MasterinMelbourne (2 page)

“Maybe you need a real vacation more than you need to do any
of those things. When’s the last time you’ve let yourself really relax?”

She stared at him blankly for a moment, and then closed her
eyes and pressed up against him. “Maybe you’re right.”

It took only six more minutes for the tram to come, but by
that time he had to wake her. When they got on, she fell right asleep again,
her head on his shoulder. She seemed to trust him, although maybe that was the
alcohol too.

When they got off, she was able to walk with him the block
to her hotel, although she was still shaky. She didn’t lean on him, and he was
surprised to find he missed that. He’d had plenty of female companionship
lately, although none of the women had snuggled against him while walking or
held hands. Instead there were scenes, with ropes, whips, clamps and other
toys. And plenty of sex.

He always enjoyed the cuddling afterward, and sometimes
breakfast together on the morning after. But that was as far as it ever went.
He hadn’t been aware something as simple as walking close was missing.

She’s a stranger. It doesn’t mean anything, except that
she’s had too much to drink.

“Help me to my room?” she asked.

He nodded. “Sure.”

Her hotel room was like a small apartment. It had a tiny
kitchen with a range top, sink, refrigerator, a quick-boil kettle and some
complimentary tea and sugar bags. Some attempt had been made to separate the
living room from the bedroom, and there was the usual small desk and chair,
neutral wallpaper and an uninspiring but inoffensive painting of flowers by a
pond.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she said. She walked quickly
through the bedroom and shut the door. He’d intended to leave her as soon as
he’d gotten her safely to her room, but he also wanted to say goodbye at least.

“I’ll make you a tea,” he yelled, and then immediately
remembered that Americans usually drank coffee.

“Great!” she yelled back. Tea it was. He filled the kettle
with cool water, turned it on and looked around. Her suitcase was sitting flat
near the door, unlatched, but he wasn’t about to snoop. There were a few
touristy things, brochures and such, on the coffee table, as well as a stuffed
penguin. And a drawing pad, flipped open to a half-completed drawing of a fairy
penguin. She hadn’t been totally uninspired, apparently. She’d captured it
beautifully, as good as any drawing in a bird book. He whistled.

The kettle clicked off and he rifled through the cabinets
above to come back with two plain cream-colored teacups. “Black or with milk,
sugar or no sugar?” he asked. There was no answer. She was probably still in
the loo. He plunked a bag in one of the cups, poured boiling water over it and
walked toward the bedroom. He didn’t want to shout again.

“Black or—” He rounded the separator to find her lying on
the bed, facedown, her head turned to one side. She was sleeping peacefully,
her back rising and falling in regular intervals. “Zoe?” he whispered softly.
But he knew sleep was what she needed. When she didn’t stir, he watched her for
a while, pretending to himself he just wanted to make sure she was okay and
wasn’t ogling her nicely rounded backside.

He wasn’t going to undress her for bed. He might wake her,
and he didn’t know her nearly well enough for that, as amusing as it was to
imagine. Besides, as drunk as she was, her clothes weren’t going to wake her.
But he was at least going to take her shoes and socks off.

Her sneakers came off easily. She twitched when he peeled
her white ankle socks off her feet, but she didn’t wake.

On the bottoms of her feet were scars. He looked closer.
They looked as if they were from burns, little rough circles as if someone had
put out cigarettes on the bottoms of her feet. He clenched his teeth. Who would
do such a thing? He remembered her gun-toting crazy ex, and wished the man
would walk in right now. He’d never know what hit him. But presumably the man
was fifteen thousand kilometers away.

“No. Don’t,” Zoe whimpered and rolled over.

He moved around the bed to her side, but she was still
asleep. “Hush, Zoe. You’re safe here. Just sleep.”

He watched her until her breath regained its regular
peacefulness. There was no point in standing guard over her, even though that
was precisely what he wanted to do. She’d probably sleep all night long, so she
wouldn’t be up to drink any tea. There was really no reason for him to stay,
but he wanted to know what her story was. At last he got up and returned to the
kitchen. He took a sip of tea—no sense in letting it go to waste entirely—and
then poured the rest down the sink. He rinsed the cup out, dried it with a
towel he found in one of the kitchen drawers and put the cups away.

He took out a business card and wrote the words “call me in
the morning” with his home phone number on the back, and left it writing-side
up on the little desk. There was no guarantee she’d see it, but it was worth a
try. Then, as quietly as possible, he left her hotel room and headed for
Indigo.

Chapter Two

Zoe stared at the card.
Nick Carrady. Nick Carrady
Football Camps. Fitness and Skills development, run by a former AFL
professional.
So she didn’t imagine him. Somehow he’d rescued her from
maudlin boredom in front of a slot machine and gotten her back to her hotel.
She vaguely remembered something about him planning to make tea for her and her
lying down, and not much after that. She was sure her imagination had added a
few wistful details; he couldn’t be that good-looking, that tall, that
well-built. Lots of people looked better after a few drinks.

My god, I invited him into my bed, didn’t I? Or practically
I did. What was I thinking? I have no tolerance for alcohol at all.
She
used to have a glass of wine before the “scenes” she’d do with Stu. Especially
if he was in a foul mood. It helped stop her from screaming, and he punished
her more when she screamed.

But it wasn’t just the alcohol. I haven’t had any sort of
sex since. And I miss it. I wanted some nice, safe vanilla sex, something to
take the edge off. Even kinky girls like vanilla sometimes.

She laughed. “I could call him, I suppose. Hey, I’m awake,
wanna fuck?” Right. She’d die of embarrassment. Besides, all the usual reasons
for not letting someone get intimate applied. She preferred her sex with an
edge, and yet the very thought of submitting to someone again made her shudder,
and she didn’t want to top either.
I’ll be damned if I let Stu ruin sex for
me forever, but right now, I can’t.

Still. I should call that guy. Nick.
She flipped over
the card, read the number on the other side and put it back down again.
Not
quite yet, though.
Maybe after her head settled, after she had a cup of
coffee. She started some brewing. Thank goodness the hotel got enough Americans
that they had a coffee machine. Although she supposed she could stand tea in
the morning, if she had to.

She looked at the travel brochures. The Old Melbourne Gaol
was supposed to be fantastic, but she still had trouble envisioning it being
fun. The zoo—she should definitely hit the zoo, but she’d feel she had to paint
if she went, and the way her head felt, there was no way she was going to do
any of that. She knew she was reinforcing the block in her mind that stopped
her from being creative, but that would burst someday, hopefully. Hopefully
before she had to be back at her secretarial job in Fort Worth. The state
library was an important visit for the family history research, but the idea of
sitting in an old building staring at musty books made her head throb. She much
preferred walking around, like she did when she’d gone to Ballarat two days
earlier.

Royal Botanic Gardens. That looked relaxing. And she’d bring
her watercolors and a block of watercolor paper, just in case. Flowers didn’t
move, which made them less stressful to paint. She smiled. A step forward.
I
can do this.

She sat down and sipped her coffee, looking over the brochure,
getting more excited about going the more she read. It sounded beautiful. She
enjoyed the bustle of the city, all steel and concrete and whatever they made
the slick black sidewalks out of. But green space was what she needed today.

Nick’s card stared up at her. She picked up the hotel phone
and dialed. It was a shame her cell didn’t work in Australia, but maybe it was
a good thing too. No one from home could bother her. Especially Stu. There’d
been an email from him in her inbox every day, but she didn’t have to check
email if she didn’t want to.

The phone rang twice before he picked up. “Hello.”

His voice sent a shiver down her spine. Sexy, low voice. It
was a lot like Stu’s, and yet because of his accent, it was different enough
that she wasn’t sure whether the shiver was from fear or pleasure, or both.
“Uh, hello. This is Zoe. I just wanted to thank you for last night.”

“You’re very welcome. It was my pleasure, really. How’s your
head this morning?”

“Bearable. Sorry for falling asleep on you.”

“No worries. You looked like you needed it.”

Such a nice, sweet man. Some men would have taken
advantage of me in my drunken state. Possibly most men. He’s really nice. Or he
thinks I’m ugly.

“Are you in the country long?”

“Just a few days yet, why?”

“I wanted to know what kind of date to ask you out on.”

“Listen, I don’t normally drink. If you think—”

“I’m responding to a hunch. Maybe I like girls who point out
that I’m not wearing a dinner jacket, first thing. Maybe I’m curious. And in
any case, you’ll probably turn me down.”

Turn him down? No, a date with a handsome stranger who she
might never see again sounded perfect. “So what kind of date did you wish to
ask me on?”

“There’s a place I go a few times a year called Indigo. It’s
not far from your hotel. It’s a fetish club.”

Her blood ran cold. The place in the ad. All her fantasies
and all her nightmares tied her tongue for a moment. Finally she said, “You’re
a Dom.”

“And you like the idea of being tied down. Or at least you
do when drunk. Would you like to find out how you react to it when you’re
sober?”

“I’ve been bound. Hundreds of times. Never again.”

“Then we won’t do that.” His voice was smooth but emphatic.
“I don’t want to do anything to you that you don’t want. You’ve had some really
bad experiences, haven’t you?”

In spades. Fucking mind reader. “Why do you say that?” she
riposted.

“Because I saw your feet. I’d never do that to you. Even if
you told me you liked that sort of thing, I’d never do that.”

“I don’t. I won’t.”
Although I once claimed I’d do anything
for my Master. Stupid me. Maybe that’s why Stu turned the way he did.
She
bit her lip.
No. It’s not my fault. No one made him do any of that stuff,
least of all me.

“Limits are good. If you’d prefer a quiet evening dinner, we
can do that instead. I know a nice Malaysian place.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes.” But he was still a
Dom. Having sex with someone might be just what the doctor ordered to blot out
the memory of Stu, but a Dom ought to be the last kind of person she wanted to
be with. And yet she was getting wet at the thought of a strong, dominant man.
Her nipples were tingling. Her skin felt extra sensitive and her pulse sped up.
“Maybe,” she amended. He was awfully good-looking. The image of him holding her
down flashed through her mind. Pulling her hair. She wanted it. But it scared
the daylights out of her. “No.”

“Yes, maybe, no?”

Her face felt warm. Thank god he couldn’t see her. “Sorry, I
have other plans,” she lied. “Anyway. Thank you for the save.” She put down the
receiver, wanting to spare herself any further embarrassment.

She grabbed the brochure for the gardens, packed her purse
with paints and paper, and walked to the door, wanting to act on her resolve.
She wasn’t going to check her email today. Yesterday Stu threatened her. Today
he would be apologetic, promising things would be better if she came back to
him. He’d gotten predictable. She opened the door and walked out. She dimly
heard a phone ring behind her, but she decided it must be in one of the other
rooms.

Zoe arranged the three paintings she had done that afternoon
on the desk, propped them against the wall and took several steps back. She’d
found any number of reasons not to do them, and she’d ignored them all. She’d
sat on wet grass and soaked her butt to capture the Tasman Flax-lily, with its
egg-shaped purple fruit. She’d had to lean against a tree for an hour to get
the perfect angle to capture the bell-like hanging flowers of the tall Kowhai
tree. And when she’d decided to rest in the relative comfort of a park bench,
she’d painted a landscape, capturing the Yarra River with the city blurrily
visible behind it.

She didn’t fancy herself to be very good at landscapes, and
yet that painting pleased her as much as the other two. It might even be
salable. Certainly she’d move the plant pictures eventually at an art show.
Working on commission was better, but Stu had never been sympathetic to her
deadlines, and her relationships with several publishers had suffered.
Hopefully now that she was in control of her own life, she could mend some
fences. In any case, painting again was a step forward.

She glanced at the newspaper on the coffee table,
remembering the ad for a “fetish weekend”. Was she ready to make that step?
Somehow what seemed impossible in the morning when she was on the phone seemed
well within her grasp now that she was feeling creative again. Accomplishment
was at least as good at making her feel bold as the alcohol had been. Maybe
Nick’s offer of Malaysian food and a date at Indigo was still available. She called
his number but got no answer.

I can go by myself. I don’t have to stay. I can just
watch. And maybe Nick will be there.
Her best friend Juanita had made her
pack a little black dress “just in case”. It wasn’t fetish wear but it would
do.

Juanita had been after her to start a new relationship for
months, but she hadn’t wanted to do anything that might push Stu over the edge.
If she started something in the BDSM community, he’d find out quickly. If she
dated someone vanilla, she didn’t think she’d get what she wanted out of a
relationship. Someday maybe she’d move, Stu would forget her, and she’d be able
to look for a Master who really cared about her. Someday, but not now.

In the meantime, however, what happened in Melbourne was
going to stay in Melbourne. She’d never been too excited about sex outside the
context of a relationship, but a single one-night stand wouldn’t be the end of
the world.
And I don’t have to do that. I can just hang out. I can see how I
feel when I’m there. I’m strong.

She grinned. There was a mirror to the right of the desk and
she caught a glimpse of her face in it. There were more lines than there once
were, but there was a hint of her younger self there too. Before Stu. She’d
been brave enough to explore her kinky side once, and she’d met a number of
people who seemed to have found the relationship of a lifetime.

She knew in her head that it could be safe with the right
partner. She had to convince her heart to be brave again. In Texas, it would
have been impossible, but here she could at least watch and dip her toe in the
water. Although if she met Nick, would he be willing to settle for watching and
dipping? Doms weren’t much on patience, in her limited experience.

She opened her suitcase, picked up the dress and set it on
the bed. First, a shower. Then food. Then the club, if she was still up to it.
After all, even going out in public in a little black dress was a step forward.

* * * * *

There was a pie place across the street from her hotel, and
she stopped there for a quick bite. Showering and doing her makeup had taken
longer than she expected. While she didn’t want to get to Indigo right when it
opened and might be close to empty, she didn’t want to be too tired either.

She’d opted to put a gray sweater that buttoned down the
front over the black dress, not wanting to expose her arms. There was a scar on
her right arm above her elbow and a burn on the inside of her left from wax.
The mark on her right, at least, wasn’t intentional. Stu didn’t care enough to
learn how to use a single tail properly. But he always needed the biggest and
baddest whip. Probably compensated for his dick size.

She wished she could say that to his face.

When she’d encountered the pie restaurant on her first day
in Melbourne, she anticipated a scrumptious dessert. What she had in mind, she
was told, was called a fruit pie. A “pie” was something else entirely, a
savory, juicy concoction filled with meat and spices. She’d been back twice
since. It was quick, tasty and filling.

Instinctively she turned right, toward her hotel, already
thinking of it as home. But Indigo was the other way. She stopped, surprising
the man behind her, who jostled her into the wall of the bank building next to
the pie place. “Sorry about that,” he said, but kept going.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said to his retreating back, too
softly to be heard as she rubbed her arm. People had been very nice to her so
far, but she supposed there were a few rude people everywhere. “Asshole.”

I’m not going to let the likes of him stand in my way
ever again.
She set her jaw and marched off to Indigo, her high heels
clacking on the black sidewalk. She hadn’t worn heels for a while, in part
because Stu used to insist on it, but it gave her a feeling of confidence
tonight to be up higher. She’d done a lot of walking earlier in the day too,
and it felt nice to have the pressure on her toes rather than her soles,
although that would change as the night wore on, she suspected. Still, for two
blocks, it was nice. And she hadn’t allowed herself to feel sexy for a long
time.

There was a sign out front of the club announcing that
Indigo was in the basement. The ground floor was an Italian restaurant, and
there were apartments above that. A neon arrow on the wall tempered the
stairway’s darkness, and she made her way down, holding on to an old iron rail.
She hated going downstairs in heels, but she wasn’t going to turn back on
account of that. Pounding music came from ahead, heavy bass mixed with ethereal
vocals. At the bottom of the stairs stood a man nearly as big as Nick. He stood
to the side so she could easily get past him.

“What’s the cover?” she asked.

“Twelve dollars.”

She’d been to a place once where ladies were admitted free,
which seemed like a great policy until she realized that was because there was
a dearth of women and a surplus of horny guys who needed to be taught manners.
She happily handed him a ten-dollar bill and a two-dollar coin from her little
purse.