Controlled by His Voice Box Set (Erotic Romance) (20 page)

"Oh, sure," I said.

Tristan got up. Isabella did too. She showered me with her thousand-watt smile as she followed him into his office. She also seemed perfectly comfortable naked, almost as if clothing was a hindrance for her.

Once the door shut, I got up and walked around. I was too wired up to sit. Plus, I hate knowing they're in there together.

I put my clothes back on. Not sure why. Something wasn't right.

In a few minutes they were back. Isabella did her glittering smile thing and sat down again. Tristan motioned for me to follow.

I grabbed my purse, got up and walked with him into his office. I felt Isabella watching me as I walked out of the lounge.

In the office the vista was magical today, the late winter sun making the sky and rocky shore bright with the promise of spring. I closed the door and sat down facing Tristan across the long table, remembering the wet mess I once created on it.

"Thank you for helping out, Meghan," he said. "This is amazing."

"Amazing?" I said, my heart fluttering.

"Yes, I think she's made a breakthrough."

She? She?! Can't you see
I'm
here? Open your eyes, asshole!

"Meghan", he said, "you make a great assistant. I'd like to make you an offer."

"An offer?" I said.

"I think we could have some fun together doing this full-time."

"Doing what full-time?"

"Submissive training. Kink training. Sexual fulfillment training. Bringing girls in and showing them things."

What the fuck is he asking me?

I heard a clamoring noise in my head. Like somebody trying to escape from a cage.

"So you want me to become a dominatrix?" I said.

"No, of course no. I mean you could just be my assistant, like today. I'd pay you well. How is $100,000 a year?"

The clamoring noise in my head was getting louder. A chain snapped somewhere. I swear I heard it.

Oh shit, I know that snap. My inner bitch just broke loose.

Calm, Meghan, calm. Remember your mission.

"How did you know I'd be here today?" I said.

He templed his hands. "I knew," he said with a knowing smile.

Remember your mission, Meghan. Remain calm.

"It would be fun, Meghan. You could work for me, help these girls, make a lot of money and... well... we could be together while doing so."

Meghan, remember the mission.

Fuck the mission!

"Fuck you!" I said.

Shit, my inner bitch is out. Everybody run.

"Take your fucking job offer and shove it, you asshole!" I said. "No, I don't want to be your fucking $100,000-a-year whore assistant. I am a meteorologist. I study the weather. And I'm damned good at it too. I'm smart. I'm not some bimbo assistant to some billionaire unlicensed sex therapist with impotence issues."

"Wow!" he said, laughing.

"You think this is funny?" I stood up. "You think the fact that I waited outside your door three weeks in a row freezing my ass off is fucking funny? Do you have any clue how I feel about you? Seriously? Do you? And now you make this ludicrous offer to me? Go fuck yourself! I'm smarter than this. I'm better than this! I have a fucking life. You might try getting one sometime. You're not the end-all be-all of my existence!"

He laughed again.

"What the fuck are you laughing at?"

"You're amazing, Meghan," he said. "You're two different girls in one body. One is a happy submissive who likes to follow orders. The other is a take-no-prisoners world leader with a truck driver's vocabulary."

He's right. But I'm afraid my inner bitch isn't done quite yet.

"Yes," I said, "and while we're on the subject, you're two different men. On one hand, you're a creepy clinical researcher who detaches himself from the sex lives of his students. Cold and distant, you're like an android with a forever-hard penis that can't seem to finish the job. But at the same time, you're a normal feeling human being who has never learned how to control his emotions. So to make up for it, you keep everything inside. You convince yourself that you're helping others with this submission fucking training but in the end you're only using your money and power to create elaborate 3D porn scenes."

I turned to the door. My inner bitch says we're going.

"You know, I just fucking realized something," I said and turned back to him with my hand on the doorknob. "I deserve better.
I deserve better than you!
You may be powerful and rich with a big cock, but you are a tiny tiny man. And just because you make me melt with your eyes... just because you can make me come with your voice... and just because you've touched a place inside me that no man has ever reached... doesn't mean I'm your life-sized doll with three pre-fabricated holes who's going to put up with your bullshit!"

"Meghan," he said, leaning forward with his head in his hands, "I tried telling you but you wouldn't listen. I still have a long road to go before I can be normal again."

"Yeah, well that's not fucking good enough for me! I was hoping you could have shared the journey with me because I can help you break through whatever it is that's holding you back.... help you move past whatever it is they did to you. It would be... what's the word?... Redemptive! Not to mention goddamned fun. But you know what? I'm wasting my fucking time. You won't let me in."

"No, that's not true, Meghan. I've shared more with you than anyone else I've ever known. I wanted you. I
want...
you. I just... I'm... afraid..."

"Afraid? Awwww... the big bad billionaire is afraid of the emotions a little girl stirs up in him. I don't buy it, pal! It's the oldest goddamned story in the world. We've come all this way and we're back to the oldest fucking story ever written... afraid of your own goddamned emotions."

"Meghan, I told you about my experience. I have been working with a therapist for a year or so. That was a big step for me. I usually don't allow people into my head. It was him that came up with the entire submission training program hoping it would help free me from my own demons. Then I met you and..."

"And what?"

"... everything changed. I felt more than I was ready to feel."

I just stood there staring at him. He was being sincere, and I loved the fact he is finally admitting he has feelings for me. But I can't go on like this.

"Not good enough," I said. "Sorry about your problems, but I need someone who isn't afraid to man up. Not someone who hides behind
Submission training
ads. Goodbye, Tristan."

I walked out of the office toward the front door. He didn't say anything nor try to stop me.

Before I got there, a tall naked bouncy girl with milky amber skin ran up to me and shoved a note in my hand. I looked at it. It was her phone number.

"Call me," Isabella whispered with a big smile.

I just smiled back, opened the big oak door, and slammed it shut.

I marched to my car and confidently got in. I made it to Route 128 before losing it. Then I cried all the way home.

The door opened and a blast of cold air filled the dive bar. Winter was back, even though the pub was packed with revelers and decked out in green shamrocks.

Nikki looked around and saw me sitting at a booth in front facing Boylston Street. Today she was resplendent in a gray patterned suit with a tight skirt, black stockings and shoes, and another black leather jacket. Around her neck hung a necklace made of black globes. As she sat down, I noticed her fingernails were painted white.

"Thanks for meeting me," I said.

"No problem," said Nikki. "I'm glad you came to me."

The red-headed waitress arrived a half-second later and said, "Hello then, I'm Siobhan. Can I get you something to drink then?"

As she took off her jacket, Nikki looked at my almost-empty glass and said, "I'll have one of those. Guinness?"

"Yep," I said as I slurped the last of it down. "My heritage." I didn't mention how many I had already. I may have said
hertage.

"Grand," said the waitress. "Would you like a lunch menu then?"

"Oh, no thanks," said Nikki. "Unless you..."

"No," I said. "I'll have another one of these, though."

"Grand," said the waitress with a squinty-eyed look. "I'll be right back then."

Once she was gone I leaned over toward Nikki.

"Did you see the squinty-eyed look she gave me?" I said. "No need for that. It's fucking St. Patrick's Day, bi-atch!"

"You're funny," Nikki said with a laugh. "Dan warned me about your potty mouth when you've been drinking."

"Fuck no, I talk like that when I'm stone cold sober... which has been a while ago. Oh shit, that's not proper English, is it? Oh, fuck it."

Nikki laughed a big laugh.

"Fuck it!" she said.

The waitress returned with our drinks. I tried giving her a squinty-eyed look but she was gone before I had a chance. Not that I could pull it off in the state I was in anyway.

Nikki held up her glass. I clinked it with mine.

"Cheers," she said and drank.

"Sláinte," I said and drank.

I stared at her for a second and thought of Dan.

"I have to say," I said, "I love Dan and I'm so happy he's found you. I think you're the greatest thing to happen to him since... well, ever."

"Thank you", she said with a big smile. "Dan is... wonderful."

I didn't like that pause between
is
and
wonderful.

"So," said Nikki, "I was able to do a Lexis-Nexis search using my credentials as a newspaper reporter for my hometown paper. Soon I'll be getting some from Channel 5. That's the game plan anyway."

I had asked Nikki to do some digging on Tristan's past before the incident with Isabella. But now I realize maybe it wasn't such a great idea.

"I have no doubt you'll be on the air reporting live soon," I said.

"That's the plan, sister," said Nikki, "that's the plan. Just as long as they don't send me to Revere Beach during a snowstorm." We both laughed. "Then I did an EBSCO search as well as local police and county records."

"See, I knew you were the right person to ask. I don't know what any of that is."

"I found some clippings from 1984 that may pertain to the case you're interested in."

My heart fluttered. I gulped some Guinness. Half of another one gone.

"It's odd," I said. "I'm trying not to be interested. In fact, I may have ended my relationship with him completely. In fact... now that I think about it... yes... our relationship is over."

Nikki's big brown eyes met mine. She looked a little like Isabella, only darker. I felt a throb in my pussy. Knowing there was an eight-inch cock in that skirt gave it another throb.

God, I've become a fucking manic horndog, haven't I?

"You're referring to your relationship with this Tristan Sladzcyk, right?" she said.

I coughed.

"Yes," I said. "Tristan."

"How did you two meet?"

"Dan didn't tell you?"

"No."

"Good old Dan. True and blue. I met Tristan by... uh... replying to a personal ad for submission training."

"Oh my god! No way. Like
Fifty Shades
of Grey
? That kind of submission?"

"Not quite like that at all. This was more kink than anything else. But I made the... uh... mistake... of falling for him. And now I'm pretty sure it's over."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

Nikki put her hand on mine and tilted her head. Another pussy rush.

Stop it, Meghan! This is your best friend's girlfriend.

Nikki opened up her bag and took out a manila folder. I was afraid of what was going to be in there. I folded my arms and put my hand up to my chin.

Maybe I don't really want to know what's in that folder. After all, it's over with Tristan. I ended it. There was nothing left to say or know.

"So I found this," Nikki said as she pulled out a printout of a newspaper clipping and handed it to me. It was from
The Daily Standard
of Celina, Ohio:
MISSING BOY FOUND AND RESCUED

Celina, Ohio - October 8, 1984. Two people have been arrested on the charge of kidnapping an 8-year old boy twelve days ago. The boy was rescued and returned to his parents Ralph and Louisa Sladzcyk of Elgin, Ohio.

Morton Parmentier, 48, and his live-in girlfriend Jeannie Van Wyck, 42, of Denton Road, are charged with kidnapping a minor. Their daughter, an 8-year old classmate of the boy, is now in state protective custody.

I gulped. I felt a tear rush down my cheek.

"Are you okay?" said Nikki.

"Yes," I said as I fumbled for a tissue. "I'm fine." I blew my nose and took another sip of Guinness. Almost empty again.

There were two photographs of the kidnappers, obviously mugshots taken after they were booked. They both looked like ordinary nice people.

Bastards! I hope Tristan made you feel pain before he killed you!
All I could picture was some horrid dirty basement where they did unspeakable things to him. Thank God they only had him for twelve days.

"So their 8-year old daughter was a classmate of Tristan's," I said. "What happened to her?"

"Well," said Nikki, "there were several odd things about this case. According to the file at the county courthouse, the kidnapping charges were eventually dropped and the daughter returned home. It was all some sort of misunderstanding. The girl's parents claimed Tristan told them his parents had died. They told police they were considering adopting Tristan and had even contacted authorities about doing so... and yet, no paperwork was filed and no investigation was ever started."

Something didn't click here. I tried to think.

"That's strange, isn't it?" I said. "Wasn't there a search on for the missing boy? Wouldn't everybody around have known that an 8-year old boy had gone missing?"

"No, that's another odd twist," said Nikki. "Tristan's parents never reported him missing. Then, once it was all over, they didn't want to press any charges against the kidnappers."

I scratched my head, trying to ignore the final sip of Guinness in my glass. Need to think here.

"So," I said, "nobody reports the boy missing. The kidnappers lie and say they were considering adopting the boy but never filed any papers nor never contacted the police to find out where he came from."

"Right."

"And the kidnappers are dead," I said.

"No", said Nikki. "They still live at the same address. I even have their phone number. They're in their seventies now."

That's impossible.

I killed them.

Those were his words. I know he said it. Did he lie to me?

"What made you think they were dead?" said Nikki.

Shit, I shouldn't have said that.

"Nothing," I said. "Just something I heard."

I finished my Guinness, tossing and turning the situation all around in my head.

Then the truth hit me. My mouth flew open and I gripped the table.

"Do his parents still live in Elgin, Ohio?" I said.

"No", said Nikki. "That's another mystery. In 2002, local police arrived at the Sladzcyk home to inquire about some unpaid bills. They found an empty house. It had been abandoned for quite a while apparently. Maybe two to four years."

"What happened to Ralph and Louisa Sladzcyk?"

"Nobody knows. They're listed as missing. Tristan was brought in for questioning but he had been away at college and at that time was living in Silicon Valley working for a company called..."

"Z-Fire."

"Yes, that's right."

"I can't be sure but according to the police interview transcripts, Tristan apparently never visited or spoke to his parents after he went to college."

Oh, shit.

Shit shit shit.

I put my head in my hands.

"Are you all right?" said Nikki.

"I'm fine," I said as the sick reality of it sank in.

Tristan wasn't abused for just twelve days. He was abused for many years.

At the hands of the people who were supposed to love him the most.

Tristan Slade killed his own parents.