Services Rendered Diana Hunter This book is loosely tied to characters from Secret Submission and Submission Revealed.
Recently back from Iraq, Lauren Carr is still trying to put her life together. Her best friend sets her up on a date with an incredibly sexy man who promises to tie her down and make love to her all night long. His offer intrigues her, piques her interest in the submissive lifestyle she’s so curious about. This strong, dominant man might be just what she needs. John McAllen is an ex-Marine who has put his demons to rest. He has a successful career and friends who share his kink. The beautiful Lauren, who was so capable in a crisis, turns out to have PTSD. In spite of his desire, he isn’t sure he wants to deal with her damaged psyche. He needs a woman who can submit to his control, to his passion for ropes and chains and floggers. To his every sexual demand.
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com Services Rendered ISBN 9781419934773 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Services Rendered Copyright © 2011 Diana Hunter Edited by Pamela Campbell Cover art by Syneca Electronic book publication August 2011 The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book. The publisher does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for, author or third-party Web sites or their content.
SERVICES R ENDERED Diana Hunter
Dedication This book is dedicated to the men and women of the Armed Forces of the United States. Thank you for your service.
Acknowledgements I need to give a special “thank you” to Averill Bauder for sharing his expertise in the firing of Civil War cannons. His knowledge brought life to the Civil War reenactment scenes. And another special thanks to Tara Nina, who told me a story one time…
Author Note In the world of fantasy anything goes, but in reality, remember to always practice safe sex.
Diana Hunter
Prologue The dusty street, hot in the mid-afternoon sun, lay bare and empty. From some corner of hell, a hot breeze blew sand in small devils along the few spaces between the crowded buildings. Nothing else stirred. Not even the dozen men standing alert in their hiding places, their khaki camouflage sticking to their sweaty bodies, their hands slippery on their gunstocks. An errant fly buzzed each in turn, yet not one of them moved. The low murmur of voices drifted on the breeze from inside the least squalid hut that squeezed itself onto the street. And still the twelve waited, breathing in sand and heat, the strange cinnamon scent of the desert barely noticed. The voices in the hut rose as if in anger and one of the twelve nodded just once to a soldier on the other side of the street. Slowly lifting his hand, he held out three fingers, then two, then one and pointed toward the door. The first two soldiers slid through the curtained doorway, knowing, from previous visits by spies, the layout of the narrow hut. A hall led directly from the door to the open courtyard behind. A room immediately to their right, another behind it. At this time of day, their quarry would be in the second room. The second pair followed closely, peeling off to take position in the first room. They would wait and make sure none escaped into the street. Two others would remain outside for the same reason while the remaining six guarded the entrances to the street. The first two paused at the curtain that closed off the second room. The men in the room argued loudly now, the Arabic words sounding like so much gibberish to all but one of the twelve. The other soldiers spoke only English with smatterings of high school Spanish and French. Only the leader had studied the language of the people whose land he’d be helping to rebuild. Only the leader understood the terrible action the men discussed so heatedly. And for that, he gave thanks. He knew his men. If they understood the depth of the plot they were about to foil, there would be blood spilled. That, however, was not their job. They were simply to arrest these men, not to act as judge and jury. There had been enough of that in this desert land already. His men in place, he nodded once more. They knew the plan. He and another would enter the room, the two behind him would go through to secure the courtyard and the two just outside would enter only as backup if needed. Their attack, swift and silent, took the inhabitants by surprise. “We are Americans,” he shouted in Arabic over their noise. “You are under arrest. Put your hands in the air.”
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In an ideal world, the men who plotted murder would have done as he told them. They would’ve risen from the pillows on which they sat and gone along peacefully, accepting that they’d been caught. Except no ideal world existed in Iraq. On the far side of the room, a man raised a machine gun. Without hesitation, the leader fired, killing the Iraqi. One of the men sitting on the floor leapt up, pushing his gun up and out of the way with one hand and pulling a knife with the other. Twisting away, the leader brought his gun barrel down on the man’s head, sending him spinning away. More shots filled the air as the men on both sides shouted their anger. Gunfire erupted outside the room too. Damn the intelligence. There were only supposed to be three men inside, instead there were nearly a dozen. And there were obviously men in the courtyard, all armed better than the military had been led to believe. He’d led his men into a trap.
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Chapter One John McAllen lay face up in the field, his open eyes staring at the cloudless blue above, trying to remember just why he had decided to die so early. The sun beat down, turning his wool uniform into an oven that slowly baked him all the way through to his spine. Ants had found his shirtsleeve and even now paraded along his arm, enjoying the shade and tickling his skin with their tiny legs. But he wouldn’t move. That was part of the deal. Once you were dead, you didn’t get to move. Shots came from his right, yet he resisted the urge to look. Didn’t matter who was winning the battle. Didn’t matter who fell or who managed to walk away at the end of the hour. The enemy had found its mark in him and all he could do now was lie in the sun and cook. A welcome shadow fell over him, ostensibly checking for a pulse. Will Bondman, his brother-in-arms in more ways than one. John said nothing, per the rules of the dead, as Will whispered to him, “You should’ve fallen facedown. You’re gonna get sunburned.” John glared at him and remained still. “I can roll you over, if you want.” “Don’t you have a battle to fight?” John risked the words between barely moving lips. “Action’s moved into the woods. Thought I’d check on a newbie reenactor first. But if you don’t want my help…” “Turn me over.” Hiding a grin, Will turned over John’s blue-clad “dead” body then hefted his heavy, antique Springfield rifle as he stood. “You’ll learn,” was all he said before John heard him drift away, heading toward the trees and the action.
***** Lauren Carr watched the “battle” below with a mixture of boredom and disgust. These play soldiers cavorted around beautiful fields belonging to the Genesee Country Museum, pretending they were teaching history to the tourists who paused in their trek around the re-created Victorian town, when in reality they just made a mockery of what real soldiers lived and died doing every day. War was too real for her to stand and watch it played at. She’d been home only two months and that wasn’t enough time for her to forget what she’d seen. Hell, two years wouldn’t be enough.
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“Aunt Lauren, look at that dead man. One guy rolled him over, but he didn’t move hardly at all. Do you think he’s really dead?” Lauren looked down at her eight-year-old nephew and fervently hoped he would never have a need to enlist in any branch of the military. She’d seen enough action for both of them. The boy’s dark hair, tousled by a breeze that popped up from nowhere, framed eyes wide with concern. Lauren smiled and put her arm around his shoulders. “No, Ian, he’s not really dead. It’s just for show.” She looked out at the man her nephew indicated. True, he looked more realistically dead than several others who lay scattered like beached blue whales. At the irreverent thought, she hid her grin, lest Ian think she made fun of the action he watched so intently. Maybe it is a good thing he takes it seriously, she thought as the soldiers in blue moved back into the field, obviously in retreat. This action supposedly represented the battle of Antietam, but from what she could tell, the flat field with the gazebo in the middle and a tree line at the far end that barely hid the museum’s town buildings on the other side didn’t look anything like the real fields in West Virginia where so many men had lost their lives. If Ian understood that people really died in war, and that their deaths were not pretty in any way, then standing on this hill overlooking the re-creation and watching this absurdity might just be worth it. A trumpet sounded some unfamiliar notes and the soldiers on both sides dropped their weapons to their sides. A man with a microphone stood up in the gazebo and explained to the audience that the battle had ended and any weapons with gunpowder still in them would be discharged. This was followed by several pops and puffs of smoke as rifles were fired into the air. The sound had a higher pitch than the rifles she was used to. And quieter. Battles in the past had definitely been quieter. But then the cannon let loose and she reacted instinctively, falling into a crouching position and dragging Ian down with her. Out on the field a white ring of smoke wavered its lazy way across the open area and the dead rose from their positions. “Aunt Lauren?” “Lauren?” With an effort, Lauren refocused on the present. Her nephew looked up at her with eyes wide with confusion while Beth, her best friend, looked on with concern. “It’s okay, Ian. Took me by surprise, that’s all.” She straightened, ignoring the stares of the people nearby. Out on the field the dead men rose to rejoin their companies and once again Lauren wondered just what lesson Ian would take from this. Would he think war was just a game and you went home after it was all done? Or would he remember his concern when the one soldier didn’t move for such a long time? She prayed he would never feel the panic for those long seconds when you didn’t know for sure, or feel the struggle to breathe when death still hovered in the room and you had to close your eyes against the living. “There’s a man selling ice cream. Can we get one, Aunt Lauren? C’mon, can we?”
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Lauren gave herself a mental shake and grinned at her nephew. “I don’t know, what do you think, Beth? Think it’ll spoil his dinner?” Beth laughed and pushed a stroller toward her. Inside nestled the cutest little baby girl Lauren had ever seen, not that she had much in the way of experience. Beth had given birth two weeks after Lauren’s discharge from the Army and homecoming. In fact, Lauren had been with Beth when she’d gone into labor. Paul had met them at the hospital and Lauren had graciously moved to the side to let others take center stage, a place she relinquished willingly. Now the baby squealed and Lauren laughed. “Apparently Emily wants ice cream too.” Beth shook her head. “Emily wants something considerably warmer than ice cream. Come on, let’s find some shade to sit in and I’ll feed the little bugger.” Several soldiers swarmed around the cart at the top of the hill, getting drinks to cool themselves down after the thirsty work of battle. Lauren knew their presence pulled Ian in that direction just as much as the thought of an ice-cream cone. She smiled—she wouldn’t say no to mint chocolate chip right about now. A large oak provided plenty of shade and several families had already found comfortable spots underneath it. The mingling of the past and present made her thoughtful. Weekend warriors of a bygone era mingled freely with kids in shorts and T-shirts. A teenage girl, obviously in her rebellious phase, sat with her back to her family, earbuds firmly in place even as she licked a chocolate ice-cream cone and watched a handsome boy in a too-large gray uniform saunter past her for the third time. The sight made Lauren smile. Some things never changed. Down on the field below several soldiers stood in a group, looking as if they were having an argument. Ian fidgeted and pulled on Lauren’s hand. “How much longer, Aunt Lauren?” “A few minutes,” she told him, looking at the long line. Her gaze returned to the group of men in the field, who started walking away from the hill where she stood, the group still engaged in heated debate. What could they be so passionate about? Not the outcome of the battle—that had been written in blood over a century ago. The sight of the man going down caught her attention before she heard his pained cry. Twisted ankle? Out of habit, she glanced around, taking stock, alert and ready should he need medical assistance. The knot in her belly released as soon as she remembered there were no enemy hiding behind the bushes here. She could get to him without coming under fire. The loud sounds of real pain came across the field and Lauren made a quick decision. She called her instructions over her shoulder to Beth even as she moved away from the ice-cream line. “Take Ian. I’m on this.” Lauren sprinted down the hill, hoping these play soldiers had the sense to have a good med kit nearby. No one else moved with her, although the tourists at the top of the hill quieted, their attention caught by the real-life drama apparently unfolding. The
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men who’d been walking together across the field had formed a circle around the injured man and Lauren pushed her way through them. A soldier in blue lay clutching his knee, giving vent to his pain in grunts and groans rather than words. The pants leg had already been ripped aside and the sun glinted on the white bone that never should have seen daylight. Blood pumped out of the hole around it in a regular rhythm and Lauren knew from experience that there wasn’t much time. “Put the pressure on, stop that blood now.” No one could mistake the commanding tone in that voice. Lauren realized the order came from the soldier whose fingers explored the rest of the leg, checking for other breaks in the bones. His hands were skillful and knowledgeable as he felt along the leg and moved down to the injured man’s foot. The same couldn’t be said for the man who tried to stop the bleeding. His fingers grew slick with blood as he tried to wrap his hands around the man’s thigh. “Dammit, find the femoral artery and choke it off.” Lauren shook her head. Obviously the man had no idea where that was. There wasn’t any time. If she didn’t act soon, the man would bleed to death. Already his grunts were turning to soft moans. She knelt and batted the man’s hands away then ripped the fabric all the way up to the groin. Using her fingers to find the right spot, she pressed down hard with her thumbs while keeping an eye on the blood flow. Immediately it slowed and, after a moment, stopped. She didn’t think the soldier giving commands even looked up to notice her. The brim of his kepi hat shielded his face so she couldn’t get a good look at him yet she thought this was the same soldier who had “died” and upset Ian so much. Dead or not, she couldn’t deny the sureness of his hands as he gently pulled the tissue and muscle back to peer inside the leg. “Paramedics that were here had to go out on another call. Won’t get back for half an hour.” “Shit, we don’t have a half hour. We need a chopper. Now.” The kepi-hat soldier barked the order without looking up. Another voice called out. “I got 9-1-1, I’ll tell ’em.” Lauren didn’t look up. Half an hour? This guy wasn’t going to last half that time if they didn’t get him stabilized. She held on to the clamped artery with her hands, worried about lasting until the EMTs arrived. Blood puddled in the joint where she kept the pressure steady and threatened to make things slippery. While her hands weren’t cramping yet, they certainly would be soon. Besides which, the longer they kept the blood supply cut off, the greater the chance the man would lose his leg. And all because of one careless misstep into the gopher hole that gaped beside her, the long grass that covered it now matted with blood.
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The soldier who’d been checking out the wound now sat back on his heels. “It needs to be immobilized. But we’ve got to get that bleeding stopped first. We can’t wait.” He looked up at the other soldiers still forming a circle around their comrade. “You and you, hold his shoulders.” He pointed at the man who had initially tried to stop the flow of blood and one other. The men nodded and took position where he indicated. The men followed his orders as if he were their commanding officer. Yet he was the one who had died within five minutes of the battle’s beginning, she was sure of that now. “Take off his gear and lay him down flat. And one of you get a pulse rate.” Lauren adjusted her grip as the soldiers moved the man. They took off his rifle and the white bullet bag as well as a canteen and some other stuff Lauren didn’t understand the purpose of. Through it all, not so much as a drop of blood slipped past her fingers. The man under her hands had gone quiet now and she saw him shiver even though the sun beat down as if to roast them all. He was going into shock. She gave an order of her own. “Put your coats over him. Keep him warm.” For the first time, the soldier at the man’s feet looked straight at Lauren. His eyes bored into hers as if taking her measure. She’d seen the look hundreds of times before. How many times did she need to prove herself? How many doctors would judge her worthiness? She returned his gaze, lifting her chin in an unconscious challenge. He gave her a nod and a warning. “Keep that pressure up.” “I’m steady.” Lauren resisted the urge to shake her head to rid herself of the sudden flashes of other fields, of other broken legs and arms. IEDs did more damage than gopher holes. She could handle this. “Cut the strap on that canteen. Will, hand me his bedroll and the leather strap he used to hold it on.” Lauren concentrated on her task but understood what the soldier intended to do. She nodded her approval, even though he never looked at her. “Shouldn’t we put a tourniquet on him to stop the bleeding?” She drew a breath to answer, but the soldier at the man’s feet was faster. “No, let the pros do that. We just need to keep him from going into shock. His hands deftly positioned the wool blanket around the wound. “Hold this,” he instructed a man on his right who gingerly held the blanket in place. Skillfully winding the straps around the blanket, the soldier successfully immobilized the leg. The whirl of the helicopter blades made her shiver. Lauren would’ve covered her ears against the deafening noise as it landed on the other side of the field but her hands were occupied. She bent her head against the wind but didn’t dare close her eyes. Too many memories lurked not far enough beneath the surface.
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The clank of a metal gurney being dropped beside her made her jump, but she didn’t remove her hands. The man under her fingers was not out of the woods. He’d lost a lot of blood and would lose more if she let go. A flash of uniform beside her told her the paramedics had arrived. The doctor/soldier greeted them with information. “Good to see you guys. Pulse is…” The soldier pointed to the man he’d put in charge of getting that information. “Fifty-six, sir.” “Broken femur, compound fracture. Bones are now in place but the femoral artery is compromised. Definitely not entirely severed, however.” One of them murmured, “Good work,” as the two of them set to getting their own data. A blood pressure cuff was placed around one arm even as the other set out the materials they’d need. “What about you, miss? How much longer can you keep up the pressure?” Lauren was beginning to wonder that herself. “A few minutes more, I think.” “Good. Let me get this ready then Josh’ll put a tourniquet around his leg.” She nodded, her arms suddenly very tired. True to his word, the paramedics were ready in hardly any time at all. The one called Josh applied a pressure-adjustable tourniquet around the man’s thigh. “Hold on and slowly release when I tell you to,” he told her. Quickly he tightened the clamp then nodded to Lauren and she watched for a flow of blood as she released her grip. But nothing got past the tourniquet and she stood and backed up, flexing her sore hands and letting the paramedics do their jobs. The soldiers moved back, giving the paramedics the room they needed to work, but when asked, several lifted him onto the metal frame. They waited patiently as the paramedics strapped their comrade to the board then helped carry the litter up the hill to the waiting helicopter. Lauren watched it all in detached silence. Someone gave her a wet cloth to wipe the blood off her hands. She used it without looking, being sure to rub the cloth hard over every surface of her hands and arms. Concentrating on the spire of the Victorian church she could see on the other side of the trees helped keep her in the present, but Lauren knew she would have nightmares tonight. A police officer came over and asked for her version of what had happened for the accident report, but Lauren didn’t have much to say. No, she hadn’t seen him fall, she’d only heard him cry out. No, she didn’t know his name or the names of any of the other soldiers for that matter. Yes, she was a trained nurse. No, she did not currently have a job. The officer didn’t ask why and she didn’t volunteer. How could she ever go back after what she’d been through? Through it all she remained very conscious of the solder/doctor going through the same drill with a different officer. She couldn’t hear his responses, but his bearing said it all. His broad shoulders remained square, his strong hands accepted a towel with ease
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and tossed it into the red bag with nonchalance. Saving a man’s life was all part of a normal day for him. “That was cool, Aunt Lauren. You saved that man’s life! Beth told me so!” Ian came bounding up, followed by Beth pushing the stroller. The baby looked sated and Ian’s face sported the remains of a chocolate ice-cream cone all over his cheeks. Lauren took the wet wipe Beth offered and bent down to clean him up, her smile tighter than she wanted it to be. “Beth exaggerates.” “Is he gonna be all right? He looked awfully white when they put him on the stretcher.” He spoke with the authority of an eight-year-old who thinks he knows everything. “He’s going to need some blood transfusions, I suspect. But yes, I think he’s going to be okay.” “He’s gonna need blood ’cause you’re wearing a bunch of his.” Ian’s voice was matter-of-fact, but Lauren looked down in a panic. He was right, her shirt and shorts were spotted with bloodstains turning dark in the sunlight. Beth handed her another wipe and Lauren dabbed at the worst of it, already knowing she’d throw these clothes away as soon as she possibly could. Beth handed her another wipe, concern in her eyes. “What about you?” she prodded. Few knew of the nightmares that plagued Lauren since her return. Beth, however, was her best friend and Lauren confided much to her. Perhaps too much, she thought now as she saw the mothering side of her friend come front and center. “I’m fine,” she hastened to reassure them. “Not a scratch on me!” “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Lauren cut off her retort as she noticed the soldier/doctor coming toward them. He held his cap in one hand and had his wool jacket thrown over one arm. For the first time, she got a full look at the face of the man who stepped into a crisis without a qualm, who ordered the men around him with innate authority, who most probably saved the man’s leg with his quick actions, and her breath caught. Irritated, she pushed down the reaction and studied him as he strode to where they stood. His buzz cut was considerably shorter than all the other reenactors’ hairstyles. He also wore a close-shaved goatee instead of a full beard. Of course, that drew her attention to his lips and idly she wondered what kind of kisser a man with a goatee might be. Lauren became acutely aware of his height as he drew closer. Somehow down on the battlefield she’d thought him near her own stature, but now realized he stood a head taller than her own five-foot-four frame. In fact, the man was huge. Body-builder huge. Huge as in over six feet tall with shoulders wide enough to land a plane on. The summer heat made his cotton shirt stick to his skin in all the right places. On him, rather than look obscene, the blood spatters gave him a dangerous air. In spite of her intent to remain coolly aloof, his eyes were so piercingly blue, his gaze so intimate, she quickly looked away lest he see the problems she took such pains to hide. 14
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John flashed a tight smile to the woman with the stroller and the kid he assumed to be her son as he approached the small group. The boy grinned back at him with something close to idol worship so he sent him a wink before turning to the woman the kid had called “aunt”. Now that the moment of crisis had passed, he paused to take a good, long look at the woman who hadn’t flinched at the sight of blood and who so competently followed his orders. She stood maybe a foot shorter than him, but that was pretty normal. He tended to look at the tops of heads a lot. Being a little over six-three gave him some advantages in views, both out and down. The woman’s T-shirt clung quite nicely to her curves, although the blood spatters dampened his more lustful thoughts. Still, the woman had ample breasts that stretched that knit material quite nicely. He was just getting around to noticing the blend of colors in her auburn hair when she turned those dark eyes toward him. John felt a small shock—he’d expected the competence and hoped for the interest, but the haunted, tired look that lurked behind the first two surprised him. This woman had issues. The red flags went up and his greeting became cordial instead of warm and inviting. “I just wanted to say thank you for your help.” She put out her hand in greeting and John took it, accepting her firm grip as a matter of course. “You did good work down there. Not the first bone you’ve handled.” Her voice had a musical quality to it that he couldn’t quite identify, but liked in spite of the warnings he tried to give himself. “Had to learn a thing or two about first aid in the last job I held.” Her eyes narrowed. “That went far beyond first aid.” John shrugged, not rising to the bait. She wasn’t the only one with a demon or two in her background. His years leading men through desert mountains, dodging sniper fire and mortar shells had given him far more practice patching up bodies for transport than he really wanted to remember. Not that he wasn’t proud of his military career, yet here in this museum park with the sun beginning to slant long rays through the trees, the sound of children’s laughter and tour guides telling stories just seemed to be the wrong place to bring it up. He sent the probe back to her with a deft twist. “You seemed to know your way around a man’s groin yourself. Good hand work.” Her eyes flashed once and she gave a quick glance toward the boy who hung on their every word. But the kid gave no appearance of having understood the innuendo. The woman with the stroller, however, laughed out loud. “Oh Lauren, this one’s a keeper. Be sure to get his number.” She turned the stroller and took the boy’s hand. “C’mon, Ian. Let’s get you cleaned up the rest of the way.”
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“Beth…” The petite woman started to protest, but with a saucy wink at the two of them, her friend—sister?—pulled the kid and pushed the stroller toward the restrooms. His erstwhile nurse apologized. “I’m sorry, my friend likes to play matchmaker…” “It’s okay,” John told her, taking her arm and turning her toward the ice-cream stand. “I’m John…John McAllen. And you’re Lauren.” When she didn’t answer, he glanced down and prodded her. “Does Lauren have a last name?” She shook her head as if coming out of a reverie. “Sorry. Yes. I’m Maj—” She stopped herself and gave a little shake of her head before stopping entirely, setting a determined smile on her face and holding out her hand. “I’m Lauren Carr. Nice to meet you, John McAllen.” Okay, now he was intrigued. She’d been a major. Army field hospital, if he had to guess. That would explain the competence and the brief flash of irritation when he’d asked her if she could handle it down on the meadow. It would also explain the demon that haunted her eyes. He pointed to the cart a little ways farther down. “Looks like he’s about to close up for the day. How about an ice-cream cone before he does?” She smiled for the first time and the change in her face amazed him, giving him a glimpse of all her possibilities. “We were on our way over there when your friend broke his leg. Beth and Ian got theirs, but I didn’t.” “Then ice-cream cones it is.” He gestured her forward and they wound their way through the dozen or so people who still hung out, licking ice cream and taking their time. John took a deep breath, smiling and nodding to those they passed. He paused only once when a pretty young woman put her hand on his arm and asked for a picture. Lauren waited for him, seeming bemused by the request, but John felt happy to comply. Not only did it appeal to the innate theatrical vein in his psyche, but the reallife blood staining his uniform would give this couple a reminder of the realities of warfare, even if the accident had happened after the fact. To drive the point home, he told the woman and her boyfriend about some of the medical conditions of the mid1800s, including the fact that, in all likelihood, had such an accident happened during a real battle, the chances were the man would have died, or at the very least, have lost the leg entirely. Now, due to modern medicine, he’d be up and walking within weeks. As a result of the delay, they got to the stand just as the vendor flipped the sign to “closed”. Undeterred, John knocked on the window to get the man’s attention. “It’s been a long afternoon and this little lady really needs an ice-cream cone to cheer her up,” he told the man through the glass. When Lauren gave a little pout and batted her eyelashes at him, the man acquiesced and lifted the window once more. “But only for you two and only ’cause I saw what you did down there.” “Thanks.” John leaned on the counter and turned to Lauren. “So what’re you having?”
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Lauren bit her lower lip as she quickly scanned the choices to make sure her favorite was there then announced, “Mint chocolate chip.” “Make it two,” he told the man, reaching for his wallet. He saw her pull a small wallet from her jeans pocket, so he put his hand on her arm to stop her. “I’ve got this.” Color came up in her cheeks. “It’s not necessary—” “Didn’t say it was. Let’s just chalk it up to the uniform and a bygone era of gentlemanly behavior.” Lauren nodded, conflicting emotions running rampant inside her. Reading people was second nature to her. One didn’t have a lot of time to make a call when the medics brought in their buddies. And there was more than one way to bleed. But this John McAllen, so far, was an enigma. Obviously used to being in charge, yet out on this imaginary battlefield as a private. Smooth, definitely sexy—she’d seen the way the young woman reacted to him when he posed with his arm around her. Lauren had to admit she felt a little of the same herself. The way he looked right at her, as if she were the most important person on the planet right now. The way he steered her with small touches on her arm or back, not as if she were incapable, but as if he were protecting her. That was it, right there. In his presence, she felt safe. As if he had the strength of body and will to fight off all her demons, both real and imagined. For a brief moment she thought of the two of them standing on a hill in a time period even longer ago and knew he’d be wearing armor and riding a white charger. Or maybe chaps and spurs and a white hat. The vendor came with their cones and Lauren took a good, long lick, letting the mint settle deep inside her. A slow smile spread across her face. “Is there anything better for the soul than mint chocolate chip?” she commented. “I can think of a few things,” John answered her, taking a lick of ice cream, twisting the cone around in his fingers. Yet his eyes never left hers, reading her body language far more easily than she read his. He had to. Lauren knew she was no good at hiding her emotions after the crisis had passed. Right now she felt safe, secure…and sexy in his eyes. She lifted her chin and took him up on his offer. “Oh really? Name one.” “Tying a woman down and making love to her all night long.” Lauren choked on her ice cream. Of all the answers she’d been expecting from years of bad pick-up lines, John’s answer came out of the blue and smacked her right in the pussy. She felt herself grow warm all over despite the ice cream she tried desperately to swallow. And it didn’t help to have him stand there, looking nonchalant, gallantly offering her a paper napkin as if they were discussing the weather. Her eyes watering from
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swallowing too much ice cream too fast, she tried to look up at him, but the sun was behind him. “No fair. Can’t see you,” she muttered and pushed him to her other side so she could give him the glare he deserved. Except he took one look at her and laughed out loud. A good, hearty, infectious chuckle. When her glare turned to puzzlement, he reached over with his own napkin and wiped the green ice cream off the tip of her nose. She rolled her eyes and relented. “Okay, so your answer wasn’t quite what I expected,” she started. “But you’re intrigued enough that you’ll go out to dinner with me tomorrow night,” he finished. Lauren opened her mouth to demure, but Beth’s voice superimposed itself over hers. “Of course she is, and she’d love to. What time?” “Beth, I can arrange my own calendar.” “Seven o’clock.” John spoke directly to Beth. The conversation continued as if she wasn’t there. “Here’s her address and phone number. I took the liberty of writing it down for you.” “That was kind of you, ma’am. I appreciate it.” “Casual dress? Or something a little fancier?” John paused and gave Lauren a once-over. She took the opportunity to interject her own thoughts on the matter. “I’m right here you know. You can talk to me and—” “A little fancier.” “Perfect. I know just the outfit she should wear. It was nice meeting you, John.” “Nice to meet you too, Beth.” He shook the hand Beth offered and once again tousled Ian’s hair. “And you too, young man. You make sure these ladies get home safe now, you hear?” “Yes sir!” Ian snapped a salute and Lauren couldn’t help smiling. His arm was all akimbo and his fingers at the wrong angle, but his posture was straight and his grin infectious. “Dismissed, soldier!” “Come on, Aunt Lauren. Beth says it’s time to go home.” He took her hand and pulled her toward the exit. “Just a minute, Ian…” She turned to talk to John, but he’d already moved away. Instead, she took her frustration out on her best friend. “Beth, how could you? We don’t know anything about him.” “And if we did things your way, it would stay that way.” Beth pushed the stroller over the uneven ground, making her way toward the sidewalk that led to the parking lot. Most of the people were leaving now that the battle was done and the museum’s buildings were being shuttered.
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“Lauren, look. You’ve been home two months now and barely get out of that apartment except when the girls get together.” “That’s not true. I’m here with Ian today, aren’t I? I’ve taken him to the zoo, to the science museum—” “And to the planetarium. Lauren, you’re avoiding the topic.” She was and she knew it. Beth’s observation fell too close to the target. “Lauren, you won’t even go to the VA hospital to talk to someone. I won’t pretend I understand what you went through over there but I do know what you’re going through over here isn’t any good either.” Lauren shook her head. “I know, Beth. I know. I just need more time, that’s all.” “Time and a date with Big John.” “Beth!” Lauren pretended shock and playfully hit her friend on the arm. “Well, you do.” Beth dropped her voice. “And if you’re smart, you’ll let him get lucky on the first date and ride him all the way to mindless fucking!” The shock was real this time. “I’ve never heard you use that word…ever!” Beth’s smile was full of mischief. “Sarah’s been a bad influence on me.” Lauren highly doubted that. Lauren, Beth and Sarah Simpson—Sarah Townshend now—were part of a group of that got together every few weeks just to celebrate their friendship. Lauren and Beth had known each other since grade school. Sarah had joined them in high school where she’d earned the label “Most Pure and Innocent”. With her clean-cut look, big brown eyes and quiet ways, everyone agreed she deserved the title. Any retort Lauren intended to make, however, had to wait as the crowd filed through the narrow exit from the museum grounds. Beth went ahead, pushing the baby, and Lauren ended up several people back, holding tightly to Ian’s hand so she wouldn’t lose him in the crowd. But then the way opened again and Lauren saw her friend halfway through the parking lot to the car. With Ian in tow, she headed in the same direction. Ian pulled her up short, though, pointing through the trees at the white tents of the Union soldiers. “Look, Aunt Lauren. That’s where they sleep. You can see the tents from here and there’s John.” In fact, she’d seen John before Ian pointed him out. How could she not? He’d taken off his soiled coat and shirt and stood by one of the tents in nothing but his wool pants. Suspenders hung at his sides, but she noted those only in passing. His back was to her and she could see the broad expanse of shoulders and the strength of muscles as he stretched to reach inside the tent and pull out a clean shirt. A simple motion, really. And yet her breath caught again as he gathered the shirt in his hands and swung it up, dropping the folds of material down to cover those magnificent muscles. He shrugged his shoulders to settle the material and laughed at something someone said. She couldn’t hear the conversation. It didn’t matter. All she could think of was that back and his parting words to her—tying a woman down and making love to her all night 19
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long. She’d felt such protection while near those arms, that back. To have him tie her down…and make love to her? “Aunt Lauren, come on. Beth’s calling us.” Ian tugged impatiently on her arm and brought Lauren back to the present. “Right. Right, Ian. Let’s go home.” Determined not to think of that sexy back or of the fact that she had a date with it, she turned and walked away.
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Chapter Two Lauren stretched, sauntering over to the window to watch the rain puddle in the street. After a spate of beautifully sunny summer weather, she welcomed it, especially as it came down as an all-day rain. They could really use this long soaking for the gardens and fields. And the rain suited her mood. Since her discharge, Lauren had read, on average, three to five books a week, losing herself in romance novels, fantasy stories, even science fiction. Anything to avoid examining her life and deciding what to do next. Today she’d used the rain as an excuse to curl up on her living room couch, throw an afghan over her knees and sit with a cup of hot tea and an erotic romance novel. She’d finished the entire thing in one sitting and now felt primed and ready for a night on the town with Big John. Stepping into the shower, she thought about Beth’s advice to let him get lucky tonight. Overseas, one-night stands and quick flings got everyone through the worst of the stresses and strains and boredom that went along with working in the emergency department of a military hospital. Except she was home now. Did she want another one-nighter? Or did she want to play this one out and see where it went? The water splashed over her skin and she ducked under to chase away the solemn thoughts. “One thing at a time, girl,” she cautioned herself. First, she had to get through the date. He might turn out to be a total jerk. If that were the case, she’d leave him at the restaurant, take a taxi home and be done. But she remembered his touch on her elbow yesterday, his hand on the small of her back guiding her through the crowd, the overall feeling of protection he emanated and hoped John wouldn’t fall into the asshole category. He might, however, fall into the dangerous one. Beth’s instructions as to which dress to wear had been very specific. “The V-neck, black dress with the chiffon-skirt overlay. And wear your red scarf with it, but don’t tie it so you can’t see your cleavage. Just drape it over your shoulders like a wrap.” “Yes ma’am.” Lauren had laughed at the time, but as she stood, surveying her figure in the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door, she shook her head. The slinky dress showed off every curve, every hollow, every movement. The red scarf, with its oriental patterning, gave her an exotic flair. Beneath her makeup, however, she could still see the dark circles under her eyes that gave away her restless night. As she had feared, Saturday’s incident had provoked a nightmare. She’d awoken in a cold sweat, the shouts and confusion of a bomb blast still echoing in her ears. It had taken several hours of mindless TV watching before the images faded and she managed to drift off to sleep again on her living room couch. 21
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Lauren straightened her shoulders and plastered a smile on her face. That was done, she told herself. Nothing but a bad dream now. She’d closed that chapter of her life and moved on to the next, even if she had no idea what the next looked like. The image in the mirror reflected a woman in her early thirties, no gray yet in her shoulderlength brown locks although, if heredity had anything to say about it, those gray hairs should be showing up any day now. She still wore it parted on the side as she had since her high school days, finding the easy style to be versatile enough to wear up when at work or down for a night out. Not that she had a job just yet. Soon. She’d get out and look for one. When she was ready. One that didn’t involve hospitals or doctors or blood. She’d had enough of all three to last her several lifetimes. The door chime stopped her reveries, reminding her tonight marked a step out of the shell she’d formed over the past few years. One-night stands might take the edge off in battle zones but did little for the psyche. Despite Beth’s admonition that she just needed a night in the sack, Lauren longed for so much more. Her plastered-on smile turned warmer the moment she opened the door and saw John standing there. He stepped inside and filled her hallway with those magnificent shoulders. The way his eyebrows rose when he saw her in the dress Beth had instructed her to wear didn’t hurt any either. “Very nice,” he said by way of greeting. Lauren dipped a small curtsey. “Thank you. Just a moment while I get my bag.” She left the door open as she hurried into her bedroom for the forgotten tiny purse. Styles had changed while she’d been overseas and all today’s purses seemed huge. She’d found this one at a discount store and had cut off the long strap that was meant to go over her shoulder, all the while missing the pockets of her uniform. Coming back to the door, she picked up her keys from the table and stepped beside him in the hall. “All set now.” She locked the door and smiled at him, calling over her shoulder, “And good night, Mrs. Boorman. Don’t wait up!” as they headed for the stairs. Behind them they heard a small snick as a door shut down the hall. “Mrs. Boorman keeps track of you, does she?” “Of me and most others on the floor. There are six apartments on each of the two floors and I swear, each floor has its version of Mrs. Boorman.” He chuckled and his baritone echoed in the stairwell. “Every apartment building has their version of Mrs. Boorman. And that’s a good thing.” “Is it?” “We all need someone to keep track of our whereabouts. Having people care, even if in a busybody sort of way, gives purpose to our lives.” They’d reached the first floor. Only the presence of another couple also making their way out for the night prevented Lauren from continuing the conversation. Lauren peeked through the door, hoping her wrap would be enough. The rain had stopped and the vivid pinks and oranges of the clouds promised a better day tomorrow. Once 22
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outside, John opened the passenger door of his SUV and handed her in, so she still didn’t have the opportunity to respond. But as they pulled from the curb and headed into traffic, she picked up the train of thought he’d started in her. “Our lives can have purpose all by themselves, you know. You don’t really need others to validate your existence.” “Not to validate, but to give it purpose. You know you’re alive, but without others, of what use would you be?” Lauren turned to face him, her eyebrows knitted in a frown. “You can’t be purposeful by yourself?” Clearly Lauren’s emotions lay close to the surface. Stirring them didn’t take much effort at all. He found himself enjoying the banter, glad for the confirmation that she was more than met the eye. “Let’s put it this way. A hermit in the woods needs no one to validate his existence. He knows he’s alive, he knows he breathes and thinks and has things to do.” John paused as he maneuvered around a vehicle parallel parking in front of him. He noted the way Lauren seemed to look in several directions at once as he did so, checking out the cars at the side of the street, the ones in the oncoming lane as well as giving the parking car a very thorough going-over. He continued, however, as if he’d noticed nothing. “But he has no purpose in life. He simply exists. Without interaction, a person doesn’t grow as a human being and the world is not enriched.” “So the purpose of life is to enrich the world…?” Lauren left the end of the sentence trailing, inviting him to further argue his point. Or dig himself in deeper, he wasn’t sure which. “Yes, I’d say that’s part of it. Isn’t Mrs. Boorman’s life enriched by watching yours? She’ll have a juicy bit of gossip to share with the other gossips of the building. That’ll raise her status, and thus, your purpose in life.” “My purpose?” “To give Mrs. Boorman something to talk about.” Lauren’s laugh sounded a little rusty, as if it weren’t something she did very often. He liked hearing it, though. While he didn’t know the particulars of her past, he knew the haunted look far too well. He’d been given a second chance for a real life after serving his country—she deserved the same. “So tell me your preference, Miss Lauren,” he drawled in his best Southerngentleman voice, “do you prefer the nightlife of the High Falls area? Should we dine at one of the upscale nightclubs and dance the night away? Or would you prefer somewhere quieter, with perhaps a lounge lizard playing Billy Joel and Frank Sinatra?” “You don’t like Billy Joel and Frank Sinatra?” “I do, when played by Billy Joel and Frank Sinatra.” 23
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“Well, I’m not really a nightclub kinda gal…” If John hadn’t glanced at her at that precise moment, he would’ve missed the brief shadow that crossed her features. Her voice, besides the slight pause that could’ve been for effect, gave no hint of anything wrong as she continued. “I could do dinner in a nice restaurant that doesn’t have a lounge lizard in the bar pounding out oldies on an out-oftune piano.” “I know just the place.” A spot quiet and intimate, yet with good food that filled the soul as well as the belly. He took the next left. “So you’re a doctor?” Her question startled him. “No, I’m a teacher. Why would—” He stopped. “Oh, because of yesterday?” “Well, yeah. I’m a—was—a nurse. You set that bone as if you’d done it a hundred times. Speaking of which, how is your friend?” “Chuck? He’s fine. He lost a lot of blood, but your good work kept him from losing more. The surgery on the artery went well and his leg will be in traction for a while, but he’ll heal.” “Because of your quick action with the compound fracture.” “I’ve tended enough of them in my life. Not all legs, but the technique doesn’t really change, whether it’s a finger, an arm or a leg.” “But you’re not a doctor.” He heard the amusement in her voice. “Nope. Teacher. High school social studies with a specialty in American history.” “Civil War in particular?” Now it was his turn to grin. “Actually, that’s one of my weak points. But a friend of mine is a reenactor and he talked me in to giving it a try. Said maybe I’d learn something.” “And have you?” She swayed as he made the right into the parking lot at Bonacci’s, an upscale Italian restaurant, and John wished he didn’t have bucket seats. He wouldn’t mind feeling her against his arm. On second thought, maybe the bucket seats made better sense. “Have I learned anything? Yeah, I learned not to die face up so early in the battle.” Her chuckle was worth the slight sunburn he’d gotten. His cheeks still sported a definite glow from his time as a dead man. “I also learned that a Springfield rifle weighs nine pounds and that nine pounds is heavy when carried for an hour while wearing a wool uniform in the sun.” He threw the SUV into park and turned off the ignition. “Is Italian all right with you?” The small dimples in her cheeks when she smiled gave her an impish look that wasn’t reflected in her eyes and the fading sunlight colored her hair a beautiful auburn. She’d worn it down tonight and the ends brushed over her bare shoulders where her wrap had slipped down. Keeping his touch nonchalant, he brushed her hair back with 24
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his fingertips, feeling the smooth warmth of her shoulder. Lauren’s eyes dropped and he thought, If she were a cat, she might purr. Instead she smiled up at him, her look steady and measuring. “Italian is fine,” was all she said, the words implying so much more. If only he had a clue what. Lauren smoothed her dress with one hand, adjusted the wrap with the other, and then took the arm he proffered to cross the parking lot to the restaurant. He’d handed her out of the car and every time they touched, she got the same little flutter in her stomach. What was that all about? She was far too old to go all school-girly. A high school history teacher, hmm? She bet there wasn’t a girl in his classes who didn’t sit there all googly-eyed over their hunk of a teacher. Although he hadn’t gotten those broad shoulders from lifting history books, she’d bet her last dollar on that. Beth’s advice to bed him tonight came back to her and Lauren took a deep breath of the warm summer air. The next thought, however, did not warm her, but gave her tingles. Tie down a woman and make love to her all night long. Sex with Big John wouldn’t be cuddles and romance. She kept her thoughts private as the maître d’ led them to a booth too secluded for her taste, one that afforded a great deal of privacy for the exchange of all sorts of intimate secrets. Except she wasn’t sharing her secrets with anyone. Not even Beth knew the full extent of what she’d seen, not only during her time at Walter Reed but when stationed in Iraq. Those were her little secrets and no amount of romance would pry them out of her. No matter how much his blue eyes smiled at her, the corners crinkling up as he laughed at one of her bon mots. No matter how much she liked the dimple in his cheek or the way his strong hands moved in the candlelight. The grace in those movements fascinated her. She’d seen him save a man’s life the day before with those same hands that now held a menu board. The lamp overhead burned low and a large jar candle on the table cast a warm light over the creamy white of the booth’s tablecloth. The placemats and napkins of rich burgundy added to the elegant feel. Candlelight sparkled off the water and wineglasses, bestowing a fairy-like touch to the whole scene, and Lauren revised her opinion. Perhaps there could be romance in being tied down and made love to, if done in candlelight. “What’s your favorite Italian food?” Lauren asked to veer her mind away from the bedroom. She still hadn’t made up her mind about that yet. Too many unanswered questions about the man across the table from her and food was as good a place to start as any. “Pastas are my favorite, but I favor red sauce over cream based. You?”
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She shook her head. “My grandparents on both sides were from England. I grew up with Yorkshire pudding and roast beef. I don’t know nearly as much as I should about Italian food.” John set his menu down. “Then let me order for you. You’ve never had roast beef until you’ve had it prepared the Italian way.” Lauren chuckled and closed her menu. “Deal.” John placed their order with the waiter, ordering an appetizer of bruschetta to be followed with two orders of braciole. To go with it, he ordered a full-bodied pinot noir from a local winery. As the waiter left, Lauren took charge of the conversation once more. If she directed it, she could stay on safe ground. “So how did you end up a history teacher?” Damn, but she liked his smile. Framed as it was by that goatee, she had to wonder yet again what it would be like to be kissed by a man with a beard and mustache. She’d had plenty of “release” flings both overseas and at home, but until now, she’d always gravitated toward the clean-shaven look. John’s well-trimmed facial hair, however, gave him a dashing, almost pirate-y look that made her grin. “The president put out a call for teachers and I answered. Thought about becoming a shop teacher, but found out there’s not much call for that anymore. Emphasis is now on getting kids ready for a different world. But history? ‘Those who don’t know history are destined to repeat it.’ Edmund Burke.” “I never thought about subjects going out of style, but I suppose they have to. What’s your favorite era?” Keep him talking about himself and he wouldn’t ask the same questions about her. In the two months since her return, she’d become a master at deflection. “The Edmund Burke quote didn’t give me away? Pre-colonial and the colonial period. How an entire society invented an entirely new way of governing themselves is an endlessly intriguing question for me. Be careful, or I’ll get into lecture mode and bore you to death.” Lauren chuckled. “Actually, it’s a question that has always interested me as well. Equally interesting is the companion question.” She paused as the waiter approached with their wine. She watched him uncork the bottle, pour some for John to taste and then waited as he filled their glasses upon John’s approval. “What’s the companion question?” John resumed their conversation as the waiter departed. “Why is it so hard for other countries to become democracies? I mean, think of it.” Lauren warmed to her subject. “We were a colony under a monarchy. They were under a dictator—” She stopped, realizing she’d tipped her hand. John picked up as if he didn’t notice. “It’s all in the personalities. We had George Washington, who refused to become king. There was an entire movement, you know, that wanted to establish a constitutional monarchy just like the mother country.”
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Lauren nodded and sipped her wine. “I did know that. But cooler heads prevailed.” Now it was John’s turn to laugh. “I never thought of it that way, but perhaps that’s it exactly. The English are known for their cool dispositions, and our founding fathers came from that tradition. Maybe other countries who try for democracy don’t have that calm, rationalizing influence. They’re ruled more by passion, so their road to democracy will be more passionate and violent.” She was saved from an answer by the arrival of their bruschetta. She steered the talk toward a more innocuous subject—their tastes in food. Throughout the appetizer she discovered Italian was his favorite, followed by Mexican, Chinese and Indian. “All robust foods,” she laughed as she spooned tomatoes and basil onto a slice of toasted bread. “As you can tell, nouveau cuisine is not my style.” He patted his belly. “Oh come on. You can’t tell me there’s an ounce of fat on that stomach,” she scolded. “Of course not!” He looked affronted then turned sheepish. “I’m afraid I have a streak of undisclosed vanity. I do spend probably more time than I should in the gym.” So her body-builder comparison yesterday hadn’t been so far off. “I don’t mind,” she told him. “I like a man with muscles in all the right places.” Her coy smile, accompanied by a waggle of the eyebrows, kept the comment light but she couldn’t deny the underlying attraction he provoked. Beth wanted her to allow John to get lucky. The more she thought about it, the more inclined she was to follow her friend’s advice. She hadn’t had a sexual partner in nearly a year. Maybe Beth was right and all she needed was a good hard fucking to get her mind back on track. The braciole came, the rolled meat sitting on a bed of ziti and topped with a delicious-smelling tomato-based sauce. They both accepted the offer of freshly grated parmesan and when the waiter once more departed, Lauren remarked, “Can you believe the hundreds of millions of people who got cheated out of tomato sauce because they thought the plant was poisonous?” “Actually, the plant is poisonous, it’s the fruit that isn’t.” Lauren chuckled. “Ahh…a member of the ‘tomato is fruit’ society, I see.” John’s eyes danced as they parried and thrust, learning about each other and getting through the small talk necessary to set the stage for deeper conversations later. This woman before him presented so many different faces to the world, all of them seemingly competent. The playful kitten, the little-sister tease, the intent scholar, each side true in and of itself yet masking an inner turmoil she hid quite well. No trace of the haunted look he’d seen before appeared during dinner. She kept the conversation light and focused on him. John let her get away with it, knowing trust takes time to build. He didn’t let on even once that he knew about her friend’s comment to her, about getting lucky on the first date. Women weren’t the only ones who liked to gossip and
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Will had been standing discreetly nearby, ready to report Lauren’s reactions verbatim. Will’s tastes in sex ran the same way John’s did, although Will’s activities with his wife tended to be a little more extreme than John preferred. Still, he’d attended a few gatherings of like-minded folk and enjoyed learning the proper way to tie the female figure to provide maximum enjoyment for them both. Question was, would Lauren allow that kind of play? He fully intended to fulfill Beth’s suggestion tonight and give Lauren the release she needed. As to future nights, however? That all depended on just how deep the demons were in that pretty little lady across the table from him. Problem was, she deflected every attempt he made to figure her out. “So what do you do when you’re not escorting your nephew around the museums and zoos of the city?” She turned that one aside with a neat, “I’m between positions at the moment.” He let that one slide, although several double entendres leapt to mind. He asked about Beth instead, listening to the unsaid words in her description of the woman she called her best friend. The most telling was the comment that Beth had been there “during my dark time”. They were getting closer. “So you didn’t like the braciole?” he asked her as she scooped the last piece of meat around her plate to get all the sauce. “No, it was wonderful—” She smiled as she realized he teased her. “Seriously, I never thought about rolling beef with stuffing and dropping it into tomato sauce. Truly a unique idea.” He grabbed his heart in mock distress. “Tomato sauce! Augh! A magnificent red sauce like this and you call it ‘tomato sauce’. I’m wounded to the very core.” Lauren laughed outright then slapped her hand over her mouth as she realized how loud the sound had been. The older couple sitting at the table a little ways away looked over and smiled indulgently. John liked the sound of her laugh. Another thing she didn’t do often enough. “So where did you learn so much about Italian food?” “In the service. Friend of mine was named DelVeccio. He taught me all there was to know…” Lauren had gone quiet. Her eyes darted to the door as if she suddenly were plotting her best escape route. Obviously he’d said something wrong.
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Chapter Three Her heart thumping, Lauren fought to remain calm. Why hadn’t she seen this sooner? How could she have missed it? The quiet command of the men yesterday, his ease in steering her through and around the crowds, even his haircut should’ve given him away. Close-cropped, but longer than what would’ve been allowed if he were still active. He’d been a soldier. Probably recently, knowing her luck. She should’ve picked up on it sooner. Flustered, she put her fork down, leaving the rest of the pasta in her dish unfinished. “I’m sorry. I have to go. This isn’t a good…I mean…I didn’t think…” her voice trailed off and she shook her head. “I have to go.” Her wrap had slipped off her shoulders and as she stood, one end fell to the floor. John was suddenly beside her, his hand on her bare arm, his touch gentling and calm. “If dinner’s made you ill, I can take you home. If it’s something else, please…sit down. No one’s going to hurt you here.” Damn him. His soothing tone sank into her panic, yet she didn’t want to look into his eyes, knowing the pity she’d see there, the condescension of the superior male to the weaker female that she’d seen so many times overseas. Well, she wasn’t weak. And she wasn’t about to put up with his arrogant, self-important, better-than-you attitude. Yanking her arm away, she squared off, steeling herself to look him straight in the eye, her mouth open to give him a good tongue-lashing, right there in the restaurant. Except the patronizing look she expected wasn’t there. The words she had intended to blast him with sputtered out in a few syllables then fell to silence. “I’m not…I mean, you’re…” “Come sit and tell me what this is all about?” The question mark weakened her knees. He’d begun the sentence as a command and ended it with her choice. “Quiet authority” she’d thought before now showing as proof positive. He commanded without bullying. Nodding, she sank into the chair again, pulling the wrap tightly around her shoulders when he lifted it into place before sitting opposite her again. The waiter came right over, seeing their distress and knowing he was about to lose a good tip. Customers who fought always forgot about their server. “Would sir and madam like to finish their meal with a little gelato?” Lauren nodded hesitantly to John’s questioning look and the waiter left to get the Italian ice cream. “Gelato’s a very dense ice cream. I think you’ll like it.” He sat back in his chair and Lauren understood he was giving her space to think.
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She shook her head and decided to come clean. “Look, John. I’m sure you’re a wonderful person. I like your company, I really do. But I just can’t… I’m just not ready for…” He leaned forward and waited until she looked directly at him. Then he smiled and the dimple appeared in his cheek. “Let tonight be simply dinner. Just two people working on becoming friends who came out to enjoy a good meal. Set everything else aside.” She relaxed barely at all. “It’s not as easy as you think.” She glanced almost shyly at his face and still saw no traces of the arrogance she was used to seeing in the faces of soldiers. Her loneliness welled up and Beth’s image came to mind. After years of dating him, Beth had finally consented to marry her longtime boyfriend, Paul. Now they had a child and her friend radiated contentment and happiness. Saying John McAllen would bring that same contentment to Lauren’s life stretched the current circumstances but if she ran away, she’d never find out. Forcing her shoulders to relax, Lauren spread her fingers on her lap and let out her breath. When she looked up at him again, she’d found a measure of calm. “I can do that. Just enjoy this for what it is. I think.” Now he chuckled outright. With a small flourish, he put his car keys on the table between them. “If you decide to bolt, take my car. Can’t have you walking home from here.” Lauren couldn’t help it. His smile was infectious. “And how will you get home if I take your car?” He shrugged. “I’ll figure out something.” Lauren relaxed as the waiter set the gelato before her, realizing John had done it in spite of her best intentions. He’d worked his charm and calmed her down even though she’d every intention of running away from this former military man. Lifting her spoon in a silent toast, she gave him the first round of the evening. John fully intended to determine the reason for her sudden panic but took a roundabout approach to lull her into relaxing with him. Did she realize that was his intention? Probably. All night long she’d shown a sharp wit and deflected his forays. John liked a challenge and Lauren was definitely that. She had a way of throwing her head back and tossing her hair out of her face that showed both impatience and a definite sexuality he doubted she knew she exuded. The neckline of that little black dress showed just a hint of cleavage. The scarf worked to hide it. A fitting metaphor for our conversation, he thought as she deflected his current attempt. “You said you went to Nazareth and the University of Rochester? What did you major in?” “I wanted to be a scientist when I was in high school, so I got a degree in chemistry. This gelato is really good.” “But you didn’t become a scientist?”
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“Nope. Did you get your degree in American history or in education?” “You’re changing the subject.” Her answering grin affirmed it. “I’m not going to go there, soldier boy. So you might as well stop trying.” “Soldier boy?” For a moment, she looked flustered again, but then recovered. “Private in the Union Army, right?” John knew that wasn’t what she’d meant. Was it his time in the military that gave her the fidgets? Time to hit the subject head on. “Yes, and former Marine captain, stationed in Hawaii, two tours of duty in Iraq, then back to North Carolina.” Her face went white. Bingo. John remained calm. Why did his service so obviously throw her? “Lauren?” “Yes, sorry.” She took a large gulp of water from the glass beside her plate. John put his spoon down. “I think you’d better tell me.” It didn’t matter that the restaurant was thousands of miles and several years away from his time in Iraq. The look in her eyes mirrored that of a boy he’d almost killed when his unit had stormed a house of supposed insurgents. All they’d found were several women huddled in a corner and an eleven-year-old boy wielding a long block of wood like a baseball bat. Thankfully, they hadn’t shot first that time and, through a translator, profusely apologized for the bad intelligence. He wasn’t ever sure it had made any difference to the family they’d inadvertently terrorized. Across the table Lauren picked up her spoon and fiddled with her melting gelato before giving up any pretense of eating. “This isn’t the place,” she told him, keeping her head down as she obviously struggled with her emotions. “Lauren.” John waited until she looked up at him. Tears and panic glimmered in her eyes. Making a decision, he dropped his napkin beside his plate and signaled the waiter. “Check, please.” “Yes sir.” With efficiency, the waiter whisked away their bowls. Lauren and John sat in silence until he returned with the folder containing the check. John glanced at the amount, pulled two fifties from his wallet and left them inside. Standing, he held out a hand to Lauren. Her hand trembled in his, then she steadied somewhat and nodded, more to herself than to him. The night had turned a little chilly and Lauren shivered as they walked to the parking lot. He tucked her arm in his but then, a block away a car backfired and Lauren immediately went down, throwing one hand over her head, using her other to balance herself on the ground. John doubted she’d even realized she’d cried out. If he’d had any 31
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doubt about the haunted look in her eyes before, he realized now he had his answer. PTSD—post-traumatic stress disorder—wasn’t nearly as uncommon as people wanted to believe and the woman who’d been so competent on the field yesterday now hunkered down in the restaurant parking lot, her entire body shaking as reality slowly returned. “Sorry,” she managed. He shook his head as he bent to help her up. “There is nothing to apologize for. Come on, I’m taking you home and we’re going to talk.” “Talk?” She batted away his hand as she stood, her nerves still on edge. “There’s an entire legion of psychiatrists who want to ‘talk’ and medicate and put me away somewhere ‘quiet’. What makes you think I’m going to spill my guts to you?” “I didn’t say you were going to talk. I said we are going to talk.” He watched her brush off her knees and knew now was not the right time to be noticing her cleavage. The scarf trailed in the dirt and he bent to pick it up. “We are going to talk and—” Lauren snatched the scarf out of his fingers, effectively cutting off both his words and the view as she wrapped it around her like armor. John dropped his hands to his sides and let down a little of the guard he kept on his own set of issues. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “You’re not the only one with hard memories, you know.” She turned her body, her chin still defiant, her gaze on something farther away than the restaurant building before them. “I’m sure I’m not,” she finally managed, her voice sounding strangled. John waited. Rushing her would only drive her away. She had to come on her own time or the friendship they’d forged in the restaurant would die an early death. After several moments, Lauren finally turned back to him. “I’m trying very hard to put that part of my life behind me. Dredging it all up again isn’t really very useful.” “And yet it won’t go away.” She didn’t answer, dropping her gaze before finally shaking her head. He pushed further. “The waking in the middle of the night, seeing the bodies of the men you couldn’t save. Smelling the heavy metallic odor of spilled blood. Gallons and gallons of blood that clots and turns black before the march of feet trample it into the ground. Is that what you see, Lauren? “Or the sounds of a construction site, the pneumatic hammers sounding like gunshots, the jackhammers like machine guns that just don’t stop—ever? Asking yourself why everyone is walking around as if there’s no one hiding around the next corner, why they’re all smiling and pretending that life is wonderful when you know the hell that lurks in your memories?” His words battered her. He was being a bastard. He knew it. But he couldn’t stop. “It doesn’t go away by itself, Lauren. This isn’t a cold that can be cured by some aspirin and vitamin C, it’s not even like grief that will heal with time. What you’re
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feeling goes deeper than grief because you know what you were like before. Before you went over there, before you became a monster who dealt out life and death with splitsecond decisions. “And now you’re home, a place that’s supposed to be safe except the world has completely changed. Only it hasn’t. You have. And that’s what you can’t deal with.” Tears slid silently down Lauren’s cheeks. A sob escaped and she clenched her fist to her mouth as if to push it back in. John felt like a heel. He hadn’t intended to go so far. He’d started out to make the case for the two of them to talk about their wartime service and gotten caught up in his own damn memories. “Lauren, I’m sorry. I got carried away.” She shook her head, her entire body tense with the effort to regain control. After a moment, she gulped down a deep breath and opened her mouth to answer. It took a few tries, however, before she managed an entire sentence. “No…every…everything you said…is right. I do have nightmares, and I obviously jump…jump at every loud noise. I sometimes find myself shaking when I’m not cold and I can’t drive down the street without watching every parked car for hidden IEDs.” Her voice grew steadier as she spoke. “People I knew before—they look at me and see the old Lauren. They expect me to laugh and be witty and have fun the way I used to.” She shook her head and her sigh came out a little ragged as she made her confession. “And I’m not that girl anymore. And I miss her.” The tears welled up again. John held out his arms and she stepped into them. The light in the parking lot only dimly lit this corner but he didn’t need it to feel how perfectly her body fit into his. Her head rested on his shoulder, her arms curled up, one hand again covering her mouth as if to silence the emotions that spilled out. He gentled her and realized that he relaxed as she calmed. Perhaps it wasn’t she who needed him but he who needed her. The door of the restaurant opened, letting out a noisy foursome. Instinctively John turned her so they would not see her or her tears. “I think I know exactly what you need,” he murmured into her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume. She smelled like a spice, not a flower and it suited her. Taking a steadying breath, she looked up at him, her composure slowly returning. “Oh?” He nodded. “Yep. The night is still young and I—” The stricken look on her face made him realize the enormity of the error he was about to make. Without missing a beat, he changed his mind and headed off in an entirely different direction. “Wouldn’t mind walking off some of that meal. Would madam care for a walk along the lakeshore?” That got him a tentative smile and a nod. “Shall we?” John handed her inside the SUV before climbing in through the driver’s door, starting up and pulling out of the lot.
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Once the playground of the city’s rich and poor alike, only one bathhouse still remained on the sandy beaches of Lake Ontario north of Rochester and one lonely carousel that still gave rides every summer. On a beautiful summer’s eve like tonight, the jetty out along the Genesee River would be teeming with people enjoying the fresh air. Abbot’s ice-cream stand would be doing a brisk business and the Penny Arcade would have a crowd spilling onto the sidewalks. As expected, traffic was heavier the closer to the lake they got. He pulled into a parking lot off to the right, finding a spot far from the action. Lauren had gone quiet on him, so he simply got out and went around to her side of the car. She beat him to it this time, jumping out of the big vehicle just as he got there. The uneven ground, however, wasn’t meant for her heels and she stumbled. John caught her in his arms, liking how she fit. She looked up, her face dimly lit by a lamp too far away for its light to do more than glimmer in this corner of the lot. He couldn’t resist and bent down to brush her lips with his. He intended just a small kiss. Honest. Just a taste. But her body molded to his and the kiss deepened. Her fingers pressed against his chest in hungry exploration and he responded, tightening his hold and pulling her closer. When they parted, a sultry gleam glimmered in her eyes. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to take a walk tonight,” she murmured. John stepped back, unsure if she meant what he thought she meant. He took her chin and gently turned her face to the light. The sultry look flickered a moment before settling into place. He dropped his hand. “Come on, I’ll take you home.” “That’s not what I… John…” He reached around her and opened the door. “Let’s talk. Inside.” John put the windows down, letting the fresh-water scent of the lake blow through. The breeze lifted strands of Lauren’s hair, giving him a perfect opportunity. Leaning over, he tucked a stray behind her ear and pulled her close to him, kissing her again to let her know he wasn’t angry. Her lips felt hungry under his, except he didn’t really know what she was hungry for. For that matter, he wasn’t sure what he wanted either. But he knew she pulled at his heartstrings in a way he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Despite her damaged psyche, she intrigued him. He deepened the kiss before ending it, pleased when she didn’t pull away. When it ended, for several seconds, neither said anything. The sounds of the lakeshore’s nightlife wafted in on the night air. When they finally spoke, they overlapped each other. “John, I really like you…” “Lauren, I don’t know what you want…” He smiled and she chuckled nervously. With a gesture, she indicated he should go first. Reaching over, he took her hand in his. “I really enjoyed dinner tonight.”
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“So did I.” “More than I thought I would.” That surprised her. She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Oh?” “Yesterday you caught my eye with not only your skill on the field but your charm afterward.” Lauren snorted. She’d flirted, yes. But been charming? She doubted that. “If I hadn’t been intrigued, I wouldn’t have asked for a date.” His tone mildly scolded and Lauren nodded, unrepentant. She took refuge in humor when people got too close. And John treaded far too near the line. “So now I have a dilemma. I can take you to my house and have my way with you…” “Tied and made love to all night long, I believe was your promise.” She meant to egg him on, get him angry so he’d just take her home, since it was becoming increasingly clear to her that he was trying to let her down gently. “It was,” he agreed without a trace of rancor in his voice. “I find myself, however, asking if tonight’s the right night to do that.” “It is Sunday night. I suppose you have work in the morning? Summer school or some such?” “No, I don’t teach in the summers. It’s my time to do research.” Damn him. He remained unflappable, even as she got snippier. “Lauren, I like you. I’d like to get to know you more. But you deflect every question, every topic that has to do with you. I could still take you home, tie you up and make love to you all night long, except that I’d only be making love to your body, not your heart. And I already know I want more than that with you. You deserve more than that.” His hand squeezed hers but she had no strength to squeeze back. Her thoughts whirled. How did you argue with a man who understood you needed more than just a one-night stand? What woman would complain about a man who wanted her for more than just her body? Finally she nodded. “Thank you.” She looked over at him, glad for the shadows that prevented him from seeing the tear that escaped. “I’m not used to… I’ve kept people at a distance for a long time. It’s hard for me to let anyone in.” “I know.” His voice sounded soft, reassuring. “I will only come in as far as you want me to. I’m not going to force you.” His hand squeezed hers. “But know I’m not going away. I’m very serious when I say I want to know you better.” “Thank you. I want to know you better too.” “Even though neither of us has anything pressing to do tomorrow, I think I should be getting you home.”
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Lauren nodded, liking the feel of his goatee on the back of her hand as he gave it a chaste kiss. They drove to her apartment in near silence, each thinking over the other’s comments. Although she didn’t say anything as he drove down the streets, her hands, clenched together on her lap, told him all he needed to know. He also knew he couldn’t rush her. Her breathing had returned to normal and some of the tension had gone from her shoulders. Didn’t matter. She’d have nightmares tonight. So would he. Stopping in front of her apartment, he turned off the engine. “Lauren…” She turned to him, a sad smile on her lips. “Thank you, John. I really enjoyed myself tonight. It’s been awhile since I let myself…” He waited as she struggled for the right words. “Since I let my guard down,” she finished. “I’m honored you felt safe enough with me to do that.” Lauren chuckled. “I don’t know what it is about you, but you’re right. ‘Safe’ is the operative word here. There’s something about you that makes me want to curl up in your arms and…” “And?” She shrugged and her head dipped down. Her hair fell like a curtain in front of her face and John knew she’d made the movement deliberately. She wasn’t quite ready to share all her secrets with him. When she didn’t answer, he took her hand, running his thumb along the length of her slender fingers. “Lauren, you are safe with me. And to prove it, I’m going to walk you to that door and see you inside and then I’m going to go away and not press my advantage when you’re feeling vulnerable.” Her head shot up at that. “Vulnerable? I’m a big girl and can take care of myself, thank you very much.” Obviously he’d hit a nerve. Patient, he sat and waited. Finally, she caved and smiled. “Okay, so maybe I need a little help now and again.” She grinned and John liked seeing her so relaxed. “But I’m not totally helpless, you know.” “I know. I’d like to see you again.” “Even after my meltdown?” “Probably because of your meltdown.” She arched her eyebrow at him. “Oh? I appeal to your knight’s sense of chivalry? You’re going to rescue a damsel in distress?” Her voice had gone cold and John suddenly realized the thin ice he stood on. There was some truth to her statement but there was more too. He liked her. He’d found her competent on the field of battle, so to speak, been intrigued enough by her beauty to ask her out and then enjoyed their banter over dinner. Until her meltdown she’d been pretty close to a normal date. 36
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Then she’d shown him a deeper side that he’d only caught glimpses of before, a side that had seen the same horrors he had. How many women had gone screaming into the night because of his nightmares? Lauren wouldn’t. John was sure of it. He couldn’t let her go. His head tilted a little to the side as if considering. “Probably there is some of that.” He smiled a little sheepishly. “Honor and glory and all that. And a mother who’d smack me upside the head if I didn’t show proper respect to women.” She smiled at that, but the air of waiting still hung between them. He wasn’t off the hook yet. “Truth is, you intrigue me. I want to see you again because you’re fun to be with, you’re cute,” he paused to bop her nose with his finger before going serious again, “and I see some of myself in you.” She dropped her pretense. “I’d like to see you again too, John. Not,” she added quickly, “because I see you as my knight in shining armor swooping in to rescue me from the dragons of my nightmares, although,” she raised her shoulders in a gesture of surrender, “having someone to do that does cross my mind now and again.” Lauren raised the latch of the door and stepped out. As John came around the front of the car, she completed her thought. “I’d like to see you again because you’re one of the good guys.” He laughed outright at that. “Then I’d best not tarnish my reputation, Miss Lauren. Shall I see you to your door?” “I’d be delighted if you would, Mr. McAllen.” She’d put on an excellent Southern drawl and he couldn’t help but laugh again. At the door to her apartment, he waited as she unlocked the door. When he heard the door down the hall snick open, he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Shall we give Mrs. Boorman something more to discuss with the neighbors?” Lauren stifled a giggle and turned to face him. “You do have a mean streak, John McAllen.” She smiled coyly. “I like that in a man.” “Stop talking, Miss Lauren.” To be sure she followed his orders, he covered her lips with his. She was soft and pliant in his arms and for a moment John regretted his decision to be honorable. When she pressed back, he pulled her closer but didn’t push his advantage. Releasing her, he let his arms drop. “‘Til next time?” He pushed open her door. “‘Til next time,” she answered and floated inside. The door shut and John glanced down the hall and saw the squinting eyes of Mrs. Boorman. He nodded his head and tipped his imaginary hat before sauntering down the hall, down the stairs and out to his car. Tonight had been a promising beginning.
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Chapter Four Lauren leaned against the door, still feeling the touch of his lips on hers. She wanted him. Desperately. So much so she made a half move to open the door and call him back. Her hand stayed on the doorknob, though, not turning it as second thoughts set in. She’d wondered what it would be like to kiss a man with a goatee and she’d certainly found out. His beard and mustache tickled a little, but she found it arousing. A man like John McAllen would know how to use that tickle to great advantage. In the darkness of her apartment, she smiled wickedly, thinking about how those whiskers would feel if he were to go down on her. Dropping her purse on the small table, she turned to lean against the door. She remembered his arms around her, how comforted she’d felt, how protected. Tie her up and make love to her? With those muscles? She didn’t have a chance. The more she thought about it, the hornier she got. Maybe she should’ve persuaded him to come in and ravish her. That kiss certainly held promise. She shook her head as she pushed herself away from the door. No, she’d done the right thing. They both had. She wanted more from John McAllen than a one-nighter and she’d certainly gotten the impression he did too. A night-light in the bathroom gave her plenty of light to make her way to the bedroom, her mind still filled with thoughts of his kiss. Shedding her little black dress, she thought of what it would be like to have his powerful hands sliding the straps down her arms, resting on her waist and pulling her toward him. Her eyes slid to the drawer in the nightstand. Yes, definitely a night for her little toy. Quickly, she took off the rest of her clothes and pulled out the vibrator that had become her best friend over the past few months. About eight inches long and only an inch in diameter, the motor on this little puppy had proven worth the price she’d paid for it. While overseas, a former boyfriend had sent her a stuffed panda bear as a romantic gift. Lauren hadn’t much cared for the boyfriend by then, but the panda fit under her shoulder just right when she slept. A night hadn’t gone by since that she hadn’t slept with that stuffed animal. Nameless, it had received her tears when she’d been upset, been thrown against walls when she’d been frustrated, and served as a wonderful pressure point when she’d needed sexual relief. Turning the vibe to high, she placed it so the tip sat right over her clit and almost came right away. She fell onto the bed, grabbed the panda and shoved it between her legs so it would hold the vibe in place, then rolled onto her stomach. Perfect.
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She thought of John’s arms again and those incredible shoulders. Her hand wouldn’t even cover his entire shoulder, she realized. His body, so powerful, so graceful, could cover hers completely. He’d rein in that power, his touch light and gentle as his hands explored her body, finding the spots that were ticklish, finding the spots that made her putty in his hands. And then? When he’d turned her muscles to jelly, would he press his advantage? Would he get out the ropes and tie her up for real? Lauren had had that fantasy before. What woman hadn’t? Of being tied and taken. All the fun and none of the responsibility. But John would make her responsible. He’d want her to submit willingly, she just knew it. The tension between her legs jumped exponentially. To put herself at his mercy? She imagined the ropes around her wrists and ankles, his hands roaming across her skin at will, the vulnerability, his goatee brushing against her skin, his hot breath across her pussy. With a cry, she let herself fall over the edge, her body convulsing in waves of pleasure as John’s imaginary tongue flicked across her clit. Giving up the fantasy, she rode the waves as they broke and grew smaller. Only when the last of them ebbed away did she grin and roll over. Damn but he was good—and he wasn’t even here. She glanced at the clock and laughed out loud. She’d set a record. John couldn’t be more than two miles away yet and here she lay, fully sated at his envisioned hands. Sitting up, she pulled the panda and vibe from between her legs, shutting off the battery-operated piece of bliss. “Tomorrow,” she promised herself. “Tomorrow I’ll get my act together.”
***** Of course Beth wanted details. “C’mon, girl. Tell me! Did you let him get lucky?” Lauren made coffee, as at home in Beth’s kitchen as she was in her own. Probably more so. Behind her, the baby played on a blanket Beth had laid out on the floor of the kitchen, her attention caught as much as by her own feet as by the tripod of toys that dangled above her. “No way,” Lauren teased as she spooned coffee into the filter. “I don’t kiss and tell.” “Why not? I do.” Beth had been pretty forthcoming about the relationship she and Paul had forged. Over the years, Lauren had learned to rely on Beth’s instincts in so many things. A natural leader, it was easy to let Beth plan everything and just go along with her. Paul, apparently, had discovered the same thing. Lauren liked Paul. He reminded her of herself. Easygoing, laid-back, not ambitious. No, Paul wasn’t that last. That adjective belonged solely to her. She was the one who couldn’t get herself moving in any direction. The status quo fit her just fine, even if it
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put her in a rut. A rut she’d been enjoying quite well, thank you, until John had come along. “Yeah, well, you and Paul have an interesting…sex life.” “And you need one.” Lauren bent down and pushed a triangle on Emily’s toy to set it swinging. “I don’t want any more short-timers, Beth. Look at this.” She stood and gestured to the homey kitchen, the baby on the floor, the settled feel of the entire scene. “I’m ready for this. And I’m not going to get it if all I do is satisfy my lust.” Beth narrowed her eyes as if Lauren had become an interesting artifact that needed careful study. “Are you really ready for this? For the diapers and the crying and the mortgage and staying home because you can’t get a sitter? Are you really?” Lauren snorted. “Okay, maybe not entirely ready.” She ran her hand through her hair. “But I’m getting there. At least I’ve finally figured out that I do want it. You have to give me credit for that.” The timer on the coffeemaker dinged and Beth got up from the table to pour two cups. “It’s a huge step for you, Lauren. I know that. And I’m glad to see you make it.” Lauren heard the finality in Beth’s voice, a finality that implied, “I hear what you’re saying but pardon me if I don’t believe you”. Not that she blamed Beth. Lauren had been pretty hard to live with these past few months. She sighed. “I guess I’ve been pretty full of myself. I’m sorry, Beth.” Beth chuckled. “You had a right to be. I won’t pretend to understand what you went through over there.” She handed a mug to Lauren and sat beside her. “I’m glad to hear you talking about the future. That’s a good step forward.” “And I’m thinking it’s a future that might just include Big John, if I didn’t scare him away last night.” At Beth’s inquiring eyebrow, Lauren related the fiasco in the parking lot. “Yeah, but he didn’t run away,” Beth pointed out when Lauren finished. “He made a point to give Mrs. Boorman something to gossip about. In fact, you’re going to find your reputation in the apartment complex seriously discussed by the time you get home today.” Lauren laughed. “He didn’t run away. And that’s why I think this one might be—” She stopped and shook her head. “Nope. Not going to say it. Don’t want to jinx it.” “Are you going out with him again?” Before she could answer, her cell phone gave out a chickadee’s chirp. With a blush, Lauren stood up. “I’m about to find out. This is him.” Lauren made for the back deck, sliding the glass door shut behind her as she answered John’s call with a forced gaiety in her voice. “Morning!” “Thought I’d call and see how you were this morning.” His voice sounded husky, as if he’d just gotten up. Lauren found it extremely sexy.
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“I’m doing quite well, thank you. I don’t stay down for long.” She rolled her eyes. Could she possibly be more inane? “Good to hear. There’s a band playing at Parker’s this Friday night. Would you care to join me?” Lauren’s heart beat hard. He wanted to see her again. Tossing her head and affecting a nonchalance she didn’t feel, she answered, “I’d love to. Shall I meet you there? Or…” She banged the heel of her hand on her forehead. She was such an idiot. She didn’t want to meet him there, she wanted him to pick her up and ravish her. Hadn’t he promised to tie her up? Focus, Carr, focus. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Don’t eat. If you can last until we get there, they have great chicken wings.” “You’re on.” “See you Friday.” “See you Friday!” She shut the phone and groaned. The door slid open immediately. “Well? Come on, don’t keep me in suspense. Did he ask you out again?” Lauren nodded. “I sounded like a star-struck teenager. I can’t believe I got tonguetied!” Beth wiggled her eyebrows. “I’m pretty sure he’ll manage to straighten out that tongue if you give him half a chance.” Laughing, they went inside, Beth already giving her clothing suggestions and pickup lines. John snapped shut his phone and stared at it, puzzled. Lauren sounded particularly chipper this morning. Bright. Perky. Not adjectives he would’ve used to describe her based on either of their two previous meetings. Was he rushing things to ask her out on another date so soon? Then he remembered the pliant feel of her lips under his. She felt good in his arms. No, she felt incredible in his arms. Yeah, perky or not, Lauren Carr deserved another chance. Through the front window of his bungalow John saw Will pull into his driveway. How long had his friend had that beat-up, old Chevy truck? The red paint had long given way to rust in several places, the tailgate latch replaced with a twist of heavy rope and the springs had sprung years ago. Yet Will clung to the truck as if it were the love of his life. John opened the front door as Will rolled down his window. “Gotta hit the hardware store. Wanna come with me?” “Give me five minutes. Need to find my sneakers.” John couldn’t figure out where his sneakers disappeared to each night. Hadn’t he taken them off yesterday in his bedroom when he went to get dressed for his date with
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Lauren? Nope. Not there. Not in the bathroom or his closet either. He circled around through the living room, into the kitchen and found them beside the back door. That’s right. He’d mowed the lawn and taken them off because they were full of grass. Quickly he opened the door and slapped them, soles together, until most of the dried grass had fallen off. Shoes on, he grabbed his keys, patted his back pocket to be sure he had his wallet and headed out the door. “What’re we shopping for?” John asked, closing the door gingerly lest it fall off its rusty hinges. The screech of metal on metal made him wince. “A can of WD-40, I hope.” “Suppose I probably should give her a splash on that door.” “More like a quart.” Will pulled out of the drive and headed down the street, both windows rolled down in the summer heat. John didn’t bother protesting, The AC had stopped working on this old thing long ago. He looked over at his friend and shook his head. “I cannot see Jill allowing you to keep this rust bucket.” Will’s grin showed his dimples. Jill had often told John it was those dimples that caught her eye and his skill with a rope that captured her heart. Lauren had dimples like that. Would Lauren appreciate John’s skill with a rope? Or would she call the cops on him? “Jill knows better than to come between a man and his vehicle.” John snorted. “This beast long ago lost the privilege of being called a vehicle.” A movement near his foot caught his eye and he sat back in surprise. “Is that a hole in the floor?” “Yeah, it’s new. One of the reasons I’m headed to the store. Figured a strong piece of plywood’ll do it.” “Do what? Will, I feel like Barney Rubble. Are you sure Dino’s not in the backseat?” Will laughed outright at that and turned onto the highway. “Hold on, you’re liable to feel a draft.” Between the wide-open windows and the air rushing up through the hole in the floor, John didn’t even make an attempt at conversation. Will’s dirty-blonde hair, kept in a tidy ponytail for the summer’s reenacting, stayed out of his face. John didn’t have that problem. Too many years in the service trained him to like it nearly nonexistent and easy. They pulled in to the hardware store and John went in with his friend. Inside they parted ways as Will went in search of a short-term solution to his newly air-conditioned truck and John just wandered until he found himself in the rope aisle thinking of Lauren. The first day they’d met he’d told her he would tie her up and make love to her all night long. When he’d said it, he really hadn’t had much more than a fun night in the
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sack in mind. Then she’d gotten skittish over his time in the military. When followed up by a panic attack, it just hadn’t seemed right to prey on her vulnerability. He picked up the end of a particularly thick white rope and considered it. This would be good for an overall tie. A loose one, anyway. Pretty hard to make tight knots with something that thick. He imagined Lauren’s skin crisscrossed with the white and let the rope drop. No. Her coloring needed something with a little more contrast. A slightly thinner black rope had possibilities. This would look quite good wrapped around her body, securing her, keeping her safe. Will came up beside him and John dropped the rope back into place. With a sigh. “Probably going too fast to tie her up in that yet. I don’t even know if she’s going to like her sex kinky.” “Jill likes it. I bought fifty feet and she made me come back for fifty more.” “It works well?” Will nodded. “Very well. She can’t get out of it at all.” “I’ll definitely keep it in mind. Did you get your plywood?” “Yep. They’re cutting it to size now.” The two sauntered over to the counter and picked up the makeshift floor. As they left the store, John glanced back and grinned. “You try telling women hardware stores are sexy places to shop.” “They’re the best! Come on, let’s get this in.” Together they slid the precut plywood into place on the floor. John sat on the seat and tried it out, stomping on it to test it. “Okay, don’t stomp too hard or I’ll need a bigger piece of wood. There’s rust falling every time you stomp,” Will told him. “I think you need a new truck, Will.” “Yeah, I suppose.”
***** Will dropped him back at his place. “Don’t forget, two weekends from now—huge reenactment coming up.” John made a face. “It’s on my calendar. Wouldn’t miss the one hundred fiftieth anniversary of Antietam.” “Next few years are going to be packed with reenactments. You got in at just the right time, newbie.” Will grinned and shook his head. “They’re expecting a couple thousand of us. Gonna be one hell of a weekend, I’ll tell you that.” “Jill coming?” “You betcha. She’s got a dress and everything. Hey! Bring Lauren!” John laughed and got out of the truck. “One step at a time, bud. One step at a time.”
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“Have fun tying up Lauren!” John shut the door and Will’s truck wheezed and sputtered down the drive. Shaking his head, he went inside to examine his bag of bondage toys and make some decisions about how to craft the best scene for a newbie of a different sort.
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Chapter Five Lauren dressed casually, looking as if she’d just thrown on a few things suitable for dinner at a local pub. She wore a full, flowered skirt that swished when she walked, a matching solid T-shirt in soft rose and a celery-green scarf that picked up the colors of her skirt. She wore flat sandals of dark brown, her hair gently pulled back from her face with the artful use of combs and a pair of cloisonné earrings dangled at her ears. Of course, it had taken three outfit changes, several hairstyles and no fewer than six different pairs of earrings to achieve this thrown-together look. The knock on her door came promptly at seven. With a final smoothing touch to her hair, she picked up her clutch purse and opened the door. Damn, but why did men have it so easy? He wore an open-necked blue oxford with the sleeves rolled up. A simple brown belt held up jeans just tight enough to show off his ass, even if she couldn’t see it from here. Tonight he wore a Stetson, which he now pushed back on his head as he gave a low whistle. “You clean up mighty fine, Miss Lauren. Mighty fine.” She laughed. “And good evening to you too, Mr. McAllen.” He held out his arm and she took it, pulling her door firmly shut behind her. With a quick twist of the doorknob to be sure it had locked, she set herself proudly, gave Mrs. Boorman a swish of skirt and disappeared down the hall with her young man. “Hope you’ve had a good day,” he remarked as they walked to the curb where his SUV sat waiting. “I did. And you?” “Quite fine. Thought up all sorts of activities for us.” The way he said the words gave her shivers. Activities? For them? Immediately her thoughts flew back to his threat to tie her up and make love to her. But they were at the car and he’d opened the door for her. Instead of taking his bait, she simply smiled coyly and accepted his hand up. Parker’s, a mid-sized pub with lots of live music and friendly banter, lived up to John’s promise of excellent chicken wings. Hot for him, mild for her. “No thanks,” she told him when they ordered. “I like the lining of my throat, thank you very much.” The band’s equipment sat ready for them in the corner, but as yet, no one had come forward to play. The waitress delivered their wings and a beer for each of them. Lauren gestured to the array. “What time do they start?” The waitress grinned. “Whenever they get here.” Lauren only raised an eyebrow and the waitress explained. “MishMASH is a unique group of guys. You’ll see. I expect they’ll be coming in soon.” 45
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She left and John explained. “These are all older guys who get together and play for the fun of it. They have a standing gig here to play every Friday night. The setup you see there?” He gestured to the mikes and speakers, the drum set covered with a drop cloth and a low piano that had seen better years. “That all belongs to the owner here. He provides it for bands who don’t have the money—or roadies—to bring their own stuff.” “And MishMASH doesn’t have a lot of their own stuff.” “Right.” At her doubtful look, John just gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, you’re going to love them.” They dove into the chicken wings, the honey sauce of the mild wings dripping from her fingers and the tangier hot sauce making John grab for the celery and bleu cheese. Their banter, light and frivolous, felt just fine to Lauren and she relaxed into the ease of the evening as she downed her second beer. John listened to Lauren tell him about a band she’d heard play overseas and noted how her guard seemed to be down tonight. She spoke of being away from home as if it were the most natural thing in the world. From his own experiences, he understood how two extremes could live in the same psyche. There were times he “forgot” about his years in the desert. There were times he actually thought he enjoyed it. And then there were times when the nightmares came. Tonight Lauren remembered only the good things. He liked watching the way her eyes sparkled as she told the story of the band’s mishaps. He wondered if she’d been a groupie, she seemed to know so much about them. But then her eyes widened and her head dropped as if she didn’t want to be seen. A hand dropped on his shoulder and he turned as a loud voice boomed out. “Hey, John, how the hell are you?” John looked up, relieved to see Pete, the lead singer of MishMASH. “Hey, Pete. I’d shake your hand, but…” he gestured with the chicken wing he held as an excuse. Pete laughed. “It’s okay, bud. I’ll excuse you this time. Who’s your friend?” Lauren looked up and John could swear he saw guilt in her eyes. “Lauren! I didn’t know you were back in town!” “Hey, Pete.” Her voice was faint and her smile weak. Obviously they’d met before and Lauren didn’t want to renew the friendship. Pete didn’t seem to notice. “This’ll be great. All the guys are here. Ted, Shaheim, Sinbad. Hey, don’t tell them you’re here. Let’s spring a surprise on ’em!” “No, that’s—” “I gotta go get set up. This’ll be so cool!” 46
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“Pete, I…” Lauren called after him, but the singer had already left. John simply raised an eyebrow in inquiry. Lauren dropped her chicken wing onto her plate and sat back. “Damn it. The band I was telling you about? This is them.” She closed her eyes then opened them in entreaty. “John, I didn’t know…” “And Pete’s the lead singer you…spent some time with.” She nodded. “It was nothing. You can see that. He didn’t even try to kiss me.” John understood perfectly. Liaisons overseas in the heat of battle had urgency and meaning that faded upon returning home. He had a few of those in his past as well. Yet, with Lauren, he wanted something more. She would understand his demons just as much as he understood hers. When he told her about them. Tonight, however, her relationships and demons came first. “We don’t need to stay.” For a moment he thought she would take him up on his offer to leave. Then she took a deep, steadying breath and put both hands, palms down, on the table. “I’d like to stay. But I need another beer.” John grinned. “That’s the spirit. Give ’em hell right back at ’em.” That made her laugh out loud and John liked the sound. “We were together in the hospital unit,” she explained. She nodded with her chin as she picked up her wing again. “Ted and Shaheim were orderlies, Pete was another of the nurses. I never knew Sinbad real well, but you can tell which one he is.” “The big, black, bald drummer?” “Right the first time.” “Not his real name, I hope.” She laughed. “I doubt it. He never said much. Was pretty quiet.” With Sinbad on drums, Ted on the bass and Shaheim on piano, Pete rounded out the quartet with lead guitar. With no introduction, they launched into a rousing rendition of Anchors Aweigh, getting the patrons to join in on the chorus. John had heard them play several times here at Parker’s and always enjoyed their liveliness. Watching them with Lauren, however, made him thoughtful. He wasn’t concerned about the fact that she’d slept with Pete. That was over there and had no bearing on over here. No, there was something else. Another dynamic at play here he couldn’t quite put his finger on. The band launched into the Army’s song and again, the crowd joined in to keep those “caissons a’rolling along”. From there they went to the “halls of Montezuma” in a salute to the nation’s Marine Corp. From experience he knew they’d launch into the “wild blue yonder” next. Beside him, Lauren chimed in on the choruses for each of the military songs, applauding and whistling with her fingers between her lips at the end. Her third beer was already gone. John knew that was going to be either very good or very bad. 47
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“And now, I’d like to call on an old friend to come up here and sing the last song in this set.” The band members exchanged puzzled glances. John frowned. The four songs of the armed units of the US military forces were the only four in this set. He knew their routine. “Ladies and gentlemen, a special treat tonight. Fresh back home, the Siren of Iraq herself, Lauren Carr!” The three guys in the band broke out in grins. John looked at Lauren, who stepped into the limelight with only a small smile of apology for him. She must’ve known what Pete was going to do and even though she’d protested, she’d decided to stay and sing. With mixed feelings, John watched her take the mike like a pro and nod to the others in the band. The opening notes gave away the number and a smattering of applause greeted the familiar tune. For over ten years it had been the theme song of a popular TV series, although John doubted that more than a handful of viewers actually knew the lyrics. But he did. And so did Lauren. Her voice, a soft, sexy alto sang out the words, “Through the early morning fog I see…” She swayed with the music, losing herself in it. When she got to the words “suicide is painless”, John saw her close her eyes in pain and he had to wonder just how much was an act. Why hadn’t he put it together earlier? MishMASH they called themselves. They started every evening with the same four songs to salute the military. He knew they were all former soldiers, but it never occurred to him that they might have served together in a hospital over there. Not until Lauren stood to sing that haunting song. She finished, opened her eyes and bowed to the audience who sat mesmerized under her spell. Breaking it, she threw up her hands in a whoop and called out to the band, “Come on, boys, let’s finish with a flourish!” Shaheim pounded out the opening notes of Great Balls of Fire and she and Pete shared vocals on the rousing number. Her eyes sparkled and her voice was incredibly good. She’d given him no hint of the talent that lay inside her. Her showmanship put the audience in the palm of her hand. It ended and the house erupted in applause. She was a hit. Giving each of the band members a hug, she waved one last time to the audience and came to rejoin him at their table. “I hope you don’t mind. That was…unexpected. And fun.” “You’ve performed with them before.” John wanted to curse the inanity of the obvious, but he couldn’t quite figure out his feelings all of a sudden. “I did.” She pushed away the remaining now-cold chicken wing and downed the rest of the beer, apparently not realizing she had just finished off his second bottle. The waitress had come through and cleaned out the three Lauren had already polished off. “Do you want to stay for the rest of the set?”
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She shook her head as if suddenly realizing he might be upset. “No, that’s okay. I’d rather not get into a prolonged conversation with them. We’d be here all night.” John signaled for the check, paid it, and stood to go. By the time they left, the band had cycled through a ballad, another sing-along and was moving into a Coldplay piece. Lauren waved and blew them kisses they promptly returned and the two made their way out into the fading twilight. Lauren felt light on her feet. The music had put her in a wonderful mood. She hadn’t sung like that since being home. They’d had some good times over there. The one-night stand with Pete she had brushed out of her memory and she gave it a mental swat as it tried to nag at her now. And beer? How long since she’d indulged in a glass of beer? No, more than a glass. She giggled at the thought and, at John’s glance at her, tried to put on a straight face. Yeah, she’d had more than a glass tonight, that was for darn sure. “I’m not drunk,” she announced. “I didn’t think you were.” He handed her into the SUV with the same polite care he always took of her. “You didn’t expect me to sing.” He shrugged and closed the door. For some reason that miffed her. When he got in the other side, she confronted him. “You didn’t think I could sing.” “I never really thought much about it. You have a good voice.” “Thank you.” He started the car and she couldn’t decide whether to pout or not. Hadn’t he just said she had a good voice? Why did she think she’d been insulted? He took the turn to her apartment and she shook her head. Somehow she’d blown it tonight. Or he had. Not that she’d wanted to go to bed with him tonight. Hadn’t she just told Beth she wanted something more? Why couldn’t she think straight? The SUV stopped at the curb of her building, but John made no move to get her door as he usually did. He sat back, looking at her, and Lauren shrugged guiltily. “Guess I probably shouldn’t have gotten up to sing. That wasn’t very polite of me to leave you at the table like that.” Did she just slur her words? “Is that what you think?” “You haven’t said a word since we got in the car. I don’t know what to think.” John put his fingers under her chin and tilted her head toward him. Leaning forward, he gave her a chaste kiss. “I think you had a good time with some former friends.” “I had a good time with you.” She smiled. “They just happened to be there. To be honest, I didn’t even know any of them were back in the States yet.” “But you’re glad they are.”
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“Of course I am.” She sat back, puzzled. “No one wants to see anyone left over there. Do the job and get home, that’s what I feel we should do.” “Lauren, you’re drunk.” She pulled herself upright, ready to argue with him. But then her breath came out in a rush. “Okay, you got me there. Not drunk, but certainly feeling no pain.” “I’m going to take you inside and put you to bed.” “Only if you’re going to crawl in with me.” He chuckled and got out of the car, coming around to open her door. Lauren let him, deciding she liked this game of chivalry he played with her. He handed her down and she stumbled against his chest. Damn but she liked that chest. She put her palm on his shirt, feeling the strength of his pecs hidden beneath it. “You shouldn’t hide these muscles, you know. I’m betting they’re beautiful.” “That’s it, young lady. You’re officially off limits now.” He picked her up and carried her to the front door. “Mrs. Boorman is going to get quite the show tonight.” Once inside, Lauren headed for the stairs for the short walk up to her apartment, but missed the first step. John laughed at her again and threw her over his shoulder. She squealed and it echoed in the stairwell. Lauren tried to shush the sound, but it just got louder. “John, put me down. You’re going to wake the whole building!” “It’s not me who’s doing the shouting.” He deposited her, took the keys from her fingers and unlocked her apartment door. With a scoop, he picked her up again despite her protestations and carried her inside. Lauren nestled into his arms, feeling warm and cozy and once again protected. Damn him. Why was he always coming to her rescue? She didn’t need rescuing. Or maybe she did. Despite what he thought, she wasn’t drunk. Tipsy, yes. And she wanted him. John tucked the blanket firmly around her shoulders, effectively pinning her hands underneath. “I want to make love to you, Lauren Carr. But when I do, you will be fully awake, fully sober and fully willing to put yourself in my hands.” “You’re not going to make love to me tonight?” John smiled at the childlike simplicity in her voice. “No, Lauren. I’m not. I’ve a raging hard-on for you and I’m going to go home anyway. Good night.” He gave her a chaste goodnight peck on the forehead, smoothed her brow and watched her fall asleep. He hadn’t lied about the hard-on. His pants were uncomfortably tight and temptation lay there looking sexy and ready. But it wouldn’t be right. Damn his sense of chivalry. He shook his head, smiling regretfully at the snoring form of the woman he’d hoped to bed tonight. He sat on the bed and simply watched her sleep for several minutes. Several strands of hair had come loose so he leaned over and pulled out the combs holding it back from her face. Soft 50
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wisps of dark brown glided over her shoulders and John pushed them back with his fingertip. In sleep, the lines of her face softened and he saw what she must’ve looked like before. Before growing up, before getting older, before going overseas and living in that hell. He dropped his hand to his side. He couldn’t judge her. He’d lived through the same hell and had the same scars. With a pang of regret, he stood. Just two old soldiers trying to put their lives back together, that’s all they were. He gave the blanket one last tuck, stood, and went home.
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Chapter Six Lauren woke the next morning, fully dressed, a mouth filled with cotton and with a more-than-minor headache. Somewhere close by a siren blared and as she rolled over, she realized the siren’s call came from the phone beside her bed. She grabbed the receiver and hit several buttons on it in an attempt to shut it up. “Lauren? Lauren, are you there?” Bleary eyed, she stared at it for several seconds before she realized her sister’s voice came from the receiver in her hand. She put it to her ear. “Yeah, I’m here. Although I might be dead.” “Lauren, it’s nearly eleven and you said you’d be here before ten to help with the setup for—” “Oh, my God. Annie, I’m so sorry. I overslept. I’ll be right there.” She hung up the phone and only afterward realized her sister had been still talking. Throwing back the covers, she stared in confusion at the clothes she still wore from last night, the skirt a tangle around her legs, the T-shirt wrinkled and, she sniffed it, smelling like beer? How many had she drunk last night? She knew better than to drink more than one beer. Her inability to hold her liquor had been a big joke overseas. Overseas. MishMASH. Singing with the band. She groaned. How could she have done that to John? Just left him like that and gone up and done an entire set? Was it an entire set? Or only a few songs? It didn’t matter. He’d taken her out for dinner and she’d blown him off to hang out with…oh my God. Pete. She’d once had a fling with Pete. Did John know? Had she told him when she’d rambled on like an idiot about the band she’d “heard” overseas? Groaning, she stripped out of her clothes. Hoping a shower would help and knowing it would only be painful, she turned the water on hot and forced herself to suck it up. Getting slightly more than tipsy had consequences and she might as well face them. Her phone rang just as she searched for her keys. Tempted to let it go, she decided her sister had already yelled at her for being late, she might as well add a few more minutes to her tardiness. “Lauren here.” “How are you feeling today?” Why did that little bubble have to form in her throat at exactly the moment she heard his voice? “Fine,” she croaked, cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m fine, thank you. And you?”
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The man had put her to bed and that was the best she could come up with? And you? Lauren rolled her eyes. “I’m doing quite well, thank you. I need to spend some time at the Rundel Library and wondered if you’d like to join me for some Dinosaur Barbecue later.” “Is there a band playing?” She liked the sound of his laugh. Maybe he wasn’t mad at her for her heinous behavior of the night before. “No band. Just good barbecue.” “I have to go help my sister with her garage sale but I’ll be done by five or so.” “Perfect. Meet me at the restaurant?” “I’ll be there.” Lauren hung up the phone, a smile on her face. Her behavior couldn’t have been too bad if he wanted to see her again. Of course, he wanted her to meet him there. That implied he didn’t want to have to take her home again. Could he be asking her out to let her down easy? The Dinosaur Barbecue wasn’t exactly a romantic place. It had begun life as a biker-bar kind of place. She tapped a finger on the phone, as she tried to puzzle it out. Outside a siren went by and Lauren jumped. Her sister’s—she was on her way to her sister’s and was already late. Putting thoughts of Big John to the side, she grabbed the keys John had so thoughtfully placed beside the phone and headed out the door. “So that’s it. You’re meeting him for dinner tonight again and you think it’s to let you down? Lauren, that’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.” Lauren’s sister, Annie, put the littlest member of the family back into her playpen, gave her a toy and turned to Lauren. At thirty, Annie had settled, the twenty extra pounds from giving birth twice giving her a matronly air. “Ian, I can’t sell that if you’re playing with it!” she called out to her son, who at the moment was racing little toy cars along a long, yellow track. “Aww, Mom. Do you have to sell this?” “You haven’t played with it for three years. Yes, it’s going.” Lauren watched her nephew careening the toy cars through the loop-de-loop he’d set up and nudged her sister. “It’s new again because he hasn’t seen it in a while. How much you want for it?” “Two-fifty.” “Sold.” “Lauren, you don’t…” Lauren held up her hand. “I’ll keep it at the apartment. Then when he comes over, it’ll be new again. By the time he’s totally bored with it, Kasey will want it.” She nodded
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at the little girl in the playpen who rewarded her with a toothless smile as she banged her hand on a toy drum. “You’re a softie, Auntie Lauren,” her sister told her as she deposited Lauren’s money in the shoebox that served as a cash register. “Yeah, well. I only have one nephew and one niece so far, so I might as well spoil them.” Her sister’s eyes narrowed. “And what about your own? Maybe this John is—” Lauren held up her hand to stave off her sister’s words. “Stop right there. We’ve had two dates and dinner tonight will be the third. And probably the final.” Annie backed down but Lauren could tell from the set of her lips the subject wasn’t closed. Thankfully a car pulled up and the couple got out to come up the drive and look over the stuff for sale. Lauren went into the house to get a pitcher of lemonade while Annie negotiated a price with them for an old stepstool that really only needed a new coat of paint. “Sixty-six dollars and eighty-five cents,” Annie proclaimed at the end of the day. “Not bad for all the junk I got rid of.” “You running this again tomorrow?” Lauren asked, surveying the meager pickings that were left. “No. Let’s just box this stuff up and I’ll take it to the Salvation Army on Monday. Ian, go get the boxes from the living room, will you?” “Aww, Mom.” “Now, Ian.” Lauren winked at her nephew who grinned in return and they headed into the house together. As Ian grabbed two large boxes, Lauren picked up her wallet from the kitchen counter and dropped it into her jeans pocket. She held the door for him then followed him back to the garage where Annie had already begun to bag up the leftover clothes Ian had outgrown. “I’m headed out,” she told her sister. “Give him a kiss for me.” Lauren shook her head as Ian made a face. “You haven’t even met John.” At the name, Ian’s face lit up. “John? Is that the Civil War guy? He let me hold his rifle!” “Yes, Ian, the same John. I’m having barbecue with him tonight.” “Cool. I like him.” Annie grinned at her son’s approval. “You’ll have to bring him for dinner one of these nights. Or maybe next Sunday. We could do an old-fashioned Sunday dinner and—”
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Lauren stopped her. “Annie. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? I’m driving myself to Dinosaur Barbecue and eating messy ribs with a guy I’ve known all of a week. Let’s just leave it at that, shall we?” “Well you’d better get changed. It’s nearly five now.” With a wave, Lauren walked to the street and down three houses where she’d parked her little runabout car. Five gears, manual transmission, four little chipmunks inside working their hearts out. She loved it. Great on gas, good on the road and just perfect for her. As she unlocked the door and got in she thought of John in the passenger seat and chuckled. His shoulders were so broad he’d take up most of the interior. With a sigh, she remembered the feel of those hard shoulders against her stomach. Had he really slung her over his shoulder and carried her up the stairs? She remembered that part. Did Mrs. Boorman see him do that? With her luck? Probably. A quick glance at the clock on her dash told her she had just enough time to stop at her apartment and change into a dress. Maybe he was going to dump her and maybe not. But she’d go down fighting. John looked at his watch and swore. The traffic ahead of him didn’t move and Lauren would get there, wait for him…and wait for him…and wait for him until she got tired or, worse, thought he’d blown her off and leave. At his side, his cell phone gave a final chirrup as the battery gave up and John swore again. Lauren glanced at the clock in her car as she drove along the open lanes of the highway. An accident on the other side had traffic backed up for two miles. Glad she didn’t have to deal with that, she got off at the downtown exit and couldn’t believe her luck in getting a parking place right beside the restaurant. Of course, she gave the lot a quick examination out of habit before she reminded herself she didn’t need to do that. No one lay in wait to blow her up. Turning off the car, she checked her watch. Perfect timing. Using the rearview mirror for a final check of her lipstick, she took a moment to compose herself before getting out of the car. This was the important date. This was the make-or-break time. Putting a smile on her face, she got out of the car and waltzed into the restaurant to find John. Except he wasn’t there. She scanned the place and saw no sign of those magnificent shoulders. Feeling silly, she retreated outside to wait for him there at the door of the restaurant. A passing policeman gave her the once-over in her somewhat low-cut red dress and sexy sandals and Lauren beat a hasty retreat to her car. Better to wait inside than for the cops to think she was looking for a john. Well, she was, actually. A big John. And did he have a big Johnny to go with those wonderful shoulders? Appalled at the way her thoughts headed, she suppressed a giggle and turned the rearview mirror so she could see his SUV when he pulled in and settled in to wait. 55
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A half hour later she no longer found any cause to giggle. Had he stood her up? She checked her phone. No messages. Maybe she should call him? No, that would sound whiny. “John, I’m downtown waiting for you, are you going to bother showing up?” And that sounded bitchy. Had he planned this all along? Call her up, set up a date to dump her and then get cold feet and not show up? She thought him more of a man than that but cowardice came in many forms. Her stomach growled. Damn. And she really had her heart set on barbecued ribs too. Making a decision, she got out of the car, locked it and slammed it harder than she meant to. She could damn well eat without him. They did take-out here. She’d place her order, get her food and go home. Where she belonged. He pulled up just as she exited with her order. John saw her heading to her car and beeped his horn gently to catch her attention. Unfortunately, the manufacturers of his car horn didn’t think along the same lines he did and the horn blared out, the brashness startling even him. She jumped and scooted around to the other side of her vehicle, putting it between the noise and her body. He swore. “Idiot. You know better.” He didn’t even turn off the engine before he was out of the car with his hands out and open. “Lauren, it’s me. I’m sorry I’m late, I got stuck in traffic and—” She straightened, plastered a smile on her face and took a deep breath before stepping carefully around the front of her car. He could see her shaking and felt guilty. “I waited until I was too hungry to wait any more. I caved to the torture of sitting here smelling it.” “Don’t blame you. I’d have given in too.” They looked at one another and John realized he’d have to make the first step. He was, after all, the one who’d been late. “Would you mind eating that inside? We could still get a table.” “You still want to have a date?” John looked at her, puzzled. “Why wouldn’t I?” Her guard remained up. “Just making sure.” Coming to her, he took the take-out package from her hands and gave her a light kiss. “I would very much like to go inside and eat dinner with you.” Her smile came tenuously, but it came. “It’s a deal.” She got a table for them while he waited in line and ordered. By the time he got his drink and joined her, all traces of their rough beginning seemed erased and they started with the light banter he so enjoyed from her. He explained about the dead cell phone and the accident on the bypass and she forgave him. They spoke of their day, Lauren telling stories about the people who’d come to the garage sale and John talked about the information he’d found researching the Civil War’s impact on the Rochester area. But 56
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then something caught her attention and that haunted look came back into her eyes. He turned to see what she looked at. A man wearing a military cap sat in a wheelchair in line. As the man turned, John saw he’d lost both legs. “Lauren, it…” She waved her hand. “Nothing worth talking about. Now, I believe you were telling me something about how sexy hardware stores are?” John let her steer the subject away from herself again, but knew the time of reckoning drew closer. If he wanted a fling, he wouldn’t care. He’d have wonderful, kinky, glorious sex with her and be done with it. But he did want more. He liked her. Peeling away her layers intrigued him because the more he peeled, the more he found to like. She loved kids, had a talent with nursing and had a sister. John assumed there was a brother-in-law to go with the sister since there was also a nephew and a niece, but Lauren hadn’t mentioned him other than to say his name was Dave. Lauren pushed her tray away and sat back, two ribs left on her plate. “That’s it for me, I’m done.” “Want to take them home?” “Sure, although I see my two ribs are the only ones left.” She gestured to his empty plate. “Told you I like my barbecue.” Lauren boxed up the remains of her dinner. “This’ll be a nice lunch for me tomorrow.” Out in the parking lot, John slid his arm around her as they maneuvered through the now-full lot. “Lauren, I don’t want this evening to end yet.” She looked up at him, the sun’s last rays making him glow like a knight in golden armor. “I don’t want it to end yet either, John.” Her eyes twinkled. Not only had he not broken up with her, he wanted to see more of her. How much more? Feeling daring, she put out her chin and challenged him. “As I recall, you once promised to tie me up and make love to me all night long.” John stepped closer. “Promises must be kept.” Lauren turned her face up toward him in challenge. “Yes, they must.” “Get in the car and drive. Follow me home.” “Your command is my wish.”
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Chapter Seven They pulled up to a modest, one-and-a-half-story house, the Cape Cod design giving it a very all-American family look. Lauren’s smile deepened to think that he might actually tie her down in a house with such a wholesome façade. But wasn’t that indicative of her as well? Her own passions burned deep behind the professional face she presented to the world. Her grin turned wry as she realized she no longer practiced her profession. Too many ghosts, too much hurt. She gave herself a mental shake and instead smiled up at him as they walked to the front door. “Last chance to back out,” he warned her as they went along the curved path to the front door. Low bushes and flowers grew beside the walkway, but the fact registered only dimly in her mind. “No backing out here. I’m holding you to your word.” Lauren hadn’t lied when she told him earlier that she counted on his tying her up and making love to her. She didn’t lie now. Didn’t matter that she’d never engaged in that kind of kinky sex. Didn’t matter that she’d never really given it a thought before. He’d planted the idea in her mind and she hadn’t been able to get the image out of her head since. It tantalized and teased her with stray thoughts of fear that, instead of paralyzing her, made her tingle in a very delicious way. Oh yeah. She very definitely wanted John McAllen to be a man of his word. Lauren let him lead her into his small house, part of her wanting to confess everything in her life to him, part of her wary out of habit. A tiny vestibule separated outside from inside, opening into a narrow hallway. John left her in the small area while he switched on a table lamp to his left. The tastefully appointed living room was done up in shades of forest green. A dark patterned area rug set the trim colors for the room with its tan and burgundy. The couch and easy chair matched—solid, forest green fabrics—and picked up the dark green in the narrow stripes of the drapes. A widescreen TV on the far wall boasted an array of electronics beneath it and Lauren recognized several game consoles among them. He pushed a button and soft jazz wafted through the room. A wide opening led to the dining room—she could just see the edge of the table from where she stood. Along the short corridor she stood in lay the kitchen, the light over the stove giving off its fluorescent glow. Beside her were two steps to a landing, then the stairway turned to run along the outside wall of the house to the second floor. Other than the living room rug and the one she stood on in the vestibule, the floors were bare and showed off the house’s original hardwood planking. From somewhere came the light scent of a pine forest. “This house fits you. I can see your hand all over it.” 58
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“Thank you, although I have to admit, my sister helped pick out the furnishings.” “Not a man to match colors?” she teased. “Can’t match patterns,” he corrected. “The colors are easy to see. But she laments that I think plaids and stripes go perfectly fine together.” “Oh dear!” Lauren laughed. “I’m grateful your sister stepped in then!” John came to her side and his very nearness made her stomach flutter. He towered over her, forcing her to look up. Did he know he made her feel petite and diminutive? His fingers caressed her cheek and she knew he did. She closed her eyes and leaned her cheek on his hand. John knew there was an elephant in the room and he decided to tackle the topic head on. Before he could take her the way he wanted, there needed to be total trust between them. There were a few issues they needed to get out of the way. He leaned in as if to kiss her, but murmured instead, “So you’re getting over the fact that I had several tours in the Marines?” She stiffened and John waited. Taking a deep breath, she glanced at him and nodded. “I’m getting there.” John couldn’t be deterred. Leading her into the living room, he sat on the couch, waiting until she sat demurely beside him. “You were in the service too. And I saw you with the band. Why the reluctance with dating a military man?” She shook her head. “I’m… I was trying to put all that behind me. I’ve had enough of the military for a while.” “So naturally you sing in a bar with a band and bring your nephew to a Civil War reenactment. Because you’ve had enough of the military.” “Actually, the Civil War thing was an accident. Beth’s a good friend and we decided to take the kids and get away for the day. Ian wanted to go to the museum because it’s one of his favorite places. I didn’t know about the reenactment until we got there, but,” she paused to shrug, “Ian enjoyed it.” “I’m glad you were there.” When she didn’t say anything, he added, “So is Chuck.” “Chuck? Oh, your friend with the broken leg.” “You make a good nurse.” “That’s behind me now.” Her voice went flat as if there would be no more discussion of this topic. All his careful peeling only brought him to a layer made of brick. He needed a change in tactics. Sledgehammers brought down walls but tended to break things in the process. He sensed she wanted to talk to him but habit kept the wall in place. Perhaps all Lauren needed was a little nudge?
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Lauren sat erect, unsure what John wanted from her. She’d come here to get laid after days of deliberation, and here he sat, bringing up his military service. Hadn’t he gotten it yet? She wasn’t ready to share her past with him. Or was she? Looking around the comfortable room, she felt again that warm, safe, protected feeling creep over her. John wouldn’t make fun of her—hadn’t he proved that already? Although her defenses rose again out of habit and fear, she felt torn between wanting to fling herself into the safety of his arms and wanting to take the easy way out and run. As if he could read the warring emotions, John simply watched her a moment then took her hand in his. “Tell me.” Lauren looked at him, seeing not pity but safety in his look. Her shoulders slumped. She liked him. A lot. She might even have fallen in love with him. He might be the one to run away once he realized how deep her memories scarred her. Yet she had to take the risk. Any man worth having would be a man who could accept her for all her faults. “I was an Army nurse—career Army. Ever since I was little and watched M*A*S*H on television with my parents, that’s all I wanted to do. I wanted to be like Hot Lips Houlihan and run my own field hospital. My parents, however, did everything in their power to steer me in a different direction. They didn’t want a soldier’s life for their little girl. They wanted me to be like my sister and find a nice man to marry and settle down. At eighteen I wasn’t strong enough to go against them, so I went to college and got a degree in chemistry instead.” “That must’ve been difficult for you.” Lauren shook her head and smiled. “Not really. I was in with all the nursing students and, unbeknownst to my parents, I took all my ‘extra’ courses in the heavier nursing subjects. I graduated only a few courses away from getting my RN.” “At one point you said you went to two different colleges.” “Actually one college and one university. I graduated from Nazareth, magna cum laude, with no job. I didn’t tell my parents I didn’t have a job because I wasn’t looking for one, I told them there just wasn’t much call for chemists at the moment and that I’d like to go on and get my master’s in the meantime.” “They bought that?” Lauren shrugged. “Not really. I finally broke down and told them I really wanted to be a nurse and that I wasn’t that far from getting the degree I really wanted. They weren’t happy, mostly because they don’t see nursing as prestigious as being a chemist, but I finally got them to agree to allow me to live at home with minimal rent while I went through the University of Rochester’s program, graduating with a master of science…in nursing.” John’s thumb traced over the back of her hand as he held it, giving her a warm feeling of security. “So,” John prompted, “you got the degree. Did you enlist without their blessing?” 60
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A small shadow passed over her face as she shook her head. “No. I got my degree and was to start a new job at a doctor’s office not too far from home. Not exactly the excitement I’d hoped for, but it was a job and it made my parents happy. Then came the car crash…and suddenly they were gone and it didn’t matter anymore.” “I’m sorry.” His soft words spoke volumes of understanding. Lauren looked at him with dry eyes. “Thank you. I’m sure you’ve figured out we didn’t have the best relationship in the world. Annie was the good child, I was the difficult one. Spent a lot of time feeling guilty over that. Then I joined the Army, got sent to Iraq, and didn’t have time for guilt anymore.” “And yet that guilt is still there.” Lauren shook her head. “Not really. Sadness, though. I never knew my parents as an adult. I would like to have gotten to know them on a different level and that’s never going to happen. That makes me sad sometimes.” John nodded. “‘When I was a child I spake as a child…’” “Exactly. They would’ve hated me being away and in danger so much but now that I’m back and safe? I would love to sit and talk away the afternoon and discuss philosophy and religion and politics—all those subjects I shunned before.” It felt good to tell the story. Up until now, only Beth, Annie and one other knew how much trouble she had with her parents. In the US Army, personal issues were left where they belonged—at home. She’d been trained to do a job that left no room for ruminations of the past or what might have been. Talking to John was far better than talking with the military psychologists. Those people were overworked and underpaid for the problems they had to help soldiers cope with. John sat quietly listening and Lauren knew he understood even the things she didn’t say. She didn’t need to explain her love of the ideal concerning her service in Iraq. She didn’t need to tell him how much she felt she was helping both Iraqis and American. And British. And Polish. And…so many more. “So you joined the Army as a nurse but things have changed since the Korean conflict. No more MASH units.” Lauren’s smile was small, but it was a smile. “Nope. No more MASH. More emphasis on getting the wounded to stationary hospitals that treat a wider range of ailments. I remember one Iraqi kid who came in with an infected finger from a sliver he got sliding into a home base made of a wooden slat. We made a difference in his life because he got to see the helpful side of Americans, not the blowing-up side. Of course, there were also the soldiers and civilians blown up by IEDs. We treated them all.” She no longer saw John’s living room. Instead she saw the tables of wounded. You could never tell who would make it and who wouldn’t. Two men, side by side with similar wounds—one would go home and live a good life and the other would be dead before the end of the night.
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She shuddered and forced the memory away. “What about you? You said you were in the Marines?” John leaned against the cushions. “Like you, I wanted to be in the service ever since I was a kid. My dad had been Army, my grandfather Navy. I had to keep up the tradition of rebellion, so…I became a Marine.” Lauren smiled and also leaned back. John understood. She relaxed only when they weren’t talking about her. That was fine with him. There were some things she should probably know about him. And maybe, knowing his past, she’d realize she couldn’t outrun her own. “But I didn’t just want to be a grunt. Wanted to be an officer and command men in battle. So I went to the Citadel in Charleston, South Carolina.” Lauren gave a low whistle. “Must’ve been tough for a Yankee down there.” “You’ve no idea. But I wasn’t going to let any Southern boys think they could win the War Between the States by pushing around this Yankee boy. I knew I’d be in for a tough time and graduated well and with the respect of many of those ‘rebels’.” “So you were planning to be career Marine the way I planned to make a career out of patching up you guys.” He knew she tried to keep her tone light, but John heard the underlying accusation. “That pretty much sums it up. Of course, the goal in battle is not to get hurt and a good leader knows that. A great leader is the one whose men come home.” “And which were you?” The softness of her voice belied the hardness of the question. “I was only good at first,” he answered. With a sigh, he ticked off the names. “Mortimer, Jones, Wizard, Pitbull. Four men killed in the first offensive I led. Three of them were killed when they stepped on a mine. But the fourth, Pitbull, he was hit by a mortar round. Not a lot of damage to his legs, but a lot of bleeding. I knew first aid, but didn’t know enough. I couldn’t save him.” Lauren could hear the pain in his admission. She put a hand on his arm. “It wasn’t your fault.” He smiled wryly. He took her hand and the look he gave her remained steady. “I know. I came to terms with it by determining it would never happen again. I started hanging around the medics in my free time, getting them to teach me the tricks of their trade.” “Didn’t you have a medic with you in your unit in that first battle?” “Mortimer.” One of the first ones killed. She nodded. “So you learned to be the backup medic.”
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“It should be part of every officer’s training. I lobbied for that when I got stateside again but the wheels of the military turn slowly.” Lauren made a sound of understanding and he turned the conversation back to her. “So I have some experience with…coming home from that.” “I see that you do.” Some of the tension had gone from her shoulders but John knew one conversation wouldn’t be enough to erase the deep cuts her memories made in her soul. “Thank you, John. It actually does help. Your knowing what it’s like.” He still held her hand and now brought it to his lips, giving it a gentle kiss. Her voice remained soft. “We both had rough times and we both survived them. I’m almost glad your friend Chuck broke his leg just so we could meet and survive together for a while.” That got a chuckle and the seriousness of their talk was broken. John stood, pulling Lauren up and sweeping her into his arms. He leaned in as if to kiss her, instead whirling her around into a two-step to the quick tempo of the music. Laughing, she let him lead her through several steps before the music ended and the song switched to a slower beat. Except he didn’t let her go. Still dancing, he held her lightly, his hands guiding her around his living room. Lauren sighed and leaned against his shoulder, liking how they fit together. She’d told him the truth when she admitted that their talking about their pasts helped. The Army psychologists understood as well, but their offices tended to be cold, inhospitable places for her psyche. Here in the warmth of John’s living room, she felt as if he’d created an enclave of safety just for her. She sighed again, feeling the load on her shoulders lighten considerably. “I hope those sighs are of contentment…” She turned her face up to him, smiling from the heart for the first time all evening. “Very much so. Thank you. You make me feel…” “Feel?” he prompted when her voice trailed off. “Safe.” She snuggled in closer, knowing full well what that admission might cost her and deciding it would be worth the price. “Excellent. Now that I’ve lulled you into a false sense of security, I can proceed with my nefarious plans.” Chuckling, she pulled away. “And what nefarious plans are those?” “Why, to tie you up and make love to you all night long.” He dropped his voice. “Or did you forget?” Lauren’s heart jumped right into her throat. After a moment, she shook her head and managed to get the words out. “I didn’t forget. I haven’t stopped thinking about it all week long.” “I’d still like to, you know.” 63
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“I haven’t frightened you off with my tales of woe?” She tried to keep her voice light, only a slight waver giving away her nervousness. Lauren wanted this, she wanted him. Desperately. “Lauren,” John stopped dancing altogether, keeping her in his arms. She tried not to tremble, to show how close he stood to her vulnerability. A false step and the walls around her psyche would harden into concrete, keeping him out, and she didn’t want that. She wanted, needed, for him to like her in spite of all her problems, her stresses, her frailties. John bent his head toward hers and she barely breathed. His lips brushed against hers and she closed her eyes and leaned in. When he deepened it, she opened for him, gave herself over to him, her arms reaching up to encircle his neck and hold on. How many months had she held herself together? How long had she kept it all inside, insisting that she could handle everything herself? That she didn’t need anyone else in her life telling her what to do or how to do it? That she’d had enough of taking orders— and enough of giving them? The kiss ended and John looked at her. Lauren sighed and considered, wanted nothing more than to rest easy in this man’s arms. To let him deal with the problems of the world while she just went along for the ride. She smiled, nodded her permission and John scooped her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing. She squealed and laughed as he carried her up the stairs to his bedroom, all ghosts of the past temporarily banished. He paused only long enough to flip a switch beside the bedroom door, turning on a small, bedside lamp, and she caught only a glimpse of the double bed and of a dark wood nightstand before he laid her down gently on the mattress, his hand coming up to hold her face as he kissed her again. Lauren felt the strength of his muscles under his shirt as he bent over her. Muscles that could crush her if he wanted. Suddenly she longed to feel those muscles, the smooth flesh rippling under her fingers. Living in the present made her feel far more alive than dealing with the past. His shoulders, his arms, she wanted to explore every inch of him. She moved under him, a small whimper of desire escaping from the back of her throat, telling him she wanted more. “You are a very sexy woman, do you know that?” he murmured in her ear, his breath barely moving her hair. “It’s you who make me feel sexy.” Lauren drew him down into another kiss, deciding Beth was right. She did need this. His hand slid under her skirt to cup her nearly naked rear end. She didn’t often wear thongs, yet for tonight the little scrap of fabric had been a good choice. Especially since the warmth of his hand created an answering warmth in all the places he touched. “I will explore every inch of you and give you pleasure many times over. I promise you that.” “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she warned.
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For answer, he kissed her again. Not gently, this time, but with a force calculated to show her just how much he intended to give her. His tongue pressed at her lips and she opened to him, feeling him invade her mouth as she knew he would invade other parts of her. Oh yeah. She wanted this more than anything else in the world right now. Her arms held him tightly, afraid if she let go she might lose herself as he plundered her mouth. Her heart pounded and her pussy opened as the true extent of what he could to do her became evident. And still she urged him on. When he broke the kiss, her head swam. Damn, but he was good. John had been sitting on the bed beside her. Now he stood, pulling off his shirt in one quick motion. Lauren had seen John’s naked torso before, a week ago at the encampment when he’d changed out of his bloody shirt. She hadn’t been meant to see him then, yet the image had stuck with her. Yet now, in the glimmer of the bedside lamp, up close and towering over her, the previous image paled in comparison to the magnificent reality before her. His smooth skin, just dusted with fine hairs, stretched beautifully over muscles honed in more than just the weight room. For a moment, she thought of how effortlessly he’d worked last Sunday, holding a man’s life in his hands as now he held her attention. Except John pulled a scarf off the back of the door beside him and all thoughts fled but one. He really meant it. He would tie her up and make love to her all night long. “Sit up and hold out your wrist.” Lauren smiled demurely at the command in his voice. She swung her legs to the side and did as he instructed, tugging her dress down where he’d pushed it up. Deftly John looped the teal-blue silk scarf over her wrist, tying it loosely enough so that it slid along her forearm, but with an opening too small to fit over the palm of her hand. With a flourish worthy of a prestidigitator, he pulled a second teal scarf from behind him and quickly tied it to her other wrist. Peeking over his shoulder, Lauren saw another set of scarves on the floor, all apparently pulled from the back of the door at the same time. She laughed to see through his trick. “Ah, the lady laughs now but soon she will groan in ecstasy!” He’d pulled her ankle to him, slipping off her sandal and tying the scarf in the same manner. Lauren lifted her arms and swayed the fabric before her, lifting a corner of one scarf and covering the lower half of her face with it. “The lady, cloaked in mystery. How will the sultan have his way with the lovely harem girl, and she still clothed?” John pulled the knot tight on the fourth and final scarf. Without a beat’s hesitation, he knelt up, his hands behind her back, her dress unzipped a second later. “Such mysteries are easily solved, harem girl.” His hands on her arms pulled her to standing as he stood as well. Another second later and her dress lay in a pool at her feet. “Kiss me,” he urged as he bent to take her in his arms. 65
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“Gladly,” Lauren whispered, her arms coming up around his neck as their lips touched. She felt him unclasp her bra and shifted to give him access to her breasts. He obliged, one hand sliding forward to cup her breast in warmth while the other steadied her as he lowered her to the bed.
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Chapter Eight The scarves floated gracefully, wafting a gentle perfume of jasmine as Lauren waved her hands above John’s back. The ends trailed along his skin, tickling and making him smile. He liked seeing the tease in her come out. Her eyes glimmered with mischief in the dim light and John thought of her as a gemstone of many facets. He’d seen her professional side on the field last week, been subject to her repartee as she fenced away his questions, watched in concern as she flashed back to her wartime experience and then held her hand as she let down her guard a little to confide in him. Now, as she sat on his bed wearing nothing but a thong, an unclasped bra and the scarves he’d tied around her ankles and wrists, she showed another facet. That of the playful minx. She would not give up her freedom easily. Instead she played with him, teasing him along with her harem-girl antics. He grinned, glad she was a worthy adversary. Lauren pulled one of the scarves along his shoulder, and with difficulty, John ignored it, turning the tables on her by running his finger over her breasts, just above the bra that still partially covered them. She smiled seductively, letting her hand fall to drape the see-through scarf over his hand, obscuring his vision of her breasts. Undeterred, he took the center of her bra in his fingers and pulled. Slowly, maddeningly slowly, he brought it down her belly, the straps sliding along her arms. When one became caught on her elbow, she wiggled it free while John continued to remove the garment. It came free of her hands and he took a moment to untangle it from the scarves. Lauren used that moment to again drape the silk over her breasts. Even though the room’s temperature reflected the summer heat, John could see the twin bumps under the silk that showed how much she enjoyed this play. His cock, already stirring, responded more strongly to the sight and John eased himself forward, wanting a better look and a more comfortable position. Lauren pulled the silk from her breasts. He couldn’t resist. Bending farther, his lips encircled her nipple in a tender kiss. She tasted sweet, like nectar sucked from a flower and he wanted more. Gently biting her nipple, he made sure all her attention centered on her breasts while he took her hand and raised it over her head, ostensibly to get better access. While she was thus occupied, he looped the silk over the bedpost knob and tied it securely. Only then did he once again stand. Her eyes, soft with seduction, watched as he unzipped his jeans and slid them to the floor. He’d worn no socks with his loafers, which he simply kicked off and left under the bed. Catching her gaze with his, he sat beside her, trailing the backs of his fingers over the beautiful mounds of her breasts. Only then did she move, or try to.
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When her right arm didn’t come as she commanded, she frowned and tugged harder. He chuckled. “Didn’t think those scarves were only for decoration, did you?” “Then you really mean to… That is…” Keeping his voice neutral, he answered, “I really do.” This was the crucial moment. He would never tie a woman against her will, but Lauren didn’t know him well enough to understand that yet. If he pushed too hard, she might have another panic attack. If he wasn’t strong enough, she wouldn’t feel safe. He stepped onto the tightrope. “You can tell me you don’t want this, Lauren. If you want to say, ‘thanks, it’s been fun, now untie me and let me go,’ I’ll do exactly that. I will still want to make love to you because you are a beautiful, sexy lady. You, however, have the right to refuse at any moment.” “So if I said to untie me right now, you’d do it?” “Yes.” “But if I said to leave it and make love to me?” John leaned down. “I will promise you a night like you’ve never experienced before.” He took her lips in a gentle kiss. “That’s a pretty big boast.” He nodded. “Yep. Want to call me on it?” A slow smile spread across her face. “I do. Leave the scarf alone and prove it, big man.” For answer, John hooked his fingers in her thong and eased it down and off. The sight of her mound, shaved bikini style, distracted him a moment and he paused to kiss the spot just above her clit. Her intake of breath made him smile and he slipped the panties off the rest of the way. In a fluid motion, he dropped them on his discarded clothes with one hand while, with the other, he pulled on the scarf tied to her right ankle. In seconds, she was fastened top and bottom on one side. He knelt beside the bed, lightly running his fingers up along the inside of her leg. She squirmed a little and giggled. “That tickles.” “And does it tickle if I touch you…here?” He petted the small patch on her mound. “Mmm, no, that doesn’t tickle at all.” “I’m willing to bet it makes you wet. Shall I see?” Without waiting for her assent, he plunged a finger down along her slit, the dampness evident immediately. She gasped and arched her back, her eyes wide with spiked arousal. “I’ve been wet for some time now,” she managed, her words sounding strangled and breathless as he rubbed his finger over her clit. “Oh you have, have you?” He brought his finger up to his mouth, making sure she was looking at him before he licked it clean. “Ah, good clean living, I see. You taste of honey—wonderful.”
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“That’s me, a honey bee.” She still teased with him, yet her eyes had a distinctly unfocused glaze. He smoothed the hair from her face, and, half lying beside her, pulled her into his arms as he kissed her again, giving her a taste of herself from his lips. “More along the lines of an intoxicating draught of beer, I was thinking,” he told her as his hand came up her belly to cup a breast. Taking the nipple in his mouth, he licked it to hardness, feeling his cock answer. But Lauren was a woman to be savored and he flicked his tongue over her nipple to judge the sounds she made. The contented sighs that she’d given him earlier now gave way to a low groan deep in the back of her throat. He was pretty sure he could make her squeal too. With a final, big lick, he stood up. She didn’t disappoint him. The sudden loss of his touch made her voice go up several octaves in protest. “Sorry,” he told her, completely unrepentant. “I’m not done tying you down yet.” The room tended to get stuffy in the summer, so John took a moment to raise the window on the opposite side of the room. Immediately a soft breeze came in, tossing the edges of the light curtains. For privacy’s sake, he closed the louvers, allowing the fresh air to enter, but not allowing the neighbors into his bedroom. A bit more distance than the width of a driveway, but not a whole lot more, separated the houses in this neighborhood. The whine of a window air conditioner from the house next door wafted in on the breeze and John shook his head. Nothing but a waste of electricity. Maybe it was all the hot nights in the desert that made him appreciate the feel of a cool breeze over his naked body as he slept, maybe it was his innate sense of responsibility to the environment, but he had never had the urge to encase himself in machine-made coolness while he slept. He turned back to Lauren where she lay on top of his bed, her naked body responding to the breeze, and decided those coverings under her needed to go. Moving to the bottom of the bed, he pulled the comforter and sheet from beneath her. While pulling them down first might have been easier, he wouldn’t have gotten to see the wonderful undulations she made as she raised first her back, then her hips and finally her legs. The moment John had set eyes on this particular bed in the furniture store, he had decided the wooden construction had been designed with bondage in mind. The smooth curl of the wood along the top of the head- and foot boards gave way to a series of posts about one inch by one inch in dimension, making the bed look like a jail cell on either end. He’d tied Lauren’s right side to the wider posts on the edge because that gave him a side he could stand close to without too much mattress getting in the way. But the scarves wouldn’t reach all the way to the other side of the double bed. That didn’t matter. Taking her free ankle firmly in his hand, he pulled the scarf through a bar not quite halfway over. That spread her legs quite nicely and gave him a good view of
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her pussy, but still left room for him to lie down beside her if he were so inclined. Standing back, he admired the curves of her body as she blushed under his gaze. “You are a beautiful woman, do you know that?” “Thank you for saying that, but I’m not more than fair.” She brushed a stray hair from her forehead with her still-free hand. John noted she managed to artfully drape the trailing scarf over her breasts in the process. Shaking his head, he spoke as if thinking aloud. “I never understood why beautiful women can’t see their own beauty.” He bent and gathered the scarf in his hand, taking time to caress her breast with the backs of his fingers. Still keeping his tone deliberately conversational, he pulled her wrist up and tied it to the corresponding post in the headboard so her leg and arm were symmetrical. “Beautiful women have something the majority of women do not.” “And what is that?” He could hear a trace of nervousness in her voice and didn’t blame her. What they were doing took a lot of trust on her part. One of the reasons he’d taken his time tying her had been to build that trust. Lying down beside her on the bed, he put his arm around her waist, propping himself up with his head on his hand, letting her get used to his dominance. “I think beautiful women, no matter what their current situation, have a spirit of adventure. They shine from within with a need to experience life and all it has to offer. Like you, they have an elegant charm.” He brushed a kiss on her temple. His words seduced her and Lauren wanted to believe him. Would he say such things to her when he’d already gotten what he wanted? She’d agreed to let him tie her up and now he worked to fulfill his promise to make love to her all night long. Heat radiated from his body, stretched beside her, his arm lying across her as a shield against the night. She listened to his words and let herself be carried away by them, even if she didn’t fully believe them. For tonight, his words banished rational thought and wove an existence where everything was perfect. With a contented sigh, she smiled, enjoying the dream. “The lack of movement can be a powerful aphrodisiac,” he murmured and Lauren nodded agreement. She tried to tug her arms down—the inability to do so sent a shiver straight to her pussy. John moved his hand up along her belly to her breasts again, cupping the one farthest from him and bouncing it slightly in his palm. When he bent and drew the nearer nipple into his mouth she shuddered as he played her body, mind and emotions. When he bit the nipple, an involuntary cry forced itself from her throat. He didn’t let go. If anything, he increased the pressure and Lauren gasped, her body instinctively moving away. The ties, however, prevented her from going very far and a spasm of pleasure coursed through her pussy. She moaned as she approached the brink of orgasm.
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Except John chose that precise moment to let go. He popped his head up, grinning. “You like that?” “Didn’t think I would,” she answered, trying to focus on his grin. “But yeah, I did…do.” “Then maybe you’ll like this as well.” The hand that cupped her breast suddenly squeezed, compressing her breast in his powerful hand. She arched her back as another spasm coursed through her. John chuckled. “Told you being tied and helpless was arousing.” “Don’t stop now. This is wonderful.” He put his lips near hers. “I don’t intend to stop until you’ve come so many times you’ve lost count.” Their lips touched and Lauren felt his full power unleashed. He ravaged her mouth, bruising her lips. She opened to him, wanting to take that force into herself, wanting to be fed by it, consumed by it, remade by it. His hand slid along her side and under to possess her ass and she would’ve brought her knees up to invite a deeper touch but they were held fast. The heat in her pussy threatened to explode. Her pussy was open, ready to take him. She wanted him, she wanted the orgasm and she moaned her need into his mouth. He released her as he shifted his weight, bringing his hand forward and plunging his finger along her slit once more. The small pressure on her clit was all she needed. Her muscles tensed in the thrall of agony. Would this glorious torture never end? A strangled cry burst from her throat. John pressed ever so slightly harder against her clit and her body exploded in spasms of unadulterated ecstasy. She bucked in her bindings but his finger remained pressed against her, continuing her orgasm, not letting her down. Lauren knew she cried out and didn’t care how much noise she made. Her body ached for more even as it cried for him to make it stop. Over and over she crested and came until her tired muscles went limp in exhaustion. John pulled his fingers from between her legs and covered her with his body as she came down. Her muscles twitched for several seconds more as she gasped for air. When she could focus her gaze, she saw him leaning over her, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. “How’d I do?” She didn’t want to give him the compliment he fished for yet she couldn’t deny that had to have been the most powerful set of orgasms she’d ever had. And what had he done? Simply tied her up, filled her mind with thoughts of beauty and been a little rough with his kisses and hands. She’d had rough before and enjoyed it, but add in the silk ties and his incredible touch and sex became magnificent. “If you think you can handle it, there are a few other toys we can bring into play.”
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“After that? You think you’re going to get more out of me? I’ve already had two orgasms tonight and both were wonderful. If you get a third I’d be surprised.” Even as Lauren said the words she wanted him to prove her false. “That sounds like a challenge.” He rolled over the top of her and stood. His weight forced a woof out of her and she grinned at his dismount. “Take it anyway you want to.” Her heart slowed to normal, but she felt her stomach give a little flip as she thought he just might give her more. The bedroom door stood in the center of one wall. John pushed the door halfway shut and knelt in front of a curved-top trunk that sat in the corner. While he sorted through the contents, none of which she could see, Lauren had time to look around the room. The fact that she hadn’t earlier suddenly registered on her and she tried to sit up in surprise. The scarves brought her up short though. John looked over his shoulder. “Everything all right over there?” “Yeah, very all right.” He cocked an eyebrow at her and she explained. “I don’t think you’ve noticed but checking out my surroundings has become an ingrained habit.” “I’ve noticed.” She heard the dry tone and looked up at the ceiling, her own tone matching his. “Okay, so I’m not as good at hiding my idiosyncrasies as I’d hoped. Sue me.” Lauren took in the room in a long sweep. “Every place I go, I find all the exits, I look for places where people could hide or go to if in trouble. I look for bombs.” John didn’t move and Lauren continued, her joy at her discovery bubbling out of her. “But when we came here, upstairs, I didn’t do any of that. I did when we came in the house. The placement of the couch, the exit to the dining room and to the kitchen’s back door. I had it all down pat within the first minute of entering.” “And what changed when you came upstairs?” She actually giggled. “It’s wonderful. I was so taken with you and what you might do to me that I didn’t notice. I couldn’t tell you the layout of rooms up here if my life depended on it. Wait! That’s it!” She struggled to sit up and contented herself with rolling onto her side so she could see him. “My life depended on it. That’s the key right there. The IEDs, the snipers, the suicide bombers, they all taught me to be constantly aware of my surroundings because, literally, my life depended on it. That awareness grew to a habit I didn’t break when I got home. I do it all the time. I lead my life as if it could end at any moment and never relax my guard.” “But you did tonight.” “With you. Isn’t that wonderful?” John came to kneel beside the bed, taking Lauren’s face in his hands. He kissed her gently then said, “You feel safe here with me.” She nodded, her eyes growing more serious. “I do. It’s a feeling I’m not used to.” 72
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“Get used to it. I intend to keep you safe a lot more often.” Until he’d said the words, John hadn’t realized how deeply Lauren had affected him. But the truth of the words couldn’t be denied. He liked Lauren. No, liked was too soft a word. You liked baseball, you liked your car. What he felt for Lauren was far more than that. She’d become important to him. He kissed her again, enjoying the way she yielded to him. Because of the ties, he couldn’t quite hold her as close as he’d like, but that was okay. There’d be time enough for that later. “Stay put,” he told her, liking the way her face lit up when she smiled at him. Going back to the trunk, he lifted up the soft flogger he’d decided on and hefted it in his hand. Would she let him? Only one way to find out. Her eyes widened when he brought it into the light. Made of long deerskin thongs, the flogger’s many ends could provide a soft massage or a hard thwack. The artistry came in knowing when to deliver which kind of landing. Turning the skin pink required only a light blow delivered repeatedly or a series of hard blows delivered quickly. Which would bring her to orgasm again? John knew that finding out was the best part. “If you give your permission, I’d like to give you a massage.” “With that?” “A flogging can be very relaxing. If that’s the desired status, that is.” “Why not just give a massage then? With your hands?” “Good question. Let’s just say the flogger is more versatile and provokes more…sexual stimuli.” He saw her wavering and brought the flogger closer, trailing the ends over the skin of her side. Lauren giggled. “Okay, that tickles.” For answer, John gently pushed her over so she lay face up again. “Not the sensation I was going for. Try this one.” He gently flicked the ends so they brushed softly against her breasts then trailed them down along her belly. “Like that?” He knew his touch was too light to arouse her much, but apparently Lauren liked it just fine, judging by the little gasp she gave when he landed the ends again across her breasts. This time one of the ends landed across her nipple and the air that whooshed out of her hinted at her enjoyment. “Because this is new to you, it really is best to feel it on your ass first.” “All of a sudden I feel like I’ve never had sex before.” John saw the white cream at her pussy and knew what she meant. The first time he’d had a flogger used on him, he’d had one hell of an orgasm. Then he’d been taught how to use the nefarious little tool and he never looked back. He let the thongs fall lightly across her breasts and listened to her breath quicken. She didn’t need a full flogging to get an orgasm. The scarves and the mere suggestion of 73
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what he could do with this were enough to get her agitated and aroused. Starting a slow rhythm, he continued to slap the thongs against her breasts, understanding the small stings were plenty for this first time. Lauren’s eyes closed and John let the thongs fall a little harder. No marks yet showed on her skin, he’d kept the touch so light. But as her arousal grew, so did the force he used, each hit taking her a step closer to the peak. Small pink spots now showed on her breasts as they warmed beneath the soft leather. She arched her back, her head moving from side to side as the moans grew faster and deeper. He speeded up—the quickened tempo landing on the sides of her breasts. No pauses now, just unrelenting stings. Could she come without any touch to her pussy? Few women could. But those who did, he knew, experienced a far deeper orgasm. Lauren’s voice urged him on. “Please…so close…” Once more he increased the speed and strength, his blows to her breasts designed to push her over the edge. Above her head, her hands fisted the pillow and with a whimper, her body tensed, hovering…poised…waiting. He took her over with a hard blow to her nipples and listened to the cry of pleasured agony as her body convulsed. Immediately he lessened the strength of the descending flogger to soft caresses. He watched as she rode the waves of pleasure, her pussy spurting forth its marvelous juices. Oh, this one was precious in so many ways. He’d asked her out because he’d found her witty and fun. He’d brought her home because he’d found her wounded and he wanted to help. He’d brought her up here to help her forget for a while. But now he found a new emotion starting to well up inside him—one of lust and desire. He’d taken his shirt and pants off but kept his boxer briefs on since this part of the evening was more for her benefit. Now he dropped them quickly, giving Lauren her first look. Coming down from another incredible orgasm, Lauren opened her eyes to the light and blinked, having forgotten for a moment where she was. That flogging had been wonderful! She’d let him do that again anytime. Movement to her right caught her eye. She’d enjoyed looking at his chest and the controlled strength of his muscles and had just enough time to think, “What a gorgeous ass,” before he turned around and her attention was riveted by his cock. John was not a small man, in any part of his body. Manners said it wasn’t polite to stare but right now, manners could go to hell. John’s cock, thick as her wrist and hard as her head, stood proudly, swathed in the beautifully deep colors of his erection. Suddenly she realized her legs were spread open, very open. Instinctively she tried to move them. All she could do was bend her knees a little, which, of course, opened her pussy wider and more invitingly. She grinned. 74
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John knelt between her legs, one hand absently massaging his cock. Again without thinking, Lauren attempted to bring her hands down to touch him. Again the ties prevented her and a whimper of frustration escaped. “You certainly do seem to like being tied and ravished,” John commented as he saw her body reacting to him. “Ravish away. I’m liking this more than I could’ve imagined.” For answer, he leaned forward, putting a hand on either side of her shoulders. Lauren’s breath caught as she understood the power he wielded. The muscles of his shoulders tensed where he held himself above her, his face mere inches from her own. Her lips parted as her heart pounded. He teased her to readiness again simply by existing. “I will enter you slowly. I will torment you and make love to you like you deserve to be loved. You are beautiful, Lauren. I want you.” His words made her stomach flip. She could barely breathe and her voice was barely audible. “Yes, please. John…” His lips were on hers, tasting, exploring, possessing. Because of her bindings she had no way to show him how much she wanted except in their kiss. She yielded, letting his tongue explore and exploring on her own as well. Everything she wanted she put into that kiss, her desire for his cock, her thankfulness at his caring and tenderness, her passion and her need. He lowered himself and she raised her hips to help his entrance, wanting to join with him. He said he’d take her slowly and Lauren learned he was a man of his word. She felt his cock at her pussy, rubbing along her slit and making her moan. She wanted to grab his shoulders and urge him along, but the ties forced her to a passive role. She could only accept what he gave. Gently he pushed inside, going in only a little before pulling out. Lauren cried out her need as the tensions in her pussy gathered again. How could she even think of coming again? And yet his masterful command had her wanting to rut like a feral animal. Again he entered and Lauren’s eyes closed, giving herself up to the fires that coursed through her. “Open your eyes, Lauren. I want to see your soul.” She looked into his eyes and felt more than naked. The blueness of his eyes had darkened with his desire. He would consume her, she realized, just as she understood she would gladly let him. His cock pumped in and out, each time going deeper. Her whimpers kept time with the increasing tempo of his thrusts. “You are mine, Lauren.” His voice had gone husky and Lauren saw his control slipping. Hers had flown away hours ago. But then he thrust hard and deep and she rode with him, her eyes closing despite her attempts to keep them open as she climaxed hard. His cock slammed against the wall of her womb and she cried out. Above her, he groaned as he came and Lauren went over the edge with him. Their bodies rocked together in their timeless dance. 75
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And when he slowed, Lauren opened her eyes, a smile spreading across her face to see him so relaxed. He heaved a huge sigh, and brought his eyes to focus. His smile, contented and tired, made her feel even more satisfied. She’d given him pleasure despite the bindings. Or maybe because of them. Lauren didn’t know and didn’t care. John lowered himself to lay his head beside hers and she took the opportunity to clench her pussy muscles around his softened cock. He shuddered and kissed her neck. She waited a moment and did it again. His breath caught and she grinned. “Damn, what you do to me.” He kissed her again, a gentle kiss filled with tenderness. His arms wrapped around her as his cock slipped free and Lauren found herself regretting their uncoupling. She could stay joined with this man for a very long time.
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Chapter Nine Noon the next day found Lauren sitting at a table in a chain restaurant with an old friend, needing to confide in someone. Beth was her best friend, but would she understand? Beth had always been forthcoming about her sexual proclivities, and they weren’t what Lauren had last night. So she’d called up the other third of their triumvirate, Sarah Townshend. In high school, she, Beth and Sarah had been alternately called the Three Stooges and the three witches from Macbeth. All three had long brown hair then that they’d play with and set into the same style, pretending they were triplets. They’d been inseparable, until time and geography sent them in different directions. But Lauren was back, and so was Sarah. Funny how they all had returned to their roots after so many years. And now, after last night, Lauren had to talk—and Sarah seemed the only one she could trust to give her the straight answers she needed with no teasing. “I have something to ask you…but it’s kinda on the rude side.” Lauren’s voice trailed off. Sarah shook her head as she speared a forkful of lettuce from her salad. “We’ve been friends far too long for you to worry about offending me.” “Well, we haven’t seen each other in a long time and I was afraid that—” “Fear not. There’s nothing you can ask me that I would consider rude.” Lauren tried to explain anyway. “It’s just that it’s been so long since we’ve really talked. We graduated and hung out that whole summer. Then you married Tom and the two of you moved around so much I never saw much of you. September eleven happened and I joined the Army as a nurse and lived outside Washington while working for Walter Reed. Then I did a stint overseas.” “Being together over the years isn’t what makes a friendship, Lauren. Friendship is being able to pick up again as if no time has passed.” Lauren smiled, remembering how much she loved her best friends. “I’m so glad you met Phillip. After Tom died, the few times we did meet up, you seemed so…broken. But now…” She toasted her friend with her glass. “But now?” “You’re happy again. Phillip’s been really good for you.” Lauren put her glass down, serious once more. “In fact, it’s him I want to talk to you about.” She saw her friend tense and Lauren quailed. Sarah was the only one who might understand, who might be able to explain what happened last night. She saw Sarah’s chin come up, almost defying her to ask the question. “Go ahead and ask. You’re the only one who hasn’t.” 77
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“What?” Lauren sat back, suddenly confused. “About the trial and about our private sex lives.” Lauren shook her head. “No…that’s not it. Well, it is, but— I want to talk to you because of your,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “private sex life.” Now it was Sarah’s turn to look puzzled. “Maybe you’d better just ask your question.” “You know I had a date with John?” Sarah nodded and leaned forward to hear her better. “I need to know…that is, we…I mean, he… Oh for crying out loud. Why is this so hard?” Sarah smiled encouragingly. “I’ll tell you why it’s hard after you tell me what it is.” Lauren looked left and right to be sure no one was near. The other diners were engaged in their own conversations and paid them no attention. Satisfied, she leaned forward again and blurted it out. “John tied me up last night and made love to me. And I enjoyed it!” Sarah chuckled and Lauren hushed her. “I’m serious. This is wrong on so many levels.” “Whose levels? Society’s? The church’s? The government’s? None of them belong in the bedroom with you and John. Not even me, although I’m going to stay there for a little while, since you invited me in.” “Yes, I did. Beth sent me the clippings of what happened between you and Phillip or I wouldn’t have had the courage to even bring it up. But I thought if anyone could explain it to me…” Sarah’s smile could’ve lit up the restaurant. “If some good has come out of that terrible time, then it was worth it. Let me tell you you’re not crazy, you’re not weird or terrible or any other awful thing you’ve been calling yourself. What you are, is normal.” “Really?” Lauren hated the vulnerability in her voice but her responses to John’s lovemaking threw her completely. Sarah’s reassurance went a long way toward righting her world once again. Especially when Sarah pointed to the leather thong she wore tied around her neck. “This is my collar. Phillip ties it on me every morning as a sign of his dominance over me and I wear it as a symbol of my obedience to him. He is my Master and I am his slave. Believe me. Being tied down and made love to is so normal it’s almost mundane.” “Mundane? Not a word I would use to describe last night.” Sarah grinned again. “Sounds like a good beginning.” Lauren pushed her unfinished salad away as the waitress brought over their entrees. Suddenly she wondered why she had ordered the grilled salmon when her thoughts had her stomach roiling.
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“It’s a good beginning only if I can get over this feeling of guilt,” she told Sarah after the waitress had left. “It took me awhile too.” Sarah attacked her fettuccini alfredo with gusto, explaining her feelings to Lauren as she swirled the pasta onto her fork. “Society has conditioned you to think of some activities as being kinky. And that kink is wrong. It isn’t.” Lauren watched Sarah eat, remembering how they used to tease her because she could eat anything and not gain a pound. Apparently Sarah still could eat anything she wanted. Not so for Lauren. The diet and exercise required in order to stay fit and trim for active duty remained a part of her daily regimen. She picked up her fork and played with the salmon as she considered Sarah’s opinion. “So you’re saying that kink is okay?” “I’m saying that what goes on between a man and a woman in the bedroom is no one’s business.” A sudden thought came to Sarah. “Tell me again what John’s last name is?” “McAllen. John McAllen.” Sarah chuckled. “I just put it together. Of course!” Lauren frowned at her friend. “Put what together? Sarah, this is serious.” Sarah shook her head. “Of course it’s serious.” She waggled her eyebrows. “More serious than you think.” She chuckled again. “Okay, spill it. What do you know that I don’t?” Sarah smiled. “Nope. I think this might be one of those things you should learn from John.” “Sarah…” Lauren flashed her a warning look. Sarah put her fork down as well and took Lauren’s hand. “Look, Lauren. A little rope in the bedroom is no big deal. Obviously you felt something for him or you wouldn’t have been there in the first place.” “I did. I do. He…” She stopped and sat back, her breath coming out in a huge sigh. “I had a flashback on our first date. Dropped to the ground and everything.” “What did John do?” “Held me.” Lauren felt the tears burning in her eyes and fought them. When she was sure of her voice again, she continued. “He was understanding and loving…and patient, and kind. Everything I needed him to be.” She squeezed Sarah’s hand. “And then he was commanding and assured and then last night…he made love to me like…like I’ve never been made love to before.” “And you fell in love with him between one breath and the next.” Lauren nodded and a tear escaped to slide silently down her cheek. Sarah squeezed her hand in return. “Oh honey. That’s a beautiful thing. You’re going to be just fine.”
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“Of course she is. Did I miss dessert?” Lauren wiped her eyes as Beth pulled out a chair and sat beside them. She didn’t miss the look that passed between Sarah and Beth, however. But ever the one to keep others’ secrets, Sarah didn’t say a word of what Lauren had just told her. Instead she dropped Lauren’s hand and turned brightly to the third member of their triad. “Of course not. We’ve just finished.” Sarah looked at Lauren’s barely touched salmon. “Well, one of us is, anyway.” “I’m eating, I’m eating.” Lauren assumed a false gaiety and put a forkful of fish into her mouth as proof. “Yeah, I’m buying that.” Beth’s droll tone implied the opposite. Lauren sighed. She couldn’t keep anything from either of these two. They knew her that well. With her fork, she gestured from Sarah to Beth. “Tell her,” she mumbled after a quick swallow. Putting her head down so she wouldn’t have to see the look of shock on Beth’s face, she shoveled in another mouthful so she wouldn’t have to answer any questions. Sarah turned to Beth, a wry smile on her face. “In short, John tied Lauren up last night and made love to her. And she liked it.” “Well, it’s about time!” Lauren looked up, confused. “What’s about time?” She managed around the mouthful of fish. Beth gestured to herself and Sarah. “We’ve known for quite a while you were submissive, just like Sarah. It was only a matter of time before you figured it out.” “I don’t get it. How did you know? I’m an officer in the US Army for crying out loud. I give orders.” She paused. “Correction. I gave orders. I’m not an officer anymore.” “Yes you are.” Beth’s tone dismissed Lauren’s self-pity. “You finished your last stint and simply didn’t re-up. But you don’t lose your rank. Like it or not, ‘Major’ is still a part of who you are.” “You’re proving my point, Beth-a-rooni.” Sarah laughed. “Now there’s the Lauren we all know and love. You get her, Lauren-bauren!” “Sorry, Sarah-silly, she’s whupped.” Beth’s grin turned sly. “But then, you finally discovered you like a good whipping, didn’t you?” Lauren’s cheeks burned and she glanced at the nearby tables. No one returned her glance or gave any indication that Beth’s rhetorical question had been overheard. Still she made a motion to silence her friend. Beth only chuckled and signaled the waitress. “I’d like the Decadent Chocolate Fudge Brownie. And three forks.” Lauren rolled her eyes but Sarah nodded. “A celebration. Definitely. Lauren’s coming into her own and that definitely calls for chocolate. Lots of chocolate,” she added, an evil glint in her eyes. 80
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“So,” Lauren fixed her gaze on Beth, “are you also telling me you’re submissive? From what you told me of you and Paul, I didn’t think—” “Heavens, no!” Beth reeled back in mock horror. Then she gave an equally evil grin and waggled her eyebrows as she dropped the other shoe. “Paul’s the submissive in our marriage.” Lauren sat back, as stunned as Beth expected her to be after dropping that particular bombshell. It made sense when she thought it through. Beth always took charge of the three of them whenever they planned any activity. She and Sarah went along for the ride, adding their own bits as they went. But Beth was the ringleader and always had been. But Paul a submissive? That was harder to understand. She knew Beth took the lead, but…a submissive? How could any man keep his self-respect and submit to a woman? Didn’t that make him hen-pecked? “Okay. For some reason I feel like I’m back in first grade. Start at the beginning and take me through this one small step at a time.” But both women shook their heads in unison. “Nope,” Beth said at the same time Sarah told her, “No way.” The two laughed and Beth motioned to Sarah to go first. “Everyone comes to understand their sexuality on their own path and with their own teacher. Phillip taught me, John will teach you.” Beth nodded her agreement and dropped the teasing tone from her voice. “I knew I loved Paul, but something just wasn’t quite right between us. We both knew it and neither of us could figure it out. Then Sarah and Phillip got married and I met Lady Aleshia at the wedding.” She smiled and Lauren thought she’d never seen her so happy. Beth continued. “Paul met Aleshia’s slave, Anton, and the two of them hit it off right away. We learned from them to identify what was missing. Once we started on our journey together, we tied the knot and, well, here we are!” Briefly Lauren wondered how they managed to make love with the baby around then decided that would be too much information to process. Her two best friends in the world not only didn’t commiserate in her agony, they welcomed and celebrated it. She pushed her lunch out of the way entirely as the waitress delivered a monstrous piece of chocolate brownie with vanilla ice cream and layered with hot fudge sauce on top. Three cherries sat on top of a mound of whipped cream and Lauren laughed for the first time all day. “Okay. I give in. Take away this grilled and good-for-me salmon and give me my fork!” “Ah, ah, ah, cherries first,” Beth commanded, lifting one of the red fruits in a toast. Sarah followed suit and Lauren picked up the remaining cherry. “To Lauren, who has just lost her BDSM cherry!” “To Lauren!”
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Blushing and ducking her head, Lauren added, “To me!” They clinked the fruits together then popped them into their mouths. Both Lauren and Beth pulled the stem off and dropped it onto the plate, but Sarah’s mouth worked a moment, then she opened it to show a perfectly formed knot in the stem. “Show-off.” Lauren loved these women—their foibles, their helpful empathy, their friendship. Lifting her forkful of chocolate brownie, she toasted them. “To friends.” “To friends!”
***** John strolled through the lot of a used-car dealer, listening to Will find fault with every truck they examined. “I’ll know it when I see it,” he kept saying, stubbornly refusing several perfectly good trucks. “There must be a really good reason you don’t want to give up that truck.” John shook his head as they headed back to the rust bucket. “He’s never told you the story?” John turned at the voice behind him and grinned. “Phillip, what are you doing here? Don’t tell me you’re looking for a new winter rat?” Phillip drove a beautiful sports car in the summer and stored it for the winter so the salt on the roads wouldn’t destroy the paint—or the frame. Phillip shook his head as he took John’s proffered hand. “Nope. Was driving by and couldn’t believe I saw that deathtrap sitting there. Gave me hope Will had come to his senses and was doing some serious shopping.” “Yeah, well, John-boy here keeps pestering.” “You have a hole in the floor.” “Details, details.” Will waved his hand dismissively. “It still runs good.” With an air of long-suffering, Will climbed into his truck. “I’ll look at one more dealership and if I don’t find anything there I like, you have to agree to stop nagging me to get a new truck.” John leaned on the open window of the passenger door. “Could be a deal if I knew the story behind why this one is so special to you.” Phillip came up to lean with him. “If you don’t tell him, I will.” Surrendering, Will blurted it out. “I like to take Jill for a ride in the bed of this truck, all right?” John turned to glance back at the truck bed. The metal showed through the paint where scratches and dents gave evidence of some hard hauling. A large black, plastic toolbox stretched the width just under the window to the cab and John noted the rings
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evenly placed along the side rails used to tie down a tarp to keep the bed dry. Nothing unusual for a truck bed. He shrugged, clearly not getting Will’s meaning. “Naked,” Will muttered. Narrowing his eyes, John leaned over and flicked up the catch on the toolbox. The inside had been divided into two compartments. One side held the normal tools one might expect from a handyman—a circular saw, a sander, a drill case and a smaller toolbox that John was sure would be filled with hammers, screwdrivers, wrenches and other small hand tools. But the side farthest from him and closest to the driver held more interesting items. Several coils of strong, scratchy rope, a roll of duct tape, a bag of cable ties and one leather hood—the kind that laced up the back. The kind with a built-in gag and no eyeholes. Suppressing a grin, John let the top slam shut. “Seems to me a man of your…interests…might want a more dependable truck,” John told his friend, his voice dry and droll. “Seems to me a man’s wife might want a truck more dependable. Wouldn’t want to see the bed fall off the truck while she was back there.” Phillip’s tone matched John’s as they drove their point home. Will leaned back and whined, “But we’ve had such good times there.” The two men laughed and Phillip gave John’s arm a playful hit. “I’ll meet you at Bonner’s. Forget used. He needs something brand-new and sturdy.” “Deal.” “Then lunch on me if he buys a new truck.” John grinned at Phillip. “Bribery?” Phillip shrugged. “Something’s gotta work.” With Will shaking his head in defeat, John climbed in beside his friend as Phillip went back to his sports car. “Think of it this way, buddy. Jill will want to try out the new truck and put it through its paces as soon as possible.” At that thought, Will cheered up. “She would, at that. We could…” His eyes twinkled with mischief. As Will plotted out scenes with a new truck and his wife, John thought of Lauren. Would she ever consent to such a public display? He doubted it. But then again, he doubted he’d have the balls to drive around with a naked, hooded woman tied in the back of his truck either. Too many things could go wrong and while living on the edge obviously appealed to some—he glanced at Will’s beaming face—he preferred his sex to be just a little less dangerous. No, he would tie Lauren again, if he hadn’t frightened her off, and judging by last night’s reaction, he felt pretty sure he hadn’t. But for the foreseeable future they’d keep their kink in the bedroom or at least inside the house.
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Chapter Ten Lauren positively buzzed with excitement. Not only had Beth and Sarah convinced her that bondage was “normal” they had talked her into stopping at a lingerie shop to purchase a little something on the kinky side. She glanced at the plain white bag as she drove home, her cheeks turning pink at what she hoped would be John’s reaction. Her machine’s light blinked “1” when she got home so she hit the button as she went through her mail, sending most of it right into the small recycling box she kept under the table beside the door. John’s sexy voice came through the speaker and Lauren paused, a half smile on her face as she listened to his recording. “Lauren, I wanted you to know I enjoyed last night. I hope you did too. If you’re willing, I thought perhaps we could get together tomorrow afternoon and I could show you a few more of my,” there was a pause and Lauren felt a thrill all the way to her pussy, “toys,” he finished and the machine clicked off. “Oh I bet you have some nice toys,” she purred. “And when you see what I bought today…” But why had he called her home number? Why not her cell phone? She’d given him both numbers just in case. Pulling the small phone from her jeans pocket, she shook her head. “Someday they’re going to invent one of you little guys that doesn’t need its batteries recharged all the time.” With a sigh she plugged the phone into its charger and picked up her land line to return his call. Ten minutes later she had a date for the following afternoon with Big John at his house. Hanging up the phone, she smiled as she considered the possibilities. Kinky sex with John would never be dull, that was for certain. He’d told her to look up on the Web and see what she could find about TPE—Total Power Exchange. Something told her she wouldn’t find sites on a new form of electrical energy. Intrigued, she headed for her computer. By the time she clicked it off, the room had grown dark and she’d missed dinner entirely. Oh yes. Sex with John would never be dull.
***** John surveyed his bedroom the next morning, shaking his head and sighing. Lauren would be here in a few hours and he wanted everything set before she came. A good scene built, each event moving the tension forward increments at a time until achieving the climax. If he built it right, there would be chapters within the scene where small climaxes kept her coming back for more.
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Of course, he’d started the scene with the phone call. The message teased, hooked her in. With their conversation later he’d given her more of a hint, like reading the first few pages of a book to see if you wanted to continue. “Last night I bound you with scarves,” he’d told her. “Tomorrow I will take movement from you entirely.” He’d heard her sudden intake of breath over the phone and knew he’d gotten her. The exposition was done. Now to introduce the conflict. Opening the chest behind the door, he surveyed its contents. He had bondage gear of all types. Under Will and Phillip’s tutelage, he’d acquired skills that he’d honed through several liaisons when home on leave. None of those relationships had lasted longer than the leave, however. John didn’t mind. Going off to war was hard enough without leaving someone behind. Lauren, however, was not a woman to be so easily set aside. John paused in the act of picking up a particularly heavy flogger as he considered that thought. Lauren wouldn’t be a quick and simple relationship with both of them going in their own directions after the buzz of newness wore off. He’d only known her a week so saying he’d fallen in love might be a bit premature, but he suddenly realized that he was not ruling it out. He picked up the flogger and ran the thongs through his opposite hand. “How far do I want to push her? How far do I want to push me?” He spoke to the flogger, deep in thought. After a moment, he swished the thongs through the air, listening to the deep woof as the air protested his assault on it. “She knows a flogging can massage and arouse. First lesson learned.” Turning, he swung the flogger downward at the footboard of the bed. The leather ends cracked in the silence. Standing straight once more, John held the flogger to his face, inhaling the musky leather scent. “Lesson two—submission has rewards.”
***** She’d dressed carefully that noon. Freshly showered, lotioned and shaved, the red lace bra and matching thong went on first. He damn well better appreciate these. For such a small amount of material they had sure cost enough. But she liked the way the bra gave her real cleavage and, when she slid another long, peasant-type skirt over her hips, she liked the way the material caressed her bare ass. A simple short-sleeve blouse finished it off. Checking herself in the mirror, Lauren grinned and unbuttoned the top button, flaring out the collar to show a little of that cleavage she’d paid so much for. With a waggle of eyebrows at the sight, she headed out the door. Lauren pulled into his driveway, seeing the house in the daylight for the first time. The houses to either side were typical one-family homes built just after World War II. Small porches, lots of windows, big gables. By contrast, John’s small bungalow seemed tiny. How could such a large man live in such a tiny space?
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She realized she was dawdling. Putting off the moment where she walked along the flagstone path and rang the doorbell. He hadn’t peeked out to see who had pulled into his driveway. At least, she didn’t think he had. She could still drive away. “Stop being foolish. He’s not going to hurt you.” Scolding herself, she turned off the engine and quickly opened the door before she chickened out. Trust took time to build, she’d said on their first date—or had it been him who said it? Didn’t matter. Each step she took along the path meant a step of trust in John’s good nature and dependability. Her hand reached for the bell even as the door opened. John stood there, looking totally at ease and not the least bit nervous while her stomach did a little flip. It wasn’t fair. He wore black pants and a crisp white shirt this afternoon, the sleeves rolled up and the top buttons undone. With that wonderful goatee encircling lips she knew would taunt her, he looked every inch the modern romantic pirate. “Welcome to my lair,” he teased and bowed her inside as Lauren had a momentary vision of herself bound and naked over a cannon. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered. Ignoring them, she stepped over the threshold with a coquettish smile and a flirt. “You look very dashing today.” “It’s on purpose, you know.” She gave him a quizzical look. “Is everything you do on purpose?” He shrugged and led her along the corridor into the kitchen. “Pretty much.” “Don’t you ever do things without thinking them through?” John chuckled. “Sometimes.” A café-style, rectangular wooden table served as his kitchen table, one end butted against the wall with two tall chairs on either side of the long sides. John pulled a chair out for her on the near side toward the wall. “Just not today.” Confused, Lauren sat. She knew exactly why he’d invited her over today. Hell, she hadn’t been able to think of anything else since talking with him so briefly yesterday. How could he, with so few words, get so many wonderful fantasies swirling through her imagination? Would he tie her with rope this time? Chains? Leather? Between her thoughts and the internet surfing she’d done, she was primed for anything. “Coffee?” he offered. “No thanks, I’m good.” “I have soda, if you’d prefer something cold.” Lauren shook her head, suddenly unsure of herself. Maybe he hadn’t invited her over here for incredible sex. When he pulled out the chair beside her and sat to face her, though, her stomach gave another of those annoyingly arousing flips to have him so near. “Did you read up on TPE?”
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She gave him a crooked grin. “I did. Total Power Exchange. One person voluntarily gives up all decision-making power to the other. In exchange, that person gets time without responsibilities. The person in power gets the thrill of being in control of someone.” “In a nutshell, that pretty well sums it up.” “I did my homework.” She heard the pride in her own voice and wondered if giving up power meant also giving up pride. “You’ve gotten to know a lot about me over the past few weeks—” “Week,” Lauren interrupted. “I know it seems longer, but we only met a week ago last Saturday. Today’s Monday. It won’t officially be ‘weeks’ until this Saturday.” John sat back. “Am I moving too fast for you?” Lauren shook her head quickly. “No, I didn’t mean that. I—” She stopped, not entirely sure what she meant. John’s eyes narrowed. A slow smile spread across his face and the dimple appeared in his left cheek. It disarmed her. “You’re nervous.” At that, she laughed outright. A quick bleat of a laugh. “Well, wouldn’t you be? If you were the one giving up power?” She frowned. “That is what this is about, right? I mean, you aren’t thinking I’m the one who wants the power and you’re going to be the…” she hesitated before saying the word. Saying it out loud in front of him made it real. Really real. She said it anyway. “Submissive.” His chuckle reassured her. “No, rest assured. I’m the Dominant.” “Good.” She leaned back in her chair, suddenly understanding why he hadn’t taken her right up to the bedroom. There were roles to be hashed out, understood. Tacit understanding wasn’t enough when physical freedom sat on the line. “So what’s next?” He shrugged. “That’s up to you.” “I thought you were the Dominant. Aren’t you going to tell me what to do?” “Not until you give me permission.” That confused her. He took her hand. It was the first time he’d touched her since she’d entered and Lauren felt the thrill right down to her toes. Her gaze fell to his hand. He reached forward and tilted her chin up and she looked into his eyes. His gaze told her of the seriousness with which he took this. He gave her honesty. He would demand honesty from her. No defenses, no walls to hide behind, no cute turns of phrase or deflections. He would bare his soul to her. Could she do the same? Lauren dropped her eyes, even as his fingers remained under her chin. He cocked his head, waiting to see if she had the courage. She’d walked in through his door even after doing her homework. That was a promising sign. But if she couldn’t say the
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words, if she couldn’t look him in the eye and give her permission, he couldn’t take her further. The corner of her mouth twitched and turned upward. She let out the breath she’d been holding and brought her gaze back to his. She said the words with conviction, “Yes, John. I give you permission. Whatever we do next will be at your discretion.” His grin had nothing to do with his own pleasure and everything to do with the huge step she’d just taken. Well, perhaps it had a little to do with his pleasure. She trusted him and that all by itself was a powerful aphrodisiac. Squeezing her hand, he simply stood and pulled her to her feet. This huge act of courage should not go unrewarded. He moved his hands so his fingers encircled each of her wrists. “Bindings take many forms.” He kept his voice pitched low and neutral as he explained. “Sometimes I’ll want you spread, like this.” Keeping his fingers wrapped around her wrists, he moved her arms out parallel to the floor. “I might want you hanging.” He pulled her arms up over her head and heard her intake of breath. Looking down at her, he brought her arms down and around to the small of her back. “Or I might want your hands out of the way entirely.” She leaned forward, a little off balance at his movement of her arms. Quickly taking advantage of the fact, he transferred both her wrists to his left hand, holding her firmly as his right came up to caress her cheek. “With them out of the way,” he told her softly, “you can’t prevent me from taking a kiss.” Her face turned up to meet him as she went on tiptoe. He kept his smile inside and brushed his lips against hers, not taking possession yet. Teasing, he waited, his eyes holding hers. And still she remained on tiptoe, although now because he’d pulled her close, forcing her to remain there. With his free hand he brushed the hair from her face, cupped her neck then fisted his hand in her wonderful tresses. A gasp followed by a small noise from the back of her throat meant he followed the right track. Her lips really were wonderful for kissing. Such a delicate shade of pink. He loved that she wore little to no makeup. The lack signaled she liked herself. That she didn’t need more to make her feel complete. Those lips beckoned to him now, slightly parted. She leaned against him for balance, her face upturned in trust. When he kissed her in earnest Lauren thought she might come right there in his kitchen. The first brush tantalized, the second touch descended quickly into dominance. She knew what he wanted. What she wanted. Hadn’t she devoured those web sites last night? Each one she turned to showed her something new, something she’d thought of only in the darkest nights, something she realized now she wanted very much. Without the slightest hesitation, she bent her head back, opening to him as his lips sought hers. His tongue pressed and she let him explore. Without even realizing she did so, she leaned into him, willing her entire being to him. 88
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Again and again his lips slanted over hers, tasting her, taking her. She wanted to reach up and take him in her arms, but he had her arms caught fast. Her knee, a woman’s best weapon against unwanted advances, could do damage. Part of her knew she could twist away if she really wanted to. But she didn’t want to. He had asked for her submission, freely given. Well, she was giving it, enjoying every moment of his touch on her. And then he was gone. He pulled away, letting her hands go and setting her on her feet. The sudden lack of closeness disoriented her and she blinked several times trying to catch her breath and looked up to see him grinning. “You are amazing, do you know that?” he told her. “I am? I was just thinking the same thing about you and that kiss. Hot damn, but that was good.” “So you’re okay with all this? You’ll exchange power with me for the afternoon?” “Oh yeah. If it leads to more kisses like that one, I’m a go for launch.” He laughed and took her hand. “Then let’s get you to the launch pad.” Without another word, he led her back through the short hall to the stairs. In less than a minute they’d reached the doorway of his bedroom, which Lauren could see had been set up before she got there. For one thing, the bed had been stripped of all coverings but for a single fitted sheet over the mattress. Glancing around, she saw the comforter neatly folded in the corner with the pillows on top. This afternoon’s events were not going to be sex, a cuddle and a nap. She shivered in spite of her desires. Several long, silver rods sat propped against the wall by his dresser, the top of which had also been cleared. Where several days ago lay the detritus of a normal life—a comb, a brush, deodorant, cologne, now lay a ping-pong paddle, a riding crop, a small rubber flogger and several vibrators in neat rows. Just a few of the toys he wanted to show her? “Coming?” Lauren started, not having realized she’d paused in the doorway. Chuckling, she stepped into the room with a flip remark. “Not yet.” He laughed with her and Lauren liked that zingers weren’t against the rules. This ground held no familiarity. She’d given him power, but what, exactly, did that mean? Suddenly the protocols seemed overwhelming. “John, I…” She ordered her thoughts and tried again. “Sorry. I’m just not sure what I’m supposed to do all of a sudden. Giving myself to you to ‘play’ with, as the site I looked at last night called it, is a wonderful thought in the abstract. But in the reality, am I just supposed to blindly follow along? Passive to the extreme?” John pulled her close and took her in his arms. “That’s where the negotiation comes in. We haven’t really done any of that because you’re too new at this. You don’t know the questions to ask. That’s okay.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “You’ll figure out what 89
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you want. I suspect,” he unbuttoned the top button of her blouse, “that we’ll develop protocols together.” “You don’t want me to call you ‘Sir’, do you?” His fingers continued to unbutton her blouse. “We’re both military. For us, that title has overtones it doesn’t have for others.” She smiled, resisting the urge to wrap her arms around his neck. “And of course, there’s the little matter that I outrank you.” The back of his finger brushed over her collarbone. “Which would make it only more interesting.” She was losing track of the conversation. Her blouse now hung open, his fingers coming lower to explore the lacy outlines of her new bra. “Very interesting,” she breathed. “As is this.” John’s finger slid under the lace to caress the top of her breast. The lace she’d bought to seduce him. Only he turned the tables. He seduced her. Taking in a deep breath that swelled her breasts, she let it out slowly, the muscles of her shoulders relaxing as she did so. “Better?” he asked. His finger had reached her nipple. All she could do was nod. With a sudden movement, he brushed her blouse off her shoulders and turned her around so she leaned against him. Once again he captured her hands behind her. With her head against the hard muscles of his chest, her neck lay open and bare. When the back of his free hand brushed against her cheek and continued along her neck, Lauren suddenly understood just how vulnerable she was. John knew he didn’t need to actually apply pressure to Lauren’s neck to get the effect he wanted. All he had to do was rest his hand there, his fingers encircling that wonderful whiteness. She trembled but didn’t make any move to get away. Taking this as a good sign, he continued, wanting to explore that lacy bra. Was it new? He hoped so. That would mean she’d bought it just for him and that thought gave him a very warm feeling that had nothing to do with sex. His fingers traced the outline of the bra. One of those surreptitiously padded jobs that forced the breasts together and up so a wonderful cleavage formed between them. John had noticed that cleavage as soon as he’d opened the door. She’d left one extra button of her blouse undone just to show it off. Another point in her favor. Leaving the warmth of her breasts, he explored deeper. Her skirt’s elastic waistband posed no impediment to his explorations. Tempted as he was to head straight to her pussy, they had the entire afternoon. A quick glance at the clock on the highboy showed it was 2:25. Plenty of time. His hand, instead, cupped her nearly naked ass. John had given her no instructions as to what to wear, but clearly Lauren knew what she wanted. Only a small thong 90
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covered her mound and pussy, he could feel the thin strap over her hip. She moved against him, angling to give him better access, and another one of those marvelous little whimpers escaped her throat. “You like this,” he murmured into her ear, more a statement of fact than an attempt to persuade. “Yes.” With her head still tilted back, even though his hand had long left her neck, her voice came out wispy and a little strained. Could that be because she’d already moved into that mysterious zone known as “sub space”? He still held her wrists behind her. Letting them go, he brought his hand up to rest on her shoulder. A warm breeze wafted in through the room’s open window and she lifted her head to it, inhaling even as she rubbed her arms. From outside came the sound of a lawnmower a few doors down. John smiled. He loved the juxtaposition of normalcy with what conspired in his bedroom. If they only knew of the little piece of heaven he had carved for the two of them today. Lauren definitely liked this. She hadn’t lied when John asked her. Having nothing to do except exist held some tantalizing advantages. If she thought about it, existing was all she’d been doing for the past several months, making no decisions, having no direction. With a smile, she shoved those thoughts aside. Today existed only for John and her. She hadn’t made any decisions about those outside matters so far, they could wait another day. A straight-back chair had been added to the room. John left her, pulled it to the center of the room and straddled it, his arms over the back. With a challenge in his eyes he gave her a one-word command. “Strip.” Lauren laughed. “Really?” “Really.” She looked again and realized he wasn’t playing. Feeling more than a little selfconscious, she debated what item to take off first. He’d already discovered she wore nothing but a thong under the skirt, so she hooked her thumbs into the elastic and slid it down over her hips, letting it puddle at her feet. She slipped her sandals off next. He watched, dispassionate. That unnerved her a little more. She had a good body. Being in the ER had meant building muscles. Being in the Army had meant keeping in shape. Maybe she didn’t do it right? Strippers got men excited all the time. Should she put a little oomph into it? Deciding on the side of the tease, she slowly slid one strap of her bra down her arm, then the other. Reaching behind her, she undid the clasp then brought the red lace down her arms and off her body. Unsure where to put it, she dropped it on top of the skirt at her feet. Hooking her thumbs in the band, she slid the thong down to her ankles, then off each foot. Again she dropped it to the floor.
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“Fold the clothes and put them on the empty spot on the dresser behind you.” Frowning a little, she did as he told her. Taking orders didn’t feel unnatural to her. As an officer she gave as many as she took though. These commands, however, had a different tone entirely. Setting the folded garments on the dresser, she took a good look at the implements he had laid out there. Despite her misgivings, her pussy moistened at the sight of all that leather and rubber. Turning, she tried to figure out how to stand. This was a new one for her—standing naked before a man who did nothing but look you over as if he were deciding which might be the most vulnerable point to attack first. She put her chin out, defiant. Her hands went on her hips and she turned completely around before him. “Like what you see? Think you might buy it?” “I think it talks too much.” Her jaw dropped. Talked too much? It? Just what did he think…? Before she could answer he stood and approached her. “I think it needs to learn the value of silence.” He held up a small ball gag and waited. Clearly this would be her call. She nodded, still struggling over the pronoun “it”. Yes, she’d been the first to use the term, but she’d meant her body. He meant her being. Suddenly being deprived of personhood sent her further into uncertainty. John smiled as he stepped behind her to seat and buckle the rubber gag under her ponytail. Introducing conflict. He’d thought telling her to strip might be enough. Calling her “it”, however, proved much more effective. Sliding the strap in, he finished the exposition of the scene with one last command. “Try to push it out.” When she couldn’t, he gathered her in tightly, her back to his chest, her arms pinned at her sides. “Remember you have given yourself to me. You exist as a separate entity no longer. You are simply an object for me to use as I see fit. Nothing more.” Behind the gag, another whimper. Mind-fucks held incredible power to arouse and over the years John had learned to employ them to his advantage. Keeping her held tightly, he pushed her toward the bed. Had she seen the cuffs laid at the foot? Turning her to face him, he didn’t give her time to react, pushing her so she fell backward onto the soft mattress. Before she’d finished her bounce he had one ankle in his hand, the cuff already slapping around it. He fit the D-ring through the slit so that the leather encased her ankle and picked up the small lock that would keep it in place. By that time she’d nearly recovered, getting her elbows under her to raise her body. John locked the cuff and dropped her foot. “Give me your other foot.”
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He didn’t give her a choice, and yet he did. By giving the command he gave her the option to refuse. The reality of the scene differed from the illusion. He gave the orders, but she was in command. Slowly she lifted her leg. John quickly affixed the second cuff, again locking it into place. Then, before she understood what he was about, he grabbed one of the silver poles resting against the wall and, using a quick-release catch, hooked it to the second cuff. To reach the first one, however, he had to spread her legs farther apart. Not giving her a choice this time, he simply pushed them and fastened the other quick-release. Now her legs couldn’t come together no matter how hard she tried. Her eyes widened in astonishment. John gave her a moment to try figuring out what kinds of movement she did have. The one-inch catches that fastened her cuffs to the spreader bar gave her a little room to maneuver, limited though it might be. Satisfied with the range, he held out his hand and helped her to stand. “Over to the chair,” he instructed. Clearly she wanted to say something to him. Her look implied enough that he figured she’d scold him for not putting them on while she stood next to the chair so she wouldn’t have to duck-waddle her way over, leaning on him for support. Of course that was exactly the lesson she needed to learn from this small exercise. She needed to learn dependence, specifically, dependence on him. Trust. Not easy for anyone to learn after a lifetime of messages training the mind to think for itself. Yet, in power-exchanging, she gave that up. The look alone gave evidence she didn’t find this an easy task. Once he had her positioned behind the chair, he grabbed a poly-fill pillow from the pile at the side of the room and placed it over the back of the chair, one hand on her back to guide her down and over it. “Hands on the seat for now,” he told her, making sure the pillow didn’t slide forward too much. Her feet, firmly planted on the floor behind the chair, didn’t rise and he nodded. Good. He’d only eyeballed this particular chair as being the right height for her. Sliding a hand between the pillow and her waist, he double-checked to be sure she could breathe. Satisfied, he moved to the next step. Time for another mind-fuck. He ran his hand around her waist and over her very exposed buttocks. “You have a very spankable ass, you know. Just perfect for paddling.” A sound came from the other end of her bent body and he realized she tried to talk around the gag. She stopped when he bent and took her hand in his. “Tied tightly, I told you. So tight you couldn’t move.” As he spoke, he slid a black leather cuff around her left wrist, again fastening it with a small lock. “I am a man of promises, as I showed you the other night.” He locked the right wrist in its case, then idly took a small length of clothesline and looped it through the D-ring.
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“You will not be able to escape me. You will wonder just why you let yourself get put in this position.” He placed her arm alongside the seat and brought the rope down to the chair rung, stretching her arm out to tie it tightly. Her hand dangled, useless. Keeping his voice calm and neutral, he continued. “Part of you will scream with anger at what I do to you. Part of you will wonder if you’ve gone insane.” He cuffed and tied off the other arm, pulling her slightly forward in the process. He put his mouth next to her ear. “But the biggest part of you will let go of all that and force the others to go along for the ride.” He stood and walked around behind her again. “And do you know why? Because deep down inside yourself, so deep even you don’t look very often, down where you keep your darkest secrets—you want this.” He ran his hand along her back, watching her shiver. “You like this.” He paused to pick up the paddle from the dresser. “You need this.” He simply set the cold surface of the paddle on her skin, nothing more. She cried out and John knew if he ran a finger through her slit it would come up soaked with her juices. “You came from a simple flogging before. Can you come from a spanking?” He threw the words down, half in challenge, half in curiosity. Taking aim, he let the paddle fall. Lauren nearly came with the first slap of the paddle against her ass. God, what he did to her. She did like this. She did want it. No, she needed it. How did he know? Several times the paddle landed on the tender flesh, each slap making her gasp, not in pain, but anguish of a different sort. Her pussy cried out for relief. Unknowingly, so did her voice. He pulled her up by her ponytail. “Is it ready to come so soon?” he asked her. An object, he treated her like a toy for his amusement. She nodded into his fist. The paddle slapped her ass again, harder. “You will come only at my command, do you understand?” She nodded and the paddle descended again. A war began between her mind and body. She wanted to come, but he demanded her obedience. Another thwack and she cried out again, desperate to hold on. “I will count from four down to one. On one, you may come.” The paddle fell in the same place as the last time, the sting nearly making her crawl out of her skin. She couldn’t move. Not a single inch. Between the bar holding her legs apart, the angle at which she hung over the back of the chair, the ties on her arms and now his hand holding her head captive by her ponytail, she could only hang suspended at his commands. “Four.”
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The paddle again on the same spot. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t wait. Yet she must. “Three.” Her cry, strangled by the gag, came out garbled. In her head she said, “I can’t. I can’t hold it.” And yet she did, for she was his to command. “Two.” She whimpered, grabbing at the last shreds of control. “One. Come for me.” He felt her body convulse under his hands. No sounds came from behind the gag now, her orgasm had gone internal. The chair rocked and he steadied it, watching her pleasure flush her skin. The thrill of power started a wonderful tension coiling in his groin and he stood back as the orgasm left her, admiring her ass, now turned a beautiful shade of pink. Bending to remove the spreader bar, he helped her put her feet together, inhaling deeply the musky scent that proved her arousal. Reaching forward, he slipped the knots on the ropes to free her arms. When her hands pushed her body up a little on the chair, he smiled, glad to see she wasn’t all that far gone yet. The afternoon was still young and there was lots more where that came from. “Stand slowly. Your blood is uneven right now.” She rose, and when he caught her eyes, he saw she glowed. The pink cheeks of her face matched the pink of her ass and she grinned around the gag. He should get that out. Her jaw wasn’t used to it and would be tired, if it wasn’t already. Stepping behind her, he unclasped the buckle then gently removed the gag. A strand of drool came along with it and she chuckled. “That’s what you get when I can’t hardly swallow,” she managed as she wiped the drool on her chin with her hand. “Nothing I mind. Come, sit for a moment while I clean up.” She moved to the front of the chair and he hovered beside her, wanting to be sure she wasn’t going to fall over in a dead faint from the sudden standing. “I’m okay,” she reassured him. Then her ass touched the seat and she flinched. “Are you sure?” She gave a low chuckle and eased herself down, sitting slightly to the side, keeping the side he’d been harshest on up a little. “I’m fine.” “Then I’ll just rinse this off.” John left her to take the gag to the bathroom and run it under water. This would be her gag. No one else had ever used it. No one else ever would. Leaving it on the side of the sink to dry, he returned. She still sat where he’d left her, turning the wrist cuffs around and around, examining them for every detail.
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“What’s the verdict?” he asked. “With these? Or with that experience?” “Both.” He picked up the spreader bar and put it back against the wall, then came forward and knelt before her, untying the ropes from the chair as they talked. “Well, these are quite interesting. I wondered what it would feel like to be fettered, but these are actually pretty comfortable.” She jiggled her wrists. “And the locks sound like jingle bells!” “How do you feel about wearing them?” Her face grew thoughtful and she dropped her hands to her lap, her gaze still fixed on the locks. “I’m not sure. This is all so new for me, I’m not sure where the symbolism stops and the practicality begins.” John sat back and nodded. “There are a lot of emotional overtones that come out of BDSM. I have two friends whose wives are also their slaves. Completely. Total ownership transfer.” He watched to see if he shocked her and felt some surprise that he didn’t. She simply nodded and waited for him to continue his thought. “I also have another friend whose total BDSM kink is putting pillows over his partner’s wrists and ankles and telling her not to move. She doesn’t and they call that kinky.” Lauren chuckled. “After what you just did to me? I’d call that vanilla!” “What did you like most about that small scene?” “Small scene? I came like nobody’s business and you never once even touched my clit. How did you do that?” Now it was John’s turn to chuckle. “I didn’t. The best orgasms start in the brain. You, my dear young lady, have an excellent brain.” Her blush had faded but now it came up again at the compliment. “Thank you. But seriously, I thought friction to be a necessary part of pushing the orgasm along.” John nodded. “For most people, I think that’s so. A combination of mood and physical touch is needed. But for others…” He gestured to Lauren. “Others have such powerful imaginations that, coupled with a small amount of sexual pain—” “Like the paddling,” Lauren interrupted. “Like the paddling,” John acknowledged. “That’s all you need to push you over the edge. Not that a little physical friction isn’t also sometimes needed.” He grinned and Lauren suddenly saw the wolf hidden under his sheep’s clothing. Her still-moist pussy suddenly twinged. A thought occurred to her. “You didn’t come yet.” John stood. “Not yet. I usually can manage two, sometimes three times in a twentyfour-hour period. I don’t want to waste one too early.”
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Again she blushed, suddenly feeling like a schoolgirl. Well, wasn’t she? John, a teacher in the outside world, also became a teacher here in the bedroom, helping her understand not only what he wanted from her, but what she wanted from herself.
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Chapter Eleven John held out his hand. “Break’s over. Back on your feet.” Lauren put her hand in his without hesitation. He hauled her up, cuffs jingling, but instead of pulling her into his arms, he led her only a few steps from the chair before leaving her and moving the chair back against the wall. “There are three types of binding,” he explained as he picked up a small hank of white cotton rope. “Constriction prevents movement.” He uncoiled it and dropped the majority to the floor. Finding the two ends, he slid the soft rope through his hands to find the middle. “We’ve done that both times.” He chuckled. “To great effect, I might add.” Lauren grinned in return. “Definitely to great effect.” He came behind her, bringing the rope over her head to center it just under her breasts, pulling it back toward him and crossing it tightly. She gasped and took a wider stance. He waited for her to settle again before bringing the rope to the front again and crossing it up between her breasts, bringing the ropes to the back again. “Expansion stretches the body, opening it for exploration.” He tied off the ends, having made a rope bra of sorts. “Shibari is the Japanese art of using these two methods to force the body into some wonderful shapes.” “Is that what you’re doing now? Shibari?” She tripped over the word a little and John corrected her pronunciation. “A form of it, yes.” He pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “Wrist cuffs have to go. They’re in the way.” “Aww, I like these.” Despite her words, she held out each wrist in obedience. He set them on the dresser and chose another, slightly longer hank of the same rope. “How do you know which one you want?” “You see the ends? How they’re colored? Blue is twenty-five feet, red is thirty, green means fifty feet. Put your hands behind your back.” He kept the intonation of his voice practical. Another chapter, another small exposition. Besides which, talking disarmed her, helped her from putting those walls back up that he’d already taken down. That didn’t stop him from starting the tension by giving her nipple a small tweak just to remind her of her purpose. The shiver she gave made it worth it. “There’s a position called the Reverse Prayer. Not everyone can do it. You put your palms together and raise your arms behind your back, as if in prayer.” “Do you want me to try it?”
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“I’ll let you make this call. I don’t know your body well enough yet to know how flexible you are.” “I’m in excellent shape.” He heard the grin in her voice and watched her bend her arms upward. The movement forced her breasts into the rope. “Oh my.” “Very nice.” Before she could move again, he looped the rope through her forearms several times, wrapping it tight enough to prevent her from lowering her arms, but not tight enough to cut off circulation to her hands. As it was, her arms would go to sleep if left in this position too long. “If you’re constricting me here, is it a safe bet to say you’ll be stretching me down below?” John gave a final tug, seating the knot. Tucking the few inches of rope left into the tie, he stood back to examine his handiwork. “Would you like to see what you look like?” “Can I? I’d love to.” “Be right back.” While he was gone, Lauren twisted and turned, testing the ropes. Each movement showed her restrictions in a new way. Each one made her pussy open with need. Yeah, she liked this binding idea. Of course, there was far more to the BDSM lifestyle than just being tied up. Kinky sex alone actually fell pretty close to the vanilla side. What about all the other parts? The Dominance and submission, the power exchange, the Master/slave dynamic? Where did John stand on those? For that matter, where did she? Sarah willfully admitted to being Phillip’s slave. Beth acknowledged her own dominance in the bedroom, yet conceded Paul was not her slave. Where did she want to be with John? Because at this point, she knew that much. She wanted Big John as a part of her life. Just then he returned, digital camera in hand. “I don’t have a good set of mirrors to show you the other side of you, but if you’re willing, I’ll take a picture. We can delete it immediately.” “Go ahead.” The flash went off, then another. Lauren found them extremely arousing. Not only to be naked and tied up, but photographic evidence? Damn, but she was learning things about herself. John came around and showed her the picture. She smiled at the image of her hands pointed heavenward behind her back. “Wow. That’s pretty—and incredible.” “Does it hurt?” Lauren shook her head. “Stretches my shoulders some, but I suspect the minor discomfort is worth whatever you’re going to do next.” “I’ll delete these and get started then.” 99
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“Don’t delete them!” She spoke quickly to catch him. John paused. “Really?” She blushed. “I’d like a copy, actually. They really are very…sexy.” John laughed out loud. “Why, Lauren Carr, are you telling me you are an exhibitionist?” Her head dropped and she sighed. “I think I might be.” John’s hand came under her chin and tilted her head up. “You are a wonderful, sexy woman who deserves the very best experience I can give you.” He spoke from the heart. John had dropped the Dom mask, dropped the gentleman mask, dropped every mask and given Lauren a glimpse at the man he truly was. She couldn’t speak. Finally she managed a weak thank you and the spell broke. John had been unnerved by the energy that passed between them in that moment. He guessed that Lauren was too. John walked behind her and put his palms on his dresser, steadying himself until he regained control. What was that all about? Determined to complete the tie-up, he picked up a third length of rope, this one coded with a pink end signifying ten feet. Such short lengths were good for what he had in mind. Going back to Lauren, he didn’t dare make eye contact. Taking her nipple and pulling it forward, he might have been a little more forceful than was necessary to judge by the suddenness of her gasp. Not letting it deter him, he gave her nipple a twist before letting it go. Still not looking at her, he slid the rope under her right breast, bouncing the globe on the soft rope a moment before crossing the ropes and wrapping them around each other. A quick movement and the breast rounded, squeezed tightly by the rope. Lauren gasped again and John kept wrapping the breast and giving a quick tie to cinch it. Wrap, cinch. Wrap, cinch. The breast turned pink, then red, then a wonderful lavender. Another ten-foot rope took care of the other breast. In John’s experience no woman had identical breasts. One was always slightly larger than the other. In Lauren’s case, the left took one less turn of the rope. It too swelled and changed color. Lauren’s breathing became shallow, quicker in tempo. Taking no pity on her, he ran his fingernails over her engorged breasts. She cried out and stepped back, her legs suddenly unsteady. Well, he could take care of that. Lauren’s head reeled. He changed so quickly. One moment the teacher, the next speaking from the heart, the next the powerful Dom who only saw her body as a medium to sculpt for his pleasure. Her pussy openly gushed her arousal. He pulled her back toward the bed, but didn’t put her on it. Feeling a little foolish standing there, she watched him put a heavy rope over a large hook hanging from the ceiling. Had that always been there? How could she have not seen it? 100
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Of course, there had been so many changes to the room she shouldn’t be surprised that she hadn’t taken them all in. John worked quickly to set the rope to his needs, but Lauren had time to appreciate again his grace in movement. She wished he’d taken off his shirt. She would’ve loved to see those muscles move as he reached up and knotted the rope in place. Satisfied, he came back to her. He stood before her and she looked up at him, determined to make eye contact, but when they did, she nearly stepped away. Determined. Not going to take any flack. Not going to be disobeyed. All those things, she saw in his eyes. He put her under the hook and tied the rope he’d hung to the ties at her back. Pulling her up onto her toes, she suddenly found herself off balance. The rope caught her, however, and wouldn’t let her fall. John turned her away from him and again she had to lean into the ropes before she could catch her balance. He caught her foot and brought it up, sliding a loop of rope over her knee and tightening it so she couldn’t put it back down. Finding balance on one foot was harder, but she did it. The breeze came in the window and across her nowspread pussy and she nearly came. He stood before her, the anger gone from his eyes. Now he held only command. “You’re going to be tempted to give in to it. Don’t. Come only when I tell you.” “Got it.” His hand dipped between her legs and Lauren gave up trying to think. She leaned forward without realizing it, her head down and her eyes closing to better concentrate on the wonderful tingles he caused as he fingered her pussy lips, parting them to probe deeper, eventually sliding a single finger inside her. “You’re not going to come, are you?” She didn’t want to break the mood by answering, so she only shook her head. No, she didn’t want to come. This place felt so wonderful…just floating here…his fingers working magic. He stepped closer. The top of her head brushed him and she leaned forward a little more, raising her head to lean her cheek against his shirt. He felt so strong beside her. His free arm encircled her, holding her tightly. Her bound breasts pressed against his chest and she bit her lip to keep herself from coming. John picked up the tempo, rubbing his fingers harder over her tender skin. The small mewling noises she couldn’t stop became whimpers of desire and turned into moans of need. His occasional touches on her clit made her gasp. The soft, warm place of just a moment ago became a raging torrent and she gave voice to it. “Please let me come, John. I can’t—” “Hold it.” His voice, strong and firm, gave her something to hold on to. Gasping, she opened her eyes. “Ready?”
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Keeping such a tight rein on her body, she barely had the ability to nod. “Come for me then, Lauren. Come for me.” And she did. His fingers danced between her pussy lips, pressing on her clit, sliding in and out, pushing, poking, prodding. She leaned against him, letting the ropes take all her weight, her pussy wanting his touch as the orgasm coursed through her. She took a deep breath as her body quieted. John pressed again on her clit and another orgasm flipped her over the edge. If her hands had been free she would’ve held onto him for support. But they weren’t and all she could do was hang there and submit. And when he whispered in her ear, “One more time,” and rubbed her clit again, all she could do was throw her head back and laugh as she climaxed a third time. Lauren abandoned herself to his care and John felt the pleasure of it all the way down to his cock. He would never understand how people could enjoy quickies when there was so much pleasure to be gotten if one took the time. Everything he did today had been planned in advance. Everything but Lauren’s gifts of her orgasms. He’d suspected she could experience multiple orgasms when she came without pressure to her clit. This confirmation of his hope only served to prove his point— taking time beforehand moved the experience of sex out of the realm of the mundane. Stepping back, he grinned at her as he removed his hand from between her legs. Holding up his fingers, he showed her. “Look, you’re so wet they’re wrinkled.” A small towel lay amid the toys on the dresser behind him and he used it to dry them. She laughed again, still floating on her orgasmic high. “Is this what it means to be fucked silly?” “This is just a taste of what it means to be fucked silly, my dear.” He ran his nails down along her bound breasts and she gasped. “Did you just come again?” She dissolved into giggles. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Shaking his head, he put his thumbs on her nipples and pushed, pulling the ropes forward as he did so. Of course, this put pressure of a different sort on her breasts and she uttered a breathy, “Oh God.” “That’s four. Shall we try for a few more?” “Not…possible,” she gasped. “Is that a challenge?” He massaged her breasts to gauge her reaction. “No strength left.” He promptly dropped to his knees and blew gently over her wet pussy. Above him, she cried out. Parting her nether lips, he reached up to pinch her clit. Her juices made it slippery, however, and he found it difficult to catch. That didn’t seem to matter as her pussy gave forth another spurt of beautiful cream. Lauren giggled and sobbed at the same time. “Oh John…no more. Pity!”
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He stood. “I count six. I think you like being tied up more than you let on before.” For answer, she gave him a dry look and a snort. He laughed out loud. “Let’s get you out of this tie, shall we?” He undid the knots that held her leg off the floor then let her down off the hook. She stood, patiently watching as he wrapped and put away each rope then came back for the next. In less time than it took to get her into them, she stood naked before him once more. Only the ankle cuffs remained in place. When John knelt to remove those as well, Lauren finally spoke up. “Do you have to?” John paused and considered. He looked up at her and finally said, “For now.” She nodded. Once even those were gone, John led her to the bed, tossing pillows to her and unfolding the summer comforter. “Climb in,” he instructed. “Under the covers.” He put on his stern look and she obeyed. “Okay.” John removed his shirt, taking a moment to hang it on a hanger at the back of his bedroom door. When he kicked off his shoes, Lauren realized he wore no socks. Next came the pants and she sort of wished she were undressing him. That could be sexy as well. She was glad he was a boxer-briefs man. Traditional boxers did nothing to show off a man’s sexy ass. And then the briefs were gone and she got only a glimpse of the wonderful cock she remembered before he slid under the cover beside her, pulling her close. “Oh yeah. I like this too,” she murmured. “I thought you might. I’ve been pretty hard on you today.” “Yeah, but what a payoff. Hot damn, but that was amazing.” She propped herself up on one elbow to see him better. “And after already having come once? Totally unexpected.” “Have you come multiple times before?” He hiked himself onto an elbow as well and she blushed. “Only at my own hand. But even then, not more than twice. Well, there was one time when I managed three, but only that once.” “And now you’ve experienced six.” She grinned. “Yeah.” “So tell me what you think of all this now.” Lauren lay back down, one hand under her head, the other draped over her stomach as she searched for the words. “In the short form, I think I could really learn to love this. Nah, I already love it.”
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“Good to hear. And in the long form?” John brushed a hair that had escaped her ponytail from her face. Lauren sat up a little and pulled the elastic band out entirely to drop it on the floor. She shook her head to free her hair and lay back down, both arms now crossed and resting on her belly. “In the long form, I’m not sure.” She looked over at him. “What are you expecting of me…in the long form?” “You mean on the Master/slave continuum.” She nodded, her heart suddenly in her throat. He didn’t meet her gaze, instead looking at his hand where he combed his fingers through her now-loose hair. “Personally, I don’t think you’re slave material.” She swallowed hard. “Are you looking for slave material?” He shook his head and looked her in the eye. “Not really. Maybe someday. But it isn’t a deal breaker for me.” “So having someone like my friend Sarah, who’s a total, twenty-four/seven slave to her husband, who allows him to make nearly every decision concerning every aspect of their lives—that’s not what you’re looking for?” Under the light comforter, she twisted her fingers together, unsure whether she felt relief or regret. “It might be. Someday. It isn’t necessary right now.” He paused and sat up, pulling her up to face him. “Lauren, you are a woman I want to spend time with. Do I need a sub for a partner? Yes. I need someone who not only is willing, but who wants to let me lead, not in all things, but in many. Are you that sub? I think you might be.” He took her hands and stilled their fidgeting. “I planted a seed in you to see if it would take root. Not only did it sprout, the seed’s grown into a beautiful plant that I just saw blossom. You gave over your freedom, your choices, your entire body for me to guide and maneuver for our mutual pleasure. What am I expecting of you? Only that.” “You make it sound so simple.” She smiled. “It is simple. We’re two people who like each other very much and are learning more about ourselves as a couple.” Lauren’s smile deepened then she remembered something he’d said earlier. “And when you said I wasn’t slave material, what did you mean?” “Only that you’re a strong woman in your own right. I can’t see you giving up that authority twenty-four/seven. You value your autonomy and that’s as it should be.” He bent forward and gave her a small kiss. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll find our spot. Your friend Sarah and her husband might like it at the far end but we might not want to go so far.” A sudden thought occurred to him. “Hey, this Sarah, her husband’s name isn’t Phillip, by any chance?” Lauren looked surprised. “Yeah, it is. How did you know that?” She shook her head. “The newspapers. I forgot. Their story was everywhere. Beth sent copies to me overseas. That was a terrible thing they went through.”
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“Yes, it was, but that’s not how I knew.” At her raised eyebrows, he explained. “Phillip Townshend, Will Bondman and I have been friends since college. Will was my roommate for two years. When we got a suite my junior year, Phillip joined in.” “Are you telling me you know Sarah’s husband? Are good friends with him?” “Better than good friends. He was my mentor as a Dom.” John grinned. “And Will is constantly giving me pointers.” A thought occurred to him. “How do you know Sarah?” “Best friends since high school. Sarah, Beth, me. Inseparable for four years. Well, Beth since kindergarten, Sarah since high school.” “You weren’t at Sarah and Phillip’s wedding.” “I was overseas fighting a war, remember?” He nodded. “And I was just back two weeks.” A strong breeze blew in the window. The breeze turned into a wind that rattled a chain somewhere in the room and they both grinned. “It’s supposed to kick up into a doozy of a storm,” Lauren informed him. “I battened down the hatches earlier.” The room darkened as the sun went behind the clouds. “Your car windows up?” “They are.” John took her in his arms and lay back on the bed. “Then we have nothing to get up for, do we?” His lips pulled on her earlobe and Lauren let her body relax. “Nothing to get up for at all,” she agreed.
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Chapter Twelve Lauren drifted inside a very pleasant dream. She lay on a sunlit beach, half buried in the sand. Waves lapped at her back but she felt no sense of danger. Instead she felt warm, cocooned, safe. Sighing, she nestled deeper into the softness of the pillow. Pillow? Wait. Where did the sand go? Opening her eyes, her gaze fell on a wonderful sight. John lay on his side beside her, his beautiful blue eyes watching her as she slept. His hand caressed her back and she sighed again, giving him a lazy smile. “Good morning.” “Morning.” She frowned. That didn’t sound right. Her nose wrinkled as she realized what she’d done. “I fell asleep! We were talking and then you were kissing me and I felt so wonderful—and I fell asleep. How terrible!” John chuckled. “I would’ve been surprised if you hadn’t. I put you through quite a bit there.” “You’re not mad? I mean…” “Why should I be angry at something that gave me time to watch you unguarded?” He moved his hand when she stretched and rolled onto her side. “Besides, it’s not really morning. You only napped for about twenty minutes.” He checked the clock. Nearly five in the afternoon. “Well, I guess I don’t feel so bad then.” In truth, his words made her feel warm inside again. He liked watching her, he liked playing with her, he liked talking with her and he hadn’t run away after her panic attack. John was dangerously close to being a serious boyfriend. “How are you feeling? Physically?” Lauren stretched again, then ran her hands over her breasts, her stomach and her hips. “Everything seems to work just fine.” “Think you’re ready for another round?” She cocked her head at him. “You really think you’re going to get any more orgasms out of this body today?” “What say we find out?” Laughing, she threw off the comforter and sat up. “I’m yours to command.” He stood and gestured to her. “Then stand.” Even as she did so she got that little shiver of excitement tinged with fear again. Was that because all this bondage stuff was still a novelty? Or because the very nature
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of what they did held an element of danger? Whatever the reason, the tingle felt good and she wanted to do this over and over again. He stood in front of her and suddenly she felt very small. Her head barely reached the top of his shoulders, which were nearly twice as broad as her own. She’d felt the strength in the corded muscles of his arms and knew he could crush her without even working up a sweat. Tipping her head back, she gazed up at him and smiled her trust. “Kneel before me.” An order one might give a slave. Or a submissive. Or a woman trying to find her way between them. Slowly she sank to her knees. Her forehead came to cock-level and she suppressed a smile. He did have a gorgeous cock. Thick as her wrist and long enough to capture her attention. At some point in his life he’d been circumcised, so the tip shone clear and open to her. Last time he’d tied her hands so by default, there’d been a “look but don’t touch” rule in effect. Now, however, she wasn’t bound at all. No cuffs, no ropes, no gag. Just her. And just him. “Explore with your tongue only,” he instructed her. The smile she had suppressed a moment ago now played at the corners of her mouth. She already knelt up as far as she could to reach his semi-erect cock. From this position she could easily touch the tip with her tongue, although, as she got him hard, that would become a problem. Stretching her tongue out, she took a tentative lick, much as one might make a quick lick of a postage stamp. Not bad. She took a long lick up the side of his shaft as far as she could reach. Definitely not bad. He tasted of salt and musk. With a small bob of her head, she got herself to the underside and gave him a long, lingering lick from near the base of his cock to the tip. Her reward came in two parts. First came the strangled noise he tried to cover as a cough followed quickly by the rising of his cock to full erection. Of course, now he was harder to reach. But then, he’d said “explore” so she leaned in to lick the bottom of sac that dangled tantalizingly close to her face. She wanted to open her mouth and suck in each testicle, yet he’d also said to use only her tongue. Like giving him a cat-bath, she decided, and shortened the length while increasing the frequency of the licks. He stopped her with a hand on her head. She drew back, almost disappointed. Hadn’t he liked what she did? John sat heavily on the side of the bed and, with a simple gesture, beckoned Lauren to take a position between his knees. She obeyed without hesitation. Giving blowjobs wasn’t hard and she liked to think she had some skill. In fact, she liked giving them. John’s size raised some concerns, but then again, a challenge never daunted her. “Mouth only,” he told her. “No hands.”
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Nodding, she stared at his cock a moment as if trying to decide her best course of action. Locking her hands behind her back, she leaned forward, using her nose to raise his cock so she could get to the underside. She definitely liked his scent. For a moment, she paused there, just inhaling, letting her exhaled breath warm his skin. Then, with a second long, slow lick, she traced a path along the bottom of his shaft from the base all the way to the tip, where she again paused, his cock resting on her tongue as her breath teased him. Her reward came when he sank a little lower on the bed. Encircling the tip with her lips, she lightly closed on his sensitive flesh, using her tongue to explore the wine-dark skin. So hard yet so soft to the touch. Her eyes closed as her tongue delivered information that made her long for a more intimate exploration. His slit filled with the white precursor to his ejaculation. She felt it form on her tongue and licked it away, eager for a more specific taste of him. He groaned and her eyes flew open to make sure he was all right. Then his hand rested on top of her head and she settled into her task once more. Using small bobbing motions, she now quickened her movements, craving more of his taste. She dug her fingernails into the opposite elbows behind her back to keep from bringing her hands into play, she yearned to cup his balls and give them a squeeze. Her lips moved over the ridge of skin that separated tip from cock and her tongue darted over and around the rounded end. His breathing deepened. She was fully into her task, taking her cues from his small movements. Again her pace quickened. She couldn’t take all of him in her mouth, she knew that. But she could take some and now she did, lowering her mouth to go as deeply as she could. His hand on her head urged her deeper. Taking a deep breath, she pushed forward, feeling his cock hit the back of her throat. From somewhere deep inside her came an overwhelming desire to serve. She wanted him to use her for his own satisfaction. She wanted to be worthy of him. She pulled back, rubbing her lips over that wonderful ridge again. Once, slow and easy, twice a little quicker, three, four and five times in quick succession before grabbing another breath and plunging him deep into her throat again and again and again. “Use your hands and accept my cum.” His words, urgent and low, penetrated her concentration. Without hesitation, she brought her hands up, one to cup his wonderful sac, the other to rub the skin of his shaft. Keeping her mouth rubbing over the tip of his cock, she urged him forward, faster and faster. Salty liquid touched her tongue, his cum spurting out faster than she could keep up with. Keeping her mouth open, she let him fill it, closing to swallow and opening for more like a bird being fed. Cum covered her chin, her nose, her cheeks. It dripped down to land on her breasts and yet she didn’t move, wanting every last drop. Gently giving 108
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his balls a squeeze, she captured the last drops with her tongue before licking the cock head clean of all traces. Her movements, slow and quiet now, brought him down. She leaned back to watch the last vestiges of his orgasm. His eyes opened on her, lazy and sated. Lauren smiled shyly. “You liked?” “You have a talented mouth.” Inside a small pleasure blossomed. Over the years she’d given blowjobs, but not one of the men she’d given that gift to had called her mouth “talented”. She found she actually felt pride for that talent. “Go and get a warm washcloth from the bathroom. Bring it here and finish cleaning me.” She stood, her muscles protesting slightly at the unaccustomed use they’d been getting. Ignoring the small discomfort, Lauren gave him a small bow and a smile before turning to do his bidding. A large mirror hung over the sink and as she let the water run, she took a good, long look at herself. Her hair caught in and stuck to the cum along the side of her cheek. While she’d swallowed what she could, John was nothing if not prolific and her face, neck and breasts were plastered in white cum. Making no attempt to clean herself, she wet the washcloth and wrung it out. This must be the D/s part, she mused. Not only doing what he told her, but putting his needs first. She padded back to the bedroom, fully aware that she did so naked and covered in his cum. Deciding that felt sexy, she entered the room with a smile on her face. John watched her clean him, his cum still covering her where it had fallen. Lauren positively glowed in the aftermath of what he’d done to her. For her. With her. Deciding all those prepositions fit, he took the washcloth from her hands. Raising her up on her knees, he palmed the cloth and started at her forehead. The look of surprise almost broke his heart. Did no one ever treat her like the precious gem she was? He washed her face, turning the cloth over, capturing all his now-cold cum inside. When her cheek turned into his touch, he set his free hand on the other side of her face, his thumb running over the soft skin of her cheekbone. Neither spoke as he cleaned her neck and breasts. When he finished, she took the cloth from him and stood, again giving him that little bow of obeisance. The first time he thought she was just playing along. This time he realized she meant it. He watched her as she left to take it to the bathroom, loving the way the marks of the ropes still lined her skin. Not for the first time he considered whether Lauren might be more than just a partner in play. Yes, her overseas duties had damaged her. Yes, she still worked to adjust to life back here in the States. Yes, he had fallen in love with her. When had it happened? When she’d had the panic attack in the parking lot? When she’d gotten up to sing at the pub? This afternoon when she’d shown up despite not really understanding what she was in for? Yes, to all of the above. 109
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She walked into the room and knelt before him once more, her eyes still shining. He cupped her cheek with his hand again, loving her for it. With a fluid motion, he ran his palm along her arm to take her hand. “Come, I want you in my arms.” He pulled her up as he stood. Without hesitation, her arms went around his neck. Their lips met in a wonderful kiss of mutual contentment and John ended it only to swing her up into his arms. At her small cry of surprise, he grinned. “You really are one hell of a woman, Ms. Lauren.” “And you, Mr. McAllen, are one hell of a man.” He kissed her once more before throwing her onto the bed. She squealed and giggled as he jumped on right beside her. Grabbing the comforter, he pulled it over them then once more pulled her into his arms, knowing he didn’t want to let her go. Ever.
***** They lay together for over an hour, occasionally chatting about little things, but mostly just enjoying the companionable silence. Lauren basked in the quiet, listening to the strong sound of John’s heartbeat, watching the rise and fall of his chest, reveling in the feel of skin on skin. Her hand absently caressed the fine hairs on his upper chest, loving the feel of muscle underneath. The noises of the neighborhood came in through the open window, regular, everyday sounds that made Lauren smile. Somewhere a lawnmower worked to trim a postage-stamp-sized yard, kids had gotten up a game of kickball in the middle of the street, and—she sniffed—somewhere close someone barbecued. As if sparked by the wonderful aroma, her stomach growled. “Sounds like the slave girl is hungry,” John commented, his eyes still closed. Lauren liked how deep his voice became after an afternoon of sex. “She is. Is the harem Master also hungry?” she teased. “I have no harem. I keep only one slave at a time.” “At a time, hmm? Never been tempted for two-on-one?” At that he chuckled and opened one eye. “There isn’t a man alive who would say no to that.” She grinned and turned so her back rested against his side. “To be expected. I doubt there’s a woman alive who’d say no to being serviced by two men either.” John came up on one elbow and Lauren twisted to see him. “Is that something you might like to do someday? Invite another man in to play with you along with me?” Lauren hadn’t really considered it but his words sent a shiver straight to her pussy. Yeah, she’d like to do that. She’d like to do a whole lot more with Big John. In fact, the more she thought about it, the hornier she got. Her blush gave her away and he chuckled. 110
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“Then when you’re ready, I will make it so.” “Don’t suppose you’d make something else so right now?” She rolled onto her back and ran her foot up and down his leg in a very suggestive move. He raised an eyebrow and slipped his hand between her legs. Without compunction, she spread them wider to give him access, knowing what he would find. John laughed out loud when his fingers discovered what his suggestion had done to her. “So the proper woman hides a slut inside.” Lauren blushed, knowing she should be ashamed instead of feeling a flush of pride. “If being a fully formed, sexual creature is being a slut, then yes, I am.” He brought his wet fingers up to rub them gently over her lips. Bending, he whispered something softly, following it with a tender kiss. Lauren’s thoughts swirled. Had he whispered what she thought? She wanted to break the kiss and ask and yet, what if she were wrong? He deepened the kiss and she met him, passion for passion, her heart already knowing what her mind had just figured out. His fingers plunged between her labia, sliding over her clit and past it, then back again, bringing up the juices from her now-very-wet pussy to rub them over her clit. Lauren would’ve gasped, but his lips still held hers. His tongue danced over hers, invading her as his fingers invaded her pussy, pressing in deep. She writhed under him, his thumb on her clit and his fingers in her vagina, his tongue possessing her mouth just as his hand possessed her pussy. With a small cry, she came for him. He released her, wiping his wet fingers on her hip. She got up on her elbows and looked at him with admiration mixed with disbelief. “How many was that you got out of me today?” “Seven.” “Hot damn.” Her stomach growled again, and John laughed. “Okay, slave-girl-slash-slut-slash— what was it you called yourself—‘fully formed, sexual woman’? I’m hungry too. Care to join me for dinner?” “You bet! Apparently one works up an appetite after several hours of unremitting sex.” “Go take your shower. I’d join you, but I think we’d have sex again and then we’d never get to dinner.” She laughed and made for the shower. “Think it would be an excellent diet plan.” In the bathroom Lauren looked at herself in the large mirror. Her hair hung in a disheveled mess and her cheeks bloomed with color. The rope marks had faded for the most part and only a trace of color remained where her breasts had been tied, along with a few spots where he’d missed in cleaning up his cum. A small brush lay beside
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the sink and Lauren ran it through her hair, untangling it some before jumping in the shower for a full wash. As the water splashed over her body, Lauren turned over the words she now felt sure he’d said just before giving her that last orgasm. Orgasm? Her thoughts derailed. Seven orgasms? Really? She ducked her head under the water in an attempt to refocus her thoughts. John definitely had her attention. Life with him would never be dull, Lauren knew that much. He might be a history teacher by day, but by night? The man was one magnificent hunk o’ burning flesh, that was for sure. She tried to imagine what life would be like with him as she washed her hair. He’d said they’d find their spot along the Master/slave continuum and then he’d playfully referred to her as his “slave girl”. She liked that. That he’d said it in play, that was, not that she was a slave. Could she go that far? Maybe someday, but no way was she ready yet. Finished, she toweled dry, wrapped one towel around her hair to keep it out of her face and another around her middle as she ventured back to his bedroom. As she flipped off the bathroom light, she mused on those whispered words once more. If only she could be sure of what he’d said. For her heart very much wanted the words to be what she thought she’d heard, “I love you.”
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Chapter Thirteen “I have steaks in the fridge,” John told her as he passed her on his way to take his shower. “If you don’t mind, would you take them out? And the vegetables for grilling.” “No problem,” Lauren told him and went to retrieve her clothes and get dressed. But she couldn’t find her clothes. She was sure she’d folded them and left them right there on the dresser. Hunting around the room didn’t produce them either. She even looked under the bed where she only found a small handful of dust bunnies. The water shut off in the shower and she still hadn’t taken the steaks out of the fridge downstairs. Feeling very self-conscious, she padded down the stairs, glancing through the sidelights beside the front door to make sure no one could see her, then bolting through the small hall to the kitchen. Big, sliding glass doors led out to a small deck and his tiny backyard, but the drapes were pulled mostly closed and Lauren breathed a sigh of relief. The summer heat really made clothes unnecessary, she decided. Then she opened the fridge and the blast of colder air made her shiver. Working quickly, she slid out the plastic container holding the marinating steaks and the one holding green peppers and onions that had been cut up for grilling. She set those on the counter, then, on a hunch, picked up the large tomato that sat on the shelf beside them before closing the refrigerator door. He padded out to her, dressed again in the same slacks and white shirt. She cocked her hand on her hip and gave him a good once-over. “So the Master gets to dress while the slave girl has to walk around naked?” John picked up the steaks, heading for the back door. “Yep. I knew you were a smart woman.” He slid the door shut behind him. Lauren opened and closed her mouth. Twice. There really was no rejoinder to that. She’d asked, he’d answered. Simple as that. Of course, the more she thought about it, the more she liked it. Served as a sort of symbolism, really. Picking up a bamboo skewer, she slid the vegetables down the shaft, thinking some very naughty thoughts. John stopped in the doorway on his way back in to get the vegetables. Lauren, completely naked and apparently comfortable with her lack of clothes, stood with her back to him, neatly spearing the peppers and onions onto their respective shafts. She looked—right. As if she’d always been there. As if this was the way life was supposed to be.
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He liked the feeling of warmth that filled him, a feeling that had nothing to do with the kinky sex they’d shared all afternoon. She hummed to herself as she worked, the volume too quiet for him to do more than catch the odd note here and there and he realized she was happy. Had he made her so? His ego would like to think so. He also knew he’d like to make her happy much more often. She deserved that after what she’d been through. Hell, he deserved it too. Before thoughts of his own demons ruined the mood, John stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind him. She turned and he loved her profile as much as her rear view. Her breasts, nearly returned to their normal color, stood out in wonderful relief, the nipples gone soft with the lack of stimulation and the day’s heat. Well, he could take care of that. “I nearly have these done. Are you ready for them?” “Yep.” He set down the plate he’d used to carry the steaks and came up behind her, encircling her with his arms. She smelled of his soap and shampoo instead of her normal fragrances. While he missed the spices, he kind of liked her smelling like him. Running his hands along her belly and hips, he grinned as she tried to skewer the last pepper and missed. “Am I bothering your concentration?” He bent around so he could see her face. She’d tucked her lip between her teeth and focused intently on the kabob in her hands. With great determination, she managed to center the skewer and slide the pepper home. John took the thin bamboo skewer from her hand and set it gently on the plate with the others. Keeping her back against him, he cupped her breasts, feeling her lean into him. She kept her hands on the counter, making no move to prevent him. “You are being awfully compliant,” he told her. “You are being too interesting to stop,” she murmured back. For answer, he picked up one of the empty skewers and twirled it in his fingers. “What I like about BDSM is that everyday, common items,” being right-handed, he rested the sharp tip against her left breast, “become greater than themselves when brought into play.” Gently he pressed the point against the tender skin of her areola until she gasped. Her hands came up to rest on his, not pushing him away, just following his movements. Encouraged, he traced around her nipple with it, pleased to see it rise to his probing. She sighed and her head fell heavily against his chest. He could do so much with her right now and forever. But the wind shifted and wafted the smell of steak through the kitchen. Abruptly he dropped his hands, slid one hand against her back to push her upright and picked up the vegetables. “Hold that thought,” he told her as he headed out the door.
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Lauren’s head reeled. How on earth had he reduced her to a quivering mass in less than a minute? She’d been sated not half an hour ago. Sated to the point where she figured she wouldn’t be playing with her toy at home for at least a week. And a simple pull against the chest, some fondling of her boobs, that damn skewer and her pussy was gushing as if it hadn’t had a cock in years. She picked up the bamboo skewer and eyed it thoughtfully. Shaking her head, Lauren gathered herself and set the kitchen table. Through the opening in the drapes over the sliding glass doors she could see him out on the deck, flipping one of the steaks up onto the warmer. He looked so…normal. Nothing in his demeanor to show he could melt her into butter with just a touch. She watched for several minutes, enjoying the way he moved, how he shifted his weight from one side to the other, his back always military-straight, even when relaxed. You could spot a soldier by just the way he stood. Something about posture the boys learned early and carried with them into manhood set them apart and made them special. Being sure to keep the drapes between her and any neighbors who might be looking this way, Lauren slipped open the door for John as he brought dinner in. “Smells wonderful. Did you want something to drink?” she asked him. “In the fridge are some sodas. Regular for me.” He set the plate on the table as Lauren went to the refrigerator and took out two cans of soda. “Regular for the man of the house,” she announced as she set the can beside the glass at his place setting, “and diet for me.” He held out her chair and, feeling a bit strange sitting down for dinner entirely naked, Lauren took her seat. She hadn’t been able to find any paper napkins, only the cloth ones in the drawer. Glad for the extra-large size, she draped the deep-blue material over her lap, very aware of her nudity. John, however, didn’t even seem to notice. He held the plate for her as she took the smaller steak on top along with one of the skewers of vegetables. Helping himself, he set the plate down before reaching over and taking her hand. “This is what it would be like if you ever should choose to take up a totally BDSM lifestyle. Different couples have different protocols, everyone works out what works for them.” He spoke with complete seriousness. Lauren felt a lump form in her throat and swallowed hard to get rid of it. “I’m not saying, should we continue, that we’d ever go twenty-four/seven with the Master and slave idea, but I wanted you to get a feel for what it would mean. Do you understand?” Lauren shook her head. “Not entirely. The whole you-clothed-me-naked thing doesn’t feel extreme. It feels…sexy.” “Why?”
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“Because…” The words weren’t quite there to express the contentment she felt in this middle-class house with its middle-class yard and middle-class kitchen, all of which hid something wild and strange and wonderful. She could be happy here. Saying all that, however, meant taking a step toward a commitment she didn’t want to force John into. Finally she just shrugged. “It feels sexy probably because it’s different. Something new. Novel.” Something in his eyes changed, became more reserved. He pulled his hand away and picked up his knife and fork. Had she missed a moment here? For a while the conversation remained a little strained, or at least, Lauren felt it did. He told tales from the classroom and how he’d always wanted to teach. For her part, Lauren mostly listened, trying to figure out exactly what made John McAllen tick. Each story gave her clues, but his intentions toward her remained a mystery. Then, the meal eaten, John leaned back in his chair, swirling the last pieces of ice around in the bottom of his glass. Very little soda remained and he tossed it off as neatly as if it were a shot of whiskey. She decided to ask the question that had been in the back of her mind since before dinner. “John, you said something before that’s really making me think differently about this.” He raised an eyebrow and waited. “What you said about everyday objects having hidden uses.” John nodded. “And?” “It’s everywhere, isn’t it? This house, a normal house in a normal neighborhood looking pretty much like every other house on the block. And yet there are whips and chains and wonderful leather cuffs upstairs in the bedroom. And not just for decoration. What we did this afternoon…” “Wasn’t normal?” he supplied when she fell silent. “But it was, wasn’t it? Normal. For some people, BDSM stuff is normal.” Lauren shook her head. This wasn’t coming out right. “Let me try again. Because BDSM isn’t considered normal by the general populace, this house hides a secret. Just like the bamboo kabob skewer holds a secret. Just like I hold a secret.” He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his hand close enough to touch her. And yet it didn’t. “What is your secret, Lauren?” “I think all this secrecy…is incredibly sexy.” She blushed and lowered her voice to make the admission out loud. As a result, she missed the fleeting smile that dimpled his cheek before he caught himself. “So, keeping our sex life private is a turn-on for you?” Lauren started to nod, then stopped. “Not totally private. Beth and Sarah know.” “As do two friends of mine.” 116
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She grinned at that. “I feel like I’ve been let into a wonderful secret club. One that I always knew existed, but didn’t know how to go about entering.” “Remind me later and I’ll teach you the secret handshake.” “There’s a secret handshake?” Lauren looked surprised and when John laughed she realized she’d been gulled. “Okay, wise guy. For that, you can wash dishes.” Standing, she collected the plates as he pushed his chair back. “I thought I was the one to give the orders around her.” “Don’t worry, I’ll dry and put away. You, however, can get your fingers all wrinkly.” She set the dishes beside the sink. His arms went around on either side of her, a glass in each hand. That wonderful feeling of warmth and protection stole over her again. He lifted her hair to place a kiss at the nape of her neck and she rolled her eyes as her knees went weak—again. Damn, but what he could do to her with such simple little touches! She turned around, her arms going up around his neck. As she did, she noticed the time on the wall clock and her brow furrowed. “How on earth did it get to be seven o’clock already?” “Time flies when you’re having fun?” “Time doesn’t exist when you’re having fun’s more like it.” Smiling seductively and pressing her naked body against the wonderful expanse of his chest, she made a suggestion. “You have a dishwasher, I see. We could just put these in there and find something else to do with our time.” He laughed and kissed her soundly. Her lips parted as his lips bruised hers, she welcomed the dance of tongues as her stomach fluttered all over again. Hadn’t they just had an entire afternoon of sex? How on earth could she be so brazen as to want more? “I think I awakened a sleeping tiger,” he said when the kiss ended. Lauren nodded. “I think you did too.” “Then perhaps we should just let the dishes sit right where they are.” With a flourish, he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder as if she were a sack of potatoes. She squealed, more in surprise than protest. How could she protest anything he did to her after proving himself so many times already? He didn’t take her upstairs, however. John stopped in the entranceway and set her down, feet first on the tiled floor. He made sure she stood steady before he stepped back. “Are you ready to take this to the next level?” Lauren studied him, trying to read his suddenly serious gaze. He’d asked a question but she sensed a challenge underneath. What the heck, everything had gone so far beyond anything she’d ever dreamed of. She shrugged. “Sure. Why not?” John took another step back and gestured to the stairs. “Up you go.” He waited until she got to the bottom of the stairs before adding, “On your knees.” 117
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“Really?” He only waited. With a small shake of her head, she knelt on the first step and started up. By the time she reached the fifth step, she apparently had decided to enjoy herself and she shook her ass invitingly, turning each step gained into a sensuous, inviting dance. John hid his grin. Yeah, Lauren not only took what he dished out, she turned it around and gave it back to him tenfold. He’d listened to Phillip and Will talk about their wives that way, but until now, he hadn’t really understood what they meant when they said Sarah and Jill really kept the playing field level. She’d nearly reached the top and John took the stairs slowly behind her, enjoying the sway of her ass. Her body bore little trace of the marks he’d put on her before. That was good. Coloring that heart-shaped ass could easily become a habit. “Into the bedroom,” he instructed when she paused in the small hallway. Three doors opened off this tiny area, one to the bathroom, one to another bedroom he used as a study and of course, the one to his bedroom. She flung an amused look over her shoulder and turned to the left, heading straight for the foot of the bed. She paused there and John realized she awaited his orders. He came around in front of her, holding out a hand to help her up. “Come here,” he told her and she took his hand and, in one fluid movement, stood and slid into his arms. She felt so comfortable to hold. He savored the moment, pulling her in so her head rested against his chest, his arms encircling her, loving the fact that she stood here, still naked, still willing, still his. “I know we have a lot of details to work out,” he said quietly, his gaze looking into the future. “If you’re willing, though…” His voice trailed off. How did he ask the woman he was falling in love with if she wanted to be his slave? And was that really what he wanted? She stirred and he released his hold enough for her to look up at him. Trust shone in her eyes. “I’d like that. To work out the details, I mean.” She snuggled back into place. “I’m in no hurry to make any decisions and am perfectly willing to see where this goes.” “Even if it goes all the way to a Master/slave relationship?” God, that sounded so cold, even to him. She sighed and he realized it signified contentment as she burrowed even closer. “Even if it goes all the way to a Master/slave relationship.” For a moment, he couldn’t speak. Still somewhat stunned, he stepped back and tilted her chin up to look directly into her eyes. He saw only truth and trust reflected there. Pulling her close again, he shook his head. “Lauren, you are one hell of a woman. I am not going to let you go.”
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Her arms went around his waist. “The feeling’s mutual. I know a good man when I see one.” Her head popped up as one hand snaked around to toy with his cock, the thin pants shielding him not at all. “And a good man is hard to find.” John laughed as his cock stirred with her gentle teases. “Into the bed then, slave.” “Your command is my wish, Master!” With a quick turn, she bounded over the footboard and onto the mattress. The summer comforter bunched under her where they’d left it after their last session and she pushed it down to the bottom of the bed as he stripped off his shirt and slid down his pants to reveal what she’d done to him. “You are a minx one minute and a sexpot the next,” he told her as he climbed in beside her to pull her into his arms again. “A woman of mystery always intrigues a man,” she murmured before his kisses stopped her from speaking anything further. He loved the way she melted into him, her body sliding into all the right places. She smelled of his cologne now, of his soap and shampoo. He rather enjoyed the musky scent of sex that clung to her, or perhaps he had newly aroused out of her. Her hands roamed over his back, urging him onward, and he obliged. The spot where her neck met her shoulders provided him with a very interesting noise from the back of her throat. He paused there to nibble and suck at it until she arched her back and cried out. His blood ran hot and he slid his hand down her belly and between her legs, pulling them apart. He wanted her. Like an animal in heat, he wanted to sink his cock into her and take possession of what she so freely offered. She spread her legs wide for him. For her, he wanted to be gentle, to be loving and kind. To take her like the men did in the romance books, with care more for her than for him. But the time for that was past. He wanted her around him. He needed her to complete him. When she raised her hips and whispered, “Please, now. Take me, John,” he didn’t hesitate. With a single plunge, he slid inside the warm wetness she had waiting for him. He groaned as the tightness of her pussy first resisted then gave way to his persistence. Out and in, out and in, his thoughts faded into the oblivion of lust. Beneath him, she cried out, her legs wrapping around his waist as he rode her hard, pushing deep into her pussy, stretching her to hold his cock. He felt his balls bunch and he savored the sweet moment. The stop between life and death that was the closest humans could come to touching heaven. One heartbeat. Two. A third and he was over, his body pressing into hers of its own accord, their cries coming in tandem as her pussy contracted around his cock. And when it was done, he lay exhausted, her breasts a pillow for his head. Sighing with contentment, he drifted off to sleep.
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Chapter Fourteen When John awoke, his head lay on his feather pillow, the comforter had been pulled over him and Lauren slept soundly beside him. Rolling over, he glanced at the clock on his dresser, forgetting that he’d turned its face to the wall so Lauren wouldn’t see it while they were playing that afternoon. Losing the sense of time passing played a big role in the scenes he’d crafted for her. Night had fallen, although light from the street lamp provided enough illumination for him to pad his way around the end of the bed to fix the clock. Gently he slid out of bed, trying not to rock the mattress and wake his lady love. Turning the clock, he blinked several times as his brain registered the fact that it was four o’clock. In the morning? Had he really fallen asleep at eight last night? No wonder he felt ready to get up and get the day started. A look at the bed convinced him he didn’t really want to do that. Lauren lay on her side, her back to the side of the bed he’d slept on. Both arms were tucked up tight against her body, her knees pulled up as well. Nothing could bring home more clearly the fact that Lauren had demons that haunted her even in her sleep. At least he’d chased those demons away for a while yesterday, he thought as he climbed back into bed beside her. Gently he rolled her into his arms, gratified when she curled into him. She mumbled something and John put his ear closer to her mouth. “What?” “I need to get these boys to safety.” A lump formed in his throat. “I’ll help you,” he whispered and pulled her closer. He whispered it again, meaning it in an entirely different way. “I’ll help you.” Lauren awoke to an empty bed and the smell of bacon. Taking a luxurious stretch, she tested her muscles for any signs of residual soreness after yesterday’s decidedly exhausting activities. Feeling no impediments, she rose, used the bathroom and used his brush to untangle the mess her hair had gotten into. Done, she turned to the next item in her morning ritual only to realize she had no toothbrush. She did what she could with her finger and a small dab of toothpaste, her innate sense of hygiene not allowing her to use his brush. There were limits to what could be shared. Not even bothering to look for her clothes and feeling increasingly comfortable with her nudity, she bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen. John stood at the stove in a T-shirt and jeans this morning. “Ah ha! Just in time. Grab the eggs out of the fridge?”
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She did, bringing over the carton and sliding one arm around his waist from behind as she set the eggs on the counter. He lifted his arm and she bent under it to give him a morning hug. John did her one better, leaning over to give her a quick kiss. “Morning.” He smiled. “Morning.” Was she really blushing? She’d spent the night with a man before. Yes, it had been in a dusty, sandy tent and they’d breakfasted in the mess hall, but still. She wasn’t a child and this wasn’t her first time. John nodded toward the toaster. “Go ahead and put in some bread.” Glad for something to keep her hands busy lest she let them roam all over his most wonderful body again, she opened the loaf of wheat bread and plopped two slices into the toaster. “This is far more breakfast than I usually have,” she told him. “Me too. Special occasion and all that.” He grinned at her and waggled his eyebrows and she laughed. “Okay, since it’s a special occasion, how could I say no?” She looked around. “Orange juice too, I suppose?” “In the fridge.” Sure enough, right on the middle shelf. She pulled out the pitcher, found two glasses and poured them each a healthy glassful. The table hadn’t been set yet, so she did her part as he plated the bacon and then poured off the grease into a container that once held cocktail peanuts. “How do you like your eggs?” “Over easy,” she told him. That odd feeling of contentment stole over her again and she paused, one hand on the back of a kitchen chair as she looked around the room. Beth had this. A home, a husband, a kid. Sarah had the husband and the home. They both lived lives they loved. For the first time Lauren realized she could have it as well. She thought of her apartment, sparsely furnished with barely any sign she lived there. Well, she hadn’t really, had she? She existed there. And if she was honest, she hid there. She watched John expertly flip her eggs and her throat caught. Could she really do this? Could such a dream really be possible for her? Inside herself she rooted around for that feeling of listlessness that had settled over her ever since leaving the service. That lassitude kept her chained to inactivity. Oh, she filled her days with busywork, taking Ian out to places, wandering through the park, visiting museums and the zoo. All the places she’d always wanted to go to but never had the time. She’d told herself and her friends she was on an “extended vacation” but everyone knew she was running away from life. John, whether he knew it or not, offered her a way back. Did she want him because of that? Or was this true love? As for the sex, yeah, she could live with him as a Dom in the bedroom. Yesterday had been incredible. But what was today?
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Too filled with questions, she only nodded when he pointedly reminded her that the toast had popped. She buttered it with automatic motions, coming to sit at the table when he gestured, her mind once more retreating into a safe place until she figured everything out. So filled with her own thoughts, she started in surprise when John held her chair for her. “Aren’t you supposed to make me eat off the floor or something?” she asked, her voice a bit sharper than she intended. “Do you want to?” “No.” “Then if you will…” He gestured to the chair he still held for her. Pulling herself together, she sat with as much grace and decorum as she could muster. Unfortunately, she couldn’t muster much and she more or less plopped into the seat. When he sat, she apologized. “I’m sorry. I know we’re working out the details but I don’t think I’d like being treated like a dog very much.” John studied her and Lauren set the cloth napkin on her lap to cover her own sudden self-consciousness. “We both have limits. Lines we’re not going to cross.” He shrugged and picked up his fork. “Part of the fun is finding those lines.” Lauren picked up her own fork, studiously keeping her gaze on her plate. “And you’re not going to be upset when I say, ‘no, that’s a limit and I’m not going there’?” John put his fork down and took her hand. Lauren looked up, wanting him to be her knight despite her words to him days ago. He didn’t disappoint. “Lauren. I’m not a monster. Will I push you? Yes. Will I ask you to try new things? Yes. But you have a lot of power here too, you know. If you don’t want to do something, I will never, never…never force you.” Lauren believed him. He sat there, so earnest in his promise, how could she not? Suddenly feeling foolish, she blushed. “Thank you. I know you’ve said it before and I’m sorry I got a sudden…” She searched for the right word and came up empty. “It’s okay. We all need reassurance from time to time. And I will always be here and I will always make the same promise.” He gave her hand a squeeze before picking up his fork and taking a bite. “Eat your eggs before they get cold.” Feeling reassured, Lauren took a bite, then another. “These are good!” He chuckled. “You sound surprised.” “I am. Is that cinnamon in the eggs?” “Yep. You like it?” “I do! Never would’ve thought to do that. But yeah, I like it a lot.” They finished their breakfast and added the morning’s dishes to those from the night before to the dishwasher. Lauren stretched and looked regretfully at the clock. “I didn’t expect to spend the night. I’m afraid I have an appointment this afternoon I need to get to.” She didn’t volunteer what the appointment was and felt relief when he
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didn’t question her. In fact, she didn’t have an appointment. Yet. But she would. After the last twenty-four hours? Yes, she definitely would be making an appointment. “Let me get your clothes. Did you want to shower here?” Lauren shook her head. “No, it’s okay.” John disappeared up the stairs and Lauren fidgeted in the kitchen. Was she supposed to follow him? Or was he bringing her things down from some hidey-hole she shouldn’t see? Damn, but this kind of relationship made for a ton of questions. He brought her things and she dressed in front of him, feeling almost as disconcerted as she had when she’d undressed the day before. Had it really only been one day? So much of her life had changed in such a short space of time. “There’s a reenactment this weekend,” he told her as she dressed. “It’s huge. We’re in the midst of all the one-hundred fiftieth anniversaries of all things Civil War.” “Wow. That war seems so long ago. Hard to believe it’s only been a hundred and fifty years.” “This weekend is Antietam.” Lauren paused, her fingers stilling on her blouse. The way he dropped that name, the heavy sound of his voice, she didn’t know much about the battles of the Civil War, but apparently that one had significance. When she looked at him, clearly not understanding, John explained. “Antietam was the bloodiest battle of the war with the highest number of Americans killed in a single day, ever.” She gave him a skeptical glance as she slid her feet into her sandals. “Remember,” John’s voice was soft, “every man who died in that battle was an American.” Lauren now understood. “Brother against brother, neighbor against neighbor. All of them Americans.” “It’s right that their deaths are commemorated.” “By reenacting the battle where they died?” She knew she sounded skeptical. “Yes.” That was it. No apology, no explanation. Just “yes” as if that were enough reason for him to be there. Lauren gave him a level gaze as she assessed his answer. Anyone else and she’d challenge him with the “boys playing war” argument. Except there was something in John’s stance that brooked no argument. And something in his eyes she hadn’t seen before. For a moment, he wasn’t there with her. He’d gone somewhere else. But then he smiled and the ghost that haunted him disappeared. “What do you say? You think you’d like to come along?” “I thought women stayed home and did laundry while their men were off fighting.”
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“Most did. Some came along and lived outside of camp.” “Camp followers?” She swayed her hips suggestively. “There were those too.” Lauren laughed and picked up her purse. “Don’t have a period saloon-girl outfit.” “There were nurses there as well, you know.” She stilled. “Clara Barton started at Antietam. Almost got killed doing it.” She turned to face him. “I do know a little of my nursing history. And I’m not going as a nurse.” He pulled her into his arms. “I’d love for you to join me this weekend. But I won’t push. Think about it.” He kissed her and Lauren wanted to say yes right then and there. But then he pushed her toward the door. “Give me a call later.” “Will do.” He walked her to the car and closed the door for her once she was inside, then waved to her as she drove away. Humming a little to herself, Lauren couldn’t wait to get home. A few blocks from his house, she pulled over and took out her cell. Scrolling through the numbers, she found the one she wanted and clicked “send”. “Hello, I’d like to make an appointment with Dr. Butters for this afternoon if possible. Yes, I was a patient of his a few months ago, but I wasn’t ready to talk about what happened to me over there then. Yes, I am now. Excellent. I’ll take the cancellation and see you shortly. I’m ready.” I am very much ready now, Lauren thought to herself. Time to take care of her demons. That evening, Lauren couldn’t figure out why it had taken her so long to go see Dr. Butters. She felt so much better for having talked to him. He’d helped her to understand her PTSD wasn’t a curse or a weakness of her own spirit, but an honest and true reaction to the terrible things she’d witnessed. For the first time in months, Lauren felt like the sun might be rising rather than setting on her life. She almost called John then thought better of it. He definitely played a part in her renewal but she needed to do this for herself. Her friends too would play their own part, and in fact, already had by making her a part of the gang again. She had initially felt like an outsider with them and had attributed that to the fact that she’d been gone and they’d moved on. Now, however, she understood that wasn’t the real reason. Only part of it was her inability to tell them of the things she had seen and done over there. The rest of it had to do with their relationships with their husbands. But now Lauren had been initiated into the world of BDSM and that drew them closer together. As to her experiences overseas, those she would continue to shield from them. She’d gone through all that so they wouldn’t have to. That was something Dr. Butters had helped her to understand. Knowing she’d played a part in their protection gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling.
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As to the reenactment, Dr. Butters helped her put that in perspective as well, although her decision to go had more to do with the ghost in John’s eyes than the good doctor’s words. As Lauren climbed into bed that night, she smiled into the darkness. She’d done a lot more smiling in the few short weeks since meeting John than she had in several years. Rolling over, she tucked herself into the tight little ball she always formed for sleep, but then purposefully stretched her legs and rolled onto her stomach. Dr. Butters had warned her old habits would be hard to break. She might as well get started on breaking this one right away. With a deep breath and a sigh, she fell asleep, her body taking up far more room than it had in years.
***** “So besides a sleeping bag, a tent and a cookstove, what else do you need?” Beth balanced the baby on her hip as she pulled a neatly rolled thermal sleeping bag from the storeroom closet. “I figure we’ll be camping out the entire weekend, starting late Thursday night. I’ve got clothes enough and John says there’s a Laundromat in town if we need it.” “You staying in a campground or out on the field?” “Campground. John’s friend, Will, has offered to share his RV with us, but we thought a tent might give us more…privacy.” Lauren couldn’t hide the silly grin that had been with her since talking with John that morning. Okay, so maybe going off to watch grown men play at war wasn’t exactly the most romantic weekend getaway, but when the man was John McAllen, how could it be anything but wonderful? Beth laughed and handed the baby to Lauren. “Oh girl, you have it bad.” She turned her attention to her infant daughter. “Auntie Lauren is learning just how much fun it is to be a bad girl and she’s going to have a wonderful time this weekend.” She dropped her voice and gave Lauren a knowing look. “If Big John keeps her tied up, that is.” “Beth!” Her friend laughed, hoisting the sleeping bag in one arm and a small bag in the other. “These are the tent stakes,” she explained. “I assume you remember how to put up a tent?” Lauren shook her head and followed her friend into the kitchen. “I did just get out of the Army, you know. Tents are still the default housing for troops on the move.” “Well, this ain’t no Army tent. And it’s big. You’re probably going to need a camp site all to yourselves. The tag says it sleeps eight, but we’ve found the four of us fit quite nicely.” She dropped the bags on the floor and took Emily from Lauren’s arms where she had been intent on pulling every lock of Lauren’s hair just in case any of them weren’t attached.
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“You know,” Beth informed her as she pried loose Emily’s fist from Lauren’s tresses, “you can tell her not to do this. She’s starting to understand the word no.” “Oh she wasn’t hurting. My scalp could use a good massage.” “So you’re leaving Thursday, coming back on…Monday?” “That’s the plan.” “You ready for this?” Lauren heard the underlying question in the seriousness of Beth’s tone. She nodded. “I’ve been to see Dr. Butters.” Beth stopped mid-motion, Emily half-in, half-out of the swing she would outgrow in another few weeks. She looked over at Lauren. “The Army psych doc?” “Yep. We had a very good conversation yesterday.” Beth straightened and gave a satisfied smile. “It’s about time.” “I know. John asked me to go to the reenactment with him and I knew I had to deal with my PTSD before I could say yes.” Beth’s eyes narrowed. “You do realize one session with a therapist isn’t enough to cure what’s going on inside your head?” Lauren waved her hand in dismissal. “I know that, I’m not stupid.” She smiled. “But I am in love.” Beth shrieked and gave her a huge hug. “I was hoping I’d hear you say those words. I’m so happy for you, Lauren!” “It’s a weekend, Beth, not a marriage ceremony.” “But you love him.” She stopped as a thought occurred to her. “Does he love you back?” Lauren couldn’t stop the laugh and didn’t want to. “Beth, that’s so junior high!” “Well?” Her grin deepened. “Yes, he loves me back.” “Oh this is so great. I mean, going away for the weekend was good. You need it. A chance to go away with a gorgeous hunk of male? Even if he is dragging you to a pseudo war zone…” Beth stopped talking long enough to put the milk bottle she’d been preparing into the baby’s hands, who eagerly tipped it up and fed herself. Lauren took the chance to get a word in before Beth continued. “And I’m ready to face the ‘pseudo war zone’ as you call it. I know none of it is real.” If her friend had any further misgivings, she wisely kept them to herself. Giving Lauren another hug, she pointed to the garage. “Tent’s out there in a big blue rayon bag. Long and skinny. Go put it in your car.” “You’re the best. Thank you, Beth.”
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Both women understood Lauren thanked Beth for more than the loan of a sleeping bag and tent. With a playful swat, Beth sent her on her way and Lauren loaded up her car with a light heart.
***** Her good mood lasted all the way through packing her Army duffle, even though she had to stop once to deal with some unpleasant thoughts. Afterward she felt quite proud of herself. In the past, she simply would’ve shoved the bag back into the closet, put on some music to drown out her memories and fallen asleep on the living room sofa. This time, she sat back on her heels, letting the memory play. As if watching from a point of view that was both hers and not hers, the events unfolded before her…
~~~~~ She could feel the gritty nature of the air, from sand that never seemed to stay on the ground. Her shirt stuck to her back in the ever-present desert heat that surrounded the Humvee. The incredible brightness of a sun unfiltered by trees made her squint. And the sounds. She flinched when the explosion came as the truck in front of them blew apart into thousands of tiny shards. She braced herself on the dashboard as their Humvee stopped and was already half out the door before the driver had it in park. A small knoll of sand and rock jutted up about thirty feet from the road. She ran to it, hearing the feet of her fellow nurses behind her. They’d been on their way to Mosul, called in to help with a large number of casualties. They were a medical convoy with the bright red cross prominently marked. Why had they been attacked? They were there to help…
~~~~~ With a start, Lauren pulled herself back to the present. She’d been so young when that happened. In Iraq what? Six months? Maybe seven. They’d lost five people that day. Once it was determined to be an IED and not an RPG, they’d gotten back in their vehicles, detoured around the smoking remains of the front truck and continued on their way. Others would be by later to clean up. Right then their mission lay in Mosul. It had been a hard lesson to learn, but she’d learned it well, burying it along with all the other events she’d witnessed. Now she sat by the side of her bed and wept for the soldiers they’d lost that day. And when she was cried out, she dried her eyes, accepted their loss and looked out her window on the calm summer scene before her. Kids still played in the street and drivers still honked their horns at them. Life went on. She went on. With grim determination, she picked up a sweatshirt, folded it and tucked it inside her Army duffle bag. 127
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Chapter Fifteen “How long did you think we were going to be gone?” John asked her as he fitted the last of their gear into the back of his truck. “Four nights, five days. You said it was going to be huge and I hate waiting in long lines. So I brought enough food so we won’t need to go to the store and enough clothing to cover every contingency.” She eyed him. He’d dressed in simple jeans with a lightblue, button-down shirt over a deep blue T-shirt. She liked him in blue. Brought out the incredible deepness of his eyes. “It’s easier for guys. Jeans are now acceptable clothing nearly everywhere. And you can’t go wrong with a buttoned shirt. It’s like a uniform for you guys. But for women?” She gestured to her own casual attire, which consisted of a plain peach T-shirt with her paisley scarf tossed around her neck for style, a pair of slim-line jeans and flat sandals. “Where you can wear the same pair of jeans three days running, a woman would be highly suspect if she wore the same stuff over and over. And of course, different terrains mean different shoes…” He handed her into the car, shaking his head. For all her prattle about style, he knew only one of those bags contained the sundries and clothes she’d need for five days out. That meant she hadn’t skimped on the food. Good. He knew a lot of the men really went back in time and did all their cooking over a fire, slept in the thin wool blankets and heavy white canvas tents the way real Union Army had. He admired their dedication to re-creating a true living history that taught tourists more in an afternoon than they could get in a month of lectures in school. His desire to bring some of his experiences into the classroom next fall really went a long way toward explaining why he was here in the first place. But after several years living in the desert, often without running water and electricity, eating his meals out of a pouch and drinking water that had been shipped thousands of miles, he welcomed the roomy nylon tent and the cook stove. Camping in a campground was living in a mansion compared to what he’d been through. He climbed in beside her and they headed out. The drive would take them the better part of five hours. Glancing over at her, he was surprised when she pulled out a ball of yarn and a crochet hook. “Getting into the spirit of the weekend?” he asked her. “Keeping my hands busy,” she explained. “Something my grandmother taught me how to do to take up time on long family vacations. Said it would keep me out of trouble ’cause, instead of pestering my brother, my hands would be pestered with the yarn.” “Smart woman, your grandmother.” 128
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“Do you mind? I can talk and crochet at the same time. Just because my hands are busy doesn’t mean my mouth is quiet.” “Is that a warning?” She chuckled, her hands not missing a stitch. “It can be.” He turned onto the interstate that would take them along for the next three hours. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her glance at him. “Does it bother you? I can put it away if you find it distracting.” “It doesn’t distract me. Well, except in that I like seeing you like that.” “Like what?” “All settled in. Comfortable. Working away at an old craft as if sitting beside me on a long car ride were as normal as eating.” This time the hook did pause. “I didn’t think of it that way, but you’re right. I am comfortable. We have five hours together in the car and I’m not worried about holding up my end of the conversation, I’ve promised myself I’m not going to worry about IEDs, I’m not worried about directions, I’m not…wait. You did pick up the directions, right? You know where we’re going?” Now it was his turn to chuckle. “Yes, I know where we’re going. Studied the maps last night. Got the latitude and longitude and did the triangulation so I’d know exactly where…” He stopped when he realized she thought he was serious, this time laughing out loud. “Um, Lauren? You see that little gizmo there? Stuck to the windshield?” She bent toward him to see the screen from his point of view. The lines and numbers of the GPS not only directed his path but told him his present rate of speed and how much longer he had until they got there. “And you’re going to rely on that thing?” “Don’t tell me you’re really a Luddite in disguise.” She shook her head and sat back in her seat, her hook picking up where she’d left off. “No, not really. But those units are not as reliable as the manufacturers would like you to think they are. Give me an old-fashioned paper map where I can see the world spread out before me and make my own choices.” “I think maybe we just found our first fundamental difference.” She didn’t answer, only cocking an eyebrow at him as he wove between two tractor trailers going slowly up a hill. “Big picture versus looking at a piece at a time. I’m sure there’s a larger analogy there somewhere.” They bantered back and forth, learning more and more about each other as the miles sped by. The occasional silence slipped in, but not a silence of discomfort where one desperately sought for a topic to share or where one felt a need to turn on the radio to fill the quiet lest the other discover what an uninteresting person one really was.
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No, the spaces between the conversations were just that. Spaces. Punctuation marks that gave each a chance to trace down stray thoughts and notice the world that passed them by. Lauren set down her crocheting for longer periods of time as the scenery became less familiar and they passed into Pennsylvania. They stopped for lunch at a roadside diner, pleasantly surprised to find they both preferred the mom-and-pop fare rather than the national chain restaurants. Lauren indulged in a turkey club, John had a hamburger loaded with onions and she teased him about the onion breath he’d have for the rest of the afternoon. The miles slipped by once they were on the road again and soon the GPS had them turning off and into the busy local traffic of Sharpsburg. There the traffic slowed to a crawl. Narrow streets laid down long before the invention of the automobile confined the traffic. “I should’ve realized everything would be backed up with all the tourists and reenactors coming in for the weekend.” John sounded almost apologetic and Lauren hastened to reassure him. “It’s fine. I’ve never been here before and going slow gives me time to look around.” She pointed to one particular brick building sitting near the road. “Look at that. I did some reading before we came just to be up on the history. People lived in these buildings and war came to their doorstep.” “And sometimes inside their houses. The soldiers filled this place.” Lauren shook her head. “I’ve seen war in people’s homes. It’s never pretty.” She fell silent at that point, her thoughts thousands of miles away. In a hundred fifty years, would the people of Iraq be able to gather like this and commemorate battles? Probably not. Today’s armament didn’t leave many buildings standing—family homes or not. “Campground should be just a mile ahead.” Lauren glanced at the GPS, then started looking for signs. They’d passed out of the small town and Lauren shook her head. “Do you suppose they mind?” she asked. John glanced at her. “Who?” She waved her hand at the farmhouses. “The people who live here. They were invaded a hundred and fifty years ago and are now being invaded again.” “Believe it or not, there are fewer here now than then. And several people make their living off the tourists who come.” “Fewer? There must be thousands of people here right now.” “Lauren,” John’s voice, gentle and quiet, caught her attention. “On that one day, a hundred and fifty years ago, over twenty-three thousand men were killed, injured or went missing.” “Twenty-three thousand?” “I told you. It was the bloodiest day in any war, before or since, in America’s history.” 130
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Lauren tried to wrap her mind around that number, and failed miserably. She just couldn’t conceive that many dead bodies in one place. They’d have to be lying on top of each other, piled like cordwood. Who would keep moving forward to climb a hill of bodies? John made the turn into the campground and she shook her head to get rid of the macabre thoughts. She’d seen death, met it up close and personal. But that much of it? In one place at one time? It put her experiences into a very different perspective. “Will’s already got us a campsite. Let me text him and find out where we are.” John stopped near the check-in building for the campground and Lauren nodded to the little wooden building behind it. “I’m headed to the restroom. Won’t be long.” At his distracted nod, she climbed out of the truck, stretched her legs and went to answer nature’s call. True to her word, she didn’t take long and John grinned as he watched her saunter back to the truck. In her T-shirt and jeans, with her hair pulled into a ponytail, she could be just any normal beautiful woman walking along the dirt path. He grinned because she was his beautiful woman. She still noticed every detail around her, but she no longer tried to make herself small. In fact, she flung her arms out as she approached the car. “This is wonderful weather,” she announced through the open window as she grabbed for the door handle. “I could so easily live where it’s always in the midseventies.” “You don’t like the cold?” John put the truck in gear as she closed her door. “I think the desert changed me. I just got the tail end of this past winter and it was almost too much for me.” “Look for number forty-five.” He peered at one of the markers as he drove slowly past. “It’ll be on your side. I’ve even numbers over here.” “Should be a ways up yet.” The campground buzzed with activity. The place could be a village unto itself. Huge RVs filled some slots, collections of tents filled others and still more spaces held everything in between. Some men, already in uniform, tended cooking fires and John wondered what the soldiers of the past would think if they could see men sporting both blue and gray sharing the same cook fire and toasting each other with Bud Lights. “There it is, next one.” John looked where she pointed. A small RV sat on the lot next to number forty-five. The door opened and Will stepped down, waving them in. “Glad you made it,” Will called out as John backed the truck into the narrow opening between two trees.
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Their windows were still down and Will came over to lean on Lauren’s door as John turned off the engine. “Lauren, this reprobate is William Bondman. He’s the one who talked me into all this. Will, meet Lauren Carr.” “Girlfriend extraordinaire, or so rumor has it.” He put his hand in the window. “Nice to meet you, Lauren.” Stepping back, he opened her door before she could reply and reached out to hand her down. “If you can put up with Mr. Social Studies Teacher, you must be okay.” Lauren laughed at Will’s antics and John got a warm feeling in the middle of his chest. He got out of the truck and came around the back end to meet them. “Where’s Jill?” Will cocked his head toward the trailer. “Inside.” He turned to Lauren. “She’d come out to say hello, but she’s a bit tied up.” Will gave an over-large wink. John knew exactly what he meant. Cautiously, he watched Lauren’s face. She gave Will a puzzled look, then shrugged and reached for the bag with the tent. John hastened to give her a hand, mouthing the word “later” to his friend. Will burst out laughing. “I’ll leave you two to set up camp and I’ll give Jill a hand.” “Your friend seems nice,” Lauren told him as she helped get the tent out of the bag. “He is.” “Odd sense of humor though.” John didn’t say anything, suddenly wondering if this had been such a good idea. Maybe Lauren wasn’t ready for this. While he didn’t have any intentions of sharing her, or of doing anything with Will and his wife in a sexual manner this weekend, the possibility of a foursome someday had certainly crossed his mind. The tent went up easily enough and John was glad to see it was so large. He really hadn’t wanted to sleep with his feet out of a pup tent but then again, he didn’t want to sleep curled up in a ball because the nylon tent was too small either. No, the tent Lauren had borrowed from her friend could easily sleep several people and he could almost stand up straight in it. Not quite, not even at the peak, but there would be room enough inside for plenty of other movement. While Lauren got the sleeping bags, he pulled out his duffle bag and several coils of clothesline. She looked up from where she knelt inside the tent, unrolling the sleeping bags. He dropped the coils and she frowned. “That seems like overkill for hanging clothes.” “I brought other rope for that. This has a different use.” He smiled and waggled his eyebrows. “For me?” Her voice went up an octave and she looked out the tent’s unzipped windows. Clearing her throat, she lowered her voice and said it again. “For me?” “Yes, for you.” He knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms. “I’ve just driven several hundred miles with you beside me in the car, wanting you almost every one of
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those miles. I wasn’t going to come all that way without a way for us to enjoy ourselves once we got here.” “But…” Again she glanced up and out the windows. “I make noise.” “And I brought something to keep you quiet. Would you like to see what it is?” Wide-eyed, she nodded at him. He turned to the bag and unzipped it, then reached in to pull out a shiny roll of silver tape. He held it up for her to see. “You’re going to… I mean…that’s going over my…” “It is. Hold still.” “Now?” She leaned back. “But Will said he’d bring his wife over in a minute.” “No, that’s not what he said. Think.” “He said he was going to give Jill a hand.” John waited to see if she would figure it out. When she didn’t seem to understand, he repeated what Will had first told them. “Jill was tied up, remember. He went to give her a hand.” To illustrate, he held his hand out, fingers together, palm up as if he were going to hit something with it. Lauren looked at his hand, her brow furrowed. “Give her a hand… He was going to spank her?” At John’s nod, she looked shocked. “Go on,” he told her. “Chase it down all the way.” “He was going to spank her because…oh.” Her eyes grew wide. “OH!” “Now the light dawns,” John smiled at her and gave her a quick kiss. But between all that time beside her in the car and Lauren’s sudden revelation, the “quick kiss” became something more urgent. Her lips parted and sought his. Suddenly he couldn’t get enough of her. His hands wanted every inch, his tongue wanted entrance. When his tongue slid between her lips, she opened for him, leaning against him in her answering need. He slipped his hand down between her legs, pulling down the zipper on her jeans and sliding inside to push her panties up into her pussy. She moaned, her arms around his neck as she shifted and allowed him access. His fingers sneaked between the fabric and her skin, coming around to cup her ass with his hand. “You turn me into a puddle, Captain McAllen,” she murmured when their lips parted. His fingers plunged into the warm slit between her legs, fingering her clit and making her gasp. She rested her head on his shoulder as she shifted her weight onto one knee. His finger entered her and she cried out, a small sound she stifled by biting his shirt. “Do you want this?” he asked her, pressing upward with his hand. She nodded, nearly tearing his shirt in the process. “Then you have to let me help you keep quiet.” “Yes, please.” 133
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He removed his hand and she fell back on both knees, looking up at him in rueful accusation. “My glory, what you can do to me in the space of just a few seconds.” John held up the tape, a question in his eyes. She nodded. Tearing off a short section, he held it before her mouth. Lauren swallowed hard, then nodded again and he placed it carefully over her lips. Before she could move too much, he tore off a second strip and put it slightly over the first, then a third one covering the lower half that came just over her chin. “Speak,” he commanded her. She tried to, but only muffled, unintelligible sounds emerged. He smoothed back her hair. “Now I can do what I want and you can make as much noise as you want. Best of both worlds.” He redid her ponytail, her face pressed against his chest. He could feel her breath through his shirt. Although the temperature outside was in the seventies, inside the tent the air was noticeably warmer. John stripped off his shirt and pulled one of the hanks of white rope toward him. “Naked. In a tent. In the late afternoon.” He uncoiled the rope, watching her. “Erotic in and of itself, isn’t it?” She nodded and crossed her arms in front, grabbed the bottom of her T-shirt and pulled it off over her head. Underneath she wore a white lace bra, the underwires pushing her breasts up as if in offering. John accepted the offer, running the backs of his fingers over the lace until the nipples rose and grew hard. Only then did he set down the rope and slide the straps off her shoulders, reaching to unclasp the hooks and pull it away. He loved the way her breasts hung unencumbered. The large areola beckoned and he lifted the nearest to rub the nipple between his fingers. Gently pinching it, he watched her eyes. She stared at him until he pinched a little too hard, then she flinched in an unconscious movement at self-preservation. But he wasn’t letting her go quite that easily. He kept hold of her nipple, keeping an even pressure until her eyes came back to his. “In sex, I want to control you in all things.” He spoke softly, mindful of the thin walls. “Not only to tie you up, but to command you, to own you.” Lauren’s gaze remained steady. Taking her other nipple between his fingers, he increased the pressure on both. With her mouth bound, she couldn’t gasp yet her arousal had to go somewhere. When her eyes started to lose focus and a small moan came from the back of her throat, John knew his words had found home. Bending down, he lifted first one, then the other nipple to his mouth, giving each in turn a gentle kiss before letting them go and picking up the rope. Encircling her with the single length, he instructed her to raise her arms. When she did so, he brought it around the front and crisscrossed it over her breasts before looping back around and
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coming to the front to once more cross, this time coming up from under those magnificent globes, squeezing them ever so slightly. He tied the rope off behind her, pulling her toward him again to do so. She used her hands to steady herself against him and once more John marveled at her willingness. The words he’d spoken softly were only meant to set the mood, but as he looked into her eyes when he set her upright again, John realized she believed them fully. She gave herself to him entirely. He felt the responsibility, not as a burden heavy on his shoulders but as something to be celebrated. She was a precious jewel and needed his safeguarding. And, while some might see his binding of her as contrary to holding her as something to be treasured, to be cherished, he would argue—Don’t you keep something that valuable in a box, carefully wrapped for safekeeping? That was all he did now, moving behind her to bind her arms together. He circled the rope at three places along her arms—at her biceps, just under the elbow and at the wrist, before he tied her off with the ends of the rope. “I’m going to lay you facedown. Trust me and let me do the work.” She nodded and John took her shoulders, turning her so she would lie straight on the plump sleeping bags that Lauren had borrowed from her friend. Putting one arm across her shoulders, he put his other on her back and pushed her off-balance. Gently he laid her down, watching her turn her head so she could see what he would do next. Of course, her jeans had to go. Bound, helpless and naked, with only the thin nylon walls separating her from the busy comings and goings of the campground? He would bet even money that her panties were going to be damp from her arousal. She didn’t disappoint him. He held the flowered bikini briefs in his hand and grinned before tossing them onto the pile of her clothes in the corner. Picking up a second hank of clothesline, he untied it and played it out between his hands until he found the middle. But she wasn’t quite positioned the way he needed her. Her knees needed to be farther apart as he wanted full access to that delightful slit between her legs. “Let’s get you situated right,” he told her as he picked up each leg and splayed them for a better view. “Much better. Keep them there while I tie them in place.” She didn’t nod or moan or give him any other protest or approval but she also didn’t move her legs. He took that as permission and started at her ankle, looping the rope around several times to make a cuff before tying it off. Taking the other end of the rope, he did the same to her other ankle, then bent her legs back until her heels nearly touched her thighs. John was impressed. He certainly didn’t have that kind of stretch in him. But she made no protest and he saw no strain in her face. Sliding the middle of the rope under her bound hands, he brought it up and tied it off before sitting back on his heels to admire his handiwork. Too bad the tent had a nylon floor to it. Staking her knees to the ground would be a great finishing touch. 135
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“Knock, knock.” Will’s voice outside the tent startled Lauren more than it did John. He’d been very aware of the outside noises and had heard Will and Jill talking as they approached. Obviously Lauren had been in her own little world, right where John wanted her to be. At the sound of Will’s voice, however, her head came up in panic. He put his hand on her ass. “Be still. Trust me.” When she nodded, he rose and went to the tent flap, unzipping it and stepping through to greet his friends. Lauren’s heart beat fast as she listened to their conversation. “Jill, you’re looking beautiful as always.” She couldn’t tell, but she thought he gave her a kiss. “I’m afraid Lauren’s in the same predicament you were when we got here.” Her cheeks burned. How dare he? Lauren hadn’t, at first, understood that Will’s comment about his wife being tied up was meant to be taken literally, but those two would certainly understand what John meant. “Lucky her.” That was a female voice, soft and seductive. A blossom of jealousy budded in Lauren’s chest and she briefly struggled against her bindings, wanting to fight for her man. Then Will’s voice sounded and Lauren went still. “Perhaps we should tie them together one of these days. Watching women wiggle to get out of their bindings makes me hard every time.” He wouldn’t. John would never put her on display with another woman. Would he? Her breath caught as her imagination painted a vivid picture. Herself bound as she was now, open for strangers to see, another woman beside her, perhaps tied differently but no less tightly. Both of them squirming to get loose as men watched… She put her forehead down on the sleeping bag as her pussy throbbed with need. She was so busy with her own thoughts, she didn’t hear the next few exchanges. Then she heard John’s voice again, saying that they’d see them soon. Never. She’d never see them. How could she, with them knowing what was going on in this tent? Yes, she understood the two of them did the same thing in the privacy of their trailer, but that was different. John stepped back inside and she moaned her need. Damn, but she needed to come and come soon. He knelt beside her and she lifted her head in an attempt to see him better. Tied as she was, however, the effort didn’t achieve much. “Someday, if you want it, I will tie you naked before the two of them. And others perhaps. But you haven’t given me permission to go that far.” He bent closer and whispered in her ear, “And I’m not ready to share you just yet anyway.” Her pussy flooded and she squirmed on the sleeping bag, trying to communicate her desperation. His hand on her ass quieted her but she couldn’t hold back the
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whimper. If she had her voice, she’d debase herself and beg for release, her need had grown so great. And then his fingers were there, sliding along her pussy, spreading her juices and pressing against her clit. Mindful of the need for quiet—could they be listening? Were others? She tried to remain silent, but when the orgasm came, she didn’t even hear her own soft moans of satisfaction. When she finally opened her eyes, John lay beside her, his face only inches from hers. “So now we know you have a bit of the exhibitionist in you.” She could only raise an eyebrow at him and he explained, his arm rubbing across her shoulders. “I saw the look of panic on your face when you heard Will’s voice outside. I expected to come back in here and have to start all over again with you. I figured his interruption set us back a good ten minutes’ worth of foreplay.” His grin was lopsided and mirrored her own. Her lips might be stuck together, but her cheek muscles still worked just fine. “That wasn’t what I found though, was it? I found a horny slut ripe for the taking. A few strokes of my fingers and you flew off that edge so fast you broke the laws of gravity.” She chuckled, but with the tape, it came out only as a snort. He moved and she bent to see where he went. “Just going to untie you. This is a type of hogtie and it’s hard to maintain for long. I could feel the tension in your shoulders and I don’t want you to be too sore to play with later on.” Lauren stretched her legs out as he released them but noted he didn’t take the rope cuffs off. He left those and went straight to her arms. Actually, she was glad he did. Not having her legs stretching out her arms anymore allowed the muscles to relax. Her shoulders did ache and when her arms were free, she slowly lowered them to the ground as she flexed her biceps and tested where she might be sore. But nothing hurt like she was afraid it might and she pushed herself into a sitting position. The ropes crisscrossing her breasts had fallen loose and she helped John untangle the clothesline. Despite the warmth of the afternoon and the stuffiness of the tent, she shivered. “Here, put this over you.” John pulled a bath towel from his duffle bag and draped it over her shoulders. “A chill isn’t uncommon after what I just put your body through.” He wound the clothesline and picked up the second one to wind as she moved to sit cross-legged on the sleeping bag. A small tell-tale spot on the bag gave evidence to her recent arousal. They’d be taking these bags to the Laundromat before returning them. “Go ahead and peel off the tape. It’s better if you do it. Won’t hurt that way.” Lauren nodded and felt for the edges of the top piece. It pulled at her skin, but if she worked slowly, it didn’t hurt. Not much different than taking off a Band-Aid. A very large Band-Aid.
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She flexed her jaw once it was off and folded it, adhesive side in. When he came to sit beside her again, she took his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm. “Thank you for that. You have a way of giving me the most unique experiences.” “So it’s safe to say you don’t mind being tied up?” She laughed. “Yeah, that’s a safe bet to make.” She shook her head and looked up at him. The afternoon’s activities had dampened his hair at the temples and a sheen of sweat gleamed on his face. Fresh air would do them both good, but she had a question to ask first and the tent at least gave the illusion of privacy. “You said my reaction wasn’t what you expected. Were you…disappointed?” “No, not at all.” He took her other hand, his thumbs absently rubbing across their backs. “I just didn’t expect it.” “Because I’ve been so uptight about other things.” John shrugged. “You’ve a reason to be uptight about your experiences. I’m still a little concerned about tomorrow.” Lauren nodded. “I am too. What did you mean when you said I’m an exhibitionist? I was terrified they’d see me in here all trussed up like a turkey ready for the oven.” Understanding dawned in his eyes. “Ahhh. And yet you were nearly coming on your own from the very thought of them seeing you like that.” “Well, yeah, but…” “No buts about it. You’re not ready to actually do it—be shown in public. But the thought of being on display—that you find very tempting.” She blushed. “Yeah, I do. That must say something terrible about me.” She’d tilted her face down and he reached under her chin and pulled her it up to his. “Not something terrible, something honest.” “Oh?” “It says you are a woman with strong sexual fantasies who is truly coming to grips with the fact that she’s a sexual being. A very sexual being.” The towel had slipped unnoticed from her shoulders. Unnoticed until John pulled it back up to cover her. Protect her from a chill. Just as he’d protected her from his friend’s eyes. She liked the feeling of being cared for. Very much. “It’s not exactly a revelation, you know. I knew what I was doing. And I knew what I was getting into by coming away with you this weekend.” He didn’t say anything. All he did was bend down toward her. She lifted her face, sliding her arms around his waist as their lips met. Only then did she realize he still wore his jeans. “Hey,” she said, breaking the kiss. “You gave me a great orgasm and yet I haven’t returned the favor.” He laughed and bussed her nose with a small kiss. “Later. Right now, I’m hungry and I told Will and Jill we’d meet them for dinner.” 138
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The mention of food made Lauren’s stomach growl. “You’re on. I can do food.” Her stomach chimed in again and she laughed. “A lot of food.” John helped her dress, turning her clothes right-side-out. She gave her hair a onceover with his comb since her bag was still in the back of the truck and headed out to meet his friends.
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Chapter Sixteen Lauren blushed through the first five minutes of meeting Will and Jill. Knowing they were also involved in what Beth had called “BDSM activities” both made the friendship easier and harder. Easier because they had a common ground. Harder because Lauren didn’t like thinking about what other couples did in the bedroom. Even knowing Beth’s and Sarah’s predilections didn’t mean Lauren wanted to know about every detail. Having the knowledge that Jill had recently been tied and pleasured by her husband much the way she and John had been occupied almost crossed a line. Almost. “You don’t mind traipsing after the men and watching them out on the battlefield?” Jill asked her as Will flipped steaks on the small gas grill they’d brought along. “Let’s just say this is an experiment,” Lauren hedged. At Jill’s quizzical look, she explained. “John’s gone a long way toward convincing me this isn’t just men acting like boys who don’t want to grow up. I’m still not entirely convinced that the portrayal of war, minus the bullets and the cannonballs, brings home the horror of what war really is.” Jill handed her an iced tea. The coolness felt good in Lauren’s hand and she held the dripping glass to her forehead, allowing the condensation to wet her brow. Jill sat in the folding chair next to her and gestured with her own glass. “Those two know the reality. Will tells me stories sometimes. Not often. He keeps a lot of it in. They served together, you know.” Lauren shook her head. “I didn’t know. I just knew they’re good friends.” “Will and John were in the same unit but they each had their own men under them. I don’t think Phillip served with them.” At Lauren’s glance, she explained. “Phillip Townshend. Their roommate in college. The three of them still hang out together.” Lauren just looked over at her, feeling like she’d entered some sort of weird loop. “So you know Sarah and Phillip Townshend?” Jill nodded. “Do you know them?” She shook her head and accepted that all this had to be fate. “Sarah’s one of my oldest and best friends,” she told her. Jill sat up, grinning. “Really? She’s such a cool lady. I love her like a sister.” Another thought occurred to Lauren and her cheeks colored. “Then you know…about…” She couldn’t figure out how to say what she wanted to without betraying Sarah’s secret if Jill didn’t already know. Jill saved her. “About her being a slave? Oh yes. I know.” She gave a wicked grin. “Sarah and I are the same in that regard.” 140
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Lauren sat back, speechless. Yes, John had flat-out told her his friends practiced a little BDSM. But that they went as far as Phillip and Sarah did? She sent a glare in his direction that he’d withheld that little piece of information. John caught Lauren’s glare and raised his bottle of beer to her. She only shook her head and turned back to her conversation with Jill. John turned to Will. “I’m glad your wife and my girlfriend are getting along, but I think Jill’s telling stories on me.” “Isn’t that what all women do? Tell stories on their men?” “As long as they’re good stories, I don’t mind.” Will chuckled. “You ain’t got no say in good stories or bad ones, my friend. They’re gonna talk. Period. It’s our lot to simply accept, apologize and move on.” John turned back to the grill. “You need more lemon pepper on that one.” “Who’s cooking here?” “If you can’t season a steak right, I am.” Will handed him the tongs. “All right. You finish them off.” Grinning, John took the utensil, flipped the offending steak and added a liberal shake of the lemon pepper seasoning. Will just took a swig of his beer and gestured with his chin toward the two women. They sat in the shade of the RV’s awning, looking as if they’d been friends forever. “Think she’ll want to play together?” John glanced over his shoulder. “Someday. We haven’t done much yet. Just some simple scarves and rope ties. She likes the mind-fuck.” He grinned. “I like the mindfuck.” Will chuckled again and pushed John away from the grill. “Everyone likes the mind-fuck. Move. You’re going to burn them. Jill likes hers medium rare.” John relinquished the tongs. “I don’t think we’d ever go as far as you and Jill. Or Phillip and Sarah, for that matter.” “Don’t want her as a slave?” “I don’t think so. I mean, a temporary slave, yes. But twenty-four/seven?” He shook his head. “Well, you’re doing it right, introducing her to the lifestyle slowly. If she didn’t like it, she wouldn’t be here.” “Yeah, about that.” Will just waited and John continued. “I’m a little worried about tomorrow. When I asked her to come, we had a long talk about her PTSD and how this—” Will set down the tongs. “She has PTSD? And you brought her here? They’re going to be shooting off nearly a hundred cannon tomorrow. Continually. Can she handle that?” 141
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John looked over at Lauren, who was looking at Will and frowning. He raised his glass again and made a funny face at her. She smiled, but John could tell she’d overheard some of their conversation. “Keep your voice down,” he warned Will. “Yes, I brought her here. Her doctor thinks she can take it and I think she can too.” He gestured to the steaks, bringing Will’s attention to the grill. Fat dripped from one of the pieces of meat and the flames had sprung up, hungry for more. Will picked up the bottle of water beside the grill and doused the flames. When he turned back to John, his voice was quieter. “You know better than anyone how little things can trigger an episode, John. I’m going to tell Jill so she can keep watch.” John nodded. “That’s why I’m telling you. I don’t think anything will happen. But if it does, I’d appreciate Jill being there to help.” “You got it, my friend.” Will pulled the steaks onto a waiting platter. “And remember, if you need it, I’m here.” John smiled, but there was no mirth in his eyes. “Thank you. That means a lot.” Later, lying side by side in the zipped-together sleeping bags, Lauren snuggled close in John’s arms. “Had an interesting conversation with Jill tonight before supper,” she told him. “Oh?” “Seems you three guys from college all have the same…sexual tastes.” He pulled her closer. “Never really thought about it that way, but I guess you’re right.” “I still think it’s weird that Sarah’s my best friend and you and her husband are best friends.” “Will’s my best friend, Phillip was my mentor.” “There’s a difference?” She felt him shrug in the darkness. “Not really. The three of us would talk, but it was Phillip who actually went out and learned about the lifestyle. Will went right along. It took me a little longer.” “I’m glad you came around.” She paused. “To the lifestyle, that is.” “Aren’t you glad I came around you?” “Of course I am. That doesn’t even need to be said.” Lauren kissed his chest. “It’s almost like we were destined to be together.” “Phillip and Sarah, Will and Jill…” Lauren giggled. “What are you laughing at?” “Sorry. Their names give me a chuckle that’s all.” 142
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John smiled in the darkness. “Me too.” “John and Lauren also kind of go together. The open vowels, I mean.” “John and Lauren go together in more ways than just open vowels.” He kissed the top of her head where it rested on his shoulder. “I think so too.” Her hand slid down to his thigh, her touch soft and sensuous, yet with purpose behind it. John didn’t move, enjoying her explorations as her hand dipped between his legs, firmly gripping his muscles. “Very nice,” he told her. “I like feeling muscles move under skin and there’s beauty in the sight.” He took the hint and moved his leg toward her, her hand firmly holding the inner muscles of his thigh. “Mmmm…now that’s what I call sexy,” Lauren murmured as she stirred beside him. “There’s another set of muscles down there you might want to put your hand on,” he told her, his voice deepening as desire took over. “What? This?” She trailed her fingers up his leg to cup his balls. “These aren’t muscles,” she teased. He growled and shifted to move his cock into contact with her skin. “Ah, this!” Lauren’s fingers gripped him tightly. “Yes, these muscles are wonderful to feel. With my hand, with my throat, with my pussy.” She shifted and slid under him as he rolled over. “You are a tease, Lauren Carr.” “Yes, I am, John McAllen. Now come here where you belong.” She spread her legs beneath him, beckoning him in. But he was in charge here and he would enter, not at her bidding, but when he was good and ready. Problem was, his cock had a mind of its own and was ready now. Unzipping and shoving the sleeping bag off the two of them, he rolled onto his back. He held his cock upright, pointing at the tent peak like the mast of a sailing ship waiting for a sail. “Mount.” A simple command, meant to put her in her place. Or him in his place. He couldn’t see if she liked his tone or not, but she got up and stood over him, straddling one foot on either side of his hips. Coming down, she spread her pussy lips wide and his cock met her warmth. She rested a hand on his chest as she carefully lowered herself onto him. He thought she might tease and raise and lower herself, but apparently her need had grown with his command. A smooth, warm wetness enveloped his cock from tip to base. “Ride me.”
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He reached up and found her nipples. Taking each one between his fingers, he squeezed as she began a gentle rocking motion, her knees squeezing against his rib cage before she finally knelt on the sleeping bags to get a better angle. He let go of her nipples, mauling her breasts with his big hands and listening to her quiet whimpers. Those whimpers got to him every time. Her tempo increased and he knew their meaning. Dropping her breasts, he grabbed her ass and made her ride to his beat. Lauren’s breasts ached for his touch. They bounced her chest every time she rose and fell, pushing her need higher. His hands on her ass wouldn’t let her go faster and she was afraid she’d plateau and the tension in her pussy would fade. But then she realized it didn’t matter. She was here for him. Jill is a slave, she thought. So is Sarah. That means putting him before her. She moaned as she considered the implications. Faster now. She heard him groan in the darkness. Clenching her muscles around him, she squeezed as hard as she could even as she rode him. A grunt, another and then an explosive groan as he filled her pussy. Their tempo slowing, she squeezed him again, getting another groan out of him. Could she get a third? She waited until his movements stopped, then gave him another squeeze. Sure enough, he gasped and his body jerked upward. “No more,” he told her, his voice still deep. “Just stay there a bit.” She did, her hands resting on his chest and feeling his heart slowing a little with each breath. Finally, a good strong deep breath, let out with another explosive sigh and his cock slipped from her pussy. Quickly dismounting, she found the discarded sleeping bag and covered them both with it. Cupping his cock with her hand, she endeavored to keep him warm as he drifted off to sleep. “You are incredible,” he whispered in the darkness. “And so are you,” she whispered back. “I love you.” A thrill went though her and she placed a kiss on the muscles of his chest before whispering back, “I love you too. Good night, my love.” He didn’t answer and Lauren smiled. She hadn’t come but she’d given pleasure. There just might be something to this Dominance and submission thing. She certainly would have fun finding out.
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Chapter Seventeen Night still filled the tent when John shook her awake. “C’mon, sleepyhead. No rest for the Union Army. Or the Confederates, for that matter.” Blinking rapidly, Lauren took stock. Stretching her muscles showed only a little soreness from sleeping on the hard ground after the air mattress sprang a leak. John was already halfway into his uniform and Lauren watched him in the light of the small, battery-operated lantern he’d turned on. The play of his muscles never failed to fascinate her, but there was something oddly sexy about watching a man put on light wool pants then stand with his back to her as he buttoned the fly. Dimly she remembered finally bringing in her knapsack the night before and now she rooted around until she found the small bag that held her toiletries. Throwing on her T-shirt and jeans from the day before, she quickly set out fresh clothes for the day. “Nineteenth century today or not, I’m headed to the showers first.” Giving him a quick kiss, she headed out of the tent. Fog had come up during the night. Or was that come down? The white wisps drifted between the trees and the campers like the ghosts of those who’d died here a hundred fifty years earlier. Shaking her head at such a thought, Lauren quickly walked to the community bathrooms, grateful for the electric light that banished both fog and ghosts.
***** John finished dressing, checking his supply of gunpowder packets before slinging the leather case over his shoulder and settling the strap across his chest. His rifle, a defarbed Springfield, lay in its protective sheath. It had cost him a pretty penny to have it restored to its original workings, but the money was secondary. He slid it out, unwrapping it from the cloth that kept it looking like new, and inspected it in the light of the lantern. The rifle was just over four-and-a-half-feet long. The wood gleamed as if the weapon were brand-new and the metal shone brightly. The rifle was a work of deadly art and he would treasure it for both the sleek beauty of its appearance and for what it could do. This weapon deserved to be treated with respect. A trumpet sounded somewhere and John quickly packed up the rest of what he’d need for the day. The real battle had begun at daybreak all those years ago. Today’s battle would do the same. He stepped out of the tent, noting the fog with irony. Hadn’t that been part of the problem a hundred fifty years ago? The morning fog had been so dense soldiers could pass within ten feet of each other and not know their enemy was so close to hand.
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The view coming out of this morning fog, however, held much more pleasure than concern. Fresh from her quick shower, Lauren came hurrying down the dirt path to their campsite. “I was thinking I would miss you. The gathering call’s been put out. I have to go.” Lauren reached up to kiss him. “I’ll look for you on the battlefield, but in this fog, I doubt I’ll be able to tell which one is you.” “Got a token for me to wear?” Her eyes went serious. “I should’ve thought of that earlier.” Pulling out her T-shirt, she offered it to him. “I wore it all day yesterday. Maybe I should get you something nicer.” John took the T-shirt. It smelled of her perfume. “This is perfect.” He tucked it into his shirt and leaned forward to kiss her again. “Okay, enough already, you two.” Will came out of the fog and slapped John on the back. “We need to get into position.” “I know. Let’s go.” “Lauren, Jill’s packing a lunch for us. The hamper she has would hold a five-course dinner if you want to put yours and John’s lunch in with ours.” “Thanks, I will.” Soldiers of every rank with uniforms reflecting both sides streamed past their site on their way to the battlefield just over the ridge. The eastern sky had grown lighter as they talked and Lauren now gave John a last kiss before he turned and headed off to war. Lauren’s breath caught in her throat as she watched the two of them fade into the fog. Closing her eyes, she remembered too many other farewells of that sort and hated herself for equating this goodbye with those. Yet it felt the same. Pretend war or not, he was still in uniform, he still carried a gun and there would still be shooting and yelling and all the other stuff that went with battle. At least there wouldn’t be wounded. Stepping in a gopher hole couldn’t be considered a war wound. That was just clumsy. And that guy had done it after the battle was finished, so it didn’t count. Would someone trip, fall and need stitches today? Probably. People fell down in marathon runs and broke bones. But no bullet holes, no deep gashes where shrapnel had lacerated a leg. Lauren opened her eyes with determination shining from them. She had a lunch to pack.
***** “This looks like a good spot.”
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Twenty minutes after leaving John, Lauren stopped beside Jill as the latter dropped the lunch hamper and squinted down the hill. The fog had thinned and the half light of the approaching dawn made it difficult to see too far yet. Spectators were being kept well behind the battle. Lauren wondered if that should really be the case. If they wanted to know what it was like during the war, shouldn’t they be right down there in the middle of it instead of on the hill just behind a row of cannon? She’d never been to the real battlefield just a few miles away. Today’s reenactment would be held on a field in remembrance. The actual field, according to John, was too precious a treasure to sully with the damage their reenactment would do to the national park. They stood about thirty feet back and a little above a line of men manning the several dozen Union cannon and getting them ready to fire. Unlike the mock battle at the museum a few weeks ago, no announcer came out to narrate this battle. No civilities, no acknowledgement of the spectators as audience. The sun hadn’t yet made an appearance, although the heralds were all there. Between tufts of lifting fog, the last few stars winked one last time and disappeared as the birds began their morning songs. A faint breeze stirred the cornstalks in the field below her, their rustle soft in the early morning light. Off to her left, a cannon roared and Lauren jumped, her fists balling and her eyes raking the cornfield beyond. A puff of tell-tale smoke came from the center on the other side. Had the Confederates been the ones to start the action? Suddenly Lauren couldn’t remember anything she’d read about this blasted battle except that the cornfield had been a place of death and destruction. Between the multiple charges between the cornstalks and the constant cannon fire, both the men in the corn and the crop itself had been leveled by the end. How many men had gathered to re-create this fight today? Lauren swallowed hard as voices in front of her called out commands, “Ram!” “Sight the piece!” “Clear!” The gunner’s orders mingled and Lauren wondered how they knew which voice belonged to their crew. “Ready!” “Fire!” A cannon burst forth with noise and white smoke. And then, with no further ado, another, and another and another. The Union cannon answered the Confederate guns, volley for volley, and the battle had begun. She put her hands over her ears and Jill was beside her, not saying anything since there was nothing one could say in the face of such fury. But Jill stood there and Lauren nodded, taking deep breaths tainted with the taste of gunpowder. Bitter was the taste in her mouth and in her nose, and Lauren took another deep breath, the scent doing more to chase away her demons than anything else. Modern warfare smelled different than this. She could just make out a group of men picking their way between the rows of tall corn. Part of her wanted to shout, to warn them away from what she knew would
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happen. Clenching her fists, she watched as another cannon volley went off and scores of the foot soldiers fell to the ground. The sun rose to her left, illuminating a scene straight from Hieronymus Bosch. As the last tendrils of fog lifted, the sun shone on a peaceful summer morning. Stray wisps ascended to the heavens, slowly disappearing into the sky. Men screamed and fell to the earth as smoke from the cannon mingled with the dissipating fog. The cannon fired constantly. Lauren had prepared for the barrage and although her chest felt tight, no sign of panic reared its ugly head. Maybe Dr. Butters was right. PTSD wasn’t something that could be cured but it could be managed. And still the cannon rumbled. During the actual battle, it was said the thunder of the cannon could be heard nearly fifty miles away at Harper’s Ferry. Would they hear it there today? The hills took every bellow and amplified it, turning it back on itself to echo again and again and again. The air stung her eyes now as the breeze lifted the smoke. Others moved back but Lauren remained where she was, stubbornly refusing to give in. To move back was to let the war win. Jill was at her elbow, shouting something in her ear. But the cannon deafened her. She shook her head, unable to understand. Jill waved her hand in a never mind manner and stood beside her. Having John’s friend beside her made it easier to stand pat. Breathing shallowly because of the smoke, she peered through the gloom to look for John, knowing it to be futile. Gunfire punctuated the cannon’s roar as men in the corn started aiming and firing at each other. As before, the corn stalks provided less and less cover as the men crushed them with their passing. And their falling. Lauren gazed in sadness at the number of men already down. And more came on. From her left, a fresh troop of Union soldiers made their way between the cannon that fired over their heads and headed into the stalks. The slight rise of the land where she stood gave her a clear view of another troop, this one wearing Confederate gray, doing the same thing. The two sides met near the middle on the Union side. Shots were exchanged, bayonets “used” and not one of them came out of the cornfield. All went down, “killed” by either gunshot, bayonet, knife or cannon fire. Cannon that did not distinguish between friend and foe in this hell of a battle. She had to look elsewhere. The tightness in her chest was making it difficult to breathe. Or was it the smoke? No, that had drifted as the breeze changed direction. Instead of watching men die, she chose one of the cannon crew to watch, their graceful ballet of movement giving lie to their deadly actions. One man called out commands and each of the crew snapped into place, executing the commands with precision. The whole affair looked automated and Lauren wondered, if there were real mini balls flying at them, would they be so calm? 148
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The group next to them moved faster, the gunner in charge calling his commands with urgency. Lauren frowned as she watched. This group’s actions definitely looked sloppier. This group didn’t show the same grace, the same calm as the cannonneers on her left. They hurried their task, as if they wanted to get as many shots off as they could before…before what? Lunch? Lauren shook her head, reminding herself this was only playacting. No matter how into it some of these guys seemed to get, this wasn’t war. The reminder served to assuage some of the panic that kept her chest tight even as the noise continued to assail her senses. The deep bass of the cannon booms, the lighter tenor of the rifle pops, the mixed tones of the dead and dying. The hills multiplied every sound, sending the echoes back to join fresh concussions, fresh screams. She couldn’t stop watching the men around the cannon, comparing the two groups’ styles. Focusing on their technique helped her deal with the PTSD. Which manner would be more likely in a real battle? Probably the one on her right. Moving too fast, fighting the panic, wanting to run, wanting to knock the snot out of the enemy. She saw the accident happen. She was looking right at the man with the sponge on the end of his pole when he rammed it down the bore too quickly following the man who’d wormed out the barrel. She saw him step wrong, his body partly in front of the cannon’s mouth. He’d done it once before and she’d seen the commander warn him on it. But time didn’t allow for a second warning. The cannon fired again, sending the ramrod and the soldier’s arm sailing across the cornfield. He screamed and the moment froze in Lauren’s mind—the soldier behind the cannon, the lanyard still unattached to the vent hole, not yet ready to set for the next charge, the captain, his mouth open, ready to shout a warning that came too late, the others turning to look in horror, the man on the ground, a bloody stump where his arm used to be, writhing in pain. The scene shifted as time stood still. Sand blew in her eyes as she ran to the Jeep that had been blown upside down. A soldier in khaki, bleeding, his arm gone at the elbow, his face half obliterated… “Call an ambulance!” The shout brought her back and Lauren sprang into action, her eyes unblinking, half in one world, half in another. She called out orders as she ran to his side. Pointing at a civilian, she commanded, “Call 9-1-1.” To another, a man on horseback, she yelled, “Stop the battle.” One person had actually bent down to help the man, trying to hold him down by the shoulders to keep him still. Lauren called to the leader of the organized, still-calm, though shocked group of cannonneers. “I need something to make a tourniquet with. Belt, tie. Now!” He jumped into action and she bent over the wounded soldier to assess his condition. He was already in shock and she nodded at the man keeping him still. “We need to stop the bleeding before he loses too much blood.” 149
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Someone handed her a thick strip of cotton. The frayed ends showed it had been just torn off something. Lauren didn’t care what. There was precious little of the arm left to tie onto, but there would be enough. Cinching it shut, she called out for a stick and before the words were completely out of her mouth, someone slapped a short metal ramrod into her hand. Twisting with all her might, she cut off the flow of blood. The man lay silent now, and slowly Lauren realized the entire battlefield had gone quiet. “Check his vitals,” she told the man next to her, not even looking at him. “Pulse is irregular and thready.” Someone who knew medicine, she thought as her mind raced. Where was the damn ambulance? Sirens sounded in the distance as if in answer. “I need a blanket. We need to cover him and keep him warm.” From somewhere, a scratchy wool blanket settled down over him. “I’ll take over here.” A man’s hands came down and took hold of the ramrod, keeping the pressure up. Lauren let go, her shoulders aching from the effort. “Thank you.” She looked around. “Please, everyone…move back. He needs air and the ambulance has to get through.” The shocked crowd fell back several paces. Then fell back again as a young soldier came running toward her through the crowd, carrying the man’s arm as if it were simply a misplaced piece of equipment. He hurried over and set it down beside her, the white bone jaggedly sticking out, the end bloodied and dead. “Can you put it back on?” Lauren looked at him as if he’d gone insane. “Put it back on?” She started to laugh and heard the hysteria in her voice, but no longer had the urge to control it. She stood. “Put it back on? This is war, you idiot. This is what really happens.” John pushed his way through the crowd, shouting orders. “You on the hill, bring that cooler down here. We need ice. Lots of it.” He’d reached the young soldier and patted him on the back. “Good work. Wrap the arm and get it in the cooler with the ice.” Lauren snorted. “There’s no point. Too much damage. Too much blood loss.” “You don’t know that, Lauren. Let the doctors decide.” He reached for her, but she backed away, shaking her head. “You see what happens when boys play at being soldiers? People die in war. This,” she gestured at the ruined cornfield with a hand covered in blood, “isn’t war. This is a bunch of men dressing up and pretending to be soldiers.” She pointed to the wounded man. “But people die in war. They get hurt, they lose limbs. They die.” She was making a scene. She knew it. Her mouth, however, kept running away with her as her nerves needed an outlet. “You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, making a mockery of the real men who died in this war. They fought because they had to. Because their lives were at stake. You 150
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shoot off cannon and rifles with no bullets and fall down and pretend you’re dead.” She rounded on the man who could not hear her. “And you get so caught up in it, you find out what real war is, and…and…” She couldn’t go on. Her voice caught and her eyes filled with tears. “Lauren,” John put his hands on her shoulders. She shook them off and turned on him once more. “Go away, John. Just go away.” Turning, she fled into the crowd. John stood there, not stunned, not surprised even. Just sad. He’d seen her on the hill and watched her as he made his way back in his retreat from his unit’s foray onto the field. She’d been keeping it together. He even thought he’d seen her smile once or twice. And then the ramrod had gone flying across the field, followed by its grisly counterpart. How the wooden pole managed not to hit anyone was beyond him, but he’d felt grateful there was only one casualty from the man’s idiocy. Even as he turned to find her, she’d been moving toward the wounded cannonneer, slowly at first and then at a dead run. The crowd had closed in quickly though, and he’d had to push and bully his way through. The young man who’d brought the arm—that was what pushed her over the edge. If only he’d seen him coming and stopped him from reaching her, maybe he could’ve prevented Lauren from having such a public meltdown. Will came to stand beside him. Together they watched Lauren march away. Jill nodded to her husband and followed her. “This is certainly one hell of a way to start a day.” John nodded. The ambulance had arrived and the crowd was breaking up. While many still stayed to watch the paramedics do their work, others broke into clumps, discussing what they had and hadn’t seen. A reporter carrying a microphone hurried over to John and Will, cameraman in tow. “You seemed to be the focus of that woman’s anger. Can you tell us why?” The carefully manicured blonde stuck the microphone in John’s face. Tempted to swat it out of the way, he only stepped back. “No, I can’t. Please go away.” “Do you know her? Can you tell us her name?” John didn’t answer, only turned his back. When the reporter came around, the mic at her mouth to ask him another question, John marched off the field in the same direction as Lauren. Thankfully, the reporter didn’t follow. The paramedics lifted the gurney into the ambulance at that point and that was a much better image for the camera.
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“They’re calling the battle for the morning, John.” Will caught up to him. “Afternoon activities are still going on as planned though.” John shook his head. “I don’t know. Lauren’s not going to come back and I need to think.” But when they got to the campground, John still didn’t know what he was going to do. Jill called Will over and the two of them went inside their camper, giving John and Lauren the privacy they needed. With the entire campground still over at the battlefield, the two could shout and holler as much as they wanted. John stepped into the tent, seeing the sleeping bags neatly rolled and tied, his clothes from yesterday folded and beside his duffle, her knapsack and duffle bag packed and ready to go. She hefted the knapsack and picked up one of the bags. “I rolled both and then realized you’d need one for tonight. Unless you decide to sleep in Will’s RV.” “Lauren, you don’t have to leave.” “Yes, I do.” She pushed past him and into the sunshine. John followed and stood over her. “What happened this morning was an accident. Over a hundred cannon teams and ninety-nine of them were doing just fine.” “And one man who no longer has an arm. Statistically insignificant, you’re going to tell me?” “No.” He’d been about to reach for her, but he let his hands fall to his sides. “No, he’s not statistically insignificant. He’s a wounded soldier—” She made a noise of dismissal. “Soldier. Play soldier.” “Soldier,” he corrected. “These men go through a great deal of training before they’re allowed to participate in a national event. They might not operate modern machine guns, but that doesn’t make them any less soldiers.” He heard the anger growing in his voice and tried to bring it down a peg. “Lauren, it was an accident.” “I watched them, John.” Her voice, quiet and deadly, stayed calm and serious. “I watched them and they weren’t nearly as professional as the group beside them. They were sloppy and careless. He was sloppy and careless. He allowed himself to get caught up in the moment and he paid for it with his right arm. He might pay for it with his life.” “Men like that are the same in everything they do. He could’ve been painting his house and fallen off a ladder, or working on his car and forgotten to block the wheels.” She shook her head. “I can’t do this, John. I thought I could. Dr. Butters thought I could. I can’t.” “You did. And you did beautifully.” This time he did take her in his arms. She pushed out of them. “Don’t you see? I didn’t. I wasn’t working on that idiot who stood wrong and got his arm blown off. I was working on a soldier, a real soldier,
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who lost his arm when an IED exploded and flipped his Jeep. I was there. With the sun and the sand and the heat and the rockets falling. I wasn’t here, John…I was there.” “And yet—” “And yet nothing. I. Can’t. Do. This.” Jill came out of the RV, her concern written in every step. Lauren hefted the knapsack again. “Jill’s going to take me home. You two can stay here and do what you want. But I’m going home.” John stood there, fuming. She was running away again instead of facing her fears, instead of coming to grips with her demons. Before he could stop himself, the word slipped out. “Coward.” She turned, her eyes flashing. “You have no right to judge me, John McAllen.” “Don’t I? Goddamn it, Lauren, do you think you’re the only one who came home from Iraq with nightmares?” He lost his temper, letting her have it all. “I don’t watch around every corner anymore and I don’t jump at every noise. Why? Because I’ve worked my ass off confronting my past. Three years I’ve worked at it and you know what? I’m better now. I can point an unloaded gun in the general direction of a bunch of ‘play soldiers’, as you call them, and not see the ten-year-old boy I killed by accident in an ambush. I can hear the cannon roar and hear the sounds of the rifles in my ear without seeing his mother scream and hold his dying body. “But you go ahead. You run away from your nightmares, Lauren. Because you’re the only one who’s ever had a flashback, you’re the only one who can’t take it. I’ve got news for you, sweetheart. The world doesn’t stop spinning because you’re having trouble coping.” Tears streamed down Lauren’s face but he couldn’t stop. “Go home. You’re right. You don’t belong here.” For several heartbeats they stood, staring at each other, their relationship in tatters. Then Lauren turned and fled toward Will’s truck. Without another word, Jill got in, turned the key in the ignition and the two were gone. John didn’t even turn to watch them drive away. Will came to stand beside him, thinking he hadn’t seen his friend look so beaten since the two of them came home three years ago. “I’m sorry, John.” “I’m fucked up, Will.” Will nodded. “We all are, buddy. We all are.”
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Chapter Eighteen Lauren’s rant was all over the evening news. Beth called to see if she’d seen it. Sarah called immediately after. Lauren told them both she didn’t want to talk about it and hung up. The TV pundits were having a field day with her diatribe, asking if reenactments were safe, if they were, in fact, dishonoring the real war dead with their playacting. Lauren felt so ashamed. Although it was nearly nine o’clock, Lauren called Dr. Butters’ office. The answering service accepted the call and a kind female voice on the other end told her she would relay the message to Dr. Butters that this was urgent. She added that, if Lauren felt it a true emergency, the VA hospital’s emergency department was open. Lauren told her she only wanted to talk to Dr. Butters, thank you. She sat on the sofa in her darkened apartment, brooding over the day’s events. Had it really only been that morning? She remembered the sunrise and how peaceful everything had been. Then the cannon let loose and Hell slid in. The phone rang and she snatched it up. “Dr. Butters?” “I’m here, Lauren. I saw the news and hoped you’d be calling.” “I don’t know what to do.” “Can you come to the office?” “Yes.” “Meet me in a half an hour.” “Thank you.” She hung up but still sat in the dark, not quite ready to move. She could hide in the dark, keep the enemy at bay. The sunlight bared everything while its glare worked to blind you so you couldn’t see what was in plain sight. No, darkness was better. Standing, she walked to her curtains, staying to the side of the window and peering out. The sun had nearly set. Another few minutes and it would be dark enough for her to venture outside. Twilight wasn’t as good as nighttime, but was loads better than sunlight. Lauren made it to Dr. Butters’ office only five minutes late. Sitting in the car, she checked her surroundings, only getting out and hurrying into the building after taking several deep breaths to calm herself. A light was on in the office on the second floor and Lauren hurried toward it. Taking one more good, deep breath, she opened the door and stepped into the light, her
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eyes quickly assessing the room. Finding it empty except for the good doctor, she relaxed for the first time since making the phone call. “Tough day?” At fifty-five, Dr. Clifford Butters had seen it all. Or rather, thought he had. This was the first time he’d had a patient’s meltdown broadcast on national television. The reporter, a local who’d been sent out on a routine, cover-thereenactment-because-we-need-filler story, suddenly found herself covering a scene with huge implications. He could only wish the reporter’s career hadn’t been made on the back of his very nervous patient. “Sit down, Lauren. You know you’re safe here.” Lauren nodded and took the seat indicated. The office wasn’t huge, just big enough for his desk by the window, a set of bookcases along the wall and two comfortable leather chairs. She sat on the edge of one, looking like a scared bird ready to take flight if he said or did the wrong thing. “You want to tell me about it?” At first hesitatingly, then with increasing passion, Lauren poured out her heart. Her posture, at first controlled and erect, gradually relaxed as she told him of her love for John, of the kinky sex they had and of her mixed-up emotions about reenactments. When she would pause, he’d only ask a small question, but it would be enough to get her rolling again. For the first time since he’d been seeing her, he felt she was being completely honest, not only with him but with herself. When she ran out of steam, he asked another of those little questions that could lead to something big. “So, do you love this John McAllen or not?” Such a simple question. Straightforward. Lauren turned it over in her mind, trying several different answers until she found the only answer that fit. “Yes, I do.” Dr. Butters smiled at her and for the first time she smiled back. “What do you need to do to smooth it over with him?” “I need to apologize.” “How will you do that?” Lauren sighed. “He’s still at Sharpsburg, I suspect. Jill brought me home. Will can drive the RV home on Monday. John and I had planned to stay until then and come home with them.” “You could go back.” “No.” She shook her head. “That wouldn’t be wise on so many levels.” He grinned. “Good. I’m glad to hear you say that.” “I’ll wait until Monday night and call him then. I’ll apologize and…take it from there, I guess.” “And about your job search?” “I’m still looking. I can’t go into emergency care, that much I know.”
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He nodded and Lauren felt a flush of pride. She’d taken a huge step backward today. But she’d get better. She was determined. “Go get a good night’s sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.” The words were cliché, yet Lauren suspected they’d gotten to be that way only because they were true. Nodding, she thanked the doctor and said goodbye. She made it to her car by consciously deciding she wasn’t going to look around. She made it home double-checking the traffic at only every other stoplight. And she made it into her apartment without once looking over her shoulder. Life was hard, but she’d live it anyway. She was determined.
***** A knock on her door got her up earlier than she’d intended the next morning. When she didn’t move quickly enough, the knock repeated, louder. “Come on, Lauren, open up or me and Sarah are busting down this door.” Lauren threw the lock and unfastened the chain, yanking the door open before the two of them woke the whole building. Not only Beth and Sarah stood there, but Phillip as well, no doubt to be the muscle behind breaking her door in. Lauren poked her head out and, sure enough, Mrs. Boorman stood in her doorway, fists on her hips, looking disapproving. “Sorry, Mrs. Boorman,” Lauren called out. She grabbed Beth’s arm. “Get in here before you wake the entire apartment building!” Beth looked comfortable in sweatpants and a T-shirt but both Phillip and Sarah were dressed for church. Lauren eyed them a little guiltily. She hadn’t been to church in over a year. God wasn’t on her good side just now. “Have a seat and I’ll put on the water.” “That’s okay,” Sarah stopped her. “We just needed to make sure you’re okay.” Beth gave Lauren a hug. “That news report last night was terrible. Did you really tourniquet his stump?” “I did.” Lauren smiled a little, feeling a little proud of herself. She hadn’t allowed herself to relive those moments in the field except with Dr. Butters last night. “There’s a YouTube video showing you doing it. You were amazing.” Sarah gave her a hug as well, then stepped aside as Phillip came forward to offer his support. “Really? I’m on YouTube?” “Our own little star, right here. National TV yesterday, YouTube today, tomorrow…the world!” That made Lauren laugh out loud. “Damn, but I love you guys. You know just the right things to say.” “Well, we’re not staying,” Sarah informed her. “What I want to know is, how’s John?”
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Lauren shook her head and looked up at Phillip. “You’d probably know better than me. We had quite the argument.” “I’m afraid that was also broadcast,” he told her in his gentle voice. Lauren shook her head. “After that. Back at the campground. I came home. He stayed.” The three exchanged glances. Beth spoke first by what seemed mutual consent. “You want me to stay with you? I’m not going to church this morning and Paul’s looking after the baby, so…” Lauren shook her head. “No, I’m okay. Really. I went to see Dr. Butters last night and—” “You did?” Sarah interrupted to hug her again. “Oh honey, I’m so proud of you.” “Thanks. He just seemed the right person to talk to.” “Okay, we’re going to leave you but if you need anything…” “I know your number.” Lauren ushered them out the door. “I know,” Beth interrupted. “But I’m coming back later this afternoon to check on you anyway.” Lauren chuckled. “All right, Mom.” They made faces at each other and as Lauren shut the door, she smiled, glad to have friends who cared.
***** John drove home, the rain that had started to fall shortly after daybreak a perfect fit for his mood. He’d stayed the rest of the day but his heart wasn’t here. It had gone home with Lauren. What had possessed him to say such terrible things to her? The tent had been borrowed from one of her friends. It would provide the perfect excuse for him to go over to her apartment and apologize. In fact, he wouldn’t even stop at home. He’d go right over there and face the music. The resolve stayed with him right up until he entered the city limits. Maybe he should go home and shower first. His stomach growled. And have dinner. Wouldn’t he think better on a full stomach? The clock in the car read four-fifteen. His stomach spoke again and John knew hunger was only part of the reason. Chickening out, he pulled into his driveway. Gathering his things, he made a mad dash for the back door as the rain poured down. A shower. That’s what he needed after two days camping. A hot shower in his own bathroom. The phone rang almost as soon as the hot water hit his wide shoulders. Flipping off the water, he hurried out of the bath and down the short hall to his bedroom extension. Breathless, he answered, “Hello?”
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The automated voice that clicked in on the other end wasn’t Lauren’s. He hadn’t even realized that’s who he wanted it to be until it wasn’t her. He hung up on the sales pitch and headed back to drown his sorrows in the shower. He’d just dressed afterward when the knock sounded on the front door. He opened it to find Phillip standing in the rain. “Come in, I didn’t expect you.” Phillip stood in the entryway and shook his head. He’d let his hair grow since leaving the service, allowing the ends to touch his ear and collar. Water flew everywhere and John laughingly protested. “I just got out of the shower, thank you very much.” Phillip grinned. “And I just got off the phone with Will. He told me you’d come back today.” “Come on in. Let me take your coat.” “No, I’m not here to stay. Sarah’s in the car and we’re…playing tonight.” John knew what that meant. He’d been at Phillip’s wedding and had enjoyed seeing Sarah’s naked body spread before them. “I won’t keep you then.” “I saw Lauren this morning.” John tensed but said nothing. “You two belong together. Sarah and I won’t get involved any more than this but you need to know Lauren loves you.” “Did she tell you that?” “She didn’t need to.” John simply nodded, his demeanor still guarded and stiff. “Thanks, Phillip.” “We’re here if you need to talk.” John shook his head. “Lauren’s the one I need to talk to.” Phillip smiled in relief. “I’m glad you understand that. I’ll leave you to it then.” He turned to go out the door. “Have fun with Sarah tonight.” The grin Phillip gave him held a certain wicked mischievousness. “I intend to, old boy. I intend to.”
***** He didn’t call first, afraid she’d tell him she never wanted to see him again. Instead, John stood nervously at her door, taking several deep breaths before he raised his hand to knock. A door opened behind him and to his left. Glancing over, he wasn’t really surprised when Mrs. Boorman stood in her doorway. Putting on his most charming smile, he bowed in her direction.
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“Not me you have to be making up to,” she scolded, her accent showing traces of her middle European background. “She laid you out good on TV. Had good arguments too.” “Yes, she did, Mrs. Boorman. I’m hoping she’ll agree to see me.” For the first time, he saw the old lady smile. “She’ll see you. She has any brains, she’ll see you. But you should’a brought flowers.” With a sinking heart, John realized she was right. Corny, but right. “Is okay. You just have to talk faster. She’s a good girl and I like her. I like you too. You make pretty babies together.” He didn’t know about that but he nodded at her just the same and turned back to the door. Straightening his shoulders, he knocked twice. Behind him, the door squeaked closed but he didn’t hear the snick of it shutting. Mrs. Boorman might give them the illusion of privacy but she wasn’t about to miss the show. Lauren opened the door with a bounce and a smile that froze in place. “I thought you were Beth.” “I’m not. Would you rather I was?” She studied him a moment, then answered honestly. “I’m not sure on that one.” Lauren didn’t step aside and invite him in and John realized he was going to have to work for this. Conscious of Mrs. Boorman’s eyes staring holes into his back, he took her advice and talked faster. “Lauren, I said some stupid things and I want to apologize for them. I was out of line and—” “No, you weren’t.” He stopped, confused. “You said exactly what you needed to say, just as I did.” “I hurt you.” “Yes, you did.” Damn, she wasn’t making this easy on him. “Lauren, I’m sorry. I love you and I want to work this out.” Did he just hear a satisfied sigh behind him? If only the woman in front of him would be so understanding. Lauren held the door open a little wider. “I love you too, John. Come in.” John walked into the apartment, whirling to face her when she burst into laughter. “Oh John, I’m sorry. That was just too precious not to play out.” “You did that for her…for Mrs. Boorman!” She nodded. “Can you forgive me? She needed it.” John stood, dumbfounded. “So you’re not mad at me?”
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Lauren sobered and came over to him. “I was furious with you. But mostly I was mad at myself. For losing control.” She slid into his arms. “I love you. Took me awhile to remember that, but I did.” He held her close. “And I love you. I’m sorry I yelled at you.” She pulled away. “Don’t be. I deserved it. You were right. I was wallowing in my own PTSD. I probably will again. I’ll be okay as long as you’re there to remind me to stop taking myself so seriously.” “I will always be there for you, Lauren. I want to be in your life for a very, very long time.” Tears formed in her eyes and Lauren made no move to brush them aside. “I think we could arrange that, John McAllen.” The force of his love came out through the passion of his kiss. Her arms slipped around his neck. Whatever the future held for them, they would face it together.
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Epilogue The flogger landed softly across her raised ass and Lauren dropped her head in submission. The ball gag allowed her to moan softly as the suede thongs caressed her skin. With her arms stretched between her legs and attached to the spreader bar that kept her open, she couldn’t avoid the kiss of the leather and didn’t want to. She buried her face in the pillow on the floor as he carefully landed each stroke. There came a pause and she peeked out to see what he did. John had moved to straddle her, changing the angle the thongs landed on her body. Mostly he landed them against her ass and upper thighs but occasionally he let a soft stroke fall between her legs. The supple leather curled under and placed a stinging kiss on her sensitive nether lips. She knew if he did that a few more times, the leather would start to come back stained with the juices that evidenced her arousal. “Look at my little slave girl,” John’s voice crooned from above. “Dressed in leather and metal, spread and ready, allowing me to flog her body as I desire.” Lauren smiled around the rubber ball. She loved it when he played with her mind, setting the scene for her. “No one at school will know you have become my slave when we go home. It’s our little secret.” Lauren whimpered in the back of her throat. Getting a job as a school nurse had been the perfect solution for her skills. Dealing with PMS was far easier than dealing with gunshot wounds and blown-off arms. Getting a job in the same school where John worked had been a stroke of luck she still thanked God for. “Don’t tell me the slave is ready to come already?” A standing joke between them. Lauren was ready to come almost before they started. He had only to mention the toys upstairs in the spare room they’d turned into a dungeon of sorts and she was ready and willing. She made a positive noise in the back of her throat to signal that she was ready any time he was. He laughed and doubled both the strength and the speed of the blows against her ass and pussy. He loved the whimpers she made when she came while gagged. When he gave her her voice, she didn’t always let go as easily as when she was gagged. Even though little sound would escape this room, she still gave more of herself when she could holler to her heart’s content and not have to worry about the neighbors calling the police. So he often gagged her and let her whimper and moan her way to an orgasm. He could always take it out when he wanted to. 161
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Beneath him, her whimpers turned to grunts of pleasure as she came in time with his flogging. Only when the pitch started to drop did he let up, bringing her down slowly. At last she lay spent, her muscles relaxing once more into her bindings. Quickly he unfastened the quick-release catches and helped her to stand with her legs together. He removed the ball gag and she flexed her jaw. Wiping the drool with the back of her hand, she looked at him with contentment. “Thank you,” she murmured with a coquettish glance at the bed. “You are such a slut!” he told her as he picked her up and deposited her on the bed. “I know. I love it! You’ve made a free woman out of me.” He lay down beside her and she put her arms around his neck, the locks on her cuffs jingling in his ear. “And you’ve made a monster out of me.” “Eek, I’m so frightened! Is the monster going to get me?” He kissed her deeply, running his hands over her hips and feeling the wonderful curves of her body. “This monster is going to take what is rightfully his!” he told her as he pushed her body beneath his, kneeing her legs apart. She spread them wide even as she feigned horror. “Oh no!” “Oh yes!” Her pussy was warm and wet after its recent orgasm, slick and ready for his entrance. He pushed and she raised her hips to help him enter. He’d intended to tease himself with her pussy entrance, but she was so damn warm and inviting. “Oh yes,” he repeated, a very different tone in his voice. She brought her legs up and wrapped them around his waist. “Ride me, cowboy.” He cocked an eye at her. “I thought I was a monster.” “You’re monstrous big and you fill me. Now fuck me like the Dom you are.” There was no arguing with her logic, not with his cock starting to call the shots. He slid easily in and out, setting up a rhythm that swayed them both. His balls tightened, yet he held on to his control. His voice was rough when he spat out the words he needed to say. “I love you, Lauren McAllen.” “I love you, John McAllen.” Her voice sounded equally strangled and it pushed him over the edge. He looked at her as he came, glorying in the power she gave him, basking in the love they shared. And as he drifted into asleep afterward, his cock still buried inside her, she kissed the top of his head where it rested on her breasts. He sighed, deciding that lying with Lauren was far preferable to lying on scratchy grass with ants crawling up his sleeve. Her arms rested on his back, her fingers idly drawing small circles over his muscles. “Lauren,” he murmured, sounding almost asleep. “Yes?” 162
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Only a soft snore answered her. In the darkness, she smiled and kissed the top of his head once more, deciding it was high time she sent Chuck a thank-you note for stepping in a gopher hole so she could meet the man who made her whole.
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About the Author For many years, Diana Hunter confined herself to mainstream writing. Her interest in the world of dominance and submission, dormant for years, bloomed when she met a man who was willing to let her explore the submissive side of her personality. In her academic approach to learning about the lifestyle, she discovered hundreds of short stories that existed on the topic, but none of them seemed to express her view of a D/s relationship. Challenged by a friend to write a better one, she wrote her first BDSM novel, Secret Submission, published by Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
Diana welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
Tell Us What You Think We appreciate hearing reader opinions about our books. You can email us at
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Also by Diana Hunter A Devil in Winter Cabin Fever Diamond in the Snow Ellora’s Cavemen: Tales from the Temple III anthology Hooked Kara’s Captain Learning Curve Love in the Afternoon New York Moment Promise for Now Remembered Love Secret Submission Stitches in Time Stress Relief Submission Revealed Table for Four
Print books by Diana Hunter Cabin Fever Diamond Studs anthology Ellora’s Cavemen: Tales from the Temple III anthology Love and Learn anthology Getting What She Wants anthology Secret Submission Stress Relief Submission Revealed Table for Four Winter Studs anthology
Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.
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