Eighty Days Blue (6 page)

For a moment, he was tempted to enter the woods by Jack Straw's Castle's car park, an area notorious as a gay cruising ground. He had an irrational desire to explore what it meant to be penetrated, used, as if it would help him better understand the women he fucked. Crazy! He stepped
one
way, then another, hesitated and finally walked slowly towards home.

Dominik didn't reach the stone steps leading to his door until well past midnight. He could have hailed another taxi, but the walk had calmed his nerves.

A week later, he hooked up with one of his former students, Claudia, and broke all contact with the group. Or maybe it was the other way round and they no longer invited him to attend their somewhat particular events.

The sex with Claudia was good, uncomplicated, healthy in a vigorous way. She accepted his needs, the control he sought, welcoming the variations, the kinks, somehow never questioned them, and for some time he thought he had conquered his dark side, put a brake on his deeper, irrational cravings. Dominik knew, though, there was something missing . . . until he had come across Summer playing her battered violin in the Tube station and the fire inside him had been set ablaze again.

‘So how well do you know Summer? And Victor?' asked Dominik, as Lauralynn sat down on the blanket she had brought along and spread out on the grass in Regent's Park.

She'd suggested a picnic and the weather, according to the forecasters, was going to be warm this weekend, a final hiccup of clement sun before the threat of autumn. How quickly the seasons turned, he reflected, making him think of the Vivaldi piece. Almost a year since that fateful afternoon when he'd ventured into Tottenham Court Road Tube and heard the intoxicating music of a violin coming
from
along the corridor and had within seconds come under the dazzling spell of Summer and her violin-playing and the way she looked when she played.

‘Victor has been an acquaintance, a sort of partner in crime, for some years. We met at a party and he offered to help me set up some scenes. He recognised that streak of aggression in me, I guess. He's a dangerous man, you know. He uses people. There's a powerful core of vindictiveness in him . . . But he is well connected. And experienced.'

‘And Summer?'

‘Only the once after the special concert in the crypt when you had her play naked. I found her – how can I put it? – interesting.'

‘You and her?' Dominik enquired. ‘Anything happen?'

‘Sadly, no,' Lauralynn confessed. ‘I don't think she's that way inclined. Maybe some no-strings play, but nothing serious. I know her type, though. Like a moth attracted by the flame. Also dangerous. She thinks she's in control, but is sometimes quite mistaken. She can't see the forest for the trees and doesn't realise what is motivating her. Hasn't quite yet reconciled herself with her cravings. She thinks she is modern and assertive, but it's so easy to lie to oneself. Isn't it, Dominik?'

Once again the malice in her eyes was both overt and complicit.

She took two plastic cups and carefully poured out coffee from the thermos flask she had carried along with her to the park in a wicker basket. Dominik had brought the sandwiches. A stone's throw away from where they were sitting, along the road that bisected the park, files of noisy kids were being led towards the nearby zoo.

‘What happened? When she met up with you?'

‘We played. I summoned one of my playthings, a sub, a guy. I think she enjoyed it, opened her eyes to some new variations.'

‘I see.'

‘But as I said, I know her sort. I've come across others like her before. They are their own worst enemy. Left to their own devices, they have a talent for getting drawn in by all sorts of temptations. Their pride leads them by the nose.'

‘Really?' Dominik remarked, partly annoyed at the way Lauralynn was articulating feelings about Summer's psychological make-up he was still confusingly attempting to get to grips with himself.

She took a bite from an egg mayonnaise and cress sandwich.

‘If you're so attached to her,' Lauralynn pointed out, ‘I wouldn't leave her at a loose end in New York, or for that matter anywhere. You'll lose her.'

‘Victor?'

‘Possibly. But he's not the only wolf in the pack. She is just the sort of sub some of our kind would take a shine to, would want to break.'

‘Break?'

‘Her spirit. She's strong, I grant you that, but no one is immune to certain pressures. I get the feeling Summer is pretty relaxed about the way she uses or allows her body to be used, so the alphas will go straight for her mind. That's where they will try and bend her to their will. And once broken, you can never put the pieces together again. She doesn't realise, I don't think, that beyond a certain point, there is no return.'

‘Very melodramatic, Lauralynn.'

‘Maybe . . . But domination comes in many colours,
Dominik
. For some, it's the exercise of power. For others, it's merely a game—'

He interrupted her, wishing to make his case. ‘I'm not concerned by power, and I reckon with Summer it's more than just a game. I want her to be strong. I have no wish to break her, as you put it. I want to see her grow, assume her nature. That's what gives me pleasure, not the control. The acceptance of her feelings . . .'

‘Dangerous ground, Dominik. Some would use a pesky four-letter-word for all that.'

‘And you?' he asked. ‘With those you play with, control, whatever, what is it you seek?'

‘It's a game of wills. Sometimes a cruel game, but a game all the same. See, I thought we were in the same camp, but there is a softness in you, Dominik. I see that now. Most admirable. It's not just your cock leading you.'

‘I'd very much hope not. Although neither would I want it to be overly neglected.' He smiled.

‘Whatever happens, Dominik, I'd like us to be friends, you know.'

‘That would be nice.'

‘With Victor, it was always about the next target; he was relentless. At first, I'd find it amusing, but he has an evil streak, a deep-seated desire to bend his subs, his slaves to his will. Beware.'

‘I will,' Dominik said.

He had been trying to contact Summer in New York for a few days now, but her phone kept on going to voicemail on every occasion, whatever the time of day over in Manhattan, and he was beginning to worry slightly. She had promised to keep him informed of any adventures there,
but
so far the news had been pretty prosaic and uninvolving. Incomplete?

‘I'm having a small party tomorrow with a couple of my playthings, but was thinking of opening it up. Would you be interested in attending? Watching, maybe?' Lauralynn asked him.

‘Wouldn't your . . . acolytes object to a stranger being present?' he queried.

‘Not at all. They know how to serve and do as they're told. Though I guess you're not into using guys, are you? A step too far?'

‘No,' Dominik confirmed, hiding the fact from Lauralynn that he had given thought to switching, being on the receiving end in order to better understand what it might feel like to be a submissive, rather than out of taste. According to BDSM lore, many doms had supposedly done their time as subs. It helped them understand the dynamic better. The problem was just that he was not attracted to men. Fascinated by their cocks, yes, but not by their faces or personalities. So watching would have been interesting, educational even, but somehow he knew he was not quite ready for this.

‘Maybe not this time,' he responded, mindfully not rejecting a future occasion. Right now, his thoughts were of Summer and the bubbling maelstrom of lustful intentions she drew to the surface of his imagination.

‘Pity,' Lauralynn said. ‘It would have been nice to have some new company. I could teach you a lot,' she continued.

‘No doubt you could.'

‘My gut feeling tells me that you're not much of a man for toys, are you?'

‘Your instinct serves you right,' Dominik said.

‘Victor is,' Lauralynn remarked. ‘A hell of a lot. Loves his spreader bars, he does. I find that they work well with girls, but guys somehow always get cramps. Most men, that is. Some of them, especially the gay ones, will take anything and more. I don't come across many of them in my business, though; they keep to themselves and their own rituals, I guess,' she added as an afterthought, and Dominik felt there was a note of regret in her voice when she revealed this.

The midday sun was rising above them, with just the flutter of a breeze animating the greenery in the surrounding trees. Lauralynn brushed a breadcrumb from the corner of her mouth.

‘Isn't this beautiful?' she said to Dominik, glancing at the sun. He'd taken his linen jacket off. ‘Probably the last warm day we're going to have this year. London, eh? I just love the sun.'

He smiled at her.

Her blonde hair unfurled all the way across her shoulders. She stretched, sat up for a moment and in one swift movement pulled off her tight print blouse. She was braless beneath it. His eyes went to her delicately pierced nipples and the exquisite shade of pink they wantonly displayed and then to a blue tattoo, an ideogram in Chinese calligraphy on her left shoulder. She rolled over onto her stomach, kicked off the faded denim hot pants she had been wearing and began sunbathing in just her thong. The mountains of her arse were like a geometric symphony delineating a perfect curve with mathematical precision. The line of the elastic was ever so askew, indicating from her overall tan that she was quite accustomed to sunbathing in the nude.

Male passers-by began to slow down to catch a longer
sight
of her as they ambled along the path nearest to the grass, while assorted families spread along the park's lawn threw them angry looks. There was something eminently provocative about the way she just lay there, her bare back and arse cheeks being roasted by the sun.

She was shameless, and she knew it.

Spread like this, legs exaggeratedly apart, in a public park, she would from a distance have onlookers believing she was stark naked.

Before she had turned onto her stomach, Dominik had noticed how the flimsy material of the thong clung to her skin and how the deep cleft of her cunt was visible through it.

He liked Lauralynn and thought they could, given the chance, turn out to be really good friends.

He took off his shirt, his turn to catch the last sun of the year.

Soon, they were both dozing in the arms of the lazy autumn heat.

Dominik dreamed of Summer, though, not Lauralynn.

3

The Romance of Ropes

Shadows had begun to fall across the small enclosed garden outside my even smaller window in the East Village apartment, and the remaining light barely illuminated my body in the mirror so that with the corset on, I had an almost mummified appearance, like a strange woman in a Victorian cabaret show.

The garment bit into my skin with all the hard comfort of a steel embrace.

I loosened the laces at the back and leaned forward, carefully unclipping the row of metal hoops from the studs that held the construction together at the front. The boning had left an interesting set of marks on my torso, an art deco effect of symmetrical grooves running parallel round my waist and up to my breasts, vivid red against pale white.

My flatmates and I had just returned from performing a free open-air gig in Union Square, part of a month-long series of informal events celebrating American composers in advance of the upcoming Thanksgiving celebration. It was early November and the sun was beginning to sink earlier from the sky, its absence heralding the arrival of a sharp autumnal chill. We were heading out shortly to one of the rooftop bars in Midtown, to make the most of the evening air before winter brushed her cold hands over the city and
banished
all but the most determined cigarette smokers indoors.

I had performed while laced tightly into the black under-bust corset that Dominik had bought for me and instructed me to wear to one of Charlotte's parties in London, which kept my chest, as well as other parts of me, warm beneath the thin black knitted shift dress that I wore on top.

It seemed like a lifetime ago now, one of my first experiments in kink, when I had dressed and served as a maid for the evening in an attempt to discover how I felt in a submissive role when following the orders of those other than Dominik.

My behaviour had been impossible to analyse after the event, because clothed in the outfit and attending to the ring of the bell that he had provided for the guests to summon me, I'd felt as though I was following his instructions rather than those of the individuals who had asked for another portion of dessert or a glass refilled.

I missed him terribly, more than I had ever expected, and more than I would ever admit to him. Our communication since he had left had been brief, sporadic. The sound of his voice filled me with such longing that I began to leave my phone switched to voicemail most of the time, so I wouldn't have to face speaking to him.

Dominik had not ordered me to wear the corset beneath my clothes at this afternoon's gig. I had chosen to do so of my own accord, in an effort to recreate the sensation of dominance that I missed so much.

I tried to take advantage of the extra emotion that arose as a result of his absence by throwing my energy into my music, channelling grief and frustration into my violin like a lightning rod, though inevitably, some of the loneliness
lingered
, and my thoughts were filled with memories of the scenes that Dominik had created in London and fantasies of all the things that I wanted him to do to me. I became irritable and withdrawn, annoyed by the intensity of my own feelings.

I had tried emailing Charlotte for her advice, but she'd either mysteriously vanished or was ignoring me. Chris had completed his short tour with the band in America and had returned to London. He had no plans to visit New York again anytime soon, and besides that, he wasn't keen on Dominik, so I hadn't confided in him. I'd spoken to old friends in New Zealand over Skype, but they were settling down now with office jobs and long-term partners. My life was so different, with the orchestra, New York, Dominik, that I felt at odds with them as well.