Reckless (9 page)

As if it was perched at the top branch of a great tree, Sam Ross's office was found at the highest pinnacle of the newspaper building It didn't even seem like it belonged to the rest of the world, especially the real world of front page news. For Tad and Kelly it was an unexpected visit with the scowling, red-faced editor that brought them there. Though neither of them was easily intimidated, the whole set-up—rising to the top of the building and walking into the cool crisp office must have been designed for intimidation.

"For the life of me, I can't understand you two," Sam, groused. "One minute you're fighting like cats and dogs, the next minute you're screwing each other like mad animals at the Mayor's banquet. Are you totally mad?"

"The thought's occurred to me," Tad said, flippantly.

"Well, perhaps you two want to keep the sex in your bedroom?" he barked at them both.

"No one saw us," Kelly said smugly.

"But they sure as hell heard you. And don't think I don't know what happened in that topless bar, Kelly London. I should have fired you then, but your boyfriend made such a case for you." It was the first he'd said about that investigation to her face.

"I suppose you know the whole story?" she asked.

"What whole story?" Sam asked.

"He heard enough," Tad interjected. He was lounging back, really casual in his chair. The flippant remark, just enough to quiet Sam, made Kelly wonder exactly what Tad had told him.

Sam shook his head. "I never thought I'd have to start lecturing my reporters like they were children."

"You don't have to, Sam," Kelly said. "We're adults. We'll handle the flack if there's any."

"Yeah, but I'm hearing about it."

"Too bad you weren't there, so you could have heard for yourself," Tad said smirking. He was so amused he was almost laughing out loud.

Sam jawed on his cigar for a minute while he glared at them. "Just keep it to yourself," he grumbled. "I don't want to know your sleeping habits any more than you want to know mine. But why I really brought you here was to talk about this conflict between you two."

"Conflict?" Kelly asked. "I wasn't aware that there was one."

"Well, Stone seems to think so. I thought we could hash it out."

Kelly looked at her colleague. Here in just a second he'd gone from ally to enemy. He looked back at her unruffled, as usual. "What the hell did you tell him?" she asked. "I thought we'd ironed everything out?"

He shrugged. "I'd already talked to him when you started that little donnybrook in your office."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"What was the point, you look so . . . how do I say it . . . rousingly passionate when you're angry."

"You condescending ass!"

"Hey!" Sam barked. "You both got hard ones for each other, think it's time you did something about it."

"We did and you got pissed," Tad returned immediately.

"I mean in private," he said.

"If you want us to be more discreet about our sexual relations, I suppose that's possible," Kelly said. "Though I doubt there's going to be anything more for anyone to see or hear." She glared at Tad. "Besides, we're not talking about sex any-more, we're talking about work."

"Then let's handle Tad's complaint about his assignments."

"I just gave him the best one to come across the news desk in weeks. If he has a complaint about that, then I'd suggest that he find a bigger paper in a bigger city. That's as good as it comes."

"Don't waste his talents," Sam said. He was looking at her in a fatherly way, which made her want to strangle him. To have two men patronizing her in a matter of minutes was more than she wanted to take.

"I have to be fair to my other reporters, Sam. If there's something in this man's contract that requires he get first pick of everything, then you really don't need me to delegate the work. We'll just let Tad take over the City Desk."

"Would you calm down, Kel, no one's suggesting that," Sam tried pacifying her.

"I won't work under those circumstances, if I get criticized for every decision I make."

"Welcome to the real world babe," Tad said dryly.

"What are you trying to accomplish?" Kelly said. She was completely baffled.

Tad chuckled. "For a worldly reporter, slash newspaper woman, your damned naive, Kel. I want the headlines, I want the bylines, I want my name out there. One Pulitzer isn't enough for me. Your paper paid good bucks to have me because they know I'm the cream of the crop. When you see my interview with Senator Lewellyn, we're talking award time. In the meantime, I want first refusal on every story that goes down."

"Sam?" Kelly immediately turned to her boss.

"He carries that kind of clout," Sam admitted.

There was dead silence, until Kelly finally rose from her chair.

"Fine," she said. "You two run the City Desk, I'm going back to free-lancing, where I don't have to deal with this kind of arrogance."

"Kelly, come on, you're not serious," Sam groaned.

"Oh, but I am. You'll have my official resignation on your desk by five." She left the room despite Sam's attempts to call her back.

***

An hour later, Kelly was in her office, packing a cardboard box with her personal things.

"You're not really leaving, are you?" she heard Tad's voice and looked up. His more charming nature having returned, he smiled broadly as though he was about to begin something sexual.

"What does it look like?"

"A little reactionary, I think."

"Reactionary. You think this is reactionary? I call it the most sane thing I've done in five months. I can't believe you'd pull that kind of stunt about first refusal, and mean it. Maybe I was dense, a little slow to catch on, but I'm clear now what you want. And with those conditions, I can't do the job. It's pointless. Let some spineless copy editor take over, they'd do the job and it won't piss them off every day."

"Why don't you give it a couple of days," he said. "Cool down a little."

"Why? Did Sam send you down here to undo the shit you started?"

"I came on my own. Maybe I don't want you to leave."

Kelly took a deep breath. It was actually kindness she was getting from the maverick reporter, but that didn't really matter, it was too late. "Listen, I'm tired of the grind, the hours, the sass from you and everyone else, and Sam's cigar smoke, and deadlines every day, and spending too much time correcting other people's grammar and listening to them bitch. It's just not worth it."

"It's part of the job, Kel. You're just having a rough day . . . all the tension with the nightclub incident."

"No!" she snapped. "That's not it at all. This is no rough day, it's not PMS, it's not some "woman" thing. It has nothing to do with what was over and done two months ago. It's real stuff for me. You say welcome to the real world, well here's a piece of mine. I don't want to deal with you. I don't want you on my staff, the only way I've ever wanted you in my life was sexual. And I guess that's over too. You got the job you wanted, you climbed your way right over top of me, just like you said you would. So enjoy the view. This is final. I won't change my mind. And you can take that tidbit back to Sam. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like my office to myself."

It was impossible to look at Tad without sexual things stirring in her. There was a little sadness in his eyes, not something that she expected to see, but still, it was genuine.

"Whatever you say, boss," he replied.

He backed out the door and closed it before she could remind him that she was no longer his boss.

It was a new life, not getting up in the morning at the crack of dawn, staying late at night pouring over work on her messy desk. There was no mad rush around her, no sparring conversations, no deadlines to keep her on track, and there was only the people she chose to deal with populating her life.

The novel was the first thought on her mind when she quit, thinking the time to finish the work would be like heaven. Though there was little excitement spending all her hours in front of a computer monitor. She was determined not to return to the newspaper in spite of Sam's weekly calls to offer her everything from her old job back, to editorial assignments. But she did need more stimulation. She needed people. With that fact obvious after just two weeks on her own, she decided to strike out on a far different kind of work. A few calls to her publishing contacts, and she had the backing she needed to begin a non-fiction piece on some titillating topic of her choice. It paid to have been a journalist all these years.

On all accounts, the topic she chose for an investigative inquiry met all the criteria she was looking for. A book on unique, bizarre and often over the edge sexual practices was a perfect means of meeting her need for income, and her desire for provocative thrills. Despite how her dance club investigation turned out, her interest in that area of life hadn't declined in the slightest. If anything, it had been stimulated.

To begin the work, Kelly began exploring the dozens of shops and boutiques in the city that catered to sexual finery. Everything from Frederick's of Hollywood and plush lingerie boutiques to leather stores, and those carrying sex toys, pornography, and offering their customers the opportunity to be tattooed or pierced with body jewelry. Kelly spoke with shop owners, customers and casual voyeurs for informal interviews. Her enthusiasm for the curious sub-culture grew with each place she visited; her fascination for the strange and macabre sparked her lust each time.

At one particularly interesting boutique, she was encouraged by the store owner to try on some leather and chain garments – just so she could get a personal appreciation of how such clothing might erotically arouse its wearer.

"You'll like the effect," the long-haired man told her, as he pulled a backless skirt, a leather halter bra, and various cuffs and collars from their displays. "The dressing room's quite private. Of course if you'd like to model them, no one would object."

"This," she said, holding up the skirt.

There was a twinkle in his eye. "As I said, no one's going to object."

Kelly discovered quickly, that being an observer and being a participant were two wholly different things. Once in the dressing room, she went beyond being a casual reporter of the facts to being one of the many who sometimes tiptoed, sometimes walked boldly into darker sexual territory. With just the thought of trying on the unusual attire, the same kind of sensations that she remembered from the topless bar were engaged. Words like naughty, sordid, obscene and lewd popped into her head. She'd been a whore once, now she was walking into a new level of depravity and loving it. It was too bad that the walk was such a lonely one. She couldn't imagine sharing this with any man she knew. Except with Tad perhaps. And she hadn't seen him in weeks.

The clothes she took into the dressing room required her to strip naked before putting them on. It was almost like being reborn into another world. An instant before she began trying on the outfit, the three way mirror reflected back three naked Kellys, wet pussys, jiggling breasts and blushing cheeks. Running her hands over her bare skin, she might have began masturbating before she even began trying on clothes. But she stopped. That wasn't the point. Kelly wondered how many lovers used the sex shop for sex. Tad would have fucked her here in a heartbeat.

Trying the skirt first, she saw the front side as little more than a simple short straight leather, though adjusting the movable side of the mirror, she was able to see the back that was purposefully cut out to show her bottom. Straps in three places held the sides together. Though what was left bare was the important part: the cleft of her ass. That was provocatively accentuated as though it had been placed in a picture frame. If she was into spanking, the skirt was the perfect thing to wear. Imagining a rosy glow on her exposed cheeks, she wondered what it would feel like to have her bottom paddled. The leather halter was subdued enough, except for the zippers at the middle of each cup. Unzipped, it exposed her nipples. With the two erect buds peeking though the slits, she could even imagine them pierced with rings.

If Kelly wanted a personality change, dressing in leather was certainly one way to achieve it. With each piece added to her outfit, she moved one step closer to an attitude of submissiveness. It was not a state she was accustomed to even if it was curiously comfortable.

The two inch collar around her neck made the feeling of surrender even more acute. As the heavy metal buckle tightened about her thin neck, the sense of capture and being conquered swept through her with subtle longing. Cuffs at her wrists made her think of being bound before an ancient tribunal. Thoughts she never would have entertained entered her mind as if she'd taken some fantasy elixir. It seemed that there were many places that her psyche longed to go without her ever being aware. For that instant she could have turned down any road and experienced erotic thrills. This road, this one in the leather shop, held her so captive, she jumped hearing the unexpected sound of the shop owner knocking on the door.

"I thought perhaps you should try some nipple clamps," he told her.

Kelly opened the door to the room without even realizing how exposed she was.

"My, that is divine!" he exclaimed. "What do you think?"

"Amazing," was all she could reply. "Nipple clamps?"

"Yes, let me show you," he said, already reaching for her breasts and stretching out a nipple. The small clamp in his hand opened with a squeeze of his fingers, closing seconds later to apply a startling pressure to the tender bud.

"How does that feel?"

"Ooo, tight," she whispered.

"But not uncomfortable," he said, as if to assure her. "There are many more severe ones, but for a novice, I thought this would give you the necessary effect." Repeating the process with the other nipple, a few seconds later, two clamps hung heavy from her leather clad tits, just a shade below painful. Each time she moved, the sensation became more intense.

"Enough?" the man asked, as she stared at her.

"No, no yet," she said. "I suppose if I'm doing research I should make this as authentic as possible."

"I agree. It's not uncommon for a submissive to wear clamps for extended periods of time. Of course according to the intensity. These you could probably wear two hours, even more. Others you'd scream at the top of your lungs in a second." He stopped for a instant while he perused her again from cuffs to collar. "How about the skirt? It would allow you to try some of the paddles if you like."

"I'm not sure." She doubted her courage.

"Certainly you wouldn't want to go home without the complete experience," he said. "I've got some customers that would like to see a demo if you're game."

She winced.

"Hey, I'll throw in the collar if you like. And it won't take but a few minutes." He was already turning her around to look at her naked behind. "Yes, this is nice. A little red skin would only make it better."

By then, Kelly was so far into the fantasy it seemed unreal: unreal the way he took her by the hand; unreal the scenario in the semi darkness of the shop where she leaned over one of the counters with her bottom exposed; unreal too when she felt a rude smack on her behind, and the snap of a cane, and then a buggy whip which stung the most. With that one, she jerked back to reality, and stood up, to see a dozen pairs of eyes looking at her.

"I think that's enough," she said, backing off.

"No? Not going to try the paddles?" the man asked.

"No. I think I've had enough, but thanks," she said.

With her nipple clamps still bobbing off her breasts she moved back behind the curtain to the dressing room and into the safety of that cramped corner.

"Hey, you were a real sport," she heard the shop owner call to her, as he followed her back.

"And it was quite an experience," she admitted. She was about to close the door and return to her real clothes, but the shop owner had his foot in the door and obviously other ideas.

"Better let me take off the clamps," he said. "Just be prepared. There's quite a rush when they loosen." Reaching out he began to squeeze the right one open. As careful as he was however, Kelly shrieked when the sharp pain bolted through her.

"A lot of people love the spike," he said.

She took a deep breath. "I don't know about that," she answered. "Though I do know this turns me on. I almost feel like I'm drunk."

He smiled. "Good way to put it," he said. "I imagine you have a personal fascination for this? It's not just professional?" he rightly observed.

"It has its intrigue," she agreed.

"Shame to let the feelings go to waste." He moved his hand to her crotch, and began to stroke her through the leather. "You ever been dominated?"

"Not this way," she answered, feeling the heat in her crotch rise with each caress of his hand.

"There are lots of places you can take these feeling to and you can have all sorts of fun with them."

"I'm not sure I'm into the pain."

"That's just it. It's not pain for pain's sake, it for pleasure's sake." He moved forward and kissed her lips lightly, so she could smell the spearmint and tobacco on his breath. He didn't push, but he didn't stop. Kelly had no will left to resist, perhaps this way the fantasy would be complete. She might have offered her ass to him at that point and she guessed he knew that."

"My name's Jerry, and yours?"

"Kelly," she said. Their lips were whispering so close to each other they could feel the air between them move.

"Kelly, why don't you let me take you to the master's club dressed just like this," he said. He'd reached around her so he could fondle her naked skin.

"Oh, I don't think so," she managed to say.

"Or we could do something right here?" His fingers parted the crack of her ass. To make his task easier, she parted her legs and turned to the side.

"You like it in the ass?" he asked.

"Love it there," she answered.

"That's the only way I'd take a new submissive," Jerry informed her. "Until they paid the price to have it in the cunt."

She was on the verge of submission. Something about his attitude, the way when he spoke he just presumed that he could have what he wanted.

"You need a dildo in here, you know that," he said as his fingers found her back door. "Something that will stretch you wide, make you cry, make you feel really full."

"You'd do that?" she asked.

"I have a whole counter full just outside that door. You could take your pick."

"Don't you have to get back to work?" she said.

"Not if I don't want to," he replied. "Remember, I own the shop. All I have to do is send the bastards out and close the door. Right here, Kelly, you can have it right here."

His fingers were gathering her juice from her cunt to lubricate the tight place. It seemed like months since the night she was raped—if she could call it rape. The half that wanted to run out the door was slowly loosing to the side that wanted more.

"Why don't you just take me here?" she whispered. Her body was giving in, making the a decision that took such little thought.

It wasn't exactly the submission that Jerry was used to, but he was willing to forget about being dominant in favor of a willing woman who needed her ass screwed. All leather and collars and nipple clamps aside, she was just plain horny, and he was too smart to make this novice stretch too far.

"The next dressing room's bigger," he told her, as he pulled her with him to the larger space. Pushing her to the floor, he knelt behind her and did the deed. Still in leather, still in collar and cuffs, she was submissive enough yielding to the commotion in her dark portal that needed relief. He was quick, taking hardly a dozen thrusts to reach a climax. Just like she liked it best, Kelly kicked off with a mean finale as the man pinched her clit hard to the very end.

"I suppose you could get a few pages for your book from this," Jerry said, as he was standing behind her wiping his dick.

Kelly sitting back on her legs, looked at his face, wanting know how she could loose herself this way, and she wasn't even drunk. He wasn't a lover, he was just a fuck. Maybe that's all she needed. Maybe that was all she was really looking for in this book. Someday, really soon, she'd have to think about her motives with a little objectivity, if that was possible. Or maybe it was better to forget objectivity and go for thrills regardless. Yeah, she could probably fill a whole chapter on this afternoon.

"Like I said, keep the collar," Jerry told her. "And someday, if you really want to submit, it will be a good way to start."

"Thanks," she said, wondering why she was thanking him. Maybe it was because he'd done her a favor. Maybe she just needed to get this one out of the way before she proceeded with the rest of her assignment.