30DaystoSyn (4 page)

“Crystal, Sir,” she said.

“One important detail,” he said and his
eyes shone like blue diamonds. “I don’t use condoms. I find them distasteful.
There will be nothing between my cock and your cunt.”

She shuddered at the vulgarity. “I
understand. What about—”

“You won’t get pregnant,” he stated. “I had
a vasectomy years ago but just to be on the safe side you are to religiously
take the birth control pills my physician prescribed for you. I have no
intention of ever bringing a child into this world. Do you agree with what I’ve
said so far?”

She took a deep breath. “Yes Sir.”

“And you will abide by my rules?”

She frowned. “That depends on the rules,”
she replied.

“Fair enough,” he said.

He leaned forward in chair. “From this
moment forward you will not speak unless you are asked a direct question and
then you are to answer either
yes sir
or
no sir
. If I require a
longer answer, you will be told. If I want your opinion I will ask you to make
an observation. You will do what you are told, when you are told and how you
are told to do it. There will be no crying and there will be no hesitation on
your part. I assure you there will be none on mine. You are to look me directly
in the eyes at all times. No matter what is happening to your body or mine,
your gaze is not to waver. If you can live with these stipulations either nod
or shake your head.”

She slowly nodded.

“All right,” he said and seemed to be
relieved that she had agreed. “Within the next few days I will call you with
the time when we will meet. You are to be on time each night. If you are not,
you will find the deadbolt engaged and our arrangement will cease at that
moment.”

He stretched out his leg and fished a hand
into the pocket of his pants. He withdrew a key from which dangled a small
silver disk. He put the key on the desk and flicked it toward her across the
sleek top. She snaked out a hand to cover the key before it could slide off the
edge.

“That is the key to the room you will
enter. Do not lose it, you’ll not be given another. When I phone you, I will
give you instructions on what—if anything—you need to do to prepare for our
session. You are to ask no questions. All I want to hear from you is
hello
.
Is that clear?”

Once again she nodded.

“Upon arrival—not a minute before the
appointed hour nor a minute past that hour, you are to enter the room with your
key. On the floor you will find a mark. You are to stand on that mark and await
further instructions. Is
that
clear?”

She nodded, feeling her heart racing in her
chest.

“At the end of each session, you will be
told to leave. You will do so immediately without hesitation. Are we clear on
that point?”

She indicated she was.

“Now, if you can live with those rules, you
may leave now.”

Feeling as though she had placed her life
into his hands, she got to her feet. He sat where he was as he watched her
without blinking. She felt snared in the trap of his bold blue gaze and it was
all she could do to tear her attention from him. As she walked to the door, she
could feel the heat of his stare boring into her back. Her hand shook as she
reached for the doorknob.

“Melina?”

She looked around to find him standing
behind his desk with his doubled fists braced on the top. She did not speak.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said softly. “That
is my solemn vow to you but don’t lose your virginity between now and the end
of our time together. I would know. After putting in the time I intend to take
with you, I would not be pleased to discover you aren’t as I need you to be. I
would be irritated to learn what I am paying an unseemly amount of money for
isn’t in the pristine shape I expect it to be. I don’t like damaged goods. Used
items are worthless to me. Then there’s the fact that I am a greedy man and
when something is snatched from my grasp, I get very angry. You really don’t
want to see me angry, Melina.”

She licked her dry lips, saw his eyes lower
to her mouth before flicking back to hers. She nodded and opened the door. All
the way to the elevator she felt as though he was watching her though the door
between them was firmly closed. She pressed the button and the doors to the
cage slid silently apart. She stepped inside, pushed the first floor button and
felt her legs grow weak. She grabbed the safety bar and clung to it as though
it were a lifeline.

His head was lowered as he stared at the
computer screen embedded in the top of his desk. The moment the door closed
behind her, he reached under the desk to press the button that slid the
covering panel from the screen. He watched her as she stood at the elevator and
he saw the exact moment she steadied herself inside it.

A slow, wolfish smile tugged at the corners
of his mouth.

“Baby, I’m going to rock your world so you
better brace yourself,” he whispered.

Night One

Lina sat staring at the telephone in her
apartment, waiting for it to ring. She was still amazed both that bill, as well
as the utility bill was being paid for her every month. Neither the phone nor
utility company would or could tell her who was shelling out the money to make
sure the services weren’t disconnected. Even her cable and internet services
had been turned back on and paid for a year in advance. To her complete
astonishment, she now had every available premium channel and the highest
internet connection speed to be had.

She knew who was responsible for such
luxuries.

He’d called once to tell her their sessions
would be delayed for a while. He was returning to New Zealand but would return
by the end of October. He had instructed her to be home every evening from
October twenty-seventh on.

Getting up to pace, she kept eyeing the
phone, willing it to chirp. Her palms were sweaty again and she rubbed them
down the side seams of her jeans. The waiting was wearing on her nerves and
every little sound made her jump. She had a bad case of indigestion and a
slight headache. She was getting a lot of those lately.

Tonight would be the night, she thought. It
was the first of November and she’d been waiting since September second to hear
something from the man to whom she was to hand over her virginity. The longer
she waited, the more nervous she was. The day she’d been interviewed by the
mysterious stranger she knew only as Sir had begun a countdown that had her
tossing and turning every night since. Her performance at work left something
to be desired and she had pulled her head in like a turtle every time Rachel
suggested they get out and do something.

“I don’t have the money to spare, Rach,”
she’d told her friend and that was true even though three thousand dollars had
magically appeared in her bank account a week earlier. It was money she had no
intention of touching until after she’d fulfilled her bargain with Sir.

When the phone rang, she cried out,
spinning around to stare at it with wide eyes. Her heart lurched in her chest
and the lump in her throat threatened to cut off her air.

Of course, she thought as it rang again, it
could be Rachel but she knew it wasn’t.

It was him.

She knew it was him.

Steeling herself, she walked slowly to the
phone—eying it as though it were a coiled rattler. Her fingers hovered over the
receiver until the fifth ring. Her hand shook as she brought the receiver to
her ear.

“Hello?” she all but whispered and when his
voice came at her from the other end, she slowly closed her eyes.

“From now on, you will answer by the third
ring, Melina!” he said in a nasty tone. There was a pause as though he expected
her to say something. When she didn’t, she could hear him heave a harsh sigh.
“The car will pick you up at precisely seven forty-five. You are to be waiting
at the curb no later than that time. Between now and then you are to shower,
wash and dry your hair but apply no makeup or perfume. Wear your hair loose.
Dress in a skirt with pockets and a plain button up blouse, bra and panties
only. Sandals with no stockings. Do not bring a purse with you. Bring only the
keys to your apartment and the key I gave you. When you arrive at the building,
you are to proceed inside immediately. You are to take the elevator to the
second floor. The room number is 202. Beside the door is a digital clock. At
exactly eight p.m.—not a minute before, not a minute after—you are to insert
the key into the lock. Open the door, enter, close the door and engage the
deadbolt. Go to the mark on the floor. You cannot miss it.”

The phone went dead.

Her mouth dry, palms wet, body trembling,
she clutched the phone to her face. There was a lump forming in her throat and
a heavy weight pressing down on her shoulders. Slowly she turned her eyes to
the clock on the kitchen wall. It was six fifteen. She knew she was about to
experience the longest hour and a half of her life.

He stepped over to the windows, used the
backs of his fingers to push aside the drape. A thin sliver of light spilled
from the crack. Behind him the Room was dark, bare save for two chairs—one
straight back and one overstuffed wingback—a desk upon which sat a closed
laptop computer and a cell phone lying at a precise ninety degree angle to the
laptop. The straight-back chair sat behind the desk and the overstuffed one was
positioned in front of the bank of heavily draped windows. The floor was
thickly carpeted and the walls richly paneled in polished oak over cinder
blocks. The Room was soundproof. Upon the carpet near the door was a large X
made from red duct tape. Above the X was a can spotlight. Another was
positioned over the overstuffed chair and another above the desk. Each light
was controlled by a small remote nestled in the pocket of his jeans.

Turning, he slipped his hand in his pocket
and activated the spotlight over the X. A bright light fell from the ceiling to
encompass an area about two feet in diameter. He walked to the X, stood there
surveying the room in all directions, content that once she took her place on
the mark, she could see nothing around her.

He looked down at the fifty-eight thousand
dollar watch strapped to his left wrist. The rose-gold perpetual-calendar watch
with its alligator band glowed softly when he pushed in the winding stem. The
watch was the most expensive thing on his body. The denim jeans had been around
since his high school days in Auckland. He had paid three dollars at a secondhand
store for the twenty-year-old jeans that now had ragged holes in both knees and
were worn so thin in the seat the fabric shone. The black T-shirt worn hanging
free of his jeans had set him back another ten from a specialty store. The
black jandals—what they called flip-flops in his native New Zealand—had been a
gift from his best friend. Worn jeans, T-shirts and jandals were all he ever
wore away from the office where custom-made Italian-designer suits, French silk
shirts and English handsewn fifteen-hundred dollars-a-pair split-toe shoes were
expected. Beneath the jeans he was commando and that was the way he preferred
it. The only other thing he wore was his father’s signet ring but he had no
idea how much it was worth.

He looked at his watch again.

It was 7:50 p.m. She would be there in ten
minutes. He thought it might well be the longest ten minutes he’d ever endure.

He ran his tongue along the edges of his
bottom teeth—a nervous habit he had—then walked purposefully to the overstuffed
chair. He sat, crossed his right ankle over his left knee, curled his hands
over the end of the chair arms and tried to steady his breathing. He was as
nervous as a green youth and twice as anxious.

Sitting in the back of the black sedan,
Melina could feel sweat gathering under her arms. Though it was a cool night,
she felt overheated. She’d tried to lower the window beside her but the control
didn’t work. As soon as she sat down in the backseat, the door locks had
engaged and she’d wanted to scream. She was locked inside the vehicle with a
strange man she suspected was of Māori descent, headed toward an unknown
destination. No one knew where she was or who she was with or who she was
meeting. She was completely off the grid.

“
You are to tell no one of our
arrangement,
” he’d warned her.

Fear lanced through her like summer
lightning and she twisted her hands in her lap.

“There is no need to worry. You’ll be fine.
He is a good man,” the driver said, glancing at her from the rearview mirror.
“You have nothing to be afraid of, Miss Wynth.”

“He didn’t tell me his name,” she said in
the hopes the driver would.

“If he wished you to know it, he would have
done so,” the man replied and returned his attention to the road.

She turned her head to look out the window.
She knew she’d get no information from the driver.

The neighborhood gave way to interstate.
Interstate spilled onto a parkway leading into downtown. The parkway handed
them off to a side street running parallel to the interstate where one and
two-story office parks dotted the landscape. The buildings all looked the same
and nothing was familiar so she knew she’d never been there before. As soon as
the driver turned between two sections of offices, she saw a black Harley
motorcycle parked in front of one building and knew they had arrived at their
destination.

“He’s a biker,” she said.

“Collects them,” the man replied. He caught
her eye in the mirror. “Boys like their toys.”

She smiled despite her worry and
nervousness. “So I’ve heard,” she said.

He swung the car around so that it was
parallel to the sidewalk. He turned off the engine. Opening his door, he went
around the back of the car to her door, opened it and held out his hand.

“Thank you,” she said as she took his hand.
It was cool and the grip firm.

He helped her out of the car then went to
the door leading into the office building and held that open for her as well.
When she passed him—mumbling her thanks once again—he smiled.

“He’s a good man,” he repeated. “Just
remember that and you’ll be fine.”

His words did not encourage her or assuage
her anxiety. If anything, they increased the disquiet that made her legs feel
like rubber as she walked to the elevator. It took courage she didn’t feel to
press the Up button. When the doors closed and the cage engaged, she felt her
stomach churn.

“Jesus, Joseph and Mary,” she mumbled. Her
Irish grandmother’s incantation against evil came easily from her lips but the
sound of her own voice, the names she spoke did not calm her. Instead, they
brought guilty shame at what she was there to do. Her gramma would have been
appalled at her actions. Her mother would have told her she’d go to hell for
sure.

When the elevator stopped and the doors
opened, she stood stock-still. Her heart was hammering in her chest and her
breathing was erratic.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she
whispered. She wasn’t sure she could cross over the metal threshold. Looking
down at her watch, she realized she had only one minute to make up her mind.

Drew’s dear face flashed before her eyes.

The matter was settled.

Holding her breath, she stepped into the
hall and looked down a long, carpeted hallway—staring at it as though it were a
minefield along which she must make her way. Screwing up the last vestige of
bravery, she released a shuddering breath and headed for the door beside which
would be a digital clock.

The room she sought was halfway down the
hallway. It stood out like a beacon as she approached it along the brightly lit
corridor. Coming to it, she could hear the blood rushing through her ears.

Room 202.

The plain metal door with a copper plate
reading the room number gleamed from the overhead fluorescent light, from which
came a low buzz. The digital clock read 07:59:25 as she fumbled in her pocket
for the key he had given her. She was trembling as she put the key to the lock
and waited for the clock to count down to 08:00:00. As it did, she thought
she’d puke up the food she’d had at lunch. Supper had been out of the question
as she prepared herself to meet with him.

As the digital numbers rolled into place,
she twisted the key, took a deep breath and opened the door.

He tensed as soon as he heard the key being
inserted in the lock. His foot had been bouncing against his knee but that
stilled as his entire body became rigid with anticipation. The spotlight over
the red X lit the sleek glossiness of her hair as she came into the room. Her
head was down as she turned to twist the deadbolt into place. He watched her
straighten her shoulders, lift her head. It only took her two steps to enter
the spotlight to stand on the mark.

He said nothing as he watched her eyes
shift nervously around the room. Her hands were curled into fists at her side
as though she expected someone to pounce on her and beat her to the floor. Her
chin trembled but she held her ground.

Five minutes passed.

Ten.

She was beginning to fidget. He saw her
lips part several times and knew she wanted to speak but that was forbidden. He
held his breath each time she seemed about to say something. When she didn’t,
he realized she wouldn’t and began to relax. He desperately wanted her to obey
the rules. He wanted the sessions to go to the very end. He wanted her more
than he had any other woman.

Fifteen minutes slipped by then he gave his
command in a soft, firm voice.

“You may leave now.”

He saw her flinch, her lips part in
surprise. This time he was sure she would speak but she didn’t. Instead, she
turned, disengaged the deadbolt and exited without a sound. The door had barely
closed before he was up and at the desk, flipping open the laptop, sliding his
fingertips across the sensor to bring the screen into play.

The screen was divided into four quadrants.
One quadrant showed the outside entrance of the building. The second showed the
door to Room 202. The third held a view of the elevator doors and whoever might
be standing there and the fourth was inside the cage, revealing its passenger.
He watched her enter the elevator.

Shock.

Hurt.

Wounded pride.

Worry that he’d found her somehow unworthy
of his attention and was now going to end the deal before it ever began.

Tears filled her eyes as she stabbed
blindly at the Down button.

She hadn’t even been sure he was in the
room. He’d been as quiet as a church mouse.

Or a leering perverted Peeping Tom.

Knowing he had been somewhere in the room
staring at her, judging her, evaluating her without so much as a sign that he
was doing so unnerved her. His low voice had scared her. His command that she
leave stung.