by Jayce, Aven
“Hmph, what a selfish bastard,” I whine, leaving the room to enter a hall that leads further into the second level. “Mera,” I call out, and then take a moment to listen. No response.
The door to my left is locked, so I try the one across from it, entering a bedroom. “Jesus,” I groan. “Where the fuck am I?” The feeling I had earlier that the second floor is a happier space is gone. Here, in front of me, is another sex room. Definitely designed for his clients, or maybe his own fetish. In the middle of the black room rests a circular mattress. There’re no sheets or pillows, and it’s surrounded from floor to ceiling by metal bars that form a cage, a jail, a cell, or a holding area, or… God whatever it is, it disgusts me. The metal is painted blood red and there’s only one-way in and out; a small door at the bottom of the front side that a person must crawl through in order to enter. Goose bumps cover my body as I notice the padlock on the cage door. There’s also a flat screen on the wall to my right with a full-length mirror underneath it. I walk in and reach out to touch the metal. I need to prove to myself that everything I’m seeing is real. My finger runs up and down the cold metal. I place a firm grip on one of the wide bars. It’s solid, securely set into the ceiling and floor.
“That’s about the right size,” A low familiar voice calls out from behind me. I jump and turn to see Carl Caverns, my father’s employee who stopped us in front of the museum, leaning against the doorframe. He has on a white t-shirt and black jeans with black motorcycle boots. A toothpick still hangs out of his mouth, and a pair of sunglasses rests on his head. He smirks, looking at my hand as it holds onto the bar. “I said… that’s about the right size. How does it feel in your hand?”
I drop my arm and take a step back, feeling threatened and trapped by this man. “Do you ever take that thing out of your mouth?” I ask.
“Does it bother you?”
“Yeah, a little bit. It makes you look seedy.”
“Well maybe I am… seedy,” he responds in a slow drawl. “Maybe, I’d like to see you in that cage, trapped like a bird. I can be the house cat and prey on you, devour you until your insides burst and then I can lick the mess clean.”
“Oh God,” I groan, unable to hold in my repulsion for this man. “I don’t do that whole role-play thing.”
“Star is one of our finest role-playing men, at least he used to be. I find it hard to believe that you don’t enjoy it if you’re with him.”
“First of all, shithead,” I say, walking toward him with my finger pointed at his face. “I’m not his girlfriend, and I wouldn’t allow him to play any games with me if I was. I’m tired of this crap.”
“Ha,” he chuckles. “A Jameson, tired of this crap. Yeah, right. I’m sure Big Daddy has your bank account full.”
“Second, you dumbass. You don’t have a chance with me. And third, how did you get in this house, and does my father know you’re here?”
“Come on,” he says, in a softer tone, reaching his hand out to me.
“I’m not touching you.”
“That’s fine. Have it your way. I just want to show you to your room. You shouldn’t be in these private spaces anyway, Paul has them cleaned after parties and then they’re off limits until the next function.”
“My room?”
“Two doors down, sweetheart. Next to your father’s office. Come on, you don’t have to touch the ‘weird’ guy in front of you, but you can at least follow me.”
I give him a suspicious look and he places his hand in his pockets, rocking back and forth as he twists his toothpick around with his tongue.
“Look, my hands will never leave my pants, alright?”
“Nothing better leave those pants,” I reply, taking a step to the door. He walks out and I follow him down the hall.
“That door we just passed is another bedroom, a normal one. And here, my little Jameson princess, is your room… can I take my hand out to open the door?”
“Go ahead,” I say, entering a beautifully lavish bedroom suite.
“Bathroom’s in that far right corner, desk area under the window. No, it doesn’t open. Fireplace. Sofa. Um…walk-in closet in the bathroom.”
“My suitcase!” I shout. “How’d that get here?”
“My specialty, Madame. Professional gopher at your service.” He takes a bow with his arm across his waist and one hand extended out. “Your father says jump, and I jump. He wanted your things, and I got them,” he replies, standing back up.
“And Cove?”
“Well now, I thought you weren’t his girlfriend. Open relationship, yet still curious as to where he’ll be?”
“No relationship, and yes, still curious.”
“Not a question I have an answer to,” he says, taking the toothpick out of his mouth and placing it in his front pocket. “And not one I care to know.”
“Why do they call you Carl Caverns?”
“Really?” he grins, placing his hands back in his pockets. He’s confident as he rocks on his heels. “Think about it.”
I roll my eyes and throw my suitcase onto the bed, in need of more comfortable clothes on my body. I have to get out of this dress.
“I need to head out. Your father checks our code numbers to see when we come and go and I’m taking too long to drop off a bag. You good?”
“Yeah,” I say pulling out a pair of blue jeans and a tank. “Wait, no. Do you know where Mera is?”
“If she’s not by the pool or in the kitchen, then she’ll be over in Dayne’s suite. It’s on the other side,” he replies, disappearing out the door.
I run and look down the hall, watching him scurry away like a rat in a New York City subway. “Hey Carl. Thanks,” I yell.
“You can’t blame me if I want to fuck you, Sophia Jameson,” he yells back, waving a finger in the air.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I pass the stairwell that leads down to the great room and head across the balcony to Dayne’s side of the house. It feels terrific to get out of the dress I had on earlier in the office. My body’s relaxed now that I’m wearing my most comfortable jeans and favorite white tank. That is, as relaxed as one can feel locked in a porn king’s mansion. I left the bedroom quickly, wanting to see Mera. I know that if I have to the stay the night I’ll have plenty of time to explore my suite this evening.
At the end of the balcony is a large barn door that hangs on an antique metal track system. It’s painted black and close to seven feet wide, solid and heavy. With its mass I’m surprised at how easily it slides open. The wheels roll effortlessly on their track without a noise.
“Finally,” I whisper, seeing a definite presence that people live here. I hear music. A strong beat, some kind of rap, but it’s at a distance and I can’t quite make out the song. “What a fucking mess,” I whisper. “Mera,” I call out, stepping into a room that’s bursting with male testosterone. I won’t find any romantic white candles in here. An enormous flat screen television is on the far wall with a long black leather couch and a matching recliner placed in front of the screen. A coffee table in front of the furniture is strewn with beer cans, along with two bottles of wine and three wine glasses. There’s a pile of movies, newspapers, and magazines under the table. A red fleece blanket hangs over the arm of the couch and Mera’s light blue underwear is on the floor in front of the recliner. A small bar area to the side has empty bottles and glasses on the counter. Next to it are three long rows of baseball hats, placed methodically on shelves as if they were trophies. The room smells like a bar, and as I start to walk around my bare feet stick to the floor. Drops of wine and alcohol are everywhere. I have no respect for grown men who never shake the college student mentality. Dayne’s obviously unable to break away from his frat boy days, still looking to drink and fuck whenever he gets the chance, slightly different from Doron who may also enjoy these things, but has a wife and a life separate from all of this.
There’s an iPad on the sofa that I open. Maybe I can send Leondra an email. I need someone to know what’
s going on out here, and she’s the only person I can think to contact besides the police. I’m not ready to take it to that extreme until I see and talk to Mera, then we’ll decide what to do together.
Dayne has a lock on his iPad, and I can’t get on to use the Internet or FaceTime. Fuck. I toss it back on the couch and walk through the room and down an open hall. The left side is full glass, runs the length of the hallway and overlooks the backyard pool. It’s a beautifully warm and bright space, and if any other person lived here I’m sure he or she would have a row of plants rooted in the sun. I pass a bathroom on my right and then stop at a set of glass French doors just past the bath. They’re locked, but I have a clear view into what must be Dayne’s office. I see a desk, two brown leather chairs, a row of bookcases, and piles of magazines from the company.
“No fucking way,” I hear someone say faintly through the next door. There’s laughter and I recognize Mera’s high-pitched giggle. The music’s louder on this end, and as I walk to the last door at the end of the hall I recognize the beat as music Mera and I would dance to during nineties night at Worship. It’s the Beastie Boys, Root Down, a total old school song that makes me realize that Dayne and my father, although they look and act hip most of the time, still let their real age show through. Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch? Beastie Boys?
I turn the knob, surprised that it’s not locked. A loud blast of music shakes my body as I push the door open. I’ve seen Mera fuck people in the past, but I’m not prepared to see her with Dayne. Her hands grip a low dresser in front of a window. She’s facing out, her chin up and head back, with Dayne’s hand wrapped around her long hair. He tugs on it with every jerk into her body from behind. His other hand is across her breast, and with their backs to the door, I have a clear view of a large tribal tattoo that traverses his entire back.
I’ve never seen Mera under another person’s control, and yet so beautiful and happy. Her white skin glows in the window light and her moans are of pure pleasure.
“Say it,” Dayne snarls. “You love me in your ass. Say it,” he demands, yanking her hair again.
“I do. I do, Dayne.”
“Don’t fucking shit on me, you understand? Don’t shit on me.”
“No, I won’t,” she responds, breathless, with eyes closed.
“Goddamn, you’re tight.”
I’m not sure what to do. I’ve never really interrupted anyone in the middle of sex before, and I’m afraid of what might happen if I do. Dayne seems more violent to me than Doron, and not knowing him makes me take one step back. I think that this is how Leondra must have felt when she walked in on Cove and me. If Mera was in obvious pain I’d walk right in, but she looks…
“Fuck, don’t say anything. Keep that mouth shut while I get ready to shoot my cum in your ass.”
“Dayne!” Mera exclaims in a voice I know all too well. She’s about to come, and I take another step back.
“Shh, you whore, my little house whore. Shh,” he whispers. He pulls out of her and pushes her to his king-size bed. “Don’t you dare come first, I’m your baron and you always wait for me to finish.” She’s face down as he kneels over her. He grabs his dick and separates her ass, about to push in when he sees me in the doorway. He smiles and my eyes widen, frightened by his sinister grin and scarred chest. The long mark across his heart looks to be an old injury, possibly from a knife, and his right nipple is disfigured as if someone cut it off and sewed it back on slightly off center.
“Well, well,” he says, walking toward me with his long erect cock bouncing in the air. “Baby Jameson is here…in my bedroom.”
I look down at his stiff erection and see a tattoo of a swallow on his groin.
“What?” Mera screams, picking her head up off the bed.
“Where’s that cock you like to suck? Did you bring our Star with you? Maybe the two of you can join us… not that I’d want an Everton naked in my bed, but I wouldn’t mind…”
“Jesus, Dayne. She’s my best friend, don’t play games,” Mera says, as she rushes across the room and into my arms. “Oh sweetie, I’ve missed you,” she squeals, placing soft kisses all over my face, ending with a giant kiss on my mouth. Her breasts brush against my tank and when I touch the warm flesh on her back I’m immediately comforted. Her body, her voice, the soft flowery perfume that she wears, it’s all so familiar and calming to me.
“Fuck, get back into bed, Mera. I can end in about a minute after seeing two women kiss and grab each other like that.”
I ignore Dayne and grab Mera by the shoulders. There are tears in my eyes as I look into hers. “Mera, are you okay? I’ve been so worried about you over the past three days.”
“She’s fine,” Dayne says in a lower, more direct voice. “And we’re in the middle of something. When you’re in this house you’ll learn not to snoop around and intrude on peoples’ lives.”
“Dayne,” Mera scolds, looking back at him.
He walks closer and separates our embrace, picking her up and carrying her back to the bed. “Sit there, and wait,” he cautions, then looks at me while pointing at the door. “Get out, you can see her in a few minutes, I’ll send her out, until then get the fuck out while I finish.”
I look at Mera for her reaction, but she’s staring at Dayne. I can’t determine if the expression on her face is lust or if she’s play-acting, like she did with Trey in order to get out of a difficult situation. I turn and leave the room, walking down the hall as the music still plays. I wait in front of the office, listening to Dayne groan as he pounds into her. I sit on the floor and face the office with my head against the glass wall. I want to curl into a ball and take a nap in this warm spot. I’m emotionally exhausted and can’t even imagine what’s going to happen to us. I wonder if Mera has a code to get out, and if she does, if the two of us can leave without Dayne noticing. I need to figure something out before my father gets home and the house comes alive with people. With just Dayne here, we may have a chance.
“Ah, ah, ah, oh fuck, here it comes,” Dayne growls, moaning and making indescribable sounds as he fucks her. Mera’s quiet, which is unusual for her. I walk back to his room, tired of waiting to see her after going through three days of fights, passion, disgust, and hatred. It’s time.
She’s lying on her back with his hand over her mouth and his head in the blanket. Their chests heave for air.
“Mera, we need to talk, now.”
Dayne rolls over and stares at the ceiling with an arm across his stomach, searching for air. “Get the fuck out of my bed and go talk to Paul’s whiney-ass daughter,” he huffs. “Get her out of my room before I catch my breath and regain awareness of the situation. You’re both lucky I’m in system failure after an orgasm.”
“Like all men,” Mera says, getting out of bed. “You sound like a fucking dork sometimes, Dayne.”
He slaps her ass and she laughs as she pulls on one of his button down dress shirts, the sleeves rolled, front open. It runs down to her knees and could be a nightshirt on her. Dayne’s slightly bigger than his brother and twice the size of my father, making Mera seem like a Chihuahua living with a Doberman.
I take her hand and we leave Dayne’s “room.” I need a private place to speak to her, but I know that won’t be possible in this house. We walk hand and hand down the stairs and I point to one of the barstools where she takes a seat in silence. I mix us both a Greyhound from behind the counter, needing liquor, yet craving juice in my system.
“That’s a good afternoon drink,” she says.
I gulp mine down like it’s a shot then make a second.
“Jesus, Soph.”
I place my hands on the counter and look down at the floor, confused about what just took place upstairs, and in need of an explanation. “I’ve been fucked by a lot of people over the past few days, trying to get to you, and I’m not happy right now. So before I fly off the handle on yet another person, my best friend nonetheless, why don’t you tell me what happened the night you left, and what yo
u’re doing here, and if you’re interested in leaving with me. Your text messages sounded like you’re happy. Are you happy here, Mera? Should I just leave? I don’t understand what’s going on.”
She comes around to my side and rubs my back. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t know.”
“What? What don’t you know? Are you happy or not? What do you want to do? And can we get out of here?”
“Soph, I’m sorry I haven’t been able to talk to you. Dayne was the only one who let me use my phone, but only to send you a quick text. He wanted me to tell you I was enjoying myself.”
“Dayne was the one who told you to send the text?”
“Yeah, he wanted you and Cove to back off, and he thought if you heard from me you guys might second guess trying to meet with your father. That you might go home and just enjoy each other and not disrupt the company.”
“Why? Why would he care?”
She sighs, her hand still on my back. “He said Cove’s jinxed. Every time he comes here something goes wrong and he has to work to fix it, and it puts your father in a bad mood for weeks. Dayne said he’s tired and doesn’t want to deal with Cove anymore. He said if it was up to him, he’d just get rid of him.”
“And that doesn’t fucking bother you?” I ask in a raised voice. “This guy you just fucked says he wants to get rid of someone, and that doesn’t make you want to run?”