He paced the room agitated and fuming. “You’re impossible, totally impossible!” Suddenly he whirled around and slammed his fist against the closet door. The plywood splintered but he ignored the cuts to his hand. With his back still turned, he breathed deeply to regain his composure, but it wasn’t a calm and gentle man who turned to me and spoke. It was as if a wall of ice separated us. Cold and steely eyes gave out no warmth at all.
“You asked for this. You wanted to travel in the world of your fantasies. I couldn’t care less about going there. Well, I’ve taken you, but you don’t experience. You judge. And you know what’s saddest?” His eyes pierced through me like lasers. “What’s so sad is that though you judge the players, what you judge most is yourself. You won’t allow yourself to enjoy what you desire most. You’re stuck in some antiquated version of right and wrong that’s driving you crazy. And as long as you do that, you’ll continue to be miserable.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wound it around his hand. “Well tonight you can be miserable alone.”
He turned on his heel and was out the door before I could begin to fashion a reply.
I looked at the shattered ceramic in a thousand little pieces on the floor, the hole in the closet, the violence, the passion. I began to clean feverishly as if it would erase the night and everything he’d said.
What was worse was that for the first time, I realized how much I loved him. What’s more, I knew he loved me. It showed in each piece of broken vase, each torn flower, each splinter of wood on the closet door that had torn his hand, each word of rage that lingered in the still air.
First admissions of love can be painful. I discovered that as I listened to him in the apartment below, slamming doors, pounding and cursing. How many things were broken, smashed against the walls because of me, beautiful things he treasured? Ruined because of me.
What had I just thrown away?
Chapter Ten
His knock at the door came early. I’d been up only long enough to throw on a robe, gather the newspaper and put the coffee on to brew. I didn’t expect to relish any of my morning ritual, after three hours of sleep at best, and a night full of tossing and turning.
As he looked me in the eyes, I felt again that dangerous intensity deep within me, that energy that had bound us from the beginning starting to have its affect on me again. He was calm, collected, though tired.
“May I?” he asked. I moved aside to let him in.
“Coffee?” I asked.
“Sure.”
I poured two mugs and we sat at my lace-covered table almost like strangers, though not quite. My once pretty apartment seemed gray and lifeless now. The lemon yellow, the pink and blue, the sweet flowers. I hated it all, just as I hated the woman who once loved my pretty decorations.
“I’m sorry about last night,” I said.
“I know.”
“You do?”
“I made a mistake, Alex…to think that I could bring your fantasies into reality. It was too much to ask of myself and too much to ask of you.”
“It was?”
He nodded, staring gently into my eyes.
“But what happens now?”
“You still have to make peace with your desires.”
“But how?” I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. My voice sounded pleading and pathetic.
He didn’t like where this was going. “Stop, Alex,” he bit off sternly. “Your flair for drama is admirable, but not now. Listen to me and listen carefully. I’ve thought about this a lot, most of the night, in fact. I want you to see a friend of mine.”
“A friend?”
“Name’s Reggie. He owns an estate on the lake where he often hosts some extravagantly decadent parties – many of which I’ve attended. But, more importantly for you, he sometimes takes women like yourself and opens them to their sexual desires. He gives them opportunities to experience them.”
At the mention of this a drum beat of desire started up in my crotch. Nerves and fear and desire converged at once. “And he just does this…why?”
He shrugged. “He has a strong dominant nature, loves controlling women. It’s what he does. It’s a game for him, and from what I can gather, the women who play with him enjoy it, too.”
“Do you pay him?”
“No. You stay with him on his estate for a period of time. I really don’t know much more than that. At the very least I think it’s something you need to explore. If it doesn’t work out that’s fine, too. But it could be a place to start – to start again,” he corrected himself.
My heart was beating fast by then, “I don’t know, Will. It seems a bit drastic.”
“I suppose it does. But it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.”
“How do you know he’d even do this for me?”
“He’ll need to meet you first, but I think you’re just the sort of woman to suit him. He said he’d like to meet you.”
“You told him about me, about all the things we’ve done?”
“In part.”
“How could you do that? What’s in my head, that’s between you and me, it’s private! When did you talk to him?”
“Last night.”
“So you told a total stranger about my fantasies?”
“I told him about some of your fantasies, about the strength of your resistance, about your ability to create your fantasies in reality.”
I could feel myself start to panic and I wanted to run…but to where. I was in my own apartment. “How could you?” I accused him as I rose from my chair, feeling an urgent need come over me – but for what I didn’t know.
“Alex, sit down and shut up!” he barked. I shuddered and found myself sinking into the couch. “You’re overreacting like you always do. Last night, I was desperate. Reggie’s one of my best friends. He suggested you see him. Frankly, the thought of that hadn’t even crossed my mind when I called him.”
My throat was so choked with emotion that I found it hard to speak. “I feel so violated,” I finally said, though my agitation only seemed to feed his anger.
“Damn it, Alex! I can’t do anything else for you unless you accept what you want, and quit fleeing from the very things that turn you on the most.”
“If you care about me, truly care…”
“I DO care about you, dammit,” he stopped me cold, then calmed himself. “I told you, I called a friend, just as you might have called one. I did nothing to violate you in any way. He doesn’t know you and you never need to meet him. That’s your choice.” His exasperation with me was obvious. “But you know, a possible solution has been suggested, and that is the real problem, isn’t it?” His eyes gleamed as if a light had dawned in him. “You’re angry because you really do want to go. I’ve babied you and coddled you, waited for you to open yourself and accept, but you won’t. You know as well as I do that to get beyond this damned block you have, this misery you’re wallowing in, you need someone who won’t listen to your BS! This pitiful victim routine. You’re a powerful woman and you walk through life like a scared puppy, whining. I’m offering you the best opportunity I know. You can refuse, but you’ll regret it.” His words hit me hard. But I sensed he was right.
“Why can’t we, you and I, try one more time?”
“We won’t try again, because I refuse to. I love you too much, my heart gets in the way…you need a firmer hand than I can offer.”
I sat silent and stunned.
Something in the word love seemed to knock the anger from me. He was doing this because he cared for me, and I finally saw that. “You really want me to go?” I asked softly.
“Yes, I do. Or at least consider it. It won’t be easy giving you to another man, but we can’t go on like this. I don’t think our relationship can last if something doesn’t change.”
I couldn’t think of what to say. To lose Will would have been the worst thing possible.
I finally gave in. “And you trust him?”
“I do.”
“So how long…?”
“I don’t know. Several weeks, a couple months.”
“And my job?”
“You have to decide what’s most important.”
I already knew that answer, although the whole idea still seemed crazy.
“What will he do to me?”
“That’s up to him – and you. He can’t do anything without your consent. But once you give your consent, I know he’ll expect your absolute obedience.”
My fantasies flashed through my mind… “I suppose it might involve a certain amount of
pain
?” I could barely say the word.
“Perhaps.”
“Will you be there?” I asked.
“Maybe. But you probably won’t want me there most of the time.”
“You really believe that this will cure me?”
“You don’t need to be cured. It’s about acceptance. But you have to decide this for yourself. Reggie will respect you, but he will not love you. He’ll help you grow up. He’ll take you where you need to go – without emotion. He’s insightful and sensitive. Although as sensitive as you are, you’ll probably find him cruel at times. But that is all for your benefit.”
I recognized that a Reggie was, in fact, what I needed. Hadn’t I spent hours in my dreaming of such a master? Once again, my private thoughts were finding their way into my reality.
“It’s your choice,” he said gently.
“I need some time – to think.”
We both knew that the decision had been made as soon as Will presented me with the solution, but he was kind and gentle, my savior from the stairwell once again. “Take all the time you need.”
He held my hands. We stared at each other for several moments, and then he left me sitting alone on the pale blue chair. The door closed quietly behind him.
Chapter Eleven
The property rambled along the edge of a lake; meadows, forest, meadows again and green lawns, gardens of flowers, giving way at last to the house. I expected a stately mansion and was surprised to find a modern home of glass and wood. It sprawled atop the rise of a grassy hill, blue spruce and pine trees framed each side. Towering maples rose in front and back. The woodiness, manliness and darkness of its appearance was broken only by pots of deep red geraniums decorating the walkway to the front door. I would have thought the entire scene pleasant if it wasn’t for the foreboding nature of my visit.
I’d told myself I was doing this for Will and our relationship; but I knew inside that I was doing it for me. Three days before, I’d told Will I was ready. I made my announcement over dinner in a wooden-tabled, red-checkered establishment that served hearty red wine with rich continental food. It was an electric moment when I was purposeful and unwavering in my determination to set the adventure into motion. Desire in me was alive and I felt more certain of myself than ever.
Now, however, my raw intention was accompanied by an exhilarating mix of excitement and fear as we approached the house, walked up the geranium-lined walkway, and rapped the brass door knocker on the massive door.
“I’m scared,” I said to Will.
“This is what you want?”
“Yes, I know it is.”
“Then your fear will pass.”
Will had been cool and competent that morning, not without his usual gentleness, but cautious. I suspected he was just a bit afraid, too.
“I’ve so much riding on this, what if…”
“You’ll find Reggie Harold absolutely enticing. You’ll want to do as he says. Trust me.”
I expected a servant to answer, but it was Reggie himself who swung wide the massive door. At first glance I felt I knew him, and I nearly gasped aloud when we were introduced. He was remarkably handsome, with an air of sophisticated aloofness that was absolutely breathtaking. He was simply dressed in a pair of gray slacks and a stiffly starched white shirt that was open at the neck. His blond hair was trimmed short, professionally styled. His eyes were blue and intense, startling even; his square-cut jaw aristocratic. He displayed an incredible sense of himself, a confidence that I rarely see in anyone. I’d felt the same about Jane and Will, but with Reggie it was different, although I wasn’t exactly sure how to define it, except that he seemed driven by some dark, mysterious and restless force beneath the elegant cool reserve.
I was immediately uneasy.
“Come in, Alex,” he said. We followed him through the door, then he turned to Will saying, “I need to talk with Alex alone.”
I glanced at Will, sharing my fear with him – legs trembling, stomach doing flip-flops, my sexual desire shooting darts through me that I could hardly bear.
“I’ll be here,” Will said quietly, flashing his charming grin in my direction, then he walked down a short flight of stairs and out a pair of large doors to a pool, around which several people were reclining in the sun.
The spacious foyer where I stood with Reggie was tiled in gray and white marble. I gazed above to an elegant glass chandelier that could easily have graced a fine museum. To the left of the foyer was a wide staircase leading to the second floor; and to the right was a large living room raised about four feet above the entry level with a steel and glass balcony around two sides. Both entry and living room looked out of the back of the house through a towering two story glass window. The spectacular view included the rolling hills beyond the estate, while nearer to the house was the patio, pool and tiered gardens leading to a pond below.