Bailey: Independence #1
Bailey O’Conner
Independence #1
Karen A. Nichols
Copyright 2012 by Karen A. Nichols
First Edition
Published by Karen Nichols. Copyright, Karen Nichols. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author except for brief quotes used for review purposes.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
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This book contains adult content and explicit sex, including anal sex, oral sex and BDSM aspects.
Chapter One
Bailey O’Conner absently listened to the chatter around her.
Not so much interest anymore, she thought to herself, making her way through the people plotting their Friday night parties. It was Halloween weekend. There were to be tons of parties and she had standing invitations to far too many of them. She was thirty-one and single but very tired of the crowd of friends she’d allowed herself to become part of.
No, it wasn’t that she was tired of them, so much as the activities that seemed to occupy their time.
She’d never been much into alcohol. And she wasn’t all that crazy about the overly loud music that ended up pounding through her skull. And really hated being pawed without her permission on a dance floor where everyone pretended it hadn’t been their hand.
When she left the large freight elevator that led to her re-created loft apartment in a small suburb outside Seattle, the big shiny package definitely caught her attention. An embossed crème colored envelope had been slid beneath the bright red ribbon that circled the box.
Bailey managed to slide her door wide, clutching the large box to her as she went inside her compact apartment. She used her hip and nudged the door closed until the lock caught.
She laid the box on the small, solid dining table and stared. She didn’t know anyone who would leave her a gift. Especially not a gift like this. The paper and quality of the envelope alone told her they were from very high end places.
Okay, girl. Not the time to turn into a coward.
Average, yes. She knew she was always average. But a coward? Never.
She pulled the envelope from beneath the wide ribbon and carefully opened the flap, breaking the lightly glued seal. The typing was done in an elaborate script that rolled prettily across the paper.
This is your night. Your chance to explore and open your senses. Everything you need is inside the box. Be at the address below at eight this evening. The gold coin is your pass inside a new wonderland for you. They will record the number on the coin. Make certain it is returned to you. You’ll need it later. A vehicle will call for you at seven-thirty to deliver you to your destination. It will also wait for you, when you’re ready to return home. Your costume and destiny await you.
Bailey swallowed hard. Setting the paper down, she slowly pulled the ribbon free. The lid was next, lifting it off and setting it on the table. Tissue paper the shade of ripe raspberries was peeled back slowly, her eyes widening, blinking and simply staring.
This wasn’t a cheap party store costume.
Her fingers stroked and massaged the soft combination of velvet and silk and see-through crepe in a glorious mixture of shades of green. From emerald to spring, the colors called to her and matched the varying moods that struck her eyes.
Bailey wasn’t sure when she began undressing, but slowly she ended up naked and lifting the pieces of the costume from inside the box. She fit the bra like top around her, leaning into it and adjusting her breasts while hands moved behind her to fasten the clips in place.
She stared down at the brocade border, the emerald green fringe below her breasts and the deep well between them. Next she lifted a small bolero style jacket. It didn’t meet in the center, was softer and lighter than anything she’d ever worn and it fit perfectly over the top, its edges on either side of her breasts.
Bailey stopped dressing and quickly removed the two items. She pulled the band from her hair and quickly headed to the shower. She’d wanted different, she told herself firmly. And evidently some fairy godmother had heard her and fulfilled the wish.
She knew the address. Vaguely. It was a very high end part of town and a very exclusive club. She shampooed, showered, rinsed and scented until she was satisfied. A thick towel was pulled repeatedly over her hair to pull as much moisture out as possible before the thick, ripe deep red ringlets began forming.
She carried the box to her bedroom and laid out the outfit reverently on the bed. Top and jacket first. She shook herself side to side, giggling nervously at the fringe moving. She stood before the mirror, adjusting the headpiece and the fine, soft fabric of the pale green veil around her face and shoulders.
Stepping into the legs of the pants was interesting. She left her panties on at first until she realized they would ruin the whole outfit. Chewing on her bowed lower lip, she examined the billowy trousers. They were lined. And soft. Almost like built in panties, she told herself as she stepped into them a second time. She carefully bent and clipped the sparkling bands around her ankles before sliding her feet into the ohh-so comfortable pair of glittering flat silk slippers.
By the time she stood in front of the mirror again, she really wasn’t sure who the woman was staring back at her. She felt silly but looked behind her to find the woman who really stood facing her in the mirror. But she was alone in the small apartment.
She lifted the small fitted mask and adjusted it over the upper part of her face, fixing the veil and inhaling deeply.
Lastly, she stared into the bottom of the box. The remaining piece was like frosted silver. The outside was velvet and the inside the softest satin she could have imagined. Brocade in a deep emerald that matched the trim on her costume, edged the heavy cloak.
She lifted it, shook it lightly and draped it around her shoulders, fastening the three ornate clasps and lifting the hood over her head. She could feel the heavy tassel against her back as she moved around her bedroom. She looked down as she walked, watching the edges of the cloak swirl around ankles banded with shimmering emerald.
She rummaged quickly through the small selection of perfumes and found one she’d bought at a farmer’s market. Chai Spice. She closed her eyes and gave herself a light dusting, set the bottle down and walked purposefully to the door.
No backing down now. She checked the note one more time and ran back into the bedroom, locating the large gold coin in one corner of the box. It was embossed with the name of the club and a number. She closed her fingers over it, feeling the cold metal in the center of her palm as she collected a small purse with identification, some money and her key. She stuffed it into the pocket of the cloak and took one last, shaky deep breath before leaving the apartment behind her and going to the ground floor and out into the night.
A young man in a simple black suit and cap stood beside a white town car. He moved to the door and opened it, his head tipped patiently.
“Miss O’Conner?”
“Yes. You’re my driver?” A tiny hint of nerves began to bubble.
“Yes, ma’am,” he smiled and gestured to the inside.
“Thank you,” Bailey never noticed the low, husky sound of her own voice. She’d always chalked it up to nerves and insecurities that she’d battled with most of her life. Freckles and red hair had a tendency to draw unwanted attention.
“Who hired you?” She grimaced at the burst of words, thick lashes blinking and staring into the mirror as he buckled his belt and started the car. She was glad the glass between them was open. She really didn’t want a panic attack and that could be warded off with talking. And as her mother would say, lord, can that girl talk!
“We only received an order for the car with location and name,” he said, almost apologetically.
“Do you like it? Driving, I mean?” Bailey settled into the comfortable cushions, positioning herself so she could watch him. He barely looked twenty. Clean shaven, short clipped hair and pleasant.
“I do like it. The hours are good, I know roads in the city people probably didn’t know existed and I can do my homework in-between trips. Tonight, I got food, homework, music and peace and quiet. Roommates can make you homicidal,” he listened to her laugh. “I’ll park somewhere you’ll be able to find me when you’re ready to leave.”
“Thank you,” she let her mind drift, watching the October night fly past. Lights and people and cars everywhere. It was almost eight when he pulled before the unobtrusive looking building. It was wide and four stories high. There wasn’t a line outside, but people milled around talking. Only a set of double doors with shiny brass handles. An awning covered about ten square feet and a very large man stood by the door, an earpiece showing below the neatly shaped haircut.
“I’ll be across the street,” he pointed to the parking area. “We’re early so I’ll get a front row space. Have a good time at the party,” he said with a smile, holding the door for her and offering her his hand.
“Thank you,” Bailey still clutched the coin in her other palm, clinging to it like a life line. She should have researched the club. She hoped it wasn’t crazy twenty something’s with music that made her head throb. Squaring her shoulders and telling herself she had to attend the party because her driver needed to get his homework done, she approached the door and pulled her palm from inside her pocket.
Daniel Lutton watched the approach of the woman shielded by the ornate silver cloak. Most of her face was hidden, but the opening of the cloak betrayed a length of silk covered leg that tantalized and hinted at more treasures beneath the cloak. He held up his palm. He knew most of the regulars. And she wasn’t one of them. The lights above highlighted the bright emerald of her eyes.
He reached into an inside pocket for a small note pad.
“I have this,” she said quietly, opening her palm and waiting.
He looked down, one brow arching. That changes everything. He picked up the coin, made a note in the book of the number and handed it back to her. He reached for the door and pulled it wide, not saying a word.
The number on the coin said it all.
Bailey wasn’t sure what to expect. The entrance was almost severe in its arrangement. A sofa and a large desk; some nice green plants and a calendar on the wall. She noticed the soft glow from the lamp on the high desk and the pretty girl behind it wearing a mask and a smile.