The Word Master (18 page)

Chapter 32.

The radio station was deserted – long dark corridors devoid of life or light. Cecily had gone home after the show had ended and April and I sat alone in the studio, by the glow from the blank monitors.

Muted in the background was the soft sound of music that played by relay from the network’s main station in New York, turned down so that it was like a distant ethereal whisper.

April sighed and stared down into her coffee cup for a long time, like maybe the answers to all her questions would be there. They weren’t.

“You’ve met Renata… you have some idea what kind of woman she is, right?” April began.

I nodded. I said nothing.

April smiled wryly. “Well what you saw of her that night is pretty much what you get with Renata. She’s a powerful personality – very upfront, very forthright and confrontational…”

April was watching me with a careful, speculative gaze. She kneaded her fingers, then looked away. When she turned her head back and our eyes met again, she opened her mouth as if to say something more, then impulsively bit her lip.

I could see the turmoil and agitation in her face. She had a hundred questions, but she was trying to sort them out in her head – answering the ones she could and storing up the others until she was ready.

At last she leaned forward, hands clasped together, and rested her forearms on the desktop. Her back was straight, her focus suddenly intense. She licked her lips delicately with the tip of her tongue and her eyes narrowed.

“We’ve separated, Jericho. Renata has moved out.”

I was genuinely shocked. “When?”

April shrugged. “Yesterday.”

“Why?”

That seemed harder for April to answer. For a long time she said nothing. There were unshed tears welling in her eyes. Her face was pale. “The lifestyle… you…”

I sat back like I had been punched hard and felt the wind whistle from my lungs.
“Me?”

April nodded her head like it was a secret she regretted revealing.

“How the hell did I get involved in this?” I frowned. “Was it because of the sub-club segments? I can’t believe Renata was jealous!”

April reached across the desk and put her hand on my arm. She lifted her face and stared me in the eyes. “When Renata took your hands at the apartment and did her psychic reading thing, she saw something she didn’t tell you, Jericho. She saw you and me…
together
.”

“What?”

April nodded. Her face was bleak but very serious. “She told me after you left. She said she could see you and me together – as lovers… or as Master and submissive,” she shrugged as if the definition wasn’t relevant. “She couldn’t get that image out of her mind.”

“But April, that’s ridiculous! I have always been a gentleman when it comes to how you and I relate to each other – you know that! I’ve never been inappropriate or flirted. I’ve never done anything that –”

“I know!” April squeezed my arm with her fingers. “I know, Jericho. And I told Renata that. I told her there was nothing going on between us. I even offered to stop modeling for the sub-club sessions. I even offered to quit working here at the station,” April threw her hands in the air as she explained. She shook her head and a single tear spilled down her cheek. She smudged it away with the tip of her finger.

“It wasn’t just you,” April said. “It was the BDSM too. That wasn’t working out. Renata was too aggressive. Too dominant. She didn’t understand the difference between a submissive and a slave.”

I was still angry – still somehow offended that I had inadvertently been dragged into the demise of April’s relationship. “You could have just gone back to the relationship you both had before the BDSM,” I said hotly. “Or you could have talked more – negotiated what you both wanted to get out of the lifestyle. You didn’t have to break up.”

April was still slowly shaking her head. “We tried that, Jericho,” she said. “We talked and talked through the night. In the end, Renata is not the kind of woman to compromise, and after it was all said and done, I realized suddenly that I wasn’t either. I want to explore submission, and I won’t give that up. It’s not a kink for me – it’s much deeper than that. I need to follow this path wherever it leads me… and I am prepared to do that with or without Renata.” April’s expression became pained. “When I told her that, she started packing her bags. I didn’t stop her.”

For many minutes we sat in silence. April wiped away her tears and sipped pensively at her coffee. I stared at a wall, thoughts tumbling over themselves behind my blank eyes.

“So what do you do now?” I asked finally.

April tried a smile. “Well the apartment is in my name,” she said. “I still have that, and I still have my job. Nothing changes, and I’m not the only girl in Boston who has broken up with a partner. I move on,” she said with more determination than I believed she felt. “And hopefully I find myself a Master – someone more suitable to my needs that I can submit to.”

“You mean Mistress…”

April shook her head. “I’m not so sure about that…” she said softly.

I sat up. “You’re telling me that you’re no longer gay? Just like magic, your sexuality has changed overnight?”

April’s gaze was solemn and serious. “No, I’m still gay,” she said. “In terms of a loving long-lasting relationship my preference is always going to be to share my life with another woman, but a BDSM relationship isn’t like that, is it, Jericho? I mean, you’ve said it yourself. You even said it again on the air tonight.”

“What did I say?” I asked warily.

“You said that BDSM relationships could often be more intense than normal relationships. You said that for a BDSM relationship to work there needs to be a deeper level of trust… and I feel that’s just part of what is required. I feel the submissive woman needs to adore and honor her Master in all ways, not just sexual. That’s why I’m not sure if I need a Master or a Mistress. I feel their sexuality doesn’t matter. If I’m so committed to the person because I want to submit and serve them, then it doesn’t make any difference to the relationship if I end up with a woman or a man… provided that relationship is a BDSM one – not a normal ‘loving’ relationship.”

“Women love their Masters,” I said with a warning. “Despite what they might think going into a BDSM relationship, a lot of women develop very strong feelings for the man they serve.”

“Exactly,” April said. “Feelings so strong that they are for the
person
they submit to, not that person’s sexuality, or gender. It’s intimacy without the tenderness of a traditional loving relationship.”

I said nothing.

Chapter 33.

Before going into work on Friday evening I detoured downtown and booked a room for the following night at ‘The Moncrieff’ hotel, then I went shopping for props.

From the foyer of the radio station I sent Nancy a text message.

Take a taxi to the Moncrieff tomorrow night.

Arrive at 6pm. Room 441.

Bring the list of sex toys I ordered you to purchase.

I was the first to arrive at work. I wandered around the empty halls and considered risking my life with a cup of coffee from the machine. Cecily arrived and saved me.

“Don’t drink that stuff!” she said as she came down the hall. She had a cardboard tray with three Styrofoam cups on it. “These came from a little late-night café I know. Try one.”

I took a cup and we drifted into the producer’s booth. Cecily’s face looked drawn and pale  - the tragic loss of her mother still showing the traces of her ordeal in her features. She sipped at her coffee and powered up the monitors.

She was an attractive woman – quiet and withdrawn. I sensed she was the kind of person who saw a lot, but said little. She caught me watching her and arched an eyebrow.

“Something wrong?”

I shook my head. “No,” I said. “I was just thinking how good it was to have you back producing the show,” I said off-handedly. “Things run smoother…”

She smiled politely, brushing the compliment off. “Well it’s good to be back at work,” she said. “It keeps my mind off things.”

We said nothing for a while. Cecily checked the phones. Through the window we could see Duncan – the on-air announcer who worked the 8pm to midnight shift. He was just wrapping up pre-recording the end of his program. He was obviously running late. Normally the station was abandoned by the time we all arrived for work.

While I watched, the guy slowly sat back in the chair and then stretched and yawned. He picked up a briefcase and walked out of the studio. I heard him walking down the hallway, heavy lumbering footsteps, but he didn’t stop and he didn’t speak. He went right by the door and just kept on walking.

“Sociable guy,” I smiled wryly at Cecily.

She shrugged. “Radio has a habit of attracting the weird, the extroverts, and the downright fascinating,” she said.

“And what are you?”

She smiled – the first flicker of a genuine grin. “I’m one of the weird ones,” she said. “And you…” she widened her eyes and her voice became a little softer, “… are one of the downright fascinating.”

I said nothing. Cecily looked suddenly embarrassed like she wished she could take the words back. She blushed a bright color of crimson and there was a drawn out silence until I heard the foyer door slam.

April filled the booth’s doorway, bangles jingling and her hair awry. She wilted theatrically around a smile. “Thank fuck it’s Friday,” she announced in a cloud of perfume and then flounced away down the hallway, towards the studio.

Cecily grinned at me. “And there goes your extrovert!” she said.

Chapter 34.

April cued a block of commercials, drew the blinds down, and then slowly began to undress. I looked on for a moment before turning away.

I felt like watching her was to intrude on something private and secret. April was shedding her clothes, and with it, the flamboyant outgoing persona that was like her second skin. When she stood, topless and subdued in the ghostly light of the monitors, what I saw was the real woman – an intimate glimpse revealed to very few others.

She looked flawlessly feminine and somehow very vulnerable. She watched me with big soulful eyes.

I glanced at the clock while April knelt on the pillow. I had about thirty seconds before the night’s sub-club segment began. I plugged the microphone into the console jack and set it on the edge of the desk while the seconds continued to count down.

“Don’t feel as if you have to participate tonight if you don’t want to,” I told April. “If the segment becomes more than you feel comfortable doing, just wave me off with your hand. I’ll understand.”

She nodded, but I sensed she was already drifting into that sexual and emotional space where her deepest desires and fantasies laid waiting to be awakened. Her gaze was distant.

I picked up the microphone and heard a waver of jazz on the air like a familiar friend.

“Welcome to the last sub-club session for the week, my sexy submissive listeners. I hope you’ve all been good girls today, because tonight your Master is going to take you to a place of decadent lust and eroticism…” I paused for a heartbeat and caught a glimpse of April out of the corner of my eye. She was kneeling with her back straight, her breasts perfect shapes, her tummy flat, and her lips slightly parted. Her eyes were closed as if all her attention was focused on the lilting sound of my voice.

“Tonight you are going to need a chair and a scarf.” I went on dramatically. “Because tonight we’re going to do it – in the dark.”

The background music faded into a two-minute commercial break. April looked up at me like she was emerging from a trance. “A chair?”

I nodded. “Your chair will be fine – if you feel like participating.”

“And a blindfold?” She rummaged around in her bag and found a thick black elastic headband. “Will this do?”

I nodded. “Perfect,” I said.

April put the headband on and let it dangle around her throat like a loose collar. “Should I be seated in the chair?”

“Sure,” I said.

I went back on the air, keeping my voice conversational, but gradually deepening my tone and adding intensity. “Take off your bra and panties, and then I want you sitting in your chair,” I declared. “Tie the blindfold over your eyes.”

I was mindful that every chair would be different. Not all listeners would be in the kind of big leather model that April was sitting in. For many of the ladies listening, it would be a kitchen chair, or maybe just a stool, or a lounge seat.

“Once you are blindfolded, I want you to clasp your hands behind your back and imagine I have bound your wrists,” I explained. “Get yourself comfortable, and then spread your legs nice and wide for me.”

I waited for twenty seconds while jazz filled the silence. I was watching April. She had her hands behind her back and she had slid down the chair so that her bottom was resting on the edge of the seat. Her legs were wide apart. Her chair was turned so that she was facing me. Her panties were white.

And damp.

The blindfold was tight across her eyes, tugging at the tendrils of her hair, and she was breathing deeply and steadily. Each time her lungs filled, her breasts rose and then slowly fell. Her nipples were hard. Perhaps she sensed the heat of my eyes as they roamed across her body because she suddenly pinned her shoulders back another inch as if to proudly display herself, and then she licked her lips.

“You look beautiful,” I said into the microphone. There was a husk of passion in my voice that was not entirely forced. I walked to where April sat and stood beside her.

“Now, in the darkness, I want you to focus on the sound of my voice and the instructions I give,” I explained to listeners. “Block out everything else. Right now, all that matters is this moment. Give me all of your attention.”

April turned her head towards the sound of my voice. I reached down and grazed my hand across her shoulder. A rash of goosebumps broke out along her arm and she sucked in a soft gasp of breath like she had been plunged into ice-cold water.

“Imagine me standing beside you,” I hushed my voice until the words were a hypnotic whisper. “Fantasize about me slowly drawing my fingers over your shoulder and then across your throat. Think about how it would feel for my electric touch to drift down between your breasts to tease your nipples…”

I counted silently to three before I went on.

“Can you feel my fingertips?” I asked. “Can you imagine how my touch might set your flesh on fire?” I switched the mic to my other hand and then tangled my grip possessively into April’s long hair. “Now, think about me fisting my fingers in your hair and pulling your head back to expose the creamy soft skin of your throat. Think about how badly you want to feel my lips hunting down your neck, working my mouth hungrily towards your breasts, knowing you can do nothing except squirm on the seat and pray… pray that I will pleasure you.”

April groaned. She flexed her thigh muscles and her legs hung wide open. Her breathing had become ragged. She was making small panting sounds in the back of her throat. She arched her spine, lifting her breasts, as if to invite me to touch them.

“Are you wet?” I asked into the microphone. “Is your sweet, tight pussy tingling? Do you crave the attention of your Master…?”

I moved back around the chair until I was facing April. She heard my footsteps and seemed to sense the distance between us. Some of the anticipation went out of her tensed body.

“Now imagine me kneeling between your spread legs,” I whispered and then lowered myself on one knee to the studio floor. “Imagine how sexy you look to me right now – your nipples hard, your breathing coming in little gasps. Think about the heat of my gaze as my eyes devour you. Think about the blaze of lust in my eyes as I softly run my tongue along your thigh towards your pussy. Imagine me kissing behind your knee, and then my lips drifting higher and higher in a trail of caresses until my mouth is just inches away from the smoldering heat of your sex.”

April seemed to tense against her invisible bonds as though straining herself towards me. Her hips moved on the seat and her face twisted into a grimace of erotic agony. The fabric of her panties pulled tight into the lips of her pussy so that I could see the dampness there and smell the fresh musky scent of her.

“Imagine the feel of my tongue, and how vulnerable you are right now to my fingers and my mouth. Think about the tease of my hot breath as it drifts across the aching nub of your clit. Feel your body tingling on the desperate point of explosion…
and then moan for me
.”

April sucked in a deep breath and then groaned like the sound was tortured pleasure wrenched from her very essence. She was balancing on the balls of her feet, trying to thrust her hips up to meet my mouth as her fantasized images became so powerful that they overwhelmed her. She heaved a deep breath and then bit down hard on her lip. I watched her writhe on the brink of breaking for an exquisite torment of long seconds.

“You’re free!” I said at last. “Your hands are no longer restrained. Touch yourself for me. Slide your fingers deep inside your tight sexy pussy and come for my pleasure.”

April wrenched her hands from behind her back and reached down inside her panties. Her fingers were frantic. Her face twisted into an expression of fierce concentration. She gasped at the touch of herself and her legs went suddenly soft. She bucked her hips against the palm of her hand and then gave a long heave of breath.

She was coming.

“Yes!” I encouraged into the microphone. I got to my feet and turned away, leaving April to the intimacy of her release. I stared up at the clock, watching the seconds tick by, and in the background I could hear April’s desperate panting, as her whole body seemed to come to frantic life.

“Yes!”
I said again, this time louder. “Your Master wants you to come. I want your fingers slick with your juices. Come for me now!”

“Oh god!” April cried out. I turned in surprise. She was leaning on the edge of the chair as if she might fall. Her legs were splayed and both her hands were now thrust between her thighs. She clenched her teeth and then froze in a shuddering spasm.

“Oh god…” she said once more.

And then April’s orgasm swept her away, sobbing and trembling over the edge of reality, and into the rapturous embrace of her release.

She came back slowly, as if re-emerging from a dark tunnel into the light. She tugged the blindfold from her head and blinked owlishly at me. For long moments she had no words, just an intense look of wonder in her gaze. She was still trembling. She brushed her lips with the tip of her finger and her eyes were dark fathomless pools of some profound understanding.

“Your…” she shook her head in slow adulation,
“… your words just left a mark on my soul.”

I said nothing.