by Megan Hart
Eric gave the other man a nod. “Hey, Jon. Good morning.”
“Good to see you. She’s doing better today.”
There was no “doing better” for Harriet. Not really. Still, Eric gave the nurse a grateful smile and clipped the visitor badge to the front of his jacket.
Harriet’s room smelled of the dirty water in the bottom of the vase of flowers he made sure were delivered to her every week. She was in bed, her eyes closed, her hands folded on top of the blankets. She looked even thinner than she had the last time he’d seen her, two weeks ago. She didn’t stir when he took the vase and pushed the dead blooms into the trash, then went into her bathroom to rinse the glass.
She was awake when he came out of the bathroom though. Her gaze fixed on him. The last stroke had left her non-verbal, but she raised a hand for him to take.
Eric pressed his lips to the back of her hand and held it between both of his. “Hi, beautiful.”
Harriet managed a smile, the left side of her face drooping. She had the strength to squeeze his fingers, but only a little. After a moment, she stopped. He put her hand back on top of the covers.
“I brought a new book for us.” He held up the paperback copy of a popular bestseller that had recently been made into a movie.
He read aloud to her for about twenty minutes before glancing up to see her staring, a glint of tears in her eyes. Eric put down the book. Took her hand again.
“It’s all right,” he told her. “You’re all right.”
In their time together, she would have punished him severely for the lie. Now, Harriet merely closed her eyes. She didn’t even squeeze his fingers this time. Eric watched her silently for a moment or so, until it became obvious she was asleep. Still, he sat with her, knowing that she might not be able to feel him with her, might not even remember who he was. He needed to stay here anyway, for himself.
They’d met when he still lived in Pennsylvania at a local munch, a social outing for a group of kinksters Eric had become involved with after figuring out that vanilla dating wasn’t going to work for him. Harriet had been older, much older, a grande dame in the group who’d taken him under her wing. It hadn’t been long before he’d been serving her in an arrangement that had worked out well for both of them despite the age difference. It had been affectionate and more than platonic, but not particularly sexual. Their relationship had ended amicably when he’d decided to take the job in Dayton. Harriet had, in fact, insisted he take it. Better hours, better pay, better quality of living. She’d always encouraged him to be the best man he could be.
If she’d known then that she was going to be so sick…If either of them had known, Eric wondered, would he have stayed? Or would he still have gone?
“Oh.”
He looked up at the sound of the voice from the doorway. “Hi, Karen.”
“I didn’t know you’d be here. They changed out the visitor form. I didn’t see your name.”
“I can go,” he said and stood.
Karen looked at the book on the bed. Her mouth twisted. “You’re reading that to my mother?”
“She likes this author.”
“My mother would not read that sort of trash,” Karen said stiffly. She had not moved more than a step into the room and stared at Eric the way she always did, as though expecting him to jump her. If she wore pearls, she’d be clutching them.
“I think we’ve already had this conversation,” he told her. “I’ll get out of your way.”
He waited until she’d moved into the room so he could get out of it. He took the book with him, not trusting her not to throw it away once he’d gone. When he passed, Karen visibly cringed and sniffed aloud, like he smelled bad.
The woman had hated Eric since the first moment she’d met him. She’d never respected his relationship with her mother. She’d gone so far as to accuse him of being a gold digger, a male escort, even “one of those fags that prey on lonely old women.” He’d ignored all the previous viciousness. He could ignore this, too.
“I’m working on a court order forbidding you to see her,” Karen said suddenly, abruptly, as though the words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them.
This was too much. Eric turned toward her. “What?”
“You heard me. A court order. You shouldn’t be allowed to harass her any longer! I have her medical Power of Attorney. I’m going to make sure you can’t have anything to do with her!”
His fists clenched. Karen saw it. This time, instead of flinching, she gave him a hard, brittle grin.
Eric forced his fingers to uncurl. “You can’t do that.”
“Oh, yes. I can. I can certainly declare her incompetent. I can declare you a threat and a detriment to her health.”
“If there’s anyone in her life who ought to have the final say in her medical care, it’s me,” Eric spat.
“Just because you’re a doctor—”
“No,” Eric cut in. “No, Karen. Not because I’m a fucking doctor. Because I love her. And she loves me. You don’t have to like or approve of it, or even understand it, and frankly, I don’t care if you do or don’t. Your mother didn’t, either. You have the letter she sent you.”
About half a year after they’d been together, Harriet had outlined their relationship to her children, making sure they understood that how she chose to spend her time, and with whom, was not their business. Her son Derek didn’t like Eric, but he loved his mom and had accepted her choices. Karen never had.
Karen’s mouth worked. Her expression crumpled. She turned her back on him, and her shoulders lifted and fell. “You…you made her…you influenced her….”
“Anyone who ever met your mother knows nobody in the world could make her do something she didn’t want to. Especially not me.”
“You lurk around her like a vulture. Waiting for her to die. I know you’re in her will. But I’ll fight that, too.”
“I come back here when I can to see her, Karen, because I think it brings her comfort to see me. Because your mother, whether you like it or not, was important to me.”
“You left her!”
Eric ground his teeth together. “We agreed to end our exclusive relationship when I was offered the job in Ohio. Your mother was the one who wanted me to go. We stayed in touch, even before she fell ill. We were still close. You know that.”
“Too close,” Karen muttered, voice filled with disgust. “Get out. Please.”
He left, not because he wanted to give Karen the satisfaction, but so that their arguing didn’t wake and upset Harriet. In his rental car, he put his face in his hands while he fought not to rage or weep at the utter unfairness of it all. It would be better if Harriet had died, he thought, not for the first time, and hated himself for thinking it. Better that she’d be entirely gone than trapped in this fading existence, fought over by her distant, judgmental daughter.
When the urge to punch something had left him, well, mostly anyway, since Eric wasn’t sure he’d ever stop feeling like he wanted to punch something when he thought of Harriet, he headed for the coffee shop. The Morningstar Mocha had undergone a bit of a renovation over the past few years. Different, expanded menu and larger dining space. Some of the regulars had changed, too, along with most all of the staff except one familiar face.
“Hey, Tesla. How’s it going?” Eric greeted her.
Tesla sported a white tee-shirt emblazoned with a series of black lines that formed the face of Disney’s Maleficent, a single slash of red marking the witch’s mouth. The barista’s belly pushed at the front of the shirt, round with her pregnancy. She grinned at him as she slid a mug across the counter toward him. She also pulled out a teapot from beneath the counter and set it next to the mug so she could add hot water and tea to it.
“Hey, there, long time no see. At the moment, I am getting hammered in the kidneys by this imminent squish.” She patted her belly. “Other than that, and the fact I can’t sleep through the night, I’m terrific. How’ve you been?”
He had to grin.
Tesla had worked at the Mocha for what seemed like forever. A few years ago, she and her husband Charlie had bought the place. This was their second baby. Sometimes, Eric envied them. Lots of times, actually.
“Good, good. Just back in town to visit a friend,” he told her as he took the mug and lifted it toward her like a toast before pulling out his wallet to pay. He dropped an extra five in cash into the tip jar.
“Umm, dude, you tipped more than you paid for the coffee,” Tesla said as she tried to dig into the jar and pull out the bill to return to him.
“It’s not for you.”
She paused, eyebrows going up. “No?”
“It’s for the baby,” he told her.
Tesla’s eyes grew bright. “Awww. You’re a sweetheart. Thank you, Eric.”
They chatted for a few minutes while she prepared the pot of tea, which he took to his usual table toward the windows. He pulled out his phone to scroll through some of the forums he regularly read. His flight would leave Harrisburg International Airport later tonight, and he’d be back in Dayton by bedtime. The quick turnarounds were usually all he could manage with his work schedule. Today, it felt faster than usual.
Harriet was going to die, and chances were good he wasn’t going to be there when she did. Chances were even better that Karen would do her best to keep him from the funeral. He didn’t really believe she could do anything to keep him out of the home completely, but he had no doubts she could refuse to allow him to attend a private service.
“Need a refill?” Tesla had appeared at his table and gestured at the empty mug and teapot.
He hadn’t realized he’d drained it. “I’m good. Thanks. I’ll clear it, you shouldn’t have to do that.”
“I don’t mind. I’m up anyway, and it’s good for me to keep moving.” Tesla took the mug and empty pot, pausing before adding, “you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t look okay.” Without being invited, she slid into the chair across from him. It took some doing to fit her belly into the space, but she managed. Her frown of concern, so genuine, moved him.
“Someone I love is ill. She’s probably going to pass away pretty soon.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. It’s rough, even when you’re expecting it.” Tesla patted his hand. “Is that why you’re back here?”
“Yeah.” He stretched, trying to get the cramps out of his neck and shoulders.
“Well, it’s good to see you, even though I’m sorry the reason you’re here is a sad one.” She pushed herself back and managed to get out of the seat.
“Thanks, Tesla. You take care of yourself.”
“I will. Baby’s going to be here next month, and then I have a nice, long maternity leave planned. Oh, who am I kidding? I’ll be back here as soon as I can.” She laughed. “This place keeps me sane.”
The Mocha had kept Eric sane too, when he’d lived down the block from it. Sunday mornings with coffee and the lists of instructions from his anonymous mistress. That’s what had started it all for him. Thinking of it now as he watched Tesla chatting with another customer, Eric wished for that yellow legal pad, the pen, his old leather bag. Those days were a lifetime ago, a whole different life. He’d been incapable of imagining then where he would be now, and he supposed that wherever he was going to be five years from now seemed as incomprehensible.
It would have to be better, though, wouldn’t it?
Five
Friday night.
Madeline wasn’t going to go. She was going to stay home with a few glasses of very good wine and some very bad television. A hot bath. An early night.
She was absolutely not going to go back to that club.
Madeline told herself this as she smoothed lotion over her freshly shaved legs. She reminded herself of her decision as she dressed in lace panties and a matching bra, along with a comfortable pair of sleek black leggings and a matching off-the-shoulder sweater. She said it under her breath as she pinned up her hair, gathered her keys. She was still muttering it as she slid behind the wheel of her car.
In the parking lot of U4ia, she turned off the ignition and tried to tell herself she still had time to turn around and go home. Her fingers gripped the wheel. In the rearview mirror, she could see that her pupils had gone wide and dark. She licked her lips.
“Ridiculous,” she told herself aloud and lifted her chin. “It’s just an evening out with like-minded people. Nothing more.”
By the time she waved her keycard over the electronic lock, granting her access to the door, she’d managed to take a few deep breaths and keep herself from acting like a twitchy twit. Inside the lobby, she was greeted at once by several people whose faces she recognized, but whose names she’d forgotten. None of them were Eric, and she let out a sigh she tried to pretend wasn’t of disappointment.
“Hi! Happy Friday! Madeline, right?”
The slender woman had her hair done in a complicated series of braids, with makeup as intricate to match. She wore a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt, the short sleeves showcasing two arms covered by full tattoo sleeves. She hefted a small gym bag in one hand, probably containing whatever she meant to change into, or perhaps to simply hold her street clothes if she was going to be naked.
“Yes. And I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten yours.” Madeline shook the outstretched hand.
“I’m Dove. We didn’t officially meet, but you met my Sir.” Dove gestured behind her toward a tall man standing near the coffee station.
“Ah, yes. Nice to see you again.” Madeline looked around the lobby once more, but didn’t see the man she vaguely recalled meeting. “Andy said third Fridays are open play nights. I thought I’d come see what it’s all about.”
Dove beamed. “Yeah, yeah! So glad to see you. We have a great group of people here. You like the rope, right?”
“Yes. Among other things. But yes, I do like rope work.” Madeline pressed her lips together in a small grin at the younger woman’s enthusiasm. She’d been much like Dove, when she was younger, when Izumi had first introduced her to a world she’d never imagined. Her marriage had not been particularly happy, her husband distant and something of a bully, but she would always be grateful to him for opening her eyes to this. For helping her to learn who she really was.
“Awesome. We don’t have a lot of people who are into it. There’s Kurt, but he’s hardly ever around anymore.”
“What about…” Madeline cleared her throat briefly. “Eric?”
Dove’s brow furrowed. “Tall guy, dark hair?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, he and Kurt do it together sometimes.”
Madeline took note of that with some surprise. “More than just on demonstration nights?”
“Yeah, I think so. Excuse me,” Dove said. “Sir is waiting for me. I’ll see you inside?”
“I’m sure you will.” Madeline watched her go.
The lobby had emptied while they chatted. One or two people lingered around the snacks and drinks, but most had gone inside to the play space. She had no excuses not to go inside, herself, unless she simply turned around and went home, after all.
She’d dressed appropriately and comfortably for whatever she ended up doing tonight, so she didn’t have to change. The only thing keeping her from going through the doorway was her own…well, it wasn’t fear, exactly, was it? Madeline wasn’t afraid, not of playing with someone new, nor with a stranger, or not playing at all. She could happily observe and not feel out of place. Everyone she’d met so far had been above and beyond welcoming.
Chin up, she told herself. If he’s not here tonight, all the better. And if he is, you needn’t play with him at all. You can politely decline, if he asks. He won’t pressure you about it. It’s against etiquette, and he’s already proven himself far too polite to be so insistent.
Madeline braced herself for the sight of the tall, lean figure with shaggy dark hair, but as soon as she went through the doorway and into the play space it was clear that Eric wasn’t there. She
bit the inside of her cheek, disappointed and too aware of it. Still, shoulders back and head high, she studied the room.
It was set up mostly the same as it had been the night she’d volunteered for the demonstrations, although the atmosphere was already more intimate and sensual than it had been for that event. Several groups were already making use of the room’s equipment, and low cries and soft moans filtered to her under the thumping of the music coming through the overhead speakers. The crack of leather on flesh sent a thrill through her.
For a moment, Madeline closed her eyes. Breathing in. Absorbing the tension crackling in the air.
When she opened them, Eric stood in front of her. Tonight he wore khakis and a blue button down shirt. A small gym bag slung over his shoulder.
“Hi,” he said. “I was hoping you’d be here tonight.”
The rush of relief nearly overpowered her, but she didn’t give him so much as give him a hint of it. “Of course you were.”
A flash of uncertainty lit his expression, swift as a lightning streak. She liked that. Keeping him on edge. God, he was handsome. Her fingers curled into her palms with the memory of his warm skin beneath her hands.
“If you don’t have any other plans….” He trailed off, seeming to struggle with his words. Another light blazed in his gaze, and although the space was lit too dimly for her to see a blush, Madeline imagined she could feel the heat of one radiating off him.
“I don’t,” she told him without saying more than that.
Madeline had never been much for humiliation. Making her lovers grovel didn’t appeal to her, although she did have a delicious affinity for discipline. Still, watching Eric falter was like drawing in a fresh breath of ocean air after being locked in a stale room for too long. Keeping him slightly off-kilter felt…sexy, she thought. She’d take sexy.
“Maybe we could…?” Eric asked.
Madeline laughed. “We could.”
“Great.” He grinned and added a laugh that sounded relieved. He bit it back after a moment, pressing his lips together before adding, “you look beautiful tonight.”