Searching for Rodriguez

by financebabe

Stephanie is sent to train staff in Boston and Miami and required to work with the mysterious Rodriguez. What starts as a special assignment may quickly lead to something more, but what?

10. Showtime

I am shamelessly using the world created by JE for my own fun.

Jen (JenRar) you are an amazing beta and I am so lucky to have your help on this story.

Chapter 10 - Showtime

You'd think by now I'd be used to the feeling of having my every embarrassing moment being observed by a team of people who will then break it down and discuss it at length over drinks and in staff meetings for weeks to come. For some reason, knowing that would happen was only increasing the size of the butterflies current trying to get airborne in my stomach.

I passed by the RangeMan plant at the door with just a nod, and then made my way through the crowd to the bar, where there were some empty stools near the skip. He was to my right, which was the side with the crop on it, and I watched him look at my outfit with appreciation, but when his eyes hit that little toy, they absolutely doubled in size. I eased up on the stool and waited for Red to come over for my drink order.

"Rum and coke with a lime and a straw," I requested, trying to remember how Rodriguez said I should be very particular, as though I expected my every instruction to be followed.

Whittaker slid over one seat so that we were side by side and said, "Can I buy you that drink?"

I glanced at him, trying to seem uninterested while giving him a top to bottom look. "If I wanted you to purchase my drink, I'd have told you so," I replied, before turning back to look at the other patrons in the mirror.

"You're used to being in charge?" he asked, sounding almost hopeful.

"If you have to ask, then you have no idea what I'm used to," I responded without so much as a glance.

"I think I understand," he assured me eagerly.

Red set my drink down, with the lime on the edge, but there was no straw.

When he asked if he could get me anything else, I replied, "Yes, you can get me what I ordered."

We stared at each other for a few tense seconds, before he eventually caved, pulled a straw out from under the bar, and put it in my glass with a smirk. "Happy now?"

"Yes," I replied tersely. "I'm glad you decided to give in to what I wanted."

He disappeared to handle other patron's orders and left me to the skip and my drink. I pushed the ice around with the short straw, before taking a swallow. The first thing I noticed was that there was definitely rum in my drink. Not only was there alcohol, but if anything, it was like he nearly forgot to put the coke in. I had never had this drink made so strongly before. My eyes started to burn, and I had to clear my throat to keep from coughing. Red knew his whole purpose in being planted there was to make me virgin drinks. How difficult was it to do his job, especially after making such a big deal about why we needed a RangeMan plant for a bartender?

I put the glass down, knowing I couldn't drink any more, which was a shame, because it might take a while to get the skip to follow me out.

I spun around on my stool so that my back was against the bar and I could look out over the dance floor. It also gave Whittaker a chance to see my wrist with the collar and my purse with the cock ring hanging off of it.

I could feel his eyes on me and knew I needed to wait for him to approach me so that I could assert my position of power again.

Finally, he spoke up, but his voice was more hesitant. "Would you like to dance?"

I looked at him and just stared for a while. "You're new to this, aren't you?"

"New to what?" he asked quickly.

I tapped the collar on my arm impatiently. "I was hoping there would be someone suitable here, but I don't think this is the right kind of place for what I'm looking for tonight."

"What are you looking for?" He jumped like a new puppy hoping for a bone to be thrown his way.

I unsnapped the collar from my arm, straightened it, and then snapped it back into a single circle so that it was obvious what it was. I ran it between my thumb and index finger, taking my time to respond. I needed to be the one controlling this conversation.

Finally, I said, "I was looking for someone who understood what this meant and knew the thrill of submitting in every possible way."

I refused to break eye contact, knowing I had him if he looked down. It only took three seconds before his head bent and he replied, "I've worn a collar like that."

I ran my hand through his hair to assert some authority and thought it felt slightly greasy. Before I got lost in the thought of how long it had been since he washed his unkempt mop, I said, "But is that who you really are? I'm not looking for someone who is just experimenting; I want somebody who needs this."

I stopped the contact and waited for his response.

"I was a sub for a long time, but finding the right Dom isn't easy. I'm a big guy, and people assume that means I just want violence."

Thank goodness Rodriguez had explained the whole Dominant/submissive relationship, or I would have totally blown this conversation. "You are big, and that opens up a world of possibilities…but you're right, it's about trust. It's about you giving up the control so that you can just feel and do without having to lead."

I watched him shiver at my words, and I began to feel guilty for leading him down this path. He was going to end up in handcuffs at the end of this conversation, but not for the reason he might think.

He waited without saying another word, and I had to admire his ability to wait for instruction. "My drink is going to waste," I said out of the blue, knowing I couldn't drink any more since it was so strong.

He continued to sit on his stool with his hands clasped between his open thighs and his head down slightly.

"Finish that drink while you think through whether or not this is what you really want. If you decide it is—" I set the collar down on the bar beside my glass, "—then you know what to do."

He stayed still long enough that I began to panic I had done something wrong. But he slowly moved around and picked up my drink, draining the glass in several fast gulps. The glass hit the bar hard when he was finished, and he picked up the band of leather I'd placed there. He ran his fingers over the black material, as though he was truly taking his time to consider my offer. I realized I had spent years judging people whose sexual preferences were different than mine, but seeing how much this meant to him made me realize there was a lot more to this type of relationship than whips and chains.

Whittaker snapped the collar around his neck and stretched his head from side to side, as though testing the feel of it. I knew I couldn't just tell him we were leaving, or he would bolt. I had to build up some level of trust according to Rodriguez, so I leaned in to say, "We're going to dance now so we can see how this fits us both."

His shoulders relaxed, which surprised me. I figured he'd tense up as I started handing out orders, but apparently, he needed this. My take on the world obviously needed to be broadened past the 'Burg upbringing I used to view it.

I walked to the dance floor and turned to see him standing in front of me, hesitating. I didn't realize I was going to have to dictate everything little thing. "Put your hands on my hips."

His obedience was immediate. As creepy as it was to have a stranger's hands on me, somehow calling the shots of what he touched made it less sickening. "Now relax and dance," I instructed, hoping the guy could do that, because I was not capable of calling out dance moves.

He wasn't the best dancer I'd ever been partnered with, but he was far from the worst, as well. There was a timidity there that could have been endearing on the right person.

I waited until the song ended, and then leaned in to speak directly into his ear. "I've decided I want to take you with me tonight. You listen very well, and I'm convinced we could have a very satisfying evening," I purred.

Then I added, "You will follow me out, staying close, but not touching me. This isn't about violence, but don't think for a minute that I would hesitate to punish you severely for disobeying one of my commands."

I had to hope he was hooked, because my instructions for the character I was trying to play were exhausted and I had nothing more to add. I turned and walked away, keeping my steps measured, but not delaying as though I thought he might back out. It took all the control I had to keep walking and not turn around to double check he was following me.

It wasn't until I stepped outside and heard Needle say, "Roger Whittaker, you are in violation of your bond agreement, and we're here to take you in," that I knew he was behind me.

I spun around and watched his head jerk up in surprise as the guys easily got the cuffs on him. He looked over to me, probably trying to figure out if I was a part of the team hauling him back to jail. Fortunately, the look on his face was one of regret, and I felt so guilty for leading him on that he didn't suspect me as being associated with the guys.

As they passed by where I was standing, he stopped and spoke to Needle, who reached up to take the collar off and hand it back to me. I knew he definitely didn't need something like that around his neck in jail, so I took it and turned to walk away in the opposite direction.

As soon as the guys got him in the waiting SUV, they were off, so Angel called the remaining team together to talk about what happened. For the most part, everyone was riding high on the success of the evening. I was struggling with a feeling of overwhelming guilt for leading him down the garden path for something I never would have delivered on. I didn't usually feel this way, but I felt like I'd asked him to trust me, and then betrayed that somehow. Strangely, even though I knew he belonged in lock up for the things he'd done, I felt unworthy of the trust he had been so willing to hand over.

I was lost in my thoughts until Angel said my name, asking if I had anything to add.

At first, I said, "No," but then Red walked out, having taken a little longer to get out from behind the bar and join everyone else.

Seeing him reminded me about my drink, and the guilt I had been wallowing in turned into anger, as though somebody flipped a conversion switch of some sort. While I had plenty of reasons to not like the guy, I knew I was taking out my guilt about tonight on him, beyond what was appropriate.

"What is wrong with you?" I asked loud enough that the group around us could easily hear.

He put his hands up like he was surrendering and gave me an indulgent smile, like he was letting me get away with that tone of voice because I was just girl.

If anything, it only fueled me on, "You were there for one reason tonight – to fix me a drink with no liquor in it – and what do you do? You give me a drink that is ninety percent rum with just a splash of coke. If I'd needed extra time to get the skip's attention, I would have been forced to finish that drink, and then I couldn't have pulled off the rest of the distraction."

"You asked for a Run and Coke, and that's what I gave you," he said, as though that were in any way appropriate.

"Were you not in the meeting where we explained the whole reason RangeMan provided a bartender is so that I can order a regular drink, but get one with no booze? You even asked a question about why it was necessary, so I know you heard me say it," I pushed on.

"It was one drink. What's the big deal?" he responded, not appreciating the way I was jumping on him.

That was definitely the wrong thing to say. "The big deal?" I repeated. "The big deal is that for these distractions to work, I have to trust you to do your damn job. After that stunt, which I know was intentional, I have no trust in you. Angel can decide how to use you when Stacey takes over, but if I'm involved, you aren't working another distraction on my team."

"Well, it's a good thing I don't report to you, or I might be disappointed," he replied, taking a step closer.

Angel wisely got between us. "But you do report to me, and if Stephanie says you don't work a distraction, then you don't work another one."

That royally pissed Red off. "You're letting this little girl boss you around?"

Angel didn't respond; he just crossed his arms over his chest.

"Fine," Red conceded, seeing his boss wasn't going to take his side in this, "but when she's gone, don't come to me wondering why the guys have no respect for you."

Red tried to take a few steps away, but Angel called out, "I'll expect your apartment to be cleared out by the beginning of the week."

"You're firing me over this?" he asked, not able to believe it.

"No, I'm firing you because you refused to carry out an order. In our business, that gets people killed. Tonight, we got lucky, but it could have turned ugly, and you may not care, but I have a bigger team to think about than you. So, you're out of here, effective immediately," Angel told him firmly.

It was the first time I'd seen a glimmer of the fierce fighter in Angel that I knew Ranger had to have seen to have put him in charge of an office. Nobody could hold a candle to the power Ranger exuded, but right now, I wouldn't want to have Angel looking at me with that expression on his face.

"If anybody has a problem with what happened tonight, you can take it up with me in the morning," Angel announced, before walking to the SUV that had brought us to the bar.

It wasn't until I felt a hand on my shoulder that I realized everyone was leaving. I turned to see who had touched me and saw Rodriguez standing there, looking very concerned.

"You okay?"

I nodded, even though it wasn't true, and began to walk to the truck to go back to Congress Street. I needed to get back to my apartment and get out of this outfit. In order to keep it together, I was focused on the collar in my hand, pulling it between my fingers in circles.

No one said a thing in the truck, and when we parked in the garage, I jumped out before the key was out of the ignition. The head start I got on everyone else allowed me to get in the elevator before the guys, so I went up to four by myself. I was beginning to feel the normal shakes my body would go through after a distraction as I tried to get the key in the door.

I heard a set of boots step quickly out of the stairwell and come straight over to me. I shut my eyes and took a few deep breaths, willing my body to control itself just long enough to get away from whoever was approaching so that I didn't humiliate myself.

A warm set of hands took the keys from my grip and put them easily in the lock of my door, opening it so that I could walk in. I yanked the crop off my hip and threw it and the purse onto the bar hard enough that they skidded over and fell off the opposite side to the floor. The collar, I kept firmly in my left hand.

I don't remember a distraction ever getting to me this way. I felt like I'd betrayed the skip, which was ridiculous, and it was just further pounded in by the way Red was willing to sacrifice me, breaking whatever trust I had in the team here. It was as if karma had decided to teach me a lesson none too subtly.

I walked over and plopped on the couch, not sure what I should do next. Usually, I ran to the shower, desperate to feel clean, but that burn wasn't there for some reason.

It wasn't until the cushion next to me dipped down that I remembered someone was in my apartment with me.

"You were perfect tonight," Rodriguez spoke quietly to break the silence of the room.

"Thanks for your help," I replied politely, not wanting to make idle chat tonight, despite that being my usual tendency.

"You didn't do anything wrong," he continued, switching tactics.

I shut my eyes and leaned my head against the rest behind me.

I felt him try to pull the collar away from my hands, but I didn't want to let it go, so I tightened my grip.

"No," he spoke firmly, using his hands to pull my fingers away. "You have to let this go."

As he pulled the collar away, I knew he was talking about more than the leather band. I needed to let the guilt go, as well.

"It's…" There were no words in my head to finish that sentence. Figuring Rodriguez already thought I was an idiot, my editor turned off and the thoughts just spilled out without much organization or filter. "It's like I betrayed him by hooking him on trusting me and then leading him out to be arrested."

"It's no different than any of the other guys you bring out," he tried to disagree.

"But it is. They're following me out of lust," I started before Rodriguez spoke over me.

"And so was he. Don't think for a minute he would have put this around his neck if he didn't want you sexually. The whole Dom/sub dynamic is a different approach to sex, but it's still sex. How they express their preferences is just different, but he followed you for the exact same reasons as the other creeps you lure out in Trenton. It took a different attitude and a different outfit, but it was the same thing," he argued.

I couldn't agree, despite really wanting to. "But the look on his face…he gave me back the collar…he had no idea that I was the reason he was going to jail."

"Which is a good thing, or you could be in some serious danger right now," Rodriguez added. "Look, he was disappointed, clear and simple, and he gave you the collar out of self-preservation, because wearing something like that to lockdown might insure he couldn't sit down for the next few days without a lot of discomfort. You played a role, and he played one, too. If you two had been hooking up for real, after it was all over, you would have gone one way and he would have gone the other, and that would have been that, so don't beat yourself up over this."

I listened and tried very hard to believe him, but the skip's expression wouldn't leave me alone when my eyes closed. We sat in silence, until I heard someone at the door.

"You expecting someone?" Rodriguez asked, stiffening up and pulling a hardened face unlike anything I'd seen on him before.

I shook my head no, and Rodriguez was up, standing to the right of the door, tightening and loosening his fists with a light bounce to his feet. I'd seen Lester like this right before attacking when he sparred with Ranger. Neither of us had turned on any lights when we came in, so except for the little light under the mounted microwave, the apartment was dark.

With no warning, Rodriguez gripped the handle of the door and swung it open, revealing a very surprised looking Scar.

He raised his hands to show he wasn't a threat and said, "Boss sent me over to sit with Stephanie tonight. Red is in the building, clearing out his stuff, and we want to be sure you can have some peace without worrying about him bothering you."

It was a very sweet offer, and of all the guys from Boston, Scar was probably the best choice for the job. But I didn't want him here tonight. "Thanks for the offer," I began.

Rodriguez jumped in before I could get any further in turning Scar away for the evening. "Yeah, man, but I'm here for her, and we're cool."

The two guys had a brief staring contest, as though testing the will of the other to see who was more committed to my safety for the evening.

Eventually, Rodriguez won, because Scar took a step backward and said, "Hit zero for the control room if either of you need something. I doubt he'll try anything, but then, I never thought he'd try to sabotage a takedown, either."

After a few more pleasantries, Rodriguez shut the door and came back over to the couch.

I appreciate you getting him to leave," I told him. "You don't have to stay, either. I'll be fine, and I know babysitting isn't really your thing."

I was curious what he was doing when he dropped his head back on the sofa and ran his hand over his face. "None of this is my thing anymore, but it used to be. I was a part of a team, I had friends that I was close to, girls that I liked."

"Girls?" I asked, focusing on the plural.

His head jerked toward me to look at me, before looking flustered and saying, "Well, one at the time, but you know what I mean. Anyway, when somebody needed me, I could be there for them. I guess I've been away from people long enough that I'm not good at it like I once was, but that doesn't mean that I can't do it – or that I don't want to."

"Why did you pull away from people?" I asked suddenly, not really expecting an answer.

"Long story," he said, before pressing his lips tightly together.

"I'm not sleepy, and we don't have anything else to do," I pointed out. "A long story sounds pretty good to me right now."

He shook his head and said, "I don't know if you're stubborn or just tenacious, but either way, let this go, I'm not opening that up again."

We were both silent for a while, until he added, "And you do have something to do." I must have looked confused enough that he felt the need to explain. "You need to take a cootie removing shower, and then you can veg out in front of the television while eating some of your ice cream storehouse." His eyes danced a little, before he added, "Assuming there's any left."

I pretended to be offended and balled up an awkward fist to punch him in his shoulder with everything I had.

He burst out laughing and rubbed his arm, before his brow furrowed, watching me shake my fist. Reaching out toward my hand, he asked, "Has no one ever taught you how to throw a punch?"

I shrugged. "My family upbringing was to avoid fighting at all costs, so there were no fist making lessons there. The guys all want me to work out, but so far, that hasn't included throwing punches."

"You could break your thumb like that," he said, uncurling my fingers from where I'd wrapped them over my thumb. "Here." He guided my hand back into shape by gently moving each finger. "And don't just hit straight on…swing your arm out and around to your target so you get the full strength of your arm, not just your hand."

"You realize you're giving intel to the enemy here. I'll only be punching you harder from now on," I teased him.

He gave me a half smile. "True, but if Red gets in your way again, now I can relax, knowing that if you decide to teach him a lesson, you won't get hurt in the process."

"Ohhh…" I grinned an evil little smile and said, "I could have used this tonight. When he put that drink down that was so heavy with booze, I was itching to hurt him.

"If he'd pulled that stunt back in Trenton, the guys would have taught him a lesson he wouldn't forget," I remarked, suddenly missing my friends back home.

I felt Rodriguez's shoulders shrug, "Yeah, but you're assuming the guys here won't do the same thing. I have a feeling when he finally gets his stuff out of the building, he might be doing it with a lot more dings and dents than when he moved it in."

We laughed together, and then I sat up. "I'm going to take a shower," I announced, feeling the need to move on to the next thing.

"I'll be here, don't worry," he assured me, and I knew down deep, I was safe.

Taking a few steps away, I stopped to point out, "You know, you're a lot better at this than you give yourself credit for."

He was looking down at his hands to reply, "Yeah, there's this curly haired girl my boss sent me here to keep an eye on, and she has this way of getting under your skin until you're blurting out stuff you normally wouldn't say. I guess she's the reason it's going as well as it is."

"You think it's going well?" I asked, intrigued by what his answer might be.

Rodriguez leaned forward, picked up my magic eight ball from the coffee table in front of him, and shook it up, before holding it level in front of him and laughing. "It is decidedly so."