by J. A. Kerr
Marbella, 2012
Siena
Siena was the only child of Carl and Adriana Green. Her father was extremely rich, and possessed everything in life except the son he longed for. Her Italian mother was desperate for another child to build the brood she had always wanted. It had taken them over ten years and thousands of dollars to conceive Siena. Although cherished by her mother and father, she felt her childhood was overshadowed by their desire for another child. She spent a lot of her early life in Tuscany with her mother, in the town she’d been named after, mainly for holidays, sometimes when her mother needed time to recuperate after another failed round of IVF. This continued on and off until Siena started grade school. At home in America, they lived in a large renaissance style Italian mansion right on Malibu beach; it was idyllic. Her mother had natural grace and beauty, with a warm caring personality. She was popular amongst her friends and had a full life, her only sadness her need for a second child.
Siena rolled away from Benedict, dreaming again.
She was back on the boat; the sun out in a cloudless sky, the ocean blue and calm. The boat was moving beneath her feet as she walked across the deck. Checking the instruments, she smiled at her father, but his face was blurred. She thanked God for the sweater she was wearing, her dad’s, warm and much too big. The breeze was refreshing because she wasn’t feeling great; her stomach had been upset since breakfast. She moved to sit inside the cabin. Her mum had her back to her, and she didn’t turn round as she painted her nails. The aroma was unpleasant and a cold sweat formed on her forehead. Leaving the upper cabin, she stumbled below deck and made her way to her mother’s room. The pain was much worse, and she could barely move her shaking legs before she dragged herself onto the bed. She was crying now and terrified as she lay curled in a ball, clutching her stomach.
Her mother was shaking her; she stared at the blood on the bed, why was it there? Her father was shouting and Siena wondered if they’d arrived. She was looking forward to seeing her friends. She felt herself being lifted but couldn’t open her eyes. A strange odour was all around her; she didn’t like that smell. There were flashing lights and noise, everything was strangely muffled.
With a cry she started awake, the terror of the dream still with her. Awakened now, Benedict heard her distress and turned to her.
“Siena, what is it? Are you okay?”
“No,” she whispered. She moved from the bed to the bathroom in a rush, barely making it in time to vomit, crying and choking as her body heaved. She felt his hands pulling her hair back, his warm body next to hers. She was surprised but grateful. Then came the familiar dizziness, the light started to fade and then…the darkness.
Chapter 13
THE BRAILLE CLUB
Braille Commandments
1. Thou Shall Not See
2. Thou Shall Not Speak
3. Thou Shall Not Tell
Braille Club, London, Present Day: All Braille members must wear only the Caligo fragrance with their sensory suits. Perfume and aftershave is distinctive, so to protect identities, everyone must smell the same. The scent is available within the club to both Harrison’s and Braille members alike, and they can’t get enough of it. Silence within zones is also for protection, as regional accents belonging to members might be instantly recognisable. Thou Shall Not See and Thou Shall Not Tell is self-explanatory and the cornerstone of The Braille’s Club’s foundations.
Abbey
No one noticed the comings and goings within the club. It was busy three hundred and sixty-five days of the year, and anonymity was never guaranteed, as some members did recognise each other. They wondered who the Key Holders were, but since they never spoke or saw each other, it was hard to tell. The only exception to this was a joint Braille Membership.
Impressed by the interior of the club, Abbey was now on her way to meet Grace for her first partnered sensory lesson, in her bag lay the unique key that Grace would explain. The pressure of keeping it safe and hidden was making her anxious, and she kept checking her bag, terrified it wouldn’t be there. She let out a sigh of relief when she found it nestled with her phone, the Swarovski crystals on the locket sparkling as they caught the light, the key concealed within. She removed the locket from her bag and placed it over her head; it felt safer around her neck. Abbey had decided to go for a partnered lesson, surprised she didn’t feel guiltier; instead all she felt was excitement.
Abbey also meant to take advantage of the spa, her swimsuit and sarong packed securely in her bag as she approached the lift. She inserted her membership card into the elevator slot as instructed and stepped inside, saying goodbye to the polite girl who had showed her around the club facilities.
As the doors slid open, the first thing to strike Abbey was the scent. It was fabulous, exotic, and the candles were warm and inviting. She hurried to a small desk after checking her watch, dismayed to discover it was after eleven-thirty.
“Shit, shit.” She felt the panic rise again. But then she saw the elegant lady smiling at her.
“Abbey…?”
“Yes, sorry to be late,” she said in a rush.
“Please don’t worry; we have time. Your partner for today has already arrived, so it’s best if we start immediately,” soothed Grace. “Have a seat and I’ll take your bag to the spa, but you can hold onto your handbag if you wish.”
Abbey’s stomach flipped as she handed Grace her things and sat down to wait. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. God, she needed a ciggie, but of course, Steve didn’t allow her to smoke. He liked to do spot checks, searching her bags and pockets for cigarettes.
But when he was away…she remembered her secret stash of Marlboro Lights and smiled. It was in the one place he’d never look, right in front of his rather big nose in the bathroom cabinet inside her box of Tampax. She giggled; Steve hated anything to do with her bodily functions. He expected her to look perfect at all times, didn’t want to know about waxing her legs, although he certainly enjoyed her Brazilian, had in fact, demanded she got it done. He’d probably seen it on one of his tarts; she thought bitterly, her mood darkening.
In fact, now that she thought about it, Steve was a complete control freak, criticizing her hair, her nails, and even her clothes. He often resorted to belittling her in front of their friends or putting her down when her agent called about a new project. Knocking her confidence and making her doubt herself was part of his daily routine.
When Grace returned, Abbey stood, squaring her shoulders. She would do this; clutching her bag to her chest, she followed Grace into the small room, a dove grey plush carpet beneath her feet complementing slate grey walls. An elegant chaise longue and a strange padded chair stood in the centre of the room. In the corner rested a large screen with a long sideboard along one wall. Grace offered refreshments that Abbey refused, too nervous to even have a drink.
“These are your sensory garments, made to your specifications,” said Grace. “You can change behind the screen.”
“Yes, of course,” said Abbey, taking the clothes, which looked totally unsexy, like the thermals she sometimes wore on their ski holidays. She pulled on the turtleneck top, a bit embarrassed at its snug fit; the same for the tights. The whole outfit didn’t leave a lot to the imagination as it clung to her every curve, and she squirmed self-consciously as she went back to Grace. However, Grace barely glanced at her, merely indicated she sit in the strange padded chair with the narrow back. She noticed the open case on Grace’s lap, and they spent some ten minutes going over instructions and rules that had to be observed by Braille members.
Her head swimming with all the information, Abbey was relieved when Grace at last finished. She was nervous when the velvet cuffs were slipped onto her wrists with their bells tinkling, but was reassured by Grace’s encouraging manner. The moment Grace slipped on the hood her stomach flipped again, her nerves on edge. She was tense and uncomfortable. Plunged into darkness, she felt trapped and afraid, the need to jump up and run out of the room overwhe
lmed her until she heard Grace’s voice in her ear, coming through the hood, calming her.
Abbey nodded her head in answer to Grace’s questions, and then music replaced her voice. It seemed to fill her head with its low, sensuous beat, but still she felt tense, then a wonderful smell pervaded the room, and she became still. She could sense a presence. The touch on her neck was so light, like nothing she had experienced before. It felt like it was against her skin, but with the garment already on, how could it be? The next touch was a little stronger and lasted longer. It was tracing up and down her neck and shoulders. A breath near her ear gave her the sense that someone was behind her.
The thought excited her, and Luke’s face popped into her mind, as she felt a strange pressure continue up her arms and neck. Luke was Steve’s teammate, and Abbey had no idea why she was thinking about him and not her husband. The music enhanced the experience as the touch continued; her skin tingled, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
She felt the breath on her skin, then the touch started to travel up and down her sides, back and forth, slowly playing with her body, and Abbey let out a little sigh as the pressure intensified and she responded. When the pressure skimmed over the outward swell of her breasts, she gasped, wanting more.
The chair below her started to move, and she jumped in surprise, but was soon enjoying the gentle pulses, as the pressure continued to travel down her hips and thighs. Desire rippled through her body in waves as a familiar ache resonated deep within her. Abbey struggled to keep herself still. She could feel the pressure climbing up the inside of her thighs, achingly slowly, as the chair pulse increased. Her body tense, heart racing, she felt heat behind her, and moaned as a breath caressed her lips. The pressure was moving over her entire sensitised body, and she was panting, her hardened nipples sending shock waves of pleasure through her as the pressure skimmed over them again and again. She was alight as fingertips pushed her lips apart and slipped inside her mouth. Shocked and thrilled by the intimacy, her hands jerked involuntarily and everything stopped.
She waited a few more seconds but nothing happened. Damn! She must have moved her hands but she couldn’t remember doing it. She had been breathing so hard she hadn’t heard the bells. She heard Grace in her ear.
“Take your time, Abbey; your eyes will need to adjust to the light. When you’re ready, please remove your blindfold. You will find a robe and slippers behind the screen.”
Abbey’s mind was a jumble of guilt, confusion, pleasure, and need. Not wanting an affair to get even with Steve, this was her compromise. Her body was still tingling as she slipped the blindfold off. Measured for her own hood, it would be available for her next lesson. She had promised herself she would check the club out first, and then both of them could enjoy it together, but now she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure she wanted to share. Pulling off the top and leggings, she noticed they were drenched in sweat. She bundled them into the silk sack provided and slipped into the luxurious robe. Her heart still racing; she had never felt so revitalised. Steve was home later today and normally he was tired, but inevitably horny.
Abbey smiled as she made her way to the spa. Steve was in for a shock because she had a game with a new set of rules and God help him if he broke them.
Chapter 14
THE BRAILLE CLUB
Braille Club, London, Present Day: The Braille Chair is unique and was the first of its kind to be developed. Its seat moulds to your body and the powerful machinery it requires to pulse and vibrate is stored inside. The remote control, a small touch screen tablet which rests inside the back of the chair is operated by the Patron and has numerous functions. All members are trained on how to use it, a skill some master better than others; the pulse location and intensity are often critical to the Patron’s success. The narrow padded back design was for comfort and accessibility, allowing the Patron to get close enough to work their magic.
Guy
Guy was sitting in his office. New members were a rarity now, and he’d enjoyed the last few weeks. The background checks and interviews were a pleasant change from the more mundane duties of the club. He was excited by his new sensory suit but knew it needed more finesse, as did the wand. He planned to make several modifications, knowing improvements would be essential in going forward. Grace had reported the garment’s success in both sessions scheduled this week. They always tried out their modifications on newbies; older members were used to more sophisticated equipment. He checked the club’s booking system and realised with a jolt that their special guest would be here in a few days’ time.
They would be slotted in with the best Elysian Patron. Special guests received special treatments, special equipment, and special services…
Chapter 15
THE BRAILLE CLUB
Braille Club, London, Present Day: Once inside the inner chamber, Assignees reach up to locate the silk bag that hangs on the wall and, fumbling, they start to remove their clothes. Some place them neatly onto the shelf and hanger provided while others leave them in a heap on the floor. Hands reach inside the bag to stroke the fabric before stepping into the suit, which has been custom made to each member’s specification. It clings seductively to every part of the body, like a second skin.
Next they pull out their hood, again custom made, and hold it in their hand. The key in the locket continues to count down time, as they approach the chair in front of them. They are alarmed as the key vibrations increase threateningly, and only relax slightly as they take their seat. Momentarily catching their breath, they locate the opening and insert the key. With shaking fingers, they lift the hood and slip it on, pulse rates slowing, shoulders slumping as they relax, having met the requirements demanded of them within the time limits allowed. Their fingers search for the button and depress it. They hold their breath as the key stops vibrating. The chair glides forward through the now opened door into their chosen zone.
Marbella, 2012
Benedict
Benedict caught Siena as she collapsed; holding her awkwardly as he gently laid her on the floor in the recovery position, panicking slightly, although he was trained in first aid. He checked for a medical ID bracelet; his mother had worn one, but he didn’t like to think about that. He would have missed it if he hadn’t been looking, but there on her slender wrist was a pretty gold charm bracelet. On closer inspection, he could see the charms were medical alerts, the lipstick-shaped charm said ‘Diabetic’; the disc charm ‘Insulin Dependent.’ He felt a chill go through him; the disc had a telephone number. Benedict scrambled around looking for his mobile.
He found it and, kneeling over Siena, he punched the number on her bracelet into the phone. It rang, and then a voice said.
“Hello, Siena?”
“No,” said Benedict. “Siena has collapsed.”
“What? Who is this?”
Benedict was riled at the tone, but kept his voice even.
“I am a friend. Siena has collapsed and this number is on her bracelet. What should I do?”
“I’m her husband,” shouted the voice, even angrier.
Benedict almost dropped his mobile in shock as the words registered.
“Look,” Benedict snarled. “I don’t care who you are; just tell me how to help her.”
The phone went dead.
Shit, thought Benedict, the bastard had hung up on him.
He called 112 and spoke quickly, telling the call handler the situation in fluent Spanish. She told him to check vitals, to keep the patient warm, and she would send an ambulance. Benedict went back to the bathroom with a blanket. Siena didn’t stir. She was like a dead weight; he knew it would be difficult to lift her. Also, she was naked. He looked in her wardrobe and pulled a long, loose kaftan from a hanger. He pulled it over her head with difficulty, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he wrestled first one arm then another though the sleeves before tugging the fabric over the rest of her body. Laying the blanket beside her, he rolled her over onto it. He took her pulse; it was s
trong, and that reassured him. It seemed like forever before he heard a knock on the door. The ambulance crew checked and loaded her in minutes, and then they were en-route to the hospital, where they quickly carried Siena away.
Fatigue pulled at him as he sat in the waiting room, the bright lights making everyone and everything look bleached of colour. Exhausted, he closed his eyes. He must have slept for some time, the light when he awoke suggesting well after mid-day. Standing groggily, he made his way to the information desk and patiently explained what had happened. He asked if there was any news on Miss Waters’ condition and if he could see her. The receptionist lifted the phone and started to talk rapidly. Although Benedict could understand what she was saying, it was only her side of the story.
“Sir,” she said. “Mrs Waters is comfortable at present and her husband is with her.”
Benedict just stared at her, his mind a jumble.
“I understand,” he said. “Thank you.”
Walking back to the waiting room chair, he sat back down. What was he going to do? He couldn’t very well barge into the room with her husband there. Making a decision, he stood up and again approached the reception desk. Obtaining the relevant details, he left the waiting room and made his way through the passageways until he found what he had been looking for; a small shop selling the usual array of products found in every hospital around the globe.
He chose the prettiest bunch of flowers he could find, paid for them, and headed through the hospital. After getting lost several times, he finally arrived at the right place, the nurse smiling at him as he approached. Although uncomfortable, Benedict used his looks to his advantage. Smiling transformed him. The receptionist responded by blushing.