by Roz Lee
“It won’t do any good to call the police, Ms. . . . ”
“Winters. Mary Beth Winters.”
“Ms. Winters. The house is mine.”
“Don’t you have a name?”
“Elgin Huddleston.” He walked away. Again. This time Mary Beth let him go, too stunned to do anything else.
“Well, shit,” she mumbled to herself as his broad back and slim hips walked away. The prodigal grandson was back.
* * * * *
Adjusting to life in Prairieview, even for a little while, was going to take some effort. Hud wasn’t used to people questioning him. When he spoke, his people listened, and followed his orders. Usually it worked out for the best, and everyone walked away from the situation.
Usually. Except for the last mission. His men had listened to him then, and not all of them had walked away. In his mind, it was a cataclysmic failure, and the reason he was hiding out in Prairieview for the time being. Maybe if he’d relinquished his command to someone else when he received the news about his grandmother’s passing. Maybe if he hadn’t been consumed with guilt and self-loathing, he might have done things differently, and maybe everyone would have walked away.
He shook off the cold chill chasing down his spine and picked up his pace. Hud couldn’t believe the woman had the nerve to accost him on the street. Twice in one day, she’d dared more than most men would have. She had guts, he’d give her that. Everyone in town knew Elgin Huddleston. Gossip moved faster here than a blue norther in October. Even if Randy hadn’t given him a ride from the Dallas airport, news of his arrival would have burned up the telephone wires within minutes. It was the way of small towns, and one of the reasons he’d left fifteen years ago and hadn't come back, until now, and now was too late.
He tried not to think about the jolt of electric current he’d felt when she touched him, or his suspicions about her sexual proclivities. Female dominatrix just didn’t exist in Prairieview. Even as a teenager he’d understood his needs and desires weren’t commonplace, and that was part of the reason he’d left. He’d needed to explore the dark cravings of his soul, and there was no way he could do that in his small hometown. He doubted that had changed since he’d been gone. He shook off the suspicion. It was ludicrous. It was his long-denied libido’s wishful thinking. It had to be.
Main Street hadn’t changed much. Randy had mentioned the new Preservation Society and their work to revitalize the downtown area. If quaint was the look they were going for, then they had done a good job. The shops sported a new coat of paint, and baskets full of brightly colored flowers hung from the street lamps and were reflected in the sparkling clean store windows. He recognized a few stores that were there fifteen years ago, but most were new to him.
He passed an art gallery with a very modern sculpture in the front window and wondered who in Prairieview would buy something like that? When he’d left, the closest thing to culture in town was the two weeks a year the high school drama department put on their plays. The corner building that used to house the drugstore now was home to a bakery. The new owner had retained the cast iron façade at street level. At the roofline, on the second floor, was the original plasterwork declaring it to be the Haggard Building, built in 1884 when cotton was king. Hud glanced in the window as he passed by, noting the modern interior. It was odd to see the juxtaposition of old and new, but somehow it felt right. Everything looked the same on the outside, but inside everything was different, fresh and new, untainted by past failures. He continued on to the grocery store, vowing to stop in on his way back and pick up some sweets.
He was putting away his groceries when the delivery truck arrived with what he considered the essentials of life, a big, flat screen television, a sofa and a king size mattress set. The cable guy was set to arrive in the morning, but until then, Hud had a couple of movies he’d rented from the Red Box at the grocery store. He had a lot of catching up to do in regard to movies, so finding something he hadn’t already seen had been easy.
He stood on the front porch watching the delivery truck pull away when he saw her. She was standing at her front window watching him. He narrowed his eyes at her until she jumped out of sight, then he turned and went back inside. Maybe after he settled in he’d invite her over. He might not be able to get what he really wanted in this town, but he wouldn’t turn down a session of mattress aerobics with Ms. Winters. Behind that prim and proper, freeze your balls off name, was a red-hot woman. He’d bet his life on it.
Chapter Two
Elgin Huddleston had been in the house for two weeks. Talk was all over town about his return. If Mary Beth believed half the stories told about him, then he’d be better off locked up in prison than walking the streets of Prairieview. But, she amended, he wasn’t exactly walking the streets. Other than that first day, she hadn’t seen him outdoors at all. Every now and then, she noticed the local pizza delivery truck pull up, but that was it. Elgin ‘Hud’ Huddleston didn’t go out. Mrs. Huddleston’s beloved roses, and her lawn, were suffering for it, too.
Mary Beth stood on the porch. She’d finally gotten up enough nerve to see what he was up to and to tell him to clean up the yard. Through the oval glass front door, she could see the front room was empty except for the obscenely large flat screen television, the overstuffed sofa, and a stack of presumably empty pizza boxes and Dr. Pepper cans. The man was a slob. She knocked a few times and waited for Elgin Huddleston to appear. Either she’d picked the one time he’d chosen to leave the house, or he was avoiding her. She tapped her toe, contemplating her next move. She’d come this far, and she wasn’t turning back now.
What she was doing was insane. Just because he didn’t lock his door didn’t make it okay for her to walk in, but for some reason she couldn’t fathom, she turned the knob and stepped inside.
The fine hairs on the back of her neck began to tingle. The empty house echoed every step, every sound. It was so quiet she imagined she could hear her own heart beat.
She’d read stories about people who had sensed something terrible about to happen to them moments before it actually did. Until now she’d thought it was something they’d imagined after the fact—one of those, 'I should have known better', moments.
Elgin was behind her. She knew it with every molecule in her body, even though he hadn’t made a sound. She could hear her own breath coming harsh and ragged, but not his. It was almost unnatural the way he moved without making a sound, without disturbing the very air around him. Mary Beth sucked in a deep breath, plastered her best fake smile on her lips, and turned.
She’d noticed his eyes once before when he’d left off the mirrored sunglasses. If she had to describe them, she would have said they were stormy. They were a blue gray color when he was angry, the only way she’d ever seen him. She wondered what color his eyes would be if he showed some other emotion. Would they be lighter if he smiled? Would they be darker if he was aroused? Those were questions she didn’t think she would ever have an answer for. Judging from the scowl on his face, he wasn’t happy to see her, but what was new about that?
“Hi,” she squeaked.
“Breaking and entering. I’m surprised, Ms. Winters.”
“I. . . I didn’t break in. Your door was unlocked.” It was a weak defense, but all she had.
“So, you took that as an invitation.”
“Yes. No,” she corrected. “You didn’t answer when I knocked, so I came to check on you.” No way was she going to tell him about the fantasies she’d had about him, or that something she didn’t want to think about, compelled her to pay him a visit. “I wanted to talk to you about the roses.”
“What about the roses?”
“They’re dying. You need to water them.”
His stormy eyes fixed on her, and she got the impression he could see right through her. And then he simply turned and walked toward the kitchen. Mary Beth followed. “Well?”
“Well what?” He disappeared into the walk-in pantry and emerged a second later. A pai
r of shiny handcuffs hung from his right index finger. “Are you going to arrest me if I don’t water the roses?”
It was as if a tornado descended on the house, sucking all the air from the room. Her head swam from lack of oxygen, and the knowing smile on Elgin Huddleston’s face didn’t help one bit. He knew. He knew her dirty little secret. Dear God. In five years, no one in Prairieview had even come close to guessing, and he’d figured it out in the few minutes they’d been in each other’s company.
His voice was low and gentle. Nothing like the voice she’d become accustomed to. “You can breathe now, Mistress. I won’t tell anyone.” No one had called her that in a very long time. Hearing it from his lips sent a tingle along every dormant nerve ending in her body, and made her want things she thought she’d never have again.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied through her teeth. The handcuffs picked up the band of sunlight streaming through the cherry curtain draped window, and reflected it around the room like a mirrored disco ball. “What are you going to do with those?”
“I’m not going to do anything with them, unless you tell me to.” He took a step closer, and she fought the urge to back away. “Tell me what you want me to do with them, Mistress. Do you want me to wear them?” His voice seduced her with its melodic timbre. “Do you want me on my knees, Mistress? Tell me what you want. Your desire, is my desire.”
“Don’t play with me, Elgin.” God, she couldn’t believe this. She should run like hell, but her feet refused to move. She studied his face. He might be toying with her, but something about the way he looked at her, like a lost puppy hoping she’d put a leash on him and take him home, got to her.
“I don’t play games.” He snapped the cuffs into the palm of his hand, closed his fist around them, and backed away from her. She hadn’t realized how close he’d come to her until he straightened to his full height and looked down at her. “I guess I was wrong about you. Go away, and leave me alone.”
“I’m sorry, Elgin. I haven’t. . . . ”
“It’s okay. Run along now. I won’t tell anyone about this little conversation. Your secret is safe with me.”
“I. . . . ”
“I said its okay. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
As if he’d broken the spell, her feet came unglued, and she ran.
* * * * *
Ms. Mary Beth Winters was a complication Hud didn’t need. Ever since he’d first determined she wasn’t a hallucination, she’d been a constant image in his brain. Talk about an all-consuming disease. Lust, fueled by abstinence, burned like a wildfire through dry brush. It had been a long dry spell for him, and every neglected nerve ending sparked when she was around. For the past week, he’d even woken with her on his mind, his body yearning for hers. Abstinence, for whatever reason, messed with your mind.
He followed more slowly as she ran from his kitchen. From the front window, he watched her perfect ass as she high-tailed it across the street to the safety of her prim and proper mid-century bungalow. The problem, he thought, was that he couldn’t do anything about his dry spell in Prairieview, and he wasn’t going anywhere else for a while. With a sigh, he pocketed the handcuffs and turned from the window.
Chapter Three
She shoved shoes aside and tugged on the leather handle. A layer of dust coated the top of the box. Mary Beth swiped it away with the palm of her hand and sat back on her heels. Five years. She hadn’t dared open the box in all that time, afraid once she did, the needs she’d buried deep inside would come out in the light of day again. They obviously hadn’t been buried as deep as she thought they were. He’d seen them.
Mary Beth ran her finger over the intricately wrought lock. Need coursed through her, and something else she’d never felt before. None of her other subs had ever really needed her, not like she’d needed them, but something in Elgin’s eyes told her he was in pain, and his eyes had silently pleaded with her to help him.
Her other hand fingered the key she wore around her neck. If she opened the box, would she find the answers she needed there? She’d sworn she wouldn’t open the box again, not unless it was the only way to find the answers. For the first time in five years, Mary Beth thought perhaps the answers were locked away after all. Maybe the answers weren’t hers this time, but Elgin’s.
She left the box in the middle of the floor and headed for the shower. Cold water, and lots of it, was what she needed. Between the heat Texans called Spring, and the encounter with Elgin, she welcomed the tepid water, as close to cold as you could get without the aid of ice cubes. She ducked her head under the spray and willed the water to erase the images burned in her brain. From the moment she met Elgin Huddleston something had pulled her to him, something she’d never felt before. He would be a challenge, but if he submitted fully, he’d be well worth the effort. She had no doubt in her mind, Elgin knew how to make a woman feel good.
He wanted her. He made no attempt to hide his arousal. She had no idea what manner of man he really was, that was reality. She knew virtually nothing about him. The handcuffs he’d taunted her with weren’t anything like the ones in her toy box. His were cop-issue. Not that hers weren’t equally as strong, but cold metal made a statement.
Mary Beth groaned and turned her face to the water. An image of Elgin’s strong wrists, shackled at the small of his back by chrome cuffs, invaded her mind. Her fertile imagination filled in the details—the dimples just above his tight ass cheeks, the hard muscles in his shoulders bunched with the unnatural position. The corded muscles in his thighs strained to maintain his equilibrium as he balanced on his knees in front of her. His balls hung low between his thighs, his cock stood like a proud soldier waiting for orders. Above the broad expanse of his chest, his face is stoic, his eyes downcast.
Whoa! No, he wouldn’t submit that easily. He might go down on his knees for her easily enough, but whatever he held inside him, whatever it was he thought he needed to be punished for, wasn’t going to be that easily found.
Mary Beth toweled off and strolled naked to the bedroom. Since the room was on the front of the house, she kept the shades down for privacy, so she didn’t bother to dress. A blast of cold air from the overhead register made her skin break out in goose flesh and her nipples harden. She sat on the side of the bed and stared at the leather-bound chest. It had been an expensive purchase, but she’d invested a lot of money in the contents and wanted them to be well protected. She’d sold her custom-made furniture before she moved to Prairieview. There’d been no way to disguise it, no way to explain it to the movers, or to her inquisitive new neighbors. Besides, her little bungalow was too small for anything but the basics.
Still, it would be nice to have certain pieces now. She doubted Elgin would hold still for much, and she wasn’t strong enough to fight him. He’d have to be restrained by a lot more than a pair of chrome-plated handcuffs if she was going. . . . Shit! Mary Beth pulled on shorts and a tank top and strode angrily to the kitchen. She poured a glass of tart lemonade and gulped it down. She was not going to dominate Elgin Huddleston. She wasn’t even going to try to dominate Elgin Huddleston. It was impossible. He wasn’t the kind of man to. . . . To what?
She refilled her glass and dropped a few ice cubes in it for good measure. The box drew her back, and she dropped to her knees in front of it. Opening it was out of the question. She’d boxed up that part of her life, and it was going to stay that way. She set her glass on the nightstand and shoved the heavy box back into the closet. She tossed a few pair of shoes in the general direction of the box and closed the door.
Mary Beth flicked on the light in her converted garage. The oversized detached garage was what had convinced her to buy the house. She’d spent the last of her savings converting it to a studio. She’d splurged for the tiny bathroom and shower, skimped on the kitchen, opting for a mini-fridge and a microwave oven. A pulley and chain system hung from the ceiling, allowing her to move the heavy stone she sometimes work
ed with, without calling in outside help. The oak floors were tough enough to take whatever she dealt them, and the plantation shutters on the solitary window provided the isolation she needed. With them closed, she was in her own little world, and that’s the way she liked it.
Her latest sculpture waited for her on the big table in the center of the room. In her art, she was always in control. The clay responded to her touch, obeyed her every command. She molded it with her hands, her imagination, her love. Every piece was a part of her, and she hated to part with them, but they sold well enough for her to live the way she wanted. Without the steady income from selling her work, she’d never be able to hide in Prairieview, or maintain the small gallery on Main Street. She pulled her stool up to the table. As soon as she touched the clay, her jangled nerves calmed. Thoughts of everything but what it would become, fled.
It was late when she locked the studio door behind her and headed to the house. She could just see Elgin’s house from her driveway. Every night, a light remained on in the back of the house. Its weak beam sliced across the shrubs and was swallowed up by the darkness beyond the window. There was something about the lonely slice of light that cut Mary Beth to the core. She’d been there herself, sitting awake in the wee hours of the night, unable to find oblivion in sleep. At least she had her work to occupy her time.