Later that evening...

Los Angeles never seemed so alive to Patrick. The sun had set so all the businesses on the strip had their lights on and their wares out. Instead of drab daylight the night was made bright with neon colors and flashing bulbs.

The two-story red building that housed the Stockroom looked plain by comparison to some but the stark white mannequins trussed up in bondage gear and blindfolds were impossible to miss. They flanked the black door that led into the shop. Pat held it open for Nikki. He hadn't been to the place since he'd died but it still looked the same. White walls were a stark contrast to the black sheer curtains that hung over the 2-story multi-paned windows on either side of the door. A fancy black chandelier suspended from the center of the ceiling lit the vaulted room. Along the staircase that led to the 2nd floor small black frames lined the wall, displaying photos of notable people dressed in gear from the Stockroom.

Nikki paused at a glass case near the entrance to examine the high-ticket items locked within but she wasn't really looking with herself in mind. She was there to be a shopping buddy to Patrick. He led the way past a couple of other glass displays, looking over the contents of each before stopping in front of one. Far in the back Patrick saw what looked like a twin to the rubber suit that had been at Murder House. He purposefully ignored it and focused on what was in front of him. He tapped lightly on the case, over what he had his eye on.

"Oh," said Nikki, leaning in to get a better look. She had to sweep her hair back out of the way to see. "Those?"

"Yeah," Patrick said. "An old kink."

She smiled. "Roses. How romantic."

A fellow came up to them on the other side of the glass case. In any other place his black mohawk, head tattoos and multiple piercings would exclude him from employment. Here they were considered badges of expertise. He wore a skin-tight black bondage shirt that hugged his toned physique in a way that both Nikki and Patrick appreciated.

"Those work a lot better with this," he said knowledgeably and set a metal band on top of the glass case.

His potential up-sells leaned in closer. The clerk smiled, warming to the moment. "See this here?" he said, pointing to a raised area that had a hole through it. "That's where you attach this." He pushed a thin metal rod through the narrow tunnel. The tip of it hooked inward and was also a hollow tunnel. "See?"

The appreciative sounds they made let the salesman know he'd scored a hit.

"What keeps it in place?" asked Pat.

"Is it something you can leave in?" added Nikki.

"Here's how it stays," the man said, demonstrating with a twist of a tiny screw in the side of the first little tunnel. "You can leave the crown on forever, if you want," he said, tapping the ring. "As long as you practice good hygiene. You probably don't want to leave the thru-piece on when you're not using it though. It's really just to make things easier when you're actually playing."

"All right," Pat agreed. "I'll take the lot."

He didn't ask about the price; most people who shopped the Stockroom didn't. It was an elite bondage and discipline boutique. Nothing there was cheap unless there was a rummage sale on outdated and unwanted items.

"Oh, I'd like one of the crowns too," Nikki said, enchanted.

The clerk looked sad. "Oh, sorry. This is the last one we have in stock. But we're getting another shipment in two weeks if you'd like me to hold one aside for you."

"Shoot," the woman said. "What're the odds of running out of something like that?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised," the clerk confided. "We had twelve horse speculums on Monday. Now we're down to just one. And that rack of vinyl corsets over there was three racks just two days ago. It's amazing how quickly we go through products."

"Horse speculums?" Nikki repeated. Even she was thrown by that one, despite all she'd experienced.

The clerk nodded. "Who knew there was such a demand?"

...

Back in the library, Patrick gave the adjustable spreader bar an experimental pull to make sure it was locked in place. It wouldn't do to have it self-adjusting at the wrong moment. Attached to the ceiling by a thick length of chain, it looked a bit like an oversized trapeze. The bar withstood the initial tug test.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

He looked over at Nikki. She had stripped down to her undergarments: A black lacy bra, sheer black stockings and a black garter belt. She wore no panties. Her long dark hair fell loose over her shoulders; her milk-white skin made her a study in contrasting colors similar to the Stockroom. She wore a pair of simple mink-lined bondage cuffs on her wrists.

"I'm ready," she smiled.

Her expression and tone were steady but inside her heart was racing. It had been several decades since she'd been with a man other than her husband and much longer since she'd agreed to allow herself to be topped by any man, directly. But it was the only way Patrick would agree to the arrangement and the temptation was too alluring to resist.

Pat beckoned to her. She sauntered over and stood beneath the bar, with a quick upward peek to be sure she was aligned correctly. He took her right arm and with a click fastened the cuff's link to the ring on the spreader bar. He let his hand trail over her skin as he moved to the other arm and did the same with it.

With that last click her heart jumped. She was locked in now. Nikki had been a ghost practicing bondage long enough to know that restraining a spirit hinged on the willpower of the ghost doing the binding. She knew from early experimentation that she wasn't strong enough to break her husband's restraints.

"What does your husband think about this?" Patrick asked her as he moved around behind her, almost like he knew what she was thinking.

Her lips tugged in a tiny smile. "He wanted to be involved," she admitted. She turned her head so she could see him.

"Face forward," corrected Patrick and she did. "Were you and he swingers when you were alive?"

"Yes," she said. "Not as much after we were married though."

He found the crop Nikki purchased at the Stockroom and hefted it. It was light, thin and rigid. Not his style of tool. He preferred leather that could cover a broad area at once. But the implement, like the company, was a matter of convenience. Both were available and so it made sense that the two should be brought together.

"What did you tell him you were doing tonight?" He drew the crop across her pert, bare bottom, letting her feel the cool stiffness of the rod.

She gave an involuntary shiver of delight. "I told him we were testing some equipment you got at the Stockroom."

"Is that when he asked to join?" asked Patrick. He brushed the crop between her thighs, stroking it down the left one to her knee.

"Ah," she said, losing focus. "Yes."

"What did you say then?"

She took a little too long answering; he swiped the crop across her backside, leaving a red stripe and making her yelp.

"I told him I didn't think you'd be comfortable with that," she gasped.

He smiled at her reaction. "Are you afraid he'll go gay?"

She tried to look at him then but he struck her ass again. "Face forward," he said, more sternly this time.

"I'm not afraid of that," said Nikki. She curled and uncurled her fingers in time with the throbbing of the welts. "He's been with men before."

"So... You wanted me for yourself?" Patrick asked very close to her ear.

She wanted to turn her head, to press her lips to his, but he was being very insistent on her facing forward. So she resisted. The effort made her tremble. "Yes."

"You know you can't keep me," he said. His voice was like a caress.

"Of course," she said. "I only have room for one kept boy anyway."

He struck her with the crop again, delivering another stinging stripe below the first two. She cried out in pain. The chain supporting the spreader bar rattled.

"I'm no good at being a kept boy," said Patrick.

He ran the crop between her thighs, up the right one this time, all the way up. She let her head fall back. Her dark hair brushed the top her hips.

"You are a bad boy," she agreed.

He smiled and took a fistful of her glossy hair and pulled her head back more. Not rough, just back enough to see her face. She met his eyes and begged him to take her. He gave her a light kiss, just a quick contact of lips, then he released her hair.

"You'd know all about bad," he said as he rubbed the crop against her crotch, slow and gentle. Teasing.

"Mmm," sighed Nikki. She let the bar support her as she swayed, trying to rub herself more firmly against the tool. "I'm as bad as they come."

He obliged her with the crop, applying more pressure for her to grind against. "How would your husband feel if I fucked you right now?"

She moaned softly, needful. But that wasn't answer enough. The crop lashed across her rear, pulling a sharp yelp from her. "He wouldn't like it," she admitted.

He moved the crop back up between her thighs and began to stroke her with it more purposefully, dragging the smooth surface over her clit.

"I won't fuck you," he said, real close again. "Unless he's present and says it's okay."

Nikki moaned as the ripples of pleasure intensified. "He, ah. Halloween," she managed before another moan took her.

"Halloween?" he asked without breaking rhythm.

"Here. Meet us. Here. Halloween night. Oh, god, I'm cumming!"

She gave a twitch that jerked the spreader bar and gasped, rising up on her toes for a few intense seconds before going limp. The chain held her weight. Patrick patted her striped bottom, eliciting a little groan, then he went to clean the crop off. She hung there limply till he returned, considering what she'd offered in the heat of her orgasm.

Patrick let her loose, gently helping her lower her arm so the sudden shift in position wouldn't hurt. Once she was free she set to removing the cuffs and putting her clothes back on.

"Halloween," he said, watching her. "Did you mean that?"

"Sure. Sam and I usually 'celebrate' here then. Come join us."

Pat thought about it himself. "Mind if I bring someone?"

...

Author's Note:

The Stockroom is real. It's L.A.'s oldest and best fetish shop. American Horror Story shot on-location in their store when Chad went to purchase the Rubber Man gimp suit so if you're curious what the place looks like, check it out in the first season. And yes, the place really does go through that many horse speculums. They loaned Rubber Man to the show for the duration of filming. It was, last I checked, still available for sale. I guess those suits aren't as popular as horse spreaders.

Evan Peters, Tate's actor, didn't find out he was Rubber Man till the episode where he was unmasked. He said that in order to wear the thing, you have to oil up first, which made it very cold to wear on set. It didn't flex very much and was uncomfortable in the crotch area. He also said that when he told his fellow cast members about the new plot development, they said: "Oh you're Rubber Man? Oh my God. Wow. Oh you're sick. Something's wrong with you." All in good humor, of course. As a side note, two of Peters' favorite scenes to film were the dinner scene with Larry and the scene where Constance is smacking Tate around for having sex with Vivien. It's nice to know he enjoys Tate's suffering as much as we do.

Next chapter:

We're going back to 1993 for a peek at what Tate was up to just months before the Westfield shootings. Also: Find out a little bit about the snake ring Tate wears as a teen.