Wild Licks

by Cecilia Tan

  “Oh, has someone asked about doing it?”

  “Um, no,” I lied. “I just saw a how-to on YouTube, and it seems to be getting popular.” Well, it wasn’t a total lie: I actually had watched a YouTube video to find out more about it and concluded that generally speaking, Mal had done almost everything right. The way I remembered the accident, I’d kicked my leg and jostled his arm holding the flame and that’s what had set my wig on fire. If we were ever going to do something like that again, I’d know not to wear a flammable wig and to keep still if I wasn’t tied down.

  But what were the chances I was going to convince Mal to get over himself enough to try it again? Slim, perhaps. He’d texted a terse message to me after the Breakwater party: This event at your home: shall we be civil to one another?

  I’d replied: I plan to be the perfect hostess.

  Two oddly sincere-seeming words had come back: Thank you.

  I took his request to mean I shouldn’t harangue him about “us” the way I had at Breakwater’s thing. Well, I had no intention of doing so. In fact, I’d resolved not to talk to him at all unless he talked to me first. Madison had agreed: playing hard to get was the oldest play in the playbook, but it was there for a reason.

  “Make two copies of this, I guess, one for each of us?” Ricki suggested. “Then we’ll, what, shred them after the orientation is done? Wouldn’t want to have incriminating evidence lying around. Let’s have Madison and Bradley go around with us, too, because they might think of things we forgot.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll update the file on my encrypted hard drive.” I took her notated version and went to make changes to it.

  I called Madison while I was typing in the additions. Time to work on what we had in store for Mal, and it definitely did not involve speaking to him, though I sincerely hoped it sent a message.

  “Did you read the book?” I asked her when she picked up the line.

  Her voice was gleeful. “Oh my goodness, that was a book for kids?”

  “Well, twenty years ago, I guess. What did you think?”

  She laughed. “That was definitely the kinkiest thing I ever read outside of a porno shop. I mean, you had to read between the lines but there’s so much implied.”

  “I know. So what do you think? Can we do a scene with Excrucia and the Headmistress?”

  “Oh, totally. There’s the whole description of how the Headmistress has the two punishment floggers hanging over the doorway to the correction room. I have two floggers, a matched set, that’ll work for that.”

  “Awesome.” I sent my document to the printer. “You’re sure you’re okay with being a little more intense than we usually are? I mean, people are used to you and me playing, but, well, playing. As in playfully.”

  “Gwen, no one in this crowd is going to be fazed by actual play-acting, least of all me. I mostly want to make sure it’s okay with you.”

  “I’m thinking of it like an audition scene, you know, to see if I can,” I told her. “I know I’m in good hands with you.”

  Her laugh was warm and genuine. “I do love giving the husbands of the older couples something to break the ice and get them going. Their wives always thank me when we do, you know?”

  “I know! This is going to be fun.” Good, clean fun. Maybe I’d find out that role-playing with other people was just as much fun as it was with Mal. Maybe the game of Let’s Pretend was what really made things so intense, and I’d find that there was a way other than Mal to fill the aching gap in my chest.

  Truthfully, that ache had only gotten worse since the last time we’d seen each other. You’d think seeing me healthy and unscarred would’ve calmed him down, but his text had made me think he was as defensive as ever. At least he’s coming to the party, I thought. To me that meant there was hope.

  * * *

  MAL

  Chino and I took separate cars to the Hamilton mansion but we arrived at the same time. While the butler drove Chino’s vehicle down the drive to a parking area out of view from the front door, Ricki Hamilton showed us inside. She was in a blazer and pencil skirt looking almost like a stewardess from a vintage poster.

  “I know you guys have been here before, but of course today Madison and I are going to show you a part of the mansion you haven’t seen,” she said as she led us through the main foyer. “Mal, I know Axel’s told you some but I’m going to pretend you know nothing, just to make sure I tell you everything I should.”

  “That sounds like a solid plan.” I followed her to a door with a numeric keypad, Chino coming up just behind.

  She punched a four-digit code too quickly for us to see and then opened the door to a stairwell downward. “This door is always locked from upstairs but unlocked from downstairs, so you can always exit if you need to, but if you need reentry, you’ll need to page us to come let you back in. All guests are expected to arrive between eight and nine p.m. and the staff is here to provide continuous access during that hour.”

  We followed her down the stairs to another doorway where she introduced us to two dark-suited members of her security staff who would be on duty that night. I had the feeling they were memorizing our faces. Just beyond them we met our other “tour guide,” Madison, an auburn-haired woman with the legs and posture of a Rockette dancer. Chino said something to her, but I didn’t register what, too distracted by the sound of voices coming from down the hall, my ears listening instinctively for Gwen.

  Madison opened the door into a bathroom. “This one has a shower stall big enough for three, but it’s intended for cleanup purposes only.” She flicked on the light, revealing a tastefully tiled room. “The next one down is for actual bath or shower scenes.”

  “I’m easily confused,” Chino joked. “What happens if I do a scene in the wrong one?”

  Madison gave him a sharp look. “Then you might get spanked.”

  “But what if I want to get spanked?” His smile was cheeky.

  She didn’t look amused. “Are you a bottom?”

  “I am if it means a pretty girl like you looking at my ass,” he said, adjusting his jeans.

  “Chino,” I said in my have-some-respect voice.

  Ricki, at least, seemed to appreciate my effort. “There’ll be plenty of time to flirt later, guys.”

  “I’m not flirting,” Madison said at the same moment Chino said, “Who’s flirting?” so that the word flirting matched up. Then they both bafflingly said, “Coke!” at the same time and then burst out laughing.

  “Is this some American courtship ritual I’m unaware of?” I asked Ricki.

  She was smiling and shaking her head. “You could say that. Come on, let’s continue and they can catch up.” She turned on the light in a changing room that had wood-paneled lockers and electronic code locks. A matching leather corset and thigh-high boots, richly dyed a reddish cinnamon brown, were sitting on the polished wood bench. “We of course prefer if people arrive wearing their discreet, usual clothes and wait until they’re out of the public eye before they slip into something less comfortable.”

  Was the outfit Gwen’s? I couldn’t help but picture her, the way her golden skin would look against the brown leather, remembering how her back had looked while laced into the corset she’d worn to the Beach Bash, the knife balanced on her back as she’d awaited me in the trailer like a gift…

  Waiting to be torn open, I reminded myself. No. We’re not going down that road again.

  Now I was certain I could hear her voice, and a part of me was aware we were drawing nearer to her.

  As we entered the main room, I saw her, leading Samson and Ford on a similar orientation tour with another man I did not recognize. I immediately wanted to know who he was. Gwen merely waved to us as she led them out the other side of the room, leaving us in a wide open socializing area that reminded me of a gentlemen’s billiards room or library, except there was no billiards table and only a few small bookshelves set into the walls. Everything was dark-paneled wood and leather, with a bar that seated
four, several low leather couches, and a Catherine wheel against one wall.

  “Who was that with Gwen?” I asked Ricki, trying to sound casually curious instead of agitated.

  “That’s Bradley, one of our other hosts. You can bring any problem or question to any one of the hosts, or to me or Gwen of course.”

  Oh. An employee. How sensible. “How did you hire them? I can’t imagine the job listing.”

  Ricki smiled. “My grandfather hired them. I’m not sure how he found them, but they’re great. Now, play is allowed in this room, but we generally keep it to the equipment, not the seating area. Let me show you the Catherine wheel, which can be locked so it can be used like a Saint Andrew’s cross.”

  I watched, trying to act as if I were paying rapt attention, but my mind was wandering the back hallways, wondering what Gwen was telling my bandmates.

  She was probably telling them exactly what Ricki was telling me. Most of the rules seemed to be common sense, but the Hamiltons made no assumptions that their guests knew everything (or anything) about safe sex. Chino and Madison caught up and Ricki walked us through the kit in each room, which included not only condoms but also dental dams, gloves, and disinfection supplies, and also drilled us on several other rules, including no fire play, never leave a person alone in any kind of bondage even for a minute, and a full rundown on earthquake preparedness.

  I still hadn’t gotten accustomed to living in a place where the Earth might suddenly decide to heave. But like so many thoughts, it was necessary to shove it to the back of my mind in order to carry on with day-to-day life.

  Like the thoughts about what I wanted to do to Gwen Hamilton. Tonight would be the ultimate test of whether I could keep a lid on that Pandora’s box, wouldn’t it? This is good for Gwen, I told myself. This is a safe environment where she can’t get herself into too much trouble. That Bradley person is a trained professional. Surely that is all she needs…

  I discovered I was clenching my fist, which was still sore from the burn, though I only needed a simple Band-Aid now. I forced my hand to relax, forcing myself to pay attention to Ricki’s words as she brought us to another doorway.

  “This is a new room we just opened up that had been storage. We thought it would be fun to have a medical play room that really looked like a doctor’s exam room.” She stepped into a small room that was an impeccable re-creation, right down to the drawer of sterilized and packaged instruments. Medical play was not my cup of tea—too precise and fussy and anti-erotic for my style—but I appreciated the attention to detail.

  Then there was the large room that was made up like a, well, dungeon, complete with faux flame sconces and iron manacles set in the stone walls. That was more to my taste. “We call this the Inquisition Room,” Ricki said.

  “No one expects the Spanish Inquisition,” Chino said with a sage nod.

  We returned to the main room after that, prompting Chino to ask an actually intelligent question. “Do you serve alcohol at this bar?”

  “We do,” Ricki said, “though we don’t allow anyone who’s drunk to play, and no drugs. This crowd gets high on the endorphin rush and tends not to drink much in the way of alcohol to begin with. Any other questions?”

  Yes, I thought to myself. Isn’t it a bit…odd?…to run a secret bondage establishment with your own sister? Instead I said, “It all seems very well organized.”

  She smiled. “We try. The club got sort of dropped in our laps after our grandfather passed and it turns out there’s still a need for it. I mean, yes, BDSM is less stigmatized than it used to be, but there’s also more intense interest in our private sex lives than ever.”

  “Very, very true.” At that moment Gwen and her group returned with a short, plump woman in tow, solving the mystery of whose boots and corset we had seen earlier. Her skin was almost as dark as the leather and her smile was brilliant.

  “Hey, everyone, if you haven’t met her yet, this is Chita,” Gwen said. “We have a staff of three hosts—Chita, Madison, and Bradley. They’re fully trained with all the equipment and are available to be invited to play, but let me emphasize the word invited because they are never required to do anything they don’t want to do.”

  I feigned interest in meeting the hosts, enough to seem believably polite, whilst armoring myself to ignore Gwen further.

  That plan worked for a few short hours. The guests began arriving after our orientation ended, and it was pleasant enough to socialize with a few people I’d met before like the model/performer known as Sakura and the people who were new to me like Madison, who seemed to always be there with a ready conversation whenever my attention lagged.

  Perhaps inevitably I ended up in a conversation beside the bar that included Gwen, and when the other two moved off to play together, I was unable to simply walk away from her. That would be rude.

  For her part, she was fulfilling the role of perfect hostess, as promised. “Can I pour you a drink, Mal? Some soda water? I’m going to have some.”

  “Um, yes, that would be very thoughtful.” I made small talk to fill the silence while she went around to the other side of the bar and got out glasses. “So. Your new agent. You like him? Or her?”

  “You met him at that banquet,” she said as she scooped the ice. “Simon Gabriel. Did he make a good impression on you?”

  “Good enough, anyway.” My eyes followed her as she put the ice into the glasses. Her hands were entrancing me. “Seemed a reasonable fellow.”

  “He says he’s going to try to get me some gigs in music videos.” She shrugged.

  “This idea doesn’t thrill you I take it?”

  She poured from a bottle into each glass and then set one in front of me. “Oh, it’s not that it isn’t a good opportunity, but it’s the whole thing of being a pretty face but not getting a speaking part.”

  “Aaah, I see.” I wasn’t particularly fond of the mimicry and vamping that filming a video often required of the band, either. I picked up the glass and raised it to her in thanks. “What is it that drew you to acting?”

  “I resisted it at first, actually.” She took a sip and looked off into the distance instead of at me. “But I fell in love with that feeling of inhabiting a character, of becoming another person. Talking like them, thinking like them, it’s like a whole new internal logic springs up in my mind.”

  I murmured in agreement, barely aware that we’d slipped into an easy intimacy: me asking, her answering from her heart.

  “It can be really…intense sometimes. Like I’ve changed how I thought or felt about things personally as a result. Like the first time I did a death scene. It wasn’t even for a show; it was just an acting class. But it was like…I died and woke up a new person.”

  The ghost of Risa in the back of my mind would not let that go unremarked. “New how?”

  “Less afraid. More willing to embrace the mysteries in life. It sounds weird, I know, but it was almost like a…religious epiphany. One of my theater professors warned us about it. Even though you’re ‘just acting,’ real emotional change can happen.” She paused for a second before going on. “You know, now that I think about it, that must be true for role-playing in a BDSM scene, too.”

  “You think?” I tried to keep my voice neutral, knowing I wanted to avoid anything that smacked of “relationship talk” and yet part of me craved hearing what she was saying. Perhaps I was unable to stop picking at a wound as I asked, “Did you have any epiphanies when we played?”

  Gwen met my eyes. “I don’t know about epiphanies exactly, but I do feel like, even when you told me who to be, the character I became, the person I inhabited, was actually the best possible version of myself.”

  Sweet Gwen. I was speechless. How could I explain to her that once I gave in to my cravings I felt I became the worst version of myself? I was unable to muster even a polite automatic response.

  She glanced at the clock and took a hurried last sip from her glass. “Ooh. Gotta run! I’ve got to go get ready for a scene Mad
ison and I are going to do. Talk to you later, Mal.”

  And away she went. Gwen and Madison? I was still trying to absorb what she had said about becoming her best self while in scene. If that was so, then what was she trying to prove by doing a scene with Madison? I wondered if I could go through watching it. Perhaps I should leave.

  I knew I wouldn’t, though. I was as drawn to Gwen Hamilton as the proverbial moth to the flame.

  * * *

  GWEN

  Oh, man. Here I’d promised myself I’d keep my distance and I’d gone right for the jugular instead. Why did I tell him that? If Mal needed a reason to think I was turning into an obsessed stalker, telling him I found BDSM a potentially life-changing experience probably just handed him one. He’d stared at me like I’d told him I liked to kick puppies. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe he was just so moved by my confession that he was speechless.

  Yeah, right. I tried to put it out of my mind while Madison showed me what she’d brought, laying them across the bench in the changing room.

  “Oh, Maddie, these are absolutely beautiful.” I ran my fingers through the tails of the matching pair of floggers. The leather was dark blue and managed to be both thick and soft at the same time. The handles were braided with dark blue and silver strands. “Where did you get them?”

  “A woman in Virginia makes them, I think. Maybe it’s Maryland. I loved the color but I had to get both because they only came as a matched set. They’re moose hide.” She stepped back and swung them, though there wasn’t quite enough space in the changing room to really flail them around. “They’re a little on the heavy side, but if you like more thud than sting, they’re exactly what you want.”

  I felt myself blush a little at the thought that flashed through my mind: If it had been Mal, I would have wanted it to sting like crazy. But to play with Madison, thud was probably better. She wasn’t really a sadist. We were just having fun.

  Well, having fun and provoking Mal.

  “That’s all you’re going to wear?” she asked.