Slow Seduction (Struck by Lightning) (4 page)

No, he was crueler than that. He cleared his throat, pulled his hands free, and held them out for the women to lick clean. As their tongues went to work, he said, “We have scandalized Karina enough. I’ll finish with you two in the car. To the ladies’ washroom with you now. Neaten up, and
no touching each other
.”

He snapped his fingers again, and the two flushed, panting women straightened up, neatened their clothes, and then sauntered off toward the restroom, one of them smirking with glee.

Damon turned to me. “You look much more intrigued than scandalized, actually, Karina.”

I tried to arrange a properly offended look on my face, but failed.

“Were you aroused by what you saw? Or by the idea of it?” he asked.

I was aroused by the memory of James touching me that way, I thought. That was all. “Mr. George,” I said. “What are you getting at?”

He grinned. “So formal. I told you I only like to be formal with those I’m fucking. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were flirting with me.”

He was infuriating. I was about to tell him to fuck off when he reached into his jacket. He pulled out a business card from the inner pocket, but that wasn’t all. With the card was a red satin glove.

I stared at it. The Crimson Glove Society? Was that what Renault had called the secret group of rich kinksters James was part of? James had told me they had started in the UK. Damon tucked the glove away and handed me the card.

All that was printed on it was a phone number. Déjà vu. It was exactly like the card James had given me once with his own number on the back.

I held the card between two fingers and sneered. “And I suppose you expect me to call you when I can’t stand it anymore and need Daddy to come spank me?”

“Oh no, Karina. That’s not my number. That’s a much more intriguing proposition.”

I looked at him skeptically.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged, as if trying to take his arrogance down a notch. “It’s a private club here in London. I’m a recruiter of sorts.”

“You recruit new members?”

He huffed a little laugh. “Not members. S-type trainees.”

“S-types?”

“Slaves, servants, submissives,” he said with a small smile. “There’s a training program. The two women with me? They’re trainees, nearly ready to graduate into full service at the club.”

My mind raced. It was one more lead, one more thing that could take me to James. That night after he’d kicked me out, who did he turn to? Lucinda? Some other acquaintance at the party? And if he was here in England, which seemed certain to me, whether he was looking for a new Cinderella or trying to forget the old one, wouldn’t the Crimson Glove Society be where he’d go?

I took a deep breath. “Are you inviting me to…to become a trainee?”

He seemed very serious now, very sober and unlike the cocky playboy he had been. “I am inviting you to entertain the idea. If you’d like to talk with these two about their experiences, I’ll give them permission to. If you are interested after that, I will sponsor you for training.”

“And if I call this number and say, ‘Damon sent me,’ what happens?”

“You’ll be interviewed and auditioned. There are no guarantees you’d be accepted, of course, but I am intrigued. Intrigued enough that I would also consider training you personally to prep you for the audition…” A hint of that cocksure tone crept back into his voice. “If you were interested.”

The sound of two pairs of high heels clicking reached my ears. His companions were returning.

“I’m really not interested in you personally, Damon,” I said, “but I am intrigued by the club.”

“Good. Did you want to talk to them?” He gestured to the women.

“That seems like a good idea.”

“If you’re free now, I think you should go for coffee.”

“Right now? I thought you were about to, um…”

He laughed. “I know what you thought. You thought if I couldn’t fuck them right here in the gallery, I was going to do it the second we got into the limo. It’s tempting, of course. But part of being a handler is not giving in to temptation. Or, at least, knowing when to. I see a much greater opportunity in front of me here, to bring you into our midst.”

“Oh?”

“And then maybe in the future I’ll get to fuck all three of you here in the gallery
and
in the back of the car. Who knows?” The mischievous grin was back. “I am willing to raise the stakes on my bet.”

Part of me was saying “no way, buddy,” but the offer was intriguing as a way to search for James…And maybe it was time to find out if what I was craving in James’s absence was really James, or just the sexual domination he’d addicted me to. “All right, fine. The girls and I will have coffee, and you should go have a cold shower or whatever it is you do.”

He laughed a delighted laugh. “Excellent. Call the guard to lock up and we’ll get out of here.”

The two women were named Nadia and Juniper, who told me to call her Juney. I would have bet money on them being Scandinavian fashion models or something, but once they started talking, they magically transformed into hardworking women from Manchester. Damon ensconced us in a booth at the very back of a dimly lit café and then left us alone.

“He’s trying to recruit you. Exciting!” Juney enthused.

“Is it? I mean, tell me about this training program. How long have you been doing it?”

“About six months for me. Nadia, you?”

“Around eight,” the brunette said. “That doesn’t count the first three months with Damon, though.”

“So you took him up on the—how did he put it—
personal
training offer first?” I asked.

“Well, more like we had a wild fling for three months, at the end of which he foisted me onto the club,” she said with a chuckle. “Being with him for three months was fun. Training for the club is more exciting, though.”

“Is it? What sorts of things do you have to do?”

“Well, it starts with basic stuff like waitressing at the club itself,” Nadia said.

“I should be able to breeze through that…”

“Some trainees provide specialty services, like massage or barbering.”

Juney slapped her lightly on the shoulder. “She doesn’t want to hear about the boring stuff. She wants to hear about the S-E-X.” She leaned forward and cradled her coffee mug. “The sex is amayyyyyy-zing.”

“Okay, that’s what I’m trying to figure out though.” I leaned forward myself. “Are you getting paid for this? Is it…prostitution?”

They both laughed like I was being ridiculous. “The whole point is that we aren’t paid,” Juney said, “because if we were, it would be. We’re doing it because it’s exciting and fun and a fantastic way to meet ridiculously rich men.”

“And women,” Nadia added. “Maybe once upon a time the club members were gentlemen, but these days, it’s equal opportunity for tops
and
trainees. We’re the eye candy at the club and the practice dummies for tops in training, too. Kinky rich people need play partners who aren’t always other kinky rich people, or it gets complicated.”

“But then sometimes you want it to get complicated,” Juney said. “
I know 
I’m kinky as fuck, but I’ve had it with the dumb-ass doms at the nightclubs. They don’t know how to treat a submissive right. And the online dating thing? Ugh. They look real kinky online, but then you meet them and it’s the same old thing. They want to spank you a couple of times and then: ‘Hey dearie, make me a sandwich so I can watch Manchester United on the telly.’”

“Wait, so, you won’t make your boyfriend a sandwich, but you don’t mind waitressing for rich people?”

Juney rolled her eyes. “It’s not the
same.
Nadi, you explain it.”

Nadia cleared her throat and took a sip of her tea. “Training has some specific steps. You have to learn general service, a specialty skill, and show progress in sexual uses. But there are rules.”

“I assume everyone’s sworn to secrecy?”

“Naturally. What I mean is there are rules regarding what they can and can’t do to trainees.” Nadia glanced around before continuing. “Some are obvious. I mean, they can’t hurt you or make any permanent marks, for example.”

“The big one, though, is you get to pick something you won’t do,” Juney said, eyes alight. “So, you know, if you’re afraid of fire you could say no fire play.”

“Fire play?”

Nadia clucked her tongue. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. But you know, the whole thing is about limits and rules. And honor, personal honor. That’s the real basis of this lifestyle. It’s all about who can be trusted. If you can’t be trusted, you’re out.”

I wondered if that was part of James’s hang-up about honesty. “Okay, and Damon’s in charge of your training?”

“No, we’re actually mostly working under a woman named Vanette. Mr. George is testing us tonight, though.” Juney giggled. “I can’t wait!”

“I’m keeping you from him, then,” I said, taking a gulp of my coffee.

“Oh, he would have come up with some other diabolical delay, I’m sure,” Juney answered. “I’m hoping the wait has made him randy as a horse. He’s the best lay I’ve ever had by far.”

Nadia smirked. “He is good. And pretty, too.”

I couldn’t help but smirk back. Sounded like “handler” Damon George was going to have his hands full keeping a rein on these two frisky fillies. “Thank you for talking with me.”

“You’re welcome!” Juney jumped up and gave me a kiss on the cheek before stepping back to put her blazer back on. “I hope we’ll see you there. You’ll see. It’s a blast. If you’ve got any masochistic or submissive tendencies at all, it’s the best.”

Nadia stood and patted me on the arm. “And of course, you’ll keep this all private. Strictly.”

“Of course.”

“Let’s exchange phone numbers, in case you want to call us with any other questions,” Juney said, jotting hers down on a piece of paper. Nadia added her number as well.

I hesitated for a moment. I’d never given the “James phone” number to anyone before. But it was the phone I had to rely on here. I wrote the number down, tore it off, and gave it to them.

They hurried to the front of the café, where I saw Damon standing. He paid the cashier, and all three of them waved to me as they went out the door.

I thought, well, that was quite a different evening than I’d expected. I walked around a little, looking at the sights while I went in the direction I thought the Underground was. I ended up browsing in a bookshop, then meandering along the edge of a park where a band was playing.

I had just come to the Underground when my phone rang from an unknown number.

My immediate thought was: James?

“Hello?”

Surprisingly, it was Damon George. One of the girls must have given him my number. “Where are you, Karina? Do you need a ride?”

“I can find my own way home, thanks,” I said. “Are you done with Nadia and Juney already?”

“Ha. It’s been well over an hour, more than enough to finish their night’s lesson. Let me come get you in the car.”

“Damon, my mother always told me not to get in cars with strange men.”

“Even if I promise I won’t touch you?”

He couldn’t have known that saying so would send goose bumps all over my arms and across my neck, as I thought about the things James could do to me without ever touching me. “I said ‘no,’ Damon.”

“Ahem. Actually, Karina, you didn’t say no. You said your mother told you not to get into cars.”

“You’re maddening! All right. I
meant
no, then. And I’m saying it now.” I looked around the street, wondering if he knew where I was, if he was nearby. But he wasn’t James, and that sort of thing happened 
only 
with him.

“Okay. I understand. I do want to talk to you about my offer, though.”

“Your girls convinced me. I’ll call the number on the card you gave me.”

“All right. I think I can help you, Karina.”

“Help me pass the audition, you mean?”

“No. I mean help you understand your interest in dominance and submission.”

“Well, if I pass the audition, you’ll have plenty of chances for that.”

“True. All right, Karina, if you’re
really
not interested in talking, hang up on me now.”

“I will! Ahhh!” He was so infuriating! If I didn’t hang up, that meant I kept talking to him, and if I did hang up, it was like I was following his orders. I hung up and resisted the urge to throw the phone at the ground.

The truth was I did want to talk about it with someone who understood it all.
But not him,
I told myself.
Not like that!

I went back to the ArtiWorks, alternately fuming about Damon and trying to imagine what the audition for the secret society would be like. Michel was nowhere to be seen, and Paulina was in her studio. I could hear her singing along to some music while she worked. I went to my room rather than disturb her.

I meant to spend some time working on the books, but the moment I got in I set up my laptop on my bed and took the envelope of photos out of my purse.

I was searching for information on the Internet about UK postal codes when Becky popped up in the video chat window.

“Hey, Becks!”

“Hey, Rina! How’s it going so far? I got your e-mail! Are you at Misha and Paul’s right now?”

“I am. And I think I have some leads, too.”

“Oooh, like what? The postmark thing?”

“That’s one. Here’s the envelope he sent.” I held it up so she could see it. “I don’t know yet what—”

She leaned close to the screen, and it looked like she was writing something down. “I’ll look right now.”

“Okay, Watson,” I joked. “But there’s more.”

“I’m all ears, Sherlock.”

“Ha. So, remember when you were telling me Renault was drunk and ranting about something called the Crimson Glove Society? I met a man tonight who had a red glove in his pocket.”

“Is that unusual?”

“A single glove, satin, and oh, by the way, he had two female sex slaves following him around the museum? Yeah, I’d say it was unusual.”

“At the museum!”

“He was the big-money donor who got a private tour. Anyway, he sort of flashed the glove and then handed me a business card. Next thing I know, I’m invited to a sex slave job interview.”