She was used to having someone in one of her fantasy rooms; it was when it was empty that she worried.
The "Cave" was a popular dungeon room frequented by many major clients. The heavy dank air sent chills down to the marrow of every bone. Her eyes roamed every handpicked chain that hung from the ceiling, specialty shackles that protruded from the floor. The harsh steel could leave marks unlike fine leather, but then that wasn't the point in here. Replicated medieval weapons, masks, blindfolds, gags; all hung ominously from the carved stone walls. No need for fake, painted over foam; her clients deserved to hear every echo of their moans and screams. Nothing like the satisfying sound of leather to bare skin in here.
Four solid minutes devoted to the heavy gate, every unoiled hinge silenced by patient hands; inch by inch it bent back to rest closed without its rusty creak. Voyeurism was not her forte, though she would not deny her curiosity. Her motivations were thinly veiled.
He held his Maglite like a fine instrument, sweeping the illumination along the opposite wall, checking the highest points from a stepladder. His body twisted upwards and over, finding and achieving balance.
The CSI supported his weight heavily on his right leg, the other one used tentatively. After several minutes he descended the ladder, grunting once. When he stood and all his weight was added to both limbs, he limped gingerly for a few moments, trying to shake off obvious pain, his hobbling halting when he saw her standing there.
"Lady Heather," he addressed, smoothing out his T-shirt, and knocking any dust from his snug jeans.
"Nick. I don't want to hurry you. Just wanted to know the time frame of your occupancy in here."
She curled her fingers around one of the links of the larger set of chains, tugging on the heavy weight while he stepped closer to her, his brown eyes staring at the metal rings.
"I just finished."
He rested white latex-covered hands on both hips, the color contrasting vividly with the dark denim. Powder residue glowed like fluorescence stretched over arched fingers. A man who wore latex on a regular basis and didn't even understand the erotic values.
Such a shame.
"And what did you find?" she asked, separating pleasant thoughts from business.
Nick's eyes lowered as he breathed through his nostrils. "Nothing. No place that a camera of any sort could have filmed anything inside here. No windows, no see-through panels. Also, you can't open that heavy gate without creating a loud noise, enough of a one to distract someone no matter what was going on."
Heather leaned against the twists of metal, letting it dig under her chin just enough, the rest held across her chest tightly enough to lean her body weight over it. "This room won't divulge its secrets."
She could smell fresh perspiration, the adrenal glands kicking into overdrive, tiny beads building between his shoulder blades, along the grooves of his throat and neck. The word smoldering did not do justice to the way his pupils dilated. If she didn't know better, Nick was holding his breath not to give away the new spike in thrill he was experiencing.
"Couldn't find anything in the doctor's office either," he ground out, voice smoky and thick.
The chain grew tauter over her body, held firmly by her left hand, the right one stretching lazily over the higher links, chin resting along the middle. "What did you think of that room? Very authentic. Any number of physician or nurse fantasies at your disposal."
"Sterile exam tables and being poked and prodded is not my kind of turn on," he drawled.
The metal chafed her skin. "Perhaps another environment could make you unleash all those impulses. "
"And here I thought it was about who you were with," he retorted.
She could easily see the outlines of his pectorals though the shirt molded to his body with increased sweat, and the strain of muscle. His right latex-covered hand gripped a chain to hold him still, or keep him at bay she couldn't decide. The vein on the side of his forehead beat rapidly beneath the skin. Those synthetic rubber hands a beacon hard to ignore.
"Of course, we believe in a healthy environment. Even all the instruments are sanitized after every use." The Estée Lauder Blackberry on her lips was sticky as she parted them to speak.
His grip grew tighter over the link of chain, the plastic ready to tear between his straining palms. "I don't think there are any photos. This is about simple access to information."
"I don't want to start accusing my employees without any facts." Her fingers danced down the steel, bringing the chain back to the center of gravity, hanging vertical to her body.
Nick released his as well, giving it an arbitrary glance. He slowly peeled off his gloves, the smacking of thin plastic reverberating inside the walls. He carefully pulled the other one off, balling them up in his hands. "I don't have anything physical, just conjecture. I need the actual blackmail letters...any of them."
"Then I'll get you one."
He opened his mouth, but the clanking commotion of the gate being flung open broke them off.
Heather faced the intrusion to their conversation as one of her employees entered and froze mid step when it was obvious the room was occupied by the Domain's leader and her guest.
"Excuse me, Mistress, I wasn't aware this was in use," one of her masters apologized, head bowing before her.
Even with the black leather mask concealing his face and the lack of clothes except for straps that criss-crossed his massive hairless chest, and tight vinyl pants, she could identify any of her employees no matter what form of dress.
"It will be ready for your appointments in a little bit. I arranged for your clients to meet later."
The zipper hid the man's mouth, but Heather knew a rigid jaw. Two alpha males in the room were a catalyst for tension, one that she avoided unless desired by the other occupant. The Mistress didn't need to turn around to sense Nick had moved closer, a change in his breathing made her ears perk before the she heard the sound of his boots.
Solid muscles bulked up with effort, eyes challenging between the slits giving sight.
"Yes, Mistress."
Her air passages expanded with the scent of a lingering aftershave that she admired, as the criminalist was beside her.
"You may go now," she instructed.
Her sharp tone broke the stare down as the other man nodded hastily again. "Thank you, Mistress."
The room groaned in relief when they were left alone again. She turned her head, face inches from his. "You really should channel all that passion into something more productive." Heather tilted her head to watch the lovely vein pulse away faster.
"Who was that?" Nick inquired, his eyes still watching the door.
"Thomas. He's a real sweetheart under all that."
Her guest crossed his arms, "Not much he wasn't hidin'."
Heather turned to him fully. "We all conceal something."
He didn't bite, instead began a hasty retreat. All his posturing had a noticeable effect on the lingering pain he unsuccessfully tried to hide.
"You might want to stretch those leg muscles when you wake up and before long periods of use. Ice at night, heat in the morning will help with the healing process."
Nick dragged his stubborn left leg as he walked away from her.
She kept from reaching out until he was ready to accept it. He turned around in the doorway. "Call me, if you get anything I can examine."
Heather felt a jolt so startling that she closed the distance in three quick strides. They gazed eye to eye. "You might want to start with this," the mistress snapped, finger like a dagger to his breastbone, the pumping muscle beneath pounding inside his chest.
"I stopped looking with that back in an alley," he whispered, voice strained and brittle.
Her chest ached, stifling a need to touch the hot skin of his cheeks. "Don't ever turn your back on that. Can't you feel it, the pressure ready to burst wide open from all that suppression? All those barricades impede your very nature. Passion, vigor, arousal, all fueled by what's in there."
His face faltered but the dam held despite fissures, tiny swallows of his throat and a shaking body. "I'm sorry, but I can't."
She forced her arm to reach out, but he was gone. For once she wasn't sure about something...about someone and did not follow.
A/N:
Thanks to those are are still following this romp in another direction. Sometimes you just need to have some fun. Though now based on GE's comment/joke recently..it brought a smile to my lips.