Leather Bound

by Shanna Germain

  ‘Rar?’ Lily said, which always made me laugh.

  ‘Fine, rar. You’re right. You should probably be the one to talk to him.’

  ‘I’ll just show him my tattoos,’ she said.

  ‘That’s a great idea,’ I said.

  I closed my eyes. My head was thumping hard, a tiny headache making its appearance known behind my eye. We didn’t bring in enough money to pay double rent, but I wasn’t sure we had the money or the ability to start all over again either. Behind my eyelids, I saw Leather Bound slipping away.

  ‘What are we going to do, Lil?’

  ‘Stop turning down potential customers, for a start,’ she said, all business. ‘Call Davian up and tell him you’ll take the job.’

  ‘I already turned him down,’ I said.

  ‘Then turn him back up,’ she said.

  ‘I think he’s a little crazy. I don’t even think there is a book,’ I said. ‘There has to be another way.’

  Even as I said it, even as I considered taking on Davian’s job, I felt my heart speed up, knocking against my chest in its excitement at seeing him again. Stupid traitor, that lustful heart of mine.

  ‘Not that I can think of,’ Lily said.

  I sighed. No matter how crackpot crazy Davian might turn out to be, it turned out that we might need him. At the very least, we needed his money.

  ‘People suck sometimes,’ I said.

  ‘And not in the good way,’ Lily said.

  CHAPTER 5

  Stupid things make me feel stressed, I’ll admit it. When I was in college, if a professor scolded me or even gave me a disapproving look for something I’d done, or even something I hadn’t done, I would feel sick for weeks. A former boss telling me that she wanted to see me in her office would sometimes drive me to tears.

  My life was falling apart, someone wanted to steal my dream store from me, but the thing that really made me feel like throwing up was that idea of calling the man I’d just turned down and asking him to reconsider.

  The man that I’d said no to. The man that I still wasn’t entirely sure I hadn’t just watched cut the buttons off a woman and bring her – and, if I was going to be honest about it, myself – to orgasm. The man I couldn’t stop thinking, or even dreaming, about.

  His card was still on my desk. I picked it up and ran my thumb over it. Letterpress from the looks of it, and expensive. It had his name and a phone number, and beneath that, right in the centre, the shape of a keyhole pressed into the paper with black ink. The black keyhole was indented, the letters of his name and number raised.

  Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to dial the number on the card. I didn’t exhale until I heard the answering machine’s mechanical voice, asking me to please leave a message at the tone.

  I did just that, mostly stumbling all over myself to try and say what I needed to say without sounding like a complete fool. I’m pretty sure I didn’t succeed in the latter part, but somewhere in there I managed to convey the idea that if he was still looking for someone to find him his book, I’d like to talk with him about the possibility of such a thing. And then I hung up and tried not to throw up.

  I couldn’t put off calling Kyle any longer. It was time. Long past time. Especially now that I’d seen how many messages he’d left. I listened to all of them. It was far less penance than I deserved for just running away like a scared little rabbit.

  The first message was his usual sweet and funny self, still upbeat, laughing at himself a little and apologising for the way the proposal had slipped out.

  ‘Wow, I didn’t expect that,’ he said. ‘And I bet neither did you.’

  I could almost laugh with him at that point. But the others became more serious and sad, asking me to please call him, and saying he hadn’t meant to scare me off, and he would gladly take it back if I’d just let him know how I was feeling.

  ‘I am feeling like an asshole,’ I said aloud.

  I really was. He was a nice guy. What was I doing, avoiding him like that, just letting him hang in the wind? An asshole and a coward.

  I hit CALL BACK and put my ear to the phone.

  Kyle answered on the first ring.

  ‘Janine,’ he said, before I could say anything. ‘I was getting worried.’

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘I’m an asshole.’ I meant it more than I’d meant anything in my life.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Me too. I never should have thrown that on you like that.’

  Somehow it didn’t make me feel any better to hear him try and apologise when I was the one who’d run away. Still, at least he didn’t sound angry or hurt, just confused. God, he really was too nice. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t fall in love with him. I didn’t want to be one of those women, you know the ones, who only go after the men with a little miniature asshole inside them, but it seemed like I always turned away from the nice guys. Maybe Kyle was the right person for me, after all. If I gave him time, maybe love would just happen. It did that sometimes, right?

  ‘Janine?’ he said.

  ‘Sorry. I’m here. Can we talk? Would tonight be OK?’

  ‘I have a full tat tonight,’ he said, and I could tell that he’d thought about saying yes to my question despite that. ‘How about tomorrow night?’

  I swallowed hard. On one hand, it bought me a reprieve of a day. On the other, it stretched things out for both of us.

  ‘Tomorrow night’s good,’ I said.

  ‘Your place?’

  Did I want to do my place? I didn’t know. This wasn’t the kind of conversation to have in public, but I knew that if Kyle came to my house, we’d end up naked. Which was going to colour my decision in all the wrong ways and make things much harder.

  No, I definitely didn’t want to do my place.

  ‘How about Cream?’ I said.

  Kyle didn’t verbally agree, but he did hang up the phone with a quick goodbye, which I figured was close enough.

  * * *

  Just as I hung up on Kyle, my phone rang. Stupidly, since it was apparently my morning for stupidlies, I answered it without thinking.

  ‘Thanks for calling Leather Bound. This is –’

  ‘Janine. I know.’

  It was Davian. This time, unlike at L&L, I was sure it was him. Now that I’d heard that voice once, I would recognise it anywhere. It sent little electric sparks through my ear into the back of my brain. There must be some kind of pleasure centre back there, reserved just for men with sexy phone voices. Clearly mine was underused because with every word it sent a few more little zaps through my body.

  ‘Thanks for calling me back,’ I said.

  ‘My pleasure,’ he said.

  Through the phone, his voice sounded slightly deeper, just enough to give me a vision of him, calling from what I imagined to be his bedroom. Of course, in my imagination, he had nothing on, and was stretched out on the bed, his long legs muscled, one arm behind his head while he talked to me.

  I was only a little embarrassed at myself for how my body reacted to his voice. He made me want to put my hands on my desk and bend over for him. To go down on my knees surrounded by books and put my mouth on the length of his cock. Even though I’d never seen his cock. Crazy, this lust thing.

  He has the silliest-looking cock ever, I told myself. You don’t want it.

  That didn’t work. Now all I could think about was his cock, and what it actually might look like.

  ‘So, what changed your mind about taking me on?’ he asked.

  Did he always have to use language that was just bordering on suggestive without ever crossing the line? That was part of the seesaw effect he had, making me uncertain about the meaning of everything he said. Hell, he made me uncertain about the meaning of everything I said.

  ‘How do you know I changed my mind?’ I said. Oh, for the love of God, was this man’s presence, even his phone presence, always going to make me say such stupid things?

  ‘Because you said as much on your message,’ he said. The laughter in his voice was
evident. I wanted to crawl under my desk.

  I cleared my throat and continued.

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘If you’re still interested, I was hoping we could meet briefly, so I could gather some additional information.’

  ‘More than you could gather in, say, a conversation over the phone?’ His question took me aback.

  ‘We could do it over the phone,’ I admitted. ‘Sometimes it’s just better to talk face to face.’

  ‘So, what you’re saying is you want to see me?’

  Why did his voice always sound like it was suggesting at least eleven things and all of them dirty? Or was that just in my brain?

  B. E. Professional. Go.

  ‘I’m saying that I’d like to talk with you further about taking you on as a client,’ I said, all proud of myself for managing an even tone.

  ‘Nothing else?’ he asked.

  No, nothing else. Not at all that I thought I saw you slowly stripping a woman naked at the local sex shop. Not at all that I’d dreamed of you last night. In one particularly vivid one, I’d been down on my knees in front of him, his hands in my hair, guiding the tip of his cock over the point of my tongue again and again.

  ‘Nothing else,’ I said. ‘Could you meet some time this week?’

  ‘How’s tonight? I can stop by before you close the store.’

  ‘Tonight’s fine,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll be there with bells on,’ he said.

  There was no more. Just the click that told me he’d hung up. Well, what had I expected? An ‘Oh, by the way, I also forgot to tell you that I want you, Janine, and you should come over to my place where I’m naked, stroking myself, just waiting for you’?

  Well, yes, actually, that would have been nice. But even though I kept the phone pressed to my ear a little longer, I didn’t hear him say anything like that.

  * * *

  I was pretty sure Davian wasn’t going to show.

  Lily had left early for a date – ‘She’s a musician, with a guitar!’ she had crowed before she ran out the door – and it was almost closing time.

  I’d spent most of the last very slow hour trying to occupy my thoughts by flipping through a naughty Victorian finger-puppet book. It showed you how to hold your hand so it came through the cut-outs. Your fingers became legs. The curve of your fist became a pair of buttocks. Some instructions even recommended that you squeeze your hand to ‘create a sense of movement’. It was one of my favourite books, and I was always surprised that no one bought it.

  I had two fingers through one of the cut-outs, creating a Victorian woman’s up-skirt image, when I heard the front door open. I slipped the book back into its proper place and stepped out from behind the velvet curtain.

  And stopped short. Davian was dressed in a grey wool coat, wooden toggles up the front. Dark slacks. Same briefcase. A pair of chocolate-brown glasses that matched his eyes so perfectly it almost made me want to cry.

  He was probably one of those people, like Lil, who could put that look together in five minutes. Even as I hated him a little for that, I also wanted him. So fiercely that I was forced to capture Webster as he walked by, just to have something safe in my hands. Or semi-safe. Webster, unused to being snatched up by his owner, wriggled in my grasp, demanding an end to the indignity.

  ‘Thanks for coming by,’ I said, holding the cat between us like some kind of spine-bending, claw-wielding force field. ‘Do you want to come back to the office?’ I said, and instantly regretted it. I didn’t trust myself to behave around him. At least, out here, I was mostly safe.

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t stay,’ he said. ‘I’m running late. I wanted to see you though.’

  He let that hang in the air for a moment.

  ‘And I have something that should help you get started on your search. Well, two things.’

  He reached into his briefcase. I watched that beautiful hand enter the folds of polished leather and I swear the space between my legs practically sighed with want. He pulled out an envelope and held it out to me.

  I had to put Webster down in order to take it.

  Davian didn’t let go.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ he asked. ‘I don’t want you to take on this job if you’re unsure.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m not sure about anything right now.’

  I kept my hand on the envelope, waiting. Leather Bound needed the money. And, if nothing else, having something to sink my teeth into, something complicated and confusing, would keep my mind off Kyle and the rent issues and whatever else the world seemed determined to throw at me.

  I took the envelope as he released it, careful not to touch his hand, careful to not even brush one tiny piece of his skin. I couldn’t imagine how I’d shaken his hand the first time I’d met him, how I’d actually touched the man and hadn’t pushed myself all over him with wanting.

  Once the envelope was safely in my grasp and away from his potential touch, I looked inside. A cheque, the amount of which instantly made my breath come a little easier. And two tickets.

  ‘That’s more than my normal rate,’ I said.

  ‘This is clearly more than your normal job,’ he said.

  Any other time, I might have argued with him. But not this time.

  I pulled out the tickets. On one side, they were printed with an image of a woman in cat ears, swirling her long, striped tail. The cat woman was naked except for her appendages. So naked that I thought I caught a glimpse of a clit-piercing in the image. A tattoo across her bare stomach read THE CAT HOUSE.

  I looked at him in confusion.

  ‘The Cat House?’ I said.

  ‘It’s a dance place.’

  ‘A strip club.’ I wasn’t against strip clubs. In fact, I liked them, liked sitting in the dark, watching. But I’d definitely never been to a strip club as part of my job before. ‘Usually I just sit at my desk and do google searches,’ I said. ‘Which is kind of the same thing now that I say that.’

  ‘It’s not a strip club,’ he said. ‘At least not as you know it. But this is the woman you’ll want to talk to.’ He pointed at the woman on the ticket. She had eyes so bright blue it reminded me of kittens when they’re still at that stumbling-around stage.

  ‘Kitty,’ he said, as if giving voice to my thoughts.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Her stage name is Kitty.’

  ‘Kitty,’ I repeated. Unimaginative name. So many good names in the world, and so often people pick boring ones.

  ‘It’s not very original,’ he said as if he’d heard me yet again. ‘But she manages to own it.’

  Be still my heart.

  ‘What is this for again?’ I asked. Kitty and the Cat House aside, I had no idea how this was going to help me find anything.

  ‘In order to find the book, you’re going to need to become part of the club. And in order to get into the club, you’re going to need to go through initiation. That means interacting with Kitty.’

  ‘There are two tickets here,’ I said. ‘Does that mean you think you’re coming with me?’

  I didn’t know if I wanted the answer to be yes or no.

  It was no.

  ‘As much as I’d like to,’ he started, drawing a slow gaze over my body in a way that made me hot and cold all at the same time, ‘I’m afraid I wouldn’t be welcome. Take someone you like. Not Lily, though. Kitty likes redheads. I’m afraid you won’t get a word in edgewise if you show up with her on your arm.’

  ‘Not welcome,’ I echoed. What did that even mean? ‘Davian, is there more to this than you’re telling me, anything else I should know?’

  ‘Isn’t there always?’ he asked. ‘Isn’t that how stories work best?’

  It was that line that caught me. I’m a sucker for boys with books. Men who read. Men who understand stories. It wasn’t bad enough that he was complete and total eye candy. He had to keep throwing book stuff at me. As if he knew without even asking where my secret love and lust sat in the space of my chest.

  Stil
l I had to ask. ‘Right. But there’s nothing that’s likely to end up with me getting, I don’t know, killed? Injured? Strung up by the wrists?’

  His brow went up again, the almost hint of a grin, wolfish and wanting.

  That wasn’t what I meant, that last one. I was thinking more torture and less bondage. Well, I had been thinking more torture. Now I was thinking about him holding my wrists tight in his hands, circling them with strips of leather.

  He caught hold of his smile before it had a chance to fully bloom, and tightened his lips back to seriousness. ‘No,’ he said. ‘But if that changes, I would certainly let you know.’

  Oh, great.

  ‘There’s no time, no date, no address,’ I said. ‘How do I know where to go? Or when?’

  ‘Tomorrow night, ten o’clock,’ he said.

  ‘Tomorrow?’ Gods, was I going to repeat everything he said? Clearly I was.

  ‘Is that bad for you?’ he asked.

  I was supposed to meet Kyle at eight. The show was at ten. If things went poorly between Kyle and me, I’d go and see Kitty by myself. If they went well – although I wasn’t sure what that meant right now – Kyle might want to go with me. He liked pretty women doing artistic things, especially when they were naked. As he’d once said, ‘Who in the whole world doesn’t like boobs?’

  ‘Tomorrow’s perfect,’ I said. ‘Just tell me where.’

  ‘That,’ he said, ‘is something of a test.’

  ‘A test.’ Yes, Janine, you’ve shown him how well you can play the repeat-after-me game. Say something original now, please.

  But nothing would come.

  Tucking his finger beneath my chin, Davian raised my face until I looked him in the eye. The pressure of his finger made my pulse go wild, a thumping beat of want that swam in my ears.

  ‘Yes?’ he said.

  What was I saying yes to? It didn’t matter.

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  I barely got the word out before he leaned in and kissed me.

  * * *

  It was a kiss unlike any other I’d had. His closeness threw my balance off, my body wanting nothing more than to lean into him as hard and fast as I could, my mind trying to back off from something so unexpected. Thankfully, I didn’t fall over in my attempt to reconcile the two parts of me.