Against Her Will E-Book

Lizbeth Dusseau

• Herausgeber: pinkflamingo
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2006

Beschreibung

Kat Bloom is still clinging to the St. Andrews Cross, recovering from a heavy S&M scene when she is suddenly abducted from the dungeon and taken to a remote location where she finds herself, blindfolded, bound, gagged and caged. Her captor Perry Livingston will make her his slave. This is not the first time the rogue Master has abducted a female sub although he intends for Kat to be his last conquest. While Kat's on her way to permanent slavery, her roommate, the twentythree year old submissive Meredith Shaw calls her boss, Police Captain Alain Danvers, to investigate Kat's disappearance. When he shows up at the dungeon, it's obvious to Meri that Alain is no stranger to the D/s world. Although his brusque personality scares the naive Meri, the authoritarian Captain is exactly the kind of man this needy sub has been looking for to straighten out her life. While Kat Bloom suffers strict discipline and brutal punishment as she's systematically trained to serve Perry Livingston's capricious needs, roommate Meri suddenly finds herself at the beck and call of a master who knows how to push every button and make every fantasy come true. Though Alain has resisted returning to the bdsm world he once gave up, the incompetent, though very beautiful police clerk, has ignited desires he can no longer squelch. This stirring D/s novel weaves together the story of two very different submissive females. But while both are driven by forces they can neither explain or resist, Kat fights her captor at every turn, vowing not to fall under his charismatic spell as she waits for rescue; while Meri longs to be totally controlled by Alain Danvers until his lusty domination consumes her.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Title Page

Scene One

Scene Two

Scene Three

Scene Four

Scene Five

Scene Six

Scene Seven

Scene Eight

Scene Nine

Scene Ten

Scene Eleven

Scene Twelve

Scene Thirteen

Scene Fourteen

Scene Fifteen

Scene Sixteen

Scene Seventeen

Scene Eighteen

Scene Nineteen

Scene Twenty

Scene Twenty-two

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Against Her Will: The Abduction of Kat Bloom

By Lizbeth Dusseau

A Pink Flamingo Ebook Publication

Copyright © 2020, All rights reserved

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www.pinkflamingo.com

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Scene One

A Call After Midnight

Ripped from a sound sleep, Alain answered the phone with a groggy, “Danvers here.”

“Captain Danvers?” The throaty female voice seemed barely able to speak.

“Yes, this is Danvers.”

“I’m sorry to bother you so late, sir. You must have been sleeping.”

“Yes, like a baby, who is this?”

“M-Meredith, Meredith Shaw, sir. From the office,” she paused, and when he didn’t respond, went on, “there’s been an incident.”

Meredith Shaw… yes, the pretty brunette clerk in his unit. Long hair, lovely body, whimpering sort of female angst that had on more than one occasion caused his cock to engage. But not now. Not at two am.

“Incident? Where? What is this about?”

“I thought I should call you first. It’s my roommate, Kat. She’s disappeared.”

“You’re calling me in the middle of the night about a missing person?” he gruffly barked, as he ran his hand through his thick greying hair.

“No, sir. We think she’s been kidnapped from…” she suddenly stopped.

“From where?”

Her voice quavered miserably as she replied, “The X Club, sir.”

“You’re there now?” he was strangely aghast.

“Yes, sir. I think you’ll want to be here, too. I’m sure you’ll be called about this…and I could have called the station first, but I thought I should reach you now, you know the discretion thing…” she was rambling on and he wasn’t hearing very much of her confused blather, although he was finally getting his wits about him. Sitting up in bed helped.

“Is Ms. Argentine in the vicinity, Miss Shaw?”

“You know her, sir?”

“Would you just put her on the phone, please?”

There was a lot of shuffling about he could hear over the connection, as if the girl were walking. Then background voices and strange noises until he finally heard Ana Argentine’s lush, unhurried pitch.

“Alain this is Ana speaking.”

“Ana, it’s the middle of the night…why this call?”

“Been awhile, I’d say, hum?”

“No personal revelations, please, especially not in front of Miss Shaw. Why is she calling?”

“You’ll want to be here, Alain,” her tone less sumptuous now. “Kat Bloom is missing. Meredith’s roommate.”

“And what’s wrong with filing a missing person’s report?”

“The girl, the missing girl, she only took the name Kat Bloom about nine months ago when she had a falling out with her father,” Ana paused, “but I rather not say more…not over the phone. I don’t trust you or your department, not to have my place bugged. But you can trust, Captain Danvers, that your presence will be invaluable in this situation.”

“Yes, well give me a few minutes, in the meantime, try not to say too much in Miss Shaw’s presence.”

“You have my word.”

“Yes. Right.”

Meredith Shaw heard just one side of the conversation between Alain and the X-Club’s owner Ana Argentine. But her curiosity was piqued. Her boss must get around if he knew Mistress Ana by name. Maybe it was right to have called him. But he didn’t seem very happy about the situation. But then, maybe Meredith had just learned exactly what she wanted to know about the captain. Already her belly was feeling that familiar warm, squeamish rush she associated with her boss.

Even in middle age with greying hair and a ruddy face, Alain Danvers was a handsome man. Not necessarily the kind to turn a woman’s head. He was too closed, too curt for that on most occasions. But he was a man’s man sort of police captain, observant, clear thinking and decisive. Strong, broad-shouldered and direct. He could peer over his glasses with a stare to cause an underling to shrivel, or reflect his amusement with no more than the slightly raised eyebrow, and a turn of his lip. Only after a few beers, only after work on a good day, could his grim look become a real smile, or a real smile turn into a genuine laugh.

On the other hand, Alain Danvers might be perfect for a woman seeking a dominant force to mature and guide her—which was probably why Meredith Shaw thought to call him first, before she called the station to report the crime. He might also have some tact considering the current situation in which she found herself—he would have found out sooner or later about her association with the X-Club. She couldn’t hide that fact, not now. But despite the way Kat’s disappearance was going to thrust her into the proximity of her boss, this had been a bad night, a very bad night.

Kat was gone. She’d disappeared into thin air and Meredith believed that she was the only one who could have prevented that from happening.

Scene Two

One Too Many Drinks

The girl knelt on the hardwood floor in the empty room; empty except for the wire cage with the fat padlock. She was a blonde now, short, spiky hair with dark roots – in fashion for the crowd she ran with. She had been a brunette and red head – as in scarlet red hair – since he’d been tracking her various incarnations. He didn’t particularly like the severity of her current hairstyle, but that could easily be changed.

“This is how it’s gonna be, Kat Bloom, that is your name, right?” As if she could answer.

The gag prevented her from speaking – the hobble from standing, the blindfold from seeing his face. This was how it would be for a while. He was a great believer in sensory deprivation, which would take his victims down to a core level from which he could remake them to suit his needs.

“Whatever life you had has just been erased. You like slipping into oblivion, well girl, oblivion is where you’ve arrived.”

Kat could feel his body moving around her, shuffling sounds on a hardwood floor. His anxious, feral energy loomed above her, swooping in around her and, if she were telling the truth, tickling her exposed privates – she’d worn a dangerously short skirt to the club that night, no panties. But then, exhibitionists like her love the feel of air on a naked snatch. Kat had been hot all night.

If she weren’t scared out of her wits, she might actually find her current situation stimulating. But this was no ordinary BDSM scene, this no ordinary dominant man, playing master for the sport of it.

The feel of the ballgag being suddenly ripped from her mouth took her by surprise. Her head jerked, and she struggled to right herself with her hands tied tightly behind her back.

“I saw the drool. Rather unsightly, I think.” He mopped her wet mouth with a handkerchief and started circling again, feet shuffling as before.

“You are kidding, aren’t you?” she finally vented into the otherwise silent room.

He stopped directly behind her. “No. I’m not.”

His imperious eyes – she could feel them on the back of her neck – burned holes in everything from her skin to her composure. She’d make a plea bargain with God, confess every sin, swear off the life she loved – if only He would intervene.

“Please, let me go,” her whispering voice practically shouted. Everything was so quiet, so still, except for his shuffling feet. No sounds of traffic, or night birds singing or honking horns or cell phones. No street music, no conversation, no laughter, no humming computers. All absent. Except for his shuffling feet and his voice – and the anxious pounding in her body, the throbbing beat of rushing blood, the noisy discord of fear.

“Let you go… and waste my entire last two months? I guess, you didn’t hear what I said, did you? Or maybe you just didn’t believe me. But that really doesn’t matter, Kat Bloom. You’ll understand soon enough.”

“I don’t even know who you are…”

“No. You don’t. But you’ve seen me. I’m like a fly on the wall that haunts your club. The least likely candidate for master by anyone’s estimation. The fellow that lurks around the corners of your days, spies on your nights. You’ve seen me often and dismissed me, exactly as I expected you would. I didn’t want to be noticed, so I hung out in the shadows, tiptoed like an innocuous male sub, looking for some mistress’ boots to lick. Waiting. Watching. Until the opportunity for an abduction presented itself. You were there all the while…a statuesque subbie, all decked out in subbie’s garb, taking your beatings like a true submissive, though surrendering only when the mood struck your fancy, flicking off Dominant men who don’t pass muster as if they were annoying insects.” He chuckled darkly, “You’re a real piece of work, Kat Bloom.

“But…you looked so pretty to me that I couldn’t resist. Not your snapping eyes, your sexy swagger, your seductive voice.”

“That isn’t me! That’s just a game I play! Please, let me go.”

“Please, sir, let me go!”

“Please, sir,let me go!” she recited with the proper emphasis, hopefully.

Her black leather skirt was so tight that when kneeling, it rode right up her thighs and exposed her dampening pussy. Boy, did it glisten in the soft spotlight that shown down from above. The lacy halter clung to her breasts so tightly that her nipples stuck out like bullets. Spike heels – again her choice – pushed her well over six feet tall when she was standing. Now, tucked tight under her ass, the heels almost looked like daggers.

He’d covered her head with a hood at the time of the abduction, then added the collar after he shoved her into the back of the rented Chevy. She’d been in the playroom with Sir Guy for nearly an hour and was like formless putty when the master left her on the cross to fetch her a drink of water. All he had to do was release the clips, gather her into his arms, and carry her out the back door.

No one saw them leave, and by the time she noticed something was wrong, she was in the car, bound, gagged and weaving through traffic.

She must have still been numb when he carried her from the car into the barn and up to the second floor loft into the room that would become her home. The tethers that roped her ankles and wrists remained when he set her on the floor beneath the spotlight. He’d chosen thick, scratchy hemp because he liked the look, just as he liked the look of a kneeling woman. If he entertained any notion that Kat Bloom was a ready, willing submissive, then he’d be a fool. That would take time. A challenge? Yes. Doable? About this, he had no doubt. He’d accomplished the feat before.

“Let you go…not until I’m finished with you.”

“You can’t be doing this…it’s about my father, isn’t it? You want his money…a ransom… that’s it—”

He cut her off. “That would be easy for you, wouldn’t it? Sadly, my dear, it’s not about money. I have all that I could ever want and need and possibly spend. This is all about you…you and me.”

He crouched down on one knee and gently cupped her face in his hand, feeling the moisture from her tears leaking out from under the blindfold. He tenderly wiped it away with his thumb, and for just a moment could feel her relent, as if her body wanted to surrender to his scheme.

She’d been drunk – almost literally – downing three stiff ones before she even entered the X-Club that night. This wasn’t normal. She normally didn’t drink before she partied on pain. Not that the two were exclusive of one another, but she usually figured that even sober, she could get enough endorphins flowing to give her a lasting high without the complications of alcohol.

Now her stomach had soured, probably as much from fear as the gin.

And her captor’s hand on her cheek only confused her fuzzy mind even more.

He didn’t want money, he wanted her…was that really true? Talking as if she’d been set up for months…who was he?

The queasy feeling in her stomach grew. He’d stalked her, chosen her from dozens of other likely subs, for what?

“You will let me go.”

“No, Kat,” he said. She could mentally see him shaking his head, “You belong to me now.”

She turned her face away from the gently fondling hand and prayed.

Scene Three

In The Palm of His Hand

Alain Danvers moved brusquely into the X-Club, letting his eyes survey the dimly lit S&M lounge, while feeling a familiar titter of excitement and revulsion surface. He couldn’t remember when he’d last been in a place like this and he wasn’t too happy about being there now. Too many past associations. An air of darkness seemed appropriate for the nasty activities of a club like this; the ambiance of chains, the smell of leather and burning incense, and heavy metal music with a good strong beat. His flogging arm reflexively began to twitch, but his quick perusal of the club was dampened by the lack of anonymity his official looking presence produced. He’d managed to climb back into yesterday’s suit and had tossed on his tan raincoat to fend off the cold drizzle and late night winds. He stood inside the X-Club posing a stark contrast to the present clientele.

The place was crawling with curious subs and Doms and switches, most dressed in some rendition of fetish attire. He could well imagine that the mood of the night had been broken by the girl’s disappearance. Everyone seemed to be milling about now with little to do, waiting – perhaps waiting for his arrival as the next chapter of this drama unfolded before their eyes.

Seeing neither Meredith nor Ana he turned toward the nearest observing female – obviously a Domme, who took a moment to scrutinize him as if she were inspecting her next victim.

“I’m looking for Ana Argentine—” he stated calmly with an official ring to his voice.

“Right here, Alain!” Ana’s deliciously rasping voice suddenly called to him from the far side of the room.

He nodded to the female, who hadn’t bothered to respond, and strode to Ana’s side, fending off the woman’s customary and affectionate hug. Every eye in the place sought them out, while for a moment the tableau of kinky characters froze with their eyes glued to the scene between the police captain and the Grand Dame of their private dungeon.

To avoid their further scrutiny, Ana waved off her minions, and the two moved directly into Ana’s office, which was tucked behind a Japanese screen – a half office, half boudoir, furnished with the gaudy elegance required by Ana Argentine’s over-the-top persona. Lots of gold, black, splashes of red and vibrant scarves, definitely Oriental in style, except for her collection of vintage and modern whips displayed on the entire length of one wall.

“Sorry about that,” she purred, “everything is a mess here. We’re all in a fit about poor Kat. She’d been a regular here for months, and suddenly poof! She’s gone.” Even the normally serene Ana looked rattled.

“How do you mean gone? Isn’t it possible that she just went home?”

Ana sighed, moving to her chaise while grabbing a sifter of brandy from the nearby table. “You care to join me?” she said, lifting the glass.

“No, thanks. I’d really like to get the facts together so that we can all go home.”

“I don’t think anyone’s racing to the door just yet,” she laughed.

“But your customers will stay here. I’ll need to speak with them all before they are free to go.”

“Of course. They’ll do whatever they can. Kat was very well liked. This is all like a bad nightmare, isn’t it?”

“And you’re sure that she just didn’t decide to leave for the night?”

“She was on the cross, Alain,” Ana said, after taking a generous sip of her drink, “taking a hard scene from Sir Guy. After he finished, he let her drift for a while, and went for something to drink. The room was closed, and other than Kat, was empty. When Guy returned, not more than two minutes later, she was gone. The back door – which is normally locked – was wide open. It would have been easy for a kidnapper to escape into the hall and run out the rear door with no one seeing. At the time, there was a suspension demonstration going on in the main room.”

“Could she have left on her own?” Alain wondered.

“Not when she was still bound, you should know that much.”

“Right.” He pursed his lips, thinking. “And you say this Kat Bloom is…who?”

“Sally Proctor,” she practically whispered the name as if even the sound of it was verboten, “daughter of Loren and Liddy Proctor.”

“Oh, my…” He remembered the uproar in the gossip sheets for weeks when the girl disappeared, only to find that she’d taken off on her own after a private war with daddy. She was nearly front-page news until another breaking scandal took the public’s attention. For all anyone knew, Sally Proctor faded back into the obscurity of her rebellion. Alain would only have known about the incident because events in the life of Liddy Emmett Proctor occasionally drew his attention. He’d dated her in college – but she was far too manipulative for his taste even though she was a remarkable lover.

“So, your little clique here knows her background?”

“You don’t need to sound so derisive, Alain.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to be.”

“Kat’s parents were certainly no secret to anyone. But I don’t think she talked about her family much. She was happy to be free of them. When she finally cut those rubber apron strings and declared she was never going back, she was serious. She wanted nothing more to do with them or their money, and legally changed her name.” She sighed again, after another gulp of brandy, heavy thoughts weighing her down. “You know her disappearance is going to hit the papers…everyone’s going to know about my dungeon…and I’m…”

“More than a little worried?”

She was. But as usual, Ana put on a good face. “I’m not looking for another round of attacks on my moral character, but I’ve lived through it before. And I can handle a little press if I have to. I run a tight ship here. You know that. I have all the disclaimers, disclosures and signed waivers on file. I keep records, I pay my taxes, and there’s nothing illicit going on, no drugs, no prostitution. You ought to know that, I’ve been raided enough times.”

“And thanks to me that stopped.”

She nodded, but she was hardly pleased; it was an old wound that still festered given the right provocation.

“So, we can look at a possible ransom,” Alain surmised.

“Very likely. Or…” Ana’s face darkened, her worry lines thickening. She was still beautiful but stress aged her fast.

“Or what?”

“I don’t know…I have this strange vibe…I haven’t felt it in years. It’s almost like I’m back eight years ago…when Natalie was taken from me.”

“You’re thinking Perry Livingston?”

She smiled. “You always did know my mind.”

“More than I wanted to, Ana.” He smiled, but his brief amusement faded. “We all thought Perry had disappeared for good.”

“Yes, I thought he was gone for good, too…” she evasively retorted. “Funny, how easily men can screw up a good thing. Just can’t seem to keep their dicks under control.”

“Ana, don’t dismiss my questions with your mistress crap. A girl is missing; you think it might be Perry Livingston’s handiwork. Why would that be?”

“Because, I heard from Natalie six months ago,” she blurted out through thinly disguised anger.

“Did you now?”

“He freed her.”

His eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.

“I saw her, Alain. Sure, she’d aged some, but it was definitely Natalie, as beautiful as ever, and so calm, so self-assured.”

“She never lacked for that. Did she know where Perry was?”

Ana’s longing for her former sub seemed as fresh now as the day Natalie disappeared. Now it was just an unrequited dream.

“No. And I pressed her hard on that. The man did me a great deal of harm. But she absolutely refused to give him up. She wouldn’t even talk about her captivity. I wanted the explanations I’d waited eight years to finally hear, but I got nothing. Nothing,” she bitterly repeated. “For all I know she’d been to Club Med for perverts the last eight years, and was now born again vanilla. She has a great job at a Baltimore advertising firm, an apartment, friends and no interest in turning back the pages, resuming our former relationship. She didn’t say one word about Perry Livingston or where she was being held. It was almost as if she were deliberately keeping the man’s secrets, just in case he came back and abducted her again.”

“So why do you suppose she contacted you?”

“Hum,” she mused, “I imagine she still has some affection toward me, and letting me know she was all right was the right thing to do. But that is all that she intended to communicate. I’m not sure how she managed to slip through Perry’s fingers, but I’m glad she did, not that he is necessarily suffering because of it. And now…Kat suddenly gone? The circumstances are very different, but the feeling is strangely the same.” Her eyes moistened.

It wasn’t that Alain was not a feeling sort of man, he was. But tenderness and compassion were not easy for him to convey, especially when he was on a case and the case came first.

“I’ll need to see the room, Ana,” he finally prompted her.

She seemed relieved to be quitting her emotions. “Yes, certainly. I’ll show you the way.” She moved off the chaise and the two turned toward the door, seeing – much to their surprise – Meredith Shaw standing right where they needed to go.

“Ms. Shaw!” Alain exclaimed, while taking a moment to appraise the lovely young woman who seemed so out of place in this setting. “You’ve been listening in?”

“No, sir, not really, I mean, I was only here so that I might help…” again she stumbled over her words, a regular habit for the timid young woman. She now looked quite contrite, in a vulnerable female sort of way, being obviously embarrassed to find herself in this situation, facing her boss, while dressed in the clothes of a lifestyle submissive – leather skirt, lacy black stockings, spike heels, and the complimentary black leather collar and cuffs. Her chest was fully covered by a black leather bomber jacket, an attempt at modesty, Alain had to assume, given the compromising circumstances that brought the two together in this unlikely place. While Alain would have loved to have seen the treasure beneath that jacket, his professionalism required he ignore his physical response to the brunette beauty. The Meredith Shaw that worked in Detective Danvers’ unit normally gathered her unruly sable-brown hair into a ponytail, and wore just a bit of blush on her cheeks, pale lipstick, and nothing to enhance the intensely smoky quality of her dark eyes. That particular Meredith Shaw exhibited none of the sophisticated trappings that she so evocatively displayed now. Although, neither version of this intriguing female was able to hide her withering, innately submissive, highly self-conscious personality; the one that stumbled over simple sentences, blushed at the very least provocation and looked as though she was about to cry if reprimanded.

Seeing her now, Alain barely overcame his visceral response, but he did.

“Meri, you should know better than to eavesdrop,” Ana snapped, while barging through the door and forcing the young woman back.

Alain followed, his expression purposely grim. “Don’t leave. I’ll need to speak with you.”

“Yes, sir.” Her plaintive expression affected him entirely too much, but again his feelings had to be set aside; he had no use for a twenty-three year old shrinking violet, no matter how lovely she was.

A careful inspection of the playroom from which Kat Bloom was taken yielded very little concrete evidence. However, Perry Livingston’s signature appeared in the ethers, in the slick getaway, and the apparent subterfuge that allowed someone to pick the sturdy padlock on the far door and escape the building unseen with a deliriously orgasmic woman in his arms. Perry Livingston was a thief, a con artist and a master of schemes to deceive his opponents and the authorities. He was also rumored to be a dominant sexual master who’d trafficked in female slaves he handpicked for wealthy buyers. There was no hard evidence that he’d perpetrated such acts, but rumors abounded. In fact, he’d become a bit of an urban legend, while comfortably hiding away in an undisclosed location for at least the last eight years.

The reappearance of Natalie Moon might call into question some of the myth surrounding the man, but given the fact that the woman wasn’t talking, at least according to Ana Argentine, Alain was unsure how much he’d be able to glean from that source.

Once finished with his inspection of the playroom, Alain moved back to the club’s lounge and found Meredith sitting at the side of the main room, hugging her chest and staring down at the floor.

“Miss Shaw,” he gently prodded her.

“Oh, sir!” she popped to her feet. “I didn’t see you coming.”

“You can sit back down; I have a few questions to ask.”

“Yes, I knew you would.”

He smiled deferentially, as he would to any witness. “Were you present during the scene between Sir Guy and Kat Bloom?”

“I was for part of it.”

“Was Sir Guy someone Kat normally spent time with?”

“On a couple of occasions. He used knives, which was a particular favorite of hers. Nothing really dangerous, though.”

“And you’d say that she enjoyed herself?”

“Oh, yes,” she suppressed a giggle. “She liked to take chances, and Sir Guy is sort of sexy…” Her face reddened. “Let’s just say that they were having a very good scene…”

“Something serious between them?”

“Oh, not at all. She would have blown him off…I mean if she hadn’t disappeared.”

“I see.” He looked about the lounge as if hunting for clues, then turned back. “Has there been anyone unusual at the club recently, any suspicious looking newcomer? Someone who doesn’t belong?”

“Hum. I don’t know,” she pursed her lips and drew in her brows, thinking hard. “You know there are always a number of men, subs mainly, who just sort of hang around, hoping one of the Domme’s will notice them. It’s a game they play, I think. Dominant males and submissive females are much more direct in their interaction.”

After delivering that opinion, Meredith caught Alain staring at her quite intently, and she sat back squirming in a self-conscious stew.

“And you’ve been part of this scene for how long?”

“About two years.” Her eyes broadened, unveiling a greenish hue that Alain had never noticed before. He’d never taken the time to study the young woman as he did now. “You aren’t going to say anything about this to anyone, are you?”

“No. I wouldn’t have cause. But as her roommate…Ms. Bloom was your roommate?”

“Yes, sir. For the last nine months.”

“Well, as the roommate of Loren Proctor’s daughter, your association with the X-Club might well be divulged if her disappearance should hit the papers. I can’t do anything about that.”

“I really hope this won’t endanger my job?”

“It shouldn’t. But I would stay clear of your fetish for the time being. Things will certainly die down in time, but until then, you might want to develop a thicker skin. You never know what’s going to end up in print once this story breaks.”

Her distress was visible, looking as if a full-blown panic was about to erupt, but instead she managed to contain herself, and simply fidgeted more nervously than was usual.

“So tell me about Kat. Anything you think might be pertinent to the investigation.”

“Well…she’s kind of hard to pin down. I know she’d made a career of being rebellious…who wouldn’t with her pushy parents. They were always nosing about her business and she hated that. I liked her though. She spoke her mind. She wasn’t afraid to do daring things. She had her own kind of style.”

“As in?”

“Oh, she shopped at thrift stories – never bought anything new. Her clothes were funky: hats, boots, lace camisoles, tights, short skirts, long skirts, she threw things together and they always fit. She worked at The Mermaid, which figures.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know that store.”

Of course, he wouldn’t, Alain was a regular “Mr. Burberry.”

“It’s a third world import store, clothes, incense, books, Far-eastern music, candles, that sort of thing. She tried going vegan, but settled for a compromised vegetarian.”

“Sorry, I don’t get that…compromised?”

“She’d diet on tofu and noodles for days, then treat herself at the Payton Grill and eat a thick steak almost once a week. Although she refused to go inside the restaurant. They probably wouldn’t have let her, the way she looked. But she knew the chef. The two would eat in the alley outside while he was on break. She called Lance her one romance.”

“So, the chef Lance was someone special?”

“No. Never. Kat didn’t have anyone special. She had lots of people. She loved everyone. I think she even loved her parents, but she didn’t want to be around anyone who told her what to do.”

“Yet here, at the X-Club, she was submissive?” He looked doubtful.

“It was just a game. The pain was penance. The mystery was a big high. I’ll never understand her for as long as I live, but I loved her dearly and I really hope nothing bad has happened to her.”

“Perhaps there was someone at the club she might have pissed off? Anyone with a grudge? Shunned lovers? An angry Dom?”