by Hannah Ford
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Then I’ll have something sent over. I’ll be working late tonight, but I’ll pick you up at eight pm. Please be ready.”
“I will,” I said.
There was a pause, and my heart sped up for a moment, thinking he might tell me he loved me. Not just that he was falling in love with me, but that he actually did, truly love me.
But all he said was, “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Okay,” I said, trying hard to keep the disappointment out of my voice. “I’ll see you tonight.”
We hung up and I let out the breath I’d been holding. Goosebumps had broken out all over my body. I had a feeling tonight was going to be intense. And I was beginning to wonder if perhaps Noah had been right about me not being ready for Force
***
The food Noah ordered for me arrived about an hour later -- fresh fruit salad, a turkey and sliced brie sandwich on multigrain bread, and chunky organic vegetable soup.
It was delicious.
The outfit he was sending over, however, didn’t arrive until around seven.
By then, I’d showered, done my make-up, and curled my hair into soft waves around my shoulders. I was sitting in a robe in the living room, flipping through channels on the TV and trying not to freak out, when the doorbell rang.
When I answered it, no one was there.
There was a black box wrapped with a red ribbon sitting in the hallway.
I reached down and picked it up, saying a silent prayer that whatever was inside would fit me. There was no time to get anything else, and it would be a severe level of humiliation to have to admit to Noah that the outfit he’d wanted to see me in was too small, or even worse, just simply unflattering.
I carried the box into the bedroom and set it down on the bed.
For a moment, I just stared at it.
There was a cream-colored envelope stuck underneath the red ribbon, and I reached down and pulled it out. My name was written across the front in swirling silver letters. I slid my finger under the flap of the envelope. The paper was a heavy bond, and felt smooth and creamy in my hands.
Charlotte- -
Can’t wait for tonight.
~N
It wasn’t Noah’s handwriting. Obviously. I hadn’t expected him to run down to a store and actually hand pick something. He was at work. He was busy, he had clients and meetings and all kinds of prior commitments.
But something about a shop assistant writing a note for a box that contained an outfit I was supposed to wear to a BDSM club seemed a little impersonal. It was fine, nothing to get upset about, really, unless I wanted to seem like a spoiled child. But it was just that little bit of distance that was always there with Noah, that little bit of separation that was always smacking me in the face – no matter what, he was always holding me at arms length.
I sighed and opened the box, holding my breath in anticipation as I pushed away layers of white tissue paper. The box was bigger than it needed to be – the tissue was covering what seemed like just a scrap of material.
At first, I was sure the outfit had been ripped or torn, and that I was going to have to return it. The material seemed shredded almost.
But when I got it out of the box, I realized it wasn’t shredded at all. It was a dress -- a body hugging black dress with tears all the way down the front, right across the middle.
My heart sped up. There was no way Noah could expect me to wear something like this. My breasts were way too big to wear a dress like this – the material would hardly be covering me, and I was too tall for the length. I’d be lucky if it covered my ass.
There was a silky drawstring bag still inside the box, and I pulled it out, hoping it was some kind of alternate outfit. Perhaps Noah knew he’d been pushing the envelope with this one, and so he’d instructed the shop assistant to put in an extra, less revealing option.
But the bag was filled with a compliment to the dress—sheer black thigh highs, a garter belt, and the tiniest g-string I’d ever seen. My pulse raced, thinking about putting this on, about wearing it in front of anyone except Noah. I hadn’t worn lingerie for anyone except my college boyfriend, and even then it had only been once or twice. I’d change into it in the bathroom quickly, then slip under the covers and shut the lights off before he had a chance to see me.
The thought of wearing these things to a club, in front of a crowd of people…I reached for my phone and thought about calling Noah, telling him there was no way I could wear this out. But I could already imagine the conversation. He would tell me I wasn’t ready for Force, that we could do it another time, that he wanted me to be comfortable.
And if he didn’t take me to Force, I wouldn’t be able to look for Audi James.
So I gathered up the clothes along with all of my courage, and headed for the bathroom to try them on.
***
Ten minutes later, I stared at myself in the mirror.
The dress clung to my curves, the rips down the middle showing off my black lace push up bra and ample cleavage. The bottom of the dress clung to my ass and hips, the fabric stopping mid-thigh. If I bent over even a little bit, or if the dress pulled up even a centimeter, you could see the thin straps of my garter belt where they attached to my thigh-high stockings.
My hair was wild around my shoulders, the apples of my cheeks pink, my skin flush with excitement. I lined my lips with a red lipstick and surveyed myself in the mirror critically. I didn’t look bad, exactly. It was just… I didn’t like being on display like this. I felt like every flaw was magnified. Everything I was self-conscious about was out there for the world to see.
I wasn’t used to this. Even in college, when girls were going out in tight tank tops and short shorts, or halters and jeans, I was never that comfortable with my body. The craziest I ever got was a V-neck t-shirt. My instinct was to grab a sweater and wrap it around myself so that I’d have something to cover myself with at the club.
From down the hall, I heard the sound of the door opening, and footsteps echoing across the kitchen floor.
“Charlotte?” Noah called. “Are you here?”
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. He’d picked out the outfit, and yet… I was still afraid I wasn’t going to be enough for him. How could I be? I’d seen the looks women gave him -- everyone from the receptionist at the police station to the hostess at the restaurant to random, gorgeous women on the street. Noah was beautiful, his body absolutely perfect. It was as if God had carved him out of stone, making every line and curve and muscle flawless. It was intimidating to feel so exposed, even more so to do it in front of someone who was so undeniably sexy.
I slipped my feet into the black stilettos that had been nestled in the box beneath the tissue paper. They fit my feet perfectly, but the heel was so skinny I was sure it was going to snap under my weight. But it didn’t. In fact, the shoes felt very sturdy under me, and they lengthened my legs and made my waist look tinier.
I walked toward the kitchen, my hands shaking, hoping Noah would find me acceptable.
When I got there, he was at the counter, his tie loosened around his neck and his sleeves rolled up. He was going through a stack of envelopes, flipping though them rapidly. He took my breath away, that’s how gorgeous he was. Even doing something as mundane as going through the mail, he was beautiful.
He didn’t look up at first, and I jutted my chin into the air and waited.
When he finally turned, his jaw went slack.
“Holy shit,” he muttered.
“Is it okay?” I asked, pulling at the bottom of the dress self-consciously.
He crossed the kitchen in two long strides, took my hands in his and looked me up and down. His eyes lingered on my body, taking in every inch of exposed skin. “Fuck,” he said. “How the hell am I going to last until we get to the club? I need to have you right here.”
He moved his hands up my arms until he was touching my face, then pulled me close and kissed me. His kiss wa
s soft as first, but it deepened in intensity, his tongue moving past my lips. Shivers of anticipation shimmied through me as he pressed his body against mine.
Noah pulled back and looked at me, the pad of his thumb grazing my lower lip. “How can I let you go out looking like this?” he asked. “Every man in that club is going to want you.”
“I doubt that.” My cheeks warmed, and for the first time in my entire life, I felt beautiful. Not just that feeling you got when you felt like you looked good, when your makeup was done and you were wearing a new outfit or had a new haircut.
No, this was different. I felt beautiful. I felt like Noah thought I was beautiful, like he really did see me as the sexiest women alive. It didn’t matter that my stomach wasn’t flat or that my breasts were too large, or that my nose was a tiny bit crooked.
In this moment, I could tell Noah thought I was gorgeous. And that made me feel like it was true.
“There’s just one thing… “ he breathed into my ear. His breath tickled my skin, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up and goose bumps break out on my arms. His tone was casual, but his voice was low, raspy, laced with mischief.
“What?” I asked warily. Whatever this one thing was, I knew I might not like it. With Noah, nothing was ever that simple.
“You’re wearing it wrong.” His hands reached up and grabbed the top of my dress, pulling it all the way down until it was at my waist.
He reached his hands behind me and slowly, almost excruciatingly so, began unhooking my bra. At first, I thought he was going to make good on his promise and have his way with me before we even got to the club.
But then I figured out what he was doing – he expected me to wear this dress, with the tears up the middle, with no bra on underneath.
“Noah,” I said, grabbing the cups of my bra and holding them to my breasts.
“Shhh,” he said, taking my arms and gently placing them back down at my sides. He carefully slid my bra off, until I was standing there with my breasts completely exposed. Noah took a moment before replacing my dress, drinking me in with his eyes. My nipples hardened under his gaze.
“Shit,” he said, his breathing getting faster. “Do you know how hard it is not to fuck you right here?” His hand reached out and caressed my shoulder, then continued down my arm, his thumb grazing my breast so softly I almost wasn’t sure he was actually touching me.
“Noah,” I said, swallowing hard. “I can’t –”
“Shh,” he said again, his finger moving to my lips. He reached down and pulled my dress back up slowly, until I was covered again, only this time, without a bra.
If I’d felt exposed before, it was a million times worse now. I could feel the air on my skin, through the rips in my dress, could feel my breasts straining against the material.
“Noah,” I said again, reaching for my bra. “I really don’t –”
He grabbed my hand, his grip tightening around my wrist. He leaned in again, pushing his body into mine. “You are so beautiful,” he said, his hold on me becoming stronger, “and you’ll wear what I say.” His voice was husky now, commanding. He pulled back and looked me in the eye. “Do you understand?”
I nodded.
He dropped my hand and kissed me softly on the lips. “Come on. The car is waiting.”
***
I was quiet in the back of the car as we drove to Force.
I was nervous.
Nervous about going to this club.
Nervous about looking for Audi James.
Nervous about hiding something from Noah.
How could I expect him to tell me things, to let me in, if I wasn’t willing to do the same? But he doesn’t let you in, I told myself. And he is hiding things from you – that woman who was out on his terrace, the way he refuses to talk about his case, to even help his defense in any way.
Noah had secrets. Lots of them.
And he was so damn protective with such a need to control everything. If I told him about the phone call, he wouldn’t take me to Force.
And I knew, deep down, there was a reason this anonymous caller had called me and not someone else. Whoever it was could have called Noah, or Professor Worthington, or Josh. But for some reason, they’d singled me out.
I wasn’t sure what that meant. But I knew I needed to make sure I did everything I could to help Noah. And my instinct was telling me that right now, I needed to go to Force. And I needed to find Audi James.
Noah reached out and took my hand. “Why so serious?” he asked.
I shrugged. “No reason.”
“We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready, Charlotte.”
“I’m ready.”
His fingers intertwined with mine, and I felt myself instantly relax. I marveled at how someone who was obviously hiding so many things could make me feel so safe.
We didn’t talk for the rest of the drive. But it didn’t matter – somehow it was enough to just have him holding my hand. His touch was more powerful than any words he could have said.
When the car finally came to a stop, Noah got out first, then held his hand out to me.
I stepped out, steadying myself on my stilettos and glanced around.
We were on a short side street, one that was empty and deserted. Usually, even on the side streets of the city, something would be happening. There would be delis or bodegas or apartments, delivery trucks or people bustling by as they cut through to the main roads. But here there were just two huge brick buildings, one on each side of the street. There was no sign of the club anywhere.
“Where is it?” I asked, looking around. The way people talked about Force, I’d expected music filtering out onto the street, people dressed in costumes waiting in a long line outside, bouncers and security guards flanking the doors.
But there was none of that.
Just Noah and I, standing in the street.
“Here,” Noah said, pointing to a brick door shaped like a half-circle that blended in with the building. On the bottom of the door, in tiny little stenciled letters were the words FORCE. You could barely see them, they were so small and faded.
“Wow,” I said sarcastically. “They’ve really spared no expense.”
The side of Noah’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. He gave me a long, appraising look. I saw a flash of doubt move over his face – it was subtle, and it didn’t last long, but it was definitely there.
“Noah,” I said, taking his hand and squeezing it. “I want to be here with you more than anything.”
“Say that after we go inside,” he said.
He opened the door.
A long hallway stretched in front of us, the walls painted a dark cranberry color. The floor was black and concrete. There were doors leading off the hallway, but everything was silent. There were no sounds coming from anywhere.
I swallowed, suddenly nervous. Where were all the people, the sex, the whips and chains and ropes?
Noah’s hand tightened around mine as he began leading me down the hallway. Lamps hung down from the ceiling, shedding a dim industrial light over everything. The faint smell of must and smoke permeated the air.
When we reached the end of the hallway, the corridor forked off into three different tunnels – one tunnel was right in front of us, one was to our left, and one was to our right. All of them were lit with the same dim flickering light, the walls painted in a swirling abstract pattern of black and blood red that made me feel dizzy. As we got closer, the sound of something scurrying came out of tunnel to the right. A man in a gimp suit came skittering by, crawling on his hands and knees as he passed by.
I almost screamed, not because he was in a gimp suit, but because it was so shocking and surprising to have the still, almost eerie quiet broken so suddenly.
Noah turned and led me down the hallway to the far left, and I was relieved that we weren’t going down the hall the gimp had just come from.
There were doors off this hall too, and the hall became twistier, branching off
into what seemed like a million different directions. Noah took turn after turn, and I had the sensation of being led further underground, almost like the floor was angled downward.
I wanted to ask him where we were going, where he was taking me, but I forced myself to trust.
After what seemed like forever, I finally heard the distant sound of music, a slow sensuous rhythm that seemed to reverberate off the walls. In the distance, I could see a clearing, a huge room with voices and a spotlight that seemed to be moving lazily over the crowd.
As we got closer, one of the doors off the hall opened and a man wearing leather chaps and holding a whip came walking out, followed by a line of girls, their hands shackled together as they walked single file.
I watched them as they passed – each of them was dressed in a gold loincloth with tiny gold tassels over their nipples and nothing else. Their skin had a translucent look to it, and their bodies glittered under the lights. All of them wore matching gold eye shadow and dark eyeliner.
I studied their faces as they went by, but their expressions were blank.
“Where are they going?” I whispered to Noah, afraid that if I talked too loud, I’d be forced to join them.
Noah glanced over, disinterested, like a line of almost-naked handcuffed women was an every day occurrence. “To the auction,” he said matter-of-factly.
“They’re getting auctioned off?”
“Yes.” He looked at me with amusement. “Would you like to join them?”
I shook my head no quickly, and Noah laughed. “Come on,” he said. “We’re almost there.”
He pulled me toward the music, and once we were in the main room, I breathed a sigh of relief, happy to be away from the winding corridors that felt like a basement maze.
There was a built man with a mustache sitting at the front of the open doorway, and he stood up when he saw us. His head was freshly shaved, his arms a sleeve of tattoos. When he saw Noah, he nodded and let him pass into the room.
It was filled with people, men and women of all shapes and sizes, some of them in costumes or masks, most of them dressed in black. There were scuffed metal tables and folding chairs scattered throughout the room, and the word FORCE was written in huge black letters across the low ceiling. I stayed close to Noah as we pushed through the crowd. The men in the room watched me as we passed, their eyes moving up my body, ogling my breasts, my legs, my ass.