She still had enough money from the cash Jessica and the other keyholders had insisted she take to live for several months on her own without working, even in Manhattan. She felt ready to reclaim some semblance of normalcy, which included striking out on her own once more. It was possible, she recognized, that until she moved out of Jack’s place, he wasn’t going to be able to view her as more than some wounded animal he’d rescued, someone out of bounds when it came to relationship potential.
Eva wiped her hands nervously on her apron and poured a glass from the bottle of chilled white wine she’d opened for the meal. The smell of roasting chicken and potatoes wafted tantalizingly from the oven. Carrying her wineglass, Eva went into her small bedroom area and selected the very sexy new bra and panty set she’d bought for the occasion.
After a quick shower, she applied minimal makeup and put on the new underwear. She slipped on a sleeveless, royal blue silk top, which was cut low enough to show what cleavage she had, and stepped into the long, flowing skirt, leaving her feet bare. Eva gave a last glance in the mirror and smiled, though her heart was fluttering nervously. “It’s show time, folks,” she said with a grin and a toss of hair that was no longer there.
The chicken was ready, the rolls were warmed and waiting in their basket, the butter, salt and pepper on the table. Long, tapered candles sat in pretty ceramic holders she’d found at an outdoor market earlier in the week. Eva was just finishing the green beans when Jack buzzed from below, as he always did when he came home, just to let her know he was on his way up.
“Hmm, something smells fantastic,” he enthused as he entered the loft. He stopped abruptly and stared at Eva. “Wow,” he said, his eyes moving with obvious appreciation over her. “You look really nice, Eva.”
“Thank you,” she said, suddenly shy from this rare praise.
“Look what I have.” He brought the hand he’d held behind his back forward to reveal a bouquet of brightly colored flowers wrapped in green tissue paper.
They were not exactly the red roses of romance, but still Eva was delighted. “They’re beautiful!” she exclaimed.
“My contribution to the meal,” he said with a satisfied smile. “I even have a vase somewhere in the kitchen cabinets.” He hadn’t said, “These are for you,” but Eva told herself not to read too much into that. Men were clueless sometimes, and had to be led along the labyrinth of romance.
The vase retrieved, the flowers settled on the table and the candles lit, they sat down to the meal. Jack was excited about the seminar he was teaching to fine arts grad students at NYU, and as they ate, Eva tried to focus on what he was saying, instead of her own nerves.
The food had come out better than she could have hoped, and when they’d both eaten their fill, she began to clear the table, refusing to let Jack help. “I’m serving you tonight, Sir,” she said airily, though calling him Sir sent a ripple of excitement through her nerve endings. “If you’ll wait in the living area, I’ll be right out with dessert.”
Jack protested, but not too much. With a laugh, he settled himself on the sofa and began to leaf through the art magazine he’d brought home. Eva hurriedly finished clearing the table and dumped the dishes in the sink. She would clean up later. “Oh my god, am I really going to do this?” she whispered. She lifted her hand to her mouth and started to tug on a cuticle, but caught herself in time. She no longer did that, she reminded herself. She was cool, calm and collected.
She closed her eyes and focused for several moments on her breathing, letting her mind empty of its clutter. She willed the tension to ease out of her muscles. “Grace, courage, submission,” she murmured as she slipped out of the skirt and pulled her top over her head. She glanced down at her breasts, small but presented to their best advantage in the sexy black push-up bra. Her nipples were perking in anticipation against the sheer lace of the demi-cups.
“Grace, courage, submission,” she mouthed as she stepped silently into the dining area. The sofa where Jack sat was angled so his back was to her, which was perfect for her plans. Taking a deep breath, she knelt on the throw rug beside the table, knees spread, back straight, fingers laced at her neck, the very picture of submissive grace.
“Dessert is ready,” she called softly.
Jack stood and turned, his smile faltering as he took in her pose. “Eva,” he said hoarsely. Clearing his throat, he added, “What are you doing?”
Not the most encouraging response, but Eva soldiered on. “I am offering myself to you, Sir. I am offering the gift of my submission.”
Jack stood as if frozen, while Eva’s heart clutched in her chest.
“Oh, Eva,” he finally said, his face crumpling. “I can’t. It’s not right. What he did. You’re not… I can’t.”
Eva looked down sharply, the burn of embarrassment coloring her face. Shame flooded her senses, filling her throat with bile and her eyes with tears. He didn’t want her. Not as a lover, not as a sub. He still viewed her as broken, too fragile to claim, too damaged to desire.
Without realizing she had moved, Eva found herself stumbling past Jack toward her room. She grabbed blindly for the jeans and blouse she’d been wearing earlier in the day and pulled them on. Jamming her feet into some shoes, she grabbed her purse and her cell phone. Her breath was ragged and sharp, and tears spilled down her cheeks.
She had to get out of there! She had to get away from the look of pity and sorrow on Jack’s handsome face or she would scream.
As she ran from her space, she inadvertently knocked against the partition that separated her room from the rest of the loft. It nearly toppled, but she didn’t care. She raced to the front door, grabbed her jacket from the coat tree with one hand and fumbled for her house key with the other.
“Eva! Wait. What are you doing? Wait, I’m sorry. Please, let’s—” She didn’t hear the rest of Jack’s sentence as she slammed the door shut and sprinted toward the stairwell. She flew down the stairs, taking them two at a time. She could hear Jack above, still calling her, but that just made her go faster.
She burst out into the night. People were walking along the sidewalks, traffic moving in the street, no one paying her the slightest bit of attention, which suited her fine.
The air was crisp and cold and she drew in a deep, shuddering breath. She saw a yellow cab heading her way and stepped to the curb, her hand out. When the taxi slowed to stop, she opened the back door and scrambled inside. She glanced at the entrance of Jack’s building just in time to see him step outside, his expression anxious as he peered into the night.
“Don’t worry about me, Jack McQuade,” she muttered as her cab pulled into the traffic. “I can take care of myself, despite what you think.” She checked her contacts in her phone and gave the driver Nora and Charles’ address, aware they might not even be home. Leaning back, she sent Nora a quick text: I need to see you. Can I come by? Are you home?
Anyone else Eva knew would have asked her if she was okay, would have wanted details and information, but Nora only texted back a few seconds later: Yes. We’ll be waiting.
Chapter 13
Nora stood in the lobby of her apartment building, watching through the glass doors as she waited. When a cab pulled up, she saw the passenger lean forward to pay the man. A moment later, Eva stepped out onto the curb. Nora opened the lobby door and waved as Eva approached.
When she saw Eva’s tearstained face, her heart clutched in sympathy. Eva tried to look brave as they entered the foyer of the building together, but when she stepped into Nora’s arms, she started to cry. Nora held her close for several long moments, sending all the love and strength she had into her friend. Then she gently disengaged from Eva’s embrace and pulled a tissue from her pocket, which she handed to Eva.
“Let’s go upstairs,” Nora said, leading Eva toward the small bank of elevators. The car she had taken was still waiting, and the doors slid open the moment she pressed the button. As they rode up to Nora’s floor, Eva wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “The ide
a of the romantic dinner with me as the dessert misfired horribly. I’m such an idiot.”
“On the contrary,” Nora replied. “The idiot is back at his loft, cursing himself.”
Eva managed a wan smile. “He rejected me. He doesn’t want damaged goods.”
“Stop it,” Nora said with a brisk shake of her head. “You aren’t an object in need of repair, and I know Jack well enough to know he doesn’t think of you that way. He’s just scared, Eva. He thinks he has to be gallant and protect you. He doesn’t understand how strong you are. He thinks by denying you and himself, he’s doing ‘the right thing.’” She used air quotes to emphasize the words.
“I just feel so humiliated. I put myself out there, you know? I took a big risk, and I failed.” Tears glistened in Eva’s eyes, a single one rolling down her cheek. She hung her head like a woman defeated.
“No,” Nora said gently but firmly. “You didn’t fail. You offered yourself with honesty and courage. You can’t control how Jack responded, but you can control how you handle yourself going forward. You know what they say, right? When you fall off the horse, you climb back up and keep going.”
The doors to the elevator slid open, and they stepped out on Nora’s floor and headed toward her apartment down the hall. “Your feelings are terribly hurt. You’re afraid the man you’re falling in love with isn’t going to return your feelings, and might even be incapable of doing so, given his misguided understanding of how he thinks he’s supposed to act.”
“That about sums it up,” Eva said bitterly.
“Here’s the good news,” Nora continued. “Feelings aren’t facts. What I mean is, you feel shitty, but that doesn’t have to dictate how you behave. Have you ever heard that saying, ‘Move a muscle, change a thought’?”
Eva shook her head. The door to the apartment was ajar, and Nora pushed it all the way open, gesturing Eva inside. “Hi, honey,” she called out to Charles. “We’re here.”
“Be right there,” Charles replied from the kitchen.
Nora led Eva to the couch and sat, patting the cushion beside her. “It means when you’re feeling stuck inside your own head, sometimes getting out and doing something can change the way you’re feeling. I have just the thing to help you move into a different headspace.”
“I’m listening,” Eva said.
“You’re ready to return to what brought you to the city in the first place, which is an honest, open exploration of your submissive impulses, am I right?”
“Perfectly put,” Eva agreed, a ghost of a smile appearing on her tearstained face.
“Whatever damage you sustained, and I don’t mean to minimize it by any means, it’s something that happened to you. It’s not who you are. You’re like a bird that broke its wing, but now it’s mended. Just because Jack is too clueless, or too scared, to recognize you’re ready to fly, that doesn’t mean you curl back up in the nest and hide your head, does it?”
Eva sat up straighter. “Yeah, how he reacts or doesn’t react doesn’t have to define me,” she said, spirit returning to both her voice and her demeanor.
“That’s right,” Nora said encouragingly. “You give yourself the push and you go! You soar, not because a man gave you permission, but because this is what you want, what you need.”
Charles entered the room carrying a bottle of champagne and three crystal flutes. “Hey there, Eva,” he said with a warm smile. He handed each woman a glass and sat in the chair caddy-corner from the couch. “We were going to enjoy some of this champagne a client gave me before we head out to the club. I hope you’ll join us as our guest at Club Decadence tonight?”
“I love champagne,” Eva said, watching as Charles expertly popped the cork and filled the glasses. “But going out to a club?” She bit her lip, and Nora felt the fire of Eva’s spirit sputtering a little. “I’m not sure I’m in the mood.”
“You know,” Nora said thoughtfully, trying to hide her smile, “we could let Charles go to the club on his own. You and I could stay here and finish this bottle of champagne, break out the ice cream and potato chips, and commiserate about what idiots men are.” She took a sip of her champagne. “Or”—she paused purposefully and flashed a grin—“we could put on something super-sexy and head out to meet likeminded folk who share our passion for BDSM and sensual submission. Within the hour, if it’s what you want, you could be enjoying the hot, stinging kiss of leather across your ass. You could feel the snug embrace of rope wrapped securely around your wrists and ankles, or the delicious confines of cuffs and chains holding you against a cross while a handsome, sexy Dom who appreciates the gift of your submission gives you a full body flogging.”
“Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” Charles added with a mock frown, entering into the game. “You can either have a great time at one of the hottest BDSM clubs in Manhattan, or you can let me go alone while you two girls sit home and eat junk food and get drunk and wail about what assholes men are?”
Nora nodded emphatically. “Yep. That sums it up pretty well.” She turned to Eva. “So? Which is it? Pity party or reentry into the BDSM community? I know a super, single Dom who’s going to be there tonight. I’m sure an introduction is all it would take, if you find him to your liking. It’s up to you.”
“You guys are too much.” Eva laughed. “The thought of playing with a Dom, even if it’s a controlled scene with a stranger, is very appealing to me. I wish it were Jack, but…” She glanced down at her jeans and hastily buttoned blouse and sighed. “I’m not really dressed to go out to a fetish club.”
Nora popped up from the couch. “That’s what girlfriends are for. I have a whole wardrobe of sexy outfits. Let’s go try some stuff on.”
~*~
Have you or Nora heard from Eva? We kind of had a fight and she left the loft nearly an hour ago. She isn’t responding to my texts. I’m worried.
Jack hit send on his phone and waited for Charles to respond. He could have called, but he wasn’t in the mood to speak directly to anyone. The jumble of emotions assailing him had left him disoriented. He felt like he’d been rear-ended in a car accident, his head slamming against the steering wheel and scrambling his brains. He didn’t know what he felt, or what he should be feeling. He just knew he wanted Eva back. He wanted another chance.
Eva is with us. We’re headed to Club Decadence. Join us there!
Did she tell you what happened?
In general terms, yes. Listen, Jack. She’s ready for more. She’s stronger than you think. If you want her, she’s yours. Don’t shut her out.
Jack stared at the text for several moments. If you want her, she’s yours.
Jack stared at the spot where Eva had been kneeling earlier that evening, her slender arms gracefully lifted behind her head, her small, proud breasts, barely covered in sheer black lace, beckoning to him, her knees spread in submissive invitation.
His phone dinged again. An address not too far from his loft flashed across the screen and then: Dude! You coming? Get your ass down here. Nora’s already got a guy lined up for Eva to scene with. If you hurry, you can take his place, but you gotta move that ass of yours.
“McQuade, you idiot!” Jack shouted into the empty room. “You’re going to lose that girl!” He leaped from the couch and raced to his bedroom, tearing off his T-shirt as he ran. He replaced it with a black silk button-down shirt. Stripping off his jeans, he pulled on black leather pants and his favorite boots. He grabbed his leather bomber jacket from the hook by the front door and headed out.
Once outside, he punched in the address of the club on his phone’s GPS, using the pedestrian mode and tapping into the subway routes. The estimated time was twenty minutes by subway, and fifteen if he walked. Only in New York, he thought as he headed down the block with long, determined strides.
Jack had never been to this particular club, though he knew it was a favorite of Charles and Nora. The place had been closed for renovations for a while, and had only recently reopened. It took him a minute or
two to pin down the exact location, though his phone insisted he had arrived at his destination.
Finally he saw the small placard with the street number and the words Club Decadence painted in raised gold letters against a black background. He headed down a narrow flight of concrete steps to a solid-looking door painted a shiny lacquered red, a large peephole at its center. There was a buzzer beside the door, and he pressed it. A moment later, the door swung inward.
A tall man in his thirties with a shaved head and multiple piercings in his face looked Jack up and down. “You have a reservation?”
“Uh, no,” Jack said, then added, “I’m with Charles and Nora Finch.”
The man smiled. “Ah,” he said, a metal ball glinting at the center of his tongue, “you must be Jack. Charles asked me to look out for you.” He stepped back, gesturing Jack inside. “Cover is forty bucks for non-members.”
Jack reached for his wallet and extracted two twenties, which he handed to the guy. “Want me to stamp your hand so you can come and go tonight?”
Jack shook his head. “No, that’s okay.” He wondered then what he was even doing there. He’d been on autopilot since Charles’ text that Eva was going to scene with someone else. The thought propelled him forward once more.
He moved past the greeter into the club, which opened onto what looked like any bar, except for how the people were dressed. There were a couple of dozen people milling around the room. Most were in some combination of leather and bare skin, many of the women in stiletto heels, some people entirely naked, save for chains and collars. Through an arch toward the back of the room, Jack could see the play area, which contained the usual play stations set up with BDSM equipment and gear. Several scenes appeared to be in progress, though from where he stood, he didn’t see his friends.