Last Dance for Cadence

by Maren Smith

  She smiled and waved again. “Hi.”

  Wondering why they were being introduced, Cadence waved back with two fingers.

  “She’s going to be your mentor while you’re here.”

  Cadence felt her face harden. “And why do I need one of those?”

  “Everyone who comes here gets a mentor, dominant or submissive, it doesn’t matter. The transition—”

  “I don’t need anybody,” Cadence said abruptly.

  Beside her, Venia sighed. “Cady…”

  “I don’t need a mentor.” Cadence tried to laugh, hoping to diffuse the strain she could feel tightening all around her. “No offense,” she told Lizzy, who was still smiling, albeit wanly, as if she’d heard all this before. “Why do I need a mentor? I’m not a dominant or a submissive.” Her face flushed hot just to say the word. “I don’t have any interest in being spanked.” By Marcus’s broad capable hands, or anyone else’s. Her bottom crawled as if covered in a swarm of frantic ants. She lost the fight not to squirm. She laughed again, hoping no one noticed how high and frantic that was starting to sound now too. “I’m not judging. I just don’t see why I should have to participate in order to work here.”

  Brent held her gaze. “You don’t. However, you’re not just working here, you’re living here too. Since we are no longer talking about an extended visit, we do expect you to live by our rules. Marcus.” Shifting his gaze past her to the doctor, Brent asked, “You’re bringing her into your household, so all of this is dependent on how comfortable you are with the arrangement.”

  “I’ll say it again.” When Marcus shifted in the seat beside her, her whole body felt the heat in that slight brush of his arm against hers. “I don’t expect there to be any problems.” Brent gave him a look at that, but Marcus held up a staying hand. “Incidents are going to occur, of course. So long as she’s willing to abide by the rules of my house, as well as the community standards, then yes, I am willing to take a risk here.”

  The doctor looked at her, his eyes like gray flames searing straight in through the surface of her to ignite in her core, a combustion of heat that licked out in conjunction with the knots tightening in the pit of her belly. Glancing from one to the other with slightly increasing alarm, Cadence hesitantly raised her hand. “So what you’re saying is, if I, hypothetically, break a community rule, then he’s going to spank me and I have to let him?”

  “No,” both men said at once.

  “Not everything deserves a spanking,” Brent added.

  “But, who gets to decide that? I mean…is there a committee, or…”

  “Yes.” Brent nodded. “The Discipline Board, of which I am also a member.”

  “It won’t go that far,” Marcus said smoothly. “I would take care of the matter before it did.”

  Beginning to pick up on the subtleties of the lingo, Cadence fought not to squirm in her chair. “And if I do something at your house that you don’t like, then you’re going to spank me then too, right?”

  “If I deem anything you do deserving of discipline, then I will tell you so. But,” Marcus said, stressing the qualifier, “I’ve already told you I’m not going to spank you without your consent. Not one swat.”

  She looked at him, tilting her head slightly sideways, a niggling sinking sensation tugging at her insides. “But if I say no, then there will be consequences,” she guessed.

  The look Marcus gave her was all the affirmation she needed. “If you break my rules and refuse to accept the appropriate disciplinary measures, then you’ll leave me no choice but to fire you.”

  “And if you are no longer working in Corbin’s Bend,” Brent added, “then I see no reason for you to remain living here. Also, should you break the laws set down for the safety and benefit of those who make this community their refuge and their home, and then refuse the appropriate disciplinary measures, then I will personally see you to the gates.”

  “You’ll evict me?”

  “In a heartbeat.” Brent folded his hands on the table. “It’s not that I mean to be unfriendly, Miss…?”

  “Westmore,” Cadence offered faintly. She felt sucker punched by the finality with which her options were being laid out before her. “Cadence Westmore.”

  “It’s not that I mean to be unfriendly, Miss Westmore.” His tone even softened, though his expression remained as hard and as unyielding as the Colorado mountains themselves. “But my first loyalty lies with the people here, and I will not tolerate our laws being flaunted or anyone here being made to feel like an outsider by someone who doesn’t understand our choice in lifestyle.”

  Cadence stared at them both, the heat and the knots in her belly warring until she felt almost sick with it. Venia reach over to touch her leg and Cadence jumped.

  “She’s not like that,” Venia said firmly, giving her thigh a comforting squeeze. “My Cady is not a troublemaker.” Swiveling in her chair, to Cadence she said, “We’re not ogres or monsters, honey. No one is going to jump on you for the slightest little mistake. We’re talking about common sense stuff. You know, theft, vandalism—”

  “Drunken gun twirlies?” she asked, even more weakly than before.

  Venia gestured at her. “See? Things you would never do in a million years!”

  Cadence really did feel sick now. She’d awakened this morning for the first time in many long months feeling hopeful. She had the job of a lifetime, complete with room, board and a paycheck. And yeah, it wasn’t dancing, but it was something. Now what was she supposed to do? Give it all up? Move back to Denver? With what money? In a car that had been one roll of duct-tape and a prayer away from its final breakdown for the last six months, and now which wouldn’t start?

  Without this job she could pretty much kiss her chances of getting back up on her own two feet, both figuratively and financially, goodbye. Without at least one good paycheck, she definitely would have to kiss her mother’s pawned ring goodbye. That was a hurt she felt as physically as a knife in the chest.

  She couldn’t do that. She just couldn’t.

  She wouldn’t. Not if she could in any way help it.

  She looked at Marcus and then at Brent. Squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, she said, “Can Mama Venia be my mentor? No offense,” she told Lizzy, across the table. “It’s just, this is a lot of strangeness to take in all at once and I think if I have to talk to someone, then I’d really like to talk to someone I know.”

  “No offense taken,” Lizzy replied. Standing up, she pulled out her wallet to fish a business card from the folds. “Here, take this anyway. If you find yourself ever wanting to talk about something, maybe, you don’t feel comfortable talking to Venia about, just give me a call. I promise, I’d love to hear from you.”

  Cadence made herself smile, but inside all she could think was, it wasn’t going to happen. She just couldn’t see herself wanting to talk to anyone about any of this.

  “Thanks for coming, Lizzy,” Brent said when she excused herself from the table.

  She gave them all a smile and wave, then left, and Brent got down to the business of passing out forms. Cadence had to apply for membership, although, as Venia said, that was just a formality at this point. Since her living arrangements would be provided by the doctor, Brent said, she wasn’t eligible for any of the specialized housing arrangements provided to the other residents.

  As she was signing the packet of documents that claimed she solemnly swore to abide by all the codes and covenants that governed the impeccably calm and tidy community of Corbin’s Bend, Marcus leaned in close to her and said, “Breathe, Cadence. Just breathe. It’ll be all right.”

  She managed another grimace of a smile as she took her initiation packet from Brent. A booklet titled ‘Rules and Regulations’ came with it. Cadence didn’t have time to look at it there in the Community Center, but she did thumb through it on the ride back home. As it so happened, ‘No Drunken Gun Twirlies’ wasn’t, in so many words, listed anywhere within that booklet. Maybe because they
thought as such would be covered by the ‘No Public Intoxication’ or maybe because it was more of a banishment-type offense than a spanking one, or maybe because, seriously, did anyone really need to be told not to do that?

  As she sat reading through endless pages of mentally-overwhelming legalese, Cadence couldn’t help but wonder what other spanking offenses might be missing from this book. She tried hard not to look at Marcus then, but, as he turned off the residential street back into his driveway, tapping the automatic garage door to open and accept them, she guessed she was about to find out.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The first order of business was the kitchen and Cadence tackled it with all the enthusiasm of a woman with corporeal punishment paper packets on the foot of her bed that needed forgetting about. She washed the dishes, wiped the peanut butter and jelly and greasy finger prints off the lower cabinet doors, rescued a three-inch plastic T-Rex from the cheese bin in the fridge and answered the phone three different times, reciting in soothing but cheerful tones, “Dr. Devon’s office. He’s currently with a patient right now. May I take a message?”

  Almost invariably, that was followed by, “This is Cadence, his new housekeeper.”

  Which was just as inevitably followed by, “Yes, thank you. I’m glad he hired me too.”

  Once she’d swept and mopped the kitchen floor, she tackled the living room. There were enough cheerios in the sofa cushions and under the coffee table to feed a small country and enough little green army men to safeguard the supplies. She had to empty out the vacuum before she could tackle the carpet (finding eleven cents, two more army men and a marble in the process), and although it killed her legs to remain kneeling that long, she was incredibly proud of the fact that she was able to scrub out two of the three juice stains around the sofa.

  At noon, she made lunch out of what she found in the fridge: ham and cheese sandwiches with baby carrots and sweet, green grapes. Personally, she hated carrots, but she was incredibly conscientious of the fact that this was the first nutritious meal she would be setting out before Marcus and she wanted to make as good of an impression as his virtually non-existent stable of groceries would allow.

  In the end, Marcus barely came out of his office long enough to grab two bites, the carrots and grapes, his messages, and then he went right back to work when a frantic young mother and two crying children came through the front door, the toddler coughing long and hard before sucking in a loud whoop of air and coughing all over again. She continued to hear that whooping for several cringingly long minutes after Marcus took them into his office and closed the door.

  After spending so much time kneeling in the living room, climbing the stairs to the second floor was a lesson in pain not even two Advil all day could touch. Cadence did it anyway. Starting with the boys’ room, she spent a good hour picking up toys and clothes and only yelped once when emptying out muddy pockets revealed a disembodied tail. Where the rest of the lizard had got to was anybody’s guess, but she sincerely hoped it wasn’t somewhere in this bedroom.

  She made the two lower beds, but had to climb up into the bunk bend to reach the top mattress. After that, she adjourned herself to the next room. In contrast, Marcus’s bedroom was extremely neat and tidy. Feeling very much as if she were trespassing where she shouldn’t be, she made his bed for him and then straightened up the master bathroom. That was pretty tidy too. She hung the bathrobe that had been left wadded up on top of the counter on the hook behind the bathroom door, then put the deodorant and hairbrush up on the shelf by the mirror. This felt very much like trespassing, but as she picked up his cologne, she found herself testing the heady scent. Oh yeah, this was his, all right. She liked it.

  Like she had any business sniffing any of his personal effects. She quickly cleaned the bathroom and got out. The playroom looked like a tornado had hit it and it was getting late. The boys would be home soon and she had no idea what she was going to do for supper. Unless there was something in the freezer, it was going to be ham and cheese sandwiches again.

  With her arms laden with the boys’ dirty clothes, she made it halfway down the stairs before the front door burst open and Buddy, the youngest Devon, exploded into the house, backpack bouncing on his shoulders and a crumpled piece of paper clutched in his hand. He took one look at her and, although his excitement never completely dissipated, it diminished. He looked to his father’s closed office door and then looked back up the stairs at her, his little fingers worrying at the edges of his crumpled paper.

  Say something, Cadence told herself, staring helplessly down at that alien little boy. “Close the door, please. We don’t want to air-condition the entire neighborhood.”

  Good lord, it was like channeling the spirit of her mother.

  Buddy blinked at her twice and then gave the wide-open door the same look. He started back toward it, but just then his two brothers stepped across the threshold.

  “I’ve got it,” the eldest, Michael, said, and closed the door. “Hi, Cadence.”

  “Hi, Cadence,” echoed the middle boy, Daniel. “What’s for dinner?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I was just about to go check the kitchen.”

  “We’re going to go watch TV,” Michael informed her, already heading for the back family room.

  She was so far out of her comfort element, she had no idea what she was doing. “Homework first,” she nevertheless called after him.

  “They don’t give homework on the last day of school,” Michael called back over his shoulder on his way to the living room.

  Oh. Of course.

  “They actually give us book reports, but we’ve got all summer long to do it.” Giving her one last look, Daniel disappeared after his brother. That left Buddy, still standing at the bottom of the stairs, gazing up at her with big eyes while he worried the edges of his paper.

  He was a little boy, not a bomb. She couldn’t just stand here all day, either. Flashing him what she hoped was a reassuring ‘I’m completely harmless’ smile, Cadence started down the stairs again. With her arms full and no hand free to grip the railing, it was a slow process and one that made her feel all of two years old. She took each step one at a time, leaning one shoulder against the wall at all times and making sure both feet were solid on the stair beneath her before attempting the next one. The horrible image of her knee buckling out from under her and sending her tumbling headlong down to the floor right in front of Buddy was a constant in her mind.

  “You dropped some,” Buddy finally offered, hesitantly pointing up the stairs behind her.

  When Cadence looked back, it was all she could do not to just drop everything right there and give up. There was a trail of socks, underwear and a sports jersey leading back the way she’d come. Her legs were killing her.

  “I’ll get them.” Buddy shot up the stairs, dropping to hands and knees as he crawled under her loaded arms and squeezed in between her and the banister. He ran all the way back to his room, starting at the beginning as he scooped up fallen clothes and following the fabric trail back to her like a storybook Hansel.

  “Thank you, Buddy.” She tried not to sound depressed, but she was exhausted and hurting more than she’d realized she would be, and she hadn’t even put in a full day’s work yet.

  “You’re welcome.” Buddy followed her down the stairs, occasionally bending to pick up the next falling sock.

  She could feel herself slowing down. It took almost a full minute for her to descend those last six steps to the ground floor, and there was still dinner left to wade through.

  “Do you like progress reports, Cadence?” Buddy asked, following her back through the kitchen to the laundry room.

  “Sure, I do.” So long as it wasn’t hers and it wasn’t bad. Making a halfhearted attempt to sort the laundry, she started the first wash load, tackling the boys’ muddy jeans. When Buddy held out his own bundle of clothes, she took them from him, dumping almost all of it in the washing machine, apart from one bright red sock. What was the
likelihood that the other red sock was in with the jeans? Sighing, Cadence delved in amongst the dirty clothes in search of it. She found it and when she straightened back up, there was Buddy still, standing just behind her, watching her with his paper clutched between his hands. “Don’t you want to go watch TV with your brothers?”

  He shook his head.

  She looked at that paper. “Is that your progress report?”

  He nodded.

  In the slightly dim light of the laundry room, it was amazing how much like his father he looked. A little miniature Marcus with big gray eyes and short dark hair. The nose and chin might have been his mother’s, but the rest of his little face was all his father’s influence.

  “Do you want to show it to me?”

  Buddy didn’t move. “I have to show it to Dad first. Dad always sees it first. Do you like little kids?”

  “To be honest, I haven’t met that many. Not since I was a little kid too.”

  “How did you hurt your legs?”

  “I got hit by a car.”

  Buddy brightened slightly. “I got hit by a car once too. We were in a parking lot and I wasn’t watching where I was going and this lady was getting out and—bam!—I walked right into her door. See?” He grinned, showing a decisive lack in both upper front teeth. “Knocked them clean out. Dad says it was me that hit the car, so it doesn’t count, but it was still a hit so I think it should.”

  “Ouch,” Cadence said, still staring at his lack of teeth.