A Natural Born Submissive (2 page)

Alice almost laughed out loud at the idea of someone like her wondering what to wear to a BDSM club.  As a shy, quiet introvert, how did she get herself into this situation?  She couldn't blame professional curiosity for this one; down deep she knew she'd been drawn to the story on a personal level.

But even as she cursed herself for what she'd gotten into, she was glad she had the power to pick and choose assignments.  Years ago, when she'd started as a go-fer to the station manager, she never would have dreamed that she'd eventually become executive producer of the best-rated program in the 10 p.m. time slot of their local market.

Part of the success that she and host Katt Templeton enjoyed with their show came from the controversial topics they explored.  They had seen their first boost when they'd featured a polygamist matchmaking service.  Then they'd done a feature on a lesbian prom.  The BDSM club piece seemed like a logical selection for their next story if they were to remain on top.

Alice dialed Katt as she pulled into the driveway of her house.  "I just left that club."

"Which one?" Katt asked, sounding distracted.  Wherever she was, it was very noisy.

"The BDSM one.  They suggested we come back tonight and watch the action, see if we can use it.  Are you up for it?"

"Sorry babe, I'm in L.A., remember?"

"Oh yeah, for Pride."  Alice nibbled her thumbnail as a wave of anxiety hit.

"You're on your own with this one."

"But I'm undecided about this, Katt," she said, suddenly feeling less certain. Going back to face Victor Priest would be a lot harder without the security of her friend and co-worker's company. " I'm not sure whether to go with this segment or not. Maybe I just won't go back."

"I don't understand what the problem is, Allie.  It sounds like just our type of programming.  Sign 'em up!"

Alice stared at the phone as the connection went dead.  Her heart sunk as she pounded the heel of her hand down on the steering wheel.  She was going to have to go back there alone.  And the room would probably be filled with men just like Victor.

She ran through the mental list of her friends, wondering whom she could coax into accompanying her.  Since her divorce, most of her married friends had already pulled away from her, as if her singleness was some sort of illness they could catch.  The idea of asking any of them to accompany her to a BDSM club suddenly seemed preposterous, and it occurred to her that now that she was single and had new worlds to explore, it was clearly time to make new friends.

Alice walked in the house to the sound of her landline ringing.  She picked it up without checking to see who it was first and groaned inwardly when she recognized her ex's number on the caller ID.

"Yes, Ray, what do you want?"

"I wanted to drive up and see the girls this weekend and didn't know if they'd be busy, so I thought I'd ask you."

Alice sighed.  "I don't know if it will be OK, she said.  "I don't know their schedules.  You'll need to ask them yourself.  They are both eighteen, now, you know.  You don't have to run these things past me anymore."

Ray's next comment was predictable.  "I don't suppose you'd go up with me to see them.  I tried to call you earlier but couldn't reach you on your old number.  It was disconnected."

"I can't, Ray.  And I got rid of my old phone.  I only use my business cell now, and I'm not taking personal calls, not for anyone, not even an ex-husband."  She put extra emphasis on the
ex
, to remind Ray that it was over.

"OK.  Fine."  Ray sounded sad, defeated, and Alice's tone softened.  It was not her intention to be cruel, but she needed for him to understand that while they still had kids together, they no longer had a marriage.

"I'm sure we'll see each other over the holidays," she said.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Look.  I've got to go.  Just call the girls."  Alice hung up the phone and put her face in her hands before bringing them up to run them wearily through her hair.  When she looked up, she saw her mother enter the room.

"Women over thirty-five shouldn't wear their hair long," her mother reminded her as she walked past again, a cup of coffee in her hand.

"Times have changed, Mom," she said.  "Women over thirty-five are wearing long hair here in the twenty first century."

"Don't be sassy with me, Missy" her mother called.  Alice caught herself rolling her eyes at her mother's retreating back.  It wasn't bad enough that at the age of forty-five she was once again living in her childhood home with her mother; now she was reverting to childish behavior.  Here she was, newly divorced and an empty-nester, juggling a job, the demands of two college-aged students, and a widowed mother who welcomed and needed her company.

But some days it was hard, especially now that her mother had taken to treating her like a rebellious teen.  Sometimes Alice felt like one, both in spirit and in body.  Her weekly yoga classes kept her in excellent shape.

"Was that Ray?" her mother asked.  "What did he want?"

Alice cringed; her mother knew she'd been talking to her ex.  She'd probably been eavesdropping.

"You know who it was."  Alice stood up to leave the room.

"Where are you going?" her Mom asked as she headed for the stairs.

 "I've got to shower and wash my hair.  I'm going out tonight." She could hear her mother huffing behind her as she bent down to take off her high heels and carry them up.  When Alice was halfway up the stairs, she turned back.  "What?" she asked.

"You shouldn't leave me alone so much, you know," her mother pouted.  "I'm elderly.  What if I fell and broke something?"

Alice shook her head and started back up the stairs.  "Mom, you're only sixty-five, and you do Zumba three nights a week.  You're hardly 'elderly'.  Remind me, and we'll have this discussion again twenty years from now."

She stopped at the top and called down, "Besides, the last time I planned to stay home to spend the evening with you, you and your friends went to the casino to play Bingo!"

She missed her mother's response as she headed into the bathroom, quickly stripping down and then turning on the shower.  Before climbing in, Alice took in her reflection in the mirror.  Even at forty-five, Alice still looked good.  Her skin was still smooth, with a healthy glow.  Her hair was thick and glossy.  She climbed in the shower, knowing she could take her time.  It was early, and most clubs never really got going until after 10 pm.  There would be plenty of time to eat, watch a little TV, and maybe even take a nap.

She gratefully enveloped herself in the warm shower spray and then laughed aloud at a crazy thought — that perhaps she could bring her mother to the club.  Her mom was the most unflappable person she knew.  Alice could always tell her mother anything without fear that she'd react with shock or anger. But she knew it would not only be unprofessional — but downright weird — to bring her mother to The Beaten Path.

Alice ran her fingers down her body through the soapsuds.  She had lost twenty-five pounds from the stress of the divorce, putting her back at her high school weight of 125.  In fact, she thought her body was perhaps as good as it was back then.  Her abdomen was pleasingly taut, even if her breasts were now heavier and hung lower than they had back then.

After getting out of the shower and drying off, she critiqued herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror on her closet door.  A tall, slender woman looked back at her.  She pulled the towel away and tried to look at herself through the eyes of a man.  Could she do it?  Could she get naked in front of a stranger?  If she was even remotely ready for such a thing, she supposed she could.  She was slender but far from fit, soft in places where she should be hard.  All in all, her reflection wasn't too bad, but she made a mental note to renew her gym membership.

After drying her hair, Alice began to search through her closet for her black separates.  She pulled out her new skinny black jeans and a T-shirt.  Nope, too casual.  Then she remembered a dressy black top with long sleeves and black lace insets.  She usually wore it with its matching skirt, but it might work when paired with the jeans.  She pulled it on, wondering if its high collar was too modest.  Some cleavage would definitely bring this outfit into the realm of club wear.  She unbuttoned her first two buttons and then shrugged and unbuttoned two more.  Oh yes.  Much better.  A pair of dangly earrings and high spiky heels and that was it.  She was ready.

Chapter Two

When Alice finally came back downstairs, she found a note from her mother taped to the refrigerator.  "Bingo!" it said, and Alice smiled, knowing her busy mother was not only telling her where she was but that she planned to win.  Her mother's eternal optimism was another thing that Alice found so endearing.

She fixed a light snack, not wanting to go to the club on an empty stomach, in case she decided to have a drink. At 9:30, she decided it was time to head back to the club.

She grinned as she drove down the street, wondering if she should have left a note for her mom.  What on earth would it say—'BDSM'?  She could just hear her mother: 
What does BDSM stand for, dear?
  And her response:
Bondage, discipline, and sadomasochism, Mom
.

It would be a crazy note to leave, but what she was doing was just as crazy.  She reminded herself that this was for work and continued on.

Her mind strayed to Victor.  He was certainly attractive, and she wondered for a moment what it would be like to be in a relationship with someone like him.  Not that she was ready for another relationship.  Even if she was, a man who worked in a BDSM club probably had kinky women throwing themselves at him all the time.  On the other hand, perhaps that's what she needed—just some no-strings-attached fun.

The huge house that housed the club was at the end of Montgomery Drive.  As she drove through the gates, she was struck by how imposing the Tudor-style mansion seemed at night.  It was nearly 10 p.m. when she pulled into the parking lot.  She decided to sit in her car for a while and observe the types of people who walked in.

A couple exited a nearby car and walked towards the house, holding hands.  The woman was voluptuous, the man older.  They looked rather ordinary, not quite what she was expecting.  But what was she expecting?  She continued to watch as two men headed to the door, and then two women.  There were no single women going into the club, or single guys that she could see.  Alice began to get nervous.  She didn't want to be the only single person.  The idea of sticking out like a sore thumb at a place called The Beaten Path suddenly seemed like a bad idea.  A litany of excuses she planned to offer Victor Priest ran through her head as she put the key back in the ignition.

The sound of a knock on her window caused her to suddenly startle, and she looked up to see Victor staring into the car.  His eyes were stern, and her stomach flipped nervously.

Get a grip!  He was expecting you!
Her inner scold was practically yelling when she finally forced herself to exit the car.

"Is everything all right, Miss Chappelle?"  His deep voice was edged with concern. 

"Yes, I—I—I …" What was it about this man that was causing her to develop a stammer like a nervous schoolgirl?  "I was about to make a phone call."  Yeah, yeah, that sounded good, "but it can wait."

Alice squared her shoulders and looked at Victor.  In the moonlight, he looked even more surreally handsome than he had in the club that afternoon.  He leaned forward and once again kissed her on each cheek.  This time she knew what was coming and accepted the courtly greeting gracefully.

"Where I come from, this is how we also say hello."

Alice smiled delightedly.  He had made a joke.  She turned and resolutely started towards the entrance, too shy to look back at Victor.  When she felt a tug, she stopped and turned back, surprised.

"That's the performers' entrance, Alice," he said. "Please come around to the front."

Performers' entrance?  The couple and the young people were performers?  No wonder she'd not been greeted when she'd wandered into the club that afternoon; she had come in through the back entrance.  As he led her towards the front of the building, she looked back over her shoulder.  Now an extremely tall, extremely slender young black gentleman was walking towards the performers entrance.  Were her eyes playing tricks on her or was he wearing high heels?  Before she could look back, Victor had guided her around the corner and into the front of the establishment.

The inside of The Beaten Path was reminiscent of an English gentleman's club.  The ceilings were high, and the walls were dark green, with mahogany wainscoting. Heavy red velvet drapes adorned the leaded windows.  Victor led her to a small table, where he graciously pulled out a chair so she could sit.  A black-clad young waiter appeared and placed a drink in front of her.

"What is this?" April asked, eyeing the blood-red concoction in the martini glass.

"A Vampire's Kiss," Victor replied.  Alice looked at him and flushed.  Was he kidding?  He didn't appear to be.  But it looked intriguing, so she sipped it carefully.

The drink was sweet and slid down her throat easily—perhaps too easily.  Before she knew it, the glass was empty, but another quickly took its place. Alice rarely had more than one drink when she went out, but this one didn't taste strongly of alcohol, so she didn't see the harm in indulging.  As she sipped her beverage, she watched Victor carefully as he greeted various arrivals.  He was wearing all black now—leather pants and a long-sleeved black shirt.  She noticed that he didn't kiss any of the people he was greeting as he had done with her.  Soon he was again standing beside her.

"Mr. Priest," she started.

"Victor," he corrected her.  The club was still a little quiet.

"When does the action really start around here, Victor?"

"Very soon, my dear.  Where is Miss Templeton?  I thought she'd be accompanying you this evening."

"She's in L.A. for Pride and couldn't make it."

"Ahhhh," he said, nodding.  "It was very brave of you to come alone."