Reaching into her purse, Carly fished for her cell phone. But she didn’t know Adam’s number. Not only that, the battery was dead. Even if she did get it charged, with her luck they had probably cut off her service, since she was two months behind in paying the bill.
How had it come to this? Was she really to be reduced to some kind of homeless bag lady sleeping in her car, rummaging through dumpsters behind restaurants in search of stale donuts and open bottles of flat soda?
Stop it. Think. You can get through this. It’s just a setback.
She would wait until the auction house office opened, then she’d just explain the situation and ask if she could be paid early. Reaching for her copy of the contract, which Master Franklin had slipped into the outer pocket of her suitcase the night of the auction, she scanned the document, looking for the payout terms.
She realized she was biting her lower lip and quickly stopped herself. Then she snorted and said aloud, “Fuck you, Adam Wise. I’ll bite my damn lip all I want.”
Just saying his name, though, made tears well in her eyes. Angrily, she wiped them away and forced herself to focus on the contract, just in case she’d missed something she could use to her advantage, but she couldn’t seem to concentrate. Her mind felt as if it were filled with fog.
Coffee, she told herself. I’ll buy a cup of coffee while I wait for the office to open.
Stepping out from the car, she locked the doors and tucked the keys into her purse. It was the first day of autumn, she realized, glancing up at the sunny, blue sky. As if the weather had checked the calendar, today was the first really cool morning of the season, and Carly, wearing only a blouse and jeans, hugged herself, shivering slightly as she crossed the parking lot in the direction of the donut shop located across the street from the auction house.
As she waited in line for her coffee, Carly tried to keep her mind on the future, but the recent past insisted on front and center stage in her brain. She could almost feel Adam’s hands on her breasts. He had beautiful hands, with long, tapered fingers that worked incredible magic on her nipples, teasing and tweaking them until she had felt like she could orgasm just from his touch.
She thought about the spanking that first night—how he’d cupped his palm in such a way to increase the sting, how each smack had reverberated in her cunt, leaving her trembling and moaning, not just from erotic pain, but from a dark desire that burned like smoldering embers deep inside her.
And afterwards—the way he’d held her in his arms, letting her hide her face against his strong, smooth chest. She had felt so safe there, so peaceful, despite her stinging ass and thighs, despite the fact she knew she meant nothing to him. If there was a particular moment when she’d crossed the line in her head, letting her guard down so he could slip inside her dreams, it was that first night when he’d held her so sweetly.
Beyond the sweetness, there was his power and his passion. She’d understood for the first time on a gut level what it meant to submit to a strong, dominant man. He’d pulled reactions and feelings from her she hadn’t realized she was capable of. He’d made her soar on wings of erotic suffering and submission that transcended pain and went beyond pleasure, filling her with an unfamiliar, fierce joy that was as pure and blinding as liquid sunlight.
How was that possible?
How could he have regarded her as just another girl toy, and yet have bound her to him so thoroughly and so completely in just a few days? How was she going to move past him—to forget him, to find the strength to keep going in the face of such a loss?
“What can I get you?”
Carly found herself standing in front of the counter. It took her a second to even remember why she was in line. “Coffee,” she said. “Small, light and sweet.”
“Donuts? Bagels? A breakfast sandwich?” queried the bored teenager behind the counter. Carly’s stomach rumbled at the mention of food, but she shook her head. She’d get something later at a supermarket—something more affordable.
“No thanks, just the coffee.” Carly counted out the coins and placed them on the counter. Once she had her coffee she sat on a stool by the window, staring blankly at the passersby as she sipped the hot, sweet drink, waiting for the auction house doors to open.
When she was done, she went into the public restroom and used the toilet. While washing her hands, she examined herself in the mirror. There were circles under her eyes and her hair was a mess, as usual. She splashed water on her face and rummaged in her purse, using the lipstick she found as rouge, rubbing in the color on her cheekbones and then adding some to her lips. She pulled her fingers through her curls, but quickly gave that up.
She touched the red leather collar still around her neck. The collar! How could she have forgotten her collar? How had Adam forgotten it when he’d sent her away? She reached back beneath her hair, fingering the padlock Adam had placed there that first night.
She realized with a pang that she didn’t want to take it off. At the same time she knew that she would. The collar was a symbol of his ownership, of her submission, of the kind of belonging she’d fooled herself into believing she might actually share with Adam Wise.
He probably had twenty more just like it in some drawer in his big fucking house, ready to place around the next poor idiot’s neck, once he got over his supposed misgivings regarding using another human being like a blow-up fuck toy.
Carly welcomed the anger that was blooming inside her, praying it would push away at least a little bit of her heartbreak and despair.
~*~
Adam walked James and Amy out to their car. “Let us know what’s going on, won’t you, Adam?” Amy said, as he opened her door for her.
“Yeah, I will.”
As soon as I figure it out myself, he thought, as he watched them drive away. He had sent Carly away to protect her. What he’d done was wrong—violating the trust of a person who had literally entrusted him with her life. He’d told himself he was doing the right thing, the noble thing.
He’d told himself a lie.
At the core of this whole thing was his cowardice. He was afraid—no, make that terrified—to love again. Though the setup was a little different—with him actually buying a woman outright with cold hard cash, rather than taking her out for expensive dinners and sending her flowers as part of a seduction he never planned to take past its initial stages—the net result was still the same. He’d used his position and his power to keep anyone from getting too close, and it was a pattern he’d been executing for the last twenty years.
He’d been playing what he’d thought of as an exciting, edgy game, but that game had gotten out of control. It had hurt the first woman to cut her way through what Amy had so aptly called the scar tissue around his heart.
Now he felt raw and exposed—vulnerable in a way he hadn’t experienced in a very long time. And while it scared the shit out of him, something else seemed to be at play, something unfamiliar but not entirely unwelcome.
It took him a while to tease out what the feeling was, this jittery, almost giddy feeling of possibility. He wasn’t completely sure, but he thought it might be…hope.
Adam walked back to the garages and climbed the stairs to the apartment above them where Jordan lived. He knocked on the door and a moment later Jordan pulled it open.
“Hey, boss. What’s up? Did I forget an engagement?”
Adam usually gave Jordan an itinerary for the day via an email the night before. He shook his head. “No. I just wanted to ask you a few questions about this morning.”
“Want to come in? I just made coffee.” Jordan stepped back, gesturing with a hand for Adam to enter.
“No, that’s okay.” Now that he’d made his decision, Adam felt a sense of urgency. “I just need to know where you took Carly this morning. Where did you drop her off?”
“Back to the auction house.”
“The auction house? You didn’t take her to her home?”
Jordan shook his head. “She had me drop her o
ff at her car, which was parked in the back of the lot behind the place.”
“Her car,” Adam repeated. Carly could have gone anywhere from there. Adam had no idea where she lived or worked. He didn’t know if she had siblings, if she’d ever been married, what her favorite food was, or any of the little details that make up a life. How had he spent nearly a week with this woman, almost 24/7, and know next to nothing about her?
“Yeah,” Jordan said. “A real clunker.”
“Excuse me?”
“Her car. At least twenty years old. One of Ford’s crappier models, most of the paint chipped and what’s left faded to a dull gray. There was a clothing rack across the back seat with a bunch of stuff hanging on it. And the rest of the car was crammed full of stuff. Like someone who’s moving across country, or who…” He hesitated.
“Go on,” Adam urged. “What?”
“Like someone who doesn’t have a home. Someone who lives in their car.”
Adam was quiet, absorbing this. Again her words floated back to him—I have nowhere to go.
How was that possible? Carly had been obviously intelligent and educated. She was beautiful and well-spoken. How could someone like that live in their car?
Jordan must have seen the skepticism and confusion on Adam’s face, because he offered, “These days that’s not so unheard of, you know.” As Adam nodded, Jordan continued, “It’s a tough world out there, boss. Lots of people who had good paying jobs for years have found themselves out of work and out of luck. For most people, your last paycheck is it—lose that, and you lose the ability to pay your rent, make your car payment, even buy food for your kids.”
Adam thought about this. While he knew intellectually how lucky he was to have never known a day of want, it had never really struck a visceral chord with him until now. He tried to imagine Carly living and sleeping in her car, and failed. Wherever she was now, it was Adam’s fault. He’d sent away the best thing to ever fall into his life.
His father used to say, “Whoever said money can’t buy you happiness just didn’t have enough money. Money can buy you whatever you want, boy, and don’t you forget it.” Adam hadn’t forgotten it, but for the first time in his life, he found himself questioning his father’s wisdom. Money had “bought” him Carly, but now she was gone, and it might be too late to get her back.
It’s never too late, Adam. Not when love is at stake.
“I’m taking the Porsche,” Adam said. “I won’t need you the rest of the day.”
~*~
Leaving the restroom, Carly saw on the store clock that it was nine o’clock at last. She left the donut shop, heading toward the auction house, determined to make her case.
She didn’t need Adam Wise. She didn’t even want him, not anymore. This past week had been a fantasy—an intense, dark, thrilling, but ultimately empty fantasy. It was time to get back to real life. It was time to move on.
Resolutely, Carly pushed through the glass doors of the auction house building. The reception area looked like any other place of business, with a waiting area of comfortable chairs positioned around a coffee table laden with magazines. The receptionist, a stunning redhead with the elegant voluptuousness of a fifties film star, was seated behind the gleaming silver curve of the high counter, staring intently at her computer monitor.
She looked up as the tinkle of bells on the door signaled Carly’s entry. For a moment her face was a polite blank, and then Gina recognized Carly and she smiled quizzically. “Carly! What’re you doing here? I thought you were on assignment?”
Carly approached the counter, glad they were alone. “I am—er, I was. There was, um, a problem. A situation.” As Gina’s smile faded to a frown, Carly said hurriedly, “I need to talk to Mistress Audrey. Is she available?” Carly didn’t want to speak to Master Franklin. She could already imagine his disapproving countenance as he listened to her. He would instantly assume the fault lay entirely with her. At least with the more compassionate Audrey, Carly felt she had a chance to plead her case.
Gina shook her head. “The trainers aren’t in this week. The next auction isn’t until next month.” She tilted her head toward Carly, her expression sympathetic. “Gee, what happened? Must have been bad, huh, that you’re back so soon?”
Carly nodded glumly. “Yeah,” she whispered, afraid she might burst into tears if she said any more.
Taking pity, Gina said, “Do you want to see Mr. Butler? He’s in. I could see if he’s available." Carly’s stomach sank at the mention of Mr. Butler. Jack Butler was the owner of Erotica Auctions, and Carly had seen enough of him in action to know he was the last person she wanted to talk to.
Over the course of the training week he appeared from time to time to watch one of the slaves being put through her paces. Without exception, his remarks about their behavior were disparaging and dismissive. Toward the end of the week, he’d had the girls line up in a row, while he walked up and down in front of them, noting each one’s imperfections and failures, his words scathing, his tone cutting. When he was done, he turned to the trainers and announced that this was without a doubt the worst crop of slaves the auction house had seen in a decade, and the auction house would be lucky just to make back the money it had invested in trying to train their sorry asses.
Mistress Audrey had later confided to the girls that Mr. Butler said that with every new group of girls—he came from the school of thought that fear and humiliation were the best training tools, something, thankfully, the trainers did not agree with.
Carly started to tell Gina she would check back later, when the door to the back offices opened and Jack Butler appeared. He was a big man, with broad shoulders and a thick neck—the kind of man who had probably been an athlete in his college days, but was now running to fat.
“What seems to be the problem here, Gina,” Mr. Butler began, before cutting himself off as he looked critically at Carly. “You are slave Carly. I recognize you even with your clothes on. What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be out on assignment?”
Seizing the moment, Carly nodded. “Yes, Sir. I’m supposed to be, but there’s, um, there’s been a problem. I was hoping to discuss it with Mistress Audrey or—”
“A problem? Damn right there’s a problem, since you’re standing here in my offices, instead of naked and on your knees in your Master’s home.”
“I need to explain—”
“You do, indeed. Follow me, slave Carly.” Without waiting to see if she obeyed, the man turned and retreated into his office. Carly glanced at Gina, who gave an apologetic shrug. Aware this probably wasn’t going to go well, but not sure what else to do, Carly walked around the reception counter and entered the owner’s gleaming chrome and leather space.
Mr. Butler sat behind a desk made of a huge slab of polished black marble on shiny metal legs. He pointed toward one of the chairs in front of the desk and waited while Carly sat nervously on the edge of the seat.
“Go on,” Mr. Butler said, pursing his lips and tenting his fingers beneath his chin. His pale blue eyes were like chips of flint in his pudgy face. “I’m listening.”
Carly took a deep breath and plunged in, trying to ignore the man’s icy glare. “I’m here because my, uh, Master, decided that this setup wasn’t right for him. He assured me I would be paid in full, but he, uh, he just didn’t want to keep me for the full thirty days.” She felt tears welling in her eyes and blinked them rapidly away, refusing to cry in front of this bastard. “He doesn’t want a refund or anything like that,” she hurried on. “I just wanted to make sure I’d, uh, you know, be paid in full. I could really use the money. I was hoping I could be paid now.”
Her voice had trailed off to a whisper under his stern gaze and she found herself looking down at her lap, feeling like a child making excuses in the principal’s office. A hot tear splashed onto her hands.
“It’s not quite that simple, young lady.” Apparently unmoved, Mr. Butler swiveled toward his computer monitor and began to tap on h
is keyboard. As Carly sat waiting, she felt the impotent anger rising in her like bile, burning in her throat and making her eyes water.
“I see this is your first stint with us. Needless to say it will be your last.”
Carly bit her tongue to keep from retorting that he could bet his ass it would be her last. He hadn't said no yet. She clung to that thread of hope and kept her mouth shut while he continued to tap away at his computer.
Finally he reached for the telephone on his desk and pushed the intercom button.
“Yes, sir?” Carly heard Gina say from the other room.
“Get me client Adam Wise on the phone. You can put it directly through.” He turned to Carly, his tone cold. “I’m sure you appreciate I need to speak with your Master before we go any further. For all I know, you are in disgrace and running from that fact, trying to collect on services you’ve failed to render.”
Indignant, Carly began, “No, that isn’t—”
“Silence,” the man roared, holding his palm outward in her direction. “While in this auction house, you are a slave, and you will behave accordingly, regardless of whether you failed in your duties elsewhere.”
“I didn’t—”
The phone on the man’s desk rang, and he reached for it, cutting Carly off with his brusque, “Yes?” He listened a moment and then said, “Very well, call back and leave him a message to call me as soon as possible regarding the matter of his contract with Erotica Auctions.”
Hanging up the phone, he turned back to Carly. “As I said, I will need to speak with your Master to determine the veracity of your claims. If he corroborates your story, you will be paid at the end of the term, a little more than three weeks’ time. If he has any complaint whatsoever about your training or behavior, the payment terms of the contract as far as you are concerned are rendered null and void. You knew that going in, slave Carly. A good slave pleases her Master in all things. You clearly failed to do so.”
The Auction Page 14