Safeword: Davenport Read online

  As they finished the walk-through he said, “I can't tell you how much I love what you've done. There's enough of her around I don't feel as if I've tried to exorcise her from my life, but you made the house distinct to my tastes and I want you to know I appreciate it. This process has helped me heal, in large part due to your thoughtfulness and consideration. I even had a girlfriend a few months, though we've long since separated. Did you bring your final invoice?"

  He took the manila envelope she offered and motioned towards a sofa. “Please, have a seat. I'll be right back."

  Dana thought it odd he'd had a girlfriend while she worked with him, as she hadn't seen evidence of a woman in the house, or of play equipment being used. She'd dated someone a short time also but it still seemed wrong he'd had a relationship she hadn't known about.

  He was only gone a few moments before striding into the room with purpose and placing a smaller envelope on the table beside her. “Final check. I believe this ends our business transaction?"

  She slid the envelope into her purse and stood. “Yes. It's been a pleasure working with you. If you need anything else, please don't hesitate to contact me. “

  As she turned towards the door he said, “I'd like to ask you out. On a date."

  Dana's insides ignited. She'd harbored a secret attraction to him for so long, safe behind her rule about not dating clients, and she suddenly realized she'd just lost her protective barrier.

  She'd been out on dates, gone out with a nice gentleman over the weekend, in fact. However, submitting would be... no, she'd only kneeled for Garnet. She couldn't surrender her will to anyone else.

  Pivoting on one foot, she made sure her back was straight and looked him in the eye, working hard to pull off the Domme look. “You still have no idea of whether I'm a Top or bottom, Zach. I'm flattered, but I'm afraid it wouldn't work."

  He spoke quietly. Earnestly. “You're submissive. We run in different circles so I had difficulty finding someone who knew you. A friend who used to live in Nashville remembered you, had seen you and your husband playing together. I'm not the only one who's lost a spouse and turned their libido off. The difference is, I've switched mine back on. I want to help stimulate yours again, too."

  Her eyes began to water—not from sadness, but because she was pissed. “You had no right, Mr. Irving. My husband passed away a few weeks after your wife. I sold our home and bought a condo downtown within months of his death, drastically downsizing and giving away most of our shared belongings. You have no idea what I've done to move through my grief."

  He continued in the same soft voice. “You were submissive to him, and you're a masochist. I don't know if you were twenty-four/seven or only his during scenes.” He smiled, his crystal blue eyes daring her to deny his next words. “I know you like the cage in my bedroom though."

  She sank into the nearest chair, deflated but no longer angry. “That's all you found out? Descriptions of our public play at the club?"

  He nodded and she dropped her gaze to her feet a moment before standing again. She wasn't submissive anymore, and looking up wasn't working for her.

  "Tell me what you're seeking. What type of relationship do you envision for your future?” She only asked so she could shoot him down with reasons it wouldn't work—no matter how attracted to him she may be, her submission had only belonged to Garnet.

  She told herself if Zach weren't a Dom they might have a chance; but a little voice in her head whispered she wouldn't be drawn to him if he were vanilla.

  Taking a seat on a nearby sofa, Zach looked up and said, “I want someone else to love—to share my life with, grow old with. I'm a Dom, so they'll need to get off on submitting to my control in the bedroom and playroom; but otherwise I don't have any specific requirements in mind."

  He wasn't giving her enough to work with. She tried another tack. “Bethany was twenty-four/seven. Do you want that again?"

  "Not necessarily,” he said, shaking his head as he leaned back and rested his arm on the sofa's armrest. “Not at first, for sure. I want twenty-four/seven availability for sex, but I prefer a partner for everything else. Maybe pick an occasional week or two for a full-time dynamic where I spend brief periods micromanaging her, but not on a permanent basis.” He shrugged. “However, if we fell for each other and she needed an Owner, I could do it again."

  Damn, that wasn't too far off from the sort of relationship she'd probably want, should she ever venture into another long-term power exchange. Which she didn't plan to do. She wondered though—if he'd already been in what sounded like a TPE and liked it so much...

  Dana sat back down, facing him across the coffee table. “Why not full time? You talk as if your relationship worked perfectly for the two of you, why would you not want it again?"

  He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Bethany was raised in a fundamentalist household with more rules than any child should have to learn. She got a full scholarship at an out-of-town college, and her parents only allowed her to go after finding a suitable church in the area, and arranging for the pastor and his wife to keep an eye on her and chaperone anything besides required classes. Unfortunately, her father had no idea he'd placed her under the domain of a sadist."

  Obviously angry all over again, he shook his head. “He's in jail now but he woke things up in her, turned her into a sexual creature who craved pain and sex. She was a virgin when he got hold of her and...” he stopped abruptly, reining himself in before continuing.

  "When I met her she was making a lot of very bad choices, going from man to man to man, needing someone to tell her what to do, clinging to the men who treated her like shit. She was a beautiful soul, but she desperately required guidance. She'd never been allowed to make her own decisions, and I had to teach her how to choose something as simple as what she wanted to eat. Once I took her in and gave her boundaries and the sensations she craved, taught her enough self-awareness to understand how to determine choices based on her own wants and needs, she blossomed. I was so proud of her when she took control and helped manage the design and construction of our home."

  He paused, his gaze on the far wall without seeing it. He closed his eyes briefly before turning to meet hers, making her heart stutter with the passion and raw emotion he allowed her to see. “As much as I loved her, I'd prefer more of a partner this time."

  "What went wrong with your three month relationship a few months ago?"

  "We were compatible in bed and in the play room; we just didn't have much else in common.” He shrugged. “I enjoy attending plays and live music performances; she preferred NASCAR races. We parted on friendly terms, but agreed it wouldn't work."

  "You know I'm a masochist. Are you a sadist?"

  He shook his head. “I hurt to show I'm in control, to demonstrate I can—more for D/s purposes than sadistic. I am good at inflicting pain though, so as long as you're okay with displaying the proper amount of submission, I think I can provide the sensations you're looking for."

  Finally a reason it wouldn't work, so why was she sad? She should be skipping to the door relieved instead of explaining her feelings. “I think I need a sadist, not a Dom. I've only submitted to one man—Garnet woke it up in me, trained me to be his. I've considered bottoming, to take care of my masochistic tendencies, but the idea of submitting is just...” she stopped, started again. “Belonging to someone would be wrong. Dating doesn't feel like cheating, nor does having sex, but he taught me to submit. I can't give myself, my will, to another Dom."

  Zach held eye contact for a few dozen heartbeats before giving the briefest nod. “I can work with that. I'd enjoy the chance to Top you without power exchange, to see where it leads. If I may ask, how active have you been since Garnet passed?"

  She'd thought she was turning him down, but he was reacting as if he assumed she was making an offer. Could she accept his proposition? Did she dare?

  The floor came into focus, and she forced her gaze back up, his gentle eyes calming her nerves. She
decided to answer the easy question first—she wouldn't be interested in going out with a man who'd just been on a few dates since being widowed, either.

  "I've gone out with maybe seven or eight men, but only had sex with two—one was a three week rebound, and I dated the other for several months. Neither were the least bit adventurous in bed. I'm pretty sure I'll be okay with a relationship with no power exchange, but I won't be satisfied with vanilla for the rest of my life. It's good I gave it a try and got it out of my system, but I'm going to need more."

  He grinned. “I like you and I want to get to know you better. Will you go out with me? I won't ask you to submit, and I promise you if we decide to have sex, there'll be nothing vanilla about it."

  She already knew she enjoyed his company. What could it hurt? “What did you have in mind for our first date?"

  "Tomorrow night, dinner at The Mansion Inn. I also have tickets for the symphony Friday evening, if you'd like to join me and a few friends to eat at the Southside before the show?"

  "I didn't think The Mansion was doing public reservations anymore?"

  "They aren't."

  Dana had eaten there once and it'd been the best food she'd ever had. “Yes, to both. Assuming we don't crash and burn tomorrow evening."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Three

  * * * *

  Dana slid the chain over her neck and paused, fingering the two wedding rings. She'd stopped wearing hers a few months back, allowing it to join Garnet's on the necklace.

  Tonight she'd opted for a sexier look—a simple light green dress with clean lines, and her hair in a loose bun at the crown of her head, curls spilling out. She'd known when she picked the outfit that the chain would have to stay home, but habit had taken over. Sighing, she pulled it over her head, bringing the rings to her lips before gently placing them in her jewelry box.

  It wouldn't do for him to know she still wore something so sentimental, anyway. She'd be hesitant about a widower who still wore his dead wife's ring around his neck, and she wondered if she were truly ready to date again, since she hadn't been able to put Garnet's away for good.

  The buzzer pulled her from her reverie and she walked to the foyer to unlock the elevator before taking one last look in the mirror, her stomach queasy with nerves.

  She opened the door to Zach in a hip charcoal suit, crisp black shirt, and a fresh haircut; and her pulse skipped a few beats as their eyes met. Her body was certainly eager to date again, even if her heart wasn't. “Come in while I grab my purse. If we have time I can give you the grand tour."

  "Please do—I'd like to see what a superb designer does with her own place. I love your view."

  Her gaze followed his to the panorama of the river with the aquarium and art museum across the way, and the four bridges, each echoing a distinct era. “Thanks, it was one of the biggest selling points. My balcony is a primo spot during the Riverbend Festival and the concerts in the park. This is the living and dining room, kitchen is in there.” She gave him a few seconds before heading towards the private areas. “I've turned the spare room into a combination office and workout space."

  He looked over her drafting table before walking to her computer station. “I believe you may be as much of a tech person as I. How long have you lived here?"

  "A little over a year and a half. I put our house on the market three months after he passed away, and moved before the six-month mark. My sister is using some of my old furniture with the understanding I may or may not want it back, eventually. I sold or gave most of it away."

  She walked out of her office and into her bedroom with him on her heels. She'd used simple lines in the rest of the condo, evoking a feel of modern city living. However, for her private space, she'd gone over the top with fabrics and color reflecting the Victorian era. The contradiction was striking, giving the sensation of traveling through a time machine.

  "Wow. After all your talk of finding a style and keeping it consistent, why the difference?"

  "Interior decorators are allowed to break the rules, especially while they're in the process of recreating themselves as an individual.” She turned away, looking at the room instead of into his eyes. She felt as if he saw too far into her soul sometimes. “My former home was a combination of my style and Garnet's—mostly Mediterranean, leaning heavily towards Italian Baroque. When deciding on a design approach for the condo, I opted for clean lines with lots of glass to give the illusion of a bigger area. But for my personal space I needed warm and comforting."

  She shrugged and faced him. “The room was big enough to handle it, so I indulged myself."

  He stepped to the French doors and opened them onto the balcony, whistling a surprised note that gradually faded off to nothing. “I hadn't imagined you'd be able to get a hot tub up here."

  She laughed. “It wasn't easy. Play your cards right and I'll invite you to join me on a night the Lookouts shoot fireworks after a home game."

  The butler looking fellow at the front desk of The Mansion seated them and left, closing the door on his way out, and she raised her eyebrows. “Considering we aren't staying here and shouldn't have reservations at all, how'd you manage a private room? Not that I'm complaining, just curious."

  "This is a case of who I know more than anything else. I love the food and hoped you'd feel comfortable discussing kinky things this afternoon, so I opted for a place with privacy."

  Dana smiled, feeling a bit of a tease as she said, “Kinky things? I'm sure I have no idea what you might be talking about."

  He grinned back, but more serious. “We've spent a lot of time together and you've learned a great deal about me. You know my tastes, you even sensed when I was about to lose patience and you needed to get the contractors on the ball and moving faster."

  He gently placed his hand over hers. “You're very good at your job, but I don't know much about you, personally. You have wonderful vision, you're efficient, you hire the best artisans, and you're not easily flustered—but that's the business side. I saw glimpses of the personal when you schooled your face to keep from reacting to the cage, or to the additions I had Frederick arrange for the bondage table, but I want to get to know the rest of you, and I learned just enough from my friend to whet my curiosity. He told me of a demo where your Master put four large hooks into your back and left you suspended for hours—perfectly still, no sounds. Living artwork above the other activity."

  He glanced at their joined hands, raised his eyes to hers. “I find myself both disturbed and turned on by the idea. I researched the practice, read some first person accounts, but I have to ask what goes through your mind during such a powerful scene. And how often you need something so intense."

  Dana looked away, focusing on one of the wall murals. A knock sounded as she opened her mouth to answer, and four waiters came in—two with soup bowls, another with a bottle of wine, and a fourth with a basket of warm bread. The latter spoke while the others arranged table settings and poured wine, giving them a rundown of the exotic cheeses and spices in the broccoli soup, and an explanation of why this vintage was chosen.

  The wait staff trailed out as a group and she tasted a spoonful of her soup, moaning as the tastes mingled before exploding in flavor. It was subtle at first, but different flavors burst through as they slid their way down her tongue, various taste buds experiencing the same bite in distinctive ways.

  Zach grinned. “Yes, I love this soup. I've tried to get a recipe but they won't consider it. I even offered an outrageous sum of money once, but... no."

  Dana savored another bite before attempting to explain why it was unlikely she'd sink so far into subspace again. Not so long ago, she couldn't have talked about her submission to Garnet without crying, but she'd finally progressed past the bottomless despair to the point of bittersweet memories.

  "He began preparing me days before an intense scene. I was stripped naked, my closet locked, and he was the only one with a key. He'd store my laptop and e-reader,
the power cord to my desk computer, my drawing supplies, TV remote, cellphone —— all my work and leisure stuff. He had a cage built in his closet, so he could store me away when something else needed his attention."

  Zach smiled when she mentioned the cage and she grinned, a little of her tension flowing away. He didn't look judgmental and seemed interested and accepting, so she took a breath to settle her emotions and continued. “I wasn't twenty-four/seven, but scenes lasted for days, as did punishments. If I needed correction, he added the time onto our original agreed upon session, and there was no way to end the power exchange until the he deemed the punishment over. We'd have a scene maybe once every three to six weeks with his control pretty much total for the duration."

  Her grief threatened to surface and she sipped her wine, working to keep a lock on it. Crying over her dead husband on a date would be bad form. His fingers folded over hers and she looked up, the warmth from his hand and eyes giving her the bolster she needed, allowing her to continue. “Besides denying clothing and leisure activities, he'd occasionally take away the right to use furniture, and...” she paused, not sure she wanted to share so much, but quickly inhaled and plowed ahead. “He kept me cleaned out so I could wear a plug for extended periods. My liquids and calories were closely monitored—sometimes there was little food and I was hungry, other times he provided plenty, but only things I disliked. Or, maybe it'd be a favorite. I never knew what to expect."

  She looked for signs of disgust but saw understanding. “Over the course of a few days I became someone else, something else—no worries, no decisions, just his. Sometimes loss of choice is frustrating, but it can also be freeing, and he usually helped me find the place where I was relieved to let him be in charge."