Unforgettable Read online

  She was right.

  Without understanding in her four-year-old mind, she told me to face what I didn’t want to see. It’s one thing to be a single dad out and about. It’s another to be that person in our own house, one that suddenly feels emptier.

  Throughout the day, I’d been trying to hide from the truth that lurks in our home, the truth that becomes reality once Callie is asleep. I’m lonely for the companionship of an adult. It was one thing to feel that way in the abstract; it is quite another thing when that emotion is accompanied by a tantalizing masked face and a sexy-as-hell body with a willingness to try the unknown.

  Going home, I came to realize that I’d been trying to keep my mind occupied and not think about the gorgeous submissive who graced my presence as well as my dreams the night after our encounter.

  Avoidance is exhausting and Callie was right.

  That didn’t mean I was willing to face Moira again.

  Monday, Tuesday, and even Wednesday I told myself it wasn’t real. And yet each time my eyes closed, I saw her big blue doe-eyes staring at me. I recalled her reaching for my hand and telling me, a man she didn’t know, that she trusted me. I remembered the taste of her from the tips of her fingers.

  Finally, late last night after assuring that my parents were up for another sleepover, I called Dorothy at Lace and Leather. If I am going to be the one who brings Moira into this lifestyle, I want to do it right. I also don’t think I have a long conversion in me nor am I mentally and emotionally prepared. I need to know that Moira is as trusting as she seemed, and I need to know that before I fall any harder for the submissive beauty.

  Dorothy and I discussed a plan.

  Now, it’s in motion and I’m a nervous wreck.

  That longwinded explanation is why I showed up to this appointment.

  “Luke, tell me why you wanted to see me today,” Dr. Kizer begins as we both sit and place our mugs of coffee on a coffee table before us, me on the sofa and her in a chair with her notepad.

  I think about lifting the coffee to give me something to do, but instead I turn and face Dr. Kizer. “I did it.”

  “You did it?”

  The grin I’ve been fighting since Saturday night comes to my face.

  From my perspective as a Dominant, I think one of Dr. Kizer’s greatest gifts is her ability to encourage people to talk and share without specifically instructing them to do so. That wouldn’t work with me and while I see her manipulation, I also know how helpful she was with Beth’s and my marriage.

  “I went to Lace and Leather.”

  “Oh, you did.” She sounds genuinely pleased. “And was it as you remembered?”

  “It hasn’t changed much, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Yet it’s different?”

  I sigh. “Beth’s not there.”

  Dr. Kizer nods.

  Beth isn’t a lot of places.

  I stand and pace the length of the doctor’s office to the windows overlooking a parking lot. Staring out the windows, I say, “I didn’t know if I could go inside. The whole drive I considered turning around and going home.” I spin toward her. “One hell of a Dom, right?”

  “Do you think missing your wife makes you less of a Dominant?”

  “I don’t fucking know. I thought it did. I thought the ability and desire was gone. Until I saw...” I shake my head. Was seeing Marji at the supermarket what triggered my needs or was it her mention of Dr. Kizer? “Anyway, until I called you. Prior to that, I had pushed that part of myself away.”

  She nods. “But you called me and we spoke about...”

  Her words trail away, allowing me to fill in the blanks of our last discussion. “I did and I went to Lace and Leather. The staff is mostly the same. I was greeted as if years hadn’t passed.”

  “And how did that make you feel?”

  “Like riding a bike or whatever trite saying might apply. The building, the rich wood decor, the architecture, the scents...it was all as I remembered.”

  “That’s a great start, Luke.” Her head tips. “Did you want that to be a start or were you perhaps looking for the swan song?”

  Taking a deep breath, I turn back to the windows. “You know, driving over there, I thought about that. I thought I’d go to the club and realize it wasn’t for me anymore, not without Beth, and I’d leave more focused than ever on life with Callie.”

  “Is that what happened?”

  “I wasn’t looking. I fucking wasn’t.” I swallow as the guilt I’ve been holding in for nearly a week bubbles to the surface. “I don’t want to replace...” My voice fades as my chin drops.

  Dr. Kizer’s voice is no longer coming from the chair. She’s behind me and her tone is soft. “Luke, Beth loved you. You loved her. You still do and always will. I saw the two of you together. I saw her passion in all things. She loved life. It’s not fair that she’s no longer here. It’s not. There’s no denying that you and she have been cheated. That said, I can’t imagine that your giving up what is a part of you would be what she’d want.”

  I suck in a deep breath. “There was this one woman. I told her I would request her again. And then I’ve spent days telling myself not to.”

  “It doesn’t have to be her. Physical attraction is often conjured in the circumstances more than the individual.”

  Moira’s blue eyes, sexy curves, yellow curls, and long blonde hair come to my mind. Her sweet, trusting voice and her demure blush make my cheeks rise. I turn to Dr. Kizer and shake my head. “Doctor, there were multiple women at Lace and Leather, just as there always are. The bourbon bar had many willing to take mine—or someone else’s—mind off life, with all colors of masks. If it were the circumstances, any one of those women would have done.”

  “You’re saying this woman is...special?”

  “I don’t know what I’m saying. All I know is that I made arrangements to meet her again.”

  “At Lace and Leather?”

  “Yes. I know it’s fast, but I have a plan. I want to be sure she knows what she’s doing. Since last Saturday, though I’ve been trying my damnedest to suppress them, the feelings and desires are back. Fuck, they’re right here and I need to know if she can handle them.”

  “Is she experienced?”

  I shake my head. “White mask.”

  Dr. Kizer inhales in an uncharacteristic show of emotion.

  “I know. I know,” I say. “Hell, I know the right way to do this. I’ve done it, before Beth and with Beth.”

  “Tell me something, Luke.”

  “What, Doctor?”

  “This plan of yours, is it to reassure yourself that she’s ready or are you trying to scare her away? What if this life is for her, but not with you? Is that fair to her?”

  Fuck. I hadn’t thought of it like that.

  My neck straightens.

  That isn’t totally accurate; I have thought that maybe Moira is meant for someone else. Could I really be lucky enough to meet two women meant for me?

  The truth is that if Moira isn’t the woman for me, I sure as hell don’t want her with some other Dom, one who could do her harm. Bringing a novice into the BDSM lifestyle takes the right Dominant.

  “Luke?”

  “I don’t want her with someone who could...you know how some people are. Not all women are like Dorothy.”

  “What if this woman is?”

  “Then she will be able to handle what I have planned.”

  I look down at my watch. It’s 10:45.

  “Do you want to talk about your plan?” she asks.

  “I don’t. I guess I wanted someone to know, someone besides Dorothy, that I want to try.”

  “I hope that’s true, for your sake and this woman’s.”

  “Doctor, I’ll call and make another appointment. I have a meeting at eleven thirty, and I need to go.” I reach for the doorknob to leave.

  “Luke?”

  I stop.

  “You have my phone number if you need to talk.”


  “Thank you, Dr. Kizer.”

  As I pull the office door open, I take in the empty front office and sigh. Seeing Marji will need to wait for my next appointment.

  If there is a next time.

  Marji

  The words on my screen fade as I shake my head. Dr. Kizer is probably ready to fire me. Since last Saturday I’ve been a mess. My mind is anywhere but on what I’m doing or what she’s saying. As it is today, I was late and I’m over a day behind in transcribing her sessions. Before the text from Dorothy, I was having difficulty finding my usual joy with the clients’ revelations. The joy they share at their discoveries is what I had wanted.

  Or so I thought.

  Now that I’ve had it, a taste of what I’ve only imagined, I want more than the one-time experience. I want what comes after, whatever that may be.

  Now that the text arrived and I again have hope for more—though I don’t know what—I can’t concentrate. My mind is filled with possibilities that make my body both excited and nervous. Mr. Santana stars in all my thoughts and dreams. He’s larger than life and yet such a mystery.

  Before I left the club, Dorothy mentioned that he was at one time sought after.

  I keep replaying our conversation in my head.

  What did she mean by at one time?

  Why isn’t he now?

  She also said there’s no rule for monogamy.

  Could he be married?

  I don’t want to think about that possibility. As my mind wanders I recall a few clients who weren’t responsive to Dr. Kizer’s recommendations. Truly they’re few and far between, but it happens when one partner is more open than the other.

  What if he’s at Lace and Leather to fulfill desires that his wife won’t?

  I’m not looking for forever, but I’m also not looking to ruin someone else’s forever.

  I wish I could say I looked at his hand. I wish I could say I confirmed his marital status.

  I can’t say either one.

  The whole experience from the moment he turned on the light in the room near the back of my viewing room was overwhelming. And once he entered, I was…I am not certain how to describe it even to myself.

  What happened was an out-of-body experience with all the perks of an in-body encounter. Just the memory of the way my body responded to his deep and controlling timbre causes my flesh to heat while simultaneously prickling it with goose bumps.

  “Good night, Marji.”

  Dr. Kizer’s voice pulls me from my licentious thoughts. I clear my throat. “Good night, Doctor.”

  Before reaching the door, Dr. Kizer stops and turns my way. “Marji, is everything all right?”

  I sit taller. “I’m sorry I was late this morning. I overslept, but it won’t happen—”

  “No,” she says waving her hand. “That’s not it. I don’t know what it is. You seem...” She tilted her head. “Did something happen?” When I don’t respond, she goes on. “Please remember I’m here if you want to talk.”

  My lower lip disappears behind my teeth for a moment. No wonder she’s so successful. She opens the door for confessions. Smiling, I shrug. “I-I met a man.”

  A smile spreads across her face, showing not only in her white teeth but also radiating from her eyes. “Then I was right, something did happen.”

  “I met him and I can’t stop thinking about him.”

  “Well, in my experience that’s a good thing.”

  “I’m nervous.”

  “Why?”

  I shrug again. “I don’t know.”

  “Have you gone out on a date?”

  A date?

  If she means have we been intimate, yes. If she means have we gone out for dinner and drinks, no. My cheeks heat as I recall the way Mr. Santana sucked my essence from his fingers—hardly an ordinary first encounter.

  “We met at a club, but we are going to see one another again this weekend.”

  “Remember what you said before,” she asks, “about not being part of a couple?”

  “I’m still not.”

  “Maybe not, but you’re a step closer. Did you ask to see him again?”

  My nose wrinkles. “No.”

  “A strong, independent woman like you shouldn’t shy away from making the first move.”

  “That isn’t what your notes tell me.”

  Dr. Kizer laughs. “My advice is to explore desires, convey them to someone you trust, and when that someone trusts you in return, rejoice in your discoveries.”

  “It was just once,” I confess.

  “So he asked you out again?”

  Sort of.

  I nod.

  “I also don’t advise on gender-specific roles in a relationship. That’s up to the couple.”

  “But all your clients seem gender…” I’m unsure how to finish the sentence.

  “Currently, but I’ve also had client couples where the female partner is dominant and the male partner is happy to be submissive. Intimate play doesn’t always mirror real life either. In everyday life the two individuals can be completely equal partners or hold the opposite roles. There are no rules. Sometimes a couple wants a break from the reality of everyday. Role playing can provide that outlet.”

  I don’t care if that is what others want. I know after one taste, it isn’t what I want. A smile comes to my lips. “You know there are people who like vanilla ice cream, too.”

  She grins. “Is that you?”

  “No, I’m beginning to think vanilla isn’t my favorite. I’m not judging others for their choices or what they desire, but I believe I’m attracted to this man for tendencies that I didn’t perceive as submissive. Quite the contrary.”

  “Then maybe it’s better that you let him ask you for the second date.”

  “I guess I won’t know until I go.”

  “Good night, Marji. That man is lucky to have met you.”

  “Good night.”

  As the door closes, I wonder if what she said is right. I’ve never been a big believer in luck, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. Maybe I’m the lucky one. The only thing I know for certain is that no matter what happens, meeting Mr. Santana is unforgettable.

  A few minutes later, I give up on the transcription and check Dr. Kizer’s schedule for tomorrow. She’s booked solid from nine in the morning until four in the afternoon. There isn’t even a break for lunch. I make a mental note to remember to bring in something to eat. Thankfully, Fridays begin and end earlier than the rest of the week. The clock on the corner of my screen reads 7:15. While I know I should stay and try to catch up, all I can think about is what’s waiting for me at home. If I don’t leave now, I won’t get it until tomorrow.

  I recall the text I sent back to Dorothy, explaining that I would be at work all day and it would be better to have Mr. Santana’s delivery go to the community leasing office. At least I know the package arrived. I received the text message from the leasing manager letting me know I can pick it up before the office closes at 8 p.m.

  I thought about having the package delivered to Dr. Kizer’s office, but I was afraid if I did, the doctor might ask about it or even that maybe Mr. Santana could be or had once been a client.

  If that were the case, he would recognize the address.

  As it is, Dr. Kizer asked what was going on with me. Having a package would have raised more questions.

  Driving to my apartment, horns honk as I slam on the brakes avoiding a near-miss collision with the car in front of me, the one that came to a sudden stop. My vision flashes to my rearview mirror, thankful that the driver behind me is paying better attention than I.

  Damn, my mind is everywhere but on what I’m doing.

  The clock on my dashboard tells me that I have less than ten minutes to get to the leasing office. If the traffic doesn’t start to move, I won’t be able to pick up his package until tomorrow.

  What could it be?

  I’ve reread Dorothy’s text multiple times.

  * * *

 
; YOUR PRESENCE IS REQUESTED AT LACE AND LEATHER THIS FRIDAY NIGHT AT 8 P.M. MR. SANTANA WOULD LIKE TO SEND A MESSENGER WITH YOUR ATTIRE AND INSTRUCTIONS FOR THE EVENING. IF YOU AGREE TO MEET HIM ON HIS TERMS, PLEASE RESPOND WITH YOUR ADDRESS.

  * * *

  My attire and instructions.

  His terms.

  “No, Dr. Kizer,” I say aloud to my empty car. “I’m confident that the man I met isn’t harboring submissive tendencies. That would be me, your strong, independent assistant.” It is true, yet I’m not willing to admit that aloud to my employer. Even discussing it with Dorothy was uncomfortable. I suppose in a way Dr. Kizer and Dorothy have similar roles, helping others discover their hidden desires.

  I remember the couple I was watching.

  Had the man in the room next door sent attire? Had he sent a red bra and red panties that the woman forgot to wear?

  I tug on my lower lip as a warming tightness blooms within my chest.

  What if I don’t want to wear what Mr. Santana sends? What will he do?

  The thoughts conjure images of the woman’s skin, red and raised by the man’s belt.

  And then the impossible occurs to me.

  What if she did it on purpose?

  The tightening in my chest lowers, twisting my core as I fidget in the seat and weave through traffic.

  Why is it that when I’m in a hurry, I hit every red stoplight?

  The clock on my dash says 7:57 as I pull up to the leasing office.

  My heart sinks at the sight of the dark windows.

  Parking my car, I hurry to the door and reach for the knob.

  “Sorry, we’re closed.”

  I turn to see the man speaking. He’s standing by a dark blue car.

  “Do you work in there?”

  “Yes. We’ll open again at nine.”

  I exhale. “Please, I have a package that was delivered, and I will be at work tomorrow at nine. I was looking forward to getting it.” I feel my cheeks heat. “It’s a surprise.”