The Switch

by Diane Whiteside

  Warning:

  The following material contains strong sexual content meant for mature readers. “THE SWITCH” has been rated NC-17, erotic, by three individual reviewers. We strongly suggest storing this electronic file in a place where young readers not meant to view this e-book are unlikely to happen upon it. That said, enjoy…

  Acknowledgments

  My deepest thanks go to…

  Eric, for answering endless questions about the Rangers,

  Karen, for making sure that Beth walked smoothly in the ways of both Japan and America,

  Louise, for describing Tiffany’s illness so well, and

  Delores, who quickly told me how Sean got out of the Army when I was running hard to meet a deadline.

  You’ve been marvelous friends and I couldn’t have written Sean and Beth’s story without you. Any remaining errors are my responsibility.

  Chapter One

  Seattle

  November 2001

  Monday, 4 PM

  Beth stood on the street corner, waiting for the light to change. Her Savile Row black suit shed Seattle’s rain as easily as the London weather of its makers. It also set her apart from the other pedestrians in their serviceable jackets and jeans.

  Beth tossed off any envy for their comfort. She’d worn suits for too many years in gatherings where status was measured by one’s tailor. This suit was more formal than most, especially with the black silk shirt, black hose and black pumps. It was also perfectly appropriate for hosting a luncheon meeting with Japanese bankers. Somehow, being a Treasury bureaucrat and conversing easily in English and Japanese was easier in decorous clothing.

  But her beloved black and gold scarf nestled against her throat, reminding her of other occasions when a woman could wear a formal black suit and be considered all the more female for it. Events that sometimes began in public but always ended in private, with both herself and her lover well-satisfied. Her mouth quirked at the thought, remembering how boneless a sated man could look when he was finally permitted to climax at the end of a long evening’s play.

  The light changed and she crossed, following the other walkers’ lead in dodging the puddles. This neighborhood was old and eclectic, only recently returned to prosperity. Its streets were solid but would probably betray their age later that evening by collecting rivers and lakes, instead of trickles and puddles, from the promised heavy rain.

  Beth checked the street number of the closest store and strode briskly on. Two blocks past the dungeon and half-way down the block were the directions. A bookstore just down the street from a professional BDSM dungeon definitely sounded like an escape from work.

  The dungeon had a good reputation in the scene but that didn’t matter at the moment. She’d rather visit a bookstore than look for partners in Seattle’s BDSM scene.

  Time was precious now, especially for a brief reprieve from the conference. She had spent weeks preparing for its intense discussions on East Asia’s banking systems, fiscal stability, and more. But even her absorption in those demanding plans had paled against the events of September 11th; not surprising, given the funerals she had attended afterwards.

  A shop ahead drew her, with its spill of bright light across the sidewalk under a festive striped canopy. If nothing else, she could check street numbers in comfort before making one last dash to the bookstore she sought.

  A few steps more and she read the store’s name: The Wise Old Owl. A fat orange tomcat slumbered under its emblem of a gilded owl.

  Travel books offered a sunny escape in the front windows. The bright colors of children’s books offered another kind of vacation for tired parents. White walls and blonde wood bookcases reflected the light and bright colors, welcoming the casual visitor. The store was quiet now and seemed empty of customers as it awaited the evening rush.

  Beth smiled at the sight and walked in. She’d found her diversion.

  The doorbell rang softly, announcing her arrival.

  Beth quickly fastened her black umbrella, being careful not to shake any water off onto the books. Her eyes studied the store looking for clues to the books she wanted.

  The clerk spoke from behind the counter in front and she glanced over at him. Gary, according to his name badge, was 20-something, slender and very fit with a full head of dark hair above a goatee. He was also more formally dressed than she’d expected for this neighborhood in a shirt and tie. But the store advertised old-fashioned service with its modern selection, so perhaps he dressed for the more traditional aspects.

  “Good evening, ma’am. Can I help you find anything?” he offered.

  “I’m looking for some erotica. Can you help me?” Beth answered bluntly, not willing to waste time.

  “Oh yes, that’s right at the back. Any particular kind?” he asked as he headed down the center aisle to show her the way.

  “Heterosexual erotica, please,” she answered, satisfied with his easy response to what could be an embarrassing request.

  Gary went straight to the back wall and turned right at the row of bookcases leaning against it.

  “We’ve got that right here on this shelf. Anything else?”

  Beth looked where he indicated. Interesting titles offered themselves from less than half of the shelf. The rest of the bookcase seemed full of titles from other genres, mostly critical studies of literary classics. She sighed.

  “Non-fiction sexuality?” she questioned.

  “Just to your left, across the aisle.”

  Beth glanced over and saw some more possibilities.

  “Gay erotica too please, if you’ve got it. And perhaps a little lesbian?” she questioned, hoping for a wider selection.

  “Oh, that will be in the bookcases right in front of this one. You’ll see the gay erotica first and then the lesbian,” he replied casually.

  “Thanks,” Beth responded as she started looking more closely at the heterosexual titles. They were primarily well known series from major publishers. Beth snarled to herself: if she saw one more volume of letters to the editor of a famous magazine, she’d probably scream. She’d come to this eccentric neighborhood to escape the familiar, not to revisit clichés.

  Beth paused, hearing a voice rumble through the wall. The man must be on just the other side, given how easily she heard him.

  “No, I’m not interested in their offer, Tim. Business may be slow but I’m not going to accept an offer of less than half its appraised value. They’ll have to do a lot better than that, if they want to beat out the other bidders.”

  Beth smiled at the controlled growl under the words, sounding as ferocious as a weapons buyer in a bazaar. He showed more discipline and force than many of the currency traders she’d worked with in Manhattan. Her fingers stroked a book of couples’ erotic fantasies, while she enjoyed the deep music of his voice.

  “I’ll call Phillips tomorrow and tell him. That everything?… Have a good time at the game.” A click signaled the call’s end.

  Beth sighed, unconsciously regretting the lost voice. Her hand lingered on the book for a second longer before she moved along the shelf. She picked up the latest volume of a favorite series and considered its list of contributors.

  A door to the back opened and a man came through it. Beth blinked, startled, and saw a big blond Viking walk in. He stood well over six feet, more than tall enough to make her five feet, nine inches seem petite. He was built of all bone and muscle, moving with the same unselfconscious ease as a leopard. A jagged white scar etched his right forearm from wrist to elbow, half-hidden under a gloss of bright hair.

  The blue flannel shirt above his jeans and work boots emphasized his blue eyes and his strong arms under the rolled up sleeves. He wore a serviceable watch on his right wrist and a narrow black metal bracelet on his left,
bearing a single line of text. Perhaps he was selling his truck, given clothes like that.

  His hair offered the only counterpoint to the lumberjack image: it was cut high and tight to his skull, leaving a thick golden pelt at the top of his head with white skin on the sides and back. That combination of dense silky hair with sculptured bone and tendons promised unique sensations to the lucky lady who found his head between her legs.

  He looked down at her, as he closed the door quietly. From this close, his eyes were the same deep, vivid blue as the Hope diamond. Their eyes met and locked.

  He stared at her, his eyes darkening with surprise and interest.

  Her gut twisted with lust and her breath caught with a barely audible gasp. Her hand instinctively started to rise, eager for contact.

  “Was everything the way you wanted it, Sean?” asked the clerk, coming to meet the newcomer.

  Sean froze and then shrugged as he turned to face Gary.

  “Yes, the apartment’s really clean, Gary. You and your lady did a great job on that after you moved out. How’s business, anyway?”

  “Doing good. Slightly better than last year, actually.”

  The two men grinned at each other, in perfect harmony over a victory, and moved back towards the front of the store.

  Dear heavens, Sean looked just as irresistible from behind, broad shoulders rising above a hard, narrow masculine ass. Old memories stirred, of Scotsmen dancing in their kilts when one of their own came home safe from war in the South Atlantic. Strong bodies sweating and men’s eyes gleaming with joy as they held their ladies. Herself at ten years old, watching quietly.

  Beth moved to the other side of the aisle. Non-fiction offered a wider selection than heterosexual erotica, plus a better look at him.

  The two men paused to chat in front of the movies section, with posters gleaming behind them. A young boy with black spectacles and a thunderbolt scar flew out of the sky over Gary’s head, an image of scholarly intensity echoed in the living man.

  But Sean’s hand rested on a stark red and black book, its cover shouting “Black Hawk Down.” A warrior’s book obviously, next to a man who looked fit to carry a sword in battle.

  Beth frowned, shrugging off the temptation to follow him, and returned to browsing. Sean was very interesting but real-life offered more pitfalls than fiction. She’d come into this store to find a fantasy to go to bed with. Surely books were the better choice, their paper and ink men far safer than flesh and blood. She could begin the real hunt after returning home, where friends could help find a good mate.

  The front door slammed open, its bell falling into an urgent jangle. Beth glanced up and caught sight of the newcomer in the mirror over the back door.

  The girl was too thin, her eyes looking like dark pools in her stretched white face, while her sweatshirt and jeans left trails of water on the carpet. She was shaking as she wrapped her arms around herself, staring around the room. Was the rain why she looked so distressed or was there something else? Beth found it difficult to judge, given the distortions of the mirror’s curved glass.

  Gary and Sean had stopped talking when the door opened. Their eyes met in perfect understanding before Gary went to the girl. Sean considered the store’s windows, sweeping every foot of sidewalk beyond with his glance. Then he moved to the other side of the book display, where he was closer to Gary and enjoyed clear passage down the center aisle to the front door.

  Was he covering Gary’s back?

  Beth turned to see more directly, rather than through the mirror.

  “Can I help you, ma’am?” Gary’s voice was softer, even more polite than his greeting to Beth. The girl visibly gulped hard before she looked at him.

  Beth cursed under her breath as she saw the blood trickling down the girl’s face. Probably not a bad injury, given the small amount of blood, but it still needed to be attended to. She took a step forward, instinctively planning to help.

  A roar of wind and traffic noises announced someone else. A young man burst in, looking like a rabid bulldog with his protruding eyes and clenched jaw. He pushed back his sweatshirt’s soaked hood and stabbed the trembling girl with one quick glare.

  “Damnit, Shelby, why the hell did you come in here?” A few quick steps brought him to the girl. He didn’t hesitate when he brushed against a display, sending books to the floor.

  Shelby stammered something that might have been words and shrank towards Gary, who moved up next to her.

  The young man cursed and reached for her. “Come on, Shelby! You know better than to run away. Just cut the crap and come with me.”

  “Perhaps you should ask the young lady what she wants to do.” Sean’s voice was very calm as he came forward.

  The kid jerked around to face Sean, breaking his concentration on Shelby.

  “Don’t be stupid, man. Shelby’s my bitch and she knows she can’t leave. Just get outta my face and we’ll be out of here.”

  “The young lady,” Sean said slowly, with the slightest emphasis on the noun, “may have another idea.”

  “Doesn’t matter if she does. She’s coming with me.” The kid started to grab Shelby and Sean shifted, blocking the attempt.

  “Damnit!” The kid’s hand moved and silver blossomed in his fist. He lunged towards Sean with the knife.

  Sean’s hands came up as he pivoted smoothly.

  The kid yelped an instant later, just before metal clattered against a bookcase and dropped to the floor. Sean held the kid easily, one arm tight against his back. The kid twisted wildly and yelped again before standing still.

  “Let me go!”

  “Not yet. The young lady’s wishes have yet to be considered. What do you want me to do with him, Miss Shelby?” Sean’s voice was as unhurried as if he discussed dinner plans, instead of an attacker’s disposal. Beth’s eyes widened at the quiet mastery in his deep voice.

  The girl’s eyes were enormous as she stared at her rescuer. “I don’t want any trouble,” she began and stopped. She tried again. “Can you just tell Tony to leave, or something? So I don’t have to see him again?”

  “Are you sure, ma’am? He might come after you if the police don’t lock him up.”

  “I’ve got someplace safe to go. And, and, I don’t want to talk to the cops. They’d just cause more trouble for me. So would you please get him out of here?” Shelby seemed on the verge of tears.

  “Yes, ma’am, if you’re quite certain that’s what you want.”

  Shelby nodded jerkily.

  Sean marched the kid towards the front. Shelby stayed silent, watching them leave.

  Just before they reached the door, the kid halted and tried to turn around.

  “My knife! Give me back my knife!”

  “No. Just be glad you’re leaving here with your skin intact.”

  The kid struggled furiously but Sean quickly brought him under control.

  Sean spoke again, his steady voice given more emphasis by the boy’s anger. Beth shivered at its cold promise.

  “Remember one thing, kid. The deal’s off if you hurt the young lady. You do that and I’m coming after you. Got that?”

  Beth watched the kid’s face shift from a youthful sneer to terror as he absorbed Sean’s promise. He swallowed hard before answering.

  “Yeah, I understand,” he mumbled, before adding a surprising “Sir.”

  “Good. Now go.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The kid opened the front door quickly and was running before he reached the next store. Sean watched him go and then turned back into the bookstore, his face relaxed and thoughtful. The orange tomcat in the window rolled and stretched, leaving one paw lifted into the air in an impolite salute.

  “How would you like a cup of coffee and some dry clothes?” Gary offered the girl. Shelby eyed him suspiciously.

  “It’s okay, Shelby. His fiancée owns the clothing store across the street. You can change there and make a phone call while you drink some coffee.”

  Shelby
visibly relaxed at Sean’s explanation. Beth smiled; she understood agreeing to any suggestions couched in a deep purr, especially when uttered by the man who’d just saved you.

  “Okay,” Shelby decided shakily. “I’ve got money though, enough to pay for whatever I need.”

  “Of course you do,” Gary agreed soothingly. “Let’s go see what Shannon can find. Would you handle the store until I get back, Sean? I’ll send one of Shannon’s clerks over if I’ll be gone long.”

  “No problem. I’ll just do some browsing while I wait.”

  Gary snorted and fetched an umbrella from behind the counter. He guided Shelby across the street, picking his way through the puddles and sheltering her as solicitously as if she were a queen.

  Beth watched Shelby’s growing comfort with a smile. A real-life drama had ended happily, unlike many. A strong man had freed a girl, hopefully forever, from another’s greedy clutches. Beth wished briefly she’d had that sort of protection from her avaricious fiancé. But she’d ended the engagement herself and paid the price.

  She sighed and returned to the books’ safety.

  Beth exhausted the non-fiction books in a few minutes and headed for the gay and lesbian fiction. She followed the bookcases’ labels, moving deeper into the narrow path between them like an archaeologist following a tunnel into a buried city. Ethnic fiction, Jewish fiction, African-American fiction, all glided past without receiving a second glance. The bookcases jogged to the right and she froze.

  The big Viking stood there, calmly reading a book. Beth took a deep breath and considered what to do next. Did he want to strike up an acquaintance? Did she? She quietly took her place in front of the bookcase next to him and waited, hoping he’d act on the interest he’d shown earlier.

  Beth quickly realized that the gay erotica section was entirely at her disposal, since Sean was standing in front of the lesbian erotica section. His book’s cover, which he held just below the level of her eyes, was an elegant but explicit work of art celebrating the joys of women pleasuring each other.

  Beth smiled to herself: who was she to complain when she enjoyed artwork emphasizing the male body? And that was a very nice male body only a step away from her too. Too good to be easily ignored, especially since he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. The lack of a ring was hardly an infallible signal of availability, any more than its presence always meant monogamy. On the other hand, its absence did offer an opening.