Unleashed (19 page)

He pushed my hands behind my back and locked them together. "Declan," I said. My eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness. I could just make out his figure in front of me. He pulled me further into the room. There were large windows to our left covered in dark curtains. In the dim light I saw shelves filled with books, several reading chairs and a couch sitting in the center of the room. Declan pushed me up against a shelf, the books pressed against my bare arms and I felt the leather of their spines.

"Declan wait," I said.

He leaned down and whispered into my ear. "The safe word is doppelgänger. Don't use it unless you really want me to stop."

I closed my eyes and let the darkness take me. It enveloped me, letting me feel pain and lust as one dangerous cocktail. I wanted it to stop and couldn't bear to have the moment end. The handcuffs, despite their fur lining, rubbed my wrists raw. I wanted them in front of me instead of behind my back. Declan tried to stop me but I pushed him away, using one heeled foot. He stumbled back from me and I squatted down, rolling onto my back and brought my bound hands around my feet.

Declan grabbed my arm roughly and pulled me to my feet. I felt him with my hands. "That's not how I want you," he said.

"I don't care," I answered before biting his lip hard enough to make him groan. He pushed me back against the stacks and I heard books land on the hard wood floor, their pages flopping to one side.

"You're not good at being submissive," he said against my throat as I ran my bound hands through his hair.

"You're observant," I joked.

He pinched me hard and I yelped. "I'm not kidding," he said as he grabbed my hair, pulling my neck back painfully. His lips against mine. "Do you want to learn?"

"Never," I answered.

He laughed. "Good."

###

B
ruised, battered, and beyond satisfied I rested against Declan's chest, curled up on his lap in one of the large leather chairs. He unlocked the cuffs and kissed my wrists. "Do you want to go back to the party," he asked.

"You ripped my stockings," I said.

He laughed, a deep rumble I felt run through my body. "I don't think anyone will notice," he said.

"Do we have to?" I asked.

"No," he said shaking his head. "Lord knows I wouldn't be able to make you."

I laughed and shook my head, my loose hair brushed against my bare shoulders. "I'd like another drink," I said remembering that I still didn't have any useful information to give Mulberry.

"I suppose I owe you one," Declan said, shifting so that he could get up. I waited in the leather chair and watched his form move through the darkness. Moments later the room lit up. Doyle returned, his pants back on, his hair every which way. I smiled at him before standing up and attempting to flatten it down for him as he buttoned his shirt. "I'll get you a drink. Sorry about the last one." He said with a smile that made it clear he was
not
sorry about the last one. "Stay here," he said kissing me quickly. "I'll be right back."

"Wait. Help me get this thing on first," I said, crossing the room to where the corset lay crumpled next to the bookcase. He smiled and obliged, tying the ribbons a little tighter than before.

Declan left to replace my gimlet, and I stepped into my dress. It was a little wrinkled, but I didn't think anyone would notice. I was zipping it when someone said, "Hello Miss Humbolt." I swirled around holding the dress to my breast. I didn't see anyone.

"Hello," I called out. "Who's there?"

A man I'd never seen before stepped out from between the stacks. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," he said.

"How long have you been here?"

The man was a little taller than Doyle, which made him quite a bit taller than me. He was wearing a tuxedo and what looked like real diamond cufflinks that twinkled in the low lighting. "I swear I've only been watching a moment. I'm disappointed Declan didn't want to share." I held my dress tighter and took a step back. The man smiled. "I don't mean to frighten you." He came toward me. I shuffled away from him.

"How about you keep your distance," I suggested.

He laughed at that. The man was probably in his fifties. His hair was brown, with silver at the temples. "I'm sorry. I should have introduced myself. I'm Bobby Maxim. You work for me."

"Well that makes this even more awkward," I said.

He laughed. "Won't you come into the main room?" Bobby held out his hand to me, but I shook my head no.

"I'm not dressed," I said.

"You'd be considered overdressed where I want to take you."

"Then I don't want to go."

I heard the door open, and Doyle was back. When he saw Bobby, he almost dropped my tequila gimlet. "Robert," Declan said and cleared his throat. "Good to see you."

"Can you zip my dress?" I asked Declan.

Doyle handed me my drink and zipped me up. Robert didn't take his eyes off me. "I was just admiring your date. I invited her to the main room, but she seems frightened."

"I'm not scared," I said. "Just totally satisfied."

Doyle suppressed a laugh and Bobby nodded. "I like a lady who is not afraid to share her thoughts. I also like a little bruising.” He motioned to my cheek. “Did Doyle do that?"

"No," I said.

"Your lips are swollen too, I bet he did that."

"Sir—" Doyle started, but Robert stopped him with a wave of his hand. He approached me, and when I took a step back I bumped into Doyle's chest.

"I'd like to show you something, if you don't mind?" Maxim said to me. "I promise not to touch you unless you ask."

I took a sip of the tequila and watched him over the rim of the glass. His eyes were bright and intelligent. They didn't leave my gaze. "Fine," I said.

We walked through the stacks until we came to a large fireplace. "Declan, will you please?" Maxim said.

Declan scurried forward into the fireplace. It was as tall as he was, made of pale gray stone, blackened by years of smoke. Declan pushed against the back wall, and it opened. I took a deep breath, feeling the restraint of the corset.

Robert offered me his hand but I shook my head. He shrugged and led the way into a narrow room. The ceiling was only about eight feet high. Shackles lined one wall, and on the other hung whips, chains, paddles, and ball gags—everything an S&M club might need.

I felt drawn to the instruments and walked over to the display. I ran a hand over one of the whips feeling the cool leather that I knew would sting hot. That was the attraction, the dichotomy, the hot and the cold, the pain and the pleasure. All the roughest, toughest, softest, hottest feelings could be elicited right here, with these tools, among these people.

A couple entered the room from a different entrance. They were clearly intoxicated. I recognized the man almost immediately as one of the people Mulberry wanted me to find. And here he was in an S&M dungeon in the most elite club in New York City.

"Are you all playing?" he asked. The woman by his side was small and plump and very much his junior. Her eyes were glassy, and I'd have bet good money she was high.

"No, we were just leaving," I said. I led the way out of the room, my skirt swishing across the stone floor. Maxim followed closely behind me. I spilled a little of my drink onto my dress and stopped to wipe at it.

Robert was suddenly there with a pocket square. He slowly reached out. "May I?" he asked.

I shook my head. He smiled and turned to Doyle. "A woman who knows what she wants."

"And is in the room," I said. "Didn't your mother teach you that's it’s rude to pretend like a lady isn't in the room when she is?"

"Rude?" Maxim said. "You wouldn't believe how
rude
I can be." He slipped the kerchief back into his jacket pocket.

I smiled knowing that I was here to spy on him and his kind. That he wanted me but I had him right where I wanted him. 

"I dare you to touch me," I said.

He didn't wait, grabbing my wrist he yanked me against his chest. But I twisted free and slapped him hard so that my palm burned. Maxim licked at a small bead of blood pooling on his lower lip and then smiled. Declan stared at me and then Maxim.

I turned on my heel and marched out of the library. Doyle chased me down and grabbed my arm before I could get back into the front hall. "Joy, wait," he said.

"I'm fine," I said, pulling free from him.

"This is usually a shared experience. I told you why we were coming here," he said, following me down the hall.

"I don't think I like it."

"You did a minute ago. Robert doesn't mean anything. He just likes a good fight."

He was right. I had put myself in this situation. Why wouldn't that man think he could touch me? I just fucked a guy in a library. It was a joke to be acting like I was a lady. We reached the door to the main room and I turned around. "I'm sorry," I said. "You're right. I don't know why I did that."

Doyle nodded. "Well, he liked it."

"I think it's time to go," I said turning and opening the door. As we moved through the main hall, I saw that most of the older crowd had left. Elaine was cornered by a balding man in a red vest, but she did not seem to mind. There was an electric charge in the air. I stopped for a moment and turned around, surveying the whole space. Doyle looked at me, questioning.

"Are they all going to fuck each other?" I asked.

Doyle laughed. "Not all of them, but yeah, a lot of them."

"Do you do this all the time?"

He shook his head. "Not all the time."

"But a lot?"

"Enough so that I know what I'm doing."

I suddenly realized I was in way over my head.

M
y phone woke me the next day. I rolled over and tried to ignore it. I heard myself on my answering machine encouraging the caller to leave a name, number, and a brief message after the beep. "Hi, this is Julen. I am calling you back."

"Well, Blue, I guess it's time to get out of bed." He snorted softly and tucked his head farther under his back leg. I watched him breathing slowly at the foot of my bed and decided that I loved my dog. He had gained weight since moving in with me, and there was something about his soft, rhythmic breathing, his lightly closed eyelids, and the sound of air passing through his nose that overwhelmed me.

"Come on, boy. Let's get up." He ignored me. "Blue, it's time to get up." I prodded him with my foot. He grumbled but didn't move. "Fine. I'll get up." As soon as I pulled the blanket off myself, his head popped out. I slipped on a robe and made for the kitchen. My body was sore but not in a bad way. It felt like I'd spent some time at the gym working out (yeah, like that ever happened).

I turned on the radio and the coffeemaker, both of which sputtered to life. Blue followed me around the small space of the kitchen as I gathered coffee, sugar, and milk. I spooned a cup of dog food into Blue's bowl, which he crunched on as the coffee machine filled the house with the irresistible smell of fresh-brewed French roast.

After enjoying most of the pot of coffee and listening to the news of the day while staring out my living room window, I went to get dressed. I had slight bruising on my wrists, and there was no way I was putting on any tight pants. I found a long, loose skirt and a pile of bangles that made me look like a hippy but covered up the evidence of the previous night’s "play."

I took Blue for his morning business. Blue inspected a nearby tree, a somewhat fascinating piece of newspaper, and the tire of a Vespa. When I got back upstairs, my message machine blinked two. I listened to Julen's message again. The second message was from Mulberry. He sounded sad or something. He wanted me to call.

When I called Julen back he didn't sound happy to hear from me. "Why are you calling me?" he asked.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just had a couple of questions."

"Are you a cop?"

"What?"

"Don't call me anymore. I told your friends I would do what they asked. Just leave me alone. Leave me alone." He sounded on the verge of tears. Julen slammed the phone down, missed the receiver, cursed, and then another bang, and the line was dead.

"What the fuck was that about?" I asked out loud. My friends? Who would my friends be? Cops? He thinks I'm a cop. So maybe the cops asked him to do something. But what? I immediately called Mulberry.

"Hey, it's Joy."

"I'm glad you called. How did it go last night?"

I didn't want to get into that. At the moment I wasn't sure how much I wanted to tell him. I rubbed at my wrist. "Fine. I saw some of the guys you asked me to look for."

"Great, great. Can we meet?"

"How about happy hour at Flannigan's on the West Side," I suggested.

"Sure, that'd be great. Thanks again."

"It was my pleasure."

###

W
hen I went to meet Mulberry, the place was filled with smoke despite the statewide ban. Looking around the dim, wood-paneled space, I saw him at the bar talking with an older man over pints of amber beer. Not wanting to interrupt them, I walked over to the jukebox.

Four quarters bought me two songs. "Oney" by Johnny Cash—the song of a man who after 29 years of "buildin' muscles puts his point across with a right hand full of knuckles."—followed by "How Long Has This Been Going On?" sung by the one and only Judy Garland. I've never really understood that song. I couldn't tell if she has been cheated on and wants to pretend it didn't happen or if she just found out her man was cheating on her and wants to know how long it's been going on. But that had nothing to do with why I put it on. She belts out, "kiss me once, then once more" in a way that makes me tingle.

My two songs came and went. The detective's drinking partner left, and I moved around the bar to sit with Mulberry.

"Hey, how long have you been here?" he asked.

"Long enough to drink most of this pint. I'm ready for another. You?" He called over the bartender, an Irish guy with bulging muscles and piercing blue eyes, who you could just tell was a rabid rugby fan. "Another round," I told him. He moved off to pour our pints.