by Ivy Nelson
He needed to talk to Gary again.
“Hey, it was good to see you tonight,” his friend said when he answered. “I noticed Carrie left with you. What’s up with that?”
“Long story man, but she’s why I’m calling. Do you really think it’s wise to let a journalist into your parties?”
Gary was quiet for a moment. Finally, he said, “She’s not Gigi man. Don’t compare her.”
Peter felt his fists clench. “I’m not. I just wonder if it’s really wise in a town like D.C. to knowingly let a journalist in.”
“First of all, you’re crossing a line. You didn’t know that I knew she was a journalist. You could have just outed her in a way she didn’t want to be outed. I know what she does for a living because she doesn’t hide it, but you had no way of knowing that.”
Peter closed his eyes. Gary was right. That was a serious fuck up on his part. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s cool. I understand. Your history with Gigi makes you wary and with good reason. But if it makes you feel better, Carrie has been coming to Edith’s parties for years and don’t forget that she was strung up naked and letting Reggie beat the shit out of her. I know some reporters go far for a story, but I don’t think you have anything to worry about there.”
Peter laughed as he began to see his own ridiculousness. “Thanks man, you’re right. I just get crazy sometimes.”
“So, did you know her before tonight?” Gary asked.
“I did. Like I said, it’s a long story, but she’s actually staying with me right now.”
Gary whistled. “Wasn’t expecting that. What does mama Mercer think of your new roommate?”
Peter growled. “Leave her out of this. First of all, it’s not like that. We aren’t even friends. We’re just collaborating on something and second, my mother doesn’t need to know anything. Let her enjoy their Hawaii retirement in peace.”
“Whoa. You’re collaborating with a journalist? Are you ill?”
“Bite me Gary.”
“You’re so not my type dude. Really, I’m glad you’re able to be civil with a reporter man. Means you might be finally moving on and you’ll lighten the fuck up.”
Changing the subject, Gary said, “Did you ever talk to Reggie or Cannon? What did you want them for anyway?”
Damn it. Peter had been so caught up in the surprise of finding Carrie at the party that he never even remembered he wanted to talk to Reggie.
“Nothing important,” he lied. “Just trying to touch base with a couple of the people from Colombia on something.”
“I was in Colombia. What’s up man?”
“I honestly have no idea, so I don’t want to say anything. Ever been to a place called the Doll House Cabaret?”
“Have I ever,” Gary said with a chuckle. “What does that have to do with Colombia?”
Peter sighed. He shouldn’t have said anything. “Like I said, I really don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Maybe I’ll be able to fill you in later.”
When the call ended, he winced when he saw the time. He really needed to get some sleep. Carrie Davenport was proving bad for his health. Meandering into the kitchen for a glass of water, he stopped when he saw he wasn’t alone. Carrie stood at the fridge in a pair of tiny shorts and a thin tank top. As he was about to leave and go to his bedroom, she said, “Do you have anything besides vegetables and chicken in here?”
He chuckled. “Sorry, I’m fresh out of Red Bull.”
“Bah. I don’t want to stay up all night, I’m just starving.”
“You’re welcome to order takeout. Some places around here deliver late. I have to get my ass to sleep though.” Peter opened the top drawer near the stove and tossed some takeout menus on the counter.
“Sure you don’t want an egg roll?” she asked as she perused the menu collection.
“That shit will clog your arteries woman. I’m going to bed. Are you going to work in the morning or are you staying here?”
“I’m taking the day off.”
“Fine but you can’t leave the apartment. I still don’t think it’s safe for you despite the little stunt you pulled tonight,”
“Still want to spank me for it?
He hadn’t been expecting that response.
“And what if I said yes?”
She chuckled. “I would probably turn you down. I’m not really submissive, so bad girl spankings don’t really do it for me.”
“You are a very fascinating woman Carrie Davenport. I would love to continue this conversation, but I really need to sleep.”
He said goodnight again and wandered into his bedroom feeling dazed. This had been a weird night. He was halfway asleep when he realized he never got his water.
Chapter Eleven
Are you going to spank me if I take a cab to work?
Carrie grinned as she hit send on the text message. It was nearly noon, and she was going crazy in Peter’s apartment. The man didn’t have cable so her only option was the local channels which meant daytime soaps.
Dear God woman. Don’t send me texts like that at work. And yes.
She felt her face heat. Yes, wasn’t the answer she had been expecting. When her mind drifted to thoughts of what Peter might be like as a dominant, she cursed herself. She was a masochist, not a submissive, there was a difference. Still, ever since his threat, she couldn’t stop imagining scenarios where Peter spanked her.
I do need to go to work. Tom wants to talk to me.
Her phone rang.
“I thought you said texting was better,” she said when she answered.
“Are you lying to me about work again?” he asked, ignoring her observation.
“No.” And she wasn’t, Tom had asked her for an update. Peter didn’t need to know that was something she could handle on the phone.
“If I find out you are, do I get to spank you?”
“I swear I’m not.”
He was quiet for a minute. “Use a ride service and text me the driver’s license plate and name.”
Carrie rolled her eyes. “Dear God, you’re overprotective.”
“That’s your only option. That or stay home.”
She scowled. Her fun conversation had gone south in a hurry. “Fine,” she said with a huff. Then she hung up on him just to make herself smile again.
A half hour later, an Uber driver dropped her at the Washington Post. Inside, she went to Tom’s office, but he had stepped out for a meeting, so she got to work on her article about the anti-sex trafficking bill. Even if there was a sex trafficking ring at the Doll House Cabaret, her research into the bill was still valid and she needed to write the article.
When she got to her desk, she pulled up the CIA website, intent on submitting a Freedom of Information Act request for declassified intelligence on sex trafficking in Colombia. While it was unlikely to reveal anything about Corbit Upwood, Peter, or the mystery tipster, knowing something about the region may give her a better idea of where to start digging into the potential missing women.
After she sent the faxed request, along with a request for expedited processing, she sat down to dig into her original article. As she was wading through interview notes, her desk phone rang. She jumped and stared at the blinking lights that told her the call came in from reception.
“Washington Post, Carrie Davenport speaking,”
“Miss Davenport, I’m Jared Turner and I’m calling from the attorney general’s office. I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time.”
“Absolutely, what can I help you with?” Carrie dug through her mental filing cabinet. She couldn’t remember contacting the AG’s office for a comment on anything recently.
“I’m calling to advise you to drop whatever you’re working on that involves sex trafficking in Colombia, or anywhere else for that matter. I can’t tell you why, but I can tell you that it’s in the interest of national security.”
“First of all, how do you know about
my investigation? Second, I’m going to need more than an unverifiable phone call before I drop my investigation. I’m a journalist and I’m protected by the constitution.”
The man on the other line sighed. “I was hoping to avoid an official cease and desist letter, but I can see you’re going to make things difficult. I have no problem making things difficult for you as well Carrie.” The way he said her name sent a shiver up Carrie’s spine. This was more than an official phone call from the government, it was another threat. One that Carrie didn’t appreciate.
“I’m just doing my job. I would advise you not to threaten me.”
“And I’m just doing mine. You should know, I don’t make idle threats. Have a good day, Miss Davenport.” The line went dead, and Carrie stared at her phone in disbelief. Had that just happened?
Something wasn’t right about the phone call though. Not that it was beyond the government to threaten people, but she had barely submitted her FOIA request an hour ago. Those things took at least ten days or more to process. But that was the only thing that Carrie could think of that tipped them off. Was the caller really from the Attorney General’s office? Or was it someone from the CIA, working for Corbit Upwood? Carrie picked up her phone and dialed reception.
“Emily, it’s Carrie Davenport. I have a weird question. I just got a call that looks like you transferred to me. Does your system log numbers?”
“It sure does. What do you need?”
“Just the number from the call that just came in. I’ll come up there and get it from you in a minute.”
Slipping on her shoes, she jogged to the reception desk and took the number that Emily had written on a sticky note.
“Thanks girl, I owe you.”
After several reverse number lookups, she couldn’t find the number listed anywhere associated with the justice department. A look at the justice department phone directory told her that this number didn’t come from them. Or if it did, the caller used a cell phone.
A look at the CIA website told her it probably didn’t come from there either.
While it proved nothing, it certainly gave credence to Carrie’s belief that the caller was not a government official. Or at the very least wasn’t acting on official government business when he made the call.
She slipped the sticky note into her briefcase. Maybe Peter would know how to track down the owner of the phone number.
There were people at the paper who could help her, but she wasn’t quite ready to involve more people in this right now, especially with the threats she had received. It made sense to keep the circle small.
She went back to work on her article, but it was hard to keep her mind off of the mysterious phone call.
Fifteen minutes later, Tom called her into his office. He sounded tense.
“Hey Tom, what’s wrong?” she asked when she stepped into his office.
“I just got a call from the Justice Department.”
Carrie put one hand on her hip. “Let me guess, they want you to bench me and stop me from running anything on sex trafficking.”
Tom’s eyebrows rose. “Exactly. How’d you know?”
“They called me first. It seemed fishy to me though.”
“I don’t know Carrie. They were citing national security. That’s not something we want to mess with.”
“Oh, come on Tom. I submitted an FOIA request to the CIA for declassified intelligence. You really think that’s vital to national security? This doesn’t scream cover-up to you? Because it sure as hell screams cover-up to me.”
Tom leaned back in his chair. “I just think maybe we should back off. This isn’t time sensitive.”
“Not time sensitive? Women’s lives are at stake Tom.”
“So, turn over what you have to the FBI, but I think as a paper we should walk away from this.”
“Tom, this isn’t like you. What’s up? You’re not one to back off a story just because it’s going to ruffle feathers.”
“I don’t know, Carrie. Maybe we’re ruffling the wrong feathers this time. I want you to back off this. There are half a dozen other things you could work on.”
Carrie paced in front of her boss’s desk. This wasn’t right. “Is that an order or a request? I’m begging you let me stay on this until we get something official from the government. I got the number from the call I got and I’m telling you it wasn’t an official justice department phone call. If it was, they’ll send the letter. If it wasn’t, they were just trying to scare me and that means I’m on the right track.”
Tom put his head in his hands. “You’re going to make me go bald Carrie. Fine. But the second you get any kind of official letter, you’re dropping this, end of story. Run everything by me first.”
“Sure Tom. You have my word.”
“And for God’s sake, don’t go back to that strip club.”
“Done,” Carrie said in what she hoped was a convincing tone.
With a heavy sigh, Tom dismissed her, and she went back to her cubicle where she sent a text to Peter.
Things have been interesting here. We have a lot to talk about tonight.
• • •
Peter read Carrie’s text and wondered what had happened. He also found himself bombarded with strong emotions as he thought of the pretty blonde.
It had been less than twenty-four hours since he’d seen her naked and attached to the suspension frame in Gary’s backyard, and try as he might, he couldn’t keep the image out of his head.
Intense play at kink parties didn’t bother him, and he had watched couples do things that were even more painful than what Reggie had done to Carrie. but for some reason, their scene wouldn’t leave his head. He hated the idea that jealousy was the reason it bothered him, but he had a feeling that’s exactly what it was.
In ten minutes, he had to get his head on straight and lead a transport from the CIA building to a meeting at the White House. After that, he could take off for the night.
An idea occurred to him and he pulled out his phone again.
“Peter, I get to talk to you twice in less than twenty-four hours? It must be my lucky day,” Gary mocked when he answered.
“Are you busy in about an hour?”
“I’m running around a damn shopping mall with Edith and Evie right now.”
“Actually, I could use Edith’s input too. Can you lose Evie and meet me for dinner at seven-thirty?”
“Hang on a minute,” Gary said, and Peter heard his muffled voice talking to Edith. When he came back, he said, “Hey that works. Evie has to go to work soon anyway.”
They settled on a place and Peter ended the call to get ready for transporting Upwood.
When the director was safely inside the White House, Peter left and called Carrie.
“Hey you,” she answered.
He frowned at the phone. She sounded chipper, much like she had when she’d lied to him about being at the party.
“You didn’t sneak out of work again, did you? You sound entirely too happy.”
Carrie laughed. “Not at all. It just hasn’t been an awful day is all.”
“Well good. I hope I’m not about to ruin it for you. I need to stay at work a little late tonight, but I’ll do my best to get you by nine. Is that OK?”
Carrie groaned. “I guess. I don’t know how much longer I can do this though. Using the ride share worked today didn’t it? Can’t we do that more often?”
Peter knew it had to be rough on her to not have her freedom. But he needed to keep her safe. “We’ll talk about it tonight,” he promised.
Peter didn’t know why he lied to her about needing to work late, but for some reason, he didn’t want her knowing his dinner plans.
At the restaurant, Gary and Edith were already at a table drinking wine. He gave Edith a long hug and shook Gary’s hand before settling into one of the empty chairs. The waiter came over to take his drink order, but Peter just got water.
“Spoil sport,” Edith teased.
“I
still have to drive home, and I have to work early in the morning. I’ll drink on my thirty days off,” he said.
When they’d placed their food orders, he got straight to the point.
“Edith, how well do you know Carrie?”
Edith grinned. “Did you take a liking to our little masochist?”
Peter twisted his wine glass by the stem. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s complicated. I just wondered how well you know her and if you could tell me anything.” He was speaking to both of them now.
“Come on Peter,” Gary said. “You know we can’t just blab about another member of the group. It’s not polite.”
“I’m not asking you for her social security number. I just want to know your opinions of her. There’s nothing wrong with that. If a sub asked you about a Dom, you would tell them what you thought wouldn’t you?”
Gary scratched his chin. “Fair point. OK. Opinions only though. I think she’s great. A hell of a lot of fun. Friday was the first time she’d been to my house, but she’s always at Edith’s parties.”
Peter leaned back and looked at them both. “Is she submissive?”
Edith chuckled. “I don’t know about that. She’s feisty. I’ve never known her to wear anyone’s collar, that’s for sure. She usually plays with a different person at every party.”
“Edith,” Gary said in a warning tone. “Opinions only.”
“Gary,” Edith said in the same tone. “Don’t talk to me like I’m one of your girls.”
Gary raised his hands. “My apologies, but seriously woman, stop gossiping.”
Edith stuck her tongue out at Gary and Peter laughed. Turning back to Peter she said, “I’ve never known her to get seriously involved with anyone and as far as I know she doesn’t sleep with the people she plays with.”
“Jesus, Edith. How is that an opinion?”
“It’s an observation. I don’t see the harm in that. It’s not like I’m telling him things Carrie has told me in private.”
