Unleashed (A Sydney Rye Novel, # 1) (21 page)

Gertrude opened another door, and I stepped through. She closed the door behind me, and I was in complete darkness. I felt dizzy and off balance. It was pitch black. I reached my free hand out searching for the wall, and hopefully a light switch, but found only empty space.

I felt a presence, and suddenly there was an arm around my waist. “Wait,” I said, but then he was kissing me. I felt tequila gimlet spill out of my glass onto my hand. A handcuff clicked around my free wrist and then he took my gimlet away. I heard the glass fall to the floor and break.

He pushed my hands behind my back and locked them together. “Declan,” I said. My eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness. I could just make out his figure in front of me. He pulled me further into the room. There were large windows to our left covered in dark curtains. A few lines of dim light illuminated shelves filled with books. Several reading chairs and what looked like a couch sat in the center of the room. Declan pushed me over so that my face was toward the cushion and my ass in the air.

“Declan wait,” I said.

He leaned down and whispered into my ear. “The safe word is doppelgänger. Don’t use it unless you really want me to stop.”

He pulled my dress up so that my bare bottom was up in the air. I didn’t say another word except for Jesus and God until it was over. We were in the stacks. I was sore, my wrist raw, and there was no doubt I was going to have trouble walking tomorrow. Doyle unlocked me, and I rubbed at the redness. I heard Doyle laugh. “Even the fur doesn’t help sometimes.”

I laughed. “Where is my clothing?”

“I’ll get the lights.” He disappeared into the darkness. Moments later the room lit up. I squinted against the light. Doyle returned, his pants back on. His hair was every which way, and I smiled at him. Reaching up, I tried to flatten it down for him as he buttoned his shirt closed. “I’ll get you another drink. Sorry about the last one.” He didn’t look sorry about the last one I certainly wasn’t. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait. Help me get this thing on first.” I picked up the corset. He smiled and obliged, tying the ribbons a little tighter than before.

He left to go replace my gimlet, and I stepped into my dress. It was a little wrinkled, but I didn’t think anyone would notice. I was zipping it when someone said, “Hello Miss Humbolt.” I swirled around holding my dress to my breast. I didn’t see anyone.

“Hello,” I called out. “Who’s there?”

A man I’d never seen before stepped out from between the stacks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“How long have you been here?”

He laughed. The man was a little taller than Doyle which made him quite a bit taller than me. He was wearing a tuxedo and what looked like real diamond cufflinks that twinkled in the bright lighting. “I swear I’ve only been watching a moment. I’m disappointed Declan didn’t want to share.” I held my dress tighter and took a step back. The man smiled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He came toward me. I shuffled away from him.

“Look dude, I’m not really dressed, and you’re kind of creeping me out so how about you keep your distance.”

He laughed at that. The man was probably in his fifties. His hair was brown, with silver at the temples. “I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself. I’m Bobby Maxim. You work for me.”

I swallowed, unsure of what to do. I had actually, kind of made out with this guy’s wife within the past hour.

“Won’t you come into the main room?” he asked.

Bobby held out his hand to me, but I shook my head no. “Once again, I’m not dressed, and you’re pretending like I am.”

“You’d be considered overdressed where I want to take you.”

“Then I don’t want to go.”

I heard the door open, and Doyle was back. When he saw Bobby, he almost dropped my tequila gimlet. “Robert,” Declan said and cleared his throat. “Good to see you.”

“Can you zip my dress?”

Doyle handed me my drink and zipped me up. Robert didn’t take his eyes off me. “I was just admiring your date. I invited her to the main room, but she seems frightened.”

“I’m not scared,” I said. “You creeped me out.”

Doyle’s eyes were huge when he looked at me. “Joy, you really shouldn’t—”

“It’s OK, Declan. I like a lady who is not afraid to share her thoughts. I also like a little bruising. He motioned to my cheek. Did Doyle do that?”

“No,” I said.

“Your lips are swollen too, I like that.”

“Sir—” Doyle started, but Robert stopped him with a wave of his hand. He approached me, and there was nowhere to back up.

“I’d like to show you something, if you don’t mind?”

I looked at Declan, and he nodded his head. “I guess,” I said.

He took my arm. I slurped my tequila. We walked through the stacks until we came to a large fireplace. “Declan, will you please?”

Declan scurried forward into the fireplace. It was as tall as him, made of pale grey stone, blackened by years of smoke. Declan pushed against the back wall, and it opened. I love secret passageways and was absolutely delighted when it opened to reveal another room.

Robert led me into the small space. It was actually quite long but the ceiling was only about eight feet high. Shackles lined one wall, and on the other hung whips, chains, paddles, and ball gags—everything an S&M club might need.

Bobby turned to me. “I hope you will have a go at me.”

I pulled away from him and walked to the wall. I was sore after my time with Declan, but there was something here that I really liked. I ran a hand over one of the whips—not for me I thought. Doyle stepped passed me and replaced a paddle on the way. It must have been the one he used on me. I blushed at the memory. That was more my speed. These seemed to be weapons of escape.

A couple entered the room from a different entrance. They were clearly intoxicated. I recognized the man almost immediately as one of the people Mulberry wanted me to find. And here he was in an S&M dungeon in the most elite club in New York City.

“Are you all playing?” he asked. The woman by his side was small and plump and very much his junior. Her eyes were glassy, and I’d have bet good money she was high.

“No, we were just leaving,” I said. I led the way out of the room. Mr. Maxim followed closely behind me. I spilled a little of my drink onto my dress and stopped to wipe at it. Robert was suddenly there with a pocket square wiping at my breast. Declan didn’t say anything.

Mr. Maxim looked into my eyes and, dropping the square, reached into my dress ripping the fabric and grabbed my breast. I slapped him across the face. He turned back to me and laughed. I pulled back and slugged him knocking him back. He stumbled but quickly regained himself. When he looked back at me his eyes were bright. “Yes,” he said. “That’s it. Just wonderful.” He reached out to grab at me again, but I turned on my heel and marched out of the library. I could hear him laughing.

Doyle chased me down and grabbed my arm before I could get back into the front hall. “Joy, wait,” he said.

“You just let that guy grab at me like that,” I spat at him.

“This is usually a shared experience. I told you why we were coming here.”

“I don’t think I like it.”

He smiled. “You did a minute ago. Robert doesn’t mean anything. He just likes a good fight.”

“I want to go home,” I felt tired and confused. He was right. I had put myself in this situation. Why wouldn’t that old asshole think he could touch me? I just fucked a guy in a library while handcuffed to a shelving unit. It was a joke to be acting like I was a lady. “He ripped my dress.”

“I’ll get you a new one,” Doyle said.

“Just take me home.”

Doyle got my wrap, and I covered my ripped dress with it. As we moved through the main hall, I saw that most of the older crowd had left. Elaine was cornered by a balding man in a red vest, but she did not seem to mind at all. There was an electric charge in the air. I stopped for a moment and turned around, surveying the whole space. Doyle looked at me, questioning.

“Are they all going to fuck each other?” I asked.

Doyle laughed. “Not all of them, but yeah, a lot of them.”

“Do you do this all the time?”

He shook his head. “Not all the time.”

“But a lot?”

He reached under my wrap and caressed the top of my breast. Gently, he moved his hand into where the dress was ripped. “Enough so that I know what I’m doing.”

I suddenly realized I was in way over my head as I leaned into him for a kiss.

Weird Phone Call

My phone woke me. I rolled over and tried to ignore it. I heard myself on my answering machine encouraging the caller to leave their name, number, and a brief message after the beep. “Beep!” “Hi, this is Julen. I am calling you back.” “Beep!”

“Well, Blue, I guess it’s time to get out of bed.” He snorted softly and tucked his head farther under his back leg. I watched him breathing slowly at the foot of my bed and decided that I loved my dog. He had gained weight since moving in with me, and there was something about his soft, rhythmic breathing, his lightly closed eyelids, and the sound of air passing through his nose that overwhelmed me.

“Come on, boy. Let’s get up.” He ignored me. “Blue, it’s time to get up.” I prodded him with my foot. He grumbled but didn’t move. “Fine. I’ll get up.” As soon as I pulled the blanket off myself, his head popped out. I slipped on a robe and made for the kitchen. My body was sore but not in a bad way. It felt like I’d spent some time at the gym working out.

I turned on the radio and the coffeemaker, both of which sputtered to life. Blue followed me around the small space of the kitchen as I gathered coffee, sugar, and milk. I spooned a cup of dog food into Blue’s bowl, which he crunched on as the coffee machine filled the house with the irresistible smell of fresh-brewed French roast.

After enjoying most of the pot of coffee and listening to the news of the day while staring out my living room window, I went to get dressed. I had slight bruising on my wrists, and there was no way I was putting on any tight pants. I found a long, loose skirt and a pile of bangles that made me look like a hippy but covered up the evidence of the previous nights “play.”

I took Blue for his morning business. Blue inspected a nearby tree, a somewhat fascinating piece of newspaper, and the tire of a Vespa. When I got back upstairs, my message machine blinked two. I listened to Julen’s message again. The second message was from Mulberry. He sounded sad or something. He wanted me to call.

“Why are you calling me?” Julen asked.

“I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just had a couple of questions.”

“Are you a cop?”

“What?”

“Don’t call me anymore. I told your friends I would do what they asked. Just leave me alone. Leave me alone.” He sounded on the verge of tears. “Leave me alone.” Julen slammed the phone down, missed the receiver, cursed, and then another bang, and the line was dead.

“What the fuck was that about?” I asked out loud. My friends? Who would my friends be? Cops? He thinks I’m a cop. So maybe the cops asked him to do something. But what? I immediately called Mulberry.

“Hey, it’s Joy.”

“I’m glad you called. How did it go last night?”

I didn’t want to get into that. At the moment I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to tell him. I rubbed at my wrist. “Fine. I saw some of the guys you asked me to look for.”

“Great, great. Can we meet?”

“How about happy hour at Flannigan’s on the West Side.”

“Sure, that’d be great. Thanks again.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Drinking with the Detective

When I went to meet Mulberry, the place was filled with smoke despite the statewide ban. Looking around the dim, wood-paneled space, I saw him at the bar talking with an older man over pints of amber beer. Not wanting to interrupt them, I walked over to the jukebox.

Four quarters bought me two songs. “Oney” by Johnny Cash—the song of a man who after 29 years of “builden’ muscles puts his point across with a right hand full of knuckles.”—followed by “How Long Has This Been Going On?” sung by the one and only Judy Garland. I’ve never really understood that song. I couldn’t tell if she has been cheated on and wants to pretend it didn’t happen or if she just found out her man was cheating on her and wants to know how long it’s been going on. But that had nothing to do with why I put it on. She belts out, “kiss me once, then once more” in a way that makes me tingle.

My two songs came and went. The detective’s drinking partner left, and I moved around the bar to sit with Mulberry.

“Hey, how long have you been here?” he asked.

“Long enough to drink most of this pint. I’m ready for another. You?” He called over the bartender, an Irish guy with bulging muscles and piercing blue eyes, who you could just tell was a rabid rugby fan. “Another round,” I told him. He moved off to pour our pints.

“I’ve got some pretty fascinating information for you,” Mulberry said.

“And I for you,” I said, still unsure of how I was going to tell him about what happened the night before.