“Oh, sorry.” She cast a small smile at the lawyer, turning away from the room. “I’ll come back in a bit.”
I lifted a hand to halt her. “It’s okay, Liv. This is Mr. Smythe, one of my estate representatives. I believe you’re familiar with his firm?”
Olivia’s eyes widen a fraction, recognition dawning, and she bites her lip. Her right hand drifts to the same side pocket of her scrub top and I wonder if that’s where she’s been keeping the offer all this time. Has she signed it? Will this morning’s events affect her decision? I find myself hoping it doesn’t, and that she will accept the offer because the idea of not seeing her face every day is something that suddenly bothers me a lot more than it should.
Mr. Smythe seizes the opportunity and stands, his bony little hand sticking straight out in greeting. Olivia reaches forward, hesitantly placing her hand in his, and gives a quick, perfunctory shake. It’s all I can do to hide the smirk. The lawyer isn’t much bigger than Olivia, but her presence overshadows his. Even sick, in her scrubs and sneakers, she looks more polished than him in his expensive suit and hundred-dollar hair cut. It might be time I rethink my choice of legal representation.
“Patrick Smythe.” Liv releases his hand and nods by way of acknowledgement. “I was hoping we could speak today about the offer of employment we extended to you last week?”
Olivia glances from him, to me, and back again. Her right eyebrow arches and she draws in a breath. “Right. Forgive me for not having submitted my response. I’ve been unusually busy lately.”
Smythe nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his knuckles and gave her a tight lipped smile. “Yes, well. Seeing as we’re both here. Would you mind?”
“Sure.” Olivia slipped her hand inside the large front pocket of her uniform and withdrew a crumpled envelope. She offered it to him and then spared me a glance. “I’ll be back in an hour for your physio. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Smythe. If you have any questions about my response, please feel free to send me an email. I’d prefer we discuss things... in private.”
My brows shot up at the guarded tone in her voice. In the week she’d been taking care of me, Olivia had never acted anything other than professional, courteous and kind to those around her. I watched her walk away and resolved to speak with her later when she came back to put me through the gamut of exercises detailed in my physiotherapy plan. One way or another, we were going to address the elephant in the room.
“Excellent,” Smythe’s voice drew my attention and I looked over to see him reading the document Olivia had handed him. Judging by the smile on his face, I assumed her response was a favorable one. He tucked the paperwork into his open briefcase and closed it with a decided click. “I’ll get these filed and we’ll get things in place for your release, Sir. Everything will be taken care of by the time you get home next week.”
I nod absentmindedly, already dismissing him as my thoughts turn to how things will be when I return home. With my eyes closed, I picture the house that I grew up in. I could almost feel the polished oak floors beneath my feet. A thick rug that I purchased on a trip to India covered the hardwood in the living room, and I knew it would feel soft and luxurious beneath my toes. Stainless steel appliances gleamed inside the professional kitchen I’d had installed a few years ago, and a set of industrial steel stairs led up to the second floor. I knew which rooms lay behind each door—except for one. My brows furrowed as I focused on the second door to the left. Why couldn’t I remember what was in that room?
I pushed harder, willing myself to remember what was in the room. Pain lanced my skull, forcing me to wince and work my way through it. A flash of pale, creamy skin, wide green eyes the color of mint leaves, and the hint of a red rubber ball scurried across my mind. I chased after the image like a rabbit down the hole. My memory played along this time, allowing me to mine the image and bring forth the full scene to play out in my mind’s eye.
She was beautiful, positioned on her knees at my feet. Her hands bound behind her back, drool seeped out from around the ball-gag and dripped from the tip of her pointed little chin. A slim band of leather circled her delicate throat, an O-ring secured to a leash hung from the middling point of the collar. Have you been a good girl, little one? I heard my own voice ask the submissive at my feet. She nodded, her eyes wide and filled with eagerness as she continued to look up at me. Are you sure, Kat? I asked her as I tapped a slotted oak paddle against my thigh. Because you know what happens to little girls who don’t tell the truth. Right? Again, she nodded, fat reddish curls bouncing with each bob of her head. She glanced at the paddle as it thwacked repeatedly against my thigh, a small furrow building between her brows. I had her worried. Perfect. Right where I wanted her.
Fuck. Olivia.
I shook off the memory, filing it away for closer examination later, and frowned at the tabletop strewn with papers. Along with the employment contract for Olivia, Mr Smythe had dropped off documents relating to a business venture I’d apparently taken part in with a few friends. He hadn’t wanted to elaborate further and simply urged me to look the documents over when I had a free moment. There was no time like the present. I picked up the sheaf of paper, flipped it open and scanned the pages.
My brows drew together the further I read. The document was a fiscal statement for an establishment that I, or my alias Master James, was majority shareholder of Club Stratosphere. I set the report aside and pulled my laptop closer, inputting a quick search for the club into the browser. What popped up on the screen sent my eyebrows shooting up in the opposite direction. A swinger’s club and BDSM dungeon? Jesus. Fuck.
Each image I scrolled through was foreign at first, but grew more familiar as I continued to look at them. One in particular caught my attention, and I stopped to examine it more closely. A couple, mid-scene, were the focus of the image. The submissive, a deliciously curvy little redhead, and her Dominant appeared ignorant of the camera trained on them. He held her chin in the palm of his hand, an undeniable tenderness in his eyes. Eyes downcast, her posture was one of complete trust and submission. He was me, and she was Olivia. Double fuck.
I pulled the pages back over and flipped through each one in search of my actual legal name. The thought of anyone at the MVPD finding out that I was part owner in anything like this… it boggled my mind and sent a chill down my spine. Who in the hell was I? This… This wasn’t the ‘me’ that I remembered. Better yet... Just how entangled was my life with that of the pretty little nurse who would be living with and taking care of me for the foreseeable future?
Chapter Nine
Olivia
Tonight was the night. The first one I’d have off since going to work in the Intensive Care unit. No patients to worry about. No need to be up before the robin that lived outside my bedroom window chirped its first good morning call. No responsibilities other than myself. Life was good today, and it was about to get better.
Melissa and I were dressed in our usual club attire. Her in a painted on vinyl cat-suit, and me in a cherry red leather micro-mini topped with the matching bustier. A pair of sky-high stilettos encased my stocking clad feet. I was ready, and willing, for whatever my favorite Dom at Club Stratosphere threw at me. It had been too long since my last visit, and I fully intended to have maximum fun.
The cab driver stopped along the curb outside the club and let us out beside the queue of people waiting to get inside. I handed over some cash, advised him to keep the change, and stepped out into the sultry evening heat. A hulking beast of a man guarded the door as we approached. The stern look on his face cracked into a wide smile of recognition when Mel and I stepped to the front of the line.
“Hey, Pat.” I smiled as he reached out and unclipped the rope keeping the people in queue from getting inside the club. Rocked up on my tip-toes, I brushed a kiss across his cheek.
He winked and, greeting me with the name I was known by at the club, motioned for us to pass through. “Hey, Kat. Long time no see.”
I nodded and gave him a rueful smile. “All work and no play. You know how it is.”
“Yup.” Pat gave me a wicked grin. “Makes for a dull Kitty Kat. Head on in. I’ll catch up with you girls later.”
Melissa and I made a quick stop at the hostess podium to sign in. We chatted with Becky, the submissive assigned to greet patrons and obtain signed waivers as they entered, and then made our way into the more public bar area of the club. The crowd was a mix of men and women. A vast majority of the females were scantily clad, others covered from chin to toe, and the men were in various states of dress ranging from jeans and dress shirts, to full on business suits with ties. I hid a smile as we wandered through. It was always interesting to see the variety of people who flocked to Stratosphere to check out the goings on.
A royal blue door marked the division between the swinger’s part of the club and the dungeon. Access to this section was restricted to authorized members exclusively, and granted via digital thumb scan. A little over the top and super secret spy like, but if it allowed the owners to sleep at night, who was I to judge. Melissa pressed her thumb to the pad, waited for the green light and proceeded through. Tailgating was strictly forbidden, and required me to wait until the door closed once more so that I could complete my own verification check. The process was tedious, but none of the members complained. Member safety was paramount, and the club took it seriously.
Melissa waited for me on the other side of the door once I made my way through. We turned together to check out the board which catalogued the Dominants available for the evening. Another list to the left detailed the submissives looking to be Topped. A third, much shorter listing advertised the House Doms in residence. I scanned this last one and pouted when I discovered that the Master I’d hoped to play with wasn’t available.
“No Master James tonight?” Mel nudged me with her shoulder, her eyes already scanning the crowd behind us.
I shook my head and joined her, linking our arms together as we entered the room. “Nope. Guess I’m settling for a half-assed whooping instead of the thorough one Master James gives me.” She chuckled and I grinned. “What? You know it’s true. None of the others can do it like He does.”
Melissa nodded as we walked toward the bar area. A submissive dressed in nothing but a thick, studded leather collar smiled from behind the highly polished bar. We placed our drink orders and turned to observe the goings on while we waited. Various stations were setup throughout the space. Across from where we stood, a Saint Andrews cross was occupied by a beautifully bound blond submissive. The Dominant beside her glanced in our direction and gave us a small wave as he uncoiled a single tail whip from the array of implements hung on the wall. I recognized him by the tattoo covering his left shoulder. Master Mike, a Dominant of the single tail whip and beg-me-to-stop persuasion. I’d played with him once, and decided he was not my cup of tea. My preference was impact play. The more thud, the better, in my opinion.
With our drinks in hand, Mel and I settled in to watch the show. Master Mike was poetry in motion as the whip arced across his sub’s back. She flinched with each strike, but showed no other outward signs of being affected by the blows he rained down on her. On the central stage, Sir Rob and his delectable little redheaded sub were putting on a show with a variety of floggers. Suspended by their signature yellow rope, Ellie was a thing of beauty as she hung from the heavy frame. Her thighs glistened with her own juices; a sure sign that she was very much enjoying what Sir Rob was doing with his tools. I’d never had the pleasure of playing with the renowned rigger. He was a popular guy, and more often than not chose to play with his lovely wife, Ellie. A shame, really—the man was incredible with rope, and hot.
Scenes unfolded around us in the dim light and thumping bass beats of music the disc jockey spun. The smell of sex mingled with the sounds of pleasure and pain, perfuming the air with a heady, intoxicating mix. Couples, groups of threes, fours and more engaged in whatever kinks suited their fancies. I let my gaze drift over them all, seeking out the one who would give me what I wanted and needed... or close enough to it. Without Master James around, I’d have to settle for second best tonight and hope he was in residence the next time I visited the club.
“Hey, kitty kat.” A familiar voice attached to a large, muscled body whispered in my ear. I turned, and smiled at Master Matt. He grinned in return and settled his right elbow on the edge of the bar, the picture of ease and sexiness. The man was lollipop lickable, but a hardcore sadist and not my type of playmate. “Looking for your Master?”
I smirked and glanced at him from the corner of my eye. “You know he’s not my Master, or anyone else’s. None of the Masters have full-time subs, Sir.”
He chuckled, the sound deep and rich, like dark chocolate as it flowed over me. The urge to lick him tugged at me once more. Sex on a stick, that’s what he was. Muscles stacked upon muscles, crystal blue eyes and a smile so wicked it melted a girl’s panties off, provided she had any on to begin with. “You’re right. We don’t.” As owners of the club, the five Masters as they called themselves, kept themselves free of entanglements. Not public ones, anyway. A couple of them wore what could pass for a wedding ring, and others didn’t. Either way, no one pried. It wasn’t any of our business what they did in their club, or outside of it. Their identities were a closely guarded secret, and anyone caught trying to poke around in their affairs was dealt with in a swift, harsh manner.
“But you know the real truth to that, kitty kat.” He let his eyes scan the room, expression bored and relaxed. “Your Master isn’t here. He’s been out of commission for a few weeks now, little one.” Master Matt pushed a big hand through the thick, black waves of his hair and turned to face me directly, a pointed look on his face. “There was a little... accident, shall we say, at his day job. Master James won’t be back for quite some time.”
I let the information sink in, puzzled as to why he would disclose so much about his friend’s personal situation. He pushed off the edge of the bar and gave me a secretive smile. “Think about it, kitty kat. You’ll understand what I’m talking about if you put that big brain of yours to work. I know you’re a smart one underneath all that red leather.”
Master Matt walked away, his broad back and tight backside drawing my eye as I mulled over what he’d said. I was missing something. But what?
Melissa nudged me with her left elbow and I turned to face her. She gave me a ‘holy-shit’ look that made me narrow my eyes. “Dude. Tell me you figured that out. Please.”
I bit my lip, mulling over the information once more. The pieces began to fit together, and a chill slithered down my spine as each one clicked into place. Holy hell. I closed my eyes and let out a soul deep sigh. Fate was being a complete and total bitch—one I intended to hunt down and smack the ever-loving crap out of, and soon.
“Yeah,” I groaned and sank against the bar, defeated. “I got it, and I’m so, so fucked, Mel. You have no idea how bad this is. Like, epic shit storm bad.”
She gave me a look that said ‘spill it, sistah’ but I couldn’t bring myself to tell her just how completely messed up this situation was becoming. My patient, and long time rockstar crush, was also the man we both knew as Master James. It made sense to me now. John James Lopez. JJ Boom. All three were the same person, and I was in so deep they’d need a backhoe to dig me out.
Chapter Ten
Olivia
After Master Matt’s little bomb drop, the night was ruined for me in terms of being able to relax and have any fun. It was clear that he’d figured out who I was, and made the connection to the hospital. My mind whirled throughout the night, and the next day as I tried, and failed, to figure out which of Lopez’s visitors had matched the general appearance of the club Master.
I’d planned to work through my day off, scrubbing and prepping his home to make sure that everything he needed was in place when he arrived, but my heart caught in my throat when I pulled up to the curb. I knew this house. I’d been inside of it
once.
Seated in my car, I looked out the passenger side window of my Prius and stared up at the craftsman style house. The Masters had hosted an off-site party the previous summer—something they did on a very rare occasion. A select group of members were invited, and I was counted amongst the lucky few to attend that Fourth of July weekend. Master James had delivered the invitation himself one night after a particularly intense session together at Club Stratosphere. My strength and passion impressed him, he’d said, and because of that, I was invited to attend the exclusive weekend event held at his home. To say that I was honored would have been an understatement.
Ten minutes went by as I stared at the house and remembered what quantified as one of the most amazing weekends of my life. I’d discovered the edges of my limits, and been pushed beyond them by the man who, by some strange turn of events, was now my patient and employer.
The Thursday had started out as most did. I’d gone in to work at the clinic, making my way through a quiet day with only a few patients to see between bits of catching up on paperwork. As soon as three o’clock hit, I was out of the office and headed home to get ready for my four-day weekend.
My invitation indicated the party would begin at eight p.m., which gave me ample time to pack the necessary items, shower and dress as per the instructions Master James had included for me. When I showed up on the doorstep at eight twenty—dressed in a fishnet body stocking beneath a long jacket, sky-high heels and a smile—I was fashionably late, but not early enough to appear over-eager. A submissive, naked with the exception of a thick posture collar around her neck, greeted me and ushered me inside. She kept her eyes downcast and her hands behind her back as we walked through the entrance and into what appeared to normally be the living and dining area.
Sweet Surrender (Club Stratosphere Book 2) Page 5