by Ashlee Price
“I won’t. I mean, I’ll try not to.”
“You’ve never done anything like this before, have you?” I asked her solemnly.
“No, nothing close,” she confessed in a burst. I thought I could see tears resting in her eyes.
“Then why are you doing it?”
“It’s hard to explain. I’ve always been the good child. The one who did what she was supposed to, kept everyone happy, got the good grades, you know.”
I nodded. “And so?”
Whitney scratched her ear—a gesture I would eventually realize meant that she was nervous or unsure of herself. I paid attention to things like that.
“I guess you could say I’ve not had a very interesting life, as a result. Being a good girl doesn’t always mean you’re a fun girl, or that you have fun.”
“I could see how that might be true.”
“So, you want me to go in, and then come out in only the robe?”
“If you want to.”
She took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She turned, squared her shoulders, and headed into the locker room.
I knew she was still having reservations. I hoped I’d said all the right things to let her know she didn’t have to follow through with things. The truth was, I was already visualizing her beneath me, and the selfish part of me was wanting her to stay.
She would be like calming a nervous colt.
CHAPTER FIVE
Whitney
Was it supposed to feel like this? I’d always heard that sex was one of the most beautiful, natural feelings you could have. Why did this feel so wrong? Was I really this inhibited?
In an act of defiance, I knew the only way I could open myself up to the world was to take a deep breath, cast aside my insecurities about purity, and go for it. I knew Tiffany would be laughing at me, were she standing with me at that moment.
I put on a robe and walked into the pool area. What I found stunned me.
The entire pool area had been transformed. The overhead lights had been extinguished and wall-mounted gas torch lights blazed, giving the area the appearance of a castle. The muted lights reflected off the pool surface. One end of the pool wall was a panel that had been slid aside, exposing a Tudor-decorated room with a variety of leather-covered seating in high-backed chairs and fires that burned in stone fireplaces. What happened?
Dagger stepped out of the shadows, his arms crossed over his chest. “Welcome,” he said. “This is Huntington Castle.”
“It’s beautiful, but not what I expected at all.”
“No, I don’t suppose you did. In fact, many of our clients have difficulty with even the most preliminary yoga moves, so we often start them in the pool where they can be buoyant.” He walked toward me, totally dressed. I was confused. “In your case, however,” he continued, “I’m going to leave you here totally alone. No one will bother you. I’d like you to go into the water after I’ve left and spend all the time you need swimming gently to the music I’ll turn on. I want you to get acquainted with your body; how it moves through the water, how the music inspires you, and most especially to not be embarrassed about being in the nude. Remember that our clients will also be nervous, as well as nude, and they’ll take their cues from you. It’s important that you make them feel at ease.
“When you’re done, get dressed and you’ll find me somewhere here in the studio.”
The door opened at that moment, and Katrina walked in. “Dagger? I’ve got the reception area all done. We’ve got our first walk-in potential client. Want to come up and say hello?”
I felt self-conscious, and Katrina seemed to notice. “You okay?” she asked me, and I smiled and nodded. “I told Dagger this wasn’t for everyone, but he can be pretty persuasive when he wants something.”
Her words hung in the air between the three of us. I drew in my breath at what they revealed. I hadn’t dreamed he might be attracted to me. He was everything I’d ever wanted. It wasn’t just my imagination. Every female part of my body was responding to him. I was doing this to stay close to him, and now I’d heard that maybe it was his preference?
Dagger looked at me sidelong and then at the pool. “Is there anything else, Kat?” he asked her without looking up.
“Nope, that’s it. You going swimming?” she wanted to know.
I picked up on the energy in the room. Katrina was obviously infatuated with Dagger. I couldn’t blame her. I was feeling pretty much the same thing. I realized I was actually experiencing jealousy!
Dagger looked up at her then, a glaring stare as her answer.
“Ohhhhkay,” she blustered in an embarrassed tone. “I guess that’s none of my business,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest and turning to leave. She closed the door a little harder than necessary.
I felt like I needed to come to her defense. “I think she meant well,” I said softly. He looked at me, and I think his first thought was to bite my head off. He must have re-thought it, because he simply shrugged. I took it one step further. “She’s got a crush on you, you know.”
“What are you talking about?” His voice was gruff and his posture stiff. I took it that he’d been completely ignorant of her body language when she was near him.
“Never mind. It’s not my business,” I filled in. I wanted this job, and although I had a degree in psychology, neither of them was my patient, nor had they asked my opinion. That was a cardinal rule: never to interfere unless invited to share an opinion. Lord knows, that was hard for me to do.
He was done with the conversation. “Do your swimming and then come find me,” he ordered, then left the room, pulling the outside door hard to indicate that no one would be entering.
I stood at the water’s edge and looked at the torchlight reflected there. It was certainly inviting. I untied the belt, slid the robe to the floor, and did a full dive directly into the water. The really odd thing was that I never tested the water before diving in. It could have been thirty-four degrees, or a hundred and eighty. I had simply trusted Dagger. I knew he wouldn’t put me in harm’s way.
I swam a few laps, contemplating the drastic change in my attitude over the previous hour. I’d been a stuck-up, highly-moraled neophyte and there I was, swimming naked in a pool and hopefully taking a job teaching people how to bend provocatively with a nude partner. It was sort of scary, actually.
From somewhere overhead, music began to play. It was a mixture of classical and baroque; languid, repetitive melodies that encouraged me to attempt a sort of water choreography. I felt the warm water enter my vagina and flow out again. My breasts weren’t strapped to my chest, but allowed to flow freely in the water, moving with my body as I executed dolphin-like turns and somersaults. I spread my legs in the shallow end, bending deeply from the waist and forming a triangle base from which I rose into a handstand.
It was the most liberating thing I’d ever done. Not only did I love how it felt, I was anxious to introduce others and let them recognize the liberating properties that water presented to the body.
I’d finally had enough and emerged to put on the robe. I dressed in the locker room, dried my hair, and then set off to find Dagger. He was in his office, going over some legal-looking documents. He looked up as I tapped lightly on the opened door.
“So? What did you think?” His tone was a little challenging. He wanted me to prove him right. I could do that. I wanted the job—okay, I wanted him.
“I have to admit, you were right. You seemed to know what would set me at ease. It felt wonderful, and I think I could get used to it and be comfortable.” I was trying to be optimistic, even though I knew only time would really tell.
“Good.” He slid the papers he was working on into a folder and deposited them in his desk drawer. I watched his long, powerful fingers manipulating the paper and the metal. It sent chills of longing down my spine, and suddenly I wanted to feel those fingers tap down my back in the warm water of that pool. I was so pre-occupied with my thought
s that I missed his next question.
He’d noticed. “I was asking if you’re interested in the job?”
I nodded, more enthusiastic than I’d been the first time he’d asked.
“Good. I think you’ll work out just fine. You know, there’s an apartment upstairs that goes with the position, right? I like you to be on hand for more than just nine to five. The salary is ninety thousand plus benefits and you will earn commission on any new clients you sign up. It will take a few weeks to get you up to speed before you can start training, but you look pretty flexible, so I think you’ll get it quickly.”
Lord! Did he know all the ways I was interpreting his words?
“Where are you staying currently?” he asked, and I felt embarrassed to tell him.
“With my sister. I’m new in town and didn’t want to look for my own place until I knew where I’d be working,” I fibbed, only slightly.
“Leave your address with Kat and I’ll send over movers this afternoon. Why don’t you go home and sort through your things? They’ll pack and bring them here and I’ll help you get settled.”
“That’s wonderful. Thank you!” I turned to go.
“One more thing,” he called to me.
“Yes?”
He tossed something at me and I caught it. It was a keying with two keys. “I noticed you came in a cab. You’ll need transportation for the job. I may need you to run errands, take new clients to lunch and so forth. And you’ll need to get a few outfits so you can deal with clients until the nude sessions start. The car is out the back door,” he pointed.
“You’re serious? That seems awfully generous.” I was poking holes in what appeared to be the perfect job for me. He knew it, too.
“I take care of my people,” he told me, and I wanted to interpret that one a dozen different ways, too. “I stay on the premises, too. I have an apartment at the back of the building. You’ll see me around.”
I nodded, feeling a little thrill go through me. “Well, uh, thank you.”
He looked up. “You’ll earn it,” he said in measured words, and I felt the thrill again. What had I signed up for? One thing I knew… I couldn’t wait to find out!
The movers arrived while I was trying to explain to Tiff what my new job was all about without really explaining what it was all about. I knew I’d never hear the end of it. For the time being, I’d have to keep in touch with her by meeting her for lunch, or bringing over pizza to her apartment. I didn’t want to let her into my make-believe world quite yet—if ever. I wanted to learn who the man, Dagger Braun, really was and why he had such an effect on me. In fact, I felt compelled to do so.
The movers took the few pitiful boxes of my stuff, and I followed them back to the studio, driving the baby-blue Mercedes convertible I’d found behind the building. It had leather seats that nestled me and a quick engine that let me weave in and out of traffic. The sound system was outrageously good, so I left the top up and turned the volume to full. Anyone looking at me from another vehicle would have testified that I was having a seizure or fit—I was that into the music.
When we arrived, Dagger met me at the door. He almost seemed afraid that I had backed out. Now that he had my possessions in his building, I was unlikely to leave. I’d learned to read people pretty well in my almost profession. I wanted to learn to read him even better.
I put away the few things I had and went to bed early. The bed was lusciously soft and had been covered with designer linens that matched the towels in my white marble bath with Jacuzzi tub and separate shower. The entire apartment was designed in a very trendy fashion. The furnishings matched, and they were upholstered with expensive fabric—most likely custom made just for the room. There was a small kitchen, a sitting area, an alcove by the window for a desk, and then the bedroom and bath. It was first class. Dagger had good taste. I hoped I was included in that. In fact, I stayed awake another two hours exploring just that perspective.
CHAPTER SIX
Dagger
Normally, I’d exhausted myself enough by bedtime that I had no problems sleeping whatsoever. In the military, sleep was precious and you learned to turn it on and off at will. That ability had gradually faded away, or so I learned that night.
She was under the same roof with me. Whitney; the enigma, as I’d come to think of her. It had been total overkill to send movers with a truck. I think we could have transferred her possessions with a bicycle basket.
I’d helped her upstairs and stood back to see what she thought of her mini-apartment. For some reason, it was important to me that she was happy. I’d never let myself care about anyone before. Beginning with the loss of my parents, followed by my buddy, Tim, I’d learned that people come and go. Sometimes just out of your life, and sometimes out of their own. When I’d seen her emerge from that taxi, it had been as though someone had hit me in the gut with a battering ram. I’d felt an instant attachment and momentarily wondered if I already knew her from somewhere. But no. Her, I would have remembered.
I think the greatest effect she had upon me was in trusting me. I could tell that the entire prospect made her uncomfortable, and for the life of me, I didn’t understand why that bothered me so. My training had driven into me that people were disposable—it was the mission, the goal, that could never be surrendered. There was irony in that lesson, for if you sacrificed a hundred lives to save a precious few, it was still lives lost. That sort of doubt wasn’t permitted, though. That’s why they grabbed us while we were young and gullible. Our brains hadn’t matured enough to fully understand the consequence of our actions. We were easily persuaded and controlled.
That was behind me now. I’d hated that part of the service. Now, I was able to call my own shots and only answered for my own mistakes. Maybe that was why this girl was so important. I wanted her, and I didn’t want to fuck this up.
She’d seemed to really love the apartment. I’d had a designer in to make sure the appointments were first quality and stylish. Not knowing who would be living there, but assuming it would be my female trainer, I’d gone for a lighter, feminine look, and by her reaction, I’d say the designer had done a very good job.
Boy, I’d done a damned fine job, too. I’d managed to put the most desirable female I’d ever come across into the apartment of my building and then made it conveniently and politely permissible that she not yet really do her job—which included letting me have her body.
Oh, I’d been all over this in my head already. I told myself that the body, in this case, was a tool. Just as Hooters used boobs to sell booze, I was selling the human body as a tool of enjoyment to people who willingly participated, even begged to take a role. My female counterpart would have to be equally comfortable in doing this. Furthermore, she couldn’t mind my particular touch, as she would be subjected it during any couples’ demonstrations. Everything was aboveboard and should be considered medical as opposed to erotic, in theory. Despite that, there I was, setting myself up to have the greatest issue with the whole idea. I’d paired myself off with someone I wanted to fuck. God help me. I did. It wasn’t like other women I’d known and soon forgotten. This one had some undeniable connection for me. I tried to ignore it, but there was no getting around it. She was meant to walk through that door, and more than that, I knew she was meant to be in my bed. The idea of holding and molding all the parts of her body to my personal liking was enough to make me lose control, right there between my clean designer sheets.
Unable to sleep, I rolled out of the bed and left my apartment, heading down the hallway. The building was very quiet, and that suited me just fine. I entered the pool area, where the same scene I’d set for Whitney was still in evidence. All I had to do was hit a switch to light the sconces. I watched as each one flamed and then settled into a steady glow, giving the water a golden tint that flickered. It was highly erotic, I had to admit. With a clean dive, I submerged and swam a couple of lengths beneath the surface.
The pool concept had been one of the last th
ings I’d come up with. I’d reasoned that if clients wanted to cool down, they could linger and I could run a small concession. The better acquainted they became with one another, the more likely they’d remain members and the more comfortable they’d be when it came to the group exercises. It was just a fortunate accident that the water might act as a midway environment between street clothes and total nudity. It had obviously worked well for Whitney.
I felt her before I saw her from the corner of my eye. She must have descended with feather-light steps down the staircase and into the pool area. Perhaps she couldn’t sleep either; perhaps she had another reason. Diving beneath the water allowed me to observe her without her realizing it—to her I was blinded while submerged.
She’d secreted herself in a corner near the door. The sconce light shadowed it, and she was crouched into a small ball. Obviously, she didn’t want me to know she was there. Perhaps she’d come down to use the pool herself—to practice some moves or to tire herself out so she could sleep. I didn’t let on that I knew she was there.
Instead, I decided to let her watch me. I wanted her to know my body and how I moved. Half the cure to reluctance about being nude was to observe your partner’s body without being obvious. I wanted her to feel comfortable with me.
The first thing, of course, was to let her see my scarred back. It had been badly burned in the fire when I’d pulled in Tim. After it healed, the doctors said there was little more they could do to improve its appearance. My solution had been to get a massive tattoo, covering the scarred tissue. It was an eagle rising from the water; one talon holding the scale of justice and the second the diving dagger for which I was known.
One day I would find redemption for Tim’s death. I would get to the bottom of what had happened and who had been responsible. It was no accident. The Navy had known it, as had I, and most likely others. The Navy couldn’t spend time and money on a mystery whose solution had no possible upside. We were, after all, disposable.