I’m unable to process what’s happening before she lifts her lips to mine and kisses me again, just like the night before. And this time, even though I know better, I kiss her back.
This is not what I wanted. It’s not what I need. It’s an unexpected complication that is going to cost me money and time and sleep, I know, not to mention worry and frustration and heartache. I don’t want to want her, but I do, damn it, I do. Everything in my brain is on red alert, but everything in my body has a big green light glaring and I know I shouldn’t act on it, but I can’t seem to stop myself. What is it about this woman? She’s barely more than a girl. Worse yet, she’s wounded and scarred and torn apart by acts perpetrated against her while she was in the most vulnerable state she’s ever been in, and yet here I am, up to my earlobes in trouble, kissing her like there’s no tomorrow.
I play with subs all the time. I play with Marta and Angela. They’re mature, experienced women, and they know how to satisfy a man. But this girl? This slip of a thing? There’s nothing there that tells me she would ever know how to handle a man like me, but I’m so attracted to her that I can’t think straight. Hell, I can barely breathe. Her body is pressed against mine and it feels like nothing ever has before, like someone custom-ordered her to fit against me, to take up space where I have it and retreat where I have a ripple or bulge. Puzzle pieces. The parts in the assembly package. A drawer in a dresser. It all fits, every inch of her against every rock-hard inch of me, and I can’t think about pushing her away. All I want is to hold her to me tight and never let go.
We devour each other, and then she pulls away. There’s a light in her eyes that I haven’t seen before, and she puts a finger to her lips when I start to speak. On tiptoes, she leans into my ear and whispers something I’ll never forget.
“I was made for you, Dave. I know it like I know the sun will come up tomorrow. And you were made for me too.” I look down into her face as she steps back, and there’s a smile there that takes my breath away.
Shit. I’m in trouble – deep, deep trouble.
My god, I’m glad we got those sandwiches down without any more complications. She sat at the table and hummed the whole time we ate. But I’m still glowing and my brain’s buzzing from that kiss when we pull up in the parking lot of the club, then drive around the back. Once I park the car, I tell her, “I’m going to tell you what you can and can’t do as we go along. Do not buck me, do you hear me? Do. Not. Buck. Me. When I tell you what to do and when, I mean it. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” she says with a flourishing salute. Great. A smart ass.
“I need to show you around, show you what goes on here without anyone here, okay? I don’t want you scared.” We stroll into the building and I turn lights on as we go. When we get to the big room, she looks around. “Ask any questions you want. But here’s what we do. We practice bondage and discipline here. We apply punishment. We refine sado-masochistic behaviors here.” When she gives me a blank look, I point at some of the equipment. “This equipment was intended to have people strapped to it so they can be disciplined or punished. Those implements,” I say, pointing to the racks on the walls, “are intended for bare skin.”
To my utter shock, all she says is, “I see.”
I decide to go on. “We don’t allow blade or needle play, but pretty much everything else goes. And there is sex out in the open here.” Nothing registers on her face, no pain or confusion or fear or even excitement. “Any questions?”
“Men or women?” I wasn’t expecting that to be the first question.
“Both. In any configuration. There are sadists here and there are masochists here. Dominants and submissives. I think we may only have one couple who practice a Master/slave kind of relationship.”
She gives me a pointed stare. “And you?”
I’ve got to be honest with her. “I’m a Dominant.”
She nods. “And you cause the pain?”
How to explain? I just say, “No. The pain is already there. I cause enough of another kind of pain to make the first one go away, at least temporarily.”
“Do you have sex out here?”
I almost chuckle, but that wouldn’t be appropriate. “I used to, but not so much anymore. I have to run the club. I occasionally get to play with a sub, but not often.”
It’s obvious she’s mulling over all of this in her head. Finally, out of the blue, she asks, “So, I’m guessing you’d like to know if I’d be interested in any of this.”
“I, well, um, you know, I never . . .”
“The answer is no. I’ve been tied up one too many times. I can’t do that again.” She just stops with that and continues to look around.
“Would you see yourself as being the one to mete out the punishment or discipline?”
She shakes her head. “No. I’ve had that done to me. I don’t want to do it to someone else.”
“Remember,” I tell her, “these people came here of their own free will. They want this. So it’s not like they’re being forced to do anything.”
Her shoulders lift in a shrug. “Still, not interested.”
“Uh-huh. Okay. Just wanted to ask.”
“Thank you for asking.” She wanders around for a little while longer, then takes a seat on a bar stool. “So do you want me to stay out here with you tonight?”
“Will that make you uncomfortable?”
She nods. “Yeah. Sorry. Just the truth.”
“Then you can stay in my office. I have a laptop back there, and you can play games or send email or . . .”
She giggles. “Who on earth would I send an email to?”
“I don’t know. Anyone you wanted, I suppose.”
“Hmmmm.”
“Members will start coming in before long. Let’s get you settled back there.” I lead the way back to the office and point at the desk. “It’s in that drawer there. Just pull out the drawer and you can use the laptop. My bathroom,” I point behind her, “is right back there. There’s stuff to drink in the fridge over there. And I’ll lock the back door so no one can get in and surprise you. Nobody should be coming in through there anyway.”
“Is there a phone?”
“Yeah. It’s right there.” I point to a small, older cell lying on the desk. “It’s old. I just keep it for emergencies.”
“Oh. Okay. But it’s okay if I call someone?”
Who in the hell would she want to call? “Sure. Just not to China. Definitely not to China,” I grin at her.
“Okay. No China!” she laughs.
“Good deal.”
“Hey, Dave?”
“Yes, blossom?”
“Can I have Trish’s number?”
“Sure.” I jot it down on a piece of paper. “But they may very well be here tonight, so if she doesn’t answer, she may actually be here. If they show up, I’ll tell them you’re back here – I’m sure they’ll come back and say hi. Oh, here. This is my number. If you need me, just call it. Unless you can handle walking past all of the scenes going on out front.” I scribble it under Trish’s.
“Got it. Thanks, Dave. Thank you so much. Really. Thanks.”
“Stop it.” Both hands on the desk, I lean down toward her as she sits there. “You’re welcome. Always. More than. Now entertain yourself. We’re going to be here for quite some while, so get comfortable. And if you need anything,” I say, pointing at the phone, then head out the office door.
“Sure. Dave?”
Wheeling to face her, I smile.
“I meant what I said earlier.”
“I know you think you did. This is all new to you, baby. It’ll all look different in a few weeks.”
“No. It won’t. But nice try.” She shoots me a lopsided grin and I chuckle out loud, then make my way through the crowd to the bar.
We haven’t been open more than thirty minutes before Clint and Trish come through the door, and they’re both wearing grim expressions that I can’t read. Trish walks right up to me, leans in, and asks, “So ha
ve you done anything with her?”
“What?”
“I mean it, Dave. Have you done anything with her?”
“You mean sex?”
“Yes, I mean sex.”
“No!” I don’t dare tell her what happened earlier. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“I got a call from her. Have you checked your trash cans?”
“No. For what?”
“She called to tell me you have no paper towel in your bathroom back there and she needed some. She’s bleeding.”
It takes me a few seconds to get her meaning, and then I have to shake the cobwebs from my brain. “Bleeding? What the hell?”
“Exactly what I want to know. I’m going back there to talk to her. I’ll be back in a bit.” I watch her stride across the room and disappear into the hallway.
“What the hell is that about?”
“I have no idea.” Clint reaches for the glass of bourbon I’ve poured for him. “I just know her phone rang and she almost didn’t answer it, but I’m glad she did. And the longer she listened, the more worked up she got. But I really don’t know what’s going on.” We sit in silence and wait for Trish. Twenty minutes later, she appears at the bar.
My question is, “Well? What’s going on?”
Trish climbs onto a stool. “That’s why she wanted to know if she could make a call. She needed to talk to someone, but she was embarrassed for it to be you.”
“I can understand that. But what’s the . . .”
“Tomorrow I’m making an appointment for her with my doctor. She needs to be seen. She says she’s been bleeding since the third or fourth time they raped her and it won’t stop. It’s not a lot, but it just keeps coming. She needs to be seen.”
“Yes she does. I’ll gladly pay,” I offer.
Trish looks relieved. “Thanks. Because this could be expensive and we have a household budget . . .”
“No. I want to. Don’t give it another thought. And I’ll want to know what’s going on.”
Trish pats my hand. “Try to get her to talk to you about it when you get home. Maybe she will. But I’m guessing it’s just too embarrassing for her.”
I can understand that. And I don’t want that for her. I want her to be healthy and happy.
But more and more, I want her to be with me. And that’s just not right.
“So you called Trish. You guys have a good talk?” We’re on our way home, and I’m trying to break the ice.
“Um-hmmm,” she answers, still staring out the car window instead of at me.
“Get things straightened out?”
“Um-hmmm.”
She’s not going to talk to me. I can feel it. So I try a new tactic. “So I like to go to the gym most days. Do you like doing things like that?”
She still doesn’t turn toward me, but she says, “Yeah. I used to be a member of a gym. I enjoyed it.”
“Well, you can go with me. I’d love for you to come. But no pressure.”
“Sure.” Well, that’s a surprise. She wants to go to the gym! I was just sure she’d say no, but sounds like she’s up for it. “I don’t have anything to wear, though.”
I’m passing Walmart, so I just wheel into the parking lot. “Let’s go get you some yoga pants and a couple of tops. And a couple of sports bras.” Then I laugh. “And some athletic shoes and socks. And a package of headbands and some ponytail thingies.”
“Ponytail thingies,” she giggles.
“Hell, I don’t know what they’re called!” Laughing, we head into the store.
When we walk through the doors, there are two police officers at the service desk, and I feel Olivia bristle, so I grab her arm and turn her to look at me. “Listen to me: Just don’t look at them. Pretend they’re not there. Pretend it’s only you and me in the store and everyone else has gone home. Sing a song in your head until we get out of their sight, okay? It’ll be okay, baby. Really. They’re not going to hurt you.”
I take her arm and power on through the doors and toward the exercise gear. As soon as we wind our way through the ladies’ department and they’re out of sight, she relaxes. We find stuff – a lot of stuff, so much stuff I have to go get a cart – then go find her some tennis shoes and socks, after which we visit health and beauty and get what she calls ponytail elastics, plus a couple of headbands. Hell, I don’t know about this stuff. A lot has changed since my daughter Kathy was a little kid. Before we head up to the front, I suggest that she get some pads or something, just so she’ll be prepared; at least that’s the excuse I give her. I watch as she gingerly picks out a box of tampons and a box of pads, then puts them in the cart and just refuses to look at me. It’s kinda cute.
As we stand in the checkout line, she looks the candy bars over. Picking one up, she sniffs it, then puts it back. “Smell good?”
She shakes her head. “I can’t smell it through the wrapper.” She picks up another – same procedure.
“Want one?”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t . . .”
“I’ve got a cart full of clothes for you and you don’t think you’ll let me buy you a candy bar?” I start taking candy off the rack. “Tell me what you want or I’ll get one of everything. And you’ll have all that candy to eat. You’ll eat it until you puke it.” The lady in front of me glares at me, but I just grin at her. “So? What’ll it be?”
Her eyes dance and sparkle – the “kid in the candy store” analogy doesn’t even touch it. It’s like Christmas morning and the best thing she’s ever gotten as a present. Finally she looks at me and says, “I can’t choose. I like these two. Which one should I get?”
I just take them both from her. “No choice. See? That was easy!” Her frown makes me laugh right out loud, but I put them on the belt and pay for them, then hand them to her. The look on her face breaks my heart again.
A candy bar. A bag of chips. A clean place to sleep. She hasn’t asked for anything, and everything I do for her is treated like the most wonderful prize anyone ever won.
It’s terrifying. It’s only been about twenty-four hours, and I think I’m falling in love with Olivia.
I manage to get all of her workout wear and all the clothes we bought earlier in the day washed and hung up so she’ll have things to wear. She still needs bras and underwear, but we’ll take care of that sometime soon.
Bless her heart, she wants to pop more popcorn, so I tell her how long to set the microwave for, then have to show her how it works. It’s not because she doesn’t know how to operate one. It’s because every damn one of them is so different. Once it starts popping, she’s practically bouncing up and down as she watches the bag expanding through the window on the microwave.
We have a soft drink and popcorn, and then it’s time for bed. Face washed, teeth brushed, hair brushed, and a pair of lounge pants and a tee shirt on, I crawl in between the sheets and take a deep breath. I’m treading in dangerous territory, and I know it. This girl is just that – a girl. I’m a grown man, old enough to be her grandfather. But everything about me, my head, my heart, my cock – they all want her. I’m trying to figure out how best to keep that from being a problem when I hear a soft knock on my door. Shit. I can’t ignore her, and I let out a deep sigh before I say, “Come in.”
There she stands in nothing but a pair of panties and one of my huge tees. Her legs are beautiful, and she’s standing there, so unsure of herself. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure, hon. Sit down.” She sits on the edge of the bed down at the foot, and I sit up and prop myself up with pillows. “What’s up?”
She turns a deep shade of scarlet. “Um, Trish told me I should talk to you about, um, a problem I’m having.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m, uh, it’s almost like a lady problem but, uh, it’s not stopping.”
“You mean you’re bleeding?”
“Yeah.”
I nod. “Yeah, I know. Trish told me.”
“Oh.” And there she goes, staring at the floor agai
n.
“Honey, she wasn’t betraying your confidence. She’s afraid something’s wrong with you, and she wanted me to know in case you had a problem. That’s all. Just a safety thing.”
“Oh,” she says again.
“Do you have any idea what’s wrong?” I’m terrified of the answer.
“Yeah.” She hesitates, then says, “I think they hurt me.”
“Trish is taking you to the doctor, right?”
“Yeah. I hope tomorrow.”
Something crosses my mind. “Are you in pain?”
It happens, that thing that tears out my heart. A tear rolls down her cheek. “All the time.”
God, I want to hold her and tell her everything will be okay. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she sniffles. “It’s not your fault.”
“I know, but I’m still sorry. The doctor will help you.”
“I hope so. Will you go to the doctor with me?”
My smile is soft and warm, and I choose my words carefully. “Honey, that’s kind of a lady thing, and I’m not even related to you. I don’t think they’d let me go back there. But they’ll let Trish if you want her to, so she’s the one to go with you. But it’ll be all right. You’ll see.”
“Okay.” She looks so sad. She’s been in pain all this time? That cuts me to the quick. How has she been able to stand it? “I think I’m going to bed now. So good night.” Standing, she looks at me like she wants to kiss me, then leaves the room and closes the door behind her.
Whew. Crisis averted, although knowing that she’s in pain would’ve stopped me from doing something that would be extremely stupid. But I don’t need to flirt with this; I need to nip it in the bud. I snuggle down into my sheets and try to think of something else. I think about Kathy and how I don’t see her very often, only when she needs something, but that’s okay. I wasn’t around for her much when she was growing up. And I think about Clint, what a fine guy he’s turned out to be, and how happy he is now, he and the girls, since Trish has been in their lives. I think about Marta and how much I’ve always loved her, and Angela, that beauty who stole her away.
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