Liberated Heart (Windy City)

by Measha Stone

  Almost every invitation resulted in an application, and after membership opportunity had been opened to the public, applications poured in. Alex's advertising background boosted the members list. All floors on opening night had boomed. They had been bursting at the seams within a few weeks. They hadn’t been open over six months, and they were already turning a profit. That was when Bradley started overseeing the ledgers more closely. Fingers became sticky when there was excess candy about.

  And sticky fingers he found. The cost of personal business expenses for two of the owners made no sense. He and Alex ran the day to day operations—mostly him, since Alex was still working his fulltime gig—yet Travis and John, who contributed nothing to day to day operations, were tallying up the bulk of the expenses: private parties, free food and drinks, utilization of staff.

  Bradley ran a hand over the smooth skin of his head and leaned back in his chair. He may not have aced his math classes in college, but he knew a negative number when he saw one. And he could see a thief from miles away. If John and Travis weren't stopped, they would suck the company dry.

  Bradley marched across the narrow hallway to Alex's office, ignoring Claudia's pleading glance. He'd have to talk with her later. He loved playtime, but he wasn't into anything serious. Relationships were better kept in the playroom.

  “Send her up,” Bradley said to Kimberly.

  “You sure you want to deal with her up here?” Kimberly asked.

  “Yep. I’ll wait at the elevator.” Bradley left the waitress to call back down to the main floor and direct them to let the woman demanding to see Alex upstairs. Alex had his own situation to deal with, and Bradley said he’d handle whoever it was.

  Probably a disgruntled lover who couldn’t take the hint it was over. Alex tended to be a magnet for those women.

  Bradley waited outside the elevator. The password protected key pad kept wandering customers from gaining access. When the doors slid open, he expected to find a hellcat of a woman all dolled up with makeup in skin-tight clothes. He’d been wrong.

  She could have doubled for his high school English teacher, Mrs. Stentson, right up to the tightly wound bun on top of her head.

  "Where's Alex?" She narrowed her eyes, looking him up and down. It had to be at least ninety degrees outside, yet she clung to the thin sweater around her shoulders as if it were going to fly free from her body at any moment. Even with the sweater and the loose, knee-length skirt, he could see the roundness of her hips and the swell of her breasts.

  "Excuse me, can I please speak to Alex." Her voice wavered a bit the second time she spoke.

  He met her gaze for a moment. She wasn't an ex or a crazed crush. She was in need of help. The panicked look in her eyes made him uneasy about letting her stand in the lounge with the evening starting to pick up. The ding of the elevator behind her made her jump as it slid open, letting out three more people. He glanced over at them, glad they’d been completely street legal in their clothing. He didn't think this woman would be able to handle seeing some of the other members in their full fetish gear. As much as he loved a good leather corset and a leash—to a vanilla, it could be startling. And this woman was vanilla.

  "He's busy in a meeting. He asked that I see to whatever your needs are. My name is Bradley Sorenson." He put his hand out to her. She stared at him for a moment and shook her head.

  "Can you just tell him Erin is here? He'll come out." She ignored his hand and gripped her sweater tighter. Did she think he would rip it from her body?

  Bradley had heard her name mentioned before. One of Alex's close friends. Alex most definitely would run to get her out of the club if he knew she were here. But Bradley wasn't going to hand her over to Alex. He had no intention of handing her over to anyone yet.

  "I'm sorry, but it's a really important meeting. How about you come into my office and wait?" He didn't wait for her to respond before cupping her elbow and leading her through the lounge area straight back to his office. She didn't protest when he touched her. In fact, he swore she relaxed under his direction.

  Once they were tucked away in his office with the door closed, he led her to the chair opposite his desk.

  "Can I get you something to drink?" He offered her a bottle of water, which she declined.

  And so, they sat, staring at each other. To be more accurate, he stared at her, while she nibbled on a fingernail and stared at his chest. "Do you think he'll be long?" she finally asked, folding her hands into her skirt.

  "Could be. Why don't you tell me what's going on? Maybe I can help." He leaned his elbows on the desk.

  She huffed a little laugh and rolled her eyes. "Doubtful."

  "Erin, I'm sure whatever the trouble, I can help." Even as the words came out of his mouth, he doubted them. There could be any number of issues going on with her. She could be pregnant. How would he fix that?

  Her soft brown eyes wandered over him for several long moments. Never had he been appraised so boldly. Finally, she gave a curt nod and took a deep breath.

  "I suppose it might be better talking to you than Alex. He might freak out on me."

  Bradley had known Alex for the better part of two years, and never in that time had he witnessed any behavior that qualified as freaking out. If he remembered correctly, Erin was the tightly wound one of the bunch. Alex joked she'd crack in half someday, so the odds were pretty good her trouble was something easy and uncomplicated.

  "My fiancé dumped me," she blurted out. Bradley tried to keep the smile planted on his face. The last thing she needed was his pity. "He left me for some barista." She took a rattling breath but kept her composure. "When I was looking through his things, I came across some paperwork regarding this place." She waved her hands in the air. "It had Alex's name on it, so I looked it up. He hasn’t mentioned this to me…or any of us." His eyes narrowed at the clarification of her pronoun usage.

  "Why did your fiancé have paperwork about the club?" Bradley flattened his hands on the desk.

  "He works at the bank where your business loan is held. I guess he did some of the leg work on the financing. I'm not really sure what he did." She crossed and re-crossed her ankles.

  "Okay," he prompted her to continue. The amount of fidgeting she was doing told him she wasn't quite through with her explanation. "Have you told Alex about your fiancé?"

  "No. And now that I'm talking to you, I can avoid that for a little longer." She took a deep breath. Relief flashed across her features.

  "I don't think I understand."

  "When I found out about this club, this floor particularly, I did some digging. You know, to educate myself on the topic." She gave another curt nod, which made him nod in agreement. It seemed to be the thing she wanted him to do. "And when I did that…well—" A flush crept up her neck and covered her entire face so swiftly, he wondered if she had even realized it had happened. "Well, let's just say, it opened my eyes to a few things I've been missing out on. Some things that maybe I'd like to try."

  He stared at her, waiting for her to continue, but she appeared to be finished. She sat back in the chair and began to tap her toe on the ground. Maybe getting Alex would have been the right thing to do. Maybe it would have been the easier thing to do.

  "What sort of things?" Instead, he dug himself in deeper.

  Her eyes widened. "Well, I…"

  "Spanking?" he asked, finding the intensity of her blush delicious. "Ropes?" He stood from his desk and walked over to the bookcase where he kept the majority of his resource material. Eventually, the club would offer educational workshops, but for the time being, he kept a few books on hand for new curious members.

  Scanning through the spines, he found one in particular he wanted and plucked it from the shelf. She remained quiet, watching him as he moved around the office. Compared to her petite frame, he probably looked monstrous.

  "Well, I…"

  "You said that already," he pointed out as he stood in front of her, leaning against his desk. She uncrossed her
legs and pushed back a little to make room for him. "Are you looking for a way to get over your ex?" He casually tapped the book against his thigh.

  "What? No. Obviously I'm not looking for a relationship. I just want to explore. I'm allowed to do that," she said with more gumption than her eyes conveyed. She was wringing her hands together in her lap—an attempt to keep her composure.

  This conversation probably wasn't easy for her. Given the chance, he wondered if she’d bolt from the room.

  "I know there's a membership application and all that. I was hoping Alex would get me started."

  "You want a membership?" The book banged on the desk as it fell from his hand.

  "Yes, that's why I'm here." A forced smile met his gaze. "You didn't think I would proposition Alex, did you? He's a friend. And he's involved."

  Bradley fought the urge to rub his eyes. She was taking him in circles. "So, after your fiancé walked out, you went digging through his things, somehow managed to find our club on the web, and now you'd like a membership?" He summed up the conversation so far, more for his own benefit than hers. After a small nod, he pressed, "What turned you on? What did you see that made your panties soaking wet?" He saw her startle a bit at his crudeness, but he didn't do sweet talk, and he had a feeling she didn't need it.

  Her gaze dropped to her hands for a moment before she looked back up at him with more determination than before. "I saw a lot of things. Women tied up. Women being spanked. One woman had a ball gag in her mouth, tied to what looked like a cross of some sort, and clothespins strategically placed on her torso and breasts."

  She stood from her chair, her hands fisted at her sides. "I read story after story about women submitting to their partners in the bedroom." Her gaze wandered to his chest. "And out of it."

  If his cock hadn't already been alerted to the beauty before him, her fresh blush finished the job. The shy, resolved expression she'd had when they first entered his office was gone. He had no doubt she'd seen plenty. The image of her sitting at a desk watching the sort of acts she described, one hand on her naked breast, and the other sliding into her panties… He shook his head to ward off the visual. His pants were painful enough as it was.

  "And what did you do when you saw these images?" He forced a flat tone, but the way his heart picked up speed, he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep it together for much longer.

  Her lashes fluttered against her perfectly tanned skin before she looked away. "I…are you able to help me with a membership? I know you have a screening process, so I'm sure it will take a few days, and since it's already Thursday…"

  His hands on her shoulders stilled her. Her large brown eyes peered up at him with some surprise. Hell, he was surprised too—that he'd managed to go that long without touching her.

  "I'll email you the membership application. You will send it back to me personally." He released her, but brought his hand up to her face, running the back of his knuckles along her jaw. "I have more questions for you, though, before I do that."

  Chapter 4

  Erin gaped up at the large man standing only a breath away. Piercing blue eyes stared down at her with an intensity that seeped into her body. Her heart hadn't stopped pounding in her chest since she'd met him at the elevator. The electrifying touch of his hand on her cheek stilled her breath. His gaze seemed to demand her full attention. Even if she had wanted to look away, she doubted she could get her body to listen.

  This man looked more like an MMA fighter than a businessman. The white button-down shirt fit his muscular frame, highlighting the massiveness of his chest. She could make out dark lines under the fabric running down his left arm. A tattoo? It took all of her concentration to keep her focus on his words and not let the thoughts of having his hands on her, touching her, stroking her, distract her. When was the last time she’d craved someone’s touch so much?

  "What sort of questions?" Finally, her vocal cords cooperated.

  "Well..." He looked down at her mouth, and she instinctively wet her lips. "First of all, are you sure you're ready to do something like this so soon after your breakup?" He didn't back away, but his hands weren't on her anymore. She could smell the musk of his aftershave. Not at all overpowering.

  "Yes. I'm sure." She wasn't at all sure. What if Jonathan changed his mind and came back? Did she want that? After two weeks of no word from him and her dwindling desire to even hear his name, would she be willing to think about reconciliation?

  Of course not. She couldn't take him back after all of the horrible things she'd seen in those emails. As much as those words hurt her, they actually helped. Each insult had put another brick in the wall she needed to keep Jonathan out of her mind.

  Deep down, she had known they were having trouble. Things weren't the same, and he was delaying wedding decisions with even more lame excuses than before. When she sat down and let herself be completely honest, she'd realized they hadn't had much in common over the past year. He’d worked almost obsessively, and although she never resented him for his time away from her, she'd drifted a bit too. As devoted as she was to him, she could feel the distance, no matter how hard she tried to breach it.

  Bradley's eyes searched her face, and his lips curled on one side. "You're not telling me the whole truth, are you?" His voice dropped enough for her to suspect he may be grinning, but he was being completely serious. She finally understood the phrase “toe-curling.”

  "No, not the whole truth." The honest answer slipped past her lips before she had the good sense to stop it. It was bad enough she'd told this man the things she was looking for. She had practically bragged about the pictures she'd been pouring over for the past two weeks. Now, she was falling under some sort of spell beneath his gaze. It was a wonder he didn't toss her out on her ass, determining her too much of a whack job to deal with.

  "It's a start." He gave a little nod—one she would have missed had she not been staring at him with such curiosity. His lips were thick. They made her want to bite them. "What sort of Dominant are you looking for?" The question pulled her out of her thoughts.

  "Dominant?"

  "Yes." A wider grin. "Dominant. You said you wanted a membership so you could explore this. I assumed you meant you were looking for a Dominant. Unless…are you looking for a submissive?"

  "No!" Her cheeks heated. "I mean. I'm not looking for a submissive, and I don't know about what sort of Dominant." She had a few ideas, but she'd already divulged too much to this stranger. She really should have reconsidered their conversation. His stare warmed her too much.

  "Another half-truth?" His fingertip traced her lips.

  The warmth of his touch sent her into another sprint through fantasy land. She gave a nod, keeping her eyes locked with his. How long had they been staring at each other like that? Had she remembered to blink? His finger tapped her lips, softly at first, then steadily increasing in firmness. It didn't hurt, but the gesture made her uncomfortable. His hand on her arm kept her from stepping away.

  "Full truths from now on, Erin. Do you understand?"

  She studied him. His finger dropped away from her lips. "Yes," she whispered. Bradley took a step back from her, leaning against his desk. She took a small step to steady herself. The man was turning her into a crazy person. "There's an event here this weekend. Saturday night. A slave auction."

  She eased herself back into the chair, dragging her sweater up at the hem to cover her hands. A slave auction.

  "That's a real thing?"

  He tilted his head to the side and grinned. "It's probably not what you're thinking, but yes, it's a thing. Completely voluntary and for charity. The slaves are auctioned off to the Dominants. The winner will get to have her or him service them throughout the evening. Only in the public rooms, and the slave has no obligation to leave with the Dominant. Most slaves are probably going to be bought by their own Dominants. But there are a few single men and women who have registered to be auctioned."

  She let the information sink into her mind. Slave
s. The terminology of everything she'd read over the past few days stuck with her, and she didn't think she could ever consider herself a slave. She didn't mind the term and thought no less of anyone who would categorize themselves as such, but she wasn't sure she fit in that mold. One idea she ingrained in herself over the last two weeks was she was not the freak she'd originally believed. She was no weakling, either. No one could submit themselves to another person's will and be weak. It took strength. And a hell of a lot of trust.

  "That might be interesting to see." She nodded. Very interesting, especially if the play was all in the public viewing area. She'd be able to see what she wanted to see without having to get too involved with anyone. She needed to get the membership approved as quickly as possible. "Do you think I'll be able to get my membership in order by then?"

  "I wasn't telling you about the auction because I want you to watch it." He folded his hands in front of him, where she could see the obvious bulge in his jeans. Had their short interaction been as intoxicating to him as it had to her? "I’m telling you about the auction because if after I've finished with you here, you decide you'd like that distraction—that rebound—the auction is as good a place as any to get on with it. But understand, if you come to the auction, if your pretty ass is standing on the auction block, I will buy you. I will own you."

  No words formed in her mind or on her tongue. He wanted to buy her? Didn't she just tell herself she couldn't be a slave?

  "I…uh, don't think being a slave is what I’m looking for."

  "Slave is merely a word. Most of the girls who registered don't consider themselves slaves." He shrugged. "I don't get too caught up in the labels. Some Doms do, but I don't." She searched his face for the smile, the tweak of a grin that would tell her he was screwing around with her.