WE RAN BY Twyla’s apartment, letting her change into her work shirt and leggings, and also so she could grab a few things. I informed her she would be staying with me at my loft until everything with Brandon was all taken care of since her sister was safe at Doc’s. Judging by the way she didn’t put up a fight, I’d say she liked that idea. Little did she know I didn’t plan on letting her leave once she settled in. This past week, spending night and day with her, seeing her, touching her, making love to her whenever I wanted… there’s no going back after that.
I can’t get enough of Twyla Quill. And for the first time, sex is just an added bonus. It’s the woman herself I want to submerse myself in. Her intelligence, her dry sense of humor, the way she loves her sister so fiercely, how she protects Astrid, even though Twyla is the younger of the two. Even the fact she knows none of my movie quotes, because that means I get to be the one to show her the films for the first time. I get to hear her laugh hysterically at the parts that have lost their effect on me because I’ve seen them so many times, which breathes life into the movies for me once more. It’s like getting to watch them for the first time all over again.
And another way I know I fucking love the shit out of her—it doesn’t make me mad when she talks during the movie. She asks questions, the backstories of the different Marvel characters, and my chest puffs up with pride as I fill her in on all the details from the comic books. I’ve never enjoyed talking to a woman as much as I do with her.
She dropped me off at my building on her way to work, promising to come straight back here after her shift ends at midnight. After being gone all week, I’ve got some work of my own to catch up on. New club membership time is coming up soon; we only open up slots four times a year, because the process is very extensive.
Besides the five-figure membership fee, people are only able to apply if they have a sponsor, someone who is already a member of Club Alias to advocate for their character. Once a thorough background check is complete, the potential member has to go through four therapy sessions with Doc. Our main goal is to provide a safe environment for Dominants and submissives to explore their lifestyle with other people like them. Doc’s sessions are an important part of the application process because he is able to weed out the candidates who might have darker intentions. He’s able to distinguish if a prospect would be dangerous to our community. There’s a fine line between a sexual sadist and a person who actually wants to hurt their partner. Besides the Dominant side of the spectrum, Doc can pinpoint submissives with potential triggers. Like in Corbin’s wife Vi’s case, she was a victim of sexual assault. Without Doc’s intensive therapy, it could’ve been disastrous to give her membership, have her partner up with a Dominant who didn’t know her background, and then act out a scene that could make her flashback to her rape. Terrible, irrevocable things can happen to a survivor after a trigger. So it’s Doc’s duty to keep that from happening.
Wanting to share every part of myself with Twyla and also give her the ability to come into the club whenever she wants, I plan to approach her soon about her going through the application process. She’d get special treatment and not have to pay the fee, of course, but she’d still be required to do the therapy sessions with Doc.
I have a feeling she won’t have any problem with the idea. There was no hiding her interest when we talked on the ride home about my training as a Dominant. That and the fact she’d gotten jealous thinking about me being around other women. I’m sure she’d enjoy being able to drop into the club to see what I’m up to. But God as my witness, she’d never find me in any sort of compromising position. I wasn’t exaggerating when I told her that hers is the last body I would ever touch. One of the reasons I had never been in a relationship up to this point is because there was no one I desired to be loyal to. There was no one before Twyla who I wanted to put my trust and faith into. Doing that gives a person power, and one thing I never felt willing to do before now was give a woman any type of power over me. But with her, I didn’t even question it. Because something told me she would never abuse that control, she’d never use it against me.
Before Twyla, a woman’s jealousy would have been a red flag for me, a clinger alert that would have sent me running. Twyla’s show of possessiveness made me feel… loved, desired in a way that was much more than sexual. I would never do anything to ruin that. And I would always do anything and everything to protect her heart.
“DON’T LOOK AT me like that,” I mumble, seeing Scout, Doc’s Australian shepherd, watching me as I slip my sneakers on and tie the laces. “I’ll be back before your daddy even gets out of his session. I just need a few things from my apartment.” I roll my eyes. “Maybe I’ll find my sanity while I’m there, seeing how I’ve now resorted to talking to a damn dog.”
I had texted Doc, asking when his appointments would be through for the day. He said an emergency session had been booked and he wouldn’t be home until tenish. A new shipment of my products had been delivered to my apartment this morning, and I need to package up a few orders today so Doc can take them to the post office for me in the morning.
I know I should wait for him to take me, but after such a long day at the office, the last thing I want Doc to do is worry about me. He’s already done so much for me, while being completely hardheaded about accepting any type of payment for his security services. So instead of asking him to haul me to my apartment this late at night, I’ll just run the errand quickly myself. Besides, there’s a restraining order in place and a security team keeping an eye on Brandon, so I should be safe if I make this fast.
I toss my cell into my purse and then grab one of the several sets of keys hanging on the wall next to the door, this one with the least fancy emblem on the remote. I’m sneaking off with one of Doc’s cars, so the least I can do is not borrow the Audi or the one I can’t pronounce. The Chevy truck will work just fine for me, and hopefully he’ll never even know I used it. Why one man would need two cars, a truck, and an SUV, I’ll never know. But right now, I’m just grateful there’s a vehicle for me to drive instead of having to walk to my apartment. I may be able to breathe a little easier now, but I’m not naïve enough to go walking the streets by myself at night, no matter how safe this town claims to be.
I hear Scout whine behind me as I open the door, and I glance back long enough to tell him, “Be a good boy. I’ll be right back,” before shutting him inside and locking up. I hurry out to the truck, remote in hand, which I use to unlock it before I even reach the tall, black vehicle. Heart pounding, I yank open the door as soon as I grasp the handle, pull myself up into the driver seat, and then slam and lock the door behind me. I start the truck, letting out a nervous laugh and shaking my head.
“Calm the hell down, Astrid,” I whisper to myself. “He doesn’t know where you are.” But even as I say the words, I glance in all the mirrors and then turn around to check the back seat for anyone who might be hiding back there, waiting to attack. Now that I’m outside the fortress that is Doc’s house, I feel a lot less confident in making this trip alone. “Ugh!” I growl, frustrated from all the anxiety and paranoia, always having to look over my shoulder because of that bastard. I used to be so fearless, so carefree, and now, no matter where I am or how safe I may be, I always get the eerie sensation that I’m being watched.
Feeling vulnerable, even behind the tinted windows and locked doors, I put the truck in reverse then make my way out onto the main road. Within minutes, I arrive at my apartment and park in the underground garage. Thankfully, the space right next to the elevator is open. As I turn off the engine, I grab my purse and look around through the windows, trying to see if there’s any sign of Brandon hiding between the parked cars.
“You’re being paranoid. Just get in quick, grab your shit, and get back to Doc’s,” I say aloud, now uncaring how crazy I sound talking to not only a dog but to myself as well. The pep talk gives me the courage I need to spring from the truck, slamming the door unnecessarily hard as I bolt to the elevator, rapidly pushing the button over and over, even though I know it won’t make it open any faster. I press my back to the wall and face the garage while I wait, my breath coming in short, quick pants as my heart pounds in my ears, my eyes continuously scanning the parking lot. I keep the keys gripped in my hand, wishing I had brought some sort of weapon with me just in case. Being so used to never going anywhere, staying hidden away, I hadn’t thought of having to protect myself until this very moment.
Finally, the elevator dings, the sound obscenely loud in the otherwise eerily silent parking garage. I peek inside, seeing the car is empty, and hurry in, pushing the button for my apartment floor. Anxiety fills me when it comes to a stop and the doors slide open. I step forward, leaning just my head out of the elevator to look up and down the hall. And it’s not until I see there’s not a single soul around that I finally relax. I quickly reach my door, unlock it, slip inside, relock it, and collapse against the smooth surface.
“Jesus fuck,” I breathe, feeling completely drained once the tension leaves my body. But I don’t give myself very long to enjoy it. “In and out,” I remind myself, and I start gathering the short list of things I want to bring with me before I go down to the office to pick up my shipment of makeup.
I go into the bathroom and grab the tampons I’ll need soon, knowing full well I’d be mortified if I had to ask the handsome therapist to buy me some at the store. He’s kind and easy to talk to, and makes me feel safe in a way I didn’t know existed, but asking him to buy my feminine products is more than I could take. Sure, he’s an adult, and a doctor no less, but it seems like that’s something really intimate to ask a man for, something only a wife would ask her husband to do for her, and only if her husband was a special kind of guy.
Brandon had most certainly not been that kind of guy. My period every month was the only week I got any sort of peace. He wouldn’t even make me sleep next to him during those blissful five days, the mere thought of the blood disgusting him.
I shake myself out of the memory, leaning over the tub to grab my bottle of body wash. And that’s when I hear it.
Rattling.
What is that? The subtle sound of metal against metal coming from the living room. Almost like a key entering a lock, but not. More like scratching and tapping.
My heart pounds in my ears, nearly blocking out the noise as I slowly peek out of the bathroom toward the front door. And to my horror, I see where the sound is coming from as it ends with a click, the knob turns, and the door slowly opens.
What did you think while you were reading Vi’s book? :smiling devil:
I giggle, reading the text message Seth sent me. It’s been pretty slow tonight at work, so I’ve been passing the time chatting back and forth with him as he catches up on work at the club. I had sent my sister a text earlier asking if she needed me to bring her anything on my way home, but seeing as it’s almost 11:00 p.m., she’s probably already asleep. I’m closing tonight, so I’ve got an hour left of my shift.
I reply to Seth’s message, heat filling my core as I answer his question.
Me: Knowing it was you who’d explained all the kinky stuff in the story, I wondered what it would be like to experience what the characters were doing.
His reply is almost immediate, as they always are.
Seth: Reeeally? *wiggles eyebrows* Any part in particular get you wet, doll?
His naughty question makes my face flame, not only because of what he’s asking but because there certainly was one scene that stood out in my mind. And now I’ll have to be open and honest with my answer.
I start to type out my response, but the bell over the door rings as a customer comes inside, so I hurry to reply.
Me: I’d like to try… Hold that thought. Customer.
I feel my phone buzz as I slide it into my back pocket, but don’t look at it as I come out from behind the counter to help the shopper.
I walk around the tall revolving tower of nipple pasties, trying to spot the person who had come in, and find the dark-haired man standing and facing the wall of women’s lingerie.
Ah, an easy one, I think. I’ve had quite a few men come in looking for something sexy for their significant other to wear for them. I find it quite endearing, the boyfriend or husband taking the time to put thought into their selection, and it’s always interesting to see which outfit they pick. You’d think they’d all go for the naughty leather numbers, with scraps of fabric that do nothing to save anything for the imagination. But on the contrary, a lot of them have been picking pretty things, lacy panties and soft teddies in whites and pinks, items that would give their girlfriend or wife a very innocent look.
“Welcome to Toys for Twats. Can I help you find anything?” I ask as I approach.
“As a matter of fact, Twy, you can.”
The moment his deep voice fills the silence, my heart plummets to the floor. Brandon turns to face me, and suddenly the side of my head explodes with pain just before the rest of my body falls to meet my heart, and the store goes black.