shit for cruel and unusual punishment. The guards had to do it to ensure the inmates weren't sneaking stuff out up their asses before we left the call center.

  "I sure as fuck didn’t hate it if I got the right guard. There was one super-hot guy, and he and I used to get it on in the laundry room when he worked nights. I doubt he told his wife he liked to blow an inmate at least once a week, but I took what I could get. Anyway, after I walked out of that place, I told myself I was going to do things that counted. I was going to contribute to the world positively, but I have no idea what that might be.

  "I'm not some altruistic sap who thinks I can invent a way to turn the Ganges River into Evian, but if somebody does it, I'll advertise the shit out of it. Now, enough about me. Let's talk about why you look like you were playing Lacrosse with a group of middle-school, mean girls," Kyle prodded.

  Grant snickered. "You have a very colorful vocabulary. I've heard you on the phone, and it makes me laugh sometimes. Do you like cut-up fruit or maple syrup with your French toast?"

  "Butter and syrup, but one piece with grape jelly. I know it's weird, but when I was a kid, I loved it. I'll eat cut-up fruit if you feel like making it. Actually, if you have fruit, I'll cut it up for you," Kyle offered.

  "You know how to use a knife without cutting off a finger?" Grant asked with the smile that Kyle was beginning to love.

  "Try me, boss," he teased back.

  He didn't expect Grant to wheel on him. "I'm not your boss. I mean, you work with me, but I'm not…" he began, before he shut up and went to the fridge.

  Kyle sighed, because it was time to address the prevalent issue head-on. "Is that how you and Cooper worked together, thinking of yourselves as equals? You need to tell me what the fuck happened, Grant. He could have fucked you over so royally if that stupid drive had fallen into Reggie Snow's hands."

  Grant stopped moving and turned to Kyle, offering a distant smile. "God, it would have been embarrassing, but Reggie wouldn't have known it was Cooper's dick I was sucking. Those pictures were at Cooper’s house, not at the office. I'd never risk my career by doing anything of the sort at the office," Grant assured.

  Kyle took the peaches from the bowl and peeled them as he listened. "Okay, so what happened with Lindsey?"

  "She's the sister of someone I used to know. She just graduated from college, so I gave her a job, hoping maybe I could change…" he alluded, which wasn't a good enough excuse for Kyle.

  Kyle held up his hand. "That's not good enough, Grant. Vague answers aren't going to cut it. Marion Herrington is holding my job in the mailroom, and as much as I'd like to move up the food chain, I'm not going to work for someone I can't trust.

  "I just told you enough shit about me to make me the laughingstock of the firm. If you don't trust me with some information regarding your situation, then we really have nothing to work with, do we?" Kyle quickly sliced the peach in half and flipped out the pit, quickly carving the flesh into slices.

  He saw Grant swallow. "Lindsey is the younger sister of a former boyfriend. I hoped by hiring her, maybe he and I could get back together, but it didn't work out that way. She found out that Cooper and I were involved, and she got upset because Cooper is bi, and the two of them were also involved. That's what that drive was about. They were hoping to blackmail me, but you weren't a part of the plan."

  Kyle continued to peel. "What did she think I'd do with those photos?"

  "I assume she thought you'd take them to your supervisor, who would take them to Human Resources, and I'd be fired from the firm for sexual harassment or something. She and Cooper had planned it together. I figured it out when I checked their e-mail accounts. Cooper thought if I got fired, he'd get my job.

  "Supposedly, Cooper's coming back on Tuesday. I'm not sure how to handle it," Grant told him.

  Kyle nodded. "This former boyfriend, how long were you together?"

  Grant pulled out a large griddle, placing it over the left, front and back burners to heat. "Um, three years, exclusively, then the last year or so, not exclusively," Grant explained.

  Kyle pondered the statement. "So, um, you two took another lover? I've heard people do that sometimes to spice things up. How was it?"

  Grant spread butter over the griddle and looked up. "Not well. If both people in the relationship agree they want a third, then yes, it can spice things up, but I wasn't aware there was a third in our relationship until I got dumped."

  "Oh, I'm, uh, I'm sorry he cheated. That sounds awful," Kyle offered.

  "Yes, well, I didn't fade off gracefully, as he hoped I would. I'm still trying to figure it out… where I went wrong, and why he decided he needed someone else. I thought maybe if I hired Lindsey, she could offer some insight, but then she fell for Cooper, and he was just using my grief to get me into a compromising position. I was a fool," Grant told him as he continued to work.

  Kyle continued peeling peaches. "So, who's beating you, Grant? I know you're leaving out significant pieces of information. I'll sign a non-disclosure agreement if you need me to, but I promise I won't betray your confidence, okay? I've told you everything about myself, and I'll call Marion Herrington and have her sit down with you and explain it to you if you think I'm lying. Like I said, I won't lie to you, but please don't lie to me."

  Kyle watched as Grant reached into the baking dish for the bread, which had been soaking in the egg mixture. The handsome man spread them on the griddle before he washed his hands. He took a sip of his coffee before opening the oven door to pull out a rack and turn the bacon. Once he was finished, Grant shoved the rack back into the oven and closed the door. He reached for the coffee pot to refill Kyle's mug, not looking him in the eye.

  Finally, after at least two minutes, Grant stood at the counter with his hands spread. "I don't know how much you know about BDSM, but I've trained with a Master, and I'm a submissive. I choose to surrender my will to a Dominant, and I've been into the lifestyle since college.

  “I thought I had a permanent Dom. Kade said we'd grow old together, and he encouraged me to try things outside my comfort zone, early on in our relationship. As I’m sure you can guess, I'm shy by nature, but Kade wanted me to get over it. He said it would be good for my personal growth, so I agreed to try.

  “He pushed me to work hard at my job so I could be promoted out of the graphics pool into an Assistant Associate Project Manager, and I was assigned to work under a nice man named Riley Wilson. He was my mentor back then, and he taught me a lot. Between Riley and Kade, I learned how to pitch to clients with poise. I learned to be confident in my abilities, and I grew as a person as well as an ad man.

  "About the same time you were getting out of prison, Kade and I went to a huge party in New York. I didn't want to go because we were very busy at work, but it wasn't my choice. Kade was my Master, and it was what he wanted, so we went.

  "The first night was an informal cocktail event, and I owed Riley a presentation on Monday, so Kade went without me. He came back to the hotel long after I'd gone to sleep on the floor, which was my punishment for not going to the party with him. He wasn't mad, per se, but I had disappointed him, and I was owed the punishment," Grant admitted, which explained the yoga mat and sheet on the floor at the end of the beautiful bed in his bedroom.

  "Did Kade live here with you?" Kyle asked as he watched Grant sprinkle something on the peaches before putting them into the refrigerator.

  Grant glanced up. "No. I moved here after he broke up with me. We lived together at his place on West Washington. He had a playroom there, and I had a bedroom and bathroom suite. I loved it there, but after Kade met Madison, things changed."

  Kyle held up his hand. "Madison… boy or girl?" The name was unisex.

  Grant sighed. "I thought it was a guy, and I was prepared to compete, but Kade was bisexual, and Madison was a beautiful
woman. She was twenty-three, just graduated from Emory in Atlanta with a degree in art history. Kade runs a gallery on Second Street. Anyway, she was younger, prettier, and newer to the lifestyle, so she intrigued him. I no longer did.

  "I should have known he wasn't going to New York every weekend because he was promoting the gallery, but I didn't want to believe he'd cheat on me. I thought we'd built a strong bond, but apparently, only I built a bond.

  "He came home one Monday evening and told me he wanted to break up, and I needed to move out. He was in love with another sub he'd taken on the side, and they were going to begin a life together," Grant explained as he flipped the bread on the griddle, finally placing it on a large plate before covering it with a clean, cotton towel.

  "I thought we already had a life together, but I was stupidly trusting. He had my things packed up and waiting for me when I got home from work on Tuesday, and that was it. I tried to talk to him, even suggesting that he have two subs for a while, but he told me he was thinking about getting out of the lifestyle. He said he'd wasted three years with me, and he wanted a vanilla relationship with Madison, going forward. Kids, house, dog, the whole nine yards.

  "I haven't been great about letting him go as I’d promised I’d do when we began our relationship. I got drunk on Thursday night and showed up at his place again. She answered the door, and I lost my shit. He actually strong-armed me out of the building and shoved me out to the curb where I fell. That's how I got the busted lip, black eye, and a bruised jaw. I guess I only have myself to blame," Grant stated as he placed more of the soggy bread on the griddle.

  Kyle cleaned up the mess he'd made with the peaches and went to the sink to push the peach skins down the disposal, tossing the pits into the trash. "Did you know the peach belongs to the almond family?" He glanced over his shoulder to see Grant staring at him with a raised eyebrow. "I saw it on TV. Anyway, so that explains the face, but the back, Grant?"