Freedom in Chains

by Ann Raina

  "Fine." He stood and put his hands on his hips. "What's on your mind? Shall I take care of the cabinet doors? They squeal."

  "You can mow the lawn."

  "Good idea." He looked around the corner into the garden. "Okay, I can do that. But what about the guy in the kennel? Shall I wake him first?"

  "There's a guy in my kennel?" Kyra echoed and was beside him a second later. "I don't believe this!" The doorbell rang and she cursed, but went to open the door.

  Mrs. Bickerham stood on the front porch, a heavy looking red cat on her arms. It was one of the long coated Persians she bred. Those cats were strange. They hardly ever made any noise as if they were decorative pieces on a couch or bed. Fluffy fur balls on legs. Mrs. Bickerham on the contrary was never noiseless, but some might vote for decorative. Her hair was almost white, always carefully permed and her wrinkled face tanned. Her small, somewhat rotund frame was dressed in gold and blue. Blue pants with gold lines along the sides and a matching blue sports jacket with gold on the collar and sleeves. She represented the good old citizens who had once occupied the whole district. She was one of the few still around, and she always spoke her mind. "Good morning," she greeted in her high voice, the tone bearing anger. "I would like to know, Ms. Jennings, since when it is allowed to have men put in cages. This morning I looked out and found that your cage was occupied by a man. And I want to add that he is not completely dressed." She did not blush.

  Kyra wondered for how long the old lady had watched. "I just got up, Mrs. Bickerham. I will take care of that…problem in a minute, okay?"

  "He scared off my cats!"

  "Yes, Mrs. Bickerham, I understand." Kyra tried to remain serious. She could have said that it was impossible from her back porch to look into the kennel without a telescope, but, of course, she would not risk getting Mrs. Bickerham belligerent on her. This was a nice neighborhood and Kyra would salvage what she could. "I will check on the man immediately, give him some clothes and let him out. Okay, will that do?"

  "Yes, it will." She was indignant as hell. "And tell him he shall not return."

  "A good day to you, Mrs. Bickerham." Kyra sighed and closed the door. Only to find Julian standing at the large door to the rear porch and laughing so hard he doubled over. My, that is a sight. Kyra had seen him smile, but no, this was much more. He had tears of laughter in his eyes and whatever she had thought about Julian Bithrell so far was now influenced by that joyous laughter. She had the dignity to ask, "What's so funny?"

  "The man scared off the cats!" Julian could hardly breathe, let alone speak so his words came out ragged. "He scared the damned cats!"

  "She breeds cats."

  More laughter. Loud and full of joy. Julian held tight to the doorframe. "A cat breeder! How old is she? Seventy?"

  Kyra shook her head and went back into the kitchen to brew tea. "Older, I think. Almost eighty."

  "I bet with you she watched the whole show last night. And, my God, it was a show!"

  He took a breath, so loud that she wondered if he would collapse for lack of air. "Oliver was here last night?"

  He turned to her, unable to compose himself. "Yes! How do you think, Mr. Slave got into the kennel? By popping out of space?"

  "No, truly not. I need to talk to Oliver."

  "You promised Mrs. I-watch-the-show to take care of him."

  "Yes." She sighed and called Oliver's number to inform him of the unwanted slave in the kennel. He did not answer the phone. She sighed again. "He's not up yet."

  "It was late last night."

  "So you watched the show instead of waiting for me," she teased, poured hot water in two mugs and turned back to him.

  "You didn't ask that precisely. What now?"

  "I have to let him out."

  "What if you can't wake him?"

  "Do you offer your help?"

  "I do." He composed himself, but still chuckled when she opened the cuff.

  "Put on your jeans. "I'll not have another half naked man in my garden," she growled, causing him to laugh again. "Now, will you stop that!" He could not. She could not make him.

  They went out into the Sunday morning. The air was cool and smelled of freshly watered lawns. It would be a sunny day, warm, maybe hot. But at the moment it was just a wonderful place to be. Julian took deep breaths as if he drank the air. "I missed being outdoors."

  "I see that." She opened the kennel door. The occupant was one of Oliver's infrequent slaves. A friend maybe, if you want to call them friends. Probably his regular master was out of town and he had sought a kick. Who used a kennel for role play? "Hey, you, get up!" Kyra exhaled noisily. The slave was more than half naked. In fact his only clothes consisted of ropes, leather belts with buckles, a thick leather collar and some stuff she could not identify. His penis was locked up in some shining piece of metal so at least that was covered. But he looked heavy, overweight more than muscle. He did not move when she touched him so she hunched her shoulders to get into the kennel. His pulse was fine, he was just in deep sleep. "Now that's rich," she muttered.

  Julian appeared in her field of vision. "I can take him. At least up to your porch. Out of the old lady's view." He looked around. "No one else can watch, hmm? That's nice. You live in a very nice place."

  "Thank you." She came back to give him room to maneuver. "You sure you can handle him? He looks…heavy."

  "He probably is." Julian crouched to grab the man under the armpits and pulled him from the thin mattress Oliver had granted for the night. "Your friend should have taken him back in before sunrise." He grinned at her. "He could've been a vampire, maybe, and would have gone poof with first light."

  "I so cannot follow your humor." She watched Julian pull the man up to get a better grip then it was just a matter of a minute to safely place him on the porch. Kyra went for thick blankets and covered the sleeping beauty.

  "He smells of scotch." Julian lowered his gaze. "And of other…liquids."

  "You mean he had a nice time, but then fell asleep and forgot to go home? I can't believe this!"

  "You allowed your friend to use the kennel?" They went back inside and Julian washed his hands at the sink.

  "Yes, I did. He doesn't have one and I don't need the one. So I thought, why not, when he asked. He never left anyone in there before for so long." She placed the table and chairs for breakfast and only then realized Julian was not bound to the pillar. He looked at her with that smart aleck gaze, telling her, hey, you missed it, but I didn't. She let out her breath. "Why don't you go to the bathroom while I prepare breakfast?"

  "You're full of good ideas this morning."

  Kyra stepped aside when he passed her and she was sure he noticed. She called Oliver again. "Your attention is needed, Mr. Neighbor. You forgot someone over night."

  "Mmm? Oh." Oliver cleared his throat. "Leave him. I'll let him out later." He hung up before she could tell him the details. Only real emergencies would get him out of bed before eleven on a Sunday.

  She set the table and made it through a part of the paper before Julian returned. He had freshened up, yes, but there was more. His step was light, his smile carefree. He sat down, took a toast and grinned at her. "I got it," she said and put down the paper. "You were behind me, you didn't touch me. Brownie point for you. Don't think I'm gonna let you run around free in the house."

  "Do I threaten you?"

  "You could."

  "I've tried for almost three weeks to be the most unthreatening person and you still don't believe me."

  "Cover is everything." He looked shocked by the sentence, but it was just a moment, nothing she could nail or question before the expression was gone.

  "I'm not covering. I just want a bit more freedom. You let me mow the lawn. Fine. But then? Will you put me back in chains?"

  "I don't want you to sneak up behind me in my house. I can't stand that."

  "Because of what? Me being male? Or because Chris was a bruiser?"

  Kyra let her anger rise. Is he stupid? Why do
we lead the same conversation over and over again? "Because you are a convicted criminal. I happen to let you stay at my house and not a garage or lockable room in the basement. If you want that I can arrange it. But if you are here your freedom is limited in a way I can control."

  "Control, hmm? That's it? Just control?"

  "I don't know how you've led your life so far, but, yes, I need a certain amount of control to feel good. And you are on the list of possible out-of-control people. And as long as it stays like this you won't walk free."

  "Now, that's a statement I can live with."

  "Great. Finally. I thought I would have to write it down for you and wait four months and a week until you understand."

  "Stow the heavy artillery. I'm listening." The smile was back. "Want a toast? You need some calories to watch me walk free through your garden."

  The moment Julian switched on the lawnmower, Oliver appeared on his rear porch, stretched like a cat and yawned. Dressed in robe and house slippers, he came over to meet Kyra on the porch. His gaze went down to sleeping beauty. "Mornin'. You found Gregory?" Oliver took a deep breath and listened to Kyra's explanation then nodded. "Okay, I follow as far as the hunk taking in my boy, but…" He looked up and squinted. "Can Mrs. Bickerham look into the kennel without, say, binoculars?"

  "Nope."

  "I thought so. Tricky old lady, she is. Is there another mug of tea for me? I mean, only if there's one left."

  "Yes." She went to fetch it and pressed the mug with hot tea in his hand upon her return. "Here you go."

  "Grumpy? Oh, you missed a part of the show, I see." He squinted to watch Julian at the end of the lawn. "Is this swell of chest real or just a reflection of light?" She did not answer that. "Those nipples…" He squinted more and waited until Julian's bare upper body was closer. "Wow. They're just perfect. The size… Imagine nipple clamps on them and…"

  "Stop drooling on my porch, Oliver!"

  "This is like some frickin' show, you know, Kyra, when they show you all the muscled guys playing pool boy and such. And the real deal is just a harlequin from next door. But he's…very real." Julian was close enough now to see the nice partition of his chest, the washboard abs and the swell of biceps. Oliver gulped down some tea, but his eyes were glued to the convict leading the lawnmower. "Goodness, yeah, yeah, turn around, yes."

  "Oliver…"

  "Oh, okay, I know." But Oliver did not stop watching and neither did she. Julian made a turn with the mower to present his backside. "Good in jeans, but--" He turned to her, frowning. "Why do you let him wear jeans for mowing?"

  Kyra took a deep breath. Oliver was such a bad influence! She could imagine Julian too well without clothes. Ah! She wanted to perish the thought, but it returned in a loop. "Do you think that Mrs. Bickerham is at her binoculars right now?"

  Olivier laughed. "You mean after the demonstration of my domination over Gregory she'll wait for me to take down Julian?" He wiggled his brows. "Nah, that would be your show, not mine."

  "Not mine, either. Locking up Julian in the kennel, yeah, right. Forget it," she warned when he turned to continue the daydream.

  "But just think of it."

  Unable to stop him, she sighed. Only with a gag. Oh, hell, he might like that.

  "You blindfold him, put him on a leash and take him through the grass to the kennel. You can play with him before or after, but you have to make sure he cannot play with himself. So he's got to wear mittens."

  "Mittens?"

  "Yes. If you don't want him to fool around, put mittens on him. And then you lock the door and let him wait. Maybe you teased him before, but didn't let him come. And then, when you fetch him back, the whole show goes into round two."

  "You're constantly dreaming at night, right?"

  "And wake up wet? Yes."

  Kyra was embarrassed, drank tea and resumed watching Julian. "I just can't do this."

  Oliver turned to study her face. "Kyra, my darling, shall I tell you something?"

  "Don't get too close to the truth."

  He smiled at that. "I'll try. You dumped Chris because he wanted to take control over every aspect of your life. Business, dressing, living, personal stuff. He wanted to be a part of your life in every damn tipsy bitsy thing. He even tried to tell you which friends you were allowed and were…"

  "Appropriate," she helped.

  "Right. Appropriate! You couldn't stand that. I agree with you. He was an asshole. But now, Julian, he's the person you can control and that…" He pointed with his stubby finger at her chest. "That, my dear, turns you on. It flatly does it for you and you just won't admit it."

  "You forgot to add how sorry you are."

  "I'll save that for later." He lifted the mug. "Great tea, I like it." He looked back to Julian. He had almost finished the lawn in a time she found amazing. She needed double the time and had to make haste. "You got anything else for him to do? Like chopping wood? He'd be great to watch doing that."

  "You got some wood?"

  "Plenty. I was about to order my slave to do it."

  "Well, let Julian get some exercise."

  CHAPTER 7

  Julian embraced work like someone forced to lie still for a week. Oliver's mouth watered, and Kyra forgot what she wanted to do. Gregory woke and Oliver sent him home hastily to return to the show. They tried to look occupied and Kyra called her friends in the meantime, but while the forenoon lasted and Julian chopped wood she did not leave the porch.

  "I need a shower," Julian announced entering the living room at noon.

  Kyra had just hung up on her mom knowing she was well. Julian's chest was wet with sweat and his muscles had pumped with the strain.

  "You got something else for me to wear?"

  She needed a moment to put her speaking abilities back in her head. "Uh, the prison sent you a new set of clothes…"

  "It's always too small for me. Did you wash my other shirt and jeans?"

  "Not yet. So you better put something on or go naked. I volunteer to invite Oliver over. He'd be most pleased."

  "Hell, no. But you both seemed quite…pleased while I worked."

  "You wanted to shower." She proffered the prison clothes and he tore them from her hands.

  Kyra agreed he looked silly in the too tight shirt and the too short jeans with the prison initials. He was positively grumpy. His hair was wet and tousled and he still ran a towel through it when he came to the kitchen. She was busying herself with lunch, trying and failing to ignore his appearance.

  "May I read the paper?"

  "Help yourself."

  "You want me chained to do that?"

  Kyra heard a ringing in her ears. She put down the pot with water and slowly turned. "Not if you just sit there and read."

  "Great." He paged through the Boston Herald until he finally whistled through his teeth. "Hey, did you see that you made it on the cover of the local section?"

  "No."

  "You gave an interview yesterday. Wow. Not bad. They write you were the first female business owner to volunteer for the program. That's true?" She nodded without turning. "And they write you have no complaints about the convict you took in." He waited for her comment, but when none came, he asked, "Is that also true?"

  "I won't give them shit. They want a positive article. They can have it." She put the noodles into the hot water and grabbed the next pot to cook the sauce.

  "Thanks. The article reads like an ad for the program. If it helps I'd vote for it, too. The photo is pretty neat. You and Mr. I'm-so-important Marvin Hammer. And the mayor. Wow. You met the whole upper brass. May I keep the article?"

  "Yeah, keep it. So you can say you were working for a local celebrity."

  "Not bad for starters."

  Kyra glanced over her shoulder. Julian carefully extracted the page from the rest of the paper. "Where were you employed before? I mean, who pays for the expenses you can't avoid?"

  "A friend of mine pays the rent for my apartment, if that's what you mean."
/>   "Yes, but where did you work? You can't have been unemployed for all these years? You have an address, an apartment, as you say. What kind of money pays for that?"

  "I did some handiwork for the neighbors. I told you I learned carpentry." He shrugged. "There's always someone who needs a hand to get things fixed."

  I bet on that. She did not say it out loud. Why did she think of a sexual connotation at all? "And that was your sole income?"

  "I never had an expensive lifestyle."

  Kyra pondered over that. True, he might have bought the Hilfiger jeans at an outlet and the Nike shirts, too, but also the Calvin Klein underwear and other stuff? His clothes and running shoes told of some money at least. And she knew that the address of his apartment was not in the poorest region of Boston. How does that fit? Does he lie to cover up his drug selling? Fear of him crept over her back. If he could lie this suave what else could he do? She looked back at him. "What about the friend you met that night? Did he also join the program?"

  "I don't know. I haven't seen or met him since the night we were arrested."

  "Not even in prison?"

  "No."

  "What's his name?"

  "Perry. Perry Wilson."

  Kyra filed the name for further digging. Julian had stated he was innocent. Maybe his friend could support the theory. Or bring it down. Suddenly she wanted it to be Monday. An ex-colleague of hers was still a good friend. Maybe she would help finding out the truth about Julian Bithrell.

  Kyra bought new clothes for Julian. It was fun to go shopping for someone that tall. The salesgirls looked dumbfounded the moment she told them the size as if thinking she wanted to buy tents for herself. More fun was to watch Julian's face the moment she brought the bags in. His happiness was palpable and he was so taken by surprise she was glad she made the effort.

  The police department told her that her friend, Josepha Nolan, was on vacation. She shoved aside the thought Julian might be a first class liar when she watched him dress in the new shirt and jeans. She had also bought jogging pants and shorts, socks and underwear and other things she thought useful. He accepted all she had bought, no matter the color. Since September was still warmer than usual he took off the jeans, but kept the shirt on, grinning from ear to ear. She wanted to make a remark about the wonderful silly look on his face when the bell rang. "Your friendly neighborhood policeman," she said, still smiling. "Put the cuff back on."