Working Out the Kinks (Chain) (8 page)

I stepped around the bed and his gaze was on me the entire time. When I stepped inside the bathroom, I wanted to die of shock. Smooth white marble adorned the sinks, shaping two bowls into the stone without any lines. There was a deep, claw-footed bathtub dominating the corner and to the other side was a stone structure I was sure wrapped around to hide the shower. I closed the door behind me and used the toilet quickly.

When I returned to the bedroom, Eric had already left. I slowly walked through the room, admiring the beautiful woodwork and style that was all him. He had updated a lot of the furnishings, the large dresser, the bed. They were all given an industrial touch. But the walls and floors were older, much older. I walked through the hallway and noticed Eric had no photos adorning any wall. There were only paintings, and one framed portrait of a family crest.

The living room was not the same as it had looked at night the last two times I’d seen it. With the daylight coming through the large windows, it didn’t seem so sinister. There was warmth about the place, and it had an inviting feel. The piano shone against the sunlight, its large black hood open to reveal an array of strings and metalwork.

I heard the sounds of movement in the kitchen and with a quick dash I walked toward it. Eric was turned away from me, pouring a cup of coffee. He had slipped on a pair of lounge pants, holding up just enough over his hipbones to give me a view. He stole a glance at me over his shoulder and then turned back to his coffee.

“Waiting position, next to my chair,” he said. I turned on my heel and left the room to obey. Once situated on the floor, I watched him leave the kitchen to disappear back into the bedroom. He returned with my dress in hand.

“Lift up your arms.”

I lifted them, and he helped me back into my dress, straightening it over my hips after having me stand up. Once he was done, he held me by my hair, bringing me between his legs. Eric pressed me to his chest and captured my lips. I loved kissing him, but it was difficult to enjoy because I was never in control of the kiss. I made a mental note to myself that if I ever had the option of choosing my reward, it would be to determine the length of time I would have in kissing him. As expected, our lips broke from one another just as I tried to deepen it. Eric closed his eyes, his hand tightening against my scalp. He opened his eyes then released his grip.

“You did very well last night, Alexandra. I want you to know I’m expecting only the best you can give me from now on,” Eric said, whispering close to my face.

“Thank you, Sir,” I whispered and a small smile formed on his lips.

“Have a good day, Miss Hayes.”

He released his hold, giving me silent permission to leave and the tense air around us dissipated. I stepped back into my sandals and looped my purse over my shoulder next to the front entrance. When I closed the front door behind me, my mind started to race with concern.

I was supposed to be looking out for Whitney, right? But Eric was…

I couldn’t wrap my mind around what exactly Eric was to me. Forcible, strict, handsome, aggressive, good kisser, perfect body, wicked.

“Stop it, Lexi, he’s nothing. You’re just getting in and getting Whitney out of there, that’s all,” I reminded myself, pushing my car keys forcibly into the ignition. Driving used to take my mind off things when I found I needed a good distraction. I used to love driving along the freeways, windows down with my favorite music on. Living in Los Angeles meant I spent a lot of time on the roads, and so I had come to love them.

Yet not even paved asphalt, hard and firm, could stop my plagued thoughts of Eric. It didn’t help that his scent was on my clothes, on my skin, and in my hair. I curled a lock around my finger as I worried on the strand, biting and nibbling on it between my teeth. I needed to figure out what I was going to do next for Whitney, to try and help her out of this situation. But where would I start now? I cursed myself silently for letting Eric take such easy control over me. I should have been colder with him, more unyielding. The traffic caused me to come to a standstill on the road. I drew out a sigh and my gaze drifted down and noticed my phone peaking out of my purse.

With care, I kept one hand on the wheel and pulled the phone out. I hadn’t called her since high school, but I thanked my lucky stars because I had saved my old numbers in case I ever needed them. I plucked out my earpiece as well and coiled it around my ear and began searching through the contacts list until I found Porter, Whitney. I dialed and waited until the fourth ring for her to answer.

“Hello?” She didn’t recognize my number anymore.

“Hey, Whitney, it’s Lexi,” I answered.

“Lexi! Hey,” she said with her old, familiar enthusiasm. The sound instantly brought a smile to my face.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go out for lunch today? I’m hoping to take a break from studying and I wanted to see you.”

“Lunch?” she asked with a strange hesitation.

I grew curious. “Yeah, I was thinking just somewhere around Westwood, if that works?”

“Yes, I can go! What time were you thinking?”

We decided to meet at noon at the pizza parlor two blocks over from my apartment. When I got home I jumped in the shower to wash Eric off me. Though I knew it was just a silly mind game I was playing, I felt that Whitney would sense him on my skin and hair if I didn’t scrub myself down at least twice.

I found Whitney already sitting at a table when I got to lunch. She was sipping an iced tea, a pair of large, black glasses over her eyes. She saw me coming and flashed a bright smile then waved.

“Hey there,” she chirped and stood to give me a friendly hug. It was curious to me, this sudden change of demeanor. I imagined that at school, with Eric always picking her up, she was always on edge.

We took our seats and ordered a slice of pizza for each of us.

“So you’ve been on top of things?” she asked me and I choked on my soda. Whitney had to pat my back while I coughed up my drink.

I tried laughing it off but the image of me “on top of things” was too vivid. Yes, being on top of Eric would probably be good. More than good.

“With studying,” I said once I had recovered. “Yeah, I had been trying to push through that last chapter in class. I needed a break.”

“Same here,” Whitney agreed. “I don’t think I’ll get through the Great Depression without feeling depressed.”

Our food arrived and I half expected her to begin picking off the cheese and toppings from the bread but Whitney picked it up in a normal fashion and began to eat. I nibbled at my slice as she complained about the paper we were expected to finish by next week. While she talked, I couldn’t stop the nagging feeling that I needed to tell her what I was doing.

“Whit, do you think we’ve…changed?” I tried hinting. She finished her bite and shrugged her shoulders.

“I guess everyone changes a little after high school. Why?”

“I…I was just thinking that…” I didn’t even know where to start. What was I supposed to say to her, to let her know I was worried?

Whitney surprised me by placed her hand over mine. “You’ve obviously got something on your mind.”

I nodded my head, but words weren’t coming out.

“Has something happened?” she asked. “I mean, it’s none of my business, if you don’t want to talk about it.”

Instantly I felt ten times worse. This was what I should have asked her before sleeping with Eric.

“Would you tell me about that guy you get into the car with after class?” I blurted out. Whitney’s gentle smile slowly faded away and I began to panic.

“I’m just worried about you and I want to know that you’re okay. You didn’t really want to talk about it the last time we hung out, but damn it, Whitney, we grew up together. You’re still my friend and I want you to be safe.”

She pulled back from the table to settle into her chair. Whitney looked down at her lap, studying her fingers as she played with a piece of fabric on her jacket.

“I’m safe, I promise,” she answered meekly.

This wasn’t going to work unless I pressed her to talk. “Can you tell me about him?”

Whitney looked up at me, worry and hesitation blazing in her eyes. “I…He’s my…Master.”

Bingo.

I did my best to show no emotion, hoping she would elaborate. There was a flush of red that formed on her cheeks when she grew embarrassed.

“It’s okay, I’m happy you’re telling me,” I said with a smile that seemed to catch her off guard.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never really told anyone about what I do,” she explained.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I’d never judge you. I told you, I just want you safe.”

The side of her lip curled up, but she was still nervous to speak.

“So he’s your Master. What made you choose him?”

Whitney looked at me strange and then picked up her pizza once more.

“It wasn’t much of a choice. He was just what I needed in order to be what I want to be.”

Eric had mentioned he trained submissives before, and I started to see why Whitney would say he wasn’t her boyfriend. She was being trained, not being romanced. Luckily for her, he was easy on the eyes as well.

“You sound like you know the lifestyle,” she said between bites.

I tried covering up my tracks as best I could by following her lead and biting into my food.

“I’ve heard of things like that, but I’ve never known someone to actually be in the lifestyle.”

Whitney’s cocked one brow. “You’ve heard of bondage?”

I nodded my head slowly. “In my psychology class, we touched on it briefly and I was curious about what it was.”

The answer seemed to appease her.

“I’m being trained for another Dominant I met a few months ago. He had very specific orders and needs and so Master Eric offered to help us out,” she explained further.

“Why didn’t he just train you?” I asked, leaning my head into my hand.

Whitney took another sip of her soda and then finished off her pizza.

“He’s overseas for work right now, and Master Eric is one of the best men to train me, he says. They’re part of this organization of Dominants that get together once a year for training and workshops and so I’m working on being presented to Master Grant then.”

“Why were you so afraid to tell me when I asked you a few weeks ago?” I questioned. Whitney smiled shyly and looked back down at her lap.

“It’s not something everyone is interested in hearing. I haven’t seen you in such a long time that I didn’t know how you would respond.”

She seemed embarrassed, and I didn’t like it. I picked up my chair and scooted it over to Whitney’s side. Placing my arms around her, I hugged her close and felt her embrace me back.

“This guy better be worth it,” I whispered.

“He is, I promise,” she whispered back.

When lunch was over, I still didn’t know what I was going to do anymore. Whitney had confessed to me, and now it was my turn to tell her what I had done. But everything felt wrong. I wanted to tell her, truly I did. Yet I couldn’t. I started to wonder if I really just wanted to keep Eric to myself, as my little secret. Would it really be so bad not to tell her the truth? It was something I could talk to Eric about, the next time that I saw him.

And then my problems turned worse because I had started to include Eric into my decisions.

I walked back home, knowing Whitney would be with her Master for the evening. For my night, I would be stuck at home with my books and my TV. I tried taking a nap, but all I could do was lay there and play with myself, thinking of how I had woken that morning, with a man wanting me. In my fantasy, my arms were bound, and my legs were tied to them. I was spread, ready for anything he wanted me to feel. The images I had searched out earlier that week flooded back to my mind, and I started to place myself in them.

I had to shower once more, after building up what I considered a good workout sweat in bed. When I emerged from the bathroom, I heard my phone chime indicating I had received a text. It was probably from my mother, I imagined. It was after nine in the evening and she was the only person to message me this late. She suffered from insomnia, and being stuck in New York, a city that never sleeps, didn’t help the matter. There were nights when I had already gone to bed, and she tried to call, thinking all UCLA college students stayed up past midnight, Pacific Standard Time. The phone beeped again just as I was shutting off my hair dryer.