by Grant, KT
The office phone rang, and she jumped. Raymond had never called the business line before. The only calls she received were from the staff or the bouncers letting them know someone was here to see her.
Would Raymond show up at The Gate, trying to force her to see him? She eyed the phone. After the fifth ring, she picked it up, resigned to answer.
“Hello, Miss Catherine. A Miss Walsh is out front asking for you. She looks upset.”
“I’m coming now.” She hung up. Why would she come here without Max and ask for me?
Anxious to know the answer, she rushed toward the front, her sneakers squeaking on the floor. Glad she’d decided to wait until the doors opened to put on her stiletto boots, she hurried with no fear of falling on her ass.
Erika stood near the entrance, huddled in her coat. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, her mascara streaking down her cheeks. There were bruises around her throat, and her hair was tangled. Jimmy loomed next to her, his hands clenching and unclenching in an uncomfortable stance.
“Erika, what happened? Are you okay?”
“I had nowhere else to go. I couldn’t go home with my father there. Alyson and Kim wouldn’t understand. Chris was…he…and Max….” Her lips trembled as tears filled her eyes.
She draped an arm around the distressed woman’s shoulder. “Did Max hurt you?”
“N-no. Yes…crap. It’s not what it seems. I came here because you’re the only one who can tell me the truth about him,” Erika sobbed.
“Why don’t we go up to my suite where we can talk? Maybe you’d like to take a shower and get changed? I can find something for you to wear.”
Nodding, she wiped her eyes. “A hot shower would be great. After what I did with him, I need one.”
What the hell did you two do? She pursed her lips to stop from asking. She pretty much presumed there had been some sort of sexual interaction with Max, but as to what, she wouldn’t know until the woman confided in her.
“Jimmy, I’m not to be disturbed while I’m with Miss Walsh unless it’s an emergency. You can text me in case a certain individual I told you about makes an appearance.”
“Yes, Miss Catherine.” The hulking, muscular man who kept The Gate secure, nodded.
“Good man.” She smiled at him in approval.
She guided the distraught woman across the empty dance floor to the elevator that would take them up to the fifth level. When Erika was situated, she would send Max a text, telling him Erika was with her. She would then hear what Erika had to say, hoping she didn’t end up wanting to slap Max.
***
“Ready now to tell me how Max fucked up?”
After blowing on her tea, Erika curled her arms around her knees. She sat in the corner of the couch, wearing gray sweatpants and a sweatshirt with some sport team logo in the middle. They still had the tags on them.
“Where did you get these?” she asked, obvious she was stalling.
Crossing one leg over the other, Catherine glanced at her watch. The club had just opened, and here she was upstairs, sharing a cozy chat with the woman who looked like she’d been through hell and back. She sympathized with her because she’d been in the same situation many times over. But at least Erika had someone to talk to, whereas she never had many girlfriends to confide in.
It seemed the troubled woman, who she believed was a kind, sweet person, was stuck in her own complication with Max who Catherine loved a great deal. There was no way she’d be able to take sides. Better to remain neutral.
Erika wrapped her hands around the mug. “I found out he is going to try to take over my father’s company because it’s on the verge of bankruptcy. He’s planned the overthrow for months but failed to tell me when we started…dating. Can I even call it that? Or are we just fucking for fun, or is he using me to get his own kicks because I was available and he thought it would be hilarious to screw his enemy’s daughter both literarily and figuratively?”
“First of all, he keeps his career separate from the club.” She gestured with a wave of her hand. “He’s been very particular about that. As for his sexual, shall we say, hobbies, he’s not so vindictive or mean where he gets off on degrading or debasing another because it feeds his ego. It’s all an act both parties acknowledge when they play the game. I’ve known him for a long time. He can be shrewd and callous, but his cruelty comes out when he’s in his master role. Even then, he makes sure his partners enjoy themselves or find satisfaction regardless of the pain he may bring down on them.”
“May I ask you a personal question about you and Max?”
She swung her leg. “No, I’ve never had sex with him. We’ve played some Gate games involving paddling, whipping, and bondage, but it never went further than that. I’ve been in two committed relationships. The first one was with his brother, Cameron. The second with my master.”
Erika’s eyes widened. “You have an actual master?”
I left myself open. She nodded and tugged on her belly button ring. “A few years after Cameron died, I met my master. Here of all places. He’s older and French and gorgeous. His smile and voice are cream worthy.” She grinned, lost in the memory of the first time Raymond made love to her, right after he’d tied her up and used hot wax in places that caused her to scream out in both pleasure and pain. “I fell head first in love with him, and we had a commitment ceremony a year later. But right now, we’re separated. It’s complicated. Something I don’t want to talk about. So, can we keep the conversation on Max?” She dropped her chin on her palm. “Is the reason you’re so upset because of what you found out?”
Closing her eyes, Erika nodded. A flush ran up her throat and over her face. “I confronted him about that and a past relationship he had with the sister of a friend. We fought. One thing led to another, and we ended up….”
“Screwing like bunnies?”
Opening her eyes, the woman gaped at her.
“I’ve done that before. Hot, angry sex is the best kind. But the makeup sex is even better.”
“I don’t think there will be any makeup sex. Afterward, I slapped him across the face and told him goodbye.”
She winced. “Ouch. He isn’t going to be happy at all. But when it comes to you, he won’t hold a grudge like his brother.”
“Which brother?”
Sweeping back her hair, she dropped both feet on the floor. “Cameron. Daniel is pretty easygoing. I think it’s his west coast lifestyle. Cameron was always riled up, got annoyed over the littlest things.”
Erika laid her cheek on the arm she rested on the edge of the couch. “Max told me what happened. He blames himself for his brother’s death.”
“I blame myself. It’s stupid and I shouldn’t feel guilty, or so my parents and therapist told me, but I was one of the enablers. I introduced him to the lifestyle.” She sighed. “I thought he’d handle it like Max, but he didn’t.”
Erika twirled one of her dark curls. “The other reason I was upset is because a friend of mine, who isn’t fond of Max, blames him for ruining his sister’s marriage. For her suicide attempt. She was pretty erratic to begin with, but because of his—”
“Don’t even go there,” she whispered in warning, folding her hands together. “All evidence should point to him abusing women and ruining relationships, but that’s not true. He would never, ever do that. I don’t care what your friend told you.” Her breath quickened. “Max is picky. He only chooses single women. I think one of the reasons is because of Cameron and me, how he thought Max and I were sleeping together. It’s not true. I’ve never cheated on any man I was committed to.” A tickle caught in her thoat over her small fib, and she coughed, pushing thoughts of Bryan from her mind. “The engagement ring I wore should have proved that, but Cameron didn’t care. I let him blame me for his jealous outbursts and…abuse. Max was changed because of his brother’s suicide. His guilt has stuck with him for so long he’s absorbed my own in the process. He’s my rock, the one I turn to when I have no one else to go to for adv
ice. If he wasn’t in my life, I don’t know where I would be. That’s the man I know and love.”
“Your side of him is different from my own,” Erika said.
She shrugged. “You’ve know him for less than a month. I’ve known him for ten years. You may not want to hear this, but it needs to be said. Maybe you overreacted. Instead of talking to him calmly about his possible takeover of your father’s company and some past romantic relationship, you jumped to conclusions. The few times we met, you’ve come across as pretty level headed. But then again, a person in love isn’t always thinking correctly.”
Erika sat up like something jabbed her in the back. “Love? Um no. Not love, maybe—”
“All signs point to a woman in love. I would say the same goes for Max. In all the years I’ve known him, he’s brought one other woman from the outside to The Gate, and that didn’t go well. The women he dates are kept separate from the ones he encounters here. Also, you can tell a lot about what a man feels for a woman from his eyes. When he’s with you or watches you when you’re not looking, they light up. But then they become darker, more intense, as if he can’t wait to get you alone so he can show you how much you mean to him.”
“How do you know?” she asked in a tired yet defensive tone.
“I’ve seen it before. I was lucky to have it with Cameron and then with Raymond.” As for the new man in her life, she refused to acknowledge his possible feelings, or her own for that matter. But what she’d seen in Bryan’s eyes when she’d been on her knees with his cock in her mouth showed her so much. It scared her.
Erika rubbed her hands over her face. “You’ve been very lucky, but also had a lot of heartbreak. I’m not sure if I was in your shoes I’d be able to function.”
“Life is challenging. Loving someone is also. You learn to accept their faults along with their positives. That’s what love is.” Blinking away the burning sensation in her eyes, she stood, refusing to have another breakdown. “I’d rather have a broken heart than never love at all.”
“You’re a very profound person.” She curled her feet under her bottom.
“I’ve heard so many sob stories about love I could write a book on it.” She glanced down at her watch again. “I’m needed downstairs. Will you be okay?”
“I think so. If you don’t mind, I’d like to make another cup of tea.”
“Not at all. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want. You can even crash in my room. I can come up later to check on you.” She enjoyed talking with Erika. She hoped what she said got through to the confused woman. It would be a shame if Max lost her because of corporate greed or some other reason to do with lining his pockets.
“I might do that. It’s been a stressful day.” She pulled her sweatshirt sleeve. “Thank you for being so nice. I didn’t think you would, since you’re such good friends with Max.”
“He has something special with you. I expect him to get down on his knees and grovel for your forgiveness.”
Erika let out a sad laugh. “He doesn’t seem the type who would get on his knees for anyone.”
“There’s a first time for everything.” She envisioned him in such a position. Chuckling, she headed toward the door. “No one can get in without a key, so you don’t have to worry about anyone sneaking in. Also, the elevator has a special code only Max and I know,” she said, trying to put her at ease. He never responded to her text, so she had no idea if he would stop by to see Erika.
The woman gave her a sleepy nod, so Catherine left her to her contemplation.
When she reached the elevator, her phone pinged—Raymond with another text message.
Enough is enough.
She almost typed in a response but thought it was better to call. He was right—enough was enough. She could no longer ignore him. If she continued to do so, it would end badly for both of them.
Raymond picked up on the first ring, greeting her with his heavy breathing.
***
Bryan noticed her the moment she entered the room. His cock swelled when she sulked, as if she was disappointed he wasn’t sitting in his usual spot at the bar. Instead, he sat on a couch near the staircase, trying to ignore the woman next to him. He’d wanted to be alone in his misery while he thought of a way to play another one of their “games”. He was ready to offer Catherine half a million dollars to have one night with her, allowing her do whatever she wanted to him. Sex was no longer important. That could wait. For the moment, he wanted her hands on him, marking him with her instruments of torture, or perhaps her mouth like she’d done when she blew him. More than a few girls had given him blowjobs. They’d been okay, but nothing like when Catherine wrapped around his dick, causing him to shoot his load into her mouth.
“Hey, cutie, when I talk, men listen.” The woman, who called herself Mistress Louise, snapped her fingers in front of his face. When she’d plopped down next to him, intruding on his space, he hadn’t been annoyed—at first. She was gorgeous with long black hair and lips painted a dark cherry red. Her smoking hot body was broadcasted to perfection in her black-and-red laced corset, tight black leather pants, and platform sandals with a jagged heel.
“Sorry.” He drank his orange juice, studying Catherine as she talked to the bartender.
“Hmm,” Mistress Louise murmured. With a long, black fingernail, she circled the top of his hand. He didn’t pull away, even when she slipped her fingers under his sleeve. Her touch tickled, and his cock jerked. Other than a super short, pleated skirt, and a skintight tube top with her signature fuck-me boots, Catherine wasn’t as flashy or on display like usual.
Mistress Louise cleared her throat, something like a purr coming from her mouth. Pushing up his sleeve, she turned over his arm. Her nails scraped the inside of his elbow.
He shot her an annoyed look. “What?”
She gave him a calculating smile, showing slightly crooked front teeth. She dropped her other hand on his thigh, inching toward his groin. “You’re into cutting.”
Her touch wasn’t unpleasant, but the hands he wanted on him belonged to the woman who poured drinks and talked to the patrons at the bar. One of them, a bald man in a mesh tank leaned over to kiss her on the mouth. He curled his fingers into a fist, ready to launch across the room and leap on the asshole for touching what belonged to him.
Mistress Louise rubbed the side of his face. She must have thought his reaction was for her. Rising onto her knees, she grasped the back of his neck. Her breath tickled his ear, scented with something minty.
“From that massive bulge in your pants and the sweat dripping from your pores, you need to relieve some of your tension. I can help you feel much better. I won’t even charge you for the pleasure.”
When she blew in his ear and latched onto his arm, he didn’t push her away. He was too involved in watching the action at the bar. Catherine still talked to the man, leaning over the counter much like she did when she first met him.
“What’s your specialty?” he asked, giving the invasive, yet sexy woman beside him a small smile to appease her.
She rubbed against him, the ribbons covering her chest brushing across his throat. “I’m a cock tease. I like to tie up men and torment them until they cry like a baby, begging me for mercy. But my main expertise is more perverse.” She swiped a finger down the front of his shirt, venturing over to his arm again. Flipping his palm over, she circled a nail up the inside of his wrist and over his scarring. “One way I tease and titillate is using a razor or knife. Sometimes I just run the blade over the skin, not slicing. But if my partner is interested, I’ll cut.”
“Cutting?” Tearing his gaze from the far too cozy scene between Catherine and the asshole at the bar, he looked back at Mistress Louise. “Sounds too kinky for me.”
She shrugged, not offended, and continued her exploration over his arm. Her scratching relaxed him even though he was still hard as shit. She must have an amazing skill with a knife or razor. But to let her cut him and make him bleed was too fucked up eve
n for him.
“It is for some, and more for, shall we say, serious players. Maybe you’re not one of them. Maybe you prefer to jack off in some corner, watching people get off rather than partake in what The Gate has to offer because of your pathetic crush on the High Mistress.”
He refused to rise to the bait. “You act like you know me. You don’t.” He drained his glass, wishing he had something stronger. He decided to go to the bar to ask Catherine for a shot, but then the man talking to her whispered something in her ear and ran his hand down the front of her chest. Laughing, she patted his head.
“I may know you better than you think.” Mistress Louise’s tone lost its seductive playfulness, her hand becoming still. “I’ve been watching you since you first came here and your interactions with Catherine. Mooning over her will get you jack shit, nothing but a bad case of blue balls. She treats all the men the same. It’s not because you don’t have that something special. Hell, you’re one of the hottest kids here. But she’s promised to someone else. She has a master she bows down to, and she won’t break that sacred bond with him.” She patted his knee then draped her arm across the back of the couch, her fingers tracing the nape of his neck, twirling his hair. “Why not move on to someone who can give you what you need?”
He inhaled through his nose to stop the rush of anguish filling him. Why didn’t she tell me she had a master? He might be new to the scene, but the one thing he knew was it was a big, big rule not to intrude on that most sacred of relationships considered in the BDSM community.
“She doesn’t wear a collar. I haven’t seen her with any man who would be her owner.” He envisioned Catherine with her arms bound behind her, naked, on her knees giving another man a blowjob. His cock deflated.