The First Order [Safeword LLC 1] (Siren Publishing Sensations) (2 page)

In the top left-hand corner was a black-and-white picture of a woman’s hands tied together in a sash. The strap was the only thing on the card with color, and was a sensual red shade similar to Kenney Van Camp’s full lips. A quote beside the picture read:
Release is only obtained after first being restrained…

Becca felt her heart flutter at the word
restrained
. Who was Kenney Van Camp and what type of business did she run? She picked up the card and turned it over, seeking more info but seeing nothing. Flipping it back, Becca stared at the picture and felt a stirring within herself. On one hand, she wondered what satin would feel like on her skin. Would it be tight enough to restrain her in the way she needed? On the other hand, Becca wasn’t certain about what the company was offering or what it could have to do with her past relationship. That type of relationship must require a lot of trust. Could there be a way to ensure that? Was that her business—insurance for relationships?

“Becca?” Sally’s voice cut through the images that were flashing through Becca’s mind. “You’re in la-la land. I asked you what that was about. Who is she and what is on the card?”

“Nothing,” Becca replied, taking the card and stuffing it into her purse. For some reason, Becca didn’t want to share the information. The encounter had been odd and she wasn’t sure what was meant by it. “I don’t know who she is.”

“The woman said she’d be able to help your situation,” Sally said. “Maybe she’s offering you a job. Does she own an insurance company?”

Becca was pretty certain that Kennedy Van Camp’s business had nothing to do with insurance, but decided to take Sally’s bread crumb. It was easier to let her believe it had to do with work instead of Becca’s personal life. And Becca wasn’t even certain of that. Maybe Sally was right and the woman had a job opening. Becca needed to get to a computer to find out exactly what kind of company Safeword LLC was. A thousand possibilities were running through her head.

“I’m not sure what kind of company it is,” Becca replied. The only thing that she wanted to do right now was go home and do some research. “I’ll check it out, though. Maybe it is a good job offer. Hey, thanks for coming out and commiserating with me. It wasn’t the best of days.”

“My treat,” Sally said, waving away Becca’s attempt at reaching into her purse for her wallet. “Give me a call sometime and let me know how the job thing works out. Remember, tomorrow is another day.”

“Yes, tomorrow is another day.” Grabbing her purse, Becca scooted out of the booth. “Thanks for taking care of the tab. I’ll keep in touch.”

Becca adjusted the belt on her black pantsuit as she made her way through the throngs of people who had suddenly decided to descend upon the bar. It was a Friday night and places like these didn’t get hopping until late. Finally making it to the door, Becca slid outside and took a deep breath of the night air. The pollution of Chicago and smell of wet roads drifted into her nose. It certainly wasn’t the same fresh country air she’d been used to growing up. She was far from home and the tiny suburb in Indiana that her parents lived in.

Horns blasted as cars, trucks, and taxis vied for their spot on the road. Living in the city and having everything accessible within walking distance, Becca didn’t own a vehicle. If she ever needed to go more than five blocks, Becca would cave and flag down a cab. It was a good thing her apartment building was only two blocks from here.

Becca hadn’t taken two steps when she saw Kennedy Van Camp alongside a sleek, black town car. A man came around from the driver’s side and placed his hand on the back door handle. He wasn’t the typical driver that Becca saw around the city. His head was bald, although she was pretty sure it was on purpose, and he had a five-o’clock shadow. He wore a loose-fitting suit, although his stocky frame was still visible. He looked more like a retired football player than a typical chauffeur. His white button-down shirt was unbuttoned at the top, revealing a hint of chest hair. He wasn’t overly tall, but to Becca’s five feet and three inches, anything over that was tall enough. She would guess him to be five feet and ten inches based on his build. His shoulders were as wide as he was tall, giving the appearance that he took very good care of his body. As he held open the door, Kennedy Van Camp disappeared from view.

Whatever company she might work for, it was evident that the woman made a killing. Whoever could afford to have a driver and a town car at their beck and call on a Friday night had to be made of money. Was he a bodyguard as well as a chauffeur? Did Kennedy Van Camp own the company, or just work there? Becca watched as he closed the door, walked around to the other side and folded his frame into the car. It must have already been running, because immediately the vehicle pulled gracefully into the streaming traffic.

Becca’s hand tightened on her purse strap as a bit of anxiety set into the pit of her stomach. What if Sally was right and Van Camp only wanted to offer her a job? Maybe Becca’s mind was creating something around the intriguing picture on the business card, when in actuality her proposal had nothing to do with what Becca’s body craved.

Becca hadn’t realized she’s stopped walking and now stood in the middle of the street. She forced herself to walk, all the while her mind racing in different directions. Life was too short to wonder about the what-ifs, and there was only one way to find out what Kennedy Van Camp was offering. Why did Becca suddenly feel like her life was about to change?

Becca tried to loosen the grip on her purse, but the knuckles on her trembling hand refused to obey. It was Monday afternoon and her appointment with Kennedy Van Camp was at two o’clock. After having spent Saturday and Sunday researching Safeword LLC and perusing the corporate website, Becca had wavered back and forth about calling this morning. She’d never been so apprehensive in her life.

Walking through the revolving door of the building, Becca looked around at the modern décor. Glass seemed to be the central theme of the structure, making it a very sterile setting. She had memorized the suite number in which Safeword LLC was located and proceeded to the elevator, although couldn’t quite bring herself to press the number thirty-three button. Becca stared at the lit circle as all of those emotions she’d been feeling over the weekend came flying back.

Upon returning to her apartment Friday night, Becca had stayed up until the wee hours of the morning on the Internet. Whatever she thought she’d find in regards to Safeword LLC, Becca had never imagined it would be in relationship to BDSM. The company was a placement agency for submissive women wanting to find that perfect Dominant—although in this case, to discover the ideal Dominants. Safeword specialized in ménages, where the men shared the woman. Becca had only ever read about them, but had never envisioned them in reality. When she did, Becca found her body reacted in a way she hadn’t expected—as if it had been lit on fire.

Was she the type of woman who could handle two men, in and out of bed? What did that type of relationship entail on an emotional level? Becca found herself just as fascinated with the workings of a ménage as she did the aspects of BDSM. What did that say about her as a woman?

Catching a few hours of sleep, Becca had awakened knowing that she would go to the agency to seek out more information. That response didn’t last long. After examining each tab on the site, Becca became hesitant. There was a vast difference between wanting to be tied up during sex and BDSM. She’d tried to familiarize herself with the terms, the protocol, the implements, and the lifestyle. Throw in two men she didn’t know, and it was overwhelming. But it was all she could think about.

“Ma’am? Going up?”

Becca was jolted back to the present by the deep voice. What surprised her even more was whom the voice belonged to. It was the chauffeur that had assisted Kennedy Van Camp on Friday evening. He looked a little rough around the edges and she could see when he reached out to press the button that he was carrying a pistol under his blazer. A feeling of uneasiness shot through her. Did a driver really need to be armed, even in the city? His right hand was scarred, and the sight caused Becca to glance down at his left. The skin there, too, was damaged and she couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t wear a wedding ring.

“Um, yes, please,” Becca said before she saw his reflection in the exterior mirrored doors. For a second, she thought she saw a smirk on his rugged face, but Becca dismissed that. He didn’t know her or why she was here. “Thank you.”

The dinging of the elevator alerted her that the doors were about to open. After the people exited, the driver extended his hand to indicate she should proceed before him. Becca gave a small smile of thanks. Once they were both on and he had made sure that no one else was going up with them, he pressed thirty-three and then stood back without asking her for her floor.

Oh, my God, Becca thought. No wonder he had grinned. He knew what she was here for. Becca knew her face had flushed in mortification and kept her eyes focused on the changing lights on the bar above the door indicating which floor they were passing. Kennedy must have pointed her out Friday night.

By Sunday, Becca’s body hadn’t been sure how to respond. At night, she had dreamed of two men tying her up with that red sash on the business card. They would caress her body, touch her in a way that she only ever fantasized about, and give her an orgasm that left her exhausted. But she knew now that that wasn’t all that was going to happen. There were elements to BDSM that Becca wasn’t sure she would like. And what then? A few sites of reference spoke of serving a Master, pleasing him in his desires—even in pain. Becca wasn’t good with pain, but couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to want to please someone regardless.

Sunday evening, Becca had filled out the application on the company website. It wasn’t exactly as she had foreseen, as there were questions that stumped her. The list was extensive. What were her preferences in men? There were several choices ranging from a gentle Dominant to a Sadist. Becca thought it would be safer to pick somewhere in the middle. Then came questions regarding what she desired in a partner, from the emotional to the physical.

Becca started sailing through the questions until the form required answers regarding sex. What was her experience with BDSM? What was her pain tolerance? What were her soft and hard limits? Becca, of course, had to look up exactly what the application was referring to. The limits she discovered were a tad bit frightening, although at the same time, had her heart racing, her breathing uneven, and her hands shaking. After having two glasses of wine and a lot of
unsure
answers, Becca was able to hit the submit button.

Ding
.

Becca’s heart skipped a beat. The doors slid open to reveal an elegant and tasteful foyer that included wood in various shades of deep red, lush cream carpet, and a well-designed logo of Safeword LLC above the receptionist area. Becca swallowed around the lump in her throat and fought back the urge to cough. The chauffeur, again, extended his arm for her to be the first to exit the elevator. If he hadn’t been there, Becca was relatively sure she would have hit the button that closed the doors and taken her down to where she’d left her sanity.

“After you, ma’am.”

Becca couldn’t have spoken if she’d wanted to. Taking a few faltering steps, she made her way to a young woman sitting behind the wooden counter. Becca wasn’t sure what she was expecting, although images of a woman in chains came to mind, but the girl couldn’t have been more than twenty-three years old. She had black hair that was pulled back at the nape of her neck, revealing a beautiful gold choker with a diamond in the center. She wasn’t thin, but wasn’t overweight. She was dressed in a short black skirt, with a red blouse that hugged her in a way that said she was proud of her body.

“Jenny, when you’re finished seeing that Ms. Schuler is situated, would you please bring me the Taylor file?”

“Yes, Sir.”

If Becca thought she was flushed before, she knew for a fact that now there wasn’t a place on her body that didn’t have color. He had known who she was the entire time, even her name. How was that possible? If he was requesting a file, the man couldn’t be a chauffeur. What exactly was his position at the company?

The man continued his way down the hall on the right. Becca saw that there were several doors located on either side of the hallway and watched as he used a key to open the door on the left. A key? Why would he keep his office door locked?

“Ms. Schuler? I’m Jenny Rose. Ms. Van Camp is expecting you. Would you like a cup of coffee before I take you into her office?”

“Um, no, thank you,” Becca replied, shaking her head. She knew that to hold a cup of hot liquid at this point would only end in disaster. The cream carpet didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of her nerves. “Who is that man?”

“Mr. Calihan. He’s our chief security officer. Ms. Van Camp will introduce you to him toward the end of your appointment, as he is a vital part of your placement.”

“Why?” Becca didn’t mean to blurt out the question like that, but her anxiety was rising at an alarming rate.

Jenny smiled and came around the desk. “Please follow me. Ms. Van Camp will explain everything. And there’s no need to be nervous. We’ll do our best to make sure you are placed with the ideal men.”

“How, exactly, does that work?” Becca asked in a low voice as she followed Jenny down the same hall as the man. His door was closed now, as well as the two doors on the right.