Red Hots (3 page)

“Not
sure what you’re hinting toward…” In a brazen move, she allowed him to see her
set the box on her desk without even attempting to peep inside of it. “But I
love my
career
. I’ve worked too damn hard to get where I am and I plan
to remain immersed in it deep. Now, I have a case that will not try itself.”
Dismissed
.

With
a sharp nod at her words, he turned and headed for the door. There he paused
and glanced back over his shoulder, pinning her with captivating eyes. “Happy
Birthday, Kindle.” He briskly strolled out of the office with his precision strides.

She
realized that he must have seen her given name carved into the emerald green
marble name plate on her desk. However, what really grabbed her was that she’d
forgotten her own birthday.
Shit
.

~YH~

Masaun
stood under the spray of his shower three hours later, still attempting to
shake off the effects of his encounter with Kindle Langston. After an hour-and-thirty-five-minute
drive in rush hour traffic from the courthouse only twenty-two miles away on 64
West, he’d arrived home, cooked dinner and eaten, yet he still found himself
plagued by the prosecutor. It wasn’t that she was sexy.

Which
she was. With her dark hair, round, russet-brown eyes and thick, bow-shaped
lips, all complimented by her chestnut skin tone. That was all above the neck.
He could in no way stop himself from continuing the train of thought to her
body anymore than he’d succeeded in doing it over the last few hours. The fact that
he couldn’t set her looks and figure aside was one of the things that disturbed
him. He spent more than four nights a week around women in all states of nudity
at The Dollhouse. However, none of them had sparked more than a moment of
interest in him and it had been too many years to count since anyone had him in
an all-consuming state of need.

His
cock had awakened at the first sight of her and had not receded. In his car,
his mind had taunted him with her body, hidden from him in her stylish suit,
and her scent. It had to be a figment of his imagination that she smelled like
cashmere and orchids. The warm, floral aroma had surrounded him and nudged him
down the road of erotic madness. It was an unrestrained road where there was no
control or governing of action. A place he had not been since becoming a Dom
more than ten years ago.

As
a hotshot lawyer in the corporate arena, he had moved among the rich and
successful. He frequently not only found himself called upon to get them out of
multiple financial legal situations, most criminal, but invited to late night
parties and dinners. Women wanting a slice of the success pie had thrown
themselves at him willingly. Most nights his bed was occupied with one
meaningless tryst after another. Until he felt suffocated and empty by the
existence.

Then
one day while he was at an event for one of his clients in a Virginia Beach
hotel conference room, he had begun feeling suffocated, needing some time to
himself. Leaving the ballroom, he wandered down a back corridor to the men’s
room. He’d been halted in his tracks when he saw an old college buddy of his
coming out of one of the ballrooms with a short petite Asian woman. It wasn’t
the fact that his friend was white and the woman was of another race that got
Masaun, but that his friend Charles was dressed in a pair of black leather
pants, a button down grey shirt and he was wearing a collar and cuffs. The
woman wore four inch, knee-hi, black boots and a short red trench coat buttoned
all the way up and tied. Masaun could only imagine what she was wearing beneath
it.

Icy
cold water ran in streams down Masaun’s head and over his shoulders and created
rivulets along his back as he recalled questioning Charles.

Masaun
had stepped to his friend and said hello, but Masaun had been shocked more when
before Charles spoke to him, he glanced at the lady beside him. Once she had
nodded, he shook hands with Masaun and greeted him with a firm handshake. They’d
tossed around a few pleasantries and Charles had taken an opportunity to
introduce him to his wife, Lia, of four years. However, Masaun couldn’t hold
his own curiosity at bay. He questioned them about their costumes and asked if
they were coming from a party or some sort of evening comic con-type event.
Charles had boldly proclaimed that they were in a bondage lifestyle and that he
was her submissive.

“You’re
shittin’ me,” came out of Masaun’s mouth before he could curb his tongue. He’d
heard about people who liked being tied up, but he didn’t believe he’d ever
known any really into anything more than tying their girlfriends to a bed or
some slap-and-tickle kind of kinky fun between lovers.

While
he stood there trying to take it all in, Charles said they needed to go, but he
and Masaun would catch up one day soon.

Four
weeks later, the meeting had nagged at the back of Masaun’s mind as he became
more and more of a shell in his own life and career. Finally deciding, just for
curiosity’s sake, he would get in contact with Charles for lunch. Tracking down
the number of his old friend only took him a few calls to mutual friends and
two days later they met for a long lunch at a back table at 219 Bistro in
Norfolk.

There,
Charles had opened up to him about feeling as if something was missing from his
life even though his career as a publicist was going well. He’d been invited by
a coworker to attend a munch one night, where he witnessed an ex-Army ranger
submitting to his Mistress under the flogger. Charles said he’d expected to be
revolted or see it as a joke, but something clicked inside of him and he
started asking questions. He met his wife four months later at a dungeon and
everything fell into place. Charles still worked as a publicist in the day, but
before and after work, he followed the orders of his wife or Domme, as Charles
referred to Lia. Charles extended the offer that if Masaun was interested, he
would take him around to some open events.

It
took Masaun another three months before he took his friend up on the offer. The
moment he’d entered a dungeon and began watching scenes, trying to decide which
role he identified with, Dom or sub, a Master-trainer who had been in the lifestyle
for thirty-two years pegged Masaun for a dominant. Master Shilling, a banker,
had told Masaun he’d been watching him and noted that Masaun was more focused
on the strength, control and ability of the Dominant than the strength and
trust of the submissive in scenes.

The
man had been correct. Masaun had begun meeting him at The Dollhouse for
training and his life had changed—he’d found peace even though all of the
emptiness hadn’t left him. Not even when a year later he’d connected with a
submissive named Firefly. They not only entered into a Dom/sub relationship,
but dated for many years. He’d believed he loved her, or at least cared deeply
about Naomi. However, when she’d been offered a promotion and new position in
Vermont as a graphic designer, she’d chosen her career over what they had.

That
had cut him to his core. He believed that even though he believed in his
submissive having the independence of a career, he made the hazardous
assumption that they would chose him over their vocation. Yes, he knew it was a
lot to ask for, but he would do the same. Since Firefly, he’d continued to
train at The Dollhouse but never took on another submissive.

Now
here he was, standing in the shower with an erection that had finally receded
physically but still hummed low in his core for a woman he knew would only lead
him to more discontent in his life. Kindle was not for him, he reminded himself
as he finished bathing and shutting off the shower.

Briskly
wiping down his body with a bath sheet, he chided himself for giving her his
number. On the back of the card, he’d written down his cell phone number. Not
that he expected her to call. It would be best for him if once he’d left she’d
tossed the Red Hots and his card into the trash, still closed.

Exhaling,
he hung the towel up on the bar to dry, put on deodorant then padded naked into
his bedroom. Kindle was the perfect example of the wrong woman for him. The
fact that she was so committed to her career that she used a male moniker, Kin,
instead of her full first name, more feminine. That clearly said that in a male
dominated career field, she wanted to blend in, remove her sexuality and
gender. Make the men on her level and above her see her as equal. She’d
achieved the status of one of the assistant Commonwealth attorneys at a young
age, letting him know she gave her all to her job in order to move up the
ladder.

“Not
for me,” he voiced aloud to himself as he dressed in black slacks and a black,
fitted t-shirt and short leather speed boots. He didn’t dress in a form-fitting
shirt because he wanted to show off his physique, but as a trainer the Doms he
would be working with tonight needed to see the lines of his body clearly as he
demonstrated movements and positioning. The foot apparel was more for comfort,
because he would be on his feet for hours.

Going
downstairs of his four bedroom home, he grabbed his keys and cell phone from the
coffee table where he set them when he came home. Out of habit, he checked his
messages; there was a missed call from his mother. He would return that in the
morning, but other than that nothing. Walking out the door he didn’t allow
himself to feel anything about the evidence that Kindle hadn’t called.

It
was for the best. Regardless of how his Dom instincts had gone off when he’d
stopped her from going into her drawer to get money to tip him. He hadn’t
mistaken how quickly her movement had halted and for a moment, she froze in
place before seeming to regain her awareness and rising. After that, she’d held
the legal pad against her chest like it was a shield against something, him.

Watching
her bend to his instructions, submitting willingly, turned his core inside out.
Once again his cock began to rise and press against the inside of his pants
with the image of Kindle’s chestnut brown ass availed to him as she leaned over
a spanking bench.

However,
he mentally erased the trail leading to that thought. The probability of it
happening was none to none.

In
his car, he pulled out of his driveway and headed to the dungeon. At least
there he could lose himself in the echoes of peace he desired.

CHAPTER three

Kin,

Life
is too short not to allow your soul space to live. Another birthday is here. I
would hope you’ll start taking the time to do something for yourself…like
learning to let go. I believe he can help.

Love,
love.

Emmalee

Staring
at the card for the tenth time since she’d opened it, Kindle pondered the
semi-cryptic message her friend had written inside. She knew part of what
Emmalee meant was an old argument. Since her friend had started practicing her
new lifestyle, Emmalee had said it helped her reset her focus and set aside the
stress and cares of the day.

That
sounded good, Kindle said to herself. It was what she always told herself when
she was sitting at work at nine o’clock at night still going over a coming
case. After a meal of two packets of Sugar Babies and four Mary Janes, she’d
carried the candy basket to the break room. The interns and paralegals went
crazy over it. Kindle had laughed to herself considering that most of the brands
had been around longer than the support staff.

The
only thing she still had was the card and the box of Red Hots. As she stared
down at the card, she mindlessly flipped the box end over end while she read
the card. She knew who Emmalee referred to as ‘he’. Or at least it would appear
that ‘he’ was the delivery man. Unless another man was going to come strolling
into her office with a swagger in his step that would make David Gandy’s
catwalk seem gangly. Doubtful.

What
way did Emmalee believe he could help me?

Kindle
stopped twirling the candy, started to open it to remove the card he’d stuffed
inside, but stopped. Instead she reached for the phone. When she wanted answers
it was always best that she just went directly to the source.

“Good
evening, Spencer residence.” A deep, gravelly voice, sounding like Brad Garrett,
came through the line.

Kindle
was always impressed by the sound of Randolph Spencer, Emmalee’s boyfriend’s
voice, since he was just a few inches taller than Emmalee and almost as thin.
However, Emmalee loved him. Shaking her head, Kindle figured her friend had to,
since she gave the man almost complete control over her life. When he was at
home, he answered the phone and
permitted
Emmalee to use it. But, it was
the life her friend had chosen, so Kindle stayed out of it.

It
couldn’t be me, Kindle thought. She was her own person. She liked to come and
go and answer her phone when she wanted to. At the same time, she was honest
with herself that it seemed to make Emmalee truly happy and there was a radiance
to her skin. A joy that Kindle hadn’t seen since they were both in high school.
For that, Kindle was grateful.

“Hello,
Randolph. Sorry to call so late, I wanted to speak with Emmalee briefly if you
don’t mind.”

“Not
at all.” It was what he said all the time. It wasn’t as if he forbade Emmalee
use of the phone or other things like a prisoner, but it was just the hold on
her Randolph seemed to have. “How are you?”

“Good.
Have a big case coming up so you know how that goes.”

“I
saw on the news you’d be the lead prosecutor handling it for the CA’s office.
You’ll get this guy,” he declared.

His
confident words made her feel good. Kindle had a lot riding on this case.
Seeing a wicked, wicked man go to jail and elevating her career next year when
the Commonwealth Attorney retired.

“Thanks.”

“One
moment and I’ll get Lolli.”

Lolli
was his nickname for her friend. Kindle knew that Master Razor was what Emmalee
referred to him as, all of it having to do with their lifestyle.

The
background was silent for a moment and Kindle assumed he was taking Emmalee the
phone. A courtesy Kindle liked instead of people yelling all over the house for
someone to get the phone, or pick up the phone or come get the phone. When she
was growing up, there were six of them in her house, her and her three older
brothers as well as their parents, and someone was always yelling for someone
else.

There
was low conversation in the background that she picked up through the phone.

“Thank
you, Master Razor, for permitting me to speak with my friend,” Emmalee was
saying.

Kindle
pictured her on her knees or something. She had only been around Randolph and
Emmalee a few times, both those times were at restaurants. Even though he
ordered for her friend and Emmalee asked for permission to begin eating or to go
to the restroom, Kindle had never seen any physical acts of their lifestyle.
She had wondered aloud about it with Emmalee who had agreed to tell her
whatever she wanted to know, but Kindle always declined. That was her friend’s
choice of lifestyle and Kindle respected it, even if she didn’t really agree.

“You’re
welcome, little one. You have fifteen minutes. If you need more time arrange
lunch with her sometime next week,” Randolph directed

His
voice was always patient when he spoke to Emmalee and Kindle had witnessed the
light touches he gave her. She knew they were cues of some kind, but that
gentleness was what kept Kindle from calling the cops or dragging Emmalee away
from him. No matter how great her friend thought the relationship, Kindle wouldn’t
let her be abused.

“Are
you still at work on your birthday?” Emmalee asked, not bothering with any sort
of greeting.

Groaning,
Kindle dropped the small box and leaned back in her chair. “Guilty.”

“Did
you even see the sunlight today, Kin?”

Kindle
could imagine her friend with her arms crossed over her chest and her foot
tapping on the floor.

“Yes,
I did. I went to the jail to take a depo from an inmate who heard the child-killing
pedophile Peter mumbling to himself about one of the kids. I think the son of a
bitch is layering the case with a hope for mental incapacity or by reason of
insanity.”

“You’re
not going to let that happen, are you? All those kids…practically babies.”
Emmalee’s voice turned heavy with concern.

“Hell,
no. This bastard can play all the games he wants to. I have a drawer full of
evidence to have him put away for life and in some states, get him the electric
chair or death by lethal injection a hundred and one times.” Peter Dashell, or
CKP Peter as he was known in the news, short for Child Killing Pedophile Peter,
wasn’t the first serial murderer that tried to get off. She knew her job was to
stay two steps ahead of a defendant and his defense team.

“Phew.”
Emmalee’s sigh was heavy and loud. “Okay, enough of that, did you like your
candy?” The excitement practically oozed out of the phone from her friend.

“Yes.
If not for it, I wouldn’t have had dinner,” Kindle teased with all seriousness.
The last real food she’d had was when she’d driven through the coffee shop and
grabbed a chai tea and a bagel.

“Ugh!
Kindle, you really need to treat your body better.
Yourself
better.”

“I
will… As soon as this trial is over.”

“And
the next. And the next. And the next.”

It
was true, she had been promising that she would take less high-profile cases.
That she would use her vacation time and go somewhere quiet. But, with the case
before her, it would most likely be another year. It had already consumed the
last nine months of her life, since they had caught and arrested the perpetrator.
It was finally headed to trial.

“I’ll
do it. I promise. But, I did want to tell you thank you for the basket. It’s
good to know that one of us remembered my birthday.”

“No
comment.” Emmalee laughed.

“Thank
you.” Glancing over at the box of candy with the card still hidden inside,
Kindle began, “So, tell me who you meant by he.”

“Um…who
delivered your basket?” There was an unsure tone to her friend’s voice.

“I
don’t know his name. Some guy from Decadent Treats.” Kindle had read the shop’s
name off the ribbon and flier in the basket. It had also been the words on the
bold man’s tie, but she hadn’t wanted to stare at it…or
him
longer than
she already had. However, Kindle was hoping he wasn’t the “who” Emmalee was
referring to. “What does a simple delivery man have to do with this?”

Emmalee
chuckled. “If the person I hope delivered your basket…” She paused then
continued. “Oh, my, did you read him wrong, Madame Attorney. There is nothing
simple
about Dom Hawk.”

“Who?
What?” Kindle felt as if she were missing something in the conversation.

“Describe
the man to me.”

“Okay,
I’ll humor you.” Nervous for some reason she wasn’t going to try to understand,
she licked her lips. “He was a man.”

“Funny.
Hair, eye color, build…I’m sure you recall the drill somewhere in your brain
even though it has been way too long since you probably looked at someone for
pure pleasure instead of analyzing them.”

“Ouch.”
Kindle couldn’t argue with that fact, because her friend’s words were too true.
“Fine. Tall with thick brown hair that was neatly trimmed but still held a
slight wave to it. Broad shoulders and big, strong, capable-looking hands. He
had eyes a combination of greenish-gray, laurel maybe. Nice eyes, but
serious…no maybe too direct like he was looking into
my
soul—” Kindle
stopped talking. She’d gone way too far. It had not been her intention to go
into such great detail or reveal how the man made her insides shiver out of
nervousness and pleasure.

The
man unsettled her even when he wasn’t there. Even now her body became
overheated and her breasts felt heavy and her nipples were tightening. Okay,
the man was sexy, plain and simple. Any healthy, red-blooded woman would
probably have the same response while thinking about him.

“Wow.
I’m glad you didn’t get a good look at him,” Emmalee teased.

“Anyway.”
Kindle wanted to get off this stream of conversation.

“That
is definitely Dom Hawk. I met him about a year or so ago at a place called The
Dollhouse.”

Kindle
frowned. “Isn’t that where you started going to get beaten or whipped or
something?”

“Yes.
In a manner of speaking but its more than that.” There was a slight tension
that came into her friend’s voice.

This
was a touchy subject between them. Kindle tried her best not to allow her own
prejudices to rain down on her friend, but at times like this, when she was
feeling a little off kilter, Kindle couldn’t help it.

“I’ll
take your word for it. So, you were saying this delivery guy goes there too?”

“It’s
not what you do in the lifestyle…it’s about recognizing and discovering who you
are in the lifestyle. Your true self.”

She
had heard all this before from her friend.

“Anyway.
He and his brother actually own the candy shop. Matter of fact, Dom Hawk
introduced me to my Master.”

“Ah,
so this is a birthday hook up. Maybe if he and I hit it off, you can give me
some
stress
relief
. A way for me to
do something for myself
and
let go
of some tension.” Kindle gave her friend back the words that
were in the card. It was becoming clearer to Kindle and in some ways the
knowledge brought relief, but there was also a twinge of disappointment that it
wasn’t something more. She mentally grabbed that twinge and buried it in a
pocket in her mind. This guy wasn’t her type; he was too intense, she didn’t
have time to deal with that.

“No,
Kindle. I mean, if there was a connection you all found then great. But, in the
months I worked with Dom Hawk while he was training me is when I started
feeling peace in my life. An inner tranquility that took me away from the
drudges of my work day as I allowed someone else to lead, take control.”

“That
is all fine and dandy for you, but I don’t ne—”

“Yes
you do. I’ve known you since middle school. You’re my best friend. Don’t close
yourself off from something before you give it a chance. Look, I need to get
going. We can talk about this later, maybe lunch next week. Just promise me you’ll
think about it.”

Kindle
exhaled a hard and loud breath purposely so her friend could hear it. “I’ll
think about it.”

“Great.
Happy birthday again and go home, Kindle.”

“Okay.
Okay.” They ended the call. A lot of things Emmalee had said were true. Kindle
knew she had a habit of seeing something and quickly categorizing things in her
life or into a pile out of her life. The last place was where a lot of things
that weren’t work related ended up.

Reaching
over, she picked up the Red Hots. She’d never been afraid to at least look at
something, read it. Moving more on impulse instead of a firm thought, she
peeled off the tape and pried the top open. Small red candies rained down on
her desk, trapping the papers underneath them as she pulled the card out.