Role Play Page 3

  “Just a rope? It looks like I’ve got the better end of this deal.”

  “You could try to whap me in the balls, but I’m betting I can block you.” Victor smiled.

  I had to laugh at that. Then he looked deeply into my eyes again, and I felt the tug of his confidence, and yes, his amusement, pulling me towards him.

  You would think I would run screaming at such an offer, but no… I was intrigued. By his interest in me, by the intensity in his eyes.

  He held the key to this world. The world where Lola was playing with fire. What was my sister up to with that odd-looking man? The foursome were still talking, revealing nothing, yet revealing everything about how comfortable Lola was in this place. With them.

  Victor made me curious, not only because of my sister but because I kept looking at the rope in his hands and wondering how it would feel to let him touch me. I shivered slightly just thinking about it.

  “How do I know you’ll keep your end of the bargain?” I asked.

  “You can go first.” He pulled out his phone and punched in a few numbers. “Sixty seconds and counting. Are you ready?”

  I felt rushed and unsure of myself. But I had to find out more. More than anything, I wanted to leap out in front of Lola, to figure out a way to stop her headlong flight into disaster.

  Besides, what could go wrong in one minute? With all of these people around? Monica said Victor was the best. That was a glowing reference, if I ever heard one. I could handle anything for one minute. Then I would know what I was dealing with.

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  Victor grinned and touched his phone. “Time’s started.”

  I looked up at him for a moment, feeling the ruler in my hand. The edges were slightly rounded, but still sharp enough to hurt if I hit him with it wrong. But clearly he was expecting to be struck. I wondered why he wanted to feel pain, but if that was his thing, who was I to judge?

  “Hold out your hands. Palms up,” I said.

  The way he stood there in front of me, his hands out, gave me a weird feeling in my stomach. I wished it was the other way around. I wanted to see what it felt like to be in his hands, the way he was in my hands right now.

  I took the ruler and smacked it down on his upraised palm. He didn’t even flinch. I had to admit, it made me smack his other palm a little harder. Still, no flinch. He was looking into my eyes, searching me, as if he could see everything I felt. It was a rush when I hit him because of how wrong it was, exciting because it was so taboo.

  I wanted to laugh for some weird reason, and I couldn’t stop my lips from twitching up.

  Gradually men began to gather around us. I could see them moving in closer, fixated on us. It was creepy but the sexual charge in the air was also exhilarating. I didn’t expect that.

  I lost track of how many times I struck Victor’s palms, hitting a little harder each time, expecting him to flinch. But he never did. He took my blows as if they were nothing, even as his flesh reddened and I knew I would have been shaking my hands from the sharp sting.

  The alarm went off, rousing me. He dropped his hands, looking at me. After a moment, I said, “That was a long minute.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “Did it hurt?”

  “Yes.”

  I felt an odd thrill deep inside. It was so intimate, even though I hadn’t touched him! Not really.

  “Did it turn you on?” he asked.

  “It was intense,” I admitted. I liked that he let me do what I wanted to him.

  “I think you’ve got a submissive streak, too,” he suggested. “Do you want to find out?”

  “What about them?” I asked, lifting my chin at the men who had gathered closely around us. They blocked my view of Lola. I craned forward to see my sister was still sitting at the table with the others.

  “Come back here,” Victor told me. He took me to the rear of the nook, keeping his back to the men who slipped in after him.

  He gave them a glare over his shoulder, and they retreated to the front edge of the nook, forming a line. Squeezed into a corner, all I could see was Victor’s chest and broad shoulders in front of me. But I could feel the press of eyes on the other side of him, and was grateful for his protection.

  Now I was even more curious. What would it feel like to stand there like he had done and take his blows? Was he going to hit me with the rope? Or maybe spank me? Wasn’t that the usual thing that went on in a place like this? A little slap and tickle…

  Victor pressed the button on his phone and pocketed it. “Okay, now it’s my minute.”

  With a few twists of his fingers, he held out a figure eight that he had made from the rope. “Put your hands through here.”

  I stuck a hand through each loop, still holding the ruler. I wasn’t going to let him take it from me for fear that he would use it on me. Now I was regretting how hard I hit him there at the end. But he had taken it without making a sound, acting like it was nothing. For some reason, I couldn’t stop trying to get a reaction out of him.

  Now it was my turn.

  He tightened the loops around my wrists, drawing my hands palms together, like I was in handcuffs.

  “Oh, I see,” I said. I twisted my hands, trying to test how strong it was. I couldn’t get free.

  Victor lifted my arms over my head, holding onto the rope, and then pulled my wrists down behind my neck. My hands went to the back of my head, my elbows pointing upward.

  Before I could grasp what was happening, he put one firm arm around my waist, walking me a step backward. My back went hard against the brick wall. It didn’t look that clean, so I was glad my own hair was tucked inside the wig.

  Then he leaned into me, and I couldn’t think about anything else. I was trapped, my wrists tied and pulled down behind my neck, as Victor pressed me against the brick wall. His big, hard body was against mine. I couldn’t move, completely enveloped by him.

  A rush of pleasure nearly overpowered me. It felt so good! With my head swooning, I almost didn’t hear him.

  “You didn’t negotiate for a way to stop,” he murmured.

  As soon as he said that, I knew I was in trouble. I struggled against him, but he held me without any effort on his part. I couldn’t pull my wrists from behind my head, and I couldn’t budge his body against mine.

  His eyes were hard and darkened. He looked like a completely different person, all sharp angles in his face, disgust oozing out of him.

  It turned ugly so fast, I couldn’t think.

  “This is what happens to stupid girls like you who let strangers tie them up,” he growled. “What did you think was going to happen? You let some random guy do anything he wants to you? You throw your trust away on the first person who asks?”

  I couldn’t move; he was holding me too tightly.

  Let me go, I wanted to scream. My mouth opened, but the words wouldn’t come out.

  “I could do anything I want to you,” Victor told me. “You think the cops are going to believe a girl who goes to a club like this to pick up guys? They’ll believe a man like me. I could shove that skirt up and take you right here in front of these men. They would lap it up. I’d be done before that bouncer got back here to break it up.”

  I knew he could. I was caught in his grip, struck dumb by my own stupidity. He had locked me up tight at his mercy with only a tiny piece of rope.

  No, it was his words, the barely restrained fury in his voice that told me not to fight or I would unleash a monster.

  “Or I could squeeze your throat until you see stars and start to black out,” he said, rubbing his thumb along the base of my neck. “That happens to girls like you. Girls who think they’re better than everyone else. But you’re not better. You’re crawling around in the filth with everyone else here, asking for something you don’t even understand.”

  Suddenly something inside of me broke. He was right. What was I doing here? I put myself in his hands, so he could do anything he wanted to me. I had thrown myself into t
he dirt after Lola, thinking I could save her. It served me right.

  Tears flooded my eyes. There was nothing I could do about it. After all these years of preaching at Lola for being careless, and I was the one who fucked up. With his words, he took all the fight from me in an instant, and everything I had used to sustain myself turned out to be a lie. The only thing holding me up was his body pressing into mine.

  He saw it when I gave in. When I went limp under him. His eyes grew brighter, like he had won something from me. Like he had taken some power from me, and now it made him stronger.

  And still I couldn’t do anything but let the tears spill down my cheeks.

  Chapter 2

  Vic

  The phone alarm went off, cutting across my awareness. Cutting the ties that bound us together.

  She was crying.

  I pulled back to let go of her. I released her arms, letting her bring them down in front of her. The ruler fell with a clatter.

  She was really crying now.

  I seemed to come back slowly from the red hot haze that had burned through me since I had heard Sierra call me Jersey in that snide, condescending tone.

  Like I was nothing.

  But boy, she had changed her tune after Monica had gossiped about how rich and successful I was. Sierra was just that type of girl, the kind who came here looking for their 50 Shades billionaire master who would tuck them into the lap of luxury and blindfold them every once in a while when they had sex.

  Sierra looked up at me in fear, tears trembling on her lashes.

  I couldn’t help it; I pulled her against my chest, holding her tightly. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She melted into me and cried even harder, in relief or whatever was racking her right now. Maybe my mindfuck had triggered something, a memory of something awful in her past. No telling, since I knew nothing about her.

  I liked her even better like this. Crying… vulnerable… My hard-on felt shameful, even as my dick throbbed harder for attention, urging me to grind into her again. Like when I held her helpless against the wall.

  No use in lying to myself. I had done it on purpose. I wanted to make her feel bad after she made the darkness close in around me. I wanted to scare the living daylights out of her and bring her down a notch or two.

  And she had handed herself over to me on a silver platter. Throwing the dice that I was her prince charming in leather.

  As I cradled her head, I realized her wig was slipping off. I caught it before it fell, still holding tight to her. She bent her face into her hands against my chest.

  Her real hair was silky soft, falling in a long dark cascade down her back.

  It was like a mask had been ripped off her. The bold riot of magenta curls was gone, revealing a young woman with make-up smeared down her face as she looked up. Her dark eyes were huge, beseeching, the black lashes impossibly long. Her defenses were gone, that sassy tongue with a quick retort now stilled.

  Suddenly I wanted to protect her—from guys like me! I felt like an asshole, and it was a serious rush at the same time, which made it even more fucked up.

  My throat got tight as I stroked her hair. “Don’t ever let a stranger tie you up,” I murmured.

  She sniffed. “I get that.”

  “I told you things could go wrong. But you wouldn’t listen, chasing after that guy you don’t even know.”

  Her eyes focused, losing some of that awful glazed look. “Was that supposed to be some kind of lesson?”

  I wanted to say yes, but mostly it happened because I wanted it to. “Call it whatever.”

  “I don’t know what that was!” Sierra managed to pull away from me.

  The guys who had been watching were melting away quickly, sensing a scene gone bad and wanting to distance themselves from it. I felt even more conspicuous. I had lost my mind for a minute. What a stupid game to play with someone I didn’t know!

  I offered Sierra the wig, and she took it, watching me warily. As if unsure of what I would do next.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. “I’ll get you a cab to take you home.”

  She took a step away from me, warding me off. “I’m fine.”

  I watched as she stepped into the room, searching the crowd quickly. With a shake of her head as if disappointed, she headed to the exit.

  I followed her. She was a little unsteady on her feet, and I had put her into that state. I couldn’t let her wander off into traffic alone.

  Outside, I expected her to hold up her hand to get a cab—they were everywhere around here. But she turned and went to the corner.

  By the time I reached the top of the stairs, she was at the corner waiting for the light to cross the street. She was swaying a bit, staring off at one spot as if dazed. She was a slight form, closed in on herself in the moist summer breeze, pungent with the smell of the street. Slowly she pulled a tissue from her purse and blew her nose, wiping the smeared makeup off her cheeks with it.

  I passed behind her and ran across the street in the middle of the block to get ahead of her. I figured she was trying to hail a cab going in the other direction.

  But as Sierra crossed over and reached the other side, she turned and came towards me. I stepped back into the shadows of the doorway as she walked almost all the way up to me.

  I thought she had seen me and was mad that I was following her, but she didn’t notice me. She went straight to a black car parked at the curb and opened the door.

  “What took so long?” a deep voice demanded. “Why didn’t you answer my texts?”

  Sierra sank into the seat, clutching the red wig. “Just go. Take me home.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing happened. Now, go.” She turned to the window, her fisted hand over her mouth. I didn’t move, afraid she would notice me in the shadowed doorway of the shop.

  The big blocky guy at the wheel kept complaining about keeping him waiting as he pulled out of the parking spot. He wasn’t the kind of guy I expected to see Sierra with. He looked like an ordinary Queens schmo.

  I had felt bad there for a second, watching her blow her nose on the street corner, but apparently she was pulling one over on that dude in the car, too.

  What was Sierra’s story? I couldn’t figure her out. At first, when I saw her walking around the Chamber, I thought she was a wanna-be dominatrix hoping to make enough money to put herself through grad school. When she hit me with the ruler, she showed real promise—a genuine intensity and connection with me. But her dominance was mostly an illusion created by a sharp tongue, a wig and some makeup.

  Really, she was a bedroom submissive looking for her sugar-daddy. She had judged me unworthy the first second she heard my voice. How could she hear the Jersey I thought I had buried deep inside of me? I would never know. But she did, and she had instantly rejected me for it, until Monica had gossiped about my wealth.

  Then Sierra had been plenty ready to play nice.

  So that made her fair game.

  When I whispered those threats to her, now that had been the mind-blower. I still couldn’t believe what a feeling it gave me. Power in the face of powerlessness. Not just because I was riding that dark edge that could swallow me up so easily, but because of her reaction, the way she gave in to me in the end. The way she looked at me as if she knew I owned her in that moment.

  So where did that dude in the car come in? Did he know that Sierra was inside the Chamber?

  I looked back at the Chamber. I could go back inside if I wanted to. Find another girl, have another scene, maybe take her home and fuck her.

  The palms of my hands burned. Sierra had hit me hard.

  I didn’t want to go back to the Chamber.

  I set off on foot down 9th Avenue. It would take forty-five minutes to walk home, but it would save me the fare for a subway ride. And nothing beat walking in the city.

  ...

  As I entered my small loft apartment, I suddenly thought about Adrianne. She had put her stamp of
style on my place: in the tiny kitchen, the exposed brick wall and the remodeled bathroom with the glass bricks that let in light. I could almost see her sitting at the tiny counter, her dark head thrown back in laughter.

  I hadn’t thought about her in years. On purpose.

  I had added my own touches to the place over the past decade, imprinting myself on it with the black leather couch and stark photographs on the walls. It was spare and modern, like an interior designer had put it together. It gave exactly the impression what I wanted.

  Adrianne had left me the loft when she walked out all those years ago. Left me and our rocket ship relationship for marriage to an investment banker. She had never taken me seriously because I was much younger than her, even though I dominated her in every way. Last I heard, she was living on the thirty-sixth floor of Beacon Court, a luxury glass tower on the Upper East Side. Her kid must be seven years old now.

  I had tried to erase her from my life completely, but that was impossible considering I was living in her old loft. Ghosts of girlfriends past. But she had already been living there for a decade before I moved in with her, and that kind of stabilized rent couldn’t be beat in Manhattan anymore. My neighbors were paying four times what I did.

  I dropped down on the couch, looking through the two large windows that filled the outer wall of the studio loft, over the tops of the surrounding low buildings. Midtown rose beyond the Village, with its skyscrapers filling the view to the north.

  I scrubbed a hand through my hair. Why did I come home so early?

  Before things could get uncomfortably deep, my phone rang. I saw it was the night supervisor from work. I would have ignored it if I had stayed at the Chamber. But now… with nothing better to do.

  I answered it. Sure enough, a guy had called in sick.

  I changed out of my nice clothes and gathered my gear, heading downstairs. It wasn’t far to Houston St. where a cab picked me up and took me over the Williamsburg Bridge, onto the BQE. It took only twenty minutes to make the trip to La Guardia airport, half the time of my normal commute by subway and bus.

  I handed the night supervisor my cab receipt. They always paid for a car when they called a man in. “Busy?” I asked.