by Poppy Flynn
Sometimes, if a touch of whimsy caught her, she liked to think of Logan as her reward. She was thankful things were solid between them now, or so she thought.
The touch of whimsy was certainly with her on one of the rare days she set out to grab lunch alone. Logan was busy with meetings and inter office conferences, having to re-write a contract that was deemed to be in the bag. Unfortunately, Desi's time off, followed starkly by Laurel's abrupt absence, had rocked the boat so much, it was in danger of capsizing. Jake Blackwood had been sent in to troubleshoot, but word was that Connor Griffin, who had assumed Desi's role, was moody, short tempered and argumentative. That had not sat at all well with the yielding company, and they had lost confidence in the process and the players and were now demanding different terms to appease what they felt was a whitewash attempt by the Blackwood boys, who had a reputation for being very much more cut-throat than Universal, one of the very reasons for their merger.
Luanna had finished her side of the deal. She had tweaked and adjusted the figures and run alternative scenarios and progressions, based on different components of the renewed demands, and delivered them all to Connor with her counsel. Her part was done now, unless things went back to the drawing board, but it left Logan tied up the remainder of what promised to be a long afternoon.
She missed him, Luanna realised as she wandered along one of the quieter, quainter streets, away from the central hustle and bustle of the city. She settled onto a bench in a small park, close to the artisan delicatessen she had discovered, and took in the panorama around her while she ate her warm panini. It was a beautiful autumn day. The trees were still replete, their leaves bursting with a crowning glory of fiery colour. The weather embraced a touch of chill, but it was calm and bright, the sky a magnificent swathe of pristine blue. She could hear sweet, clear birdsong above the noise of the busy streets and the animated chatter of squirrels frantically gathering their hoard in readiness for the year's decline. It was a little oasis and it soothed her after the edgy and frenzied morning she'd endured. She felt a moment of sympathy for the others, who were still bogged down in it all.
Her eyes tracked along the charming street at the edge of the park, and she watched the steady stream of people who were still rushing, blind to the beauty and tranquillity around them, or maybe just too busy to notice.
She sucked in a deep, cleansing breath as she shot her rubbish into a convenient bin then turned her face to the sky and soaked up the sun's seasonally diluted rays, and she couldn't help thinking that her life was as close to perfect as this delightful day.
She couldn't bring herself to rush when she finally coaxed herself into moving. Instead, she meandered along the pretty street, people-watching and browsing in windows.
When she saw it, it was almost like fate had brought her here to this place, this window, at this particular time in her life. The pendant couldn't have been more perfect if she had commissioned it herself. The head of a lion, intricately carved from a single piece of amber and encased and enhanced with bold slashes of silver in the same kind of curved and claw-like wedge shape that made up the Celtic inspired pattern of Logan's tattoo. It was threaded onto a thong of natural tan leather with capped silver ends and fastenings and was as boldly masculine as it was stunningly beautiful. She found herself walking into the jeweller's and rummaging for her purse, before she'd even made the conscious decision to buy it. It was simply meant to be.
Of course, it ended up costing an arm and a leg. The price made her wince and was almost enough to make her reconsider. In the end, she had thrown caution to the wind. She was frugal and despite the sharp hike in her income since starting work at Blackwood Universal, she had remained frugal, working to build up a nest egg—a safety net—as well as increase Danny's college fund. Well, she'd dipped into the nest egg, but aside from the initial hesitation, she couldn't bring herself to regret the decision. It was just too perfect.
Now, she just had to find the perfect time to give it to him—to make him understand that she wanted to reach for forever with him, to tell him that she loved him.
Luanna expected to have the perfect opportunity to do just that, a few days later, when Logan revealed that the series of Shibari photos were ready to view.
The best laid plans, of course, as the saying went, proved to be no exception this time, either. Luanna might well have had some vague ideas in her head about how she could use that special time he showed her the photographs to explain her feelings for him and give him the token after he gave her the pictures to look at, but Logan clearly had his own, thoroughly thought out plans, and they pretty much blew hers out of the water.
When he told her they were going to Club Risqué for the viewing, it threw a bit of a spanner in the works, since she realised that a selected series of shots must already be hung, ready for display. It didn't bother her. She had already agreed to it, but it put a slight crimp in her own designs, since it meant they wouldn't be alone for a little while. But she could work around that to some extent.
Of course, fetish wear meant that she'd have to leave the pendant in her locker, since she wouldn't have anywhere to hide it, so she'd have to find a way to fetch it later on. She'd have to wing it, that was all, which was never a preferred method for someone who liked to have everything worked out in advance. Ad-libbing so wasn't her style.
The first inkling she had that things might not proceed even remotely as she had planned was when they walked into the club's lobby to hear the decidedly reserved strains of tasteful classical music rather than the heavy pounding beat of grunge or rock that the dance floor was usually flooded with.
The second was the rather ornate looking gilded invitations that the members ahead of them were handing in to reception. Looking around in confusion, she noticed a large sign standing on a filigree easel inside the doorway announcing, 'Invitation only'.
"What's going on?" she asked Logan with a slight frown.
"Let's go and find out, shall we?" He smiled as he took her elbow and steered her through the large double doors that segregated the foyer from the ground floor bar and unrestricted guest areas.
Instead of thumping noise and flashing multi-coloured strobe lights and the ebb and flow of undulating bodies thronged together like a single entity and the smell of leather and sex, there was stylishly muted mood lighting, along with almost overdressed servers carrying silver trays and offering what looked suspiciously like champagne.
Logan hooked a couple of glasses from a passing waitress and handed one to her.
"Here," he offered. "You look like you need this."
Luanna accepted the crystal flute and took a sip of the perfectly chilled bubbly, her mind still whirling as she tried to make sense of the scene around her. It was more like a posh social gathering, a ball or some such thing, if you ignored the lack of evening dress.
Along the whole of one significantly long wall were rows of crisp white clothed tables laden with everything from canapés to foie grass to caviar in delicate edible morsels and a second swathe along the far end buried in equally tantalising bites of a flurry of different desserts, each one looking like a little jewel in its own right.
Along the far wall was some kind of partition that had been curtained off with long, heavy drapes in burgundy velvet trimmed with burnished gold tasselled pulls.
"Are you going to tell me what this is all about?" she asked as he led her deeper into the room, where everyone seemed content to chat and socialise and make the most of the feast that had been provided.
"After we eat." Logan winked and went about filling a plate, which he made clear was for them to share. Luanna pointedly raised an eyebrow but humoured him, even as he insisted on feeding her little nibbles of food by his own hand. Glancing around, she noticed most of the other couples doing the same. Some kind of D/s thing, she guessed, and capitulated to form, even as she made a mental note to ask him what the heck that was all about. He knew it, too, since he dipped his head close to her ear and murmured,
"Just a little Dom/sub ritual. Nothing to be alarmed about." He kissed under her jaw as he said it, and somehow, any resistance she felt just melted away and she allowed herself to simply relax and enjoy all of the amazing tastes and textures, washed down with the exceptionally fine champagne that never seemed to diminish.
She knew a moment of slight embarrassment despite the bubbles that were dancing in her bloodstream when Connor Griffin and Jake Blackwood approached, both of whom she worked with but had yet to run into in the club setting, along with Micah Flynn. Charlotte was with them, flanked by Jake on the one side and Micah on the other, and Luanna picked up some confusing mixed vibes from the two of them, so she wasn't quite sure which man she was subbing for. She knew that Charlotte was training under the club's manager and psychologist, but it was Jake who seemed the more proprietorial. Maybe it was both of them. Such things weren't considered uncommon in this domain.
Trinity accompanied the group with that usual air that seemed to set her slightly apart somehow, even from those she chose to accompany. Of all the subs Luanna had met, Trinity always seemed to be the most aloof, a submissive who took complete charge of herself, even though that was almost like some sort of conflict of interest. Luanna had never seen her be anything less than compliant towards any of the Doms at the club, but there was a difference somehow, a distance. Perhaps it was simply because she was also the assistant manager. That must surely present a conflict, in itself, Luanna mused, but it felt like something slightly different, as if she held a part of herself back.
Still, the greetings were friendly and genuine all around, although a quick survey of the other patrons showed no sign of Laurel—Fluff, as Luanna needed to remember to call her when they were here—who was usually an element of this particular party. Not wanting to ignore her erstwhile colleague's very obvious absence, Luanna decided to be bold, and playing oblivious, asked, "Is Fluff joining us, this evening?"
There was certainly no mistaking the awkward undercurrent that rippled through each of the people present and the surreptitious glances that flickered briefly to and then immediately away from Connor.
Micah covered the momentary disquiet with his usual easy grace. "She's certainly been invited, so perhaps we'll see her later."
There were the obligatory nods in confirmation of his comment, but it seemed obvious to Luanna that no one really expected Laurel to show.
She pondered that, remembering Laurel's enthusiasm for the club and Desi's warning to the other girl during their lunch date, and sighed inwardly before Trinity diverted her attention.
"You must be excited, Serenity," the other woman commented, using the pet name that she and Logan had agreed on while they had been working on the photography. Logan had claimed that many of the pictures were calm and serene and that was by way of extension of her own character. Thus, the pseudonym had been born. Initially, as her 'model' name, but it had made sense to use it here, as well, although it still took a couple of beats for her to realise she was being addressed sometimes.
"I should?" she queried. "I'm afraid you're a step ahead of me. Logan has kept me pretty much in the dark about whatever is going on here this evening."
"In that case, we should proceed, don't you think, Logan?" Micah interjected smoothly.
"Indeed," Logan agreed. "It looks as though everyone has sampled the buffet. Well, the first pass, at least." He grinned. "Probably an appropriate time for a natural break between the face stuffing."
"You sell yourself short," Jake remarked. "I've had a sneak preview, and it's magnificent."
"Let's round up the rabble, then." Micah laughed, nodding towards Connor. "If you'd do the honours."
"Ladies and gentlemen, Doms and subs. Your attention please," Connor boomed in a voice that was as big as the rest of him.
The vast chamber hushed in anticipation.
"Tonight, is a very special evening. Those of you who are familiar with Master Baku will know of his long-held desire to create a photographic display of Shibari and suspension. Many of you have admired his work in the flesh, now we are all privileged to have the opportunity to admire it for posterity. Finally, Master Baku has found himself a suitable model. A lot of us here know just how long he's been looking…"
A ripple of laughter rolled around the room.
"…and most of us wondered if he'd ever come to a decision on that score…"
More laughter, a little rowdier this time, accompanied by a couple of good natured heckles.
"…but the east coast has brought him 'Serenity'…" Connor made a grand sweeping gesture towards her with his arm, and Luanna felt her cheeks heat as well as the rest of her as all eyes looked her way.
"…and Serenity has finally brought us this exhibition of Master Baku's work, both in person and in sentiment."
A murmur of speculation and appreciation surged through the crowd. Luanna felt herself the object of a wave of deliberate scrutiny, which served to make her all the more uncomfortable.
"Quite fittingly, that is also the name of the exhibition. You see it, tonight, in its entirety. After this evening, half will be put on permanent display, here. The other half will go on display at the original Club Risqué in Master Baku's hometown on the south coast." Connor paused for just a moment, for the information to be digested, then waving his hand in a grand flourish, he announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, Shibari and suspension. Please enjoy 'Serenity'."
Several club submissives pulled collectively on the gilded tassels, and the heavy velvet curtains swished smoothly aside, to reveal a vast wall of pictures, some colour, some black and white, all beautifully framed and grouped around a massive central photograph depicting Luanna as the centre of a kind of 'tree of life'. She was suspended about two feet from the ground, her ankles and calves bound intricately and elaborately in metallic gold rope which twisted and spiralled to the floor to form the 'roots'. Her arms were flung out, her fingers spread, and her head thrown back and the coiling rope curled around her torso like a snake until it unfurled again along her arms, following each finger outward to form individual branches. The ropes formed a cradle for her head then braided into her hair, until the whole lot fanned out behind to form the canopy which suspended her. It was breath-taking. And huge!
Luanna stood in awe at the reflection of her own image, only marginally smaller than life size, and words failed her.
The exhibition was an undeniable and resounding success. The remainder of the evening had passed in a blur of congratulations and compliments, and Luanna had left Club Risqué with her head spinning and her mind whirling after being approached, waylaid, and propositioned. So much so that she seriously wondered if her sudden prominence would make visiting the club next to impossible, any time soon.
When the advances bordered on being accosted, Logan snatched her up and whisked her away, and Luanna was able to heave a heartfelt sigh of relief.
Of course, there'd been no time at all for any privacy, and as she undressed, ready for bed, both mentally and physically exhausted after the unexpected notoriety, she realised that in the rush to escape the well-meaning crowd, she had forgotten to pick up the amber lion amulet from where she'd hidden it in her locker. It would likely be another week, at least, before she was able to get it back. Mentally kicking herself, Luanna sighed with relief as she slipped into bed beside Logan, snuggling close into his side. Feeling his sturdy presence relax her, she tried to plot another scenario, but the low-grade headache, brought on by noise and champagne, pulled her deep into sleep almost before her head touched the pillow.
She wasn't going to get back to the club, any time soon. At least not until the fuss had died down, she realised. There was more of it than she had expected. Logan—or rather, Master Baku—was a big deal in the Shibari world, and by association, she had become one, too. Incidentally, in most respects, since it was Logan's work and skill that was being presented and then more so, somehow, since it was her own image that was plastered all over the place.
The following
day, Logan had given her several pouches of photographs. The ones that had been mounted and shown, others that hadn't been edited, and a third set that were rather more explicit—the deeply private pictures. There were some there that she hadn't even been aware he had taken. They touched her in equally deep and private places. He told her they were hers to keep, but that if she chose her favourites, he would have them edited and mounted in a special album, just for her. He also told her he was going back to the south coast, very shortly, and would be gone for a week or more. There was work he had to see to back at head office, and he was going to transport the other half of the Shibari display to its new home and oversee its installation. It was his life's dream, so she guessed she couldn't begrudge him that small victory, but even before he was gone, she felt a pang at the thought of his absence.
Reality was certainly no better; in fact, it was very much worse. She should get used to it, she supposed. This was likely to be their reality in the future. More so, once the initial commitment for him being here, the loose ends of the company merger, were no longer a responsibility.
Funny how someone could take over your life to such an extent, in such a short space of time, that their absence left a gaping chasm in a life that had been perfectly whole before their arrival.
God, she missed him. Missed the lift she felt at the thought of him just being in her home when they got back from work. Missed the tangible substance of him in her bed at night to cuddle up to. Missed having another adult to speak to, to bounce ideas off of if a thought or an idea came to her. Missed sharing breakfast and dinner or just sharing small talk. Missed him.
How had she managed to become so reliant on him so soon? She needed to pull herself together. She had always been independent and self-sufficient. She'd never been the kind of woman who had to have a man around. In fact, for all of her adult life to date, she had existed by her own merit. When had she become so pathetic and needy? It wasn't a trait she liked to think about in relation to herself, so when she got the phone call from Charlotte, asking her to meet her for lunch, Luanna jumped at the opportunity.