by Paul Preston
“Oh I see. An angle? So, as usual, it’s all about the money with men. How could I not have noticed this flaw in your character? We’ve been dating for two months! Why didn’t I see this emphasis on materialism in your chart? I guess I was blinded by my feelings for you.”
“Amy, you mean more to me than this club. I really like you a lot. I swear to you I will sell this business in a heartbeat if you don’t approve of it.”
“It’s too late. Even if you sold it tomorrow, the damage to our relationship has already been done.”
“What? Come on Amy. We have a nice relationship, don’t we?”
“Jim… Were you hoping that I would be the kind of woman… who would allow you to do those humiliating things?”
“No, of course not Amy.”
“Did you want me to tie me up and spank me? Or sell me to some man like a whore? In public?”
“No, of course not.”
“To watch me be fondled by a group of disgusting men?”
“No!”
“Did you ever fantasize about tying me up, Jim?”
“Fantasize about it? Well…”
“I guess there’s my answer.”
“You know I would never do anything to make you feel nervous or uncomfortable. You have to trust me Amy. Haven’t I earned your trust?”
“Whatever trust you earned is broken now.”
“Amy…”
She stood up from the couch and walked over to the door. I followed her. She turned to me.
“Jim… Did you ever… do anything… in this office?”
“I’m not sure I know what you -”
“It’s just a simple yes or no answer, Jim. Did you ever engage in sex with anyone in this office?”
“Sex?”
“Yes or no…”
“Yes…”
“I see. What was her name?”
“Her name was Grace. Grace Madsen.”
“Was she… what’s the word… your submissive?”
“No. It wasn’t like that. We were friends. I only knew her for a short period of time. Just a few days, really.”
“Did you love this woman Jim? Did you?”
“Yes,” I admitted, quietly.
“You fall in love with women rather easily it seems…”
Amy reached into her faded jeans and held out a set of keys in her hand.
“Take them.”
“The studio was my gift to you, Amy. Your birthday gift.”
“It was purchased with dirty money. I don’t want it. Take the keys.”
“They’re not mine to take. Your name is on the ownership documents.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“I won’t take it back.”
“Then I will pay you back every penny of the purchase price back, with interest.”
“That’s not necessary.”
Suddenly tears filled Amy’s eyes and slid out in wet streaks down her cheeks. She turned to leave. I reached out and touched her arm.
“Amy, please don’t go like this. I was hoping we could… you know, start over and forget about all this. With the money from the sale of this club we could start a Charitable Foundation. We could eventually get married…”
“Jim…”
“Raise a family. I think we could be very happy together. Please Amy, you mean everything to me. If you could just overlook this one thing we could do great things together.”
“You know Jim, no matter how many lunches you serve or how much money you donate, you can’t undo the damage you’ve done here.”
“Amy…”
“I’m sorry but… I don’t want to see you anymore Jim…”
Hearing the dreaded words I tried to respond, but words didn’t come out.
“I will arrange the monthly payments to be transferred into your account through your lawyer. It might take quite some time before -”
“Amy, the yoga studio was a gift. You don’t have to-”
“And just for the record, I’m not breaking up with you because of the way you look. Despite your scar I think you’re a very attractive man on the outside Jim. I’m just not attracted to who you are on the inside… Goodbye Jim…”
Amy looked at me over her shoulder once more and turned away. I followed her through the bar and out of the front entrance. She never looked back. I watched as her car drove out of the parking lot and merged with traffic. Then I walked back inside the club toward my office. As I passed the bar and glanced at my reflection in the mirror, I saw the scar and the red skin puckered across my face. I paused for a moment and traced the crescent-shaped slash with my fingertips. For the first time since I was a kid, I felt the pain of the knife again, cutting me. Not on the outer surface of my face, but somewhere under the skin. Deep inside.
Chapter Five
Grace
After Amy was gone I locked myself inside my office, staring at the security screens on my computer. After closing I left Obsessions and drove off into the dark cold night. I wanted one thing and one thing only. I wanted to find a woman. I wanted to take her back to my apartment and undress her. I wanted to tie her up on my bed, her wrists and ankles securely fastened to my bedposts. I wanted to fondle her, kiss her and have sex with her. And I wanted that woman to be Grace Madsen.
I drove aimlessly on the outskirts of Chicago. In the distance I saw the shining neon cross advertising the First Assembly Church of God. I exited the freeway, passed the Target and then pulled into the empty parking lot of the church. I parked and stared up at the massive concrete structure where I had last seen Grace, worshipping with her husband. I smoked a cigarette.
It was almost midnight when I drove back to my neighborhood. I stopped at a convenience store, bought two packs of Marlboros and then drove to a bar near my condo and parked. I didn’t see the point in getting out of my car. I knew there was no chance in Hell I’d be able to pick up a woman with the way I looked. After another moment of staring at the entrance of the bar I went home.
The next day I drove to Amy’s yoga studio on my way to work and sat in my car in the parking lot, hoping to catch a glimpse of her through the window. I thought if I could try to talk to her one more time perhaps she could give our relationship another chance.
A class must have just ended and a group of people filed out of the front door. A moment later I saw Amy come out with the student I recognized from the class she had taught at Equinox. She looked rather happy for someone who had just gone through an emotional break-up less than 24 hours earlier. They briefly chatted. Amy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. I saw the man lean forward, kiss Amy tenderly on the lips and walk to his car. I watched the guy get in his Prius. Amy went back into her yoga studio. With surgical precision, Amy cut me out of her life, just like Bette did. She never came back to volunteer at the soup kitchen and I never saw or spoke to her again.
More bad shit happened when I got to work. I called my friend Big Johnnie since I hadn’t spoken to him for a while. Our friendship had cooled off over the past few months for some reason. I knew his wife didn’t approve of our friendship and was apparently upset that I kept inviting him to my disreputable club. In our last phone call a few weeks ago Big Johnnie broke the news that Bette had gotten remarried, to another cop of course. The news was not unexpected, but it still took the wind out of me, like a punch to the guts.
When Big J answered he sounded sort of cold to me on the phone, like he wasn’t in the mood to talk. I asked him if anything was wrong.
“You want to know if there’s something wrong, you pain in the ass? Shit yeah, there’s something wrong.”
“What is it?”
“You blabbed to the Squad Commander how you knew about your old partner getting written up. I had to sit in his office, look him in the eye and lie to his face when he asked how you found out about it. Jones is no dummy. He knows I’m the only one who still talks to you. I told you that in confidence. What the fuck were you thinking? You could’ve gotten me kicked off the force. The
n I’d end up just like you.”
I wanted to tell my friend I was just trying to use the information to get my old job back, but I thought it best to let it lie.
“Johnnie… I’m sorry… you know… I didn’t think.”
“Yeah. That’s right. You didn’t think…”
An awful silence followed. I tried to change the subject.
“So, anyway Big J, how’s everything -”
When I heard the phone click, I realized I had lost the only friend I had in the world.
Soon after I impulsively decided to sell Obsessions to the Board and let them do whatever the hell they wanted with it, even if it meant opening franchises all over the country, like some kind of perverse Chuck-E-Cheese for adults. I didn’t care. I just wanted to cash out, wash my hands of the whole business before the end of the year and move to a new location to start my life over where no one could find me. My lawyer negotiated the price and a meeting to sign the sales documents and officially transfer ownership of Obsessions was set for two days before Christmas, December 23, 2013.
On that evening I used the back entrance, so the staff didn’t see me carrying a cardboard box inside to clean out my desk. I had been procrastinating the inevitable meeting where I planned to tell the staff that Obsessions was to be sold. The only thing I insisted upon in the sales contract was that everyone retained their same jobs. I decided to just clean out my desk, sign the contract and disappear into the night. I know it was dishonest and cowardly of me to not tell the staff in person, but I couldn’t face them.
Once I opened the drawers of my desk, I realized I had very little to put into the box. There were mostly old papers and receipts I had kept for tax purposes and the information I had kept in files on all the patrons. There was an object covered by papers at the bottom of the drawer which I fished out. It was the book “50 Shades of Gray” that had given me the idea to open Obsessions. Rather than putting it in the box with the papers, I tossed it in the waste basket, along with everything else I didn’t need any more. The only papers left were the pages of the Dominant/submissive Contract I had printed out on a whim after my date with Janet. I took the contract out to look at it once more before throwing them away. Then I got a text from my bartender that a large group of gentlemen arrived, asking for me. I dropped the papers on my desk and went out to meet the gentlemen.
The place was crowded as usual, so we sat at the bar. The sales document was laid out neatly on the smooth wood, with those little sticky tabs poking out, earmarking the pages where I needed to initial and sign. I poured out shots for everyone so we could have a drink after we transferred ownership. Cigars were passed out among the men and were ready to be lit. I looked around the club once more at the chains dangling from the ceiling, the scantily clad women, the Doms and the subs. It wasn’t really such a bad place, I thought. No one had ever gotten hurt during my tenure, no one left too intoxicated to drive home and sexual fantasies of a taboo nature were consensually fulfilled within the secret walls. I picked up the pen to sign over ownership of the club.
Then something extraordinary happened. As the rounded point of the pen touched the paper, my hand began to tremble slightly. My heart started pounding and I felt the blood surge through my veins. I looked toward the front entrance, the door opened slowly and Grace Madsen entered.
She stood at the entrance with lips slightly parted like a kid at a candy store, sweeping her eyes over the interior of Obsessions. She was dressed rather conservatively in a black skirt, a white cardigan, unassuming black shoes and a simple grey wool coat. My mind flashed upon the last time Grace entered my club four months ago, adorned by nothing but two blue teardrop shaped crystals hanging enticingly off the nipples of her bare breasts and a matching pair of pendants dangling from the moist open curves of her labium. Now the wonderfully full and lively breasts I remembered so vividly were clamped down tightly to her chest by some kind of thick, old fashioned brassiere and the pretty legs I recalled were well covered by the shapeless skirt that fell well below her knees. She closed the door behind her and stood shyly against the wall, looking completely out of place and ignored by the patrons. As she looked around the club our eyes met. She smiled at me in such an indescribably tender and intimate way it literally stopped my heart. The pen was still poised on the contract and the agent representing the buyers spoke up, wondering why I had hesitated in signing it.
“Mr. Jefferson, if you have any questions regarding the clause on the first page of the contract, I’d be happy to explain it to you. I can assure you that I’ve gone over the contract quite thoroughly and in great detail with your lawyer and he informed me he has advised you on -”
I abruptly dropped the pen on the bar and stood up, interrupting him.
“Excuse me for a moment, gentlemen.”
The men may have said something to me, but I didn’t hear them. I slipped through the crowd and approached Grace. I caught myself doing something I rarely allow myself to do. I was smiling.
“Grace... Hi.”
“Hi James. I hope you’re not busy. Did I come at a bad time?”
“No, not at all. What can I do for you?”
Grace looked around her nervously.
“Well, my husband happens to be gone on a hunting trip for the weekend with a few of his army buddies and I was in the neighborhood on the way to a prayer meeting, so I thought I’d drop by to say hello.”
“I’m glad you did Grace. It’s so great to see you.”
“I saw you at our church in early October around seven weeks ago? Was that you James?”
“It was me.”
“When I looked up again you were gone. Why did you leave?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I lied. “I guess I had an appointment, I think.”
“James?... Would you care to accompany me to my prayer group this evening? It lasts about an hour. Then I thought we could go get a bite to eat and catch up. Would you like to? Of course, I can understand if you’re busy.”
“No, I’m not busy at all Grace. I’d love to come with you. Just let me just wrap up a few things here. I’ll be right back. Wait for me right here.”
“Great,” she said, smiling widely.
I walked back to the group and picked up my jacket from behind the bar where I left it.
“I’m sorry gentlemen, but something’s come up. I have to go.”
Several men spoke at once in a cacophony of irritated voices as I turned away.
“What?”
“The contract.”
“You didn’t sign the contract.”
“Mr. Jefferson.”
“Wait!”
Their voices faded as I walked across the bar to join Grace.
“Ready?” she said.
“Yes,” I replied.
“I hope I’m not inconveniencing you, James.”
“No, not at all. Let’s go.”
“I’m in a white Hondo Civic. Follow me.”
“Lead the way.”
I followed her onto the highway, forgetting to ask her where the prayer meeting was located. We were only driving for a few minutes when suddenly she exited the freeway. I followed Grace into the dark parking area of some sort of seedy budget hotel. The building was a two story structure, shaped in a rectangle. There certainly were no prayer meetings going on in there.
Grace got out and went into the door marked “lobby” and I followed behind. As I went in she was speaking to an old grizzled man behind a plate of glass. When Grace saw me she waved.
“Oh, hello honey. We can’t reserve a room without a credit card and I forgot mine. Did you bring yours, dear?”
“Sure,” I said, playing along.
“It’s only $79 a night. Isn’t that reasonable?”
I didn’t know what to say so the old man chimed in.
“It doesn’t look like much from the outside, but it has nice amenities. A soda and ice machine is right over there under the stairway. Driver’s license and major credit card please.
“Are you staying just one night?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Just one night.”
He swiped my card.
“I’ve got to take $200 out to hold, in case of damages. It will go back on your card when you check out.”
“OK,” I said.
He passed out room keys through the slot of the window.
“Your room’s on the second floor. 217. Check out is at 11AM. They’ll be some coffee and pastries in the office here tomorrow morning, so help yourself.”
“Thanks,” I said.
We walked silently up the stairs and I opened the door. We went in and Grace sat down at a table, while I stood awkwardly next to the bed. The room was a little musty, but looked fairly clean inside.
“I think I’ll get some ice. Would you like a soda Grace?”
“OK,” she said, looking down.
I walked over to the ice and soda machine and picked out a variety of drinks, not knowing which she’d prefer and filled the plastic bucket with ice. Suddenly I felt nervous that Grace may have slipped away and wouldn’t be in the room when I returned. I practically sprinted down the pathway and up the steps, fumbling with the keys while trying to hold the ice bucket and sodas. I felt relieved when I saw Grace seated in the same position I had left her. She looked sad, her eyes downcast.
“I didn’t know what you’d like, so I got a few different kinds. Coke. Sprite. I think this one’s an orange soda.”
“Thank you James. Orange soda, I guess.”
I poured out the sodas in the little hotel glasses and added ice. I sat down in the other chair near her and handed her the drink.
“Here Grace.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We sat in awkward silence, sipping our drinks.
“It’s sure great to see you again Grace.
She smiled without showing her teeth.
“You seem sad or upset about something. What is it?” I asked.