One evening as he was making his way out of the theater, one of the female performers approached him.
“Hey pretty boy!” She reeked of marijuana and a sexual musk that was a foul mix of sweat and her own and her multiple partners’ scents.
Thinking she was soliciting him for sex, he simply said, “Sorry, not interested.”
“I see you here a lot. If you want to try it, there’s a club in the Meat Packing District. Here’s the address.”
He looked at the kicker card allowing the bearer entrance to the club. He wasn’t sure what to make of their exchange, but politely said, “Thanks,” before exiting the theater.
It was close to three o’clock in the morning and he wasn’t sure heading into the district was a good idea. It was fairly common knowledge that the industrial area south of Chelsea was full of prostitutes at this time of night. For the uninitiated, it could be a very dangerous place. So he placed the card in his pocket and headed back to campus.
Once back to his room, he entered only to find his roommate mid stroke fucking his girlfriend. He quickly closed the door heading down the hall to the common area. He pulled the card out of his pocket and carefully read its few descriptors noting the pictures that dotted it. He considered throwing it in the trash especially considering who gave it to him. Yet he was drawn to the idea of the place and simply put it back in his pocket.
The next weekend he decided to head to the club, hoping the card was still valid. It was a fairly modest place full of cigarette smoke, which made the whole place smell stale. The lights were dim but it was packed with men and women, some straight couples but mostly gay. Some were attired in fetish gear while others simply dressed as he had—a pair of jeans, tee shirt and jacket. As he walked through the establishment, he noticed there were very few blacks in the club. Then he heard the cracks of paddles and leather against skin followed by wails of pain and delight.
He made his way to a stark room with bare brick walls and wooden beams overhead. In the middle of the room were a series of cages and other restraining equipment. From the beams he saw chains suspended with large hooks. Suddenly, the onlookers got quiet as a man entered with three collared women on hands and knees crawling across the rough wooden floor behind him. His face was covered but the women were naked. He sat in a large chair facing the devices. The women sat in front of him awaiting his instructions. Michael was intrigued by the theatricality of it all. He watched attentively as the man began to talk to each woman. His cadence was dour yet his manner meticulous as he took each woman to an apparatus.
The first woman seemed much younger than the others. He referred to her as “Baby Doll” and she responded by calling him “Daddy.” Michael watched the man instruct her to lie down in a cage completely covering her head and face. Once secure, he taunted and stroked her before whipping her hard across her breasts and hips with a cat o’ nine tails. He then spread her legs fastening them to metal clamps so she couldn’t move. He adjusted her hips and moved a mechanical device with a large dildo attached into place. He turned it on and the force by which the dildo moved in an out of her was astonishing. It was bizarre and unsettling at first, but Michael watched the woman’s body convulse and sweat as her orgasms over took her and in the midst of obvious pleasure.
The man then moved on to the next woman whose body was already heavily bruised. The exchange between them could only be described as extreme humiliation. From the name-calling he leveled against her, to the acts he required her to perform to finally flogging her mercilessly, Michael had never seen anything like it—including the German films. Finally, the man moved to the last woman and Michael couldn’t imagine what he could possibly do to her. As the act began, he couldn’t watch much more. He had to leave. His heart was pounding, his penis was hard and his mind was racing with many divergent thoughts and feelings. He caught the subway back to campus. Once there, he pulled out his journal and began to write.
November 19:
I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. Lately I’ve been getting into some shit. Tonight was by far the most extreme I’ve ever seen. I can’t help but wonder how I’d feel if someone did that shit to Mya—or my mom.
The whole scene, it’s raw. I don’t know if it was just acting—but those women seemed like they were enjoying it. I watched when they came and it didn’t look fake.
I need to back off. This isn’t me—it can’t be. It’s too much.
CHAPTER 14
“Ricardo, I need you get those papers to Mrs. Bryant for me. I’ve got to get over to the convention center for this presentation.” Michael shoved a few notes in his bag as he hurriedly put on his suit jacket and straightened his tie.
“Sure thing. By the way, here’s a jump drive with your slides just in case there is a problem with the ones I emailed to Randy last week.”
Michael nodded as he took the drive. “You’re a lifesaver, man! I appreciate it.”
“Are you coming back to the office?”
“That’s the plan. The session’s not supposed to last more than ninety minutes so I’ll probably get back here a little after five.”
“Do you want me to hang around to help out or what?”
“No, I should be okay. There are some things I want to get in front of this week. Where’s Lacy, by the way?”
“I thought she’d be back by now. Do you need me to get a message to her?” Ricardo asked.
“Yeah, just let her know I’ll meet with her friend about the open position next week. Can you two schedule something for me?”
“You got it. Anything else? Because it’s already after two, if you don’t leave soon, you’ll be late…and you hate to be late for anything.”
“I hate doing these fucking things. Remind me never to let Randy talk me into something like this again.”
“Sure thing. Now go! I’ll take care of things here…I always do.”
Michael nodded and headed out the door rushing towards the elevators.
Checking his watch as he made his way down to the lobby, he realized catching the Metro would barely get him there on time. It was already after two o’clock and he figured by the time he got out of the station and walked through the hall to reach the meeting room, he’d be late—and he hated being late. He decided his best bet was to simply take the brief cab ride. He managed to hail a cab fairly quickly even though it was clear the driver was a little irritated about the cheap fare. Nonetheless, that was one of the beauties of D.C.; a suited black man had little trouble getting a cab in this part of the city. But he still missed the efficiency of public transportation in New York.
The driver dropped him off at the Seventh and M Street entrance with ten minutes to spare to make his way up the escalators to the third level of the convention center. When he walked into Room 304, it was set for about a hundred making it far more intimate than he first imagined. He liked this setting far more than the idea of speaking to a group of hundreds. He took a deep breath trying to get his mind ready for the task in front of him. He walked to the front of the room and was greeted by Randy.
“Michael! Thanks again for agreeing to participate. You can put your things under the presenter’s table if you like. Let me introduce you to Leslie and Pierce.”
“Sure, that’d be great.” He smiled broadly as he turned to the others shaking their hands. Going through the introductions, he sized up the others. Leslie’s face suggested she was already stressed. Pierce seemed distant and fairly nonchalant about the whole thing. Yeah, this is going to be fun, he thought sarcastically.
“Just to reiterate, I’ll introduce everyone during my opening remarks and then you’ll have about fifteen minutes to present. We’ll do the Q and A and then we’re done,” Randy explained yet again.
“Sounds good. Is everything working well with the slides?” Pierce asked.
“There was a little problem with Leslie’s, but they seem to be working well now. Turns out the remote just needed some batteries.”
Well, that
explains why she looks like she could bite the head off a bat, he thought. He smiled at her but she still seemed wound very tightly and irritated. As much as he resisted these kinds of presentations, he also knew they were important venues for him to get his ideas in front of a wider audience of influencers and decision makers. It was much more than an academic exercise for him. He walked over to the table and set his bag on the chair. Reaching inside, he got his notes and set them on the table before rejoining the others. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw attendees milling near the doorway beginning to make their way into the room.
At first he wasn’t sure if his eyes and heart were playing tricks on him. But he felt an unsteadiness confirming the reality of it all. He hadn’t seen her since the wedding, but there was no doubt about it—Janine had come in and was taking a seat at the rear of the room. Of course she’s here, he thought. She was now head of The Remington Foundation, one the largest private philanthropies in the world. In addition to being a stunning appointment given her age, she was the first person to take the helm of the formidable group that wasn’t directly linked to the Remington family. When Dave Bennett, a close friend and classmate from law school told him about it, he was immensely proud of her. Her ambition, talent and hard work had certainly paid off.
As Randy and the others chatted, their voices blurred from his consciousness. His attention was squarely on her. Given the size of the room and the fact most of the attendees had not yet taken their seats, he could see her clearly. She looked lovely as ever. She wore a fitted skirt exposing a bit of her thigh, tailored jacket and heels slightly higher than he expected. Her style had always been reserved, but somehow she managed to be sexy as hell.
She had cut her hair since he’d last seen her and the style framed her face accentuating her features perfectly. In all the years he’d known her, she rarely wore makeup and when she did, it was minimal yet very becoming. He watched as she flipped through the conference program. If he didn’t know better, it seemed as if she were deliberately keeping her head and eyes down. But there was little doubt in his mind she knew he was there. He decided to make his way to her.
“Hi, Janine. It’s been a long time,” he said with a smile reflecting his genuine joy to see her.
“Michael.” Her smile was equally warm and yet he could tell she was a little tentative. “I’m really looking forward to hearing this session.”
“Thanks for coming,” he said knowing her comment was more a reflection of her uncertainty not ambivalence about seeing him.
“No problem. Make it worth my while,” she quipped as she tilted her head to the side.
There it was—the playfulness he so loved about her. He smiled at her saying, “I’ll do my best.” He glanced towards the front of the room and saw the others beginning to take their seats at the table. Before returning to them he asked, “Can we talk later?”
She smiled answering, “That would be nice.”
There was so much to say between them, and yet deep down he knew neither had to articulate the obvious connection they’d always share. It was the one thing he couldn’t fully understand let alone explain, but he accepted the intransient nature of their relationship a long time ago. Their never-ending bond kept drawing them to one another and aching for each other against all reason. For him, it was emotionally invigorating and equally exhausting. Unlike so much in his life, he had little to no control over his response to her because his head lost the battle to his heart when it came to her a long time ago.
He returned to the presenters’ table as more attendees took their seats. A few stood along the walls, as volunteers scurried to find additional chairs for them. As he shuffled his notes, he looked up and caught Janine’s eyes. She smiled warmly at him before lowering her eyes again. He could tell she was pulling out her notepad. She was a copious note taker. In law school he learned her notes didn’t necessarily reflect what the speaker said, but rather her own thoughts on a topic provoked by the speaker. He couldn’t wait to learn what she thought of his and the other panelists’ comments. Her inquisitive and thoughtful mind was the primary source of his love for her.
Randy took the podium beginning his introductions and opening statements before turning things over to Pierce. Michael couldn’t have been more removed. He listened as attentively as he could but found it took a great deal of effort to remain focused as he peered through the others to get a glimpse of her. Making matters worse, Pierce was reading his remarks in a dry monotonous drone while occasionally turning to the screen pointing out statistical data. By the time Leslie took the podium, he managed to feign interest as he drew his fingers to his chin and slid them over his lips in seemingly thoughtful gestures.
When it was his turn to present, he stood with notecards in hand and headed to the podium. He began with his key points and then one by one supported them with anecdotes of his experiences with his clients and supporting data. Fully in his rhythm, he felt confident not only with his content but also delivery. This was easy for him and he commanded the audience. When he finished, there was considerable applause, but he only looked to her. Her smile let him know he had done well. He looked forward to the range of questions she’d have for him when this was finally over.
As he took his seat, Randy returned to the podium to field questions from the attendees. One by one, people seemed more interested in Michael’s comments. They asked him to further articulate his thoughts about the importance of philanthropies steering from venture tactics to actually addressing the needs of nonprofits and their constituents. Randy tried to encourage questions to the others, but in one fashion or another it seemed to all come back to Michael. He relished the idea he may have actually made an impact. If only for a moment, these philanthropies considered other alternatives to address issues they claimed to care about.
With the session ending on time, Michael gathered his things and made his way back to Janine. He was stopped mid stride by a small group wanting to query him further. He was polite, but eager to keep his responses short. He exchanged a few business cards and excused himself from them.
“So, was that worth your while, Ms. Powell?” he asked as she rose to her feet gathering her things.
“Absolutely. I’d almost forgotten how good you are at this,” she said. “But you know that. You had these people eating out of your hands.”
“That might be a bit of hyperbole, but okay,” he said.
“No, really. You should be proud because you were very good. You made me think and I can’t wait to talk to you more about all this over drinks.”
“Well thank you. That means a lot coming from you. So where would you like to go?”
“I’m staying at the host hotel. We can walk from here and go to the bar. It’s very nice.”
“Okay, sounds good.” He politely touched the small of her back as she made her way through the doors. He looked at his watch and noted it was just shy of five o’clock. Making their way down the hall back to the escalators, he pulled out his cellphone and sent a quick text to Ricardo letting him know that he wouldn’t return as discussed.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. I originally planned to head back to my office. I’m just letting them know not to expect me.”
“If I’m keeping you from…”
“It’s fine. Seeing you is a pleasant surprise,” he said leading her out the large doors of the convention center.
As they walked, he adjusted to ensure she was never curbside with an effortlessness reflecting his exceptional manners and protectiveness of her. The subtle movements were a long-established habit for them that neither paid much attention to anymore.
“So have you been here for the entire conference?” he asked.
“Yes and I’m staying for a post-conference session. I’m also set to meet with colleagues based here in D.C.”
“Is this your first time at this particular conference?”
“Yes. I thought about coming right after the appointment last y
ear, but I just couldn’t make it work.”
“Other than the stellar session you just attended, have you been enjoying it?” He smiled broadly before turning his eyes from her.
“More than I thought, actually. It’s funny, I spent three years in D.C. and it’s almost like I’m experiencing the city for the first time.”
“Why do you say that?” he asked as they crossed another street. He could see her hotel straight ahead in the next block.
“When we were in law school, we pretty much stayed close to campus. With the exception of going to the Mall, museums and a few clubs, we didn’t get out much, if you think about it.”
“I guess we didn’t,” he acknowledged with a slight smirk. D.C. was virtually home for him so he tended to take some things for granted in the city. He quickly acknowledged law school had kept them fairly restricted to campus. “So you really liked our session?”
“Absolutely! It’s nice to know some of my ideas about how to make adjustments at the foundation aren’t completely off base. Your presentation helped solidify that.”
They entered the lobby and she turned to him saying, “Why don’t you head to the bar. I want to take these things up to my room. I’ll meet you there.”
“I don’t mind waiting here in the lobby.”
She smiled and said, “I won’t be long. Order me a rum and coke. I’ll be right down, okay?”
“Okay. Do you have a preference for your rum these days?”
“What ever you choose will be fine. I trust you.” She turned from him and entered the elevators looking back flirtatiously. As the doors closed he exhaled deeply and headed to the bar.
CHAPTER 15
They sipped on their cocktails as Janine fired one question after another at him regarding his presentation remarks. Michael loved the way her mind worked, flitting from one thought to another. She’d pose alternative views and then settle into her own perceptions about what worked in the grand scheme of things. He challenged her and she’d fire back in a banter that was easy, engaging and stimulating.
His Pleasures and Pain (Book II) (Allen Trilogy 2) Page 10