Eyes Wide Open (13 page)

Shit.
Battery operated oblivion it was then—or was it? Perhaps it was time to get her kicks somewhere else.

Although it had only been the tiniest part of their evening together and hadn’t involved her directly, Fiona often replayed in her mind the scene where Logan had used the flogger on James’ gorgeous naked arse. She also now knew—due to extensive pillow talk when they’d been catching a breath—that it had been tame compared to what normally happened between them. The two of them were heavily into BDSM, and Logan often spanked, whipped and caned his lover, making it uncomfortable for him to sit down for days, in spite of Logan’s loving aftercare. And they both adored it. It was a big part of their relationship, though they’d been eager to add that it wasn’t necessary all the time, that they were happy to indulge in good old-fashioned vanilla fucking, either with or without a third party.

Something about it had sparked Fiona’s imagination. It was cheesy, but her night with them had truly been a revelation, one that had opened her eyes wide. She’d been thrown in at the deep end with the two of them, presented with seemingly endless opportunities, and had enjoyed every last second. And now she’d had time to absorb it all, go over it in her head, figure out her feelings on the matter, she knew she’d do it all again in an instant if given the chance.

But she also wanted more. She’d been bitten by the experimentation bug, and although she wasn’t up for taking any stupid risks, she had to know about the darker side of James and Logan’s relationship—the side that involved handcuffs, gags, blindfolds, whips, floggers and all manner of things she had no idea about.

In an ideal world, she’d ask them if they were interested in showing her, but that wasn’t an option. They’d upped and left without so much as a goodbye, and she had no way of contacting them, not without exploiting the hotel’s information system, and she wasn’t willing to do that. It’d be way too easy to get caught and would be a gross invasion of privacy—a sackable offense. She’d already played with fire by spending the night with them and had gotten away with it. She wasn’t about to get burned by trying to repeat the experience, especially since she had no idea whether they would want to. Perhaps they were happy to leave things at one decadent, debauched night, and move on.

Much as the idea disappointed Fiona, she figured it was probably the case. Otherwise, why would they have checked out and not tried to get in touch with her or found a way to pass on their details? No doubt if she did risk contacting them, she’d make a complete fool of herself. They might not even remember who she was.

Resolving to leave things well alone with James and Logan, she made a mental note to start researching BDSM in her own time. She knew from passing comments that had been made while out with friends and colleagues in London that there were many fetish events, all over the city and the wider suburbs, so she’d just have to find one or two that appealed, and check them out. See where things went from there.

Nodding to herself, she took a couple of deep breaths and got her brain back into work mode, determined to come out with something genius to dazzle her colleagues and boss. Private life and multiple orgasms be damned—she’d been told from the moment she started her creative writing degree that skill could not be taught. It seemed she had a knack for it. It was just a matter of bringing it out, nurturing it and improving upon it further. She wasn’t short of determination or ambition, either. She could do it,
would
do it.

Putting fingers to keyboard, she began to type.

* * * *

Later, as Fiona lounged in the bath with a book, she found her mind wandering. It was nothing to do with the quality of the writing, the storyline or the characters, and everything to do with the curiosity that seemed to be constantly burning away in the back of her mind. It had now crept to the forefront and demanded to be noticed, to be addressed.

How had it felt for Logan to be flogging James? To swing his muscular arm with varying degrees of force, knowing that when the blow landed, it was going to hurt the man he loved? To leave marks that would grow angrier and more painful the longer he went on?

And what about the reverse? What did James experience, other than the obvious pain, when Logan flogged him? Or whipped him? Or plain ol’ spanked him? It had to feel good—for both of them—otherwise they wouldn’t do it. And she’d seen with her own eyes the evidence that it aroused both of them immensely. It had aroused her, too, as she’d watched.

They’d talked a lot about the surrender of control, of letting go, but she hadn’t fully grasped what they’d meant, and supposed she wouldn’t until she’d experienced it for herself. It was clearly about much more than giving and receiving pain.

Putting the bookmark in, she placed the novel on the floor beside the bath. Then, shifting so her pale thighs were out of the water, she lifted her right hand and brought it down, hard, on her right thigh. The sound was shocking, amplified by the water and the tiled room. It took a second or two for the physical sensation to hit. A sharp bloom of pain across her skin. She gasped. Granted, she hadn’t hit herself very hard, but it had still stung.

Repeating the action on her left side, though with more force, she experienced the same physical reactions, with more intensity. Pink marks had appeared on her soft skin, her blood rushing to the surface, and suddenly, as the mild discomfort morphed into something darker, more delicious, she began to understand exactly why this sort of thing floated James’ and Logan’s respective boats.

Chapter Sixteen

Having finally managed to cross Park Lane—which, to a pedestrian, felt like trying to cross a busy motorway—Fiona was swallowed into the relative peace and immense greenery of Hyde Park. She’d found that, providing there were no big events on, it was a great place to go running. So large it never seemed crowded—big events notwithstanding—but always having people around, it felt safe.

Keeping to a gentle jog until she got away from the busier area of Hyde Park Corner, where tourists gathered as they entered and exited the Tube station, Fiona was careful not to collide with any of the people peering at maps, guidebooks and phones.

Soon, though, as the area opened up and path after path filtered big groups into smaller ones, couples and solo folk, she picked up her speed. Her feet pounded the well-maintained walkways, and she was able to relax, empty her mind as she traveled meter after meter.

Today was Friday, and a rare day off during the week, so she didn’t have to rush. Four weeks had passed since what Fiona had dubbed That Night, and the last two of them had been crazy. A bunch of meetings among the upper management of the Totally Five Star company as a whole had resulted in lots of new things being passed down the chain of command—improvements to be made, changes to plan and put into force, and approval of ideas pitched now needing to be actioned.

Only the latter had affected Fiona and her team, and one of Fiona’s own ideas, much to her delight, had been not only accepted, but highly commended by upper management. So she’d been given the major responsibility—though still being overseen by Sophia—of getting things going. It had been a mammoth task, one that had required her to work a great deal of overtime, but she’d loved every minute. Seeing her ideas come to life, having them appreciated and admired by others… It had definitely been worth all the hard work.

As a result, though, she’d barely left the hotel in two weeks, as she’d either been working or so exhausted from work that she couldn’t muster the energy to head out. Which was why Sophia had, the previous day, called her into her office and notified her that she was having the following day off—no arguments.

Her body clock had still woken her at the usual time, much to her chagrin. But she felt rested, and after tossing and turning a while then coming to the conclusion that she wouldn’t get back to sleep, she’d gotten up, dressed in her exercise gear, then headed out. The brilliant sunshine had been very welcome, and Fiona enjoyed it now as it bathed her skin, albeit in spits and spots as she passed in and out of the shadows of the huge trees filling the park.

She decided to head as far as the road that bisected The Serpentine and The Long Water, follow it up to the north side of the park, then loop back around to Speakers’ Corner and Marble Arch, cross back over Park Lane and go through the thick of Mayfair to get back to the hotel. She’d likely get snarled up in foot traffic around the Marble Arch area, but once she left Park Lane and disappeared off down one of the side streets, it’d soon fall quiet again. Not many tourists seemed to penetrate that far, which was a shame for them, Fiona felt, as they were missing out on amazing squares, restaurants and architecture—not to mention celeb-spotting.

Immediate plans made, Fiona allowed her brain to consider her evening’s entertainment. She was heading to a fetish event. Weeks of indecision and a heavy workload meant that her research into the kinky lifestyle James and Logan had given her the tiniest glimpse of had been difficult, to say the least. It hadn’t been as simple as a Google search and job done. Once she’d opened up the search engine, she’d fallen into a digital rabbit hole with a seemingly endless choice of websites, venues and events. So much so that she’d had to go on a bookmarking frenzy, then go through each website over the course of several evenings until she’d found what seemed best for her.

Being given the day off had helped make her decision. In her naïveté, Fiona had thought she could just rock up at one of the clubs whenever she felt like it and walk right in. However, her research had revealed that most of the events only happened on certain dates, and pretty much all of them had strict dress codes. Turning up in her trusty little black dress wasn’t going to cut it, apparently, but although this particular evening’s event had been top of her to-visit list, she hadn’t thought she’d have time to go shopping.

Now, though, with oodles of free time laid out ahead of her, everything was falling into place. She could go shopping, find something that would pass the dress code without making her too self-conscious or look ridiculous, then attend what had been lauded
London’s friendliest fetish event
. Fiona hoped the emphasis on ‘friendliest’ wasn’t exaggerated. She was going alone, which was nerve-wracking enough, without having the shit scared out of her by other attendees. She wished she had someone to go with, but she hadn’t been brave enough to ask any of her colleagues, or Gary, Ben or Jenny, and she’d still not seen hide nor hair of James and Logan, so it was alone or not at all. And her curiosity wasn’t going to hold out much longer. She had to find out what the hell this was all about, whether it was for her or not. Then at least she could move on.

A spike of irritation flared as she thought of James and Logan, but rather than allowing her mind to continue down that path, she picked up speed, forcing her brain to engage wholly with her body, to push it to its fullest potential. Grass, trees, bushes and people whipped past in a blur, but she managed to maintain her speed for a good while, until screaming lungs and muscles forced her to take a break and flop onto a wooden bench in the shade of a huge old oak tree. Gulping at her sports drink, she quickly regained her equilibrium. Then she stood up and continued her run at a more manageable pace, the thought of a nice long shower dangling like an invisible carrot in front of her.

* * * *

Two hours later and Fiona was showered, changed, briefly rested and back out on the streets of London. The run had helped clear her mind, cast off her worries and sharpen her focus on the night ahead, which was why she was now heading south of the river to a specialist shop that she hoped would help get her kitted out without breaking the bank. Granted, her wage was much better these days, but she didn’t want to spend a fortune on something that might end up being worn once then relegated to the very back of her wardrobe, never to be seen again.

Her eyes widening as she caught sight of the window displays, Fiona took a deep breath before pushing open the shop door and crossing the threshold. Somehow, she knew that the most outrageous stuff wouldn’t be in the window, and that the things she saw in the shop would be nothing compared to what she’d clap eyes on at the event. So she had to hurry up and get used to this kind of thing, otherwise she’d spend the whole evening resembling a goldfish. Not sexy.

An attractive blonde-haired woman dressed in a black and red corset and black leggings was tidying a rack of outfits. She smiled as Fiona entered. “Hi, honey,” she said. “You need help finding something, or are you just looking around?”

Wondering if she looked as nervous as she felt, she replied, “I’m just looking for now. I don’t quite know what I want, really.”

“No problem at all. If you need any help, or have any questions, just let me know. I’m Divine.”

Yeah,
Fiona thought,
you are, actually. If I was into women…

Smiling politely, she thanked Divine and looked around, wondering where to start. At least there weren’t any other customers to observe her discomfort. Steering away from racks full of black PVC and chains, she headed for the racks with colorful items on them, hoping to find something a little more beginner-friendly. Soon, she discovered a black and white PVC schoolgirl outfit. Okay, so it wasn’t terribly original, but she reckoned she could wear it without being too embarrassed, and it was the sort of thing one might wear to a hen party. It was sexy and slutty, sure, but it didn’t scream
I’m going to a fetish club!
, which was the main thing.

Grabbing one in her size, she screwed up her courage and walked over to the counter, which Divine now stood behind, clicking away at the computer. “Hi,” she said, looking up immediately as Fiona approached. “You all right?”

“Yes, thanks. I’m just wondering if it would be possible to try this on, please?” Then, glancing doubtfully at the outfit, added, “And if I get stuck, will you help me get out of it?”