The Drake Restrained Collection: Part 1 and 2 (The Drake Series Book 3)

by Lund, S. E.

  The other two band members were Johnny Mears who played keyboards and Cliff Walters on lead guitar and vocals. I played acoustic guitar, bass guitar and sang. We met in college and had been playing together ever since. Sometimes, I thought it was merely so we could spend time together,. None of us needed the paltry sum we earned each week.

  We were pretty tight as a band, having played together on and off for ten years. But we'd recently added some new tunes to the repertoire and tonight was a chance to practice before our big gig at The Front on Friday.

  I passed the dining room, which was almost empty, a few patrons lingering behind at white cloth-covered tables to finish their coffee and desserts, the lights low, candles on every table giving the room a romantic glow. As usual, the lounge styled in dark woods and decorations taken from a pub Ireland was full, the dozen small tables and banquettes filled with regulars. In the old days, before the smoking ban, a thick pall of smoke would hang over the crowd, but in the new Manhattan, the air was clear.

  Some canned music played over the sound system and the customers were busy talking and drinking while Colin O'Riley, Ken's younger brother, presided over the bar. The band would play on a small raised platform near the back of the lounge. Ken was there, finalizing the setup of a full drum kit. There were several amps in place, wires and electrical cords snaking through them.

  I put down my guitar cases and clapped Ken on the back. We embraced briefly in greeting.

  "How's it going?" Ken said as he lifted his top hat cymbal into place. A few years older than me, he was a tall lean man with a long face that seemed perpetually somber. "You had to tell your girl you’d make it another night, I take it?"

  "Nope. We had a quickie."

  "What?" Ken said and laughed. "You rogue. You know I live vicariously through you. I'm lucky if I get sex on the weekend when the kids are finally asleep."

  I grinned, although the quickie was hardly satisfactory for me, but Ken didn't have to know it. He and the other guys had no idea about my preferences for kink. They only knew I had a series of girlfriends who I kept separate from the rest of my life.

  Although they often pushed me to bring whomever I was with at the time to meals at their homes, I refused politely. I claimed that my girlfriends were busy with school, which they usually were since most of them were students, and that we spent most of our time together in bed when we had the chance to see each other. Which was also the truth, except of course, that they were usually tied to the bedposts, blindfolded and gagged.

  I didn’t tell them that fact either, although I was certain it would make their day. If I did, I knew I’d be the butt of endless jokes about kink, so honesty wasn’t an option. My secret world remained just that – secret – from even my best friends.

  “So, when am I finally going to meet this young woman of yours? What’s her name? Alice?”

  “Allie,” I said. “Is the keyboard set up yet?” I glanced around the stage, trying to divert Ken from his well-intentioned attempts to meddle in my personal life.

  “Quit trying to change the subject,” Ken said, smiling. “You’ve been seeing her for what – a year?”

  “Eight months.”

  “So? What the hell are you waiting for? Bring her by the bar some night. I know mom would love to meet her.”

  “We’re not serious,” I said. “Just fuck buddies.”

  “Fuck buddies for eight months?”

  “She’s a student and is too busy for a real relationship. I’m not looking for a girlfriend. It’s just sex and it works out fine for us both.”

  “Mom worries about you. She thinks you still have a broken heart.”

  I laughed, but that thought bothered me. “My heart is made of stone,” I said and pounded my chest, smiling in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Tell her she shouldn’t worry. I’m fine.”

  “You have to get over Maureen, Drake. You need to find someone serious. No more fuck buddies, man. Find a woman you could love.”

  I didn’t say anything in the hopes he’d stop with the advice. No luck.

  "It’s been five years and you still haven’t had a steady woman. You only ever have fuck buddies and none of us has met a single one of them. That’s not healthy.”

  “Hey, I’m living the dream,” I said, a little too angrily. “Sex with no strings. No emotion. Look, I’m not planning on getting married again, so let it drop, OK?”

  Ken watched silently while I set up my bass guitar. I felt his disapproval, and finally met his gaze.

  He shook his head. “Let's get the keyboard." Ken led me to the back of the bar and the door to the basement. We kept some equipment stored there, and so we went down to the room beside the wine cellar and carried up the keyboard. We spent the next quarter of an hour setting up, waiting for the other guys to arrive.

  Thankfully, Ken dropped the subject of my personal life.

  Once the other guys arrived, and we did a sound check, Colin took the mic at the front of the stage to announce us, not that the usual crowd wasn't already familiar with us and our music.

  "And now, back by popular demand and with a new selection of Brit Invasion tunes, please give a round of applause for our own Ken O'Riley's Brit Invasion cover band Mersey."

  Colin turned to us and bowed and we all bowed back, me standing to the left of the stage, Ken on drums, Johnny on keyboards and Cliff on lead to my right. We started with a series of Beatle's oldies, No Reply, And I Love Her, and then In My Life. Cliff took the lead on vocals since he was the closest in sound to John Lennon, but I did background vocals. As we played, I watched the patrons. They stopped talking and turned to listen, responding to the song and the Sixties sound. It was going to be a good crowd.

  We'd added in a few new songs, most from the Stones, and playing at O'Riley's gave us a chance to perfect them. We'd performed once already on Wednesday at Mickey's, a small club in Chelsea, and had practiced the previous Sunday at O'Riley's during the day, so we weren’t quite as tight as we would be with our usual playlist.

  I took lead vocals on four new covers, Heart of Stone, Play With Fire, Under My Thumb and Paint It Black, all by The Rolling Stones. My voice was a bit lower in register and I more easily mimicked Jagger's saucy voice. I’d done a lot of role playing with my subs over the years and was more relaxed about performance. Plus, I enjoyed putting myself in Jagger’s petulant bad-boy shoes.

  I liked all four new songs, and enjoyed playing my Gibson bass – my father's old instrument. Cliff and Ken provided background vocals on Heart of Stone. The crowd really seemed into it, and gave us a rousing round of applause when we finished. We moved right into Play With Fire, and then Under My Thumb without stopping. I loved playing the bass line in Under my Thumb and because the bass was so important, it was one of my favorite new covers.

  Our final song of the set was Paint It Black, also by the Stones. It was hard driving and had a great rhythm. We still needed work to tighten up a bit but luckily, the Stones were always a bit loose and so our lack of practice didn’t really hurt too much.

  Our sound was right.

  We finished the set to a roar of applause and bowed before leaving the stage to go to the bar for a break. Our second set would be mostly The Yardbirds and The Animals – our usual. repertoire.

  I leaned against the bar and took the glass of water Colin poured for the four of us, and then the shots of tequila he also provided.

  We passed around the salt shaker, shot back the tequila and bit the limes.

  "Good set," Colin said after refilling the shot glasses. Then, he turned to me and pointed to the back of the lounge. "Your lady friend’s here."

  I frowned and turned to look where he pointed, thinking that maybe Lara had shown up. She occasionally came to our gigs to listen to us play, but it wasn't Lara.

  It was Allie.

  Allie showing up at O'Riley's was totally unacceptable.

  For a moment, I saw her the way the guys would -- tall, athletic and with pretty features. She was
beautiful. As if to please me and ward off my reprimand, she wore the black leather dress I liked and made her wear to dungeon parties. Her platinum blonde hair fell around her shoulders like satin and her makeup was perfect. Any man in the bar would have been pleased to have her at their beck and call.

  She was also wearing leather wristbands that I used to restrain her during our scenes, as if to remind me who I was to her.

  Her Master.

  Ken dog-whistled and leaned in close. "Is that her?"

  "It is," I said, not pleased to see her at O'Riley's. "Excuse me for a minute."

  "She's stunning," Cliff said, his eyes wide. "We never get to meet your mysterious women. I was starting to think you were lying about having a girl. Introduce us."

  "I don't think so," I said. "Maybe some other time."

  I left the three of them at the bar, knowing they would be gossiping about Allie while I was gone. I could almost feel their eyes on me as I threaded my way through the tables. A few customers stopped me to tell me they enjoyed the show, and I nodded, offering a polite thank you.

  When she saw me approaching the table, she forced a smile, but I could tell she knew I wouldn’t be happy.

  "Allie," I said and sat across from her. "You know this breaks the terms of our agreement."

  "I wanted to talk to you tonight."

  "We agreed to talk on Saturday night."

  "I didn’t want to wait that long." She reached across the table and took my hand. I wanted to pull my hand away, but didn’t want to cause a scene.

  "You shouldn't have come," I said.

  "After all this time, you still don’t want me to hear you play? Christ, Drake," she said, her voice filled with emotion. "It's been eight months. Don't I deserve some little scrap of humanity from you?"

  I pulled my hand away. "You have my complete and total focus sexually. That's all I can give, Allie. You knew that when you signed the contract."

  "The contract is just for show, Drake. You know it's unenforceable."

  "It is. If you're not happy with the terms, you can leave at any time."

  "Just like that?" She shook her head, her eyes bright but I could tell she was fighting her emotions. "You feel nothing for me beyond sex? I feel like you know me more deeply than anyone else has, ever."

  I glanced around, trying to decide how to handle her. I took in a deep breath and then leaned closer, my voice low but loud enough for her to hear me over the buzz of conversations around us.

  "Allie, I know you sexually. That's it. I don’t know anything else besides the fact you're a law student. Nothing.” I exhaled. “I don't know what color you like, or your favorite dessert, or what movie you watch over and over again when you're sick, or even what kind of music you like.”

  “I love you,” she said, her eyes brimming. “Don't you love me, even a bit?”

  “No you don’t love me. Look, Allie,” I said, trying not to be too harsh. “I've been married. I know what love is. You can't love me if you know nothing about me. I can’t love you if I know nothing about you."

  She forced a smile, as if to keep from crying.

  "Don't you want to know me? God, Drake, I have sex with you three times a week. You know my secret desires. Are you so heartless that you don't care to know me more deeply?"

  I sighed, exasperated. This was the talk I knew we'd have to have sooner or later. I hoped it would be later, because I still enjoyed Allie sexually, but she was transgressing the terms of our agreement. She was unable to keep it purely sexual.

  "I know about you," she said and squeezed my hand once more.

  "You weren't supposed to know anything about me. That was part of the contract. No asking questions, no doing research. No stalking."

  "I'm not stalking you. For Christ's sake I fuck you three times a week. How can I stalk you?"

  I shook my head, not sure of what to say.

  "I asked around. I did some research. You're a neurosurgeon at NYP. You play in the band. You've been in the lifestyle for five years since your divorce from a nurse who used to work with you. Your father's dead. Drake," she said and leaned in closer. "I could love you, if you let me."

  I shook my head. "Don’t do this. I can't do more. I don't want to do more." I sat in silence and we stared into each other's eyes as if waiting to see if the other would relent.

  Tears finally spilled out from her eyes.

  "I'm sorry," I said, shaking my head in disappointment. "I can't give more. You knew that when you signed."

  "If you can't give me more, then it's over."

  “I can’t.” I sighed and pulled out my keys from my jacket pocket and removed my key to Allie's apartment from my keychain. I placed it down firmly on the table across from her. "I didn't want to end it this way, but you're right. I guess it's over." I exhaled heavily as I slid it to her, exasperated that she was doing this now.

  She stared at the key, her expression one of disbelief, her eyes wide. I could see that her cheeks were red even in the darkness of the room. She didn't really believe I'd break off the relationship, probably hoping that the mere threat of it would push me closer.

  "Don’t do that," she said, her voice wavering. She pushed the key back towards me with a trembling hand. "Give me another chance. "

  I shook my head. "I already gave you a second and third chance. You crossed the line too many times." I kept my voice firm, although I, too, was upset. I just couldn’t see any way around it. "You know the rules."

  "You broke a promise. You promised to spend every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday evenings with me as long as we were together. I think I deserve to be upset."

  I held up my hand. "I promised unless circumstances arose that were beyond my control. Mersey got an extra gig, and it was a chance to get more practice in before our big show on Friday. I had no choice."

  "You always have a choice." Her voice broke and she brushed tears from her cheeks quickly. "You choose to put your band ahead of me. You choose to be unknowable, as if you can keep things all neat and tidy between us. All you want is a few good orgasms a week so that nothing like real emotion interferes with your perfect little life."

  "You knew when you signed my contract that we would just be play partners, nothing more," I countered, but her assessment of me stung just a bit. "You told Lara and you told me you didn’t want anything more."

  "After all this time?" Her tears were flowing now. "You couldn't find it in your heart to let me come and listen to your band play? You are heartless."

  I shook my head. Other men might give in, try to make things work, but I couldn't have her breaking the terms of our contract that way. If I let her, she'd try to break all the terms, and that wouldn't do.

  Three times in the past month, she'd tried to go beyond the careful margins I'd drawn between my life as a Dominant and the rest of my life as a surgeon and musician.

  She'd asked me to stay the night once after a very long session where I had tried some new rope tricks with her. I'd refused. I didn't stay with my submissives. It was a Tuesday and I had an early surgery scheduled the next day. Then, she'd asked me to come to her apartment early and have supper with her on a Saturday night. I refused once more, reminding her that I didn't do meals with my subs. The only thing I ate when we were together was her.

  Finally, she'd asked earlier that night if she could come and listen to Mersey play at O'Riley's. I told her no. My music and my sex life did not mix.

  "You know," she said finally, her voice breaking. "I listened to those songs you sang. That one – the one where you say you have a heart of stone?" She stood, pushing her chair back so hard, it fell over. "You don’t even have a heart." Then she grabbed her bag off the table and stormed out without looking back, the key left on the table in front of me.

  I stood and righted her chair then turned back to the bar, my friends staring at me, expressions of surprise and interest clear on their faces. Now, I'd have to tell them we broke up.

  I checked my watch. Our next set was due
to start in a few minutes. Luckily, there wasn't time for them to demand a full debrief.

  I sighed and went to the stage, bypassing them so I could avoid even having to discuss what just happened, the key to her apartment left behind on the table.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The next week went as usual, except I didn’t go to see Allie on the appointed nights. Each weekday morning, I woke to my alarm at six. Showered, grabbed a coffee and toast. Dressed. Drove to New York Presbyterian where I had a full slate of surgeries booked.

  I purposely didn’t think about Allie, immersing myself in my cases, consciously blocking out her words about me. I knew about denial, having studied psychoanalysis briefly during my undergrad. If I kept myself busy enough, I wouldn’t have time to mourn the end of the relationship.

  If my personal life had gone to shit, at least my work as a surgeon was going well.

  After dictating my surgical reports and checking in on my patients, I left NYP and took my car to meet Lara for lunch at a café near the hospital. I knew she would have heard from Allie about our breakup and would want to interrogate me about it.

  I arrived, still wearing my scrubs, and after placing my order at the counter, I went to the table. Lara looked impeccable, as usual, wearing an expensive suit, her hair tidy in a smooth updo. She had her usual salad and espresso. The café was busy at this time of day, so we sat in a corner for added privacy. The noise of patrons talking, the clink of glasses and cutlery, helped mask our discussion.

  "Drake," she said before I even sat down, her voice sounding irritated. "I hear you and Allie ended it in a bad way. That's not like you. You should have called me sooner."

  I sat across from her, surprised at her tone.

  "She wanted more," I said plainly. "I can't give it."