Saving Sunni (23 page)

Debi watched her retreat from the back corner where she’d scuttled when I opened the door, and then turned back to me.

“That was Melissa, right?” she asked.

I nodded, tossing her the tract. “She wants to save me now. For Randy’s sake. I’m getting sick of everybody wanting to save sunni.”

“Wow, aren’t you special.” Debi sounded like I’d told her Melissa had been trying to convince me to return to Mars with her to save the world from a super villain.

We exchanged a look and went back to our work.

Being in charge of the store felt good. My mind was completely distracted from worrying about Sir, sage, Randy, and even Geri. I threw myself so completely into going through the inventory that the rest of my concerns drifted away. For the first time in weeks I was completely comfortable.

On the drive home, however, they all came charging back. Surprisingly, what I thought about most was Melissa and why she felt compelled to convince me to go back to Randy. It could have been to get back at Geri. I knew Geri had been part of the bdsm community once, and I wondered how much Melissa had been responsible for her mother’s removal from the scene.

As I neared the apartment my thoughts drifted back to Sir and sage. Had they been discussing our situation, maybe even making plans without me? Had it occurred to them that if they got married Sir’s immigration problems would be solved? Would the government allow him to stay if we all lived together but he was only married to one of us?

Sir’s car was not in the parking lot when I pulled in. He must have gone to the television interview. sage sat at the kitchen table studying, and she confirmed it. Somehow it made me feel better that she hadn’t gone with him.

“The interview should be on at eight,” she told me. “He said to go ahead and eat dinner and save him some.”

“I’ll cook,” I said, and she nodded, going back to her books.

But she didn’t stay there. I turned around from putting a pan of water on the stove to see her leaning on the counter, regarding me with a serious face. That was nothing new; sage almost always looked serious. But her words surprised me.

“So how are you feeling?” she asked casually, like there was nothing particular going on in our lives but she was just curious about my state of mind in general.

“Fine.” I went to the refrigerator to see what vegetables we had. I was probably in for a lecture of some kind and felt tired and irritated.

“Do you feel like all this stuff is making you depressed?”

Oh, my God. Now she was going to try to psychoanalyze me?

I sighed. “No, I’m not depressed. I’m a little tired of this mess but I’m sure it’ll work out okay.” I looked at her out of the corner of my eye, worried that she was trying to tell me something. “Don’t you?”

sage shrugged. “I’m sure it will,” she said noncommittally. “But this must be really hard on you. Wasn’t Randy your high school sweetheart?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “So?”

“Well, I was just wondering. Maybe the fact that you never put through the divorce paperwork before was a subconscious desire to get back with him. Do you thi—”

I had whirled around so fast that she stopped in the middle of the word. Her eyes widened at my expression, and she took a step backward.

“No, I don’t ‘think,’” I spat at her furiously, finishing her thought. “And I’m sick to death of people telling me what I am or should be thinking, or feeling, or doing. I don’t believe I should go back to Randy, or have him arrested, or do anything else. He just wants to know he can still get to me. When he’s tired of that he’ll give up and go find another girl to torture. Why doesn’t everybody just realize that and leave me alone?”

sage backed all the way to the door, hands up in front of her as though she was afraid I might start throwing things. She turned to go back to her books with an air of injured concern.

“Okay, okay. I was just trying to help. Don’t take out your frustrations on me.”

“Well, don’t start practicing your dime-store psychology on me,” I shot after her, but she was already out the door.

Chapter 23

By the time dinner was ready it was almost time for the interview. I loaded two plates and took them to the living room, handed sage one in silence and went back for a glass of water. Neither of us said anything as we waited through the commercials and news teasers for Cobb to announce that he had “gotten to the bottom of the ‘sex-club’ accusations.”

When they finally got to the interview, Cobb did a quick recap of the story so far, reminding his viewers that Sir had been “gracious enough” to share his side of the story and had even offered to arrange a chance for Cobb and a guest to experience some of the activities that went on in the “kinky club,” as he called it.

The view widened to show Sir, Cobb, and Jim sitting around a coffee table, as if they were on a morning talk show instead of discussing whether Sir should be jailed for abuse or assault.

“We called the police station this morning, and they informed us that the case against Mr. Wulfgar is closed,” Cobb said, nodding briefly in Sir’s direction.

Sir’s head snapped toward the reporter, but he didn’t say anything. No one else looked surprised, but it was obvious that Sir had not yet been told the news.

sage and I let out a simultaneous whoop of joy. But as our eyes met we remembered we were mad at each other so we settled back to our dinners quietly. The tension was gone, though, and we both smiled broadly. I hadn’t realized how stressed I had been about the police investigation until it drained out of my body. I felt like I might float up to the ceiling out of sheer relief. Of course there were still other things to be worried about, but at least Sir wasn’t going to be arrested.

I turned my attention back to the television to see that Jim describing his time at The Keyhole.

“It was really a fascinating experience,” he said, like he’d spent the evening taking part in a head-shrinking ritual with a group of cannibals. “I have to say that everybody I met at the club was very nice.”

“You sound surprised,” Cobb said. Sir’s eyebrows went up a fraction.

“Well, yes and no,” Jim said slowly, shooting a quick glance at Sir. “I really didn’t know what to expect. I mean, you see people dressed in leather and you think of outlaw bikers, you know? And then the video—” He stopped and looked nervously at Sir, as if asking permission to go on. Sir nodded gravely at him.

“The video looked like there was something really dangerous going on,” Jim continued, edging his chair ever so slightly away from Sir.

“And what did you think the club would be like?” Cobb prodded.

Jim scowled a little. Finally he shrugged with a self-deprecating smile.

“I’m not exactly sure,” he admitted. “I guess I was kind of picturing an old horror movie. You know, with a dungeon and a rack and a bed of nails—that kind of thing. Evil scientists and deformed assistants named Igor. Beakers of exotic chemicals with black steam coming out of them. Handcuffs and chains hanging off the walls or the chandeliers.”

Cobb nodded. Everyone was smiling now.

“And there were some of those things, although most of the assistants I saw were not deformed at all.” Jim’s face took on a dreamy expression. “Actually there were some people I wouldn’t mind meeting again. For example, the lovely Mistress Mary, who owns the club, was very gracious and beautiful in her leather dress.”

“And what kinds of things did you experience?”

Jim took a deep breath. “Well, let’s see. I had hot wax dripped on me…”

“Really?” Cobb sounded shocked, pretending he hadn’t been standing there watching the whole thing. “What was that like?”

“Interesting,” Jim said slowly, maybe reliving the experience. “It hurt a little, but not too much. I was a little nervous when she got out the huge knife to scrape it off with.”

“A knife like the one Mr. Wulfgar was using in the video?”

Jim looked at Sir, surprised. “Yes, I guess so. She didn’t cut me or anything. It seemed kind of dramatic at the time, but nothing actually happened.”

“What else?”

“Somebody put needles in me.”

“You were pierced?” Cobb quickly scanned Jim as if he thought there might be jewelry sticking out under his clothes in strange places. I wondered if he was doing that for effect. Surely he remembered what had happened.

“Not exactly,” Jim clarified, touching his arm about where Charlie had inserted the needles. “It was just a couple places about here, and the holes went away pretty quickly afterwards.” He lifted his sleeve to show the absence of wounds.

“What was that for?”

“I think it releases endorphins or something,” Jim said. “It felt pretty good after a few minutes. I kind of didn’t want him to take them out.”

“It is not dissimilar to acupuncture,” Sir interjected, “although the placement is not as deep. The needles release endorphins and are used more for artistic and sensation purposes rather than medical ones.”

“And what was your impression of the activities? Would you do any of them again? Obviously the police do not consider them to be abuse, or dangerous, particularly. What did you think?” Cobb squirmed in his chair; maybe the thought of needles made him uncomfortable.

Jim looked a little embarrassed. “Yeah, I have to say I’m intrigued by the experience. I don’t know about the electrocution part, but the rope bondage was kind of fun. And the outfits some of the—”

“Electrocution?” Cobb interrupted, giving him a warning look.

“I didn’t mean electrocution,” Jim amended. “But there was a machine that—” He looked at Sir, obviously lost for words.

“Mild electrical stimulation, very similar to the tens units used for pain management,” Sir provided, like he was prompting a schoolboy trying to remember state capitols.

“It sounds shocking.” Cobb was obviously pleased with his little joke, but Sir just gave him a somber look. Jim tried for a laugh, but it came out as a half-hearted snicker.

Cobb looked slightly embarrassed but recovered himself, clearing his throat. His voice went down a fraction, back into reporter mode. “Mr. Wulfgar, would you like to comment on Jim’s experiences at the club?”

Sir turned to Jim. “The things you tried and wrote about in your blog this morning, were all very common ways that kinky people play. None of those things should be done without comprehensive negotiation and a great deal of attention paid to how the person receiving the action is reacting to it. There are some people who like to do more dangerous or painful forms of play, but there are specific reasons for that, and it should never be done to an unwilling partner. There are always people available to give advice and assistance when needed. Ms. Mary will be happy to talk to anyone interested in finding out more about the club.”

Cobb leaned back and nodded, put out that Sir stole his line, and repeated the name of the club and Jim’s blog for anyone who wanted to “read more about this interesting lifestyle.”

All of the men shook hands as the interview wound down, and sage got up, taking the plates into the kitchen. I stood up to follow her when the phone rang. Since I was closest, I picked it up.

“Hello?” said a young, hesitant male voice on the other end. Had I missed Cobb giving out our phone number on the news? I didn’t think so.

“Yes, hello?” I repeated.

“I am looking for—sunni, I think, or maybe Rune?” the voice said, and I discovered why he sounded so nervous. It was tricky trying to get in touch with someone from the leather community. Most of the time you didn’t know their real names, and if you had a home phone number you couldn’t be certain that whoever picked up the phone would know their scene names, or even that they had scene names. It was potentially very embarrassing for everybody concerned.

“This is sunni,” I said, making my voice as cheerful and friendly as possible. There was an audible sigh of relief on the other end.

“Thank God!” he said, immediately becoming cheerful. “I didn’t even know if I had the right number. This is Toby. I’m part of the Denver pup group, and you were talking about a meeting to plan a puppy party. Was that right?”

“Oh my God,” I gasped. “I’d totally forgotten about that. I’m so sorry!”

The pause was decidedly reproachful. “Oh,” Toby finally said. “Does that mean you’re not interested in doing it anymore?”

“No, no, of course not!” I gushed, horribly guilty. “I really do want to do it, but there’s been so much going on. I’m so sorry. I want to do the event. Let’s set up a meeting right now. How about this Thursday at seven? We can meet here at our apartment. Can you get in touch with everybody?”

“Sure, honey,” Toby said, sounding cheerful again. “I’ll get the group together and make cookies to bring.”

I was in the middle of giving him directions when the front door opened. Sir went into the kitchen to greet sage while I hastily finished the phone conversation as he came into the living room followed by sage carrying his dinner. Putting down the phone, I knelt in front of him to do my nightly greeting.

“Hello, pet,” he said, stroking my hair. “Who was on the phone?”

“Hello, Sir,” I said, putting my arms around his thighs and rubbing my face on his crotch. I loved the feeling of his penis through clothes. “It was Toby, one of the puppies. I had totally forgotten that I was going to have a meeting about the puppy field day. I told him we could meet here this Thursday night. Is that all right?”