Beck & Call (5 page)

“Property—”

He laid his hand across her mouth, silencing her. “From this moment forward you obey me. If you truly wish to object to something, your safe word is ‘daffodil.’ Say it, and I’ll listen to a request.”

He’d succeeded in shocking her. Her lips worked but no sound emerged.

“Good,” he said, dropping the lightest kiss onto them. “I know you’ll remember.”

~

Mia felt like she’d stepped into an alternate reality, one where things she hadn’t known could arouse her did. Waves of excitement crashed through her nerves, simply because Jake had ordered her to obey. Her lips tingled from his glancing kiss the same as if he’d marauded them. Her pussy was growing wet and her nipples tightened. The strength of her reaction was a little alarming.

It made her wonder what their exchange had done to him.

When he shifted to check their progress through the side window, her gaze arrowed to his crotch. He didn’t wear his clothes super tight, but a bulge lifted his zipper.

She fought a shiver at the healthy size of it.

She looked away before he caught her staring, but of course the image lingered in her mind. Even without her gift, she’d have memorized it. Jake’s erect cock was impressive.

Truthfully, she wasn’t sure he was wearing underwear.

She bit the side of her thumb. The heavy collar had warmed around her neck, as if his hands were touching her and not chains. Her clitoris throbbed in reaction.

Property doesn’t speak,
he’d said.

This is pretend,
she warned herself.
Don’t get too into this.

Her body refused to listen. Jake reached without warning to take her hand, sending an involuntary jolt up her clit and deep into her. Mia inhaled loudly enough to be heard. The burst of sensation had almost felt like coming.

“We’re nearly there,” he said, his gaze penetrating hers. The gleam in his hot blue eyes said he suspected what had happened. His callused fingers gripped hers a bit tighter. “Keep hold of my arm while we go inside. And behave yourself. Management will watch every move we make.”

She opened her mouth to speak then remembered he hadn’t asked a question.

“Good,” he said like he meant it. “I’m glad you’re a quick study.”

The limo driver slowed and began a turn. She saw they were in the theater district. As lit-up as Broadway was, she should have noticed this already.

Audition was on a narrower street. The glass and metal awning above its front reminded her of old Paris Metro stations, the flourishes typical of art nouveau style. A line three-and four-deep straggled along beneath it and a ways down the block. The people who waited were well dressed but conservative, as if they worked on Wall Street or legal firms. She saw designer cocktail dresses and bespoke suits—and not a single item of studded black leather.

Her decorative steel collar was the nearest thing to fetish wear in sight.

She discovered this made her happy. Maybe he didn’t really mean to, but Jake was treating her like she was special. She couldn’t resist stroking the chains as their driver opened the door for them.

Unsurprisingly, Jake ignored the line and led her to the entrance. The bouncer who guarded it was as big as a linebacker. He also wore a good suit. Jake produced a black poker chip embossed with golden Comedy/Tragedy masks. A silhouette of a horsewhip traversed the images.

The bouncer glanced at the token and then at Jake. Jake must have met his approval. Without a word, he pulled the door open.

Mia wondered if Damien Call had to flash a chip.

She didn’t ask. They’d entered a red satin antechamber with a coatroom.

Jake removed his leather jacket, handing it to the elegant woman who stood behind the counter.

Whoa,
Mia thought, taking in Jake’s appearance. He wasn’t dressed like he did at work. He’d paired a black silk shirt with knife crease black trousers. He never looked bad, but tonight he looked
sharp.
His shoes were shined and his belt was narrow. Without his usual suit jacket, the perfect shape of his trim strong body was obvious. He had a dancer’s ass: tight and muscular.

Mia couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed how great it was before.

“Coat,” Jake reminded, yanking her from her fugue.

“Sorry,” she said.

Jake pressed a scolding finger across her lips.

How crazy was it that him shushing her stirred a thrill?

“Turn,” he ordered, his hands guiding her as she struggled not to blush. Every place he touched seemed unnaturally sensitive. She wasn’t sure what he intended until he lifted her coat from her.

“You need to check any phones or cameras,” the chic coat girl said.

Jake handed his cell over. “Do you have one?” he asked her.

Mia shook her head.

“Take my arm,” he said, offering his elbow.

She was glad for the support. The space behind the next set of doors was packed and unexpectedly noisy. European dance music pulsed at her like a shifting wall. Voices laughed, plates and glasses clinking as people ate and drank. The room was circular, and the floor wasn’t level around the sides. Staggered tiers like terraces in a rice paddy supported small tables. Most of the seats were full, but some couples writhed on a black onyx dance floor in front of a curtained stage. Their gyrations were suggestive. Mia’s overly detail-oriented brain temporarily went into overload. She swayed on her teetery heels.

Jake’s arm shifted to her back. “This way. I see a free table.”

The table wasn’t free yet. Two tuxedoed servers were clearing it. One of the young men seemed startled when he saw Jake. His skin was caramel, his eyes the clear aqua of the Caribbean. The honey brown corkscrew curls that haloed his head looked like a Renaissance angel’s.

“Mr. Reed,” he said. “We didn’t know you were coming.”

As the slightest flush touched the young man’s cheeks, knowledge slapped Mia in the chest. Jake had played his S&M games with him. And maybe more than games. The waiter was preening the tiniest bit. Perhaps he was crossover staff between Audition and Diogenes. If Jake frequented Diogenes more often than here, this would explain why he hadn’t been familiar to the bouncer. Mia gaped at Jake, not having guessed he was so flexible in his preferences. He noted her glance but the inferences she was drawing didn’t seem to fluster him.

Not that Jake gave away that sort of thing.

“Gabriel,” he greeted the waiter, the name fitting. He touched Mia’s shoulder. “As you can see, I’ve brought a friend.”

“But … it’s
Thursday
.”

This seemed to be important. Was it because Damien Call came on Thursdays? Or was there another reason the day was significant?

“Some friends are worth showing off,” her escort said smoothly.

The curly haired young man shook his head but recovered. “Shall I tell Management you’re here?”

“Thank you,” Jake said. “That would be convenient.”

Gabriel held their chairs while the second waiter set out a fresh bouquet of dewy-fresh, garden-grown pink roses. Jake didn’t bat an eye at the fussing. He ordered wine without looking at a list—something French, she thought. The wine was for her. Gabriel brought whiskey with a separate glass of rocks for Jake. The chunks of ice looked artistic, liked they’d been chiseled from a larger block individually. Jake dropped one into his drink with a pair of tongs.

He smiled at her expression. “Didn’t know I was this worldly?”

Here at last was a question she could answer. “I knew you were worldly. Just not cosmopolitan.” Since he’d given her an opening to speak, she drew breath for a few more words. “May I ask where Call is?”

Jake’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t reprimand her boldness. “He’s probably in that corner near the stage on the highest tier. That’s his reserved table.”

The elevated platform was shadowy. Mia made out the shape of a tall well-built male in the single chair, leaning back casually. She found it difficult to connect the hockey player in the stained jersey with this icon of elegance. Call’s perfectly tailored dinner jacket fit as naturally as a second skin. Light fell across his left sleeve, gleaming on a snowy cuff with a bright silver link. His hand rested on a nearly full champagne flute, his graceful fingers as long as a pianist’s. He held himself motionless—regally, she might have said. She noticed other eyes sliding in his direction, so perhaps he was still because he was self-conscious.

“Have you met him?” she couldn’t resist asking.

“Not directly.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Hush now. Management is coming.”

Management was a beautiful dark-skinned woman in an incredible turquoise gown. The sparkling garment wasn’t simply designed; it was designed for her. Its cloth flowed down her tall slim body like water.

Jake stood and greeted her.

“Mr. Reed,” she said, accepting his polite kiss. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Mia noted he didn’t respond with a name for her. He smoothed the front of his black silk shirt. “I hope you don’t mind me showing up unannounced.”

“Goodness, no. We’d given up on seeing you on a Thursday, you being such a
private
practitioner.”

Her emphasis was subtle, but Mia still heard it.

“Sometimes new toys require new approaches.”

Did he mean her? Mia looked up at him. Though he didn’t glance down, his hand dropped onto her back, where the cutouts in her dress bared skin. She wasn’t sure, but she thought his thumb and index finger were playing with her hair.

“She certainly is new,” Management agreed, a hint of doubt in her cultured voice. “Almost too new, if I’m not mistaken.”

“She’s obedient. So far anyway. And better coaxed than broken, to my thinking.”

“And you intend to ‘coax’ her here?” The woman’s skepticism was obvious.

“If you’re amenable. You know my reputation. I’m not one to harm anyone.”

Management pursed her lips. “She knows what you’ve planned?”

“I thought it best not to give her a chance to worry. Not that it would necessarily matter. She’s very responsive.”

Management startled Mia by crouching beside her chair, allowing Mia to look down at her obvious power superior. “Do you trust this man with your well being?” she asked. “Not just physically but also your emotions?”

The gorgeous woman stared directly into her eyes, making the question seem even more important. Instinctively, Mia knew she didn’t need Jake’s permission to answer.

“I do.” Her voice was husky. Management smiled as Mia cleared her throat.

“Very well,” she said, rising to her full height again. “Mr. Reed, we’d be honored to have you … coax your new toy in our company. Please let Gabriel know whatever assistance you require.”

AS
soon as Management left, Mia shot Jake a look she hoped would elicit answers to her questions. Jake didn’t oblige her.

“Finish your wine if you’re going to,” he said, his amusement faint but discernible. “There’s a room backstage where we’ll meet Gabriel.”

Not liking the sound of that, she left her wine untouched. She had a feeling she’d want her head clear for what came next.

The space he led her to was a combination of dressing room and erotic prop storage. Most everything she saw made her nervous but also a bit intrigued. If it hadn’t been for the people presumably waiting to watch out front, she’d have liked exploring some of these things with him.

“There’s a powder room,” Jake said, gesturing toward the open door. “You can freshen up and compose yourself.”

The idea of composure seemed optimistic. She splashed her blazing cheeks with cold water and dried her face on a towel. The girl who looked back at her from the mirror was wide-eyed. She remembered Jake calling her a doe in headlights. She certainly fit the description then.

You’re supposed to be like this,
she told herself.
This is what the plan depends on.

She blew out her breath and went to join Jake and Gabriel. The men were conferring on strategy.

“The rack makes a nice visual,” Gabriel was suggesting.

For a second, Mia thought he meant her breasts.

“Yes,” Jake said, “but I think I prefer the chair. Simple. Comfortable. Plus, there’s the Sharon Stone factor.”

“Jesus,” Mia blurted, automatically pressing her thighs together.

Jake turned to smile at her. He seemed very much at ease. “Good,” he said. “You look ready.”

~

Her photographic brain identified the chair as an Emeco “Navy” model in brushed aluminum, quite possibly an original 1944 version designed for submarines. The things lasted forever, so she’d heard. The chair was simple, its straight unadorned slats begging for body parts to be chained to them. It sat alone on Audition’s half-circle stage, lit up by an overhead spotlight.

The sight of it, waiting for her ass to plunk down in it, made her heart beat fast enough to dizzy her.

This was like one of those dreams where she was supposed to sing an aria but didn’t know Italian.

Jake stood behind her in the stage’s wing. He must have sensed her nervousness. He squeezed her tense shoulders and leaned closer. “You can’t fail,” he murmured into her ear. “Everything that happens here is on me.”

It was nice of him to say this, but she knew they were a team. If this went pear-shaped, she’d share the blame. She forced herself to focus on Management’s voice. Though Mia couldn’t see her, she was currently speaking on the other side of the closed curtain.

“As most of you know,” she said, “Thursdays are special at Audition. Tonight we watch demonstrations of our associates’ skills. During the presentation, silence is our golden rule. There are to be no comments or exclamations of any sort, neither to praise nor to criticize. Break this rule and security will escort you out. No exceptions, no second chances. You
will
respect this opportunity to learn.” She paused to let her words sink in. “Elaine? Please activate the curtain. Mister R, the stage is yours.”

As the curtain hissed upward, Mia realized
Mister R
was Jake. Management was protecting his privacy. A few last coughs disrupted the audience, after which quiet reigned.