by S. E. Lund
"No," I said, shaking my head adamantly. "I don't want anyone exposing themselves just to bolster my reputation. They might be in danger as a result. You know what Joe Public would do -- they'd go after whoever it was and hound her. I don't want that on my conscience. We'll just put out a flat denial and leave it at that."
"I agree that would be for the best. It'll be a scandal for a while but then we can leak a photo of you showing your relatively bare chest and six pack. You do keep up with your crunches, I hope..."
I rubbed my stomach. "I try. Being a new father has been a bit taxing on my enthusiasm for weights but I do crunches regularly."
"Good. I don't imagine you have a photo from your time in San Francisco that might just exhibit your wonderful chest and abs, do you? I could leak it to a friend I have at the paper. They'd love to run a picture that had to do with the case. Great clickbait."
I thought to the photos Kate had taken of me with Sophie on the beach. Surely one of them captured me in my swim trunks, showing my chest and stomach. I did not have a beer belly.
I wasn't hairy, on my chest or especially my back.
"I'm sure Kate has a pic or two of me with Sophie. I'll check through our photos and send you something."
"Good. When people see your fabulous body, and compare it to the tubby hairy guy on that video, they'll see it's not you."
"I hope so..."
It was then that Kate sent me a text. I pulled out my cell and checked.
KATE: I got a letter from Wards island where the psychiatric hospital is located. It's addressed to both of us and I think it's from Lisa but there's no signature. Who else would send us something from Wards Island?
"Oh, God," I said and Lara glanced up.
"What is it?"
"Kate got a letter from Lisa."
"What? What does it say?"
I texted Kate back.
DRAKE: What did the letter say?
KATE: You'll pay. That's it. Just 'You'll pay." Drake, she's crazy.
DRAKE: She is. Don't worry. She's behind bars. All she can do is issue empty threats. Remember, we have five bodyguards on contract. They're watching the apartment and will be with us whenever we go out.
KATE: They can't protect us from crazy…
DRAKE: They will. I'll be home soon. Try not to worry. But we should give the letter to the police so they know what she's up to. I'm sure the hospital already knows.
KATE: Okay. See you soon.
I glanced up at Lara. "Apparently, Lisa sent a letter to us and wrote 'You'll pay.' That was it."
"She's nuts. I can't believe the hospital let the letter go through."
I sighed. "Maybe her family sent it?"
"Maybe. If so, it will be hard to pin it on her."
I frowned, feeling like Lisa was somehow going to win in all this.
"Don’t worry," Lara said when she saw my frown. "We'll get through this. Trust in the system."
"I do trust it. I hope that the police and jury and judge will do the right thing and convict her and put her away."
"They will," Lara said and waved her hand. "Her defense lawyers will try to throw up as much mud as they can to see if any sticks, but in the end, I'm certain she'll be convicted. They'll put away for twenty-five years or more."
"I hope so."
We spent the next half hour talking about the process that would be taking place in the case and when I'd likely be called by the prosecution as a witness. The trial was still a month away, but we wanted to be prepared to deal with the buildup and aftermath.
Finally, I got up at about one forty-five so Lara could take her time and prepare for her next client.
"I'll leave you to it," I said and stood, slipping on my jacket. "You're pretty busy for a Saturday."
"I have a client who works late all week, so this was the only time I could meet with him."
"Do you bill extra on weekends?"
"Not with this client." She smiled and walked me to the door. "My arrangement with him is the same as with you. This client has me on retainer. A nice fat juicy retainer so we don't worry about things like that." She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek and squeezed my arm. "Go home to your pretty wife and beautiful baby. Forget about the video and the letter. Send me a great pic of your half-naked body and we'll destroy the defense's claim that the video is you. Once they see your body, they'll know."
"I hope so," I said and gave her a smile.
"Make sure to send me a scan of the letter before you give it to the police, okay? For my files."
"I will. See you."
"Take care, and Drake?" she said and came to me at the door. "Don't worry. All of this will blow over. You just have to be patient."
"I'll try."
Then she closed the door and I went down to the street where John was waiting by the car.
Of course, John wanted to see the letter. Once we got back to the apartment, John came up and reviewed the letter.
"I'll let people in the security detail know to keep a lookout for any of Lisa's family members. Just in case."
"Thanks," I said. "I'll call the police."
Then John left and I took out my cell and called Detective Gates, who was my contact in the police department. I told him about getting the letter and what it said.
"Can you bring the letter to the precinct? I'd like to keep it in evidence. We'll return it when the case is over."
"Sure," I said. "I'm glad to get rid of it, to tell the truth."
"I'm sure you are. I'll speak to the hospital about Ms. Monroe and see what they have to say. I'm surprised she was able to send you a letter, given the situation. She may have had a family member send it for her."
"Whatever the case, I don't like that my wife is threatened by someone in a psychiatric hospital."
"I understand. Thanks for calling. You can drop the letter off at the front desk. I'll let the duty officer know to expect you."
"Thanks."
And that was it. I took the letter to the precinct, John driving me there and back, and dropped the letter off with the duty officer.
Then, Kate and I tried to put the letter and the threat it contained out of our minds.
Kate
Later that week, when Drake was out playing racquetball with Dave, Karen Mills came by and sat with Sophie while I went to see my studio space. Mike, my bodyguard drove me there.
"Let me check it out first," he said and went inside before me, checking the space out. A few of the other artists gave him dark looks, wondering why he was there so I decided I'd have to have a little talk to them after Mike left.
"All clear," Mike said to me and gave me a nod. "I'll be outside. Luckily there's a bench across the street. I can watch the building from there. If you need me, I'm on my cell."
"Thanks, Mike."
I watched him take the stairs back down to the street and went back inside the studio. Then, I went to each of the spaces and spoke with the other residents, letting them know that I had a bodyguard due to a physical threat to me and that he would usually check the place out before I arrived to make sure it was secure.
I apologized but most of the other artists were pretty laid back about it.
Finally satisfied that I had done my part to smooth the way, I went into my own space and sighed. I went to the window and sure enough, there was Mike, dressed in his overcoat, sunglasses, reading a newspaper, glancing up and down the street every now and then to check things out.
Before we went to California, we'd sold my studio space in Chelsea so I was lucky to get back on the schedule at the old place and was even happy to see the old faces I remembered from before.
When I went out into the main area for some paper towels, I saw Jules standing by the main entrance, tying his shoes.
"Hey," Jules said when he saw me. "You're back."
"I am," I said and smiled when he leaned over and gave me a pat on the shoulder.
"I heard about your accident and that you went to Cali. How come you're
back? Too much sunshine?"
I laughed. "No. We both felt like Manhattan is our real home. We loved California, but Drake's son Liam is living here with his grandmother and so we wanted to be close to him."
Jules nodded. "Good to have you back. We have a few new faces. I'm going for coffee. Want some?"
"If you could get me a chai tea, that would be great."
"Sure," he said and waved his hand when I reached into my pocket to get some money. "Dude, I got this."
"Thanks," I said, smiling that he called me Dude. I watched him leave, then went to my space, excited to see it again and get back into the swing of things. I loved my studio space. I felt energized when I entered and looked out the window at the busy street below. I saw Jules walking down the street to the local Starbucks and sighed, taking my canvas and my paints over to the easel so I could get back into my painting.
For the next fifteen minutes, I fixed my paints and got everything set up so I could spend a couple of hours working on the piece. Jules returned and brought in my chai tea. He glanced over my canvas, made a few appreciative remarks on it, and left me alone.
I turned on my radio and listened to a local music station -- modern hits of the past decade. In between songs, the news came on and I was shocked to hear one of the reporters mention Drake by name.
"They call him Doctor Dominant, and he's quite the romantic." Then, she read from one of Drake's letters to his submissives.
A letter to my sub.
You trust me completely to know what you need.
And I do know what you need. I know what to whisper in your ear to make you need me even more. I know how to touch, where to touch, when to touch.
I know you.
I've known every part of you – every naked inch, inside and out.
You can relax completely with me. You can feel everything possible with me. You can respond with total abandon with me.
It is what I most desire.
I can't wait to bind you with my soft leather restraints and make you cry out my name as you come, again and again. Then I will kiss you, smothering your moans with my mouth...
I remembered it well -- it was one of the reasons I wanted to meet Drake and talk to him. I secretly fantasized about meeting someone like the writer of those letters -- someone who knew me so well and made me feel desired and cared for. He really got into a submissive's mind and made them feel cherished.
That was something Drake did so well. Once again, I felt lucky to have him.
But I didn't like the fact that it was more publicity about Drake and his relationship with Lisa. She must have provided those letters to the reporter. Or someone did who wanted to distract from Lisa's guilt.
I knew if I didn't know Drake and I saw a picture of him and read those letters, I'd want him. I also knew that there would be dozens of young women who would send Drake love letters and invitations to become their Dominant. It happened before we left Manhattan and while Lara tried to keep it from me, I found out anyway. I found it amusing, but I had to admit it made me feel a little jealous. Not that I worried Drake would ever cheat on me. He wasn't that kind of man. But I was jealous that other women would get the chance to see into Drake's mind the way I had.
He was mine.
I wanted to keep him all to myself.
I sighed and turned the station after the news report on the letters and the trial finished.
About half an hour later, my cell dinged. I checked and saw a text from Drake.
DRAKE: Hey, Mrs. Morgan. What do you feel like for supper? Fancy some steak and salad?
I texted him back.
KATE: Sounds good. How are you doing, Doctor Delish? I heard one of your letters being read over the airwaves.
DRAKE: What? Don't tell me they're going to resurrect those old letters again...
KATE: Yes. One of your letters to your new submissives. Someone must have sent a copy to the station and they had real fun reading it on air. You should have heard the banter between the news reporters. They really liked your prose. There was a great deal of snickering and giggling.
DRAKE: I'm sure they had fun. UGH. What else will come out? I hope someone else doesn't leak any real video. This fake video is pretty bad. But Lara wants to leak a real pic of me naked from the waist up in my swim trunks to prove that fat dude with the hair isn't me.
I smiled at that, thinking that now, not only would the women of Manhattan get to read Drake's very sexual and sensual and Dominant letters to his submissives, they'd get to see his very delicious body, next to naked in his swim trunks.
KATE: I don't know if I want to share your glorious body with the world. It's mine. All mine. You promised me that you were mine -- every inch I seem to recall you telling me. I want to hold your every inch to that promise.
DRAKE: I will gladly let you hold my every inch, anytime, Ms. Bennet. How about tonight?
I laughed at that, imagining him holding it against me.
KATE: Tonight sounds divine. Make sure you don't let Sophie sleep too long or else she won't be sleepy at her usual bedtime.
DRAKE: I'll make sure she wakes up on time. How's the studio? Feel like old times? Don't tell me that flaky guy is there -- what was his name? Jules with the long hair?
KATE: Yes, Jules is still here. He provides comic relief for the place. Seriously, Drake, Jules is really sweet in a very laid back SOCAL way. He really belongs in California.
DRAKE: Tell him to stay away from you or there'll be swords at dawn between us.
KATE: LOL if you knew Jules, you'd never worry about me. He has all these artsy-type skater girls hanging around his studio. I'm probably an old woman to him. In fact, I suspect he doesn't even see me as a woman. He actually called me Dude.
DRAKE: Guys today call everyone Dude, Kate. There is no way Jules doesn't think of you as a woman. That would never be possible. You're a delicious MILF.
KATE: OMG don't say that!
DRAKE: Seriously delicious MILF. More like MIIF.
KATE: ??
DRAKE: Mother I Intend to Fuck
KATE: DRAKE MORGAN!
I laughed as I re-read his texts, glad that he seemed to be in a good mood, all things considered.
KATE: I better get back to work. See you at five-ish.
DRAKE: Love you.
KATE: Love you back even harder.
DRAKE: Believe me, when it comes to loving you back, I'm harder. ;)
KATE: :) I hope so.
I turned off my cell and slipped it back into my bag, smiling to myself as I did. I loved Drake so much, I felt like I could face anything as long as he was there, waiting for me to get home, sleeping in my bed, eating meals with me, making love to me, being the father to my child.
I went back to my current painting and examined it, then set to work trying to accomplish what I hoped with the piece. When the news came on, I was about to change the station again but of course the report included a piece on the Richardson murder trial and despite my earlier plan to avoid the news, I decided to listen. More evidence had been leaked -- most likely by the defense trying to paint a picture of Lisa as a poor abused child, exploited by two adult men. It included an excerpt from Lisa's school counsellor when she was a teenager, and how she was particularly vulnerable to manipulation by father figures because of her experience of childhood sexual abuse.
It made me almost physically ill to think about Lisa being abused as a child. I couldn't imagine it, as pampered and protected as I had been growing up. I didn't even know about sex until I was ten when a babysitter talked about the dogs in the backyard mating. I thought they were playing piggy-back, but she said they were making babies. It was then I got the whole talk about the birds and the bees, not really believing it at first.
I turned down the sound, not wanting to get too upset about the case, distracting me from my art. Soon, I forgot about the news story about Lisa and was back into it. An hour passed, and then my cell calendar alert chimed, letting me know that it was time to leave. I
was deep into the painting and really felt like staying for another hour, but I wanted to make sure I was home on time. I put away my canvas, cleaned up my brushes and paints, and closed the door behind me, glad that I was lucky to have the studio space to come to when I wanted.
Of course, I had my space at home, but I liked getting out of the apartment and going to a dedicated studio. When I was at home, I always felt distracted, like I should be doing anything else but paint. Cleaning, especially. So, going out each day for a couple of hours was a way to force myself to focus on my art. When I was at the studio, there were no distractions except the radio or internet and so I got a lot of work done without feeling guilt.
I exited the building and went onto the sidewalk outside, and of course saw Mike right away when he hopped out of the car and opened the rear door for me.
"I feel so bad making you wait," I said when I went up to the car.
"It's my job, ma'am."
"I know, but still. It must get very boring."
He shook his head. "I listen to podcasts on my iPhone. Right now, I'm learning to speak French. When I sit in my car, I get to practice. It's a great job for what I want."
"That's good," I said. "Merci beaucoup."
"Pas de problème."
I smiled and got into the back of the car.
* * *
When I arrived home, I ran up the stairs to the apartment and went inside. After removing my coat and boots, I entered the kitchen to find Drake standing at the stove, stirring something on the burner. Supper was almost ready, and I could see two steaks resting on a tray by the stovetop. Sophie was seated in her high chair next to the kitchen island.
"Hello, sweetie," I said and went to her, kissing her cheek. She smiled at me, and continued to play with her baby crackers, shoving them into her mouth. "Were you a good baby for your daddy?"
"She was a very good baby," Drake said and came over to me, wiping his hands on his chef's apron. He kissed me, and then pulled me into his arms. "She woke up early and instead of letting her stay in her crib in case she fell back asleep, I got her right up. She'll be extra sleepy tonight at bedtime."
He wagged his eyebrows at that and I laughed.