Chapter 4: Eloise

He held some wrinkled papers in his hand which I assumed was the signed contract between them, which my assistant had asked them to bring. He looked nothing like the other Doms I see in my club on a nightly basis. The typical Doms, with their self-important demeanor, eccentric demands, receding hairlines and soft underbellies had become quite tedious to me, a real nuisance. But they were the wealthy patrons of my club and, not unlike any other businesses, a proprietor must put up with the delusions of grandeur of their best customers no matter how annoying they may be.

The new Dom had sad haunted expression. He literally looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept well in days, with dark circles under his eyes. He glanced at me, noting the gash on the side of my face, and then looked across the club with a far off gaze, as if lost in a fog of his own thoughts.

I usually had a fairly good instinct about people, thanks to my training as a cop. I could tell right away this Dom and his sub had a particularly complicated relationship. There wasn’t just a simple sexual game of control playing out between them. She was collared for sure, but the reluctant Dom held the leash with a very light hand. I could sense that their role-playing masked a deeper connection between them and there were definitely deep-seated emotions involved between them. The young Dom seemed more like an awkward teenager head over heels in love with the prettiest girl in school and completely at a loss with what he was supposed to do with her. I wondered who was actually controlling whom in their relationship.

I looked back over to the sub. She seemed like a free-spirited angelic nymph he had somehow captured from some celestial plain and pulled down to earth with an invisible silken rope. Hovering like a magical sprite in front of us she almost didn’t seem real, if not for the curves of her voluptuous body. She appeared light and airy, like a hummingbird that might flit away at any moment if he let go just slightly of his grip on the lease.

The club was absolutely silent as the patrons stared at these two new visitors. After they whispered something into each other’s ears, the man looked at me with a shocked expression that instantly turned cold. The submissive whispered something else and her Dom nodded. He unlocked the submissive’s handcuffs, freeing her arms from around her back. As she rubbed the spot on her wrists where the metal had chafed the skin, she looked back at me in a friendly, warm manner. The Dom whispered something into her ear again. Then she flashed a lovely and charming smile back to her Dom, shook her head no in response to whatever he said, and then looked up at me once more. Why did she keep looking up at me?

Suddenly the sub stepped closer and did something which grasped me at the very core of my being. She reached her small white trembling fingers out and covered the disgusting red wound on my cheek with her warm palm, resting it there. I stood absolutely still, in a state of utter shock. Didn’t it make her feel sick to her stomach to touch my puckered flesh? Since the ER doctor attempted to close the gaping wound with several thick stitches, no one had ever touched me on my scar, no one. Her gentle contact with my skin reminded me of when I woke up from the surgery and felt my Mother’s hand resting upon my arm. It was as if the sub had slipped her fingertips under my raw skin, below the depths of where the blade had sliced me and touched my innermost flesh. My eyelids felt heavy and I fought off the urge to close my eyes to more fully experience the pleasant sensation of her delicate fragrant soft palm touching my face. She stopped trembling. Perhaps my skin helped to warm her cold hand.

Realizing the crowd was watching the curious encounter, I suddenly stepped away from the sub, embarrassed. I felt like I was some kind of circus freak on display and I dispersed the crowd by giving angry looks at the people standing around too close and gawking. I became angry at the sub as well. I breathed in through gritted teeth at the young women and stared sharp daggers into her innocent watery blue eyes. Despite the visceral heat of my look, she smiled calmly back at me, reached her hand out further to my cheek and rested it there again, as if protecting the scar with the tender cushion of her inner palm. I looked over at her love-struck Dom, who had an intense look of jealousy in his eyes. It was time for the little perverted game they were playing with me to stop.

“Mr. Anderson, if that is indeed your name, instruct your sub to remove her hand from my cheek…”

The Dom cleared his throat.

“Remove your hand from the gentleman’s cheek, Cassandra…”

The sub breathed in, dropped her hand to her side and stepped back to her Dom’s side. I saw the young woman whisper something else into the ear of her Dom and he nodded his head sadly in response. The Dom placed her arms behind her back once more and handcuffed her wrists again. The sub slowly looked back into my eyes and smiled. She arched her back, raising her breasts prominently, seeming to offer her lovely mounds of flesh for my view. I felt myself becoming aroused by the young woman and she glanced down my body to notice the growing bulge in my trousers as well. Somewhat embarrassed, I became stiffly formal with the couple.

“Follow me please,” I said.

“We actually have an appointment to meet the owner of the club, Jim Jefferson,” Anderson said.

“I am Jim Jefferson. Follow me to my office please,” I said.

I walked through the bar in long strides, squeezing between the bodies rather roughly toward the corridor which led back into my inner sanctum. I didn’t care whether the new couple followed me or not. I was disturbed by how the sub had looked at me and the strange unwelcome flood of emotions I felt when she had the audacity to touch my scar. It had put me in a foul mood. I wasn’t concerned whether the Dom and sub stayed for the tour. Part of me wanted to keep pacing down the hallway, escape out of the back exit, hop on my new Harley, fire it up and speed down the highway, cutting between cars without my freaking helmet, leaning the powerful motorcycle toward the cement as I weaved in and out through traffic. But Mr. Anderson had set up at 7PM appointment and it would be irresponsible of me to leave at this point. Not to mention it would be dangerous for the new sub to be wandering around my club in the way she was dressed. I entered my office and sat down. From behind my desk, I adjusted my erection back into the middle of my pants seam so it would no longer poke out so prominently from my trousers, and waited. They paused at the entrance of my office door and knocked.

“Enter,” I said coldly.

They walked in and sat down in the two plush chairs in front of my desk. It felt hot in my office. I loosened my tie slightly and unbuttoned my suit jacket. I didn’t make eye contact with them, but I could feel the seductive eyes of the sub upon me, warming me further. With a mind of its own, my erection would not calm down and slipped back up my thigh, straining to escape from its confinement. I tried to compose myself and present a businesslike demeanor. I looked into the eyes of the Dom alone.

“Are you Mr. Anderson? I asked.

“Yes Sir,” he said.

“Are you the one who called for the appointment?”

“Yes, that was me.”

“Is this your submissive?”

“It is.”

“What’s her name again?

“Cassandra.”

“Can you speak for yourself, Cassandra?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said.

Hearing her soft lilting voice made my heart pound even harder in my chest. I wanted to hear what her voice sounded like again.

“Are you here of your own free will?” I asked.

“I am,” Cassandra said, smiling pleasantly to me.

“Is that the contract?” I asked the Dom.

Mr. Anderson nodded.

“May I see it, please?”

It looked like a standard Master/slave contract, but there was something peculiar going on between these two. First of all, they had only just signed the contract to enter into their Master/slave relationship two days ago. They were obviously new to the BDSM scene. Secondly, most contracts between a Dom and sub were initially set up on a short term basis, usually with an escape clause written into it after 3 months so the Dom and sub could determine their compatibility. Then the contract could be terminated or rewritten if necessary if a longer term commitment was desired. But this contact was set up to end in less than two days’ time. Perhaps they were two social misfits who lived in their basements and their parents were gone until Wednesday. I had never seen anything like it. Lastly, the contract was extremely restrictive for the submissive and had in it various clauses subjecting her to total female bondage and slavery, including the right of her body at the discretion of her Dom to be sexually used and/or disciplined by other men or women of his choosing. These were the types of contracts I was most wary of for they inevitably led to fighting amongst the most aggressive Doms.

When I stopped reading and looked up, both Dom and sub were holding hands with their eyes cast shamefully downward. Were they ashamed I now knew of their naughty little secrets? I felt like the Principle of the school who caught two kids smoking in the hallway. I had never seen a Dom holding his sub’s hand before or two people in the BDSM community who seemed so awkward about revealing the nature of their relationship. Now I was convinced it was their first time entering the forbidden world Obsessions catered to. Then, to my surprise, without her Dom seeing, the submissive looked up and gave me a subtle and playful wink. No other sub had ever flirted with me in or out of my office before, in front of her Dom no less. I didn’t know what to make of it. First, the hand on my cheek. Now this suggestive little wink? What was she playing at? I looked back down at their contract.

I wondered why this Dom and sub mattered so much to me. Usually the interview process was nothing more than a chance for me to make sure the relationship between the new guests to the club was of a consensual nature, to get a few consent forms signed my lawyer created for my legal protection and to go over the basic rules of the club. Though these two seemed to have a deeper emotional connection than most, I didn’t see anything particularly out of the ordinary, except for their inexperience and the provocative manner in which the submissive was dressed. Why then didn’t I just rubber stamp their initial visit at the club, get the consent forms signed and proceed with the tour?

“She touched you there...” I heard a voice within say. “No one has ever touched you there.”

As I quickly finished reading the contract, I noticed something strange on the final page. The submissive called Cassandra signed her name as Eloise Madsen.

“Mr. Anderson, would you mind telling me what’s going on between you and Eloise Madsen?”

“What do you mean, what’s going on?” Mr. Anderson said.

The Dom kept talking, but I wasn’t really listening. When the submissive heard her actual name she looked up at me in a startled manner. Tears came to her eyes as if I had just slapped her in the face. I wondered what it was about her name that made her so uncomfortable.

“Ms. Madsen is your actual name, is it not?” I asked.

“She prefers to be called Cassandra,” Mr. Anderson said, answering for his submissive.

“And why is that?” I said, leaning in and staring at her.

Ms. Madsen looked away from my eyes.

“How rude of you! What business is it of yours what she likes to be called? Who do you think you are?” Mr. Anderson said, raising his voice. “Look, enough of this shit! Are you going to let us in your club or not?”

I handed the contract back to Mr. Anderson.

“I’m sorry, but for the safety and integrity of this young woman, I can’t allow you to tour or patronize my club this evening unless I get some basic questions answered. It appears by the signing dates, the two of you have only just initiated your relationship a few days ago. It is also a highly unusual contract, one of the most restrictive ones I’ve ever seen. Why, may I ask, is the contract over on Wednesday, Mr. Anderson?”

“If you must know, Cassandra is engaged to be married,” Charles Anderson stated tersely.

“What? Married?” I asked, my heart rate inexplicably speeding up at the news.

“Her boyfriend is returning from Fort Bragg on Wednesday. He served in Afghanistan and… Cassandra’s getting… married to him… in a few weeks. That’s why we can’t stay together after Wednesday, if you must know…” Anderson said.

I took a breath and looked at the submissive. She slowly raised her sad eyes to meet mine. After hearing the sub was about to be married to a military officer, I felt relieved that I now had a legitimate reason to deny Ms. Madsen and her Dom access to Obsessions. It was time to put aside this foolishness and go back to running my club. I ended the interview and busied myself with paperwork.

“Mr. Anderson, Ms. Madsen, I will be unable to give you a tour of Obsessions this evening. Thank you for stopping by.”

The Dom stood up like a petulant child and complained, just as I expected. I made the point that because of the short duration of their contract and his sub’s impending marriage, I didn’t think they were seriously committed to the lifestyle. He continued to bitch and moan. I was only half-listening until he told a story, in order to prove his credentials as a legitimate Dominant, of how the Chicago Police Department showed up at their door after a neighbor heard him disciplining his sub over the weekend. Out of curiosity I asked him to describe the officers who responded to the call. I couldn’t believe it. One of them actually sounded like my old partner, Officer Wagner.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Anderson responded. “As I said she was African-American. Late 30’s, stoutly built. Short black hair. Stern face.”

I smiled.

“It can’t be her. It can’t be,” I whispered.

“Do you know this woman?” the submissive asked.

When I asked if the submissive remembered the name of the female officer, Ms. Madsen responded.

“It was… Officer Williams or Wagner, I think. Something like that…”

It was her. It must have been. I breathed out and shook my head.

“Officer Wagner’s out on the street again, serving the public. Well, what do you know…” I said to no one but myself.

“Do you know this Officer, Mr. Jefferson? Perhaps you could call her to check the veracity of my story,” the Dom suggested.

I chose not to answer and went back to work.

“So Jefferson, what do you say? How about a tour?” Anderson asked. “I was wondering what was going on in those rooms we passed on the left.”

“Sorry. Despite the police intervention on your domestic dispute, my decision stands…” I answered.

The guy raised his voice again, but I stopped listening. I couldn’t believe that Wagner was allowed to serve the public as a police officer even after what she did to the homeless man while I was stuck here managing this ridiculous bar. I looked at my computer screen and ignored the wannabe Dom and his sub.

Then another thing happened that was highly irregular. I had met and conducted well over a hundred orientation interviews at my club. Based on my experience, the submissive always sat silently while allowing her Dom to speak for her. But Ms. Madsen was different. She straightened her spine and spoke directly to me in a respectful, yet flirtatious manner.

“Pardon me, My Lord, but may I say something?”

It was strange and somewhat intoxicating to hear the pretty sub address me as “My Lord”. Her deferential tone gave me a unique warming sensation, like sipping expensive liquor. No woman had ever spoken to me in such a way. I looked over at Mr. Anderson and he didn’t seem to mind that his sub was speaking me without his permission or addressing me in such a provocative manner.

“You may say whatever you wish Ms. Madsen. But please call me Jim, James or Mr. Jefferson if you wish. You needn’t call me “My Lord”. I’m not a Dom; nor do I ever wish to be.”

“Why?” she asked, quite innocently.

I raised my eyebrows. Most subs could look forward to a prolonged spanking session for such saucy behavior as questioning another man in front of their Dom. As far as I understood from my casual observation, it was about who was in control. If the sub attempts to take over control, in this case of our conversation, she is “topping from the bottom” as they say in BDSM vernacular. It doesn’t mean the sub wants to be in control necessarily, but that she desires her Dom to assert more dominance over her. By breaking the rules and being firmly disciplined as a result, she experiences the sublime sensation of total submission to her Dom. Perhaps Ms. Madsen was placing me in the midst of this little game of theirs.

“Why what, Ms. Madsen?” I asked.

“Why do you wish never to be a Dom? You’d make a rather… good one, it seems to me,” Ms. Madsen said with a smile.

I returned the smile.

“Well thank you, Ms. Madsen, that’s very kind of you to say, but for the time being, I am simply the owner and manager of this night club, so you needn’t address me so formally.”

“OK… Mr. Jefferson.”

“So, what is it that you wish to say?” I asked.

“I just wanted to say…”

Ms. Madsen turned to face her Dom, took his hand and placed it over her heart.

“Though our contract is short; it doesn’t mean I’m not seriously committed to my relationship with Mr. Anderson. In fact, the last two days with Charles have been the most exciting in my life. He is my Dom and I’m proud to be called his submissive. Though reluctant at first, Mr. Anderson has proven himself to be the perfect Dom. He has given me the courage to explore these… needs of mine and I will never forget him for that. I’ve pledged my obedience and devotion to Mr. Anderson and he’s taken care of me, both emotionally… and sexually… It took a good deal of courage for us to come here and I think it’s wrong of you to make us feel bad by excluding us from visiting your club. And from the reaction of your guests, you may be the only one who doesn’t want me here. I’m curious to know why that is, Sir…”

I was rendered speechless by her comments. Turning back to me, she spoke in a soft feminine purr.

“Would you allow us to visit Obsessions just for a day or two, Mr. Jefferson? We’d be ever so grateful...”

I took a breath. Though my attraction to her grew with each delicious syllable she uttered, I held my position.

“Ms. Madsen, this is not Disneyland where one can purchase a day pass to get in. As owner of Obsessions it is solely under my discretion who I will or will not allow to remain in my establishment. And it is for your own protection that I must ask you to leave. Right now…”

“For my protection? Are you saying I’m too sexy for your club? That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, Sir…”

I was now convinced the young sub was flirting with me for some obscure reason. I addressed the Dom.

“What game is your sub playing, Mr. Anderson?”

“I didn’t know we were playing games, Mr. Jefferson,” Ms. Madsen said, cocking her head slightly and lifting her eyebrows.

I focused my eyes back on the computer screen.

“Good evening to you, Ms. Madsen,” I said, bringing an end to the orientation.

The young Dom finally got the message and started to leave my office, followed by the attractive sub. Near my office door Ms. Madsen whispered something in her Dom’s ear which I couldn’t hear. Anderson nodded and turned to me.

“Mr. Jefferson, would you mind if I used the rest room for a moment before we leave?” Mr. Anderson asked.

“Be my guest. It’s down at the end of the long corridor on your right, near the bar,” I said.

“Thank you. My submissive would prefer to wait here in your office while I’m gone if you don’t mind,” Anderson said.

“Fine. Take a seat Ms. Madsen,” I said, ignoring them both.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mr. Anderson kiss his sub’s cheek in a tender fashion and leave my office. Ms. Madsen took a few steps into the center of the room and I could feel her watching me. She continued a few tentative steps closer. Though I tried not to, I couldn’t help but look up. My eyes swept over her body through the sheer dress, from the curves of her breasts to the open lips of her sex. Even though she was still a few steps away I could detect the sweet, earthy scent of her arousal. Before I lost myself in the intoxicating aroma, I refocused my gaze on the liquor inventories in my notebook. I knew I was running low on my stock, but it was hard to concentrate with the lovely woman just a few feet away from me. I felt her presence, this vision of female beauty staring down at me. What did she want from me? Why didn’t she just sit down on the couch and wait for her Dom to return?

“Is there something I can do for you Ms. Madsen?” I asked.

“What exactly do you propose, Sir? I hope I won’t have to call “security” on you, Mr. Jefferson.”

I looked up and couldn’t help but crack a smile. It felt good to be alone in my office with this woman. I wish she could’ve come to Obsessions without a collar, alone.

“No, Miss. That won’t be necessary. I was simply going to offer you refreshment from the bar, if you’d like.”

“No thank you. I’m not thirsty at the moment. Maybe you could offer me… something else… a little later, perhaps?”

What did the she mean by that? The submissive looked at me with what seemed like a deep flirtatious glance, and then I cast my eyes back down to my paperwork. I tried to focus, but her presence was a major distraction.

God, I liked everything about this woman. Her pretty feminine voice, her lovely body, her personality. I liked how she looked into my eyes without fear or disgust. But what I most liked about was her kindness. I wished I could have her near me all night so I could get to know her better, but she was accompanied to the club by another man, not to mention the fact that she was engaged to be married. “Just do your paperwork and ignore her Jefferson,” I thought to myself.

“You seem very busy this evening, Mr. Jefferson,” she said.

I nodded curtly.

“It seems your club is doing wonderful business. It’s packed here,” she said.

“Obsessions is doing very well, thank you. Now if there’s nothing else you’d like to discuss, I have a great deal of work to -”

“There is one little thing I was curious about, if you don’t mind my asking…”

I looked up from my paperwork, feigning annoyance.

“Well, I suppose if you won’t allow me to focus on my work until you get every last one of your questions answered. So, go ahead. What is it you’d like to know Ms. Madsen?”

I assumed she was like everyone else and wanted me to provide the gruesome details of how I got my scar, etc… What she actually said caught me completely by surprise.

“Are you afraid of me, Mr. Jefferson?”

As I pressed the pencil down upon the paper, it snapped in half between my fingers like a dry twig. I threw it out in the dustbin under my desk and grabbed another one from the drawer.

“I’m not afraid of you or anyone else.”

“Then why are you so nervous around me?”

“I am not nervous. I simply have a tremendous amount of work to do, Ms. Madsen.”

“Call me Cassandra please.”

“I’d rather not.”

“As you wish…”

Ms. Madsen sidled slowly around my desk and sat on its edge in close proximity to me. I momentarily put the pencil down and involuntarily breathed in her musky feminine scent.

“If you’re not afraid of me or nervous Mr. Jefferson, why did you look so uncomfortable when I touched your cheek earlier?”

I backed up my executive chair slightly to gain some space from her.

“I was actually wondering about that. Why did you touch my cheek Ms. Madsen? Do you enjoy flirting with the deformed?”

Ms. Madsen leaned over, picked up the pencil and wrote a note on a blank sheet of paper. It read:

“I wanted to flirt with you because I find you extremely attractive, Mr. Jefferson.”

After reading her message, I wrote her a note of my own.

“Then perhaps you need to have your eyes examined, Ms. Madsen.”

She chuckled and leaned forward, brushing her breast lighting against my shoulder, sending a delightful chill up and down my spine. I never experienced anything quite like that sensation, not even during my courtship with Bette. She picked up the pencil.

“I find you physically attractive not despite your appearance, but because of it, Sir,” she wrote.

I stared down at the paper, reading but not understanding the words. How could it be that this woman was attracted to me? Was it some sort of joke? Was she being paid by one of the patrons to flirt with me for some reason? Out of pity perhaps?

She reached out with her hand, brushed her fingers through my hair and looked me deep in my eyes. Was she trying to seduce me? Me? I felt nervous, averting my eyes from her gaze and looking over her shoulder to see if her Dom had returned. I slid back on my chair and made a move to stand up.

“Please don’t get up Jim…” she whispered.

As before, Ms. Madsen placed her palm over the scar on my cheek in an almost sacred manner, as if she could by some miracle sweep the slash away with her healing touch. As before, I felt my eyelids grow heavy in response to the soft touch of her palm making contact with the chasm on my face. Though I fought the impulse, I could not stop my eyes from closing this time at her touch.