CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
____________________
Calder
The loud startling crack of a single-tail bull whip echoed through the large room, followed immediately by a long heartfelt groan of pleasure. The sounds were accompanied by the softer background noise of quiet conversation, low throbbing sensual music, and clinking drinks. It was all punctuated by the familiar thuds of floggers and the smacks of paddles on willing flesh, along with blissful cries of ecstasy and the unmistakable wet slapping sounds of sex. It was just another normal Friday night in the public dungeon room at Désir Dangereux, my BDSM club.
I was sitting by myself in the broodingly Gothic room unaffected by its darkly erotic ambiance, or by the sights and sounds of the hedonistic sexual playground surrounding me. I stared off into space with a blank expression, not really seeing anything.
One of my waitstaff, dressed in all black as usual, stopped next to my low black club chair and set a bottle of sparkling water on the small table next to me. I slipped out of my reverie enough to thank her absently and picked up the drink to begin mindlessly sipping at it.
My chair was one of many chairs and sofas near the center of the room, grouped around a small raised-up round stage where the couple using the bull whip were currently playing. The woman was restrained and spread eagle on a St. Andrews cross as the man wielded his whip with precision and skill. More St. Andrew's crosses, spanking benches, stockades, and A-frames for suspension were set up around the circumference of the room, most of them being put to very good use tonight.
Ordinarily, I'd be enjoying the show, especially the one on the center stage. I had an affinity for single-tails, particularly the shorter signal whip that I favored. I loved to watch one in use almost as much as I enjoyed using one myself, but tonight it held no interest for me. I'd hoped leaving my office here to sit in the dungeon for a while would distract me from the maelstrom of chaotic thoughts and emotions in my head that were keeping me from focusing on work. It wasn't helping. My head was still filled with thoughts of Ella and sex, and feelings of longing, guilt, and shame.
I didn't know how I let myself lose control like that with her last night, but with her soft body in my arms and those sweet-tasting lips against mine, I'd completely lost it. It felt so good. I'd given in to my baser urges, and in the process took advantage of an emotionally vulnerable woman, a woman I shouldn't even want in the first place. I'd given in to a selfish pursuit of pleasure without a thought to anything beyond the moment. It was a familiar pattern of behavior I'd fallen into many times in the past when I was still using heroin. The guilt and shame intensified, now made worse by the added fear that my loss of control meant that I was spiraling toward a relapse, and the end of this new life I'd somehow managed to build for myself against all odds.
After Ella left my office in tears last night, it had taken me a while to calm my panicked and horrified reaction to what happened. By the time I emerged to go find her and talk to her, so I could apologize, she had already gone home, siting illness according to Gwen. I couldn't blame her. What I did was reprehensible.
Tonight, after stewing and fretting all day over what happened, I'd chosen cowardice and decided to spend my evening at Désir Dangereux, and avoid The Indigo Room and Ella altogether. I doubt she wanted to see me anyway. I shouldn't want to see her either.
Unfortunately, I couldn't avoid the memories of what happened or the unsettling fact that I wanted her again. I wanted her on her knees at my feet, ready and willing to be dominated and to take all the pleasure/pain I could give her. I ached to feel her skin on mine and to bury myself deep inside her over and over again, to bathe her insides with my seed and make her mine. I closed my eyes and sighed. What the fuck was wrong with me? I should still hate her. I shouldn't want anything to do with her.
"Mr. Rennen, sir?" a deep male voice said quietly next to me.
I opened my eyes and glanced up to find Pete leaning down closely to speak to me with a calm expression. The big bear of a man looming over me was the head of my security, and he spent his time between Désir Dangereux and The Indigo Room as much as I did.
"Mr. Landis is here to see you," he rumbled out in his British accent. "He's waiting by the main bar."
"Thank you, Pete," I replied with a smile, thrilled by my unexpected visitor and the possibility of a distraction that might actually work. Pete nodded and walked away, his steps surprisingly light and graceful for a man of his immense size.
I rose and followed in his wake, leaving the dungeon and making my way across the decadently decorated main room of the club with its swirling lights and pulsing dance music. I passed the throng of erotically gyrating bodies on the dance floor. All the women were dressed in lingerie and scandalous evening wear, and the men were in suits. My club had a strict dress code, and sex and nudity were only allowed in the dungeon or the private rooms we provided for those not into public play.
At the main bar across the room, I spotted my visitor, Rex Landis, my friend, my mentor, and the closest thing I'd ever had to a father. I'd known him for close to thirteen years now, ever since he first hired me as a barback at Rexy's Bar. He'd watched me sink down to my lowest after Ella left me, been there for me through the struggle to climb up out of the hole I'd tried to bury myself in, and helped me become the success I was now. Without him, I wouldn't be here. He'd seen something in me that I couldn't even see. I had an eye for running a business and investing. Rex recognized it immediately. He gave me a chance to use my talent, and I quickly proved myself. My input was instrumental in Rex's success and later mine, when I struck out on my own with Scott and founded R&C LTD.
As I approached, his whiskey brown eyes lit up and a wide smile spread amidst his long full beard that was expertly groomed and a slightly lighter shade of gray than his equally thick head of short hair. He was only a few inches shorter than me, and dressed in a light-gray suit with a black shirt underneath.
"Hey, kid!" he said warmly, practically having to shout over the music. He pulled me into a backslapping bear-hug. "It's good to see you."
"You too, Rex!" I replied sincerely, ignoring the urge to stiffen from the physical affection. It wasn't something I was really comfortable with since I didn't get much of it growing up, but I'd gotten used to it from Rex.
I motioned for him to follow me, and we headed toward the door just past the bar that led to the back hall, intending to take him to my office here, so we could talk. I opened it and motioned him through ahead of me. As he passed, I noted that his face was tanner than when I last saw him, his expression relaxed and content.
"I see the Italian Rivera agreed with you," I said once the door closed and the loud dance music was muted. He'd been gone on his trip for over a month. Now that he was retired, he'd decided to do some traveling, and I was happy for him.
"You have no idea," he replied as we walked to my office. "I've never seen anything like it, the sea, the views, the people." He sighed as his smile turned wistful. "It was magical. I never thought Jo and I would get to visit a place like that." Jo, which was short for Josephine, was Rex's wife of forty years.
"What are you doing back so soon then?" I asked as we reached my office door, and I opened it.
"Jo was getting a bit home sick, and missed her sister and her family." He grinned as he walked past me into the room. "And you. She wants you to come over for dinner next week."
I grinned back at him. "I'd love to."
Jo was just as important to me as Rex. They continuously tried to help me while I was using, even when I refused to let them. When I finally agreed to get help, they took me into their home and got me into rehab multiple times while I struggled to get sober. Then they helped me get my feet back under me after I finally succeeded in getting clean for good. They didn't have any kids of their own, and basically took in a twenty-seven-year-old addict as their adoptive son. To this day, I didn't understand it, and I didn't know what I would have done without them.
I went around my desk and took a seat as Rex sat down across from me.
"The place looks to be doing very well, just like I knew it would be in your capable hands," Rex commented proudly. Rex opened Désir Dangereux well over a decade ago, and when he was ready to retire earlier this year, I'd bought it from him along with the rest of his businesses. I paid an almost exorbitant price, even though he unsuccessfully tried to refuse it, so I could repay him for all the help he'd given me over the years, and ensure that he retired well and in style.
"Thanks," I replied succinctly, uncomfortable with his compliment. I didn't grow up with much of those either.
"How are you doing, kid?" Rex continued as he crossed an ankle over his knee and relaxed back into his chair. "You look good."
"I'm doing alright," I replied nonchalantly with a shrug, not wanting him to worry about me. He'd done enough of that over the years. Besides, my struggle with what happened with Ella last night, and the effect she still had on me, was too disturbing and seemed too private to share with anyone. I barely understood it myself either.
"Just alright?" he asked as his eyes narrowed worriedly as he studied me closely. Leave it to Rex to read me like a book. "Are you relapsing? Did you use?" he asked in a panicked tone as he sat up in his chair. Now there was actual fear in his eyes.
"No, sir." I met his eyes firmly, wanting him to see my sincerity.
"Show me," he demanded as he motioned toward me.
I wasn't even angry with his demand. Lord knew how many times I lied to him about it while I was still using. Addicts were notorious liars, and I'd been no exception. I slipped off my suit jacket and pulled up my sleeves, showing Rex my old scars.
He breathed out a sigh of relief and fell back into his chair. He eyed me closely again. "Something's bothering you though," he said pointedly. "Something's going on."
I sighed and stared down at my hands for a moment as I cradled them in my lap. "I...I did something I'm not proud of," I finally confessed, not willing to go into any details, but needing to unload some of it to somebody. "And I think I hurt someone in the process."
"Did you make amends?" he asked, referring to one of the steps of the recovery program I followed.
I shook my head in reply, too ashamed to speak. I'd been too much of a coward to face Ella, afraid to face what I did and of falling prey to my attraction to her again. Avoidance was easier, safer. It protected my fragile self-control.
"Then there's your answer, Calder," he said. "Whatever you did, it's going to eat at you until you do."
"I know," I whispered. I stared at my hands as I clenched them into fists.
"Then what are you doing sitting here with me, kid?" he asked incredulously. "You should be out doing something about it."
"It's not that simple," I said as I met his eyes again. "It's...complicated."
He arched a brow disapprovingly. "Is it? It seems to me the only thing making this complicated is you, son. You and I both know how tenuous recovery can be, and what the stakes are if you refuse to deal with the things that cause you stress and threaten your sobriety. Is being afraid to face what you did worth your life?"
Guilt punched me in the gut. Rex was right. If I relapsed, I'd hurt him and the few other people who cared about me in the process. I looked away in chagrin. "No," I answered softly.
"Then you know what you need to do,"-he rose from his chair- "and I'll walk you out." He wasn't going to take no for an answer, and to be honest, I was glad he showed up tonight to knock some sense into me. Obviously, someone needed to.
"Alright," I replied as I stood, then slipped my suit jacket back on and rounded my desk to follow him out. I had to go find Ella and make amends for my actions, even if I was afraid. It was the right thing to do.
Rex paused before opening the door, then grabbed me and pulled me into a hug. "I love you, kid," he said in a gruff yet emotional voice. He pulled away and smiled warmly at me. "You make me proud."
I nodded as a wave of uncomfortable emotion fell over me from his heartfelt words. Then I followed him out of my office without another word, praying that seeing Ella again wouldn't threaten my tenuous control and lead to something else I'd regret.