The Plume: The First Anthology (13 page)

Joanna couldn’t believe it. Could she go out with Mike on a date, having learned what she had about herself? “Um, I can’t tomorrow night.”

“Sunday then. Aren’t you on vacation next week?”

“Yes, but I have plans. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“Going anywhere interesting?”

The question completely flustered Joanna. She wasn’t a good liar, and hadn’t expected this.

Mike watched her, his smile fading. “Or are you politely declining?”

“No, no! I’d love to have dinner with you. Maybe after I get back.”

“But you’re not sure,” Mike said, his gaze serious. “Where are you going anyway?”

Joanna stared at him, unable to think of a word to say, then looked at her watch pointedly. “Excuse me, I’d better go. I’ve got to get those revisions in before the end of the day.” She turned away from him, practically racing to her desk, then glanced back. “Thanks. I’d really like to do that when I get home.”

“Sure,” Mike said, his tone skeptical. If anything, he looked annoyed. “Have a good vacation, Joanna. I’ll see you when you get back.” He strode away from her then, leaving her feeling rude and a bit lost.

Caught between what she’d always known she wanted and what she was learning she wanted.

And yearning for more than the Master.

* * *

Joanna arrived home in a miserable mood.

Her mouth dropped open when she saw the envelope with no return address in her mailbox. She tore it open right in the lobby. All it said was:

Tomorrow

3 PM

It was happening! She was going to the Dungeon! Joanna jammed the card back into the envelope, clutching it as she tried to act as if nothing momentous had happened.

Maybe, after she got this out of her system, she’d be ready to date Mike on her return. Maybe everything could come together. Maybe she’d discover that all this bondage and captivity wasn’t really for her, that it had just been the first taste that was tantalizing.

Either way, tomorrow afternoon, Joanna would be ready.

* * *

Rex was deliberately five minutes late for his meeting with Mike.

He stepped into the bar and scanned the crowd. He recognized Mike right away, even though they hadn’t seen each other for a couple of years. His old friend – lover, slave, partner – sat at the bar, drumming his fingers with impatience. An empty glass was in front of him and his lips were tight.

Rex lingered in the shadows by the door, appreciating that Mike had continued to work out and take care of himself. Mike had always been good-looking, a truly prime male specimen, but it was his character that made him so sexy. There had never been another member of the Plume who’d been so reckless and daring, always pushing the edge a little bit more, always ready to try something new. That cavalier sense of adventure had made Mike irresistible to many.

Rex had missed him.

They’d argued when Mike had left the Plume. Mike had been sure the Plume was consuming him, turning him into something other than what he was. Rex knew that the Plume’s rituals and games were revealing the truth of Mike’s nature. He’d been hoping and waiting for this contact ever since Mike had left. Rex was glad his friend had realized that his inclinations couldn’t be denied.

Rex raised a hand as he stepped forward and Mike straightened right away. They shook hands as they exchanged greetings, Mike’s gaze searching, then Mike indicated a booth at the back. He was nervous, Rex saw as much immediately, and wondered at that.

Mike had to know that Rex would only be too glad to have him back at the Plume.

Maybe Mike wanted something else. Something more. His agitation made Rex conclude it was something Rex should deny him.

Rex was intrigued. They sat down together, and Rex ordered a single malt Scotch. Mike indicated he’d have the same, his indifference over the choice supporting Rex’s conclusions.

“You want something,” Rex said when their drinks had arrived.

Mike nodded and shoved his hand through his hair, avoiding Rex’s gaze. “I want to come back.”

“You know that’s not a problem. You’ve always been welcome to return.”

“Not in the general membership. I want to come back for a specific reason.”

Rex sipped his drink and waited.

“You know about that reporter, the one I work with, the one who applied and wrote that story.”

“Of course.” Rex spoke calmly even as his gut clenched.
Joanna
. Mike wanted to come back for Joanna. Because of Joanna.

But Joanna was
his
. Anger flickered to life within Rex. Joanna was surrendering to him; she was his possession and would be his captive. Mike had no business trying to interfere in that relationship.

Aware that his old friend was watching his reaction, Rex sipped his drink as if indifferent. “What about her? The story’s done. It wasn’t bad.”

“It’s not over,” Mike insisted. “Something’s different about Joanna. She wrote that story, but she’s not satisfied with it. I know it. I see it in her at work.”

“You work closely with her then.” Rex was careful to sound neutral.

“She’s ambitious. She’s always got to be in control. But she didn’t even care that the managing editor made her use a pseudonym on the story.” Mike looked at Rex and repeated his words, his tone hard. “She didn’t care.”

“Maybe she wanted to protect her privacy.”

Mike shook his head, threw back his Scotch. “No. Now she’s taking vacation. She never takes vacation! She’s going to the Plume, isn’t she?”

“Is she?”

Mike’s eyes flashed, as angry as Rex had ever seen him. “Don’t shit me, Rex. We go back. I know how Joanna is. I know how driven and ambitious she is. Her story showed that she was never really inside the Plume, and I know her well enough to understand that she’s never going to be satisfied with that. You know it, too.”

Rex said nothing. He was the secret-keeper of the Plume, and he would never betray any member or applicant.

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” Mike asked, resentment but no real surprise in his tone. “All right, then listen to me. She doesn’t know what she’s getting into. I think she could get hurt.”

“No one gets hurt,” Rex interjected, his tone silky but hard. “Those are the rules.”

“
Emotionally
hurt,” Mike corrected. He looked Rex in the eye. “I want to be the one to show her what it’s like. I want you to arrange that.”

With another slave, Rex might have found the protectiveness admirable. In this particular case, he resented both it and the implication that he wouldn’t ensure Joanna’s safety himself. Of course, Mike didn’t know that Rex had taken command of her training, but Rex oversaw everything and everyone in the Plume.

Mike should have trusted him.

Maybe he would have, if he hadn’t been infatuated with Joanna.

Perhaps just as infatuated as Rex was.

“You want to come back to offer your version of the guided tour,” Rex guessed.

Mike nodded. “And you’re the only one who can make it happen. So I’m asking. Do me this one favor, Rex? For old times?”

Rex finished his drink, pushing the empty glass across the table. “No.”

“What do you mean?” Mike nearly erupted from his seat. He was magnificent when he was angry, his eyes blazing and his hair tousled. Rex wanted to strip down, smear oil all over his sculpted body and wrestle it out. He wanted to take this dispute to the Plume and have it out before the members, let the most dominant man win.

It would be like old times.

But Mike didn’t want him, didn’t want to wrestle, didn’t really want the Plume.

And that pissed Rex off.

“I won’t do it.” He held up a finger when Mike would have protested. He spoke precisely, as good a sign that he was angry as any. “It violates the rules. The rules exist for a reason, for the defense of the members as well as the integrity of the club. I will not break the rules, even for you.”

“But…”

Rex knew Mike wasn’t going to let this go easily, so he increased the stakes, believing that would keep him away. “You can come back, but you must surrender all over again. You must begin at the beginning one more time.” He thought about teaching Mike the realities of submission. He thought about dominating one of the greatest and most dominant lovers he’d ever had, and the prospect made him hard and ready.

Mike looked across the bar, dissatisfied with this reply, fingers tapping. “So, I’d be a new recruit, like her.” His expression lit with hope. “I’d see her in training. I could watch out for her from the slave side.” He actually thought Rex was offering him a viable alternative.

In reality, Rex would ensure Mike and Joanna never glimpsed each other. She was his. He shrugged, agreeing to and admitting of nothing.

Mike studied him. “That’s the best you can offer me?”

Rex smiled.

Mike downed the rest of his drink, still unhappy. He set the glass down with force. “All right. I’ll do it. I’m in for two weeks, the same two weeks as Joanna.”

“Now, then.”

“Yeah, now. I’ll have to email my boss, say I’ve got a family emergency or something. I’ll have it arranged by tomorrow.”

His determination didn’t improve Rex’s mood.

“Athena will be pleased,” Rex said, keeping his tone mild. “She’s been missing you.”

“I’m only staying as long as Joanna does,” Mike insisted. “Don’t start thinking that I’m coming back for good.”

Rex didn’t believe it. There were people who blossomed in the BDSM culture of the Plume and Mike had always been one of them. He needed the club’s rituals and pleasures, just the way he needed air to breathe. Rex was sure it wouldn’t take long for his old friend to realize that he should never have left.

And he’d forget Joanna when he was under Athena’s hand. His partner, Athena, never allowed any competition for herself in the thoughts and dreams of her captives.

“I’ll send the paperwork,” Rex said, pushing to his feet. “Good to see you again.” He shook hands with Mike and left, that new jealousy simmering within him.

Mike would never see Joanna at the Plume.

After all, she had surrendered to the Dungeon, to be personally trained by Rex.

He couldn’t wait to begin.

* * *

On Saturday at three, Joanna was ready. She wore only her raincoat and boots, and was titillated by the fact that she was nude under her coat. She had the keys to her apartment in her apartment, but nothing else. She adjusted the scarf around her neck in the foyer of her apartment, fiddling as she waited for the limousine to arrive.

Rafael was right on time.

She saw the black limo out the window and headed downstairs, trying to walk sedately instead of run toward her fantasy. Rafael opened the door for her, just as always, and she imagined that he winked at her from behind his sunglasses.

There was no one else in the car.

She folded her hands in her lap, uncertain what would happen, feeling her heart flutter. It seemed louder in the silence of the car. She halfway expected that Rafael would demand that she expose herself to him, as he had once before, but he kept the glass division raised between them and focused on his driving.

Like she was off-limits.

Maybe because she’d been claimed by the Master.

Joanna swallowed in anticipation. She was wet already, a slick heat gathering against her sex. Her toes were curling in her boots and her palms were damp.

She
wanted
.

Rafael drove through downtown, then headed toward the warehouses and abandoned factories at the docks. Joanna was glad it was daylight, because the area got progressively more disreputable in appearance.

Rafael drove toward the loading dock of a factory that seemed to be abandoned and stopped the car. There were three large corrugated metal doors on the loading dock, three bays presumably for trucks. All of the doors needed repainting. The building was old, build of red brick like its neighbors, and with large windows. But the windows on this building weren’t broken, and in fact, had all been replaced with glass blocks. When Joanna really looked at it, it was in far better shape than the others surrounding it.

Was this the Dungeon?

If so, Joanna was surprised that she was allowed to see its location.

Rafael pointed a garage door opener at one door, and it slid upward, revealing a truck loading dock. He drove in, parking at the end, shutting the door behind them and sealing them into the building. There was a black windowless van parked in the next bay, but no other people. Rafael opened the door of the limo and Joanna got out, looking around with some caution.

Why would they let her see the location of the Dungeon?

They wouldn’t. The Master was too smart to make a mistake like that. After all, he was always masked and she was usually blindfolded. This couldn’t be the Dungeon. She turned, but Rafael was walking around the limo, returning to the driver’s seat. He halted when he saw her, as if surprised that she was still there.

“Well, go in,” he said, as if it was obvious what she should do.

The loading dock was high, designed to meet the floor of a tractor trailer. There was a flight of concrete stairs to the right, with a rusted railing. Joanna climbed the stairs and peeked into the massive space of the factory. It was filled with dancing dust motes and rays of sunlight fractured by the glass block windows. Rusted hulks of nameless equipment gathered dust on every side and the floor was concrete for as far as she could see.

“Hurry up, Joanna,” a man said from far inside the space, his words echoing slightly. Even at a distance, Joanna recognized the Master’s voice. Her nipples tightened at the sound of his voice and her sex began to throb.

This was it. She stepped into the factory, aiming for the source of his voice. She heard the loading dock door open again and the limo back out, Rafael leaving her with the Master.

Her heart was pounding so loudly that she was sure he must be able to hear it.

She got to what might have been the middle of the floor, or at least was a kind of crossroads. She looked to the right and there was the silhouette of a man in black. He stood with his arms folded across his chest and she knew he was watching her.