Chapter Five
Michelin hadn’t yet rated the restaurant at Eros’ Retreat, but they would eventually. Rae had eaten at some of the finest places in San Francisco, and the food here surpassed all of them. Plus, you could get everything from spa cuisine—light and figure conscious—to comfort dishes like mac and cheese, to European fare, with complex sauces and desserts. Rae had been good when she’d ordered the Caesar salad with shrimp for her main course. Now she allowed herself to indulge in a sinful chocolate volcano cake with hazelnut gelato on the side. She took a bite and nearly groaned out of pure pleasure. Almost as good as the sex she’d had with Nate morning, noon, and night since arriving.
Nate sat across the table, sipping the beer he’d ordered with his burger and fries. “Were you on the level about wanting to be spanked?”
Damn it, why had spanking jumped into her head? Could she want his hand slapping her butt for some reason? Would it frighten her? Excite her? What a mixed-up mess. After the big deal she’d made of this at the session, she couldn’t change her story now.
She wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Yeah, maybe.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
He didn’t have to tell her that. But sense or not, she wasn’t going to back down. “Neither does soul sharing.”
“There’s nothing ridiculous about intimacy.”
“There is when you’re talking about something that’s going to last a week.”
“We were talking about your fantasy, not mine.” He scowled. “For your information, my dad taught me to never raise a hand against a woman. Or anything smaller than me.”
“You’re not required to do it. We were just discussing it.”
He tipped his chair onto its back legs and studied her. “Are you going to ask someone else to do it?”
“No. Why would you ask a question like that?”
“Lots of people in the group would be happy to do it for you.”
“And all the women would be happy to bare their souls to you, too, I’m sure.”
He let this chair fall back into place with a thud. “Got to you, didn’t it?”
“I noticed it got to Carmen enough that she asked to speak to you after the session.” That came out sounding petulant. She had no real reason to feel jealous. He hadn’t done anything to encourage other women to approach him. He didn’t have to. They all looked at him as if he were a volcano cake, anyway.
She took another bite of her dessert. “So what did Carmen want?”
“She encouraged me to explore my dream.”
“Intimacy at the cellular level?” Rae said. “Why stop there? Why not go for DNA?”
“It isn’t any sillier than wanting to be spanked.”
“That just popped into my head,” she said. “Everyone was staring at me after your profound declarations.”
He set his beer glass down and leaned across the table toward her. “The idea of intimacy makes you uncomfortable. Why?”
“Don’t try to read too much into it, Dr. Freud.”
“You’re avoiding the subject now. You use humor to cover up your true feelings.”
“Jeez, what was in your breakfast this morning?” She turned away from him and crossed her arms over her chest. But that looked guilty—as if he’d touched a nerve—so she forced herself to face him directly. “I told you why I don’t do relationships, okay?”
“Your mother.”
“There are other reasons.”
“Name them,” he said.
“I’m too busy, for one thing,” she said. Men used that excuse, so why shouldn’t she? It wasn’t an excuse, in any case. Her column—and now this article—required her total concentration. Plus, she answered as many emails from readers as she could. Nothing beat personal contact for building a following.
“You might have noticed my job is occupying me twenty-four seven while we’re here,” she added.
“I did notice you’re playing an act this entire time.”
She put her palm on the table. Maybe a little too forcefully because her dessert fork rattled against the plate. “Why does that matter to you?”
“Maybe I’m tired of fucking a cipher. I’d like to believe there’s a real human being in there,” he said.
What a ridiculous statement. She sat and stared at him.
“All right.” He huffed. “You said your work keeps you too busy for a relationship ‘for one thing.’ What are the other things?”
“My trademark is Single and Sexy. Single. If I lose that, I’ve lost my audience.”
He humphed. “I guess.”
“What about you? Why aren’t you with your soul mate, merging cells?”
“I tried it once.” He folded his napkin and didn’t meet her eyes. “Didn’t work out.”
She didn’t say anything. If he wanted to give her the story, he’d do it. His failed relationships were really none of her business. She’d listen, of course. Tales of woe from her readers were her specialty.
“I was married,” he said. “I thought I was happy.”
“You’re divorced?”
“Yup.” He glanced up finally. “All legal with papers and everything.”
“That happens to a lot of people. Nothing to feel guilty about.”
“Worse. I lost my company in the process,” he said. “Never take money from your father-in-law for a start-up. Or at least, never let him have fifty-one percent.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’ve heard of NetManager?” he asked.
“Sure. I use it at the office.”
He tapped his chest. “My design. I only needed capital. My ex-wife’s father is rich. Voila.”
She sat up a little straighter. “You created NetManager?”
“It was my baby for years. Now Richard Mathis owns it.”
She’d read something about a shake-up at NetSolutions. She hadn’t paid any attention to the details. “I had no idea. That was you?”
“Don’t feel too bad. My father-in-law had to buy me out to get rid of me.” He held out his arms. “I have a shitload of money and no responsibilities.”
“And no marriage,” she said.
“And I plan to keep it that way.”
“I can see how you’d feel burned.”
“My fault, I guess,” he said. “I was busting my butt with seventy-hour weeks while my wife was getting bored at home. She craved attention, and I wasn’t giving her any. I didn’t know how bad things were until our marriage was pretty much shot.”
“Didn’t she realize you were doing it for the two of you?”
“Yeah, maybe.” He tapped his fingers against the tabletop and stared at them for a moment. “Maybe we were too young to get married.”
“You mustn’t think it was your fault.” Standard comfort response and generally pretty useless to the person to be comforted.
“Her golf buddy made up for the admiration I lacked. They ended up playing a lot more than golf,” he said. “It left a real sour taste in my mouth as far as romance goes. Now I don’t get into anything…”
“Deep?” She meant emotional, of course.
He drummed his fingers some more. “Yeah.”
“Nate, you’ll excuse me. This is really none of my business.”
He glanced at her out of the corners of his eyes. “But you’re going to tell me, anyway.”
“Don’t you see how this contradicts everything you said in the exercise this morning?”
Now he looked away entirely, gazing out over the restaurant’s patio.
“On the one hand, you are afraid to get involved with a someone.” Probably because he feared they’d cheat on him as his wife had. “And on the other hand, you said you want sex completely honest—the partners open to each other on the most basic level.”
“You’re right. It was crazy,” he said. “It sounded good at the time.”
“You elaborated quite a bit on it. Unless that was just an act to impress the women in the group.”
His head snapped around to face her. “I wasn’t acting. I hate dishonesty.”
“Well, then…”
“Maybe I thought I had that once. Maybe I’d like to have it again.”
“If you can take the risk,” she said. She could say the same thing about herself. Big risk.
“So, what’s on for this afternoon, Ms. Désirée Knight?” he said, his usual cheerful self returning. Totally fake, of course. She’d been so hung up on maintaining her own masquerade she hadn’t noticed his. Wasn’t that a kick in the head?
“Now that we’ve been prepared, maybe it’s time we visited the Barn.”
The Barn looked even larger on the inside. You passed through a small anteroom where an attendant checked your name against both the guest list and the appointment calendar. She even checked ID to make sure you were who you claimed to be. Then you received a key to a small locker where you could deposit your ID and anything else you didn’t want to take inside. Nate would have made a joke about fingerprinting, but maybe this was like airport security where something you thought was funny could get you kicked off a flight.
Désirée seemed to take everything in stride as they entered the main body of the structure past the reception area. The diagram had shown the Forum off to the left, and sure enough, a huge, sunken living room of sorts sat there. Couches, cushions, chaise lounges, and recliners in vivid colors clustered here and there. Recessed lighting enhanced the illumination from the skylights above. Hanging plants cascaded all around, creating almost a wall to separate the Forum from its surroundings. Luxury, for sure.
“Hey, it’s Désirée Knight and her friend,” someone called.
The gentleman who’d accompanied his swimming partner to the earlier group stood up and waved to them. He had a highball glass in his hand. “Come over. My wife wants to meet you.”
Yeah, she very likely did want to meet them, although not necessarily to pick Désirée’s brain. He put his hand at the small of Désirée’s back and walked with her in that direction.
When they got to the man, the woman with him rose. Sure enough, his friend from the pool.
“I’m Rod,” the man said. “This is my wife, Cassandra.”
“Nate and Désirée,” Nate said.
Rod chuckled. “Désirée’s the only person at all of Eros’ Retreat with a last name.”
“I love your column, and you’re the cutest little thing.” Cassandra grabbed Désirée’s arms and air kissed both of her cheeks.”
“I’m nothing if not cute,” Désirée said.
“And you, big handsome guy.” Cassandra inserted herself between Rod and Nate to give Nate a hug. She held on too long until Nate eased himself out of her embrace. On the surface, Désirée appeared calm, but Nate knew her well enough to realize Cassandra had been wise not to try to push Désirée out of the way to get to him. Definitely jealous, which did make her cute.
“Can I buy you folks a drink?” Rod asked.
“I’d rather keep my senses at full capacity,” Nate answered. They hadn’t discussed what all they’d do in the Barn, after all. Soul sharing was out of the question on a week’s date, and Désirée didn’t really want to be spanked. Unless she suggested visiting one of the Dungeons, and then, he’d have to rethink things.
“I’m on the job,” Désirée said.
“Then sit down and enjoy the show,” Rod said.
Désirée sat between Rod and Nate, which pretty much forced Cassandra to sit on the other side of her husband. Not much of the Forum was occupied. One couple sat off to the side, engaged in a passionate kiss. The man’s hand moved inside the woman’s blouse, and she pressed her palm against the crotch of his slacks.
“First time in the Barn?” Rod asked.
“Must be yours, too, if you just went through Darkest Desires,” Nate said.
“We do that all the time,” Rod said. “Helps us get to know who we’re going to find in here.”
“Like you two,” Cassandra said.
“Do you really do the vampire thing?” Désirée asked.
“I never drink…wine,” Rod answered in a fair imitation of an old-time vampire. He and Cassandra laughed.
“What about you two?” Cassandra leaned across her husband toward Nate. Of course she really only ended up with Désirée. “Are you two as close as Nate suggested?”
Good question. The obvious answer was no. They were only hooking up for their stay here. So what had made him talk about sharing souls? To tease Désirée about her failure to show him her real self. But maybe he’d meant more. He’d hoped to get to know the shy woman who wrote the funny and insightful columns. She was in there somewhere. And the more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to see her let go and be real with him.
“That kind of intimacy is an interesting idea,” Nate said. “Difficult to achieve.”
“Ah, here are the Senators,” Rod said.
A group of people wearing ancient Roman clothing entered the Forum. A woman led them. Someone Nate hadn’t noticed before, and that would have been difficult given she was probably over six feet tall. She held one end of a gilded leash with the other around the neck of the man directly behind her.
“Interesting,” Désirée said. “Do they always do this?”
“We’ve seen it few times,” Rod answered. “The resort is new, but this may become a tradition.”
“This is the Forum,” Cassandra added.
All the new arrivals took seats except for the woman in the lead and the man on her leash.
“This man, my husband, has betrayed my trust,” the woman said. “I found him in bed with another woman.”
Fake gasps went up among the crowd. The whole thing was obviously staged.
“What do you have to say for yourself, cur?” the woman demanded.
He hung his head. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
“What does the Senate say?” the woman boomed. “Freedom or punishment?”
Hands went out, and then the group turned thumbs down.
“You might enjoy the punishment, my dear,” Rod said to Désirée.
“You will atone by bringing every woman here to climax,” the woman said. “With your tongue.”
Enjoying the man’s punishment would be easy for the women Senators, who wore loose gowns. Désirée was in snug slacks. They’d agreed not to indulge with other partners, and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach said that wouldn’t sit well with him. Maybe she wasn’t the only jealous one.
When the woman unhooked the man’s collar from her leash, he went to the closest woman in costume and knelt before her. He lifted her skirts and went to work.
With his head in the way, they didn’t have a view of her pussy, but the expression on her face—a hazy smile and closed eyes—said he’d found his target.
“Fascinating,” Désirée said. “I wonder if they do this in their everyday life.”
“I doubt it,” Rod said. “The Barn gives them freedom.”
“The costumes also help, I imagine,” Désirée said.
Just as her own costume allowed her to play the uninhibited Princess of Pleasure she pretended to be. Probably a lack of self-confidence kept her from integrating the two separate parts of herself. If she never put her real person out there, she couldn’t be rejected. And if someone turned away from this version of Désirée Knight, well, that wasn’t her true self, so no loss.
Just about when he’d processed that idea, the male Senators’ first partner climaxed with a shout. The rest of the people applauded, including Rod and Cassandra.
“Did you enjoy that?” Nate asked quietly.
“Yeah,” Désirée answered. “I’ve seen porn, of course, but that was real.”
“You should try one of the Theaters.” Rod patted her hand. “You’ll get a full show.”
“And not on film,” Cassandra added.
Nate bent his face toward Désirée’s ear. “What do you think?”
“Voyeurism? Kinky.”
“Kinky bad, or kinky good?” he asked.
“There is no bad if it’s consensual,” she said in her sex-maven voice.
“No, I mean it.” This time he put his arm around her. “Do you want to do it or not?”
“What about you?” she said.
“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t want to.”
“Give it a try,” Rod said. “You’ll enjoy it.”
“Sure, let’s go.” She stood and held her hand out to Nate. He took it, and they left the Forum. A glance back showed the man in the collar still working on his second woman. Other Senators had raised their clothing to expose erect cocks, and some of the men were playing with themselves. The whole thing could turn into an orgy. Maybe they should have stuck around for that. Right now, though, a more private performance suited his needs—and desires—more.
They passed the Baths on their way toward the Theaters. They were more Roman than the Forum in appearance—a large tub made of marble of various colors. Everyone inside appeared to be naked, including Louise and Sam from the Darkest Desires session.
A small side hallway led off from there. A sign with “Theaters” over another reception desk told him they’d found the right place.
“We’d like to try this,” Nate said.
Another woman in resort uniform smiled. “Good. There’s a couple waiting in number three.
“They’re the ones doing the…um…performing, right?” he asked.
“That depends,” she answered.
“On…”
“Whether you want to remain anonymous or have them see you.”
He glanced at Désirée. She’d kept her expression neutral.
“What do you think?” he asked.
She turned toward the receptionist. “Is there a preference?”
“This couple hasn’t indicated one,” the woman answered. “Generally, our exhibitionists like to know for sure someone is watching them.”
“We’ll be seen, then,” Désirée said.
“Very good.” The woman handed Nate an old-fashioned metal key. “Number three. Try to remember to bring the key out with you.”