by Theresa Papa
Jennifer picks up on the first ring. She probably has that sixth sense that we do with each other when something is wrong.
“Hey bitch, why are you calling in the middle of the day? Is something wrong?”
“Just as I thought, your spidey senses are all firing, aren’t they?”
Her voice becomes more concerned quickly. “What the fuck happened?”
“Don’t get nervous. I’m fine, but I’m at the hospital. The clumsy oaf in me showed up today. I fell from a ladder doing my Disney Princess impersonation, and a large book hit me in the head. I’m on my way to a CT scan now, but the doctor believes it’s just a concussion. So can you please pick me up later this afternoon? I don’t want my parents all crazy with worry.”
“Okay, will you call me when they give you a definite time? I’m on my way to an interview right now, but I won’t be long. Will you need someone to stay with you tonight? I’m supposed to work at the club at seven.”
“No need to stay with me. I don’t want you to miss work so soon after you started there. I’m already feeling better, and I’ll just need to rest. Can you do me a huge favor and call the salon to tell Nico I won’t be in tonight and what happened too. I don’t want him to assume I’m just flaking on him like I did when he kissed me.”
“No problem, I’ll call him right now. Text me hottie’s number and when it’s time to pick you up. I’ll see you then. Sam, take care of yourself.”
“I will, thanks.”
Chapter 18
Samantha Marconi
I lie on the table while the machine moves all around my head. I was supposed to have my hair cut with Nico tonight. Maybe the answers to all my nagging questions about him will have to wait until tomorrow. His stunning home was so peaceful, and he made me feel wanted but with the utmost respect. He was never brazen like the sexy plumber. Nico’s reverence shows through every time he touches me even when he kissed me. He was so gentle, so loving. He’s the kind of man who could make a woman feel worshipped and adored. My stomach does backflips just at the sight of him because his looks are hypnotic. But now that I’ve spent time with him, he’s so much more than a great package on the outside. There’s a depth to him that he’s not afraid to show me. It almost made him seem vulnerable, which is stupid because he’s a big, muscular guy. Does that make my questions about him being bisexual more valid in a way? Is this vulnerability mixed with raw masculinity what makes him attractive to both sexes and in tune with what each gender wants and needs?
The machine stops, and the technician assists me as I get off the table. I decide I’m feeling better enough to walk back to the ER on my own. He walks closely beside me until he courteously hands me over to Sherry once again. She motions toward the tray she has waiting in front of the chair. I’m glad I don’t have to get back into bed. I hope they get the results soon so I can go home.
The doctor comes in shortly after and gives me the green light to go home.
“I’m Dr. Warner. I want to emphasize that concussions don’t always present themselves right away; you need to be very careful for the first twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Consider yourself on bed rest with bathroom privileges only tonight, especially on the pain medication I’ve prescribed. You can resume regular duties tomorrow,” he warns. “Take care of yourself, Ms. Marconi.”
I grab my phone and call Jen. It rings and rings with no answer. I hang up and call her again. Still no answer so I text her. What the hell! There is no way Jen would ever leave me hanging, especially at the hospital. Okay, calm down, Samantha. Maybe she broke her phone somehow or lost it.
Sherry walks back in to get my tray.
“Will they let me take a cab home?”
“I’m sorry, hospital rules say you need someone to pick you up,” Sherry answers with a headshake.
I quickly dial Dafny, and she picks up on the first ring.
“Hey Daf, can you pick me up at the hospital?”
“Sam! I heard what happened to you. It’s all over the office. I’d be more than happy to come pick you up.”
“The nurse would in no uncertain terms allow me to leave in a cab,” I explain.
“Hang tight, I’ll be there in a few.”
As we ride back to my place, I assure Dafny that I’m much better and my headache has responded to the meds the doctor gave me. It is sweet how she wants to come in and take care of me, but I decline when we see there are no parking places available. Oh my gosh, my car is in one of those spaces. Nico must have had it brought here. I need to know what happened to Jen.
I go directly up the stairs to Jen’s apartment and knock a few times but get no answer. There was also no answer on her cell phone on the way home in Dafny’s car. Jen and I exchanged keys a long time ago, mainly for convenience. This time, though, I frantically search my key ring and open her door. My sixth sense fires on all cylinders now, and it makes me shake. As I walk slowly through the apartment, nothing is out of place or amiss. I let go of the breath I was holding and sit down at her desk. Now my headache is back full force, but I can’t let it stop me from the search for my friend. I open her laptop and use her password to sign on to the find her phone app. This will tell me the last place she had her phone and at least give me a place to start to look for her. The result shows that Club Beta is where her phone is now. So help me, if she just went right to work and forgot all about me, I will kill her. After I lock up and head down to my car, the voice of the doctor repeats in my head.
“They’ll make you sleepy, so no operating heavy equipment or driving, right? Consider yourself on bed rest with bathroom privileges.”
I quickly push those thoughts out of my head and drive to Club Beta. My phone rings, and I feel around on the seat for my hands free device. Please let this be Jen.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Sam, it’s Nico. How are you feeling?
“Oh. Hi, I’m fine. Thank you for your concern.”
“Of course, I’m concerned, I care about you Sam. I wanted to come and bring you something for dinner. But I’m afraid I’m being summoned to fulfill an obligation for my family tonight. So I’m sorry, but I’ll make it up to you.”
“That’s very sweet of you. Thank you. The doctor says I’m fine, so I’ll see you tomorrow morning since it’s Saturday.”
“No, I insist you take the day off and rest for the weekend. But I would like to visit you tomorrow.”
I grin at that.
“Okay, I look forward to it. Bye!”
“Goodbye, beautiful! Take good care of yourself.”
I forgot to thank him for my car. I have so much on my mind, and I can’t think straight on these pills.
I pull up slowly at Club Beta, admiring the castle-like exterior. A jet-black steeply arched roof sets off four majestic stories of cut gray stone. The faceted rippled texture highlighted in the blinding theatrical lights pointing up onto it. Two grand turrets surround a third-floor concave balcony in front. As I drive around the side, there are an identical set in the back, overlooking Lake Michigan. Palladium windows stripe every side of the whole length of the edifice. Under the front balcony, an oversized arched entranceway covers several patrons as they wait in long lines to enter. I’ll have to use Giselle’s name to get anywhere near the front. This place is huge. How will I find Jen?
I finally find parking and turn off the car. Briefly, I rest my head against the steering wheel because it pounds like a jackhammer. I pop open the bottle to take two more pills and hopefully get some relief. An attempt to feel in the dark has my fingers on a bottle of water resting on my car seat. It’s warm, but it does the trick. I check myself in the mirror and cringe. Nothing a little hair spoof and lipstick won’t cure. When I jump out of the car, I get a little dizzy and stop to get my bearings. The cool evening air helps get my head straight. Much to the chagrin of some of the line dwellers, I walk straight up to the front door, and jackpot, there’s Giselle. She has perfect posture with her shoulders b
ack to convey her authority over the crowd. I can’t let that intimidate me now. When her eyes land on me, they go wide, and her false eyelashes flutter from the blinking. She opens the rope and motions me inside.
“What are you doing? Are you here to meet someone?”
“No, uh, thanks for letting me in.” She nods. “I’m looking for my friend Jennifer Chambers? She just started here as a hostess.” Her mouth tightens which emphasizes the pouty lips, and then she turns away to survey the crowd.
“Yes, I know Jennifer. She never showed up for work tonight, and she never even called. She really left us in a bind.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Should I say anything about being worried about Jen to Giselle? She’s acting weird. My sixth sense tells me Giselle knows more than she’s saying. Maybe I should stick around to check things out. After all, Jen’s phone is shown as being here.
“Hey Giselle, I would be happy to help out and take her place for tonight for free. Just so you let Jen keep her job because she really needs it. You know I’m a good worker or Nico wouldn’t have hired me.”
She looks at me a few moments, her eyes scanning my outfit as she contemplates my offer, and then she shrugs.
“Okay, since we’re so shorthanded, I’ll have Olga get you situated.” She turns to the woman behind her, another tall blonde like herself, and says a few words. Olga nods her head and motions for me to follow her.
Chapter 19
Mistress Samantha
While I follow Olga through the main dance area inside Club Beta, I strain my neck to see balconies on the upper two floors with people wildly hanging over them all the way around the large rectangle. A multi-million-dollar light and laser show alternates with the earsplitting music. Carefully, we maneuver our way through the crowded dance floor and the tables and bars surrounding it. Olga looks back to make sure I’m keeping up with her. There are glass-enclosed stages where scantily clothed actors depict various erotic scenes. In metal cages suspended above the dance floor, exotic dancers perform. And lastly, I wrinkle my nose at the wet scenes, where participants are wrestling in various mushy mediums while dressed in barely there swimwear.
The lights mess with my head, and I squeeze my lids shut for a second. A sharp exhale escapes my lungs with relief when we reach a wide stone staircase at the far end that descends into dimmer lighting. In fact, it’s completely medieval in style. It looks like the illumination where we are headed is not born of electricity but of fire. Torch-like sconces line the walls and red candles sit in niches. Olga’s ponytail bounces as we descend the stairs. The music becomes more distant, making it conducive to hold a conversation.
“My name is Olga. I take care of all the VIP clients in the lower level.”
“I’m Sam. Do you know my friend Jennifer Chambers?”
“Yes, I know Jen. I haven’t seen her since earlier this afternoon.”
“Do you know why she had to come in during the day?”
“I’m sorry, I have no idea.” She shakes her head slowly.
I believe Olga. But why did Jen tell me she had an interview this afternoon? Was that here? Who was it with?
Olga leads me into a large dressing room with long racks of all different types of clothing and costumes. My mind is on Jen, and I still have a headache. My brain is not firing on all cylinders, so I allow Olga to take over the conversation.
“The castle was built in 1892 and has a capacity of more than 3,000. It spans 60,000 square feet; we have a secluded VIP space, a VVIP space, and a VVVIP space. As you can imagine, each is a different level of pleasure for the client. We pride ourselves on the creation of any fantasy imaginable with the utmost discretion.”
While she explains her spiel, I decide to sit down and rest a minute to rub my temples. The next thing I know, she holds up a black leather strapless mini dress that cinches all the way down the back with leather laces. In the mirror behind her, my reflection reveals all the color drain from my face, and my eyebrows end up somewhere past my hairline.
“Y-you want me to wear that?”
“Yes, but you can keep on those really hot boots because they will go well with it. This is what the client whose scene you will provide tonight requested. But don’t worry, you’ll wear a mask the whole time and so will the client, so there will be anonymity. As soon as you are dressed, I’ll give you the rest of the instructions.”
“Is this what Jen will do when she’s here? Am I to assume that I’ll be alone with a man to act out his fantasy? I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this,” I protest.
“We all help in any areas where we’re needed. I’m not sure where Jen will work, but this is where we need help tonight. Giselle told me you offered to help so that Jen could keep her job.”
“Well, yes, but I never expected …”
“Listen, it really is very easy. In this scene, the gentleman is already restrained when you go in. All you have to do is act sensual and talk dirty to him. You’re not required to have sex with him or even release him if you don’t want to. You will have him call you Mistress. Just tease him, use the tools that hang on the pegs on the wall. Start out mild with the feathers or the lighter whips. You might enjoy yourself!”
She smiles, winks, and hands me the dress. How did I get myself into this? Except maybe the longer I hang around here I can find out more about what happened to Jennifer. Okay, how hard could this be? Well, he could be very hard, what then? Ha-ha …
Olga leads me to a screen to change behind, and that’s when I spot the leather thong on the hanger. This should be interesting with my ample assets in the rear. I take my clothes off and hang them on the hook. I slip into the thong and then step into the dress. As I straighten, I discover that the soft leather definitely has a definite stimulating effect on my nether regions compared to my usual silk or lace panties. Friction fast becomes my very good friend. Wow.
“Come out here, and I will secure the laces in back for you,” Olga says.
I slowly appear from behind the screen, and she turns me around to face the mirror so I can view my grimace. As she laces up the back with the thick leather cord and pulls it tight, my breasts are pushed up as high as they can go. Yes, people the girls are overflowing, and one wrong move there will be a nip slip. Then she turns and hands me the mask. It is made in black and gold feathers and will cover the top part of my face while leaving my nose and mouth free.
“Now this is the most important part because the mask gives you anonymity. You can be anyone and do anything you want. No one knows who you are. It also gives you confidence to do things you may never be inclined to do normally. The mask will give you a commanding presence as Mistress too.”
As I study myself in the mirror, Olga places the mask over my face. Then she applies bright red lipstick and brushes my hair into soft waves falling over my bare shoulders. She is right. This look does make me feel fierce and in command. I’m confident that I can do this and find out what happened to my friend after I’m finished.
Chapter 20
Mistress Samantha
Olga leads the way through the candlelit corridors past many large arched wooden doors. They have the wrought iron crosshatched hardware centered high over a lookout panel that adds to the ambiance of the subterranean dwelling. Some of them are open, and I try to peek in, but she moves too fast. There’s nothing to glean from the surroundings so far as to the whereabouts of Jen. I guess I will find out soon enough. My hands shake, and a bead of sweat rolls down under the mask. I go to wipe my sweaty palms on my sides, but it’s not a good idea because they just slide all the way down the leather dress. Finally, Olga slows her stride and takes a key ring out of her pocket. She stops in front of one of the doors and turns toward me. I imagine my deer in headlight gaze is sufficient response.
“Are you ready? Don’t be nervous. Just do as I described, and you will be fine. When you walk in, put your bag with your clothes and purse in the desk. Is your cell phone off?”
All I can manage is to nod my head in confirmation. Then she quickly unlocks the door, and just like that, I’m in.
When Olga closes the door behind me and uses the key to relock it, I jump at the click. I instinctively lean up against the solid door in hope some of its strength will fuse with my body to hold me up. The room is quiet except for some sort of Gregorian chant playing at a low volume. Black distressed wood planks cover the floor. My palms slide up the door to feel the cool stone walls beyond the threshold. There are tapestries covering two of the other walls, colored with deep reds, blacks, and grays. They make it appear warmer than I imagined it would be. But then, the shocking realization of exactly where I am and what I’m expected to do hits me like a ton of bricks. The fourth interior wall is pewter in color with every bit of wall space devoted to different erotic tools and devices. I contemplate each implement carefully as my eyes roam the span of various restraints, canes, whips, paddles, ball gags, and even hairbrushes.
I consider the fact that I was so stupid not to ask someone for help in finding out what happened to Jennifer. I must be crazy to believe that I could solve this by myself.
Suddenly, someone clears their throat, and I whip my head over to where the sound originates. My eyesight is somewhat blurry for some reason, and I blink rapidly to clear it, shaking my head free of the sudden cobwebs. Then I step into the chamber toward the client, clicking the heels of my leather boots against the floor. I have to squint due to only candlelight but can see a man across the room. He’s shackled to a large, wooden frame shaped like the letter X with his back toward me. My hesitant steps bring me to where I observe his mask, which looks like it covers all of his head except for his nose and mouth. The mask like Batman wears comes to mind in comparison but without the ears. It’s all he has on except a thin pair of silk boxers. My eyes absorb the sight of his body. His arms are suspended above his head and end in masculine hands with long fingers encircled at the wrist by metal shackles. He has chiseled biceps and broad shoulders with corded muscles in his back and a slim waist. Through his form-fitting boxers, rigid mounds with sexy indentations along the sides are visible. I know Olga said anonymity is key, but in my head, I name him David because Michelangelo sculpted his ass and thighs.