Vow of Silence

by Roxy Harte

  “Crawl,” he commands.

  I fall to my knees. I don’t think about it, I just do it.

  Crawling toward George, my mind goes insane with images that should not be there. I could see myself collared, leashed—but if I gave into that fantasy how could I ever make any future dreams a reality? Quit thinking. Quit worrying.

  I crawl all the way to his bare toes and look up at him, the line of his long pale body unmarked by any imperfection. It is like staring up at a raised statue created by an Old World master. He is a god, and it is the most natural act to slide my hands up his legs. The fine hair covering his body is silky and I long to nuzzle against it. Need beyond my control leads me to do just that, and I rub my cheek over the softness of his thighs as I cup his ass. I hug him into me. He is erect and his penis bobs slightly, making me long to suck, but I’m not given the chance. George pulls me to my feet and kisses my face—jaw, cheekbones, eyelashes, nose, saving my lips until the last moment.

  His fingers cradle my face as our tongues dance together, and then he slides his finger between my lips.

  “Suck.”

  I suck and lick—giving his finger the treatment I wanted to give his cock—not because I have to, not because he ordered me to, but because I want to. I’m driven to this. I need this.

  “Invite me to your bed, Lin.”

  Taking hold of his hand, I pull his finger from my mouth and lead him into my bedroom.

  My hips flame anew, reminding me of the spanking, and I long to look, wanting to see if my skin is red. He pushes me down into the center of an Oriental rug. The nap is scratchy and not at all comfortable. My scorched skin doesn’t like it and I fidget, thinking this isn’t a good idea as I wait for him to join me.

  “Hold still. Let me look at you.”

  My breath stills in my chest with his command. I try to meet his gaze, but I’m embarrassed. He finally drops to his knees, and I think he has missionary in mind as he pushes my knees apart, but he doesn’t cover me with his body, he doesn’t fill me with his cock. He looks at my exposed genitals. I cover them with my hand. “That’s embarrassing.”

  He pushes my hand away. “I want to look.”

  He keeps looking way past the point of discomfort before he finally lowers his mouth to my clit. His tongue glides, circling it, making my back arch, before allowing me the small pleasure of being sucked. He finds the most tender, responsive spot and targets it. My hips buck.

  “God, George. It’s too good, it’s too much!”

  “Not nearly enough,” he whispers against my aching flesh before going back to his task.

  “You’re driving me insane!”

  He wraps his hands around my ass, pressing into the tender, hot spots, and holds me so tight even my wild thrashing and bucking doesn’t force his lips away. I cry out and immediately worry someone heard, but then I can’t control my cries. I get louder and louder as the strokes from his tongue cause pleasure, then painful pleasure, to shoot through my womb. He releases me only when he is ready to and by then it is pure, blinding pleasure. I can feel the lifting tug of a vortex.

  “Please don’t stop—please don’t.”

  His lips descend on command, pressing against my engorged clitoris. It is caught in agonized limbo between pleasure and pain, ready to be sucked hard, but George kisses my screaming flesh so tenderly that I pound the floor with frustration. I’m so close. His tongue circles in a light swirl.

  “Oh God, George! I can’t take this!”

  “Do you want to come, Lin?”

  “God, yes! Lick me. Suck me. Fuck me!”

  His breath is hot on my sex. “Say please.”

  “Please!”

  “Say, please let me come, Master.”

  Master?

  His hand falls on my thigh, a slap that brings me back to my senses. My clit is throbbing. I want to come, I need to come. I growl. What game is this?

  “This is who I am, Lin. Accept me as your Master and I will make all your fantasies come true.”

  I shake my head, but his tongue on my clit holds me in agony.

  “Oh God, oh God!” I lift my hips, trying to force my orgasm free.

  He licks back and forth, side to side, front to back, but he’s in complete control, holding back from my body the reward, torturing me with gentleness.

  “Please, Master, may I come?”

  George flicks his tongue faster, pressing harder, and the vortex lifts me hard and fast. Need climbs higher and…and higher.

  “Come now, sweetheart.”

  The fall of my orgasm is pure, blinding pleasure that leaves me writhing and screaming.

  He crawls over me and kisses me, his mouth tasting of my pussy.

  He slides his fingers into my vagina, and I am so slick they glide easily. “That wasn’t so horrible, was it?”

  My breasts heaving, I meet his gaze. “I didn’t like that. I didn’t like saying that.”

  “That?” he teases, pure wickedness filling his gaze.

  “You know what that.”

  He shakes his head.

  “I didn’t like calling you Master.”

  “Your body did.”

  I can’t deny the obvious.

  “Say you want me to master you.” He flips me onto my stomach, pushing my knees under me so that my ass is in the air. He rubs his hand over my bottom, reminding me that the heat still radiating from my flesh was caused by the spanking he gave me.

  “I can’t.”

  “You’re a very naughty girl, Lin.”

  God. I push back into his hand. I want him to spank me again. I don’t understand it, but I want it. I need it.

  “Spank me if I’m so naughty.”

  “That isn’t the way it works.” He cups my ass and pinches. “I don’t spank you when you want it. I’m not your bitch to tell what to do on a whim. Accept me for who I am.”

  I’m not surprised when he stands up and starts dressing, leaving my ass in the air waiting to be spanked or fucked. I really wouldn’t care which. I am shocked that I am devastated he does neither.

  Why do you make me so insane, George?

  “What time does your flight leave?”

  He doesn’t even look at me when he asks. He is in the process of tying his tie, and I am left feeling self-conscious. I flatten my body to the ground and watch his every motion. “Eight p.m. I need to finish a commissioned project this afternoon and deliver it, but I would have time to meet you for an early dinner and perhaps you can drive me to the airport?”

  “I’d planned on both.” He smiles at me when he turns to me. “I’m going to miss you. You must know that.”

  Do I?

  Through the closed bedroom door, I hear the squeak of a floorboard and the soft shuffling sound of Grandmother’s house slippers across the Berber carpet. I whisper frantically to George, “Grandmother!”

  Terrified of her reaction to finding a man in my room, I hurriedly pull on a robe, tidy my hair and rush into the hallway to meet her and rapidly greet her. “You’re up so late!”

  “I was waiting to hear about your big evening.”

  I lead her away from the bedroom. “It was exhausting.”

  “You went with a man,” she says, and it isn’t a question, more like an accusation. “I saw him from my window.”

  My heart beats frantically in my chest as I wonder when she saw him—before we left or when we returned. I pray it was earlier in the evening.

  “You will bring shame upon the ancestors,” she accuses as she walks back to the door that connects our living spaces.

  “Because he isn’t Chinese?” She doesn’t have to agree. I can see the disappointment in her expression. “He’s a very nice man. He’s a doctor.”

  “A doctor?” she repeats, and then her lips press tightly together as she considers this bit of information. “Wealthy?”

  “Yes, Grandmother. He lives in a mansion overlooking the bay.”

  “He isn’t Chinese. The ancestors would have to be appeased, b
ut I can see you wouldn’t have to work so hard. You could stay home and raise babies.”

  “Yes,” I agree, almost choking on the word. I’ve fought so hard, for so many years to be seen as an accomplished sculptor. I’m bright, intelligent and capable of so much more than breeding, but didn’t I say the exact same thing to George? That I could bear his children? I don’t even know if I truly want children—I just want more. There has to be more to life. Something I am missing.

  “I am not happy about this,” she tells me. “But if you are intent on pursuing this man as a husband and father for your children, you shouldn’t allow him here after dark. There is no reason for him to wed you if you behave like a whore.”

  I gasp, realizing she knows he’s in my bedroom but she departs without another word.

  “She seems very intense.”

  George’s voice startles me and I spin to face him. “Did you hear everything?”

  “Just from the part where you told her I was a doctor.”

  “Did you expect me to tell her the truth?”

  “You don’t think she’ll find out on her own?”

  I slump into a chair. This is my worst nightmare. I’ve spent so much time worrying that someone I know will recognize him from the billboards and blow my secret, I haven’t considered that Grandmother might discover the truth by seeing him herself. Burying my face in my hands, I cry. “I lied because I don’t know what else to do, George. There is no other man I want to be with—no one, just you—and I don’t want her to forbid me from seeing you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  George

  I regret telling Gigi I would visit her today when I kiss Lin goodbye even though I promise to see her later. Lin and I made so much progress last night, and now it will be a month before I have any real time with her to build on what we started.

  Gigi is in therapy when I arrive and I watch from the sidelines. She is trying to relearn how to swallow. As she sputters and chokes, grabbing her throat, the therapist assures her, “Water is the hardest.”

  Seeing me, she waves and smiles.

  After several more tries, she finally masters the difficult liquid.

  “Think you are up to sherbet?” her therapist asks.

  We share a look, and I guess she too is remembering a cold treat enjoyed overlooking the bay.

  Sherbet turns out to be only slightly easier to swallow than water but she makes a game of it, holding the frozen concoction on her tongue until I command, “Swallow.”

  The therapist is oblivious of the game we’re playing.

  She swallows, immediately making panting huffs, her mouth wide. The therapist reacts, believing she is gasping. “She’s choking.”

  “No, look at her face. She’s laughing.”

  Eventually therapy is over and we have a few moments alone together. There are so many questions I want to ask her. I wonder what she has been doing. Did she go to college? Where does she work? Does she enjoy hobbies? Honestly I just want to hear that she is having a good life, that she is happy, but I fear I would not find that answer no matter how deeply I delved into her privacy.

  She saves me by asking, “How have you been?”

  “Good.”

  “You’re no longer practicing psychiatry?”

  Her question sounds more like an accusation. I answer casually, “I needed a change.”

  “Meaning, I ruined your life?”

  I meet her gaze. I’m shaking my head when I answer, “No, you didn’t,” but my assurance sounds like a lie even to me.

  “So? What are you doing to earn your keep? You don’t look homeless.”

  I chuckle despite the dark mood settling between us. “I changed vocations.”

  She cocks her head, waiting for me to give it up. Why am I so reluctant to tell her the truth?

  “I’m not going to stalk you, if that’s why you’re worried about divulging details.”

  “You might,” I say, my words too short to be the tease I meant. “I own a fetish fantasy club for BDSMers and the lifestyle curious.”

  Her eyes widen.

  I clarify, “You may have heard of the place—Lewd Larry’s?”

  “You own Lewd Larry’s?”

  “Recently. I’m the new owner. Garrett Lawrence bequeathed it to me.”

  “Bequeathed? As in he’s dead?”

  She sounds shocked, and a slow nod is all I can muster before saying, “We were close friends. I’ve been an employee there since the doors opened.”

  She looks saddened and at a loss for what to say. I save her from any more discomfort by standing and making my intention to leave clear. I should have left before now, having stayed longer than I intended.

  “Will you visit me again?”

  “I’d like that,” I answer with a smile and give her a quick kiss on the cheek. I’m immediately left feeling wrong.

  I wish Lin wasn’t leaving so soon—for purely selfish reasons. I need to find normal, whatever that is, because allowing myself to drift around in the past is too dangerous. My thoughts are confused, obviously clouded by emotion. I know what I was feeling when I was with Gigi before—or at least what I’ve been telling myself what I’d felt since the day I was arrested—and I don’t have to feel guilty about any of it because my feelings weren’t inappropriate.

  Have I been lying to myself?

  Were my actions inappropriate?

  Did I lead her on?

  I knew she had a crush on me, but I didn’t flirt back. I didn’t.

  I’ve blamed her for destroying what had been my world, when maybe I should have been pointing the finger at myself, taking full blame, being accountable—

  Kapow.

  I’ve dropped to my knees before it dawns on me what is happening. I’m being attacked. God, where was he? I didn’t even see him coming. I clutch my spinning head, seeing stars. I know I should be trying to get away.

  Still doubled over, I pull my wallet from my pocket and hold it out to my attacker. “Take it. There’s a couple hundred in cash.”

  “We don’t want your money.” Two pairs of feet came into view, both shod in expensive shoes.

  I look up and my gaze goes immediately to one of the men’s hands. He is wearing leather gloves and pounding one fist into the other palm, like a ballplayer might glove a ball. I see the punch coming, but there isn’t anything I can do to stop it. “Ummmph!”

  I take three solid kicks to my ribs and one to my face before the attack stops.

  “This is a message. Stay away from Giselle Marconi.”

  The second man kicks me from behind, square over my kidney, and it feels like my spine snaps under the force. Pain arcs through my body, leaving me writhing on the dirty concrete lot.

  “Hey, you there! I’m calling the police!” The voice seems far away, but the two men flee. Thank God.

  “They’re gone.” Someone shakes me. “Are you all right?”

  Everything fades black and I can’t stop that from happening either.

  “Hang in there, help is coming.”

  * * * * *

  I regain consciousness in the emergency room and several hours of observation later am preparing to be discharged when a rap on the wall draws my attention to Detectives Robbins and Carr. I’d been expecting a city police officer, since I needed to fill out a report and try to give them a description. “This is a surprise, gentlemen.”

  “When we heard you were attacked, we thought we’d save a step—just in case your attack and Ms. Marconi’s attack are related.” Detective Robbins gives me a very direct look. “Do you have a shared enemy that either of you failed to mention in the earlier report?”

  “Not that I know of. Did the business card provide a lead?”

  “The investigation is ongoing,” Detective Carr informs me, which I take to mean he isn’t going to tell me anything. “Can you identify who did this to you?”

  “It was dark.”

  “Isn’t the parking garage very well lit, Dr. Kirkpatrick?”

>   “Usually it is. The area seemed more dim than normal. I didn’t really see anything.” Except expensive shoes. Do I really want to open a can of worms and tell these men that I think Gigi’s father either did this or ordered this done to me?

  “Do you have any known enemies, Dr. Kirkpatrick?”

  I take a deep breath. “I was advised to stay away from Gigi Marconi.”

  “And you haven’t followed that advice?” Detective Carr guesses.

  I shake my head.

  “Perhaps you might reconsider any future visits until we figure all of this out?” Carr suggests.

  I nod but don’t comment one way or the other.

  “No point sending out a sketch artist?”

  “No.”

  “I guess we’re done here,” Detective Carr says curtly.

  “As long as you are here, I’ve been thinking about Gigi’s injuries. I don’t think a sadist from the community did this. I wouldn’t be so quick to sweep her attack under the rug.” I think about the years wasted when Tony was murdered because the police assumed it was a hate crime, when the actual killer turned out to be someone in the community…and that was disregarded.

  “Leave the investigation to us…and ah, try to stay out of dangerous situations.”

  * * * * *

  Lin answers the door wearing her flame-retardant overalls. Her face is smudged with dark grit. She’s obviously still working on her commission piece even though the hour is growing late. She covers her mouth with her hands in reaction to my appearance. “What happened?”

  I didn’t think my black eye looked that horrific.

  “There was an incident.”

  She drags me inside and forces me to sit in a softly upholstered chair. “You’ve been beaten.”

  “Yes.” There isn’t any denying the obvious.

  “Who did this to you?”

  “Two men. I’m not certain who they were.” It’s the truth, but it feels like a lie.

  “Why?”

  “I think it was because I went to the hospital.”

  “This happened to you because of her? Retaliation for the accusations so long ago?”

  “I don’t know. The two men warned me to stay away from her.”

  Lin stands and paces. “You mustn’t go back then.”