CHAPTER THIRTY
“I need to make an appointment with Lucian Reddick for this Saturday.” It's impossible to keep the disdain from my voice. Hopefully, the guy who mans the telephone will just think that I'm having a bad day. I am having a bad day. A bad day. A bad week. A bad month. A bad everything. Ever since I met Lucian Reddick.
“Sir Lucian,” the man parrots absentmindedly as if he's busy doing something. I can hear him clicking on a keyboard. A few minutes later, he speaks again. “Sir Lucian appears to be completely booked up this Saturday.”
My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach. Completely booked up. That means he is fucking other women. He's been fucking other women this entire time.
“How about Sunday?” I sigh, my stress building with every second spent on the phone as I think about how I've been played.
“You got lucky.” The man's voice perks. “He has one opening left.”
“Pencil me in. I don't care what time.”
“Name?”
“Mary Smith,” I read the name from a post-it note in front of me. It's a generic name, one that would bring up a billion results on a Google or Facebook search, not that I think anyone will actually take the time to research it.
“Mary Smith,” he repeats the name back to me slowly, and I can hear him typing on the other end of the line. “Have you been a client of Sir Lucian's before?”
“No. This will be my first time at Flesh,” I lie. “But Sir Lucian came highly recommended by a friend.”
“He's a good Dom. You'll have a good experience with him,” the guy assures me.
“I'm sure I will,” I grumble, thinking about the first time I ever met Lucian. He was supposed to be my rent-a-Dom for a night. A taste into the lifestyle. One taste turned him into a quick addiction, but I was able to fight my need for the experience again.
It feels like I was smarter back then, realizing that he was bad for me. I can distinctly remember throwing the Flesh business card in the trash, knowing that I'd had my fun, but that it was time to get back to reality. He wasn't what I needed then, and he's not what I need now.
Seeing him again though—discovering that he was my new potential client—my body awakened to the possibilities of...I don't know what. It was easy to give in to him when he plied me with slick words and his domination tactics. I felt like it would be okay to give in to him. How wrong I was.
I'm not built for having fuck buddies. The strings between my heart and pussy are not detached. If a guy sticks his dick in there, I'm going to acquire some sort of feelings for him. I knew that before I slept with Lucian. I had just hoped that, by some miracle, he'd be an exception to the rule. He wasn't, and now here I am, practically stalking a man who obviously never had any kind intentions towards my feelings.
It seems almost insane that I'd go to such lengths to see him again. To give him a piece of my mind. I can't let this go though. I need to tell him everything I'm thinking and feeling so that my soul can start healing from ever knowing him.
***
My Saturday is spent sitting tensely on the sofa watching my phone more than the television. There's the tiniest glimmer of hope that either Lucian or Derrick will text me. I don't even care which one, at this point. Of course, I'd love it if they both contacted me, but I'm not going to get greedy about it.
Janice is at Flesh again. She's addicted to her Sir, and I can't help but think it's unhealthy. A bitter part of me wants to see Flesh get shut down. It's a place of perversion and prostitution. At least, that's what it seems like to me now.
Nothing illegal goes on there though. You can request sex with a Dom, but they don't have to honor it. I know that because I've read everything on their website about a thousand times since I made my Sunday appointment with Lucian. The line about sexual content between client and Dominant was in fine print at the bottom of their list of services. Soliciting sex from your Dominant or Domme will result in termination of your contract without a refund. Any sexual acts that take place within a scene are at the discretion of two consenting adults. We do not offer sex as a service here but provide the option on the kink sheet so that the Dominant or Domme will know the extent of your limits.
Still sounds like legal prostitution to me.
Distracting myself is near impossible. Every time a sex scene flashes across the television, I picture Lucian with the heroine, whoever she may be. I wonder if he's having sex with someone else while I pathetically sit at home and think about him. I wonder if he's even thinking about me at all, or if I'm already a distant memory to him. There's nothing spectacular about me. Nothing that would hold a guy like him interested. That's obvious. Because if he was still interested in me, he'd call me or reply to my texts or...something.
My nerves are on edge when I lay down to sleep on Saturday night. All I can think about is what I'm going to say to Lucian. Will I be able to hold myself together without completely whaling on him? The thought of slapping him is more than appealing. A swift kick to the family jewels would probably do him some good too. One thing is for certain, I definitely won't be walking into Flesh as a submissive.
After only a few restless hours of sleep, Sunday finally comes. It feels like there's a thrumming inside of my head from stress. It's way too early to feel this horrible. But hopefully, this is the last time I'll have to feel this way because of Lucian Reddick. When I leave Flesh today, we will be officially done on all levels. Physically. Emotionally. Professionally. It's an almost liberating feeling, knowing that I'm going to reclaim my heart from a man who has been carelessly destroying it over the past few weeks.
I sit on the sofa and stare at the clock, watching it tick down to my appointment with Lucian. An hour before our meeting time, I start getting dressed. There's not going to be anything easy access about me tonight.
I slip a pair of pink leggings on under a blue plaid skirt, then shimmy into a gray camisole and layer a brown long-sleeved shirt on top. I pull my hair back into a high ponytail, because I know he prefers it when I wear my hair down. Then I paint my face in nude tones, not taking much care in how decent I look. I want to come off as boring—too boring for him.
I climb into my car and turn the key in the ignition. The entire way over to Flesh, I'm plagued with tiny heart palpitations. Damn, he's really not good for my health. I'm so nervous that I'm starting to second guess myself. Maybe this is a bad idea. Perhaps I should just let our relationship die out naturally. Is it really necessary for me to get my feelings across to him? Wouldn't not showing up for the appointment be a subtle sort of revenge? He wouldn't get paid for that thirty minutes, and that should piss him off good and well.
That won't help me though. I have to keep reminding myself that I'm doing this for me, not him. If I don't talk about how I feel, these thoughts will eat away at me until I have a nervous breakdown and start hating all men. I don't want that. I shouldn't allow him to scar me so deeply.
When I pull up in front of Flesh, I can't help but frown. The place looks so shoddy, I'm surprised that Janice was ever able to convince me to come in the first place. It's in an old warehouse with the word Flesh above the door in large flickering red neon letters, like something from a horror movie. In broad daylight, I imagine it's a little less intimidating, but with the sun setting in the distance, one would half-expect to see rats hiding around the corner of the building. Perhaps that's being a bit too harsh though. It is on the nicer side of town, and the parking lot is well kept and lit sufficiently. I'm probably just being bitter, because the appearance of the building never really bothered me before. It's low key, just the way a place selling these kinds of services should be.
I push my car door open and let my gaze dance around the parking lot. Paranoia attacks me from all sides, worrying that Lucian will see me coming. That's not very realistic though. The front desk guy said that Lucian only had one opening left, which means that he's probably with a client right now. There are a handful of cars in the parking lot. One likely belongs to the girl he's screwing.
Too bad Lucian doesn't drive himself anywhere. If his car was here, I might key it instead of going to my appointment. That would probably make me feel better, though I'm not sure why. He has enough money to fix any damage I could do to his property without much of a headache, and I'm willing to bet that I'm not the first girl who has thought of trashing his things out of anger.
I take long strides up to the front door, holding my breath as I pull it open. The guy I spoke to on the phone is sitting at the front desk, and he smiles up at me. For a moment, I worry that he recognizes me, but if he does, he doesn't say anything about it.
“Good evening,” he greets me politely.
I force a smile, thinking about how unimposing he looks. He's around my age, if not younger. Polished, wearing a brown suit and striped tie. His dark hair is slicked to one side. His eyes are almost black, and there's a strange mischievousness radiating off of him. I can tell he's a pervert, just like the rest of these BDSM people. He probably gets off to the thought of women being tied up and beaten. Hell, he probably gets a lot of Lucian's sloppy seconds.
“Are you a Dom?” I ask, more out of curiosity than anything else as I ease myself into the chair in front of him.
“I'm in training.” He beams at me, showing two rows of perfect teeth. With a bit of practice, he could easily be every bit as charming as Lucian. “Why? Are you interested?”
“Not particularly.” I shoot him down without a hint of remorse. I want nothing to do with anyone in the lifestyle ever again. Except Janice, of course.
My quick rejection seems to stun him. He stares at me blankly for a minute before clicking his mouse a few times and then crossing his hands on the desk, trying to regain his composure. “You have an appointment?”
“That's why I'm here.” If I sounded anymore bitter, the room might pucker and kill us both.
“And you are?” He gazes down at some papers on his desk as if there are a thousand clients waiting to see their Doms.
“Mary Smith. I have an appointment with Lucian Reddick.”
“Ah yes.” He gives me a half-cocked smile before pushing a folder towards me.
It's too familiar. The folder that holds my information and my list of kinks. For a moment, I worry that it's the same folder from last time, the one that I filled out under my real name, but when I open it up, I find it pleasantly blank.
“You look familiar,” he muses, making my breath catch in my throat for a split second.
“I look like a lot of people.” I grab a pen from the pen holder on his desk. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
The hint of recognition in his expression fades away as he turns his attention to my folder. “Fill out your information on this page, including your level of experience with the lifestyle. On the next page is a list of kinks you'd like to try. You can check off as many boxes as you want, but please know that your Dom probably won't be able to get to all of them. If there is anything in particular that you really want to do, put a number by it to indicate where it falls in your list of priorities. Our Doms do their best to accommodate all of our clients' deepest fantasies.”
Nice. I want to grunt, but I don't. Instead, I get busy filling out the paperwork. I use a fake name, fake address, fake phone number, and mark myself down as a veteran submissive. Then when I get to the kink page, I check off everything except the things that Lucian and I did in our first scene together. When it comes to prioritizing what I want, the pen lingers over the check box for sex.
“Does Lucian Reddick usually have sex with his clients?” I dare to ask.
The lines in the man's face deepen as if he knows the answer will hold some weight with me. “That's confidential information. Everything that goes on during a scene is between the Dominant and the submissive.”
“I just want to make sure I'm getting my money's worth.” I shrug, putting a big fat #1 in front of sex.
The man shifts in his chair uncomfortably. “I apologize, Miss Smith, but you do realize that this isn't a prostitution operation.”
“I realize it.” I ignore him, marking off my other two fake top priorities: fisting and humiliation. Neither of which I'd ever want to try. “Sex happens though, and I'm sure it happens a lot here.”
“I can't say.” A mischievous grin spreads across his lips.
“You don't have to. I know.” I shove the completed paperwork and folder back in front of him.
He flips it open as if it's any of his business what I want Lucian to do to me. After he scans down my list of kinks, he closes the folder and looks back up at me. “It will be $150 for a half-hour session. The fee is collected up-front. How would you like to pay?”
My jaw clenches at the thought that I'm paying good money to tell Lucian off. I knew they'd collect the fee beforehand though, so I'm not sure why I'm getting so heated about it. Grudgingly, I pull my wallet out of my purse and find my credit card to hand over to him.
The man looks down at the name stamped on the card, then he glances back up at me. “ID please.”
I give him my driver's license, feeling increasingly nervous that he might rat me out to Lucian.
“I would prefer it if you do not give Sir Reddick my real name. I want this session to be completely about fantasy, keeping my personal information confidential. I'm a very influential person in my day to day life, so confidentiality is of utmost importance to me. You spoke about confidentiality earlier, so I assume that won't be an issue.” My eyes burn into his, silently telling him that I'll be pissed if he blabs.
“Certainly, Miss...” He looks at my driver's license. “Underwood.”
It feels like he's mocking me, but I don't bother saying anything else on the matter. All I can do is trust that he's trustworthy, which I don't.
This is where things could really fall apart. If he tells Lucian who I am, I'm not sure what Lucian will do. Maybe he won't even show up.
I wait while the guy runs my credit card. When he hands it back to me, I shove it and my wallet into my purse. He then stands, gesturing to the door. “Are you ready?”
“I suppose so. How does this work, exactly?” I get up to follow him.
“You'll be assigned to a room.” He opens the door leading to the area where all the scene rooms are, ushering me in. “In the closet, you'll find a selection of outfits that you can wear for your Dom. I'm sure you'll find something to your liking.” I can hear the grin in his voice. I have zero intentions of putting on anything slutty for Lucian. He's going to get me as-is. “Once you've changed, you can flip the switch next to the door. It will turn an outside light on that will inform your Dom that you're ready to start your scene.”
He leads me to the end of the hall and opens the door on the right with a key card. When I look inside, I'm surprised to find that it's completely different from the room that I was in when I first came to Flesh. This one is bigger. More like a dungeon than a bedroom. The walls are painted red, and the furniture is all black aside from a stockade that's also painted red to match the room. There's a Saint Andrew's Cross, a small metal cage, and what appears to be some type of sex hammock. And of course, there's the standard rack on the wall with paddles, canes, floggers, and ball gags galore. I'm apprehensive to step inside. The whole ambiance makes me incredibly uncomfortable, especially knowing that Lucian has probably used all of this stuff on someone else. And recently too.
I try not to seem like a noob as I walk into the room and give it a look around. The cocky little office bastard is grinning at me, assessing my reaction. My insecurity is probably starting to shine through, but I quickly try to reign it in, taking long strides to the small closet in the far corner of the room as if I'm actually interested in changing.
“Sir Lucian prefers that his submissives wait for him on their knees. So whenever you're ready, flick the light switch, then come to the center of the room, face the door, and kneel. Place your hands behind your back and bow your head respectfully. He'll give you instructions when he enters. Do you understand?” There's the slightest hint of dominance in his voice as he rattles off what I'm to do. It's as if he's trying to practice on me, and I can't help but scowl.
“Got it, chief.” I mock salute him in complete disrespect, silently telling him to get lost. I've got this.
I can see the muscles in his face tense as he realizes that I won't allow myself to be bullied. No doubt, if he doesn't tell Lucian who I really am, he'll at least probably tell him that I'm a complete brat. Surely, they have that much communication.
When the door is shut behind me, I let out an audible sigh. Be on my knees in the middle of the room? Is that a new rule of Lucian's? He didn't ask that of me the first time I came here. Then again, I was a complete novice wanting the lightest experience possible. Perhaps he knew that would be too intimidating for me.
Absentmindedly, I open the closet and then close it again, not even bothering to peek inside. I don't care what's in there. A dozen outfits that Lucian has already seen before on different bodies. I just need something to still my nerves before I flip that switch and know that there's no turning back.
“You can do this, Amy.” I fan myself with my hand. As soon as the front desk guy closed the door, it felt like the temperature in the room jumped up by about twenty degrees. I know it's just me though, my nerves heating me up from the inside. “You've got to do this.”
I take long strides across the room, knowing that time is ticking. If I keep stalling, I might not get out what I need to say. That would be a travesty considering that I'm paying $5 per minute for this.
I inhale deeply and close my eyes before flipping the switch to signify that I'm ready. Then I dash across the room to stand in front of the Saint Andrew's Cross with my back towards the door, pretending to run my fingertips down the long wooden beams. I want Lucian to be absolutely shocked when he sees me standing there. I want to watch that smug look on his face melt away and be replaced with shear discomfort at the fact that I chased him down.
It's so quiet that every one of my senses is on high alert. I listen for the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, but I hear nothing. Now that I think about it, as soon as the office guy closed the door, all outside noise was lost. This room is well insulated, unlike the first one I was in. I can't help but wonder if it's so that no one will hear me scream.
I tap one of my blue pumps on the floor in nervousness. This place is strangely silent for a house of pleasure and pain. Recalling my first time at Flesh, I don't remember hearing anyone moaning or screaming when I was led to my room. It was the same this time too. Though I do remember hearing Lucian's footsteps. Maybe it wasn't as busy last time. Or perhaps they purposely have thick walls to contain everyone's individual experience. I'm confused now and putting way too much thought into it.
Minutes tick by, and as they do, I find myself getting more irritable. It's the same as last time. He's late. Doesn't he have any regard for the fact that people pay good money for this? No. Because he's a selfish asshole through and through. How he ever became successful at anything with his lack of punctuality is a mystery to me.
Eventually, I get tired of posing for his entry. I let out an exasperated breath towards the ceiling and put my hands on my hips, briefly leaning my forehead against the cool wood of the cross. Almost the second that I do, I draw away, thinking about how many sweaty bodies have been pinned up against it. Disgusting.
Finally, I hear the sound of the door knob turning. My body tenses, and I quickly reposition myself to look purposeful, though it seems more artificial than natural. I forgot how to act natural the second that I realized how real this situation is, that I'm finally going to face Lucian and tell him off for everything he's done to me.
“Good evening.” His deep voice sends a shiver rolling down my spine.
He doesn't recognize me. At least, the way he's speaking to me is indicative of that. So professional, so controlled. I'm about to unravel him completely. Take that thick thread of certainty he's holding onto and rip it wide open.
“Good evening, Lucian.” I spin on my heels to face him.
Priceless. This was exactly what I wanted. His perfect expression falters for a moment. There's a flash of nervousness behind his eyes, but he quickly recovers. It's too late. I saw it there. I saw that he's shaken.
“Amy. What a pleasant surprise.” He drags his tongue across his bottom lip. I can't help but wonder if his mouth became as dry as mine did the second his eyes landed on me.
“Is it?” I subtly lift my eyebrow, trying to control the bitchiness in my voice. I don't want him to see how hurt I am. Not yet.
“It pleases me greatly that you'd be open to delving deeper into my...interests.” A warmth comes to his heavenly blue eyes, and his lips quirk into a smirk, the kind that makes my body heat up from my overwhelming attraction to him.
He looks all the part of a Dom in black leather pants and a matching double-breasted vest. His arms are firm with muscle, his chest peeking out from under the vest. He's a picture of Dominant perfection. Exquisitely put together like sexual divinity in the flesh.
I feared that this intense pull toward him might happen. My only defense against it is getting down to business before he has a chance to put his hands on me. I have to remember what he's done to my heart. What he does to my heart. How careless and horrible he is. There aren't enough good looks and big dicks in the world to make up for that.
“I fear you're mistaken, Sir. I'm not here for that.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Is that so?” His smirk broadens. It's very obvious that he doesn't believe me. Even more obvious that he thinks he's going to seduce me out of my wits. He takes a step forward, and I hold my hands out, hoping to keep distance between us.
“That is so.” I take a deep breath and avert my eyes, not wanting to look at him any longer. “I came to find out what gives.”
“What gives?” he says the words one at a time as if they're not even English.
“Yes, what gives? You don't return my texts. You haven't answered my emails.” I count his transgressions on my fingers. “I haven't heard hide nor hair from you since we picked out the furniture for your bedroom.”
“I've been busy, Amy.” I can hear the frown in his voice.
“Busy? Busy! Really, Lucian?” I quirk my head back. “Busy is when you get backed up for a night and can't respond to me until the next morning. You haven't been busy. You've been completely unresponsive.”
He approaches me, and I cower against the cross, hating myself for showing vulnerability, especially since there's no point in it. Nothing is going to stop him from doing what he wants. Nothing ever has.
He reaches out to take me by the shoulders, and I slap one of his hands as hard as I can before recoiling. By some miracle, he gets the hint and drops his arms to his sides, giving me a quizzical look.
“I'm glad that you're here, Amy.” He tries to touch me again, this time my face, and again I slap his hand away, quickly side stepping him to get out from beneath his intimidating frame.
“I doubt you care that I'm here.” I hug myself tightly.
“You know that's not true.” He casts a weary glance over his shoulder.
“I hate this place.” I look around the room, feeling sheer disgust boiling inside of me. I can almost smell the sex coming off of the furniture, see the writhing bodies like shadows, hear the muted screams of pain. It seems more like a dungeon in the medieval sense than the pleasurable sense. The dungeon where Lucian has kept my heart captive and slowly tortured it to death. “I hate this place almost as much as I hate you.”
“Are we really going to do this again?” He rolls his eyes.
“We wouldn't have to do this again if you were a decent human being. That doesn't matter anymore though. I see you for what you are.” My body tenses as I glare at him.
“A man who doesn't have redecorating his home as a top priority?”
“A man who is bad business, both professionally and emotionally. I came here today to tell you that I'm done with you, Lucian. In every sense of the word. I'm done. So past done.” I suck in a deep breath to keep my tears at bay. The wave of emotion that has hit me from saying those words is completely unexpected. I absolutely loathe that I'm showing him far more raw emotion than he deserves. Even more so that he's not taking it seriously.
His mouth is still quirked into an infuriating grin. He holds his arms out and crosses the room towards me. I step back, trying to avoid him. When he attempts to pull me into his arms, I kick him as hard as I can in the shin and then slide around him to put space between us again.
“Ow.” He nearly doubles over to rub his injured leg. The smug expression he was wearing only seconds ago is gone, replaced by what appears to be confusion with a dash of anger.
“Ow.” I mock him. “Oh woe is you. Your poor little leg,” the words sound like venom spilling from my mouth. I can feel the heat in them, my tongue practically burning my lips. “That bruise will heal in a week. My heart, on the other hand...” my voice trails off, and I have to swallow back another wave of emotion from breaking to the surface.
“I never had any ill intentions towards you.” He straightens himself. Now he's being completely serious. There's no lust or amusement.
“That may be true, but you've hurt me more than any man ever has. And I'm done with it.” There's a strange sense of satisfaction in knowing that I'm finally standing up for myself. That I'm getting all of this out into the open. Coming here was a good idea after all. It feels like a heavy weight is slowly being lifted from my shoulders. The burden of pining over a man who never cared for me. The weight of my own naivety and illogical desire.
“How have I hurt you?” He cocks an eyebrow.
“Are you really asking me that?” I gesture into the air erratically.
“Yes, I'm really asking you that,” his voice is clipped, as if he's offended by the notion that I think he purposely set out to hurt me.
I still for a moment, trying to figure out how to word what I want to say. The thought of gushing my feelings—my true feelings about him—is painful. I don't want him to see how deeply he's wounded me, because I think that he won't care. But I need to do this. I won't be able to heal properly if I don't. I'll only create more regrets that it will take me even longer to get over.
“I like you Lucian. A lot.” It's a pathetic start, but it's a start. I wait for him to respond, but he doesn't. He simply stands there, staring at me patiently. “I told you I don't fuck and run. I've told you that time and time again. And I knew from the beginning that's the type of guy you are. I knew you were bad for me, but I just...” I turn my gaze to the floor. “I'm so used to sweet, charming, loving men. The guys who buy you flowers and wine and dine you. Part of me hoped you'd eventually become like that. Because I know that's what I need.”
“If you know that's what you need, then why did you keep coming back?” his tone is cold, as if this whole thing is my fault. It only makes me feel worse.
“I didn't plan to keep coming back. You kept pulling me in. This is your fault, not mine.” I look up at him, my eyes full of all the bitterness that I feel inside. “You kept seducing me with your slick words. You made me believe things that weren't true. You made me feel things I never should have felt for you.”
“What did I make you believe that you think wasn't true?”
“That you actually cared.” I hug myself tighter. “When you told me about your wife and son. When you told me that you were scared about the things you were feeling. It was all lies so that I wouldn't leave.”
“You assume way too much about me.”
“What am I supposed to assume? You're hot one minute and cold the next. All over me for days, and then I don't hear from you for an entire week.”
Lucian lets out a sigh and glances away. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and releases it with a small hissing sound. “Amy,” he hesitates. “I don't know how to do this.”
It's so vague that I can't even grasp any meaning from it. “You don't have to do anything, Lucian. As I said, I'm done with you. I just needed to come here and tell you. Tell you how much you hurt me. Tell you how you damaged me, how it will probably be a really long time before I trust another man again. Maybe I won't ever trust a man again. I don't know.”
“Amy.” His expression sulks, and I finally see a twinge of remorse behind his eyes.
I hold my hand out to stop him from saying anything more. “I'm telling Tyra to take me off of your project. I don't care what she assumes. I'm not even sure you had any intentions of completing it.” I furrow my brows at him, searching for an answer in his expression.
“I did. I just got caught up in other things.” His gaze falls to the floor.
For several moments, the room is silent. I expect him to say something. Anything. He doesn't though. And I'm quickly growing tired of standing here with my nerves on the edge.
“Goodbye, Lucian Reddick. You're the worst thing that ever happened to me, and I pray to God that no girl ever has to go through what you put me through.”