Unforgettable

by Aleatha Romig

  “I left her a note. She will relay her response to me through you.”

  “As you wish.”

  My head tilts. “You’re being very agreeable tonight.”

  “If I weren’t would you punish me?”

  I shake my head. “Good night, Dorothy.”

  “Mr. Santana, will we see you again or is this farewell?”

  I take a deep breath. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”

  As I walk away, I feel Dorothy’s stare on my back, coming from her silver mask. She’s too knowledgeable at reading people. It isn’t like I make it difficult. Regarding Moira, I’ve shown her my cards. I would be no good at that poker game. In two meetings, I’ve fallen hard for the woman upstairs, and now I’m putting any hope of a future into her hands.

  The love I shared with Beth showed me many sides of a BDSM relationship beyond what Dorothy or others want. There’s nothing wrong with a purely physical relationship—giving pain and seeking it. I did that in my earlier years. I’d trained submissives so that they could go on and find what was right for them.

  That is no longer enough. I want the whole package. I want to live beyond a weekly session at Lace and Leather. I want a life with someone who not only wants what I want and what I need but also wants more, someone who trusts me and whom I trust, someone who can live this life and also live in the reality of everyday.

  As I wait for my car to arrive, I know that to achieve my goal, the first step is to know one another’s real name. That means a relationship beyond masks and anonymity. It means I should listen to my mother and Dr. Kizer and begin a real relationship outside these walls.

  Marji

  The sun is rising as I settle behind my steering wheel with my cape wrapped securely around me, concealing the outfit I wore to Lace and Leather beyond my shoes and stockings. It isn’t until I’m off the grounds that I pull my car over and succumb to the tears I’ve barely kept suppressed throughout my conversation with Dorothy and the valet.

  Turning off the engine, I lower my window as my head bows forward and tears bubble from my chest. As the soft morning breeze blows my mussed hair, deep breaths go out, and yet I can’t seem to inhale, not enough to fill my lungs. With trembling hands, I remove the crumpled note from the pocket of the cape. My tear-filled eyes make the words blurry though that doesn’t matter. I will never forget the gist of what he said.

  * * *

  MOIRA,

  YOUR FUTURE IS YOURS TO DECIDE. MY RULES ARE NONNEGOTIABLE. YOU HAVE EXPERIENCED A TASTE OF THIS LIFE AND SHOWN IT ISN’T FOR YOU. GO BACK TO YOUR SAFE AND SECURE LIFE AND KNOW IT WAS A PLEASURE TO EXPERIENCE YOUR NAÏVETÉ DURING YOUR TRAINING.

  THAT PART OF YOU IS MINE FOREVER. THE REST OF YOU CAN BE GIVEN TO THE PERSON OF YOUR CHOICE. MAY I SUGGEST, NOT AT LACE AND LEATHER.

  YOU WILL FIND THE CALL BUTTON BESIDE THE DOOR TO THE HALLWAY. AFTER YOU ARE DRESSED, PRESS IT AND YOU WILL BE ESCORTED AWAY.

  MR. SANTANA

  * * *

  In other words, I used you. Go on with your life. You’re not really cut out for this and oh, by the way, don’t come back.

  I can’t comprehend what went wrong or what happened. The last thing I recall is falling asleep in Mr. Santana’s embrace, both of us exhausted yet satiated beyond compare.

  “No, Marji.” My voice is ragged from both the sobs and last night. “It was only you who was satisfied. He was only training you. You aren’t special. It was sex. It was domination. That was all. There was no connection.”

  After a few minutes or maybe longer, I find the strength to drive to my apartment. Once inside, I spot the box Mr. Santana’s outfit came in. Quickly, I strip from the clothes and stuff them back into the box. If I had his address or even his name, I’d send them back.

  My sadness changes to anger and indignation as scenes from last night replay in my head.

  Screw him!

  I didn’t go to Lace and Leather to find one man.

  I went to experience something I wanted to experience. I did that. I faced my insecurities and I donned a mask and entered the world of the unknown. Fuck him and his training and taking my naïveté.

  “No, Mr. Santana, you didn’t take anything,” I say louder than I should at the now-filled box. “I gave it. Not to get anything from you or anyone else in return. You can’t take that from me. I did this.”

  My knees crumple as I fall to the floor near the box.

  When I wake, I’m cold and achy. I lift my nude body from the floor and make my way to the bathroom. The woman in the mirror is a sad reflection of who I thought I’d be after this weekend. My hair is completely trashed, makeup is ruined, eyes and lips swollen, and there are other signs not visible in my reflection.

  It’s within me. I feel him as I walk and stand. Not only physically but emotionally too.

  The notes I transcribe discuss the sustained aftereffects that come with being the recipient of punishment or simply playful pain. They say how the lingering effects bring satisfaction and contentment, reminding the recipient of what happened and how it was consensual. Gripping the edge of the sink, I remind myself that it was consensual and I did take it. My lips tease upward as I recall his praise. Just as fast they fall.

  The hot water of the shower washes over me as I vow to move forward.

  By Monday morning, I am mostly convinced that I can continue to go on with life as I have known it. There were a few times on Sunday that I wasn’t certain. Those were times of insecurity.

  Each time I reminded myself that I didn’t fail. I set out to do something—try something—and I did. Mr. Santana’s perception of me is skewed by his experiences. Fine, I didn’t meet up. That’s his problem, not mine.

  When I arrive at Dr. Kizer’s office, the door to her private office is closed and the light is shining through the frosted glass. It’s too early for a client and yet as I approach the door, I hear her voice. My steps still as I wrestle with possibilities. Either she’s on the phone or there is a client present. Lifting my knuckles, I knock.

  It takes a few seconds, but the door opens inward, just far enough for me to see my employer.

  “Is everything all right?” I ask. “Do you need anything?”

  “No, Marji. Everything is fine. Can you please call my ten o’clock and let them know I may be running a bit behind?”

  My neck straightens. This is not like her. Punctuality is part of Dr. Kizer’s magic. In sixty minutes a week she can fix what ails you. “Are you sure?”

  She turns and peers where I can’t see. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Okay. I’ll call them right away.”

  “Thank you, Marji. Please don’t disturb us.”

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  Lucas

  Leaning forward, I drop my head to my hands, my elbows supported on my outstretched knees as a knock raps on Dr. Kizer’s office door. It’s probably her assistant, Marji, the pretty blonde. For a moment when I hear her voice, Moira comes to mind.

  With a sigh, I lean back against the chair and peer toward Dr. Kizer. I can’t see who she’s speaking to, but I can hear Dr. Kizer use her name, Marji.

  Marji isn’t Moira; she isn’t who I want.

  Since Saturday morning, I have been hoping to see and hear Moira at every turn. Now I’m imagining her here.

  After Dr. Kizer closes the door, she turns back to me. “Luke, tell me again about what happened.”

  Standing, I go to the window of her office and look absently down to the parking lot. I’m not seeing the cars. I’m back in room four.

  “I wanted to stay with her. I considered it more than I should have.”

  “Why shouldn’t you have wanted that?”

  I sigh. “Because I don’t know her.” I close my eyes and face the truth. “Because I didn’t want to leave her...ever. It was too fast. It was suffocating, and it would be as much for her as for me. I knew I should give her space, and when I did she shunned me.”

  “After she got your note saying you wanted to see her
again, to learn more about the real her, she called you?” Dr. Kizer asks.

  “No, Dorothy from Lace and Leather, she relayed Moira’s message. In a nutshell, she enjoyed a noncommittal fuck and now she knows BDSM isn’t for her. She’s going back to her vanilla husband.” My stomach again reels at that revelation. I lift my hands in the air. “How did I not know she was married?”

  Dr. Kizer tilts her head. “How could you know?”

  “I asked Dorothy about the questionnaire. Dorothy said she hadn’t revealed that nugget of truth.”

  “So tell me what you did after the call from Dorothy.”

  “I sulked like a fucking pussy. Tell me, Doctor, tell me again how I can bring back a part of me when I’m weak. After I got my shit together on Saturday afternoon, I drove to my parents’ cottage and made some excuse about wanting fresh fish. I spent the rest of the day out on the lake by myself.”

  “Did you catch any?”

  I turn toward her. “What?”

  “Did you catch fish?”

  “Yeah, but what difference does that make?”

  “What did you do with them?”

  “I took them back to the cottage, cleaned them, and sat with my dad as my mom and Callie battered and fried them.”

  “Saturday night?”

  “I sat with my parents after Callie went to bed and listened to the crickets and tried to act like I hadn’t just been through hell.”

  “Sunday?” Dr. Kizer asks.

  “I don’t understand your questioning.” I think back. “I showed Callie how to catch minnows and we all swam. Mom made dinner. This is stupid.”

  “Tell me again, Luke, what did you do after you got the call?”

  I sink to the sofa. “I don’t understand what you’re asking. I told you everything I did.”

  Her cheeks rise as her lips curl upward. “Luke, you called and came to me recently, why?”

  “Fuck, I don’t know. I guess I wanted to know if it was okay to—”

  “To live,” Dr. Kizer finishes my sentence. “We discussed you living. Life changes. Our priorities change. From what you said, you enjoyed the experience of reliving fond sexual experiences. That is part of you living. What you did after you received Dorothy’s call is also you living. You went to your family. You fished, caught fish, and ate fish. You spent time with your daughter and parents. You didn’t fade away. You are too strong for that. You brushed it off and lived. Remember that the next time.”

  “Next time?”

  “Luke, it doesn’t have to be at Lace and Leather. It doesn’t have to be anywhere. Life is everywhere. It’s where you least expect it. A man like you won’t let this one experience define him. If you can live after the tragedy life has dealt you, you can keep living.”

  “I guess that I feel like I had hope for the first time in a long time.”

  “No, Luke. Hope isn’t isolated. Sometimes it feels lost, but it’s still there. You know, like the car keys you can’t find? They’re there, but you don’t see them. You saw hope in Moira. You have hope every day. One day you’ll see it again.”

  “I see it constantly in Callie.”

  “And you should. We both know that’s different, but that doesn’t diminish it. You don’t have to search for hope, but be prepared when it surfaces.”

  Peering down at my watch, I see that it’s almost ten in the morning, the time of Dr. Kizer’s first appointment. “I should go. Thank you for seeing me this morning. I know you have other patients.”

  “I asked Marji to give us more time.”

  I shake my head. “I should go. I’ll set up another appointment for, say, a month. I need some time to find those keys.”

  Dr. Kizer grins. “Luke, you did nothing wrong. The way you are may not be to Moira’s liking, but it is to someone else’s. And as for hope, it’s never wrong to want it. Just keep your eyes open.”

  Straightening my shoulders, I nod. “Thank you again. I better go.”

  As I open the door, I’m again struck by the resemblance of Marji to Moira. I only see the back of her head and her slender shoulders and soft curves.

  It’s my imagination.

  And then she turns.

  Marji

  I turn toward the sound of Dr. Kizer’s door opening and my entire body freezes. I’m momentarily paralyzed as the dark, penetrating stare comes my direction, latching my gaze and rocking my reality. I can’t compute as I’m decimated with the calamity of worlds colliding.

  Two impossible scenes become one.

  While I’m staring at the man I saw recently in the grocery store with his daughter, I know in my heart, in every fiber of my body, that he’s also Mr. Santana. I may not have seen the entirety of his face, but I saw him—the rest of him. The man before me is the man who brought me pain, pleasure, and satisfaction in a way I’ve never known.

  He’s also the man who rejected me.

  Those thoughts and more flash through my mind as his steps still. My vision tunnels as Dr. Kizer steps around the fringe, coming to my desk.

  “Marji, could you please schedule Lucas McAroy for an appointment a month from today?” She turns toward Lucas. “Remember, you can always call or make an appointment for sooner if you change your mind.”

  Lucas doesn’t speak. His zeroed-in stare never leaves mine as his neck straightens and shoulders broaden. It’s a look I recognize, one that in only a short time I knew to mean he was about to issue a demand. It isn’t the one that accompanied praise or tenderness.

  Dr. Kizer takes a step back, surveying the two people before her.

  “Marji, what time are the Martins coming in?” When I don’t answer, she repeats the question.

  I blink as I pull my gaze from Lucas and turn to my boss. Though I answer her question, my eyes fill again with tears. After this weekend, I’m not certain how I’m capable of forming more, yet I obviously do. “I’m sorry, what?” I ask, looking at Dr. Kizer.

  “The Martins? I asked you to postpone their appointment.”

  Swallowing my emotions, I nod. “Yes, I called. They rescheduled.” I sniff away my tears. “You had an opening on Wednesday and now your schedule won’t be delayed.”

  She turns to Lucas. “Luke, do you recall my assistant, Marji?” She turns to me, “Marji, you remember Luke.”

  Lucas turns away. “I’ll call you directly, Doctor.”

  Before he leaves, I blurt out, “Why?”

  Lucas turns on his heels, facing me as if Dr. Kizer isn’t in the room and says, “Yes, Sir or no, Sir, you let Dorothy give me your Dear John message?” He doesn’t allow me to respond before adding, “Yes, Sir or no, Sir, you went back to your husband.”

  My eyes widen as I stand. “No, Sir, to both.” My voice is no longer submissive as my indignation returns. “Your note said you didn’t want to see me again. I’m not married. I never have been.”

  His dark stare moves from me to Dr. Kizer.

  “Lucas, Marji is telling you the truth about her never being married. I don’t know about the note.”

  Quickly, I reach for my purse. Pulling the note, now barely readable, from its depths, I hand it to Lucas. “Here, Sir. This is what I found when I woke.”

  Taking it from my grasp, he straightens the linen paper. As his eyes scan the page, his jaw clenches tighter and tighter and the muscles along the side of his handsome face become taut. Finally, when he looks back at me, the anger from moments before is replaced by something softer. “Fuck, Moira, this isn’t what I wrote.” He shakes the paper. “I didn’t write this.”

  Dr. Kizer lets out a long breath. “It seems there is an hour free on my schedule if you two would like to talk.” She grins. “With or without me.”

  My chest heaves against my blouse. “I thought...”

  Lucas extends his hand my direction. In the microsecond that follows I see him with his daughter and then again at Lace and Leather, reassuring, helping, and training me. Taking in his complete unmasked face, I lift my hand to his.

  As
his fingers close around mine, he says, “I also thought...Well, it seems as though we were both misled.”

  “I don’t understand,” I admit.

  “It may seem awkward to do it here,” Dr. Kizer says, “but it appears that the two of you have a few things to settle before discussing a future.”

  My eyes look up at the man holding my hand. “Future?”

  His broad shoulder shrugs. “It was my hope.”

  Walking hand in hand, we follow Dr. Kizer beyond the door to her private office. My steps still as I look around. I’ve been within this room hundreds of times and yet with Lucas beside me it feels different.

  “I’ll give you both a few minutes alone,” Dr. Kizer says as she steps out, closing the door.

  Lucas’s free hand comes to my cheek. “Marji, huh?”

  I nod. “Yes, Sir.” My grin grows. “Mr. McAroy.”

  “Luke or Lucas.”

  “Sir?”

  His finger rubs over my lips. “It sounds perfect coming from your lips.”

  My head bows against his chest. “How?” I look up, my eyes again filling with tears. “Why?”

  Lucas pulls my face toward his as our lips come together. It’s neither rushed nor needy. The connection is right and reassuring. As the kiss ends, he says, “I believe we were sabotaged.”

  “By whom...Dorothy?”

  He nods. “She has always been attentive of me. I think she was surprised to see me back at Lace and Leather. It’s been a few years...”

  This time I reach up to his cheek. “Lucas, I am still sorry about Beth. I will always respect and honor the love the two of you shared. I don’t know what’s in our future, but I hope there’s a future.”

  “I have a daughter.”

  My cheeks rise in a grin. “Who loves strawberries and chocolate pudding and makes your face light up. When you’re ready...if you are...I’d love to get to know her, too.” I take a step back and cross my arms over my breasts. “Now, tell me about Dorothy, about what you think happened.”