For Sparrow (The Dream Dominant Collection Book 3)

by Pandora Spocks

  I appreciate you, Judd. I hope that somehow some of the things we talked about will help you as you make your way in the world. I hope that one day you find your own Sparrow, and that she makes you as happy as Jessi has made me. You deserve every happiness.

  So long, pal. See you on the other side.

  G.

  The clatter of something dropped in the kitchen brought his thoughts back to the present. He watched the new widow as people buzzed around her, pausing to murmur some heartfelt platitude before buzzing off again. God, people said some stupid shit when they didn’t know what to say.

  Judd saw a large woman in an ill-fitting black pantsuit lean over Jessi. He’s in a better place? What the fuck kind of thing is that to say? Jessi was facing his direction, and he watched her eyes widen with disgust. She simply excused herself and pushed past the ignoramus, retreating into the kitchen.

  Thinking that this might be his chance, Judd set down his glass and followed her. He made it into the kitchen in time to see her disappear through the back door. He continued to follow her, but hesitated just outside. Jessi crossed the pool deck and perched on the far side of the spa. He watched her hunch over, and he realized that she was crying.

  Shit! I’ll know when the time is right? I sure as hell know when the time is wrong.

  He waited a few minutes longer before beginning to slowly walk towards her. His loafer scraped on an uneven paver, and she immediately sat up and looked his way.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you,” he offered.

  “I just needed some air.” She wiped at her face, and seemed to be trying to hide the fact that she’d been crying. As if someone would judge her for mourning. “I buried my husband today. That’s the first time I said that out loud.” There was a haunted look in her eyes.

  He felt his heart melting in his chest. “I’ll leave you alone. I just wanted to say,” he cleared his throat, “that Graham was a good man. He was my friend and I’ll miss him.”

  She smiled sadly. “He’d be so please that you came. Did you work with Graham?”

  This is so not the right time to get into all that. “No. We were friends. I’m Judd, by the way.”

  She seemed to take in what he was saying, but he noticed that she didn’t introduce herself. He decided to push forward. “I thought maybe I would come back on Saturday, maybe help you with the lawn,” he said.

  She gave a vague answer, and he felt that he’d done enough for one day. “Alright, Jessi,” he said. “Take care, now.”

  Chapter 3

  Judd arrived home after midnight, happy to be finished with another twenty-four-hour shift. He loved his job as a paramedic with Fire/Rescue, but it had been a busy shift. What he wanted now was a nice juicy steak and some down time. Currently between girlfriends, he was content to grill up his beef and settle in with sports on television. The Dolphins had had an appalling season. Hopefully the Heat would fare better.

  As his steak cooked, he gazed out across the beach to the waves that crashed onto the sand. There was a storm out at sea. Lightening flashed in the distance, though it was too far out to hear the thunder. The wind was whipping up the surf into a white froth. He wondered vaguely whether his colleagues would be called out tomorrow to transport swimmers caught up in rip currents, and he sighed, glad to be off for the next twenty-four.

  Following his dinner and a decent showing by the Miami Heat, he stretched out in bed, and his thoughts wandered to Jessi. His last day off had been the day of Graham’s funeral. He wondered how she was coping. It was Friday night. Or Saturday morning, depending on how you looked at it. He’d told her he’d stop by tomorrow, the plan being to tackle the first item on the list, the hedges.

  How to explain to her how I knew Graham, or even better, why I’m at her house. That’s what the letter is for, stupid...

  It had been another night like this one, Judd rolling off a double shift, having covered for a buddy who was on vacation. After he’d eaten, he’d pulled up his favorite blog to check in on his friend, Sparrow’s Master, before crawling into bed. A few years back, following a rough divorce, Judd had realized that he wanted more than a simple vanilla relationship with a woman.

  When he’d first started out acting upon his Dominant tendencies, he’d met with disastrous results. That’s when he’d started looking online for some sort of guidance, and he’d stumbled upon Sparrow’s Master. SM was a successful Dominant who blogged about his life with his submissive, Sparrow, to whom he’d been married for many years. SM and Sparrow had the kind of relationship Judd hoped to find, and he’d followed the blog faithfully, asking questions and making comments on various postings.

  Eventually, Judd learned that SM was local, living in West Palm Beach, and he’d taken the chance of introducing himself by way of private message. Sparrow’s Master was the online name of Graham Crenshaw, a newspaper journalist in his day job, and the older man had been open to the idea of meeting with Judd. The two had struck up a friendship, meeting occasionally over coffee while the older man mentored Judd in the BDSM lifestyle. Since coming under Graham’s tutelage, Judd had experienced a few successes, but had thus far failed to find the one he was looking for.

  When Judd had pulled up the blog on that particular night last week, he’d been glad to see that, unlike the previous day, there was a new post. But as he began to read, he felt his heart drop.

  Dear readers,

  I’m sorry to inform you that my husband, Sparrow’s Master, suffered a fatal heart attack today. I want to thank you for following him over the years, I know that your friendship meant the world to him. This was a place for him to journal his thoughts and ideas about our journey together. I don’t know whether or not I will be removing this blog. I certainly won’t be adding to it. At any rate, thank you again for your kindness towards SM. He was my heart, my soul, my husband, and my Master. I am lost without him.

  Sincerely,

  His Sparrow

  Judd pulled up the post again after he’d returned home from the funeral. It was interesting that she’d used the word lost. Graham had used the same word. Judd supposed that just showed how in tune his mentor had been with his sub. There were a couple thousand comments from readers all over the world. He wondered if Jessi had any idea how well respected Graham had been in these circles.

  If he’d overheard correctly, Jessi’s son and daughter would be back to their own lives by now. It’s probably a good thing I’m heading over there the tomorrow, he mused.

  Chapter 4

  Jessi held herself together while the kids were home. No sense having them worry about her. They needed to get back to their lives. She certainly didn’t want them feeling as though they needed to babysit her.

  Adam left for Orlando on Friday morning. By the time Jessi dropped off Cara at Palm Beach International on Friday afternoon, she was exhausted. She hadn’t been able to keep food down since she’d gotten the news about Graham. She also hadn’t been able to sleep. Now, with the house to herself, she finally let herself fall apart.

  In the hamper in the master bath, she found an undershirt of Graham’s. It smelled of his cologne and dirty clothes. She undressed, shrugged into the ‘wife-beater’ tank top, and crawled into bed. There, she cried for hours, screamed for a while until her voice was gone, and ranted at the universe for letting her down. When the tears dried up, she curled into a ball and found herself in a sort of twilight not unlike subspace, but rather than feeling safe, she simply felt empty.

  Eventually, disoriented and having no idea of the time, Jessi headed downstairs to the kitchen. The clock on the microwave blinked 2:34.

  Must be a.m. It’s dark outside, she thought vaguely.

  Checking the fridge, she saw that it was still half full of casseroles she couldn’t bear to uncover, let alone try to eat, so she closed the door and headed to the liquor cabinet in the dining room, choosing the first bottle her hand touched. It happened to be a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels. Uncapping the whiskey, sh
e took a long pull and coughed as the warm liquid hit her raw throat.

  Unable to bear the emptiness of her bedroom she took the whiskey with her and let herself out the back door, choosing a lounge chair by the pool where she proceeded to drain the rest of bottle before passing out.

  SLOWLY, JESSI BECAME aware of the drone of some sort of lawn equipment. Damn neighbors.

  She tentatively cracked open one eye and wondered at the gecko staring back at her. Holy shit, I slept outside.

  She carefully peeled her cheek from the seat cushion and pushed herself to a sitting position on the lounge chair, immediately regretting the sudden movement.

  “Oh, my God,” she groaned, reaching to hold her head. Still, the relentless sound of trimmers echoed in her ears. From her position at the edge of the pool deck she could see past the end of the house, and to her surprise, a stranger was in her yard.

  Ignoring the pounding in her head, she stood and walked toward the source of the sound. A tall muscular man with short brown hair was trimming her hedges. He was dressed in an orange Dolphins t-shirt, khaki cargo shorts, and worn brown leather work boots.

  “Excuse me!” Jessi shouted, the effort sending pain shooting through her head. The man didn’t respond.

  Moving closer she tried again, holding her head with both hands to prevent it from blowing apart. “I said, excuse me!”

  Startled, he jumped and turned off the offending machine, his brown eyes made larger by surprise. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” he asked.

  “What are you doing here?” Jessi asked.

  “I’m trimming these hedges.”

  Jessi frowned. “Yeah, I can see that. I mean, why are you on my property, trimming my hedges?”

  The man frowned as well. “Um, I mentioned to you that I’d be here today to help out with your lawn.”

  “Who are you? When did we decide that you’d come here to do my hedges?”

  He smiled in a friendly way. “I’m Judd. Farris. We spoke at the funeral? I said that I’d be over today to help out.”

  Jessi blinked at him, trying desperately to recall ever having had a conversation with this...Judd person.

  “Out by your pool? I know, there were a lot of people here. It probably all runs together.”

  You have no idea, she thought. Then her memory stirred. “Oh, you were friends with Graham?”

  He grinned broadly. “Exactly. Graham and I used to go for coffee every once in a while.”

  Jessi aimed for a kind smile. “Well, look Judd, I appreciate your thoughtfulness. But you really don’t need to come over here and trim the hedges. It’s very nice of you, but I’ll be okay.”

  Judd shook his head. “I promised Graham I’d check in on you, take care of things like this.”

  “That’s great of you, but there’s no need. I release you from your promise,” Jessi said, her patience wearing thin.

  “It was a promise I made to Graham. You have nothing to do with it,” he said reasonably, and he prepared to continue with his work.

  “I have everything to do with it. Graham isn’t here. You’re dealing with me, now.”

  Judd let the trimmer hang down at his side and looked at her intently. “You look like shit, if you don’t mind me saying so. When is the last time you combed your hair? You have little leaves in it.”

  Jessi’s eyes went wide and she started to reply, but he cut her off. “You do realize you’re standing in your yard wearing only a stained men’s undershirt, right? I was trying to ignore it, but damn. A guy can only keep his eyes averted for so long.”

  Jessi glanced down to see Graham’s undershirt, which barely covered her panties, and clung to her breasts like Saranwrap in the humidity of the morning. “Shit!” she swore.

  “No worries, Jessi. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I’m done with these hedges,” Judd said as he started the trimmers again and returned to his work.

  Jessi hurried back to the pool deck and into the house.

  Chapter 5

  When Judd arrived at the Crenshaw home, he surveyed the vintage two-story Spanish style structure. Like so many houses in the neighborhood of El Cid, it had been built in the early 1920s, with its white stucco exterior and red barrel tile roof. It had distinctly Spanish details like arched doors and windows, and wrought iron railings. He recalled the beautiful wood floors and exposed-beam ceiling he’d seen on the day of the funeral.

  The first thing on Graham’s list had been the hedges that surrounded the property. They were tall, about eight feet high, and they were definitely in need of being trimmed. He’d borrowed a gas-powered trimmer from a buddy at work. He himself rented his beach townhouse. Lawn equipment wasn’t something he usually needed.

  He pondered whether to knock on the door and let Jessi know he was there, but then he decided to just start. She’ll figure it out.

  And she did. When he’d first seen her, he’d been shocked. Gone was the demure widow of the simple black dress. She looked like hell. He realized that Graham had been right. She’s utterly lost.

  And for a forty-five-year-old widow, she was hot. For a woman of any age she was hot. I’m going to hell for thinking that thought, he chastised himself.

  But she proceeded to try to make him leave, all the time completely unaware that the little bit she was wearing hid virtually nothing of her slamming body. He’d finally pointed out the fact, and she’d looked down at herself in surprise, as though someone else had dressed her that morning.

  After she’d stormed back into the house, he’d hurried to finish up the hedges and get home, the better to be alone with his pervy thoughts and a cold shower.

  Later, he looked at the second item on Graham’s list and rolled his eyes. Seriously?

  MORTIFIED, JESSI SLUNK into the house via the back door. What the hell just happened? She popped into the downstairs powder room and caught her reflection in the mirror.

  I look like a deranged bag lady. There’s fucking palm tree shit in my hair. And there are still marks on my face from the seat cushion.

  She went upstairs as quickly as her hangover would allow and took a scalding shower, scrubbing both her body and her hair. By the time she was dressed in a pale blue tank top and white shorts, she looked faintly presentable. There were still dark circles under her eyes, but only rest would take care of those, and she didn’t see that coming any time soon.

  She stepped out onto the front porch but Judd was gone. He’d picked up after himself, bagging the trash and setting it out at the curb.

  I couldn’t even get Graham to do that. She felt faintly disappointed. I just wanted to show him that I’m not a crazy person, she told herself.

  Jessi spent the rest of Saturday and Sunday hovering between being alright and losing her mind. She tried to eat but just couldn’t bring herself to cook anything, or to face the wall of casseroles in the fridge.

  At one point she found herself in the bedroom staring at a spot on the floor. It was at the end of the bed, although there was nothing to mark it, to render it unique from any other place on the hardwood. It was simply the designated spot where Jessi had presented herself to Graham every evening at precisely 7:00 p.m. for the last eight years.

  Mechanically, she removed her clothes and placed them in the hamper, taking the folded green throw from the wingback chair in the corner, and placing the blanket on the floor. Opening a drawer in Graham’s dresser she removed a black leather collar and its matching lead, fastening the collar around her neck and kneeling on her spot.

  It was here every night that Jessi would wait for her Master, eyes closed, breathing slowed, mind emptied, until he came and held her lead, pulling her head to his thigh.

  “That’s my Sparrow, my good girl,” he’d say, gently stroking her hair. Or not so gently, if he had in mind to fuck her.

  On this night, Jessi waited, still and silent. But the knowledge that no one would be coming to gentle her mind or to fuck her body rendered a sob from the depths of her soul. Shakily, she rose from
her kneeling place and put everything away, before curling up alone in the huge bed and hoping for sleep.

  Jessi managed to go to work every day the next week. Four years earlier, Graham had supported her decision to leave her job as a teacher to start Sea Star Celebrations, an event planning service, with her good friend, Sarah. Following Graham’s funeral, she knew that Sarah didn’t expect her to bounce right back, but she also knew it would be unfair to leave her partner alone to face the events they had booked. There were two bar mitzvahs during the week, and a large wedding on Friday night.

  While she wasn’t operating at one hundred percent, Jessi ended the week feeling that she’d contributed to the successful outcomes of the events, and she knew they’d even managed to book a handful of parties for the coming months.

  In spite of not feeling up to making conversation, Jessi made it a point to call both Cara and Adam during the week. She felt that it was up to her to make sure they were recovering from the loss of their father. Cara mentioned coming back in a few weeks to help her mother sort out the house, but Jessi responded noncommittally. “Maybe, sweetie, we’ll see.”

  JUDD WORKED TWO TWENTY-four hour shifts between Monday and Thursday. There was the usual load of heart episodes and drug overdoses, a couple of car accidents, and one particularly nasty dog bite. By Thursday morning, he was happy to be headed home. Following a meal of cold leftover pizza, he promptly passed out.

  When he awoke after sleeping a good ten hours, he laced up his running shoes and headed out back to the beach.

  He’d reread Graham’s list of items again, and for the first time he recognized a pattern. Initially the chores kept him outside, but gradually they would require that he be inside the house. A quick scan to the end of the list showed that the last chore was replacing a ceiling fan in the master bedroom.