Longing: Club Inferno

by Jamie K. Schmidt

  “Of course he is,” Anya said, and stepped on the scale.

  Same as yesterday.

  Panic fluttered in her chest. It must have been the salt from the drinks last night. She was retaining water. Or maybe the alcohol slowed her metabolism.

  “Come on, sister, I don’t have all day.”

  “I’m down five pounds,” she lied.

  Trey grunted. “Good. Keep it up. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  Anya sank down on the bathroom floor, dejected. It didn’t make any sense. She should have been burning calories, not plateauing. She concentrated on drinking her water and made sure to eat as little as possible. She wasn’t eating anything and she felt like a cranky bitch. Isn’t that what dieting was all about? If she saw another celery stalk she’d run the other way screaming.

  It took another two hours of pampering and primping until she felt normal again. Her schedule was free, but after the gut-wrenching number on the scale, Anya didn’t feel like seeking Clint out. She tanked a breakfast drink and made a face. It was time to get serious with the exercising.

  Since she’d missed her yoga class, she headed straight for the gym. Two models she recognized from a few magazine shoots were on the elliptical. They didn’t look up from the game show playing on the television on the wall. Anya spent an hour on the treadmill; toward the end she was getting light-headed so she refilled her water bottle after draining it in a few long gulps.

  She hated exercising. It was supposed to energize you and make you feel refreshed. Bullshit. Anya was tired and cranky. Her back hurt. Dragging herself back to her room, she almost stepped on an envelope that had been slid under her door. Anya closed the door and locked it, stifling a yawn. Carrying the square envelope into the bathroom, she turned on the shower so it got nice and hot. Stripping down, she stepped on the scale. Now it said she had gained two pounds.

  “I hate you,” she told it.

  She opened up the envelope, and a CD slid out. No, a DVD. In marker it had last night’s date on it and “Password = Last night’s drink.”

  “What the hell?”

  She let the shower run while she pulled on a robe and fired up her computer. She slotted the disc in and sure enough a password request came up. Since the only drink she’d had was shots of tequila, Anya typed it in.

  Was this from Clint?

  Her lips filled the screen. The shower grew cold as she watched the movie Clint had made of them.

  Holy shit.

  Anya started to hyperventilate and scurried to her phone.

  Who else has this movie? she texted Clint.

  She started pulling clothes out. She was going to find him and then she was going to kill him. Fortunately, he texted back right away.

  Just me. And it will stay that way.

  Anya dialed the phone. “I did not give you permission to film me!” she shouted into the phone. She winced at her shrill tone.

  “That was our scene. If you want me to destroy my DVD, I will. There are only two copies.” His voice was calm and sincere. She caught a hint of amusement in it. Was he laughing at her? Did he show it to all the Doms to get a kick out of it? Look at the fat chick I had jiggling around last night.

  Anya closed her eyes and reminded herself that Clint wasn’t a jerk. And more important, Colleen wouldn’t hire anyone without a substantial background check. Of course all that meant was if he was a criminal, he hadn’t gotten caught.

  “Yes,” she said, cradling her stomach. She was going to be sick. “Please destroy it.”

  “Of course. Did you like it?”

  “No,” Anya said, staring at the image of her splayed out with an erotic, satisfied smile on her face. Truthfully, she hadn’t really seen it. She had been too shocked.

  “Why not?” His voice was warm and affectionate.

  It snapped her back into her anger. “Because you took advantage of me.”

  “What?” Clint sounded horrified.

  Welcome to the club.

  “I trusted you.” Tears filled her eyes. If this got out on the Internet, she’d be so ashamed.

  “How did I betray that trust?” Horror faded to what sounded like confusion.

  “You took pictures of me without my consent.”

  “That recording is for your eyes and my eyes only. Now that I’ve erased my copy, it’s there only for yours.”

  “H-how do I know that?” Anya stammered out.

  In the silence, she wanted to take those words back but she also wanted to know the answer.

  “How can I convince you?” he finally said. His voice was devoid of warmth or humor.

  Anya wasn’t sure. She could ask to see the destroyed disc or the camera, but he had plenty of time to make a backup.

  “Why don’t we talk to Colleen?” he said. “I’ll make an appointment with her for this afternoon.” He hung up.

  Colleen? What did she have to do with anything?

  Anya popped the disc out and tossed it in the trash can, then thought better of it and put it in a drawer. She might need it for evidence or something. Closing her eyes, she swayed a bit. Her head ached.

  He texted. Three o’clock. Colleen’s office.

  —

  Cranky from her cold shower and creamless coffee, Anya, fortified with ibuprofen, strode into Colleen’s office and quickly lost her anger when she caught Nefertiti crying softly.

  “What happened?” she asked, going to her friend.

  “It’s nothing,” Nefertiti said. “Stupid Facebook video of a soldier surprising his kid. My hormones are all over the place.” She wiped her eyes.

  Anya forced her own eyes from the box of chocolates on Nefertiti’s desk. “Is Colleen in?”

  “She’s on a conference call. I keep hearing her swear a blue streak, so I think she’s talking to Chase Fairwood.”

  Anya perched a hip on the desk, interested in spite of herself. “I thought that ship had sailed.”

  “Looks like it’s back in port. He donated a shitload of cash to Mallory’s shelter. It allowed them to put in the clinic that we went to.”

  “How much is a shitload?”

  “Enough that she’s taking his calls again.”

  Anya ran her fingers over Nefertiti’s desk, remembering Clint’s kissing her there. It had been a nice beginning to a fun time. She’d figured maybe there would be feathers and candle wax along the way. Anya hadn’t expected to be dumped into the kink with a film of her getting off. She knew she’d overreacted, but he had surprised her. It was such a shock seeing herself so open and bodacious. It brought back old suspicions that she was being made fun of. But now that she thought about it, Clint hadn’t been laughing. It probably would have been sexy to watch the video together.

  “Why so glum?”

  Shrugging, Anya crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I made a mistake.”

  Nefertiti leaned back in her chair. “Oh yeah? What happened?”

  Clint walked in and gave her a curt nod before sinking into a chair and crossing a leg over his knee. He glared at her and then pulled out his phone, ignoring her.

  Anya traded glances with Nefertiti.

  “You want to grab dinner later?” Nefertiti asked.

  Yes! her whole body screamed.

  “I can’t. Trey’s on my ass to lose weight. He’s calling me at six every morning for the daily weigh-in.”

  “That sucks. But you still have to eat.”

  “I’m doing a liquid thing.”

  Nefertiti wrinkled her nose. “It’s not safe. Or long-term.”

  “It doesn’t have to be. I just have to sign the contract.”

  The buzzer sounded on Nefertiti’s desk. “Are they here?” Colleen’s voice was tinny over the little speaker.

  “Yes.”

  “Send them in.”

  Anya didn’t look at Clint as he held the door open for her. He closed it behind them and took a seat. Going over to the bar, she grabbed a diet cola and offered one to Colleen.

  “I’m good,�
� Colleen said. “Now, what’s this I hear about a dungeon scene going wrong?”

  Clint looked at Anya expectantly.

  Anya glanced away. “It didn’t go wrong. I just wasn’t aware I was going to be filmed.”

  “So what’s the problem?” Colleen said.

  “I told her I deleted all copies but the one she’s currently in possession of, but she doesn’t believe me.”

  Anya winced. “It’s not that I don’t believe you. I just don’t…know if you…”

  “You think I’m lying and saved a copy for myself.”

  “No. I just don’t know if you did.”

  “I did not.” He cursed. “I hadn’t realized this would be a trigger for you.”

  “Anya,” Colleen said. “I can vouch for Clint. If he said he erased the film and destroyed the copy, he did.”

  Anya held Colleen’s gaze and saw the truth in it.

  “I’m sorry,” she said to Clint.

  “Forget it,” he said, standing up. “Are we done here?” he asked Colleen.

  “Yeah,” Colleen said, giving him a sad smile.

  Anya stood in place until he left, not quite slamming the door behind him. “You told me he played games.” She sat in the chair across from Colleen’s desk.

  “He does. His kink is filming people having sex and recording it for their pleasure.”

  “Now you tell me?” Anya said.

  “You had sex with him and didn’t know you were being filmed?”

  “We didn’t have sex and I was blindfolded.”

  Colleen shook her head. “He wouldn’t risk the liability of not destroying the recordings.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “I wouldn’t hire him if he was the type of man to do that.”

  “How would you know?” Anya asked, swigging her soda.

  “I’m a good judge of character,” Colleen said. “Not just a pretty face with big tits.” She gestured to them.

  “I didn’t say you were.”

  “Are you on the rag?” Colleen frowned at her.

  “Nice talk, sugar mouth. No.” Although, that would explain why the scale had stalled.

  “Because you’re making a mountain out of a molehill. It’s done. Let it go.”

  “It’s gone,” Anya said, dusting off her hands. “Just like all my other romantic involvements.”

  “Did you at least have fun?”

  Anya nodded glumly. “The best.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, because you just fucked up a repeat performance.” Colleen motioned at the door.

  “I think I’m going to go back to bed and forget this day ever happened.” Anya got up from the chair.

  “I’ve had days like that.”

  “See you later.” Anya saluted Colleen with her soda can and left the office.

  “How did that go?” Nefertiti asked.

  “Like a car crash.”

  “You going to let that fine man walk away?”

  Anya snorted. “Like he’d touch me with a ten-foot pole now.”

  Nefertiti raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think his pole is ten feet, but it’s up there.”

  Anya cracked a smile. “No, this time it’s my ship that sailed. Actually my ship is the fucking Titanic. Let’s talk about your love life.”

  “Speaking of going down into the frigid arctic waters,” she quipped.

  “I think you and I need to go to Club Inferno tonight.”

  Nefertiti raised an eyebrow. “Don’t give up on men. You’ll find someone who’ll put up with your dumb ass. Besides, I don’t swing that way.”

  “No, idiot. This is part of my plan to get you-know-who to fall madly in love with you.”

  “Is it going to work as well as your love life?”

  “Better,” Anya vowed, but her fingers were crossed behind her back.

  Chapter Nine

  The last person Clint was expecting to see in Club Inferno that night was Anya, followed by Nefertiti. Both women were dressed to thrill. Anya was wearing a corset dress that showed a hint of her pink areolas. Nefertiti was wearing boots that went up to the tops of her thighs and a man’s shirt, belted with a tie.

  Ducking into the corner so they wouldn’t see him, Clint watched them pass with the unshakable feeling that Lucy and Ethel were going to get in trouble. Sure enough, Istvahn followed a few minutes later.

  “Hey.” Clint stepped out in front of him.

  “Get out of my way,” Istvahn said.

  “No trouble in my dungeon.”

  “I’m not planning on starting trouble,” Istvahn said.

  “Yeah, right,” Clint said. “Look, I need to talk to you. Can we step out of the club for a few minutes?”

  “Not right now.”

  “They’ll be fine. Do you want me to see if Max will tie them up and keep them safe until we get back?”

  Istvahn seemed to consider it. “If Max keeps an eye on Tee until I get back, you have ten minutes.”

  “Thanks,” Clint said sarcastically, and texted Max their general direction. “He’s on it,” Clint said when Max confirmed. Max was in the dungeon tonight with Mallory. Hopefully, they’d hang out at the bar until after he finished spilling the beans to Istvahn.

  He motioned for Istvahn to follow him into the elevator. Wincing at the noise when the doors opened up into Couture’s nightclub, the Hot Spot, Clint strode through the club.

  “I hate techno,” Istvahn said.

  “Come on.” He led them past the models and designers dancing to a drum machine surrounded by a strobe flashing at epileptic levels. When the door closed and they were in the carpeted, soundproof hallway, Clint checked to see if his ears were bleeding.

  “What was so important you had to interrupt my evening?”

  Clint gut-checked himself. Was he doing this to get back at Anya? No. It had never sat well with him that they were going to keep this from Istvahn. If the situation was reversed, he’d want to know.

  “I wanted to explain to you what was going on the other day.”

  “None of my business,” Istvahn said.

  “Actually,” Clint said, “I think it is. Look, there’s no easy way to break this to a guy. So I’m saying it right off. You knocked Tee up.”

  Istvahn’s only reaction was to blink twice.

  Maybe he didn’t think he was serious. “That’s why we went to Mallory’s shelter. Tee wanted to see a female doctor she knew and trusted.” Clint broke off as Istvahn moved to grab him. He deflected and dodged. Istvahn backed off.

  “If this is true, why didn’t she come to me?”

  “It’s some girl thing,” Clint said.

  “Did she think I’d refuse to take care of the baby?” Istvahn’s voice had a plaintive note that Clint had never heard from him.

  “I think she thought it would change how you felt about her.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  Clint shrugged. “Women. I can’t explain them. I figured you didn’t need to be blindsided by whatever they’re cooking up.”

  “Why is she in the dungeon?”

  “She’s not on my schedule, so she’s not seeing one of the Doms.”

  “Is she meeting someone? Man by the name of John?” Istvahn rounded on him again.

  “I’m pretty sure John doesn’t exist.”

  “This makes absolutely no sense. I need to talk to her.” Istvahn pushed back into the Hot Spot.

  “About that,” Clint shouted over the noise. “Do you think you could leave me out of the conversation?”

  Istvahn stopped. Nodded. “Thank you for telling me.”

  They rode the elevator back down to Club Inferno in silence. Clint couldn’t get a read on the other man. Nothing showed on his face. He could have been happy or upset. Clint wondered if he’d done the right thing. He texted Max to see where Anya and Nefertiti had ended up.

  “They’re at Dante’s presentation.”

  “He better keep his damn hands to himself.”

  Clint agreed and
then wondered why he cared. Anya obviously thought he was a creep. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop him from wanting her. He’d barely slept last night editing the recording. It was the hottest thing he’d ever put together. He could still hear her sexy voice while she came against his mouth. It was a damn shame she’d made him delete it.

  Istvahn plowed out of the elevator as soon as it stopped. He focused on Nefertiti and then homed in like a hawk sighting a mouse. Anya leaned in and said something that made Tee throw her head back and laugh.

  “She’s just not that into you,” he said aloud so it felt more real. Clint cast his eye around, trying to find someone to take his mind off her. Although if he really wanted to forget her, he wouldn’t have been heading to Dante’s circus.

  Max stood with the girls but had his arms wrapped around Mallory’s waist. To give him credit he was also glaring at anyone who looked like they might approach the group. The girls had their backs to them, watching Dante’s naked acrobats suspend the laws of physics with their contortions.

  Dante, dressed like a ringmaster, complete with boots and a whip, strode back into the center ring.

  “I would like a volunteer from the audience.” He stared directly at Max’s group.

  Nefertiti jumped when Istvahn’s hands clamped on her shoulders. “We need to talk.”

  With a nervous glance at Anya, Nefertiti nodded and let Istvahn lead her away.

  “Anya,” Dante said, motioning with his hand. “Come up here, please.”

  Before Clint could rationalize what he was doing, he put his hand on her shoulder and stared down Dante. Dante raised an eyebrow and moved on to another victim.

  “Valerie, how about you?” Dante held out his hand to a petite brunette and helped her into the circle.

  “How dare you,” Anya seethed, and would have whirled to confront him. But he stopped her and held her shoulders so she was forced to watch Dante.

  “This could have been you,” he said.

  She went rigid with shock when Dante cut off the woman’s clothing with three brisk flicks of his wrists. You could only see the flash of the knife if you knew where to look. Valerie’s clothes fell off her in ribbons and yet there wasn’t a mark on her body.

  “This is a prototype dress. Made especially for me,” Anya whispered.