“I can’t afford an attorney,” Mallory said.
“I’m sure he’d give you a free consultation,” Seth said.
“Not knowing all the details,” Tony added, “I’d have to agree with your friend here. It sounds to me like something isn’t right. Or at the very least, your uncle is hiding something from you.”
“A trust like that,” Ross chimed in, “would likely go to you at age eighteen or twenty-one. Those are two pretty standard benchmarks.”
Mallory seemed to grow increasingly uncomfortable with all their attention, good intentions or not, focused on her. “I know. I just haven’t had the time or energy to fight him on it yet,” she said. “I didn’t mean to derail the conversation. Sorry.”
“I think I derailed the conversation,” Chelbie said. “At least now you know it’s not just me thinking something stinks.”
Mallory’s discomfort washed off her in waves. Kel squeezed her hand one final time before releasing it. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to put you in the spotlight,” he said. “Let’s get back to talking about rope.”
She gratefully nodded and picked up her fork. She’d only ordered a salad for her entrée despite him encouraging her to order whatever she wanted.
At one point, she excused herself to the bathroom. Kel thought Chelbie would get up and go with her, but she remained in her seat, watching until her friend was out of sight.
Then she leaned in toward Kel. “You know what that fucker texted her?” she whispered.
“Who?”
“Her damn uncle.”
“What?”
“He demanded to know where she was, and that she come home immediately to talk about her grad school application. I’m telling you, the guy is whacked. Thank you for helping me pummel that through her brain. I don’t think she wants to make waves, but I’m about ready to move her out of there my damn self if I have to.” She reached for her own phone and started texting. “And I’m going to tell him off.”
He reached out and touched her hand. “You sure that’s wise?”
“I know that whatever’s going on, it started when Mallory hit eighteen. I’m not talking parental concern. I’m talking obsessive movie-of-the-week creepy.” Her fingers flew over her screen. “There.” She hit send.
“What’d you text him?”
“I told him that Mal was with me, and she would be spending the night with me, and that we are out with friends.” She grinned as she slipped the phone back into her purse. “And that he could kiss my lily white ass if he doesn’t like it.”
She fished Mallory’s phone out of her purse and waited, then grinned as she intercepted a call and sent it straight to voice mail. She glanced up, watching for Mallory. A voice message must have appeared, because Chelbie thumbed that, then deleted it.
Then she turned off the ringer and tucked Mallory’s phone into her own purse. “I’m sure he’ll be plenty pissed off by tomorrow night. Maybe enough to bring things to a head.”
“I don’t ever want you mad at me.”
She grinned. “You’re right. You don’t.”
Chapter Eight
Mallory realized as they were leaving the restaurant that her phone wasn’t in her purse. When she stopped in the foyer and shot Chelbie a warning look, Chelbie shot one back that cowed her.
“You don’t get your phone back tonight, girlie,” she said. “I shall take charge of it for you. No Uncle Buzzkill to upset you tonight.”
“Why? Did he say something else besides that text?”
“Does it matter if he did or didn’t?” She hooked her arm through Mallory’s and started leading her out to the car. “All I know is I’m happy with what you and Kel talked about. If I didn’t know firsthand that the guy knows his rope, I would still be happy with you playing with him tonight. You’re going to relax and have fun and feel safe and know that I’ve got your back.”
Kel had hung back, talking with Seth and a couple of others. Now he caught up with them, giving Mallory a playful smile that threatened to melt her panties.
“Okay, so on to the club,” he said, pointing at her. “You are the only person on my dance card tonight, as far as I’m concerned. As long as you want to play, we’ll play. Deal?”
She nodded, not even needing Chelbie’s friendly poke in the side. “Deal.”
“Good. Thank you for trusting me,” he said. “I’ll do my best not to let you down.”
“Thank you.”
Chelbie had driven them to the restaurant in her car, a yellow VW Bug Mallory adored even though it felt tiny and cramped compared to her four-door Honda Civic. “Do I need to give you an additional pep talk before we get there,” Chelbie asked, “or are you good to go?”
“I’m good to go. I think. I hope.”
“Stop it. If I didn’t think he was being sincere, do you think I’d let you play with him?”
“You are going to make someone a wonderful drill sergeant when you get married, you know that?”
She grinned. “I think the words you’re looking for are overprotective and snarky.”
“Those will work,” Mallory agreed.
Mallory had opted to wear a black maxi skirt and a colorful blouse that didn’t make her stand out too much. She only owned one corset, a black one, that while she liked it, it was uncomfortable as hell to wear for too long.
Kel pulled into the club’s parking lot right behind them, leaving Mallory no chance to talk Chelbie into letting her flee.
Then again, when she got another look at the man, did she really want to run? She’d never seen him pull any pranks or act mean to anyone at the club. Had never heard anything bad about him. From their talk at dinner, he genuinely seemed to want to play with her.
Why, she had no clue.
What do you call a pity fuck that doesn’t actually involve fucking?
They checked in with the staffer manning the front desk, paid their entry fee, and followed Kel into the playspace. Tonight it looked different, the overhead lights turned off, and in their place various colored lights and soft spots illuminating the playspace and straddling the fine line between safely lit and mood lighting. There were already a few people there, some she recognized, some she didn’t.
Chelbie took her hand and squeezed it. “Relax,” her friend said. “Tonight is about fun. Fun, fun, fun.”
“That’s what you keep saying.”
“And I’ll keep saying it until you’re having it.”
The large suspension frame Scrye had used earlier lay vacant. Kel carried his bags over there, and Mallory, led by Chelbie, followed.
He turned to her and offered her a kind smile. “Okay, for starters, do you have any objections to me touching you?”
Chelbie took Mallory’s purse off her arm and backed away, sitting by one of the frame’s uprights to watch.
Mallory shook her head. “No. I mean, for tying. I don’t play…sexually,” she finally forced out of her mouth.
He smiled. “Gotcha. Incidental contact is okay, outright groping isn’t.”
* * * *
Kel struggled to keep his cock under control. As Mal nodded, her face filled with that gorgeous pink flush again. He had her hold out her arms so he could assess her upper body strength and then palpate her shoulders, hips, and ribcage through her clothes.
“Is that an underwire bra?”
“Yes?”
“Do you have something else you can change into? Or would you be okay with me tying you topless? I’m afraid that will cut into you in a bad way if I tie over the top of it.”
She looked like she was going to burst into tears. “You know, it’s okay. I didn’t think about that, I usually only play with—”
“How about I give her my shirt?” Chelbie called out. She wore a black tank top over her bra. “I don’t mind walking around with the girls out.”
While Kel would have paid money to see the fabric of Chelbie’s shirt tightly stretched across Mallory’s breasts, he could tell from Mallory’s reaction that it wouldn’t be an optio
n, either.
Inspiration struck. “Ha. Hold on.” He unbuttoned his shirt, stripped off his undershirt, and handed it to her. “There. Problem solved.”
The added personal satisfaction of her wearing his T-shirt only added to his fun.
She held on to it for a second, as if trying to decide how to say no before she finally nodded. “Okay. Let me go put it on.” She dashed off before he could say anything else.
Chelbie giggled from her spot by the upright as Kel pulled his shirt back on and buttoned it. “Oh, my gawd, chief. Step up your game a little. That was a good move, but she’s like a scared rabbit.”
He walked over to Chelbie and looked down at her. She didn’t flinch, didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed. “I’m not trying to play her,” he insisted.
“I know, and that’s the problem.” She pointed at his jeans. “Dude, that’s either a hard cock, or you’re the butchest damn lesbian I’ve ever seen and packing a massive plastic dong in there. I could feel the electricity between the two of you at dinner. I watched you watching her this afternoon. Sneaking little glances at her when you were supposed to be taking pictures. Buck up, buttercup. I’m cheering for whichever team will bat a home run to get her to feel good about herself. You want into the lineup, all you have to do is step up to the plate.”
He had no idea how to respond to any of that. Being at a loss for words wasn’t something he was used to, either.
The red-haired pixie grinned up at him. “Some people have a hard time getting used to my forthright style of communication.”
“No shit.”
“Well, I’ve seen where playing coy and passive-aggressive gets some women. I’d rather go straight for aggressive-aggressive and ditch the passive part.”
When Mal returned a moment later wearing his T-shirt, the sight of her took his breath away and kicked all thoughts of his odd conversation with Chelbie out of his head.
She still wore her skirt, but when she returned to the A-frame, she kicked off her sandals, pulled down her skirt, and neatly folded it, laying her blouse and bra on top of the pile by Chelbie.
When she turned back to him, his T-shirt pulled snug across her breasts and the hem hanging down just to her ass, he knew he’d have a hard time focusing on this particular tie. Normally, he could compartmentalize when doing a scene. Unless he was sexually involved with someone, it was stupidly easy for him to focus only on the mechanics of what he was doing and not get hot and bothered.
Mal had him hot and bothered.
Borderline flustered.
Again, not something he was used to feeling.
Finding his calm, peaceful center would prove difficult tonight if he couldn’t stop thinking about how gorgeous she looked wearing his T-shirt.
He opened his rope bags and emptied them, quickly organizing the rope by color and length. He knew from the size of the rope braids which coils were of which length. He had a lot more rope back at his apartment, different colors, weights, materials, most of which he reserved for his own photo shoots. Hemp was one of his favorites, but some models didn’t like working with it.
Even fewer liked working with the coconut fiber rope that was even coarser than hemp.
For rigging at the club, he used mostly black and red rope, in both quarter-inch and five-sixteenths widths, a multifilament poly that was solid, smooth, didn’t stretch too much, and had never let him down. The specialty MFP wasn’t like the stiff, plastic rope that could be found in most hardware stores. He ordered it in bulk from an online rope supplier who dealt with the kinky population. He liked the rope especially because he could wash it periodically without ruining it.
He pulled out his rigging ring and hung it from the climbing carabiner already attached to the frame. Then he dragged a chair over and quickly tied a rope anchor around the ring and frame for extra support. Not that he didn’t trust the carabiner, which he knew was rated to five hundred pounds, but he believed in a policy of better safe than sorry.
He’d only dropped one person during a suspension, and that had been early on in his training. A carabiner he’d thought had been rated for climbing had failed. Fortunately, she’d landed mostly on him as he’d lunged to catch her. While she’d been uninjured, he’d twisted his back.
Lesson learned.
He knew the carabiner on this frame was rated, because against its black surface he could still see his initials in white paint from when he’d installed it himself a few months back.
Since he frequently used the rig, he made sure to swap the hardware out from time to time.
And still, after pulling the chair away, he reached up, grabbed the ring, and swung from it to ensure it was secure.
That done, he stood before Mal and gently stroked her upper arms. “You all right?”
She nodded.
He smiled. “Nervous?”
She nodded.
“It’s okay to be nervous. I just hope I don’t disappoint you.”
Apparently that’d been exactly the right thing to say to her, because her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Disappoint me? I think you have that backward.”
“You won’t disappoint me,” he insisted. “I, however, know you watched Scrye the Guy spend a couple of hours tying his wife this afternoon. Those are pretty big shoes to fill. Literally.”
She finally smiled. “I’ve watched you rig before,” she softly said. “I think you’re better than Scrye.”
“Aww, thank you. I appreciate that. Wasn’t fishing for a compliment, but I’ll take it.”
With the ice finally completely broken, he started working on the chest harness first. He wouldn’t deny he tied it in such a way as to accentuate and lift her full breasts, her nipples tautly peaked against the fabric of his T-shirt.
That is now my favorite T-shirt.
He took his time, going slower than he normally would both to make sure she was all right and because he selfishly wanted to savor the moment. He wanted this to be special for her, to be fun. To be something she’d enjoy.
Hopefully, something she’d want to repeat with him.
Repeatedly.
Chapter Nine
Despite her initial bout of nerves, Mallory discovered if she focused on the sound of Kel’s voice that the noises in the rest of the club seemed to slip away.
“How you doing?” he asked as he tied another rope around her and started forming the hip harness.
She closed her eyes so she couldn’t see the people starting to gather a respectful distance around the perimeter of the A-frame. “Green.” She snapped her mouth shut on the “Sir” that wanted to follow it right along behind, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to say.
They barely knew each other. She couldn’t just start calling him Sir. Hell, she didn’t even call most of the Tops she scened with on a regular basis Sir because they weren’t her Dominant. She only ever called two of them Sir, men who were much older than her, and only because it felt like they were kinky adopted dads. A sign of respect, not just an honorific or a protocol-driven label.
After what felt like forever, Kel started running ropes through the ring and the rope harnesses tied to her. She wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing, because she’d kept her eyes closed for most of it, enjoying the feel of his hands against her, even if it wasn’t meant in an intimate way.
I should have told him he could grope me. I’m an idiot.
“Okay,” he said, standing in front of her. “I want you to hold on to my shoulders. Keep your feet where they are, and let me guide you. I promise, you won’t fall.”
She looked into his brown eyes and nodded. In her peripheral vision, she noted that Tony and Seth were now acting as spotters, standing by the frame’s uprights, close, but not intrusively so. She wondered if Kel was going to have them help him get her in the air when he slowly started backing away from her. She realized he had a couple of lengths of rope in his hands, and as she started to pitch forward, the harnesses tightened against her as he took the slack out
of the suspension ropes.
“You doing okay?”
She nodded. “I’m okay.”
“If it hurts, tell me. Don’t tough it out just because you think that’s what I want to hear. It’ll be easy to make an adjustment.”
“Okay.”
He took another step back. “Pick up one foot.”
She did and realized she was now being supported by the ropes.
He took a wrap of rope around his arms and dipped his knees, and she let out a little cry of surprise when she found herself gently swinging back and forth, facedown, completely off the ground.
He took another pull on the ropes and she felt herself rise a few more inches before he secured the ends and double-checked everything.
Then he gently caught her shoulders and knelt in front of her. “You’re flying.”
She smiled. “I am, aren’t I?”
From her spot, Chelbie gave a whoop. “Superman, baby!”
Kel smiled. “You want to?”
She knew what that meant, had seen plenty of other people do it. She nodded, holding her arms out in front of her. He stepped around to her legs, pulled her back, then gave her a hard shove that sent her sailing out into space.
Chelbie cheered. “Whoo! Fly, girlie, fly!”
Kel kept close watch on her to make sure she didn’t run the risk of hitting one of the uprights or any of the spectators, but kept pushing her back and forth, spinning her in different directions before sending her out again.
She loved it.
Why did I wait?
This was fanfuckingtastic. She heard Tony and Seth occasionally reminding people to step back and fending off people who wanted to get close and talk to Kel. Which she thought was odd, because she’d seen him talk to others plenty of times while rigging people, unless it was during a critical point in the tie.
She didn’t care.
Whee!
Laughter filled the air and it took her a second to realize it belonged to her.
Best. Night. Ever.
* * * *
Kel surreptitiously checked on Mallory’s hands and feet as he spun and pushed her, making sure it didn’t feel like her circulation was impeded. After about twenty minutes, he noticed her wiggling a little, as if trying to get comfortable. That’s when he stepped in, putting his arms around her, making her hold on to his shoulders again.
His Canvas [Suncoast Society] (Siren Publishing Sensations) Page 6