Teach Me

by Cate Bellerose

  “I know, I know. I’ll give her such a hard time that she’ll be out before you can say hostage situation.”

  “Man, I hope so. For her sake.”

  Chapter 4

  Amber

  Nine sharp, he’d said, like he was my boss. So what if he’s actually done this before?

  I yawn. Nine’s practically in the middle of the night, as far as I’m concerned. Alright, I exaggerate, but isn’t that supposed to be one of the perks of working on my own? Set my own hours. Take the assignments I want. So much for that. Still, I’m here. Physically, at least. Stifling another yawn, I head up the walk to his front door.

  He lives on the nice side of town. Not an area I’m in very often. Eric’s making decent money, that’s for sure. Why’s this contract’s so important to him, then? Debt, maybe? Not my problem. Just want to get this job done.

  I check myself quickly, like it’s a date. God, this is dumb. I went sensible, with jeans and a short-sleeved blouse, but gotta admit, I did pick my hip-huggiest jeans on purpose. And maybe I don’t usually leave that extra shirt button unbuttoned. Not like he’ll even notice. He’s babysitting, after all. I roll my eyes.

  The door bell’s loud, high pitched and annoying. I let go almost immediately and wait. And wait. I’m about to push again when he finally opens the door, looking like he just rolled out of bed.

  Not that I mind. His loose pajama pants look comfortable, but they’re all he’s wearing. I knew he was strong, but I really hadn’t realized how ripped he was under his leathers. Not bulked up like a bodybuilder or anything, but toned and strong. Sleek and powerful.

  Tattoos that were hidden by his jacket yesterday wind their way around his forearms. Another wraps around his ribcage, a stalking panther with huge menacing teeth. I imagine tracing its outline with my fingers.

  A thin covering of curly dark hair covers his wide pecs and narrows to a trail across his tight abs before disappearing into his pajama pants. The urge to follow that trail to its end is strong. Fuck. Get it together, Amber. Not a date.

  “Amber?” He blinks, squinting at the sunlight. “What are you doing here?”

  “You said nine o’clock, so here I am. Don’t tell me I could’ve slept in.”

  “Seriously? I said that?” He blinks again, and yawns. “What the fuck did I do that for? If I ever say that again, slap me, alright?” He steps aside to let me in.

  This is the guy that wouldn’t work with me yesterday? “Deal.” Only happy to. I enter.

  “Shoes off here. Living room’s over there. I’ll get some coffee. You want some?”

  “Totally. I think I’m gonna need it.”

  His place is nice. Neat. For a guy, anyway. The living room’s in the back of the house with big windows that open into a sheltered backyard, surrounded by tall hedges. Thick area rugs protect the floors from the furniture. Pictures of what I assume are family and motorcycles hang on the walls. I’m sensing a theme.

  He returns with two steaming cups and sets them on the glass coffee table. He’s put a shirt on, which is too bad. Probably best that I’m not too distracted while we work, though. Plopping into a large leather couch, he pats the seat next to him.

  “This isn’t some ploy to get me onto your couch, is it?” I arch my eyebrow.

  “Only in getting you to work. My time’s valuable. Throw away yours, if you want, but while you’re here, we get this shit done.”

  Right. Back to business. What did I expect?

  The rest of the day is tedious. Testing, editing, arguing. Mostly arguing. Merging our designs is more work than I expected. We can’t agree on anything. Actually, he won’t agree on anything. Even when I give in to his opinion, he changes his mind. Starting to wonder if he’s crazy.

  Part of being an artist, I guess. He said something about a graphics design background. He knows that part of it down pat. Sexy, sleek, beautiful designs, that are totally non-functional. It’s like he’s never considered that someone has to use this thing. I think he outsourced his code to monkeys.

  Seriously.

  That bad.

  On top of that, everything I do goes against his artiste sensibilities. Drives me nuts. It’s like beating my head against a wall.

  He’s frustrated, too. His jaw keeps clenching, like he’s just holding in a nasty outburst. Things have to look just so, they have to express the darkness, the vulnerability, the power, the yada yada yada. It’s obvious I’m not getting this stuff at all, but I know the things he wants in there are going to make the site totally bog down. What’s the point of a cool site if you have to wait thirty seconds for it to do anything?

  It’s getting dark out when he pushes the laptop away, making it skid over the glass surface until the rubber feet stop it. “Okay, that’s it. We need a break. I’m sure you know your shit, but we’re going to kill each other in a sec. You’ve got to be the most stubborn woman I’ve met in my life.”

  “Thank you.”

  He rolls his eyes. “How did you end up bidding for a BDSM site, anyway? You don’t know anything about it. You’re not even interested. I don’t get it.” Eric cradles the back of his head in his hands and leans back, his powerful chest stretching his t-shirt tight. How can a guy that handsome be so annoying?

  “It’s hard to get a lead when you’re starting out. My roommate’s into BDSM, and she heard about the job from someone at the club she goes to. Not Lotus, but some other place. Are there a lot of these in town? I wouldn’t even have known if she didn’t tell me.”

  “Only one that matters, and to be honest, it’s not this one.”

  “So what’s it about?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This BDSM stuff. My roommate likes it. You like it. There are whole clubs for it. What makes it so fun? Sounds kinda scary to me.”

  He leans in, his eyes sparkling. “It is scary. Or can be. That’s part of the excitement. Pushing boundaries. Playing with fire. Living in the moment.”

  The intensity of his answer sends goosebumps crawling up my arms.

  “What do you do? Whips and chains? Slave girls in leather bikinis? Big men in black hoods? Is that it?”

  Eric laughs. “It is for some.”

  “What about for you? Or is that too personal? Sorry, I don’t know squat about this.”

  He makes a point of eyeing me, sizing me up. “I think you’d make a good slave girl. Did you bring your bikini?”

  I roll my eyes, then whack him on the arm.

  “Whoa, ease up, Sunshine. Only joking.” His laugh’s infectious.

  “I’m not your slave girl. Don’t mess with me, buddy.” I give him my sternest look for all of two or three seconds before I can’t keep my face straight.

  He looks thoughtful for a moment. “You know what? We’re going on a field trip.”

  “Huh?”

  “We’ve worked enough for today. Another cup of coffee and we’ll both be so neurotic that we’ll tear each other apart. You want to learn about this stuff? I’ll teach you.”

  “Where?” I get up, though. It’s like a whole other side of him. He’s gone from grumpy and condescending to being eager like a kid going to an amusement park. He makes me want to go.

  “To a BDSM club. Come on!” He roots through a closet, pulls out a helmet and throws it at me. “Here, see if this fits.”

  By the time I’ve caught it, he’s already putting on his leather jacket and pulling on his own helmet. At least I’m not wearing a skirt today. I tighten my chinstrap and chase after him as he leaves.

  “I’ll go, but I’m still not wearing a bikini.”

  “That’s fine. Naked’s better anyway.”

  I whack him a good one on the arm while I slide into the seat behind him. “Jerk.”

  I barely get a grip around him before he gasses and peels out of his driveway with a roar. God, I love those vibrations.

  Chapter 5

  Eric

  Goddamnit. I’m just digging myself deeper. She’s supposed to be gone by
now. Decided I’m an asshole and left, ready to quit the job in the morning. Not behind me on my bike, her soft thighs against my hips, her tits pressing against my back. Jesus.

  She’s stubborn. I’ll give her that. Didn’t even think I liked that so much, but it suits her. Probably because she’s usually right. It’s not easy to keep coming up with counter arguments when they just sound dumber and dumber, or plain crazy. Instead of me chasing her off, she’s bullying me into making a solid website. Typical.

  I still need to find a way to drive her off, but fuck if I want to. She’s pretty. Smart. Sweet when she’s not chewing me out. I’ll chase her off tomorrow. Right now, her hands just feel too perfect on my waist.

  Paul’s going to rip me a new one.

  The club’s busy, but it always is this time of night. Best BDSM club in town, and I’ve tried them all. Keep coming back here. Best toys, best crowd and the best drinks. Good music too, rolling deep and sexy.

  The doorman’s the biggest guy I know, which probably helps keep things under control. Caleb. Nice guy. We grab drinks together sometimes. We nod in recognition as I push Amber ahead of me into the lion’s den. Lets me watch her ass wiggle.

  She’s like Alice in Wonderland, gawking at everything and everyone. There’s a lot to take in; I get that. Bright lights, loud music, people dressed in everything from gimp suits to absolutely nothing. Collars and leashes, leather and latex, cuffs and chains, almost anything goes so long as it’s consensual. Several tough guys in black staff t-shirts that threaten to split around their bulging muscles make sure it stays that way. Not that I see trouble here very often.

  “Amber.” I raise my voice over the music. She looks completely lost. “Amber!”

  She hears me the second time. “This is crazy!”

  It makes me laugh. “Good crazy, or bad crazy?”

  “I don’t even know.” She tries to look at everything at once, her head swiveling.

  “Come on, let me show you around.” I give her my hand, and she clings to it like a lifeline. Her hand’s small in mine.

  Leading the way across the dance floor, I bring her to the play area in the back, where the music is quieter and the real kink happens. If I thought her eyes were wide before, they’re huge now.

  To our right, a half naked girl locked into a set of wooden stocks is getting the crop, crying out with every strike. On the left, a tall blond guy in leathers is on his knees, licking the shiny boot of his older mistress while she makes him beg for the privilege. Around them, people stand and watch, but we’re heading deeper, to the back rooms. Want to find something that suits my style better.

  The crowd’s thick in the middle of the room, watching a couple that we can’t see for all the people. Amber leans in. “What’s going on there?”

  “Not sure, but my guess is it’s Gabe and his fiancee. He owns the club. They’re the most popular couple here. They’re a little rough for a first time experience, though.”

  As if to emphasize it, a ragged woman’s voice sounds from the center of the crowd. “You hit like a little girl!” A meaty smack of wood on flesh follows immediately, making Amber jump. A paddle, maybe? The voice moans and sobs at once, then strengthens for another taunt. “Told ya.” Another smack.

  Amber’s face blanches.

  “Don’t worry, no one’s going to hit you. I promise.” I try to smile reassuringly. “Unless you want them to, of course.”

  Amber blinks, looking at me like I’m an idiot.

  “Right. This way.” Time to move on.

  With my hand at the small of her back, I lead her down the corridor with the viewing booths.

  The play rooms are clever. They can be private if the players want, but if they want to show off instead, they can hit a switch and open the shutters to small viewing rooms, big enough for two, or maybe three really good friends. Red and green lights over the doors show if the viewing rooms are busy or available.

  Picking a green one randomly, I peek in to see what kind of action’s in there. Knife play. I back out before Amber follows me in. “We’ll try a different one.” Not a starter room.

  The next door’s better. I’ve seen this couple before, and they’re perfect. Kinky, but not too extreme. And just the kind of stuff I enjoy. I tug at Amber’s wrist. “In here.”

  “What’s in h... oh.” She goes quiet at the scene in front of us, staring wide-eyed.

  “Sssh. Watch. BDSM is a pretty broad label, but this couple tends to lean the same way I do.”

  “You’ve watched them before?”

  Does she want me to deny it? “A couple of times. When I’m in the mood.”

  “Perv.” Her brow arches, but a little grin gives her away.

  “Guilty as charged. I don’t see you running out.” Quite the opposite, if I’m reading her flushed cheeks correctly.

  “Of course not. You brought me here. This is... research.” She tears her eyes from the scene for a second. “Think the cover charge is tax deductible?”

  “You didn’t pay the cover charge.”

  “Oh right. You should totally deduct it.”

  “Forget about work and just watch.”

  We sit in the leather love seat, taking in the scene. I’m not broad like Caleb, but I have to admit I flex a bit, so I can sit flush against her. It’s like I’m back in high school, but I can’t help it. Either she doesn’t mind, or she’s so caught up in what’s happening in front of her that she doesn’t notice.

  I like this couple. They’re sexy. He’s a lot older, but they work well together. He’s wearing a suit. She’s naked, tied spread eagle on a table. Well, almost tied. He’s just putting the finishing touches on her second wrist. Slow, regular movements, coil after coil wrapping around her forearm. A lot more than he needs, but it looks really good. He cinches it off, leaving her totally helpless. She tests her bonds, but it’s for show. She knows there’s no way out.

  Sexy as they are, I’ve seen the couple before, and right now Amber’s a lot more interesting, even fully dressed. She’s hardly blinking, riveted, watching the scene play out. Gives me a chance to watch her. Run my eyes along her curves. Tits that might even spill over my big handfuls. Hips I can grab on to. I feel like I barely know her, and still she gets me so hard.

  She’s lost in the moment, her mouth a little bit open and her chest rising and falling quickly. I was worried this would be too much for her, but she seems okay. At least she’s not running away screaming. That’s something.

  “See the EMT shears?” I point at a pair of hooked scissors lying on the table, using the motion as an excuse to get even closer as I align my arm with her sight. “If anything happens, her safeword, a fire, anything, he can cut her loose in seconds. They’re super sharp, but with protective edges, so they’ll only cut the rope. If they’re used, they get tossed, just in case they dulled. Safety is a big thing when we play.” Amber nods.

  The man blindfolds the girl with a narrow silk scarf. Like the rope, he loops it several times around her eyes, making sure no light gets in. The girl’s breasts rise and fall regularly with her breathing, The real fun’s about to begin.

  Amber’s wiggling a little in her seat. Getting into it already? Or maybe a subtle hint for me to back off. I’m not subtle like that, though, so I stay. I like a little wiggle.

  Her voice is a whisper. “How does it work? She can’t do anything. What does he get out of it?”

  “Watch. He’s doing it for both of them. She loves feeling helpless, and he loves making her feel that way. It works for them.”

  “Do they fuck?” Her legs squeeze together like she’s thinking about it.

  I blink, startled by her bluntness. “Er... I’m sure they do, but probably not here. I dunno. Wait and see.”

  The man picks up a feather from the table. Amber draws a sharp breath. “He’s not going to tickle her, is he? That’s torture.”

  “I don’t think so, but some like it.”

  Amber scoffs.

  The man draws the feathe
r lightly across the girl’s skin. I can see her shiver from here. He swirls it up her thigh, slowly across her stomach and up to her breasts, making a small loop around each tight nipple. She arches her back, pressing her chest up, showing her need. Fuck, it puts me in the mood to play.

  Amber’s breath is coming faster and she’s leaning forward. Her eyes are fixed on the couple. Her ass is grinding in her seat. I want to put my arms around her, but I don’t want to fuck this up.

  Shit, I shouldn’t even be here with her, but I can’t find it in me to care right now. “Hot, isn’t it?” I whisper it close to her ear.

  She starts. “It’s... interesting. Why? This isn’t some elaborate plan to get in my pants, is it?”

  It didn’t start that way, but the idea’s growing on me. Probably not what she wants to hear, though. “I don’t think they’d fit me. What’s your waist?”

  “Dork.”

  I risk putting my hand on the armrest on the other side of her. When I lean forward, it touches my arm against her back. She stiffens, but doesn’t object.

  “Give me your wrists.”

  “What?” Amber tears her gaze away from the couple for a second, throwing me an anxious look.

  “Just giving you a taste. No ropes, or blindfolds. Just me. Imagine you’re her. You want to understand this, right?”

  “Oh, come on, even I can come up with better lines than that.” Her teasing sounds a little flat. She’s not paying attention to me, her gaze back on the couple.

  I hate being ignored. “Your wrists. Now.” I hiss it, right into her ear.

  She draws a breath and holds it. Then she gives me her wrists, slowly, crossing them over the small of her back. “Like this?”

  I capture them in my hand, holding them firmly. She struggles a bit, but gives up, just as she’d seen the other girl do. Her pulse pounds through her veins, little thumps brushing against my fingers. Her ass is still wiggling, like she can’t get comfortable. Or maybe there’s an ache she can’t quite relieve.