by Faith Starr
“You don’t know anything about me.” I, in turn, took a step back.
“I’m quite perceptive. Besides, I do background checks on all of our members. That includes guests who visit the club.”
“You did a background check on me?” How dare he do such a thing without my permission? My usual soft-spoken voice was now on sabbatical.
“If you thoroughly read the confidentiality agreement you signed, you would’ve clearly seen that piece of information printed in black-and-white. We can’t jeopardize the safety and security of our members by just letting anyone in here. It’s an exclusive club, and we take every precaution necessary to keep it that way. We cater to elite clients, some of whom are well-known to the public. They trust us to keep them safe and their identities protected.”
“So what is it you discovered about me?” Even though I was peeved, I was curious as to what he’d found out.
He took another step toward me. I took another step back. I needed to keep a safe distance between us.
“You’ve led a comfortable life. No offenses, drugs, or unlawful acts.” He continued to slowly step my way, his eyes burning into mine.
“Yes. That would be me. It must sound kind of boring to someone like you.” I was uttering nonsense. I couldn’t think straight. What was happening to me? I needed a cooling towel, a gigantic one. Shit.
“Why are you feeling defensive? I haven’t made any negative statements about your character.”
“I’m not.” I sounded like I was. I crossed my arms, giving me a false sense of space.
“I think you are.”
Uh-oh, there was no place left for me to go. The hard wall behind me was now the enemy, not giving me any room for escape.
“I also think you like what you’ve seen here at the club so far.”
Now he’s leaning in. Breathe!
Our feet touched. He pushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear. And let me point out that his gaze was like lasers shooting into me, causing my insides to go haywire.
“I…”
“You don’t have to argue every point. I’m simply making my own observations.”
Why did his breath have to smell as good as the rest of him? It was almost hypnotic, if not tempting every fiber in my being to inch forward to see if he tasted as scrumptious as he smelled. Damn Noah Dorian.
“That’s supposed to be my job.” Oh my gosh. I sounded like a schoolgirl with a childhood crush, giggling stupidly.
“Yes, it is, but I’m having a rather good time doing your job too.”
“Why’re you doing this?” Confusion filled me. I was a little light-headed in addition to the other slew of symptoms having a field day inside me. He was pretty much suffocating me with his charm and good looks.
“All I’m doing is pointing out to you that you don’t always have to keep yourself so tightly wound. Sometimes it’s nice to let loose.”
“And what’re you implying?”
“I’m merely suggesting that you allow me to bring some of your curiosity to life.”
Say what? “You mean like mentor me in BDSM? Sorry, but I’m not a bow down, please and thank you, Sir, type of a woman.” Reality check! It was time to dodge this bullet. Unfortunately, it was somewhat impossible since he had me caged between his strong arms.
“I’m not so sure about that. Besides, you’ll never know unless you try.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve given you the wrong impression, Noah. I think maybe I should go.” I needed air. I needed to get out of this room. I needed Noah Dorian. That’s what I needed.
The next thing I knew his mouth crashed onto mine, his tongue swiftly finding its way inside with no hesitancy whatsoever. “I’m melting,” said the Wicked Witch of the East as well as Jordin Turner for experiencing the best kiss of her life. Lord help me.
He released a hand from the wall and cradled my face, bolts of euphoric energy taking a direct path south as a result. His fingers gently caressed my skin, awakening nerve endings I didn’t even know existed. I practically liquefied against him.
Oh, how this man could kiss. His tongue swirled around mine with no pauses or interruptions. My knees almost buckled from the intensity of it.
What I was doing was wrong on so many levels, yet I couldn’t stop myself. Nor did I want to. Noah awakened something deep inside me I didn’t even know existed. He was a man in every sense of the word. And he had the muscles, intimidation, and intelligence to prove it. I could only imagine how good he was in the bedroom if this was how he kissed. Not that I had much to compare him to. The only bedroom experiences in my memory bank were those I’d had with my ex, Studious Sam, which didn’t say much. He was boring, just like I was coming to realize my sex life had always been.
Bam!
As fast as the kiss had come, it was now over. Noah stood in front of me again but this time with a glimmer of vulnerability shining in his eyes. At least he could hold himself together. Me? I was practically hyperventilating.
“I like the impression you’ve given me. Are you ready to interview the couple?” The glimmer disappeared, replaced with a shield instead. “The party should be finishing up by now.”
That was it? He kissed me like I was Vivien Leigh in Gone with the Wind and then carried on like we were mere coworkers? What the hell?
Once again, he seemed unfazed by an act of intimacy. The only telltale sign that assured me he and I were on the same page was the one thing he couldn’t hide, the bulge in his slacks. Noah could act like Mr. Tough Guy all he wanted, but I knew there was a gentle soul hidden underneath all those muscles. I had seen a glimpse of it a moment ago. It would just take a bit of digging to get it out.
“Yeah, sure, that would be great.” I smoothed my dress, trying to compose myself as best I could under the circumstances.
Neither one of us said a word on our way back to the dungeon.
The guests were saying their goodbyes when we entered. Noah escorted them out. Then I had the privilege of meeting the happy couple in his office. He sat at his desk doing work on his computer while I asked them questions. They answered with no shame or guilt. They gave off the impression of a couple in love.
Interesting. I had spent months doing research and forming opinions about the types of women who engaged in this kind of lifestyle. Yet every glimpse I got into their world, whether through observations, questionnaire portfolios, or interviews, only proved I was wrong in my original beliefs. That scared the hell out of me.
The sub gave me a hug goodbye. The Dom shook my hand. Once again I was alone with Noah, which scared me even more.
“I guess you should have everything you need for tonight.” He spoke matter-of-factly.
The sensitivity I had seen a flash of a short time ago was now long gone. He was too busy staring at his computer screen to even look up and acknowledge me.
Jerk.
“Yes. I gathered a lot of great information tonight.” Why wouldn’t he look at me? I hadn’t done anything wrong. Was he judging me? Did he think I was easy because of the kiss? Did he think I was a bad kisser? I prayed it wasn’t any of those things.
“I’m sure you have.”
What did he mean by that? Now I felt downright rejected and defensive.
“So I guess that’s it. Thank you again for all your help.”
The air was so thick you could cut it with a machete. I didn’t need to be treated like this. Who the hell did he think he was?
“Anytime.”
My mouth fell open in disbelief. This must’ve been a joke, right? And me, like an idiot, sat waiting for a punch line that never came.
He must’ve sensed my angst, because he rose and walked around his desk toward me, again placing his hand against my back, at which I abruptly stepped away.
He seemed taken aback. What did he expect, a kiss and a hug for totally unraveling me?
With my eyes locked firmly ahead of me, we strode to the exit, with me not giving him the time of day during the process.
&nbs
p; “I’ll see you soon.”
I turned to reply, my barriers up and ready to defend against an unexpected attack. But there it was again, that exposed look in his eyes. It was almost as if the blue in them had become a tinge darker. Of all times!
My anger vanished with my exhalation. In that brief moment Noah had put his guard down again. It warmed my heart and put a smile on my face, because it meant he shared the attraction.
A wave goodbye and I took off for my car, checking him out before climbing into it. A flutter of excitement filled my heart to see him still standing outside watching me.
He flashed me a sweet smile and a sayonara wave.
In my rearview mirror, I spied on him, watching him enter the building and close the door behind him.
Wow. Noah Dorian had kissed me in a fantasy room. This was insane. I needed to speak with someone about it. I didn’t care if it was the middle of the night. The voices in my head were going crazy and needed release.
“He kissed you?” That was pretty much all Casey heard from my replay of events.
“Yes. He kissed me and then acted as though nothing happened. What’s that about?”
“Why didn’t you ask him?”
“Because I was too blown away and in shock. He acts all big and tough one minute, then all soft and sweet the next. He totally overstepped his boundaries tonight.” And I loved every second of it.
“It doesn’t sound to me like you’re disappointed about it. Stop lying to yourself and admit you find him interesting. He obviously likes you too.” The remnants of her yawn came through loud and clear.
“He’s a player, Casey. He acts out sex scenes with members at his club. He’s probably playing another role with me.” Please, don’t let that be the case. I kept that prayer to myself.
“That’s not true. You told me he doesn’t usually do scenes. That he only fills in.”
“And? What are you suggesting I do?”
“I say you keep accepting his invites and see what happens.”
“Nothing’s going to happen between me and Noah Dorian. He works in a sex club. Need I say more?”
“Correction, he owns a sex club. We could all add a little spice to our lives, right?”
This was no use. She was only encouraging me.
“Good night, Casey. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“You know I’m right. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”
Ugh! She was so infuriating. But so right.
It was difficult to be objective while going through my notes and putting them into words, especially after viewing the collaring ceremony and speaking with the couple. They were regular people with their own careers and hobbies but liked things a little kinky in the bedroom. What was the harm in that?
The more I observed at the club, the more I saw how confident and comfortable the members felt in their own skin. Could I say the same about myself? Absolutely not. I wouldn’t even have sex with the lights on.
My work continued until the wee hours of the night. I woke up early to meet Casey for a new spin class on campus she wanted to try out. I didn’t have to be at the clinic for several hours so it worked out perfectly.
We planned to meet in front of the rec center so we could enter together.
“Hey Jordin, Casey, what’re you girls doing here?” Eddie was in our Psy.D. program. He happened to be exiting the center as we entered.
“The same thing as you.”
Wow. Casey had woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Either that or she had recently developed a spontaneous case of Multiple Personality Disorder.
“Lifting free weights?” Eddie’s sarcasm wasn’t going to help him win her over, especially in the mood she was in.
“No, smartass, we’re taking a spin class.”
Maybe he needed to try a different approach. In my opinion, not that he asked for it, the best one would be to leave her alone.
“Since you’re here, Jordin, would you mind meeting up with me again? I could use a little help.”
Casey sighed loudly, obviously wanting my attention. I gave it to her but got nothing. Nada. I couldn’t read her silent message. Oh well. She’d have to fill me in later.
“Sure. When were you thinking of meeting?”
She grunted. Maybe it was me, but I still didn’t understand her silent communication.
“Are you free tomorrow?”
“In the morning I am. How about we meet at eight?”
“I’ll meet you inside.” Casey stormed off.
What in the world was wrong with her?
Eddie watched her ass during her exit. Typical guy.
“Great. Thanks,” he replied.
Inside, I found Casey. She had reserved a bike next to hers for me to use.
“What’s going on with you this morning? You were in a great mood until we bumped into Eddie.“
“The only time he talks to you is when he wants help with his research. It pisses me off.” She took a sip of water and set her plastic bottle in the holder on top of the bike.
“I don’t mind, so you shouldn’t either.”
The instructor in the front of the room climbed onto her bike. She turned the music on via remote. Unfortunately, the seat on mine was too low. I adjusted it at high speed. I didn’t want to miss the warm up.
“I don’t want him using you.”
“Thanks for watching out for me, but I’m okay with helping him.” I knew her evil glance was a gesture of love.
My legs shook, jiggly like goo, by the time the class finished. Casey and I were both covered in sweat. We trudged across campus to the parking lot. I honestly didn’t know how I made it either.
We said our goodbyes, and I went home to shower and dress for work.
My role at the women’s clinic was to facilitate group therapy sessions and meet one-on-one with clients on my roster. The client base was largely made up of women who had suffered domestic abuse of some form, whether from a spouse, a child, or another family member. For severe cases, clients would be treated at an inpatient facility first. Then, once stabilized, they would be able to utilize our services as they transitioned back into the real world. I had already been interning here for several months while fulfilling my practicum requirements under the supervision of Dr. Reddy, the chief psychologist.
The relationship between domestic and sexual violence against women, upbringing, and how it affected their sexual relationships as adults, fascinated me; hence, my research on the BDSM lifestyle. I was curious as to whether abused women had a preference for that type of activity as a reaction to past psychological trauma.
This morning my group consisted of about eight women, all of whom had suffered some form of domestic abuse, be it violent or sexual in nature. Groups sometimes got pretty heavy, but I loved the cohesiveness of them and how enlightened the women became from the support of those around them. It was empowering as a therapist to see as light bulbs turned on in their heads so that change could take place.
After group, I had three private sessions. Two of my clients had been seeing me for quite some time and were progressing nicely. Karina was my newest client. Today would be our sixth session. She was a bisexual female who was raped by her uncle at a young age. She was extremely sensitive and was proving to be quite a challenge from a professional standpoint, but one I loved the thrill of nonetheless, even though something about her gave me a funny feeling inside, and not the ha-ha type. Hopefully I would figure out what it was.
Dr. Symons, the clinic psychiatrist, had her medicated on antidepressant and antipsychotic therapy. Unfortunately, I was only seeing minor changes. She still became easily agitated and argumentative over any suggestions I made.
“I don’t see how any of this will help.” Her famous mantra.
“You won’t see any changes in your life until you make them happen. I can’t make your fears and worries disappear. All I can do is help you to understand why you have them and make recommendations about how to change your thoughts and beh
aviors affected by them. But you have to want change to occur in your life.” My famous reply.
“I hate change.” She showed her disgust in her expression while twirling her hair. She slumped down in her chair, avoiding eye contact at all costs. I was used to this type of behavior from clients so it didn’t faze me whatsoever.
“I don’t think anyone really likes change. You’ve come so far from where you started out at the inpatient facility. All I’m asking is for you to make small changes, one at a time.” I continued to study her nonverbal behavior. Both of her feet vigorously bounced, she looked in every direction except mine, and she bit the inside of her lip. She was an absolute wreck, more than usual. “What’s going on, Karina?”
“I hate living in the halfway house.”
“It’s only temporary. Consider it a stepping stone to the next chapter.” I had no other options to give her. The team of therapists and Dr. Symons had already decided it was in her best interest to live there for the time being.
“I so want to trust you.” Her expression softened, her feet tapped lightly against the carpet, and she released her lip from the wrath of her teeth.
“I want you to trust yourself, Karina, and I know you have it in you.”
“You have a lot more faith in me than I do.”
This helpless attitude of hers wasn’t going to get her anywhere.
“For now, but I believe it’ll happen for you. Give it time.”
And so we continued on with our discussion. After a bit of hypnotherapy and relaxation, we were finished, and I was ready to call it a day. I drove straight home so I could continue working on my research. I had a deadline approaching and wasn’t quite on target.
My wrists ached from typing so much. I shook my hands out and rotated them in circles. An Advil would probably be a better idea since my thighs screamed at me for abusing them earlier.
The childproof cap on the bottle did its job well of securing it. The darn thing wouldn’t open.
My stomach gurgled loud enough to make me stop what I was doing. I realized I’d been so busy working I had barely eaten a thing all day.