Chapter 1 - Joe's Truck
"Axel's Auto," Joe Axel said into the shop phone.
"Hey Joe, it's Kristal."
"Hey Sis. Are you in town?"
"No. Which is why I'm calling."
"What's the problem?" Joe asked. When Kristal called, there was usually a problem. He frowned as Kristal launched into a complicated explanation of the events that had left her friend Amanda stranded in Nashville, her luggage destroyed, and unable to obtain a rental car.
"Kris," Joe interrupted. "What do you really want?" he asked, already suspecting her answer.
"Can you take her to Atlanta, by way of Huntsville? And maybe stop along the way so she can pick up a few things?" Kristal asked.
"Is this a joke? You do know I run a business here, right? Plus, it's already 3:00."
"I also know you go all over the state for parts, or wrecks, or tools, and that you go up to Louisville, or down to Birmingham all the time. Amanda needs help, Joe. She's had a rough time."
"In other words, you're setting us up," Joe said, irritation plain in his voice.
"Of course I am. And if you don't like it, hand the job off to one of your minions..."
"They're my employees, not my lackeys, damn it!"
"Hey, that's a record. We've been talking for almost five minutes, and that was your first swear word," Kristal said.
"Ha ha. Very funny. I'm at work, trying to present a professional appearance, which you are straining with this bullshit."
"Do you have a ride you can lend her?"
Joe heard something in his sister's voice, a hint of desperate concern not usually present in one of her schemes.
"I've been meaning to go to Atlanta and look at some tow trucks, might as well do it tomorrow."
He heard a click. The pause lasted so long he thought Kristal had hung up. Finally, she spoke. "Really? Thank you, awesome kid brother."
"Yeah, well don't get used to it. I'm not a fu- effing taxi. Speaking of which, does your pal..."
"Amanda," Kristal said.
"...yeah, Amanda, need me to fetch her, or can she get here all by herself?"
"She's taking a cab."
"Great," Joe said. "And Kris? No more set ups. I'm not interested." He hung up, missing the passionate argument Kristal made in her defense.
After hanging up, and thinking over his schedule, Joe told his crew what was going on, and who was in charge for the rest of the day and the next day too.
Through the large window in the shop's waiting room, Joe watched a taxi pull up. A woman exited with only a purse. Joe thought she looked a little worried, and maybe vulnerable. She was also attractive in the girl next door way. Blue jeans and a red blouse did not hide her athletic build. Her streaked blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail. As she got closer, Joe saw she wore running shoes, which made her about average height for her age, which he guessed was around thirty.
On the other hand, Joe thought, this woman could be a prospective customer and not Amanda.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" Joe said.
"Joe?" she said, looking at the name tag on his shirt. "I'm Amanda." She extended her hand, and Joe shook it. Her grip was warm and strong.
"Kristal said to expect you. I'll pull the truck around." Joe left her standing at the front counter, attracting furtive glances from the mechanics in the repair bays.
The late model dark blue Ford F250 pulled right up to the door. Amanda hesitated, and Joe lowered the passenger side window and leaned over.
"You still need a ride? If you'd rather drive yourself to Atlanta, I'm sure I can find you a car," Joe said, not voicing his personal preference that she accept the borrowed car offer.
Amanda approached the truck and opened the door, using the built in step to climb into the cab.
"Kris said you need to replace the stuff you lost. Where first?" Joe said.
"Is there a department store on the way? Something nicer than Walmart if you can," she said.
"There's a big mall at Cool Springs. Right off the interstate."
The Cool Springs Galleria was only a short distance away. Joe drove in silence, watching the road while Amanda watched him.
"Kristal said you don't talk much."
"That was nice of her to say," Joe replied. A few more minutes passed in silence.
"Joe, I could really use some mindless chatter right now. These last few hours have worn me down," Amanda said.
"Feel free. I'm listening, but we're almost there," he said, spinning the wheel to turn onto the access road. "Where do you want to start?"
"What I meant was, would you mind talking to me?" she said with a nervous laugh. "And Macy's would be fine."
Joe snagged a parking space near the door. Amanda climbed out, but when Joe made no move to exit, she said, "Will you come with me?"
"You'd actually be more comfortable with me around while you shop, than if I was out here in the truck?" Joe asked.
"Yes. I know we just met, but I don't want to be alone right now."
They walked in together. Amanda tried on jeans and a little black dress to check the fit, but grabbed panties, bras, and blouses with just a look at the labels.
"They have the same brands I buy back home," she said.
"And where is home, Amanda?" Amanda said in a mock deep voice.
"Houston, Joe. Thanks for asking," Amanda said. "What about you? Are you from Nashville? Live here all your life?"
"Are we back to your need for mindless chatter?" Joe asked.
"Yes. Maybe I just want to feel like a human and not a piece of freight getting lugged from point A to point B."
The first reply that came to Joe was exactly that, but he held his tongue. Instead, he asked, "Are you from Houston or is it just where you live now?"
"It's been home for the last couple years."
"So...?"
"So what?"
"Are you really going to make me ask every question?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Where are you from? Where did you grow up?"
Amanda laughed. "I asked you first."
"I don't like talking about myself."
"Are you in witness protection or something?" Amanda asked.
"Something like that," Joe said.
Amanda looked at him, uncertainty obvious on her face. He rolled his eyes and his lips twitched up, barely.
"That's the first time I've seen you smile," Amanda said.
"I am not a merry man."
Joe did smile at the look on Amanda's face, though she had to look fast to catch it.
"You're good at that, even if you do look as grim as death," she said.
"Is that what Kris called me? Grim?"
"No. She said guarded but likable if you warm up to me."
"Ah. Where to now?" Joe asked.
"One of the cosmetics counters. I have the basics in my bag, but I still need to get a few things. Don't worry, I know exactly what I need."
On the way there, they detoured into the shoe department and Amanda picked out a pair of black pumps and a pair of low heel lug sole boots.
"That was very efficient," Joe said as they left the mall with her new belongings packed in luggage instead of bags.
"Still too long. Nearly two hours, and I have two more stops to make. Can you take me to a drug store or grocery store near by?"
At the drug store, Joe browsed the snack selection while Amanda shopped. The stop barely took fifteen minutes.
"You didn't get any chips?" Amanda asked as they left.
"That shit'll kill you," Joe said. He stopped in his tracks and looked up. "Apologies. That was rude of me."
"Well, yes, but it's nice to know you're actually human."
"I have a foul mouth. I try to keep it in check, especially in polite company," Joe said, frowning.
"Lighten up, Joe. Thank you for your consideration, but don't beat yourself up for not being perfect," Amanda said.
"Thanks. Let's go. Kris said you need to stop in Huntsville. Any other stops I should know about? We're going to be pretty late getting into Atlanta."
"That's it," Amanda said.
The truck hummed along, picking up speed as they headed south, Nashville receding behind them. Silence reigned for fifteen minutes before Amanda spoke.
"You never did tell me where you're from," she said.
"But I did tell you I don't like talking about myself," Joe said.
"Then tell me about fixing cars, or what you like about Nashville, or your sideline of rescuing damsels in distress," Amanda said.
Joe looked at her, a sidelong glance. "You don't strike me as the type that usually needs rescuing."
"Thank you, I think. It has been an exceptionally awful day, and I appreciate you doing so much for me," Amanda said.
"You know Kris isn't just being a helpful friend, right? She's trying to set us up," Joe said. Giggles were not the reaction he expected.
"Duh, Joe. She's your big sister. I think it's in the manual."
He tried again. "It doesn't bother you at all that Kris threw us together as much to jump start someone's love life as to get you to Atlanta?"
"Not really," Amanda shrugged. "My love life, as you say, could use a push right now, and it's not like we don't have a say."
Suddenly uncomfortable, Joe changed the subject. "How do you know Kris?"
"We met in LA," Amanda said without further elaboration.
Joe stopped talking, not really interested in verbal sparring over exchanging personal histories with someone who would be gone in a few hours. The tires hummed as they cruised southward.
Fifteen minutes later, Amanda asked, "Can you really go the whole trip in silence?"
"Pretty much," Joe answered.
"I'd rather not, if you don't mind," Amanda said.
"You have a captive audience," Joe said.
Amanda laughed, and Joe turned to look at her. "It wasn't that funny?"
"I thought so," Amanda said as Joe turned his full attention back to the road. "Will you answer my questions if I answer yours?"
"Probably. I reserve the right to remain silent."
"Fair enough. I'm originally from Iowa. I moved to LA with my theatre degree, planning to take the world by storm," Amanda said. "What about you?"
"I'm from a wide spot in the road east of Nashville. I grew up working on trucks and tractors, the occasional car, pretty much anything with moving parts. I lasted a year in college before bailing. I moved to Nashville and started planning my own garage," Joe said.
"Looks like your plan worked out better than mine," Amanda said.
"Maybe I just aimed a lot lower," Joe said. "Besides, I had a few bumps on the road."
"Bumps you're not going to tell me about? Can I guess?"
"I think it's your turn to share," Joe said. "How'd you meet Kris?"
"I was at a party. Supposedly, a bunch of good contacts were going to be there and I managed to get on the invite list. I think Kris was there for the same reason. I never did find out. We dodged a lot of come-ons, got a few numbers, and became friends in the process."
Joe side eyed his passenger. "I've heard some stories about Kristal's time in LA. A lot of them start with a party."
"Well, even if I had such alleged details, they aren't mine to share," Amanda said. She turned to Joe, pursing her lips with an air of exaggerated primness.
Joe laughed, feeling at ease with Amanda for the first time since they met.
"That's a good rule. I like it," Joe said. "More people should have rules like that."
"I know you don't know me, but that rule would apply to you too. What's said in Joe's truck stays in Joe's truck," Amanda said.
"Valerie," Joe said.
"Who? The woman who did you wrong?" Amanda asked.
"My truck. You can call her Val for short. I think she's okay with that," Joe said.
"Well, thank you, Joe and Val, for helping a total stranger," Amanda said. They rolled on in silence for a while.
"It was a really bad scene," Joe said, eyes still fixed on the road ahead.
Amanda sat up, focused entirely on Joe. "Scene?" she asked.
"Yeah. A very public breakup. Lots of friends there." Joe blew out a long breath. "People I thought were friends. I was so stupid. Kris was there too, which saved me and made it that much worse at the same time."
"How long ago was all this?" Amanda asked.
Joe turned his head slightly, dividing his attention between the road and his passenger.
"You a shrink, Amanda? How much did Kristal tell you?"
"I'm not a shrink, and Kristal didn't tell me anything that I haven't already told you," Amanda said.
"Sorry. I just know she's up to something that's going to piss me off."
"Who? Your sister or the mystery ex?" Amanda asked.
Joe laughed. "Kristal. Definitely Kristal. She thinks she knows best for everyone. Be careful. She'll try to marry you off to someone else when I don't pan out."
Joe changed the subject before Amanda could ask more questions.
"First Huntsville exit coming up. Can you give me some directions to the next stop?"
Amanda checked her phone, directing Joe to take the exit. They spent the next hour immersed in driving, directions, and Amanda's GPS, before finally arriving at a deceptively small looking house on a hillside in the southern end of the city.
"I still think it would have been quicker to stay on 65," Joe said as he exited the truck.
"My app said traffic was backed up between the interstate and the airport," Amanda said as they approached the front porch. Late spring floral scents filled the air, and Joe sneezed just as the front door opened and they were invited into the house.
"Bless you," the man said. "You made good time, Miss Haile. It is nice to meet you," he said, shaking Amanda's hand.
He turned to Joe. "Carl Wilson." He held his hand out as Joe struggled not to sneeze again.
"Joe Axel."
Joe missed Carl's widening eyes. Carl quickly regained control of his expression and turned to Amanda.
"Miss Haile, I have your entire order packed and ready, and almost everything you needed to replace following your unfortunate accident," Carl said, nodding at two hard shelled shipping cases.
Amanda turned to Joe. "I hate to ask, but could you help me get the boxes settled in the truck?"
Joe didn't answer. He stared at one of the cases, black hard shell with a large gold letter Q crossed by a gold key. Then he looked around, studying the neutral color scheme of the front hall, the unremarkable prints on the walls, and the closed doors along the length of the hall before silently turning back to Carl.
"You're the Quartermaster?” Joe said in a barely audible growl.
"Joe?" Amanda said.
Joe turned to Amanda. “Which means you're a domme, of course?” His eyes narrowed to slits as he inhaled sharply. “That fucking bitch,” Joe said. He turned, stepping onto the porch as he pulled out his phone.
Amanda moved to follow, but Carl put his hand on her shoulder. She turned, but before she could express her annoyance at being grabbed, Carl spoke.
"You didn't know? Who you were traveling with?"
She was interrupted a second time, now by Joe's angry shouts from the front porch.
"Stay the fuck out of my life you chickenshit. Don't call. Don't write. And for fuck sake don't you ever try to visit!"
The yelling ended with a loud crack and Amanda turned to see two halves of a smart phone clatter to the wood planks of Carl's front porch. Joe sat down on the top step and leaned against a post.
Amanda stepped out, Carl close behind her. Amanda's phone chirped, but she silenced it.
"I'm leaving now," Joe said. "I'll still take you to Atlanta if you want, or back to Nashville, or anywhere in between. No questions asked. I don't want to know who you are, what you're doing, or where you're going next. That's the deal."
"Joe, I don't understand. What's going on?" Amanda asked.
"No questions asked, Amanda," Joe repeated. "I thought you didn't meet people in person, Wilson. If I'd known, I'd have saved your handiwork to return to you. They performed so admirably."
"I'm truly sorry, Mr. Axel..."
"Can the shit. I don't hold it against you." Joe said. He got to his feet and dusted off his jeans.
"Wait! I need to get my stuff, if the offer still stands," Amanda said.
"Miss Haile, I can..."
"No. I trust Joe. He won't break his word. Please help me get my boxes," Amanda said.
They wrestled the heavy rolling crates into the truck bed and tied them down while Joe waited in the driver's seat.
Carl walked Amanda to the passenger door. "I can text you the story if you want. You should know what you are getting into,"
"Later. I'd like to hear it from him first," Amanda said.
"From what I know, hell will freeze solid before you get it from him. Good luck, Miss Haile," Carl said as he opened the door for her.
Chapter 2 - Amanda's Ride
She halfway expected to depart with an engine roar and the squeal of spinning tires, but Joe eased out of the driveway and onto the neighborhood street as if he did not have a white knuckled death grip on the steering wheel.
"You're hurting her," Amanda said after a few minutes.
"What? Who?"
"Valerie. You're about to bend the steering wheel," Amanda said.
Joe looked down at his hands and gradually relaxed his grip. "I'm taking 231 south to 36 to get back to I-65. I only know one way to get to Atlanta. If you would look up directions to your destination, that would be helpful."
"The Plaza Hotel, downtown off Peachtree, near Georgia Tech. It's hosting a new con called Fetteration," Amanda started explaining.
“I don't want to know,” Joe said.
Amanda retrieved her phone to get directions. “Kristal has called me eight times and sent me five texts.”
“I would thank you for not calling her while you're with me,” Joe said.
“Can I text her and let her know we're alright?”
“Whatever.”
Amanda busied herself with the phone for a few minutes, finally getting Kristal to agree to leave them alone for a while.
“She...”
“I don't care, and I don't want to hear any more about her. Ever,” Joe said. "It's about four more hours to Atlanta. Why don't you get some sleep?"
Amanda laughed. "After all this," she waved her arms. "I doubt sleep is really in the cards. Besides, you just don't want to talk, or listen to me, or have me ask annoying follow up questions."
Joe remained silent.
"But you aren't mad at me," Amanda said. "Are you?"
"I'm mad at myself for being such a sucker, and I'm furious with Kris for being a manipulative know it all bitch who doesn't listen to what I want," Joe said, glaring at Amanda for a moment before turning back to the road.
"Are you really never speaking to her again? People say stuff like that, but you're the first person I've met who could probably actually do it," Amanda said.
"Don't be an ass kissing suck up."
"Wow. What happened to not swearing in polite company? I guess something changed. What could that be?" Amanda said, Joe did not rise to her bait.
"Really, Joe. We seemed to be getting along so well those last sixty miles or so." Amanda paused, working it out in her head.
"And then you figured out that I'm in the scene, and now I'm not polite company anymore. So that bad scene you mentioned before, it wasn't just a bad breakup? Was that a slip of the tongue or were you testing me?"
Joe's hands had resumed their earlier death grip on the wheel. The muscles in his forearms stood out beneath his skin. Amanda decided to change direction.
"What gave it away?" she asked.
"Wilson's house smelled like a leather shop. My nose was messed up and my eyes were watering, but once we were inside for a minute..." Joe let the words trail away.
"And then you saw his little trademark on my case and everything fell into place," Amanda said.
"Congratulations, Sherlock. You solved the mystery. Now will you please just shut up and leave me alone!" Joe said.
"You forgot to swear at me," Amanda teased.
Joe kept his eyes locked to the road and the traffic heading south.
"In six hours we could be at the beach," he said. "I haven't had a vacation in years. A bunch of us went to the Gulf after graduation. We had saved for two years to take that trip and we still barely scraped by."
"Are you asking me to go to the beach with you, Joe?"
"Oh, fuck no. I'm just reminiscing about a time when my simple little life held no interest to the deviant, psychologically damaged, sick, fucked up bastards of the world," Joe said without looking over at his target.
Amanda recoiled in her seat, pressing into the door. Joe's vitriolic indictment stung her as no barrage of foul language could have.
"I'm sorry, Joe. For whatever incident so colored your opinion of me, sight unseen. It must have been awful. From the way Carl reacted to you, I suspect a fight was involved too."
"Those psych electives are coming in handy, aren't they? I took one, in my two semesters of college. I made a B," Joe said.
"You can stop trying to hurt me, Joe..."
"Then you can stop trying to be my damn friend, shut your pie hole, and just look out the window. I don't want to talk, commiserate, therapize, understand, fall in love, patch things up with my bitch sister, or explore my conflicted feelings about the kink world. Did I leave anything out? No! Don't answer that."
Amanda sat in silence for another ten miles.
"What happened?"
"Ask around at your con. Or call Kris or Carl Wilson," Joe said.
"The short version is you got hurt and burned every bridge you could set ablaze," Amanda said. "Is there anything you miss, Joe? Would it help to see a scene that doesn't end up hurting someone? Do you still have any unresolved feelings or fantasies from those times?"
"Yeah," he said after a minute of quiet. "But, you know, fantasies like that are just," he paused. "Some things are just unrealizable. They have to stay fantasy."
"Well, yes, that is often the nature of such thoughts," she said. "I'd like to hear it anyway, if that's not too personal."
He barked a laugh. "You've weaseled a ride, a shopping expedition, and half of my history out of me, and now you're worried about getting too personal? You've got a lot of nerve and a juicy fucking sense of humor!"
He lapsed into silence again, brow furrowed and eyes narrow. Another few minutes passed, and he spoke again.
"I'm with a woman, a dominant woman. She's absolutely full of herself. Aware of how beautiful she is. Aware of her effect on men. Arrogant and used to getting her way. Possibly a little bored with it all.
"We're in some public setting, like a restaurant or a park, so no shenanigans, and she's asking me tons of questions. She's basically learning my limits and negotiating a scene with me without explicitly saying it. She just assumes that when she has it all constructed in her head, I'll just fall into her scheme like some lamb going to the slaughter.
"But still, she has to ask, you know? I have to say yes to her plan and concede victory to her desire. You know how those dommie types are. So she gets to that defining moment. She says something like 'Joe, won't you come and do blah blah blah for me? You will love it, I just know.'
"And I am pulled toward her, as if she has gravity or something. My eyes are soft and wet with submission. My lips are parted. My face draws near to hers and I scream NO FUCKING WAY!”
The sound filled the closed space of the cab, dying away slowly. Joe continued talking as though he hadn't just tried to blow out the windows with his voice.
“Straight into her face so loud that her hair blows back and she bleeds from her eyes and ears. I just don't really think I can scream loud enough to actually do that. So, it remains just a silly little fantasy," Joe said. He didn't turn to look at Amanda, who sat perfectly still, facing him across the space between their seats. They sat like that for minutes as the miles rolled on beneath the truck's humming tires.
"What was her name? The woman who hurt you so badly?" Amanda finally asked. Her voice was gentle, and genuine.
Joe turned slightly, keeping his eyes partially on the quiet stretch of interstate.
"Shouldn't you be asking me to drop you off at the next exit?" he asked.
"Who was she, Joe?"
"You really, really, don't want to go there," he said.
Amanda heard no threat, felt no danger, but something in Joe's voice and demeanor told her the subject was truly, permanently, closed.
"I'm getting hungry and I have to pee," she said. "Is there anyplace nearby where we can get a bite to eat?"
"What about that Waffle House?" Joe said, pointing to a sign as he swung the truck into the exit lane.
"Waffle House?"
"It's not a Parisian cafe, but the food is decent. There's also a Subway, a Jack's, and the usual burger places. Or, I can get back on the interstate and you can find a place to your liking," Joe said.
"Waffles it is, I guess," Amanda said.
Dinner went quickly and quietly, and after another round of bathroom visits, they were back on the road. Amanda felt some of the tension drain away from the space between them.
The rest of the trip passed in near silence. Amanda didn't speak again until Joe pulled the truck into the half circle drive in front of the Plaza's lobby.
"Thank you, Joe. I wish there was a way I could return the favor. I make a good friend. It's too late to drive back tonight. Let me get you a room at least?" Amanda said.
Joe laughed. "They'd shit bricks if they thought I'd be staying here tonight. I'll be fine. Go check in and see if there's someone who can get your stuff. I'll wait."
Amanda nodded and left. Despite the hour, after midnight local time, the lobby was busy with guests checking in or asking questions. Amanda felt out of place in jeans and sneakers. The clerks behind the counter all wore leather halter tops. While she waited, she saw one slip out from behind the counter on an errand. She wore a matching leather mini-skirt, black nylons, and heels. Amanda also noticed the white and orange lanyard holding a white and orange bordered ID proclaiming the wearer as Hotel Staff.
Clearly, the hotel had been bought completely out for the Fetteration convention, and provisions must have been made to bring in kink friendly employees or temps. Multiple, prominent, signs enumerated the rules, the top one being only registered con guests allowed on the premises.
A group of dominants stood near a posted schedule of events. Their stances and attitudes proclaimed their orientation as much as their leather and boots and accessories. Amanda could see they were deep in discussion. The group was mixed, men and women, but no subs. She briefly wondered what cruel test the subs might be undergoing, or maybe the doms had come here to find subs, she wondered.
As she checked in, Amanda had one question. “I don't see any porters, and all the luggage carts are gone. A friend drove me here. Can he help me get my stuff up to my room?”
“Sure, as long as he's not staying,” the clerk said, handing Amanda a white bordered visitor's pass on a white lanyard. “Put yours on now, and have your friend give that back to me on his way out. Print the name in the visitor's log.”
Amanda wondered at all the color coding as she slipped the red lanyard over her head, settling the red bordered badge around her neck. The woman handed Amanda another envelope and a bag of assorted small gifts for being a charter member of Fetteration.
“Your visitor is technically a temporary registered guest of the con. All the rules apply to him. The white badge and lanyard mean 'hands off' but he is also not allowed to play or be an ass or...” She fell silent.
“Joe Axel?” she said. “That name rings a bell.” She scanned another list on a clipboard. “But he's not on the blacklist, so carry on. Next guest please!”
Returning to the idling truck, Amanda walked around to the driver's side window and climbed up on the step.
"You need help with your stuff because all the bellhops, porters, drug mules, and slaves are otherwise occupied," Joe said before she could ask.
"Could you at least help me get them down from Val's bed? After that I will stand on the curb and wave farewell with a dainty handkerchief as you drive off west to the new world," Amanda said.
Joe stared at her with an expression so flat, she thought he was actually angry.
"That was good. There's hope for you yet," he said. Joe exited the truck and easily unloaded Amanda's assorted luggage to the curb. "Wait here."
Joe parked the truck in a nearby check in only spot and returned, grabbing one handle on a rolling case and a shoulder bag. He let Amanda loop the white lanyard over his head.
"If you think I'm dragging all this shit in for you, prepare for disappointment," Joe said.
"No. Of course not," Amanda said, picking up her other bags and taking the other Quartermaster case's handle. They walked through the lobby toward a bank of elevators. The lobby was even more crowded than before. Near the doors, a trio of dommes sat in a conversational grouping, feet propped up on nearly naked submissives doing their best imitation of foot stools.
Almost as one, the line of guests waiting to speak to a harried clerk turned to look at Amanda and Joe as they walked in side by side. Amanda looked at Joe and saw his jaws clenched and face set like stone. His eyes were locked onto the one other normal looking person in the room, a blonde in a red dress, white nylons, and ballet flats. Her hair tumbled down her back in a mass of curls. She clutched a black briefcase in her left hand.
As they approached the elevators, the blonde woman turned to look at them.
"Oh, shit," Joe said.
"Joe Axel," the woman said, beaming. "I thought I'd see the pope here before I saw you again!"
"He just pulled in, Melody. Why don't you go to confession?"
"I want my gear back, Joe. I was quite fond of those cuffs."
"You'll need a submarine you two faced cum breathed piece of shit. They're at the bottom of Lake Superior."
"You repartee has improved since our last encounter, Joe."
"Fuck you, Mel."
"There's the Joe I know and love," Melody said as the elevator doors slid open. "You two go on. I can see you have your hands full," Melody said, stepping aside to let the two pass.
Joe and Amanda entered the car. As the doors closed, Melody blocked them with her arms.
"I'd keep him on a real short leash,” Melody paused to look at Amanda's badge, “Mistress Amanda. He bites," Melody snapped her teeth shut for emphasis. She let the doors close before Amanda could reply.
"So that's her," Amanda said to Joe. His face had gone white and the handle of the case he held creaked ominously from the force of his grip.
"That cocksucker Wilson must have been on the phone the second we left Huntsville," Joe said. "That greasy douche weasel. No wonder he preferred to stay anonymous."
"Joe," Amanda said.
"What!?!" His screamed reply rang her ears. For the first time since meeting him, Amanda was genuinely afraid.
Joe leaned against the elevator car wall as the floor numbers chimed by. "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that."
"Thank you, Joe," Amanda said, raising her hand to touch Joe's shoulder.
Joe looked at her hand as though a particularly disgusting smell emanated from it. "But don't expect me to hug you or anything," he said as the doors opened onto her floor.
Once in her suite, she collapsed onto the small sofa in the sitting area. "What a weird, wonderful, freakish, amazing day," Amanda said.
"Speak for yourself. I've got another six hours to go," Joe said.
"This is a two bedroom suite. You can stay here tonight and light out for the hills at dawn," Amanda said.
"You're serious," Joe said. "Have you been paying attention? I am not welcome here. A feeling which is entirely mutual. If my darling sister had asked me to take the day off of work, pick up some fetish gear at the fucking Quartermaster's, and carry a dominatrix to a kink festival, I'd have suggested she stick her head up her own ass. If I had known who you were when I met you at the garage, I'd have given you the keys to a car, filled the tank with gas, washed the windows, and put a cooler full of Moon Pies and RC Colas in the front seat just to get you out the door."
"That's not fair, Joe!"
"The fair is where young kids in love go to blow their money on cotton candy and rickety rides," Joe said.
"I'm not talking about life. I'm talking about you, Joe. Do you really think I'm some kind of monster? You spent a whole day with me, and I spent a whole day with you not knowing your history. It wasn't like I stayed in the closet out of fear of you. I am more than all this, dammit." Amanda waved her hands at the room as she spoke.
Joe looked at the floor for a few seconds before looking up. "Yeah. It was a good day, mostly, but now it's time to go back to reality. I can't get past this," he said, rapping his knuckles on the Quartermaster packing case. "You may be fun loving, waffle eating Amanda, or concerned and compassionate Miss Haile, but somewhere in there is dommie Amanda, and she and me aren't going to get along."
"What happened, Joe?"
"Bad shit. You'll have to hear it from someone else. Now, I'm out..."
The TV flickered to life, loudly playing a Fetteration safety notice: "Fetteration guests, an unregistered person has been reported on the premises in violation of Fetteration guest policies. For your safety, please remain in your room, outside the hotel, or in one of the common areas. Please do not leave these designated areas until the all clear is given."
The announcement repeated in several languages. Amanda's phone chimed, alerting her to a text containing the same alert.
"No! I got you a visitor's pass!" Amanda said, searching through her Fetteration info pack. She blanched as she read.
"They're going to kick us out," she said. "How could I be so damn stupid?"
"I'll leave now and you can tell them I got pissed and took off half an hour ago," Joe said.
Amanda shook her head. "I'm responsible for you. If you left, I would have called the desk immediately."
She looked at him, crestfallen but suddenly determined. "Take off your clothes and sit in that chair," she said. Her voice had an air of command Joe had not heard during their day together.
"No."
"Do it, Joe. There's an exception for a sub visitor who decides to become a registered sub guest. I'll tie you to the chair long enough to pass inspection and then you can go."
"No. Not now. Not ever. Never again."
Amanda took a half step toward him, intending to grab his hand and plead her case. Joe took a half step backwards and reached into his pocket, retrieving a short metal bar. He flicked his wrist and the bar telescoped into a fighting baton.
"I have an alternate plan," Joe said. "It involves a trail of unconscious goons and a lot of broken bones. Go lock yourself in the other room and tell them I freaked out when you opened one of the Quartermaster cases. You couldn't reach the room phone because you were holding the door and you left your cell on the table."
"Joe. I trusted you. I still do. Trust me now."
Joe shook his head and moved toward the door. Amanda watched him move, coiled up energy and anticipation.
"You really want to fight," she said.
"Yeah. Go lock yourself in the bedroom," Joe said.
"No. Get in the chair right now, Mr. Axel," Amanda said sternly. "I've had a topsy turvy trip to get here, and I'm in no mood for more aggravation."
He grinned. "Your dommie mind tricks won't work on me, Amanda."
Amanda rolled her eyes. "Joe, please. They'll hurt you if they can and call the cops if they can't. Just do what I asked."
Joe stared at Amanda. "You really do care about them."
"I don't know them. I care about you," Amanda said.
Voices in the hallway told them their time was up.
"I have an idea." Joe collapsed the baton and returned it to his pocket. "When they get here, keep it simple. We were talking and I started freaking out. You were scared, but you thought you had it under control. You checked your watch but forgot Atlanta's an hour ahead of Houston."
Joe sat in the chair Amanda had indicated earlier, pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around them. He started rocking gently back and forth, right before someone knocked on the door.
A short time later a pale Joe and a visibly shaken Amanda were in the lobby, face to face with the con admins who were in the process of revoking Amanda's pass. They were flanked by four men, all bigger than Joe, but nervous looking despite their advantage. A crowd of onlookers had also gathered.
"Excuse me, mister?” Joe said to the tall male admin in motorcycle leathers.
"Master Wolf."
Joe shook his head, flinging beads of sweat with the motion. "Mister Master Wolf? Don't take this out on Amanda. It was my fault."
"I'm not in the mood for your bullshit, Axel. You spoiled the con for Mistress Amanda, and I'm not letting you ruin it for the rest of our guests."
"She was trying to help me because I asked her to!" Joe said. "I asked her about doing a session."
The room turned still and silent.
"You what?" said the woman next to Wolf, who called herself Goddess Mojave.
"I spent a whole day with her, riding in my truck. And she seemed okay, you know. And I realized how much I've missed certain things in my old life." Joe fell silent.
"Go on," Goddess Mojave said.
"After we carried in her gear, and I had her alone again, I asked about a session. Something a newbie might do, nothing challenging. I assumed she knew... knew about... you know. She knows Kristal, so I thought..."
"You thought she knew the details of your peculiar history. I get it. You have a certain amount of notoriety in our community, but you aren't as famous as you might think," the woman said. "What happened next?"
"She started outlining some potential scenes, asked me some questions, started talking about limits," Joe said. "The longer she talked, the more I realized I had made a mistake. I can't do this."
"Did you threaten Mistress Amanda?" Master Wolf demanded.
"No! Never! But I got jittery and I think I was babbling. I think I scared Amanda..."
"Mistress Amanda," Master Wolf said.
"Yeah. Her."
"You can't even say it, can you?" Goddess Mojave said gently. She took a step toward Joe, and he twitched, feet moving into a fighting stance. Two of the security detail stepped toward him.
"Stop," Goddess Mojave said. "If he was going to hurt someone, I think he would have shot you four when you entered Mistress Amanda's suite." She looked at Joe. “You are carrying, yes? One in the waistband and another on your ankle. Two knives, a can of pepper spray, a telescoping club, and,” she smiled, trying to put Joe at ease, “maybe some grenades?”
“I left the grenades at home,” Joe said.
The men stopped, but all four of them now had their hands inside their jackets.
"And your run in with Mistress Melody tonight?" she said, putting no small amount of disdain into Melody's name.
"Running into Mel didn't cross my mind until it actually happened," Joe said.
"And how do you feel about her?" Mojave asked.
"I hate her, and I wish I had killed her when I had the chance.”
"Fuck me," one of the guards said under his breath.
The man received glares from both doms. "Indeed," Mojave said. "And yet she walked away from tonight's encounter unscathed. How is that?"
"I don't understand," Joe said.
"You could have murdered Mistress Melody a dozen times over and gotten away in the confusion. Why didn't you do it?" Goddess Mojave said.
Joe's eyes widened. "That would be wrong," he said.
"Hmm. So what should we do with you now?"
"Throw me out and tell me you never want to see me again," Joe said without hesitation.
"That doesn't sound like much of a punishment," the woman said. "Please Mojave, don't throw me into the briar patch! Maybe you should watch while Master Wolf takes a strap to your Mistress Amanda's shapely ass. Unless you want to take her place?"
Amanda's eyes and mouth popped open. All four guards shifted, ready to react to whatever was about to happen. Joe's face reddened, looking hot enough to steam.
"She's not my mistress anything, and I don't like to see people get hurt, though I'm about to make an exception to that rule."
"That will do, you two. Does he pass the test, dear?" Wolf said.
"Yes. I believe he does. You may leave, Mr. Axel. Mistress Amanda may stay without restriction. I will leave the future to attend to itself. Perhaps we will see you again under less stressful circumstances. Do you have anything to add, Master Wolf?"
"Only this. I heard about the fight with your sister. Call Kristal and patch things up, Axel. Family is too important to leave hanging in the breeze."
Joe looked at the two admins. "Done." He stuck his hand out but looked surprised when Wolf shook it. Joe turned and walked out of the huddle and out the door.
"Thank you," Amanda said.
"You realize you dodged a major bullet tonight, right? And I'm not talking about getting kicked out of the con," Mojave said. "That boy could have twisted your head off, if you had really scared him."
"I saw no indication of that level of defensiveness all day," Amanda said.
"And did you really try to set up a scene with him?" Wolf asked.
"Yes," Amanda said, counting her request to bind him as setting up a scene, and glad she didn't have to lie.
"We should start a pool on how much time passes before he calls you," Wolf said.
"I'm in. Put me down for a million years," Amanda said.
"Very funny. You are free to go. Enjoy your time at Fetteration," Wolf said.
Chapter 3 - Melody's Story
Instead of returning to her room for some much needed sleep, Amanda entered one of the Plaza's several bars and sat down, ordering a martini. She was almost done with her second drink when Melody sat down beside her.
"That was the most amazing performance I think I've ever seen. Which one of you thought that bullshit up? Masterful!"
"I don't know what you are talking about, Melody," Amanda said.
"Suit yourself, babe. I give props where I see talent."
"What do you want?" Amanda said.
"Are you ready to hear the story? The story of noble Joe Axel and the evil piece of shit Mistress Melody Parker."
"Sure," Amanda said. "Why not? Lay it on me."
"We met at college, of course. The first week of Joe's two semester adventure into higher education. I was a grad student. I know it's hard to tell, but I have a few years on Joe. Small world, but I had actually met his sister a few years before. We were in a study group together.”
“And that's it?” Amanda asked.
“Let me tell it. Joe was young and hot and passionate. A little starry eyed at the whole campus thing after growing up in Carthage. He was so tasty, and eager to please, and easy to snare. Almost too easy.
“But he has a capacity for absorbing punishment that I have never seen the equal of. And that made it fun for a while. Of course I didn't just play with him. We were in love. We screwed like bunnies. I lavished attention on him after every session, and all the days in between.
“If you ever do land him in the sack, I hope you like oral, because he will go down on you if you even look like you want it. I never asked, but I think he's one of those guys who thinks an orgasm fixes any problem a woman has.
“Anyway, after a year, it was getting old. He turned into a clingy, needy, doormat. I tried to break it off, but he kept worming and weaseling his way back into my life. So I arranged a session that would break pretty much every limit he had ever stated.”
“Oh shit,” Amanda blurted. “No wonder he hates us.”
“Sugar, he does not hate you. What he did tonight with those admins was out of love. If Wolf hadn't made it part of the deal to bury the hatchet with Kristal, she'd have never heard from Joe again. I know what Joe Axel looks like when he hates someone, trust me," Melody said.
“Why are you telling me this?” Amanda said.
“I have my reasons, which will become clear shortly. Do you want to hear the details or should I just skip the party?” Melody asked.
Amanda signaled for another drink and nodded. “Keep going.”
“I made it my birthday party. And his submission was my birthday gift. I ordered some new leather cuffs, a paddle, a strap, and a couple other toys from Quartermaster. Had some other equipment made up special for the occasion too.” Melody picked up a napkin and sketched absently on it with a chewed up yellow pencil.
“Got a place in Gatlinburg and set it up nice. Food. Beer. Wine. Cake, of course. And a glass wall across the great room to make a viewing gallery. Joe never let me work him over in public, so that was a limit that had to be broken. The wall was thick panels and pretty soundproof too.”
Melody's sketch showed a man bound in a standing spread eagle to the corners of a rectangular frame. She picked up another napkin.
“I woke him up late. Everyone was hiding in the basement by then. I showered with him. Shaved him. Teased him with my mouth. Basically I built him up as much as I could to make the crash as awful as possible. I blindfolded him and fed him breakfast. Then I hooded him, blocking his ears. And, because Joe has the nose of a fucking bloodhound, I made sure to dab a little cologne on the hood near his nostrils.”
The new sketch was of the head and shoulders of a hooded man, blinded and deafened by leather restraints and soft pads. Melody reached over and picked up another napkin.
“The cuffs went on next. Joe got really hard at that. I think he could smell the leather. Plus Carl has some weird savant talent for making that stuff. They melded to Joe like a second skin. I used heavy chain to fasten him to the corners of a very stout custom frame. It even had wheels so I could roll Joe into position, turn him this way and that for the viewing pleasure of my friends.
“He looked amazing stretched out like that.” Melody paused, remembering. “He was so beautiful. I came close to calling the whole thing off right there. He's probably more muscular and buff now, but I don't think that will be an improvement.” She turned away and rubbed her eyes for a moment.
“But I didn't. Instead I signaled my helpers to let the crew up from the basement. They had all given up their cell phones. I'm not a complete bitch. But I had a professional videographer recording the scene.
“Did I mention Kristal was there? She's a switch, if you didn't know already. I never understood that. Like bisexuals and trannies. I know it's considered rude now, but I'm like, pick a fucking side already, you know? Anyway, she was already halfway to a killer hangover. She used to drink like a fish, back in the day.
“So there's poor Joe, strung up for everyone to see. Cock straining straight at my glass wall like a cannon. I warmed him up with a little hand spanking. Joe can take a hand spanking while sound asleep, but I like the color. I moved onto the paddle then. And I worked him over pretty good.”
Melody flicked her latest sketch away, a cock with a bow wrapped around the shaft and balls. She reached over the bar and grabbed a stack of napkins. The bartender glanced up, but didn't move.
“I love the strap. You can do so much with it. Hard to spank or paddle calves, but a strap can't tell a calf muscle from an ass muscle. I started at his calves and worked up. Of course I skipped over the knees. I'm a criminally evil bitch, but I'm not like a nurse or some other sadistic torture freak.
“Then the thighs. He has very muscular legs, which is hard to notice the way he dresses now.
“Let's skip ahead. I'm sure you've seen a thrashing or two in your time, Mistress Amanda. When he was as red as I was going to make him, I started playing with his skin. Kissing. Touching. A little ice. A little heat. My assistants were silently waiting for their chances to play, and I started working them in. But I always made sure only two hands were on him at a given time. I wanted him to think that I was pretending to be multiple people. To feel safe with me.”
“That's so fucked up,” Amanda said.
“Yes. It is. But I did it anyway. We took our sweet time, tormenting his nipples and his cock, such easy targets. We tickled under his arms. I kissed the backs of his knees and tickled his toes. We spread soothing ointment on his hot red hide. Eventually, I let Carissa pinch him quickly while I had two hands on him.
“He sensed something was off right away and squirmed a little. A few minutes later we did it again. Then I stepped back and let Fay and Carissa play. They tried to keep him fooled, but they couldn't be as smooth as me. I stepped up onto the platform and pressed my body against his. After unblocking one of his ears, I told him I had a friend over to share my birthday present. Carissa's a beautiful red haired vixen, and I described her in explicit detail as she ran her hands and mouth over Joe.
“He calmed down and accepted my dominance, just like always. Carissa concentrated on Joe's package, keeping him very close to the edge, and I let Fay join me. He picked that up instantly, and I leaned up again and explained that if one friend is good, then two friends had to be better. Fay is blonde, darker blonde than mine, but still lovely. I made sure he knew how beautiful and talented she was. It took longer, but he calmed down again.”
The sketch she shoved aside was more detailed than the previous ones. A naked woman knelt before the bound man, mouth pleasuring him. Another woman, also naked, with a mane of shaggy hair, knelt behind him, both hands on his ass cheeks. Melody picked up another napkin from her stack and doodled on it.
“After signaling the crowd to be absolutely silent, I had two of my other assistants, big strapping men, remove two of the glass panels. I have to give Joe credit. He stopped and went on alert instantly, sensing something had changed.
“It was such a rush. The crowd was silent and totally entranced. Joe was squirming somewhere between panic and ecstasy. Carissa had Joe at the perfect edge, one hot breath away from blowing his load. Fay grabbed his ass cheeks and spread them, then slopped about a whole tube of lube into Joe's crack. She had the tip of the most realistic dildo I had ever seen pressed right against his tight little asshole.
“Which is when I had one of the guys say 'Happy birthday, Mistress Melody' right behind Joe. He went nuts. His erection was instantly gone. He pulled those chains so hard I though he might actually break something. The leather cuffs creaked like they might give way.”
Melody pushed another napkin aside. This one had a drawing of a bound man straining at his bondage. Amanda couldn't believe the detail Melody portrayed on a napkin with just a pencil.
“I uncovered his eyes then and everyone yelled surprise. He saw Kristal there and just went limp. I thought I had broken him then. She turned and vomited onto some throw pillows.”
“Motherfucker,” Amanda said, slurring the word a little after her third martini.
“I know. I was going to hold up a mirror so he could see that it was just Fay and her dildo behind him, and see if he wanted her to finish what she started. That would have been the emasculating icing on a birthday cake of misery, I thought. But, my minions misunderstood my directions and started unfastening the chains.”
On the napkin, a chain appeared, whipping through the air.
“I meant for them to wait, then unchain him one limb at a time, with refastening to maintain control. He was going to get bent over the table for me to eat my cake off of. I don't know how it got fucked up. Fay and the rest of them were not newbs, but somehow three chains were undone and none of those limbs were secure. I stepped up to reassert control and that minx Kristal shoves my camera guy face first into the wall and grabs his camera, running for the door. Sprinting for the door. The last thing I remember was thinking how beautiful she looked, so purposeful and serene at the same time. Not like a stupid drunk slut at all.”
A fist appeared on the napkin.
“Joe punched me in the face. Or so I'm told. Everything I tell you next is what witnesses have told me.” Melody touched her left cheek, high up. “He broke my face. My jaw. Most of my teeth. My eye socket. One punch and he nearly killed me. He kicked poor Carissa in the ribs, and then while she was rocked back clutching her side, he kicked her in the shoulder. She crashed into another guest. Vince caught a backhanded chain flying through the air at about warp speed. He had enough time to turn his head, so instead of getting his face pureed, he got a cracked skull. As he was dropping, Joe kicked him in the arm, shattering it. I hear Vince can use his hand again now though.”
“Sweet mother...”
“Yeah. That's your new boyfriend, Amanda. Of course he wasn't done yet. He unclipped his other ankle and turned to Fay. By then, the room had dissolved into complete chaos. Because of me and my party rules, no one had a phone. No one was dialing 911. They were running for the doors. One guy went through a window. Fay just stood there, like the dumb little bunny she was.”
“Oh no...” Amanda started.
“Don't panic. She's fine. Mike grabbed Joe's wrist as he wound up to hit her. That punch would have certainly killed her, what with the weight of the chain and her just waiting for it and all. Instead, Joe jerked his arm back and pulled Mike straight at him. The dumbass held on for some reason. Joe allegedly catches this guy, who was five eleven and about 190, and throws him at Fay. It sounds worse than it was. They go down in a heap and now they're married with two kids and one on the way.”
Amanda exhaled sharply and gulped down the last of her drink.
“No one is left in the house now. At least no one conscious. Someone called the EMTs. Maybe Kris, maybe someone with an extra phone in their car. Joe walks out of the house like some kind of robot, covered in blood, most of it not his, and just starts down the road, naked, collared, with cuffs and chains still attached. At some point he rips most of the rest of the hood off his head.
“Here's where it gets weird. No one saw him leave. Did Kristal pick him up? Did he see his own car and take off? Where the fuck did he go? The cops can't find any of my guests except a camera man with no camera, three critically injured people, and another two who aren't that bright to start with, and who just got knocked silly by a lunatic. Supposedly, Mike told the cops that a man picked him up and threw him across the room after beating the shit out of three or four others.
“But the cops aren't totally stupid. There's a bondage frame on wheels, and enough S&M gear to start a catalog business. And I'm wearing a leather tank top and leather miniskirt with high heel ankle boots. Carissa is naked and so is Fay. I'm sure they figured it out. No one died. The owner of the house was reimbursed and the whole thing was swept under the rug, out the door, and down the holler.
“I wake up at Vanderbilt, wishing I was dead.”
“I'll bet,” Amanda said. She peered at Melody's face, something she wouldn't have done without three martinis in her. “I can't tell.”
“I've had three reconstructive surgeries. My teeth on this side are titanium, I think. My jaw is held together with more metal, and my cheek bone is also screwed together somehow. My ear rings most of the time and my vision is a little blurred out of this eye. It's a good thing Daddy was loaded. I'm going to California in a few weeks to see another doctor who claims he can fix me up as good as new.”
“Good luck,” Amanda said, not knowing what else to say.
“Thanks. Vince won't talk to me. I keep tabs on him through some other mutual friends. Carissa survived the punctured lung and internal bleeding. She owns a real nice restaurant in Chattanooga. But when she goes home at night she locks her doors eight times, arms three different alarm systems, and sleeps with a gun instead of a man. Or a woman, you know, whatever rocks your world.”
“What about you?” Amanda asked, ready to hear the words 'the end.'
“This is the part I want you to hear. Did I deserve to die that day?” Melody shrugged. “I did a terrible, shitty thing to someone I used to love. Worse, my friends got hurt because of my stupidity. After two years of recovery, I was ready to go out in public again. Ready to try living again. Only I was persona non grata everywhere I wanted to go. Dungeons were closed to me, even in New York and Chicago. Clubs wouldn't answer my e-mails. I couldn't get into a fucking munch in a piss-ant town full of retirees!
“The 'kink community' had banished me, and, I guess I deserved that. Time passed and some of them started to relent. I had to make restitution though. I had to display public remorse. I had to walk naked through the streets and have rotten fruit thrown at me.”
Amanda arched an eyebrow.
“Okay. That part didn't happen. I thought you might have dozed off. Here's the part I want you to know, most of all. I literally crawled across the parking lot to apologize to Joe Axel. He told me to go fuck myself. And while I was at it, I could fuck all the fucking idiots who told me to do something as stupid as crawling across his busted ass parking lot.”
Melody pushed another napkin away, one showing a woman on all fours, forehead to the ground.
“They made me do it again. Then I got to deliver a public apology at a con last year. It was recorded and distributed all over. They sent a copy to Joe in the mail. They sent a copy to his e-mail. They sent a copy to his now deleted Facebook account. I had to make one more trip to his shop and offer monetary restitution and another apology. Do you know what Joe said?”
“Go fuck yourself,” Amanda said with a slight giggle.
“No. He asked me what part of 'go fuck yourself' I didn't understand. He asked me if I was stupid or just deaf. He suggested I blow every dom in the country to get them off his back. And he said if I showed up at his home or place of business again, the right side of my face would match the left. That terrified me. I told the kink mafia that I would do whatever they required, as long as it didn't lead to my brutal murder at the hands of Joe Axel. Miracle of miracles, they cut me some slack.”
“So what's your point?” Amanda asked.
“He won't ever forgive me, which is understandable. But he won't move on either. He wants to be mad forever. He doesn't just wallow in his anger. He wants to wallow in it. Do you know what he does when he's not working?”
“Salsa dancing?” Amanda said.
“Funny. He works out. Every day. He trains with any martial arts school that will take him. He goes to the gun range twice a week. One of these days, he's going to snap, and I hope I'm in Tasmania when he does.”
“He didn't snap today. He didn't kill me, or Kristal, or Carl. He didn't even kill you. Doesn't that poke a few holes in your theory?” Amanda asked.
“Maybe. Maybe I'm full of shit and just trying to poison the well. Or maybe I'm not a complete waste of oxygen, and I've learned a very hard lesson. One way or another, everyone else in that house that day has moved on with their life. Except Joe. Joe wants to relive it. He wants to make it turn out different.”
“Are you suggesting I scene this whole thing with him in a session?” Amanda said.
“No you fucking drunk twat! Don't think with your kink. Think with your heart. Screw this. It... waste of time.” Melody looked up at the bar tender. “Get her some help getting back to her room,” she said. She dropped a pair of $100 bills on the bar. The bartender suddenly started moving faster.
The next morning, Amanda approached Melody as the blonde domme ate breakfast.
"May I join you?" she said. Melody gestured to the three empty chairs at her table.
Between bites of omelet, Melody said, "You have 45 minutes. I have a presentation this morning at 9:00."
"Oh? What's the topic?"Amanda asked.
"The Important Role Of Safety, Sanity, and Consensuality in Fetish Relationships," Melody said.
Amanda stared at her. "Okay, if you don't want to tell me..."
"No! That's really the title. The kink mafia made it a condition of my attendance. I have to give the same talk three days in a row. And I have to do a good job, no phoning it in. And, I suspect there'll be exactly one person in the room, because I'm still in the doghouse." Melody paused. "But enough about me, you have questions, right? You don't look hungover."
"I'm not. I was more tired than tipsy last night. Thank you for taking care of me, though." Amanda looked at the woman opposite of her, and wondered what Joe had felt at Carl's when he figured out she was a dominatrix.
"Are you trying to mind probe me or something?" Melody said.
Amanda laughed. She couldn't help it. "No. I just had an epiphany, that's all. Why do you try so hard to be awful, especially to Joe?" Amanda said.
"Because if I'm going to be despised, I might as well enjoy being despicable. I've had my fill of sack cloth and ashes. It's a contrarian impulse, I guess," Melody said.
"What happened to the video?"
"You'll have to ask Kristal. I get a different story every time I inquire. At first, she held it over me, threatening to go to the police if any heat got put on Joe. Then she said she destroyed it. I imagine it's in a safe deposit box in some hick town bank in Tennessee."
"Any of your friends still in the scene?" Amanda asked on impulse.
"Fay. She even talks to me like I'm not a wretched sack of crap," Melody said.
"Thanks. I'm sorry I'll miss your talk," Amanda said.
"What are you going to do now?"
"Get on with my life. I stuck my head in a hornet's nest, I don't think I should complain about escaping unscathed," Amanda said.
"Are you going to call him?" Melody asked. The look on her face told Amanda that Joe wasn't the only one stuck in the past.
"Joe doesn't want me to call him."
"He won't call first, no matter how badly he needs you," Melody said. The pitch of her voice rose with each word.
"I know," Amanda said. She walked away without looking back.
Chapter 4 - Amanda's Getaway
The first thing Amanda did upon returning to her suite was arrange for a rented SUV to be delivered to the Plaza. She repacked the few items that had been unpacked in the last six hours, then piled her luggage by the door. She briefly considered leaving the two Quartermaster cases behind.
Finally, she opened one, letting the rich aroma of fine leather and delicate oils wash over her. She selected a small valise from within the larger case and peeked inside to verify the presence of a set of wrist and ankle cuffs. They were exquisitely crafted black leather with red accents cleverly worked into the main construction of the restraints. She closed everything back up and, keeping the valise in one hand, called the front desk for a porter with a luggage cart.
"Do you have any gift wrap and tape?" Amanda asked the friendly desk clerk.
"Yes, that will be fine," she said when the clerk described the array of supplies the office maintained.
The porter arrived, a short, muscular woman in an outfit composed mainly of leather straps and a pair of flat black boots. She also wore the now familiar badge and lanyard of a hotel staffer. The woman quickly loaded the cart and followed Amanda to the elevator.
At the desk, Amanda insisted on wrapping the case herself. First, she applied a cheerful sparkly green gift wrap to her present. Then, she used a heavy plain brown paper to enclose the gift and provide a place to write:
Ms Melody Parker
"Don't think with your kink" is advice I will reflect upon frequently.
Amanda Haile
"I assume that you can see this safely delivered to Melody?" Amanda asked the clerk.
"Of course, Ms. Haile, I will attend to it myself," the woman said without sounding offended by Amanda's blunt query.
"Thank you, Miss," Amanda said. Using a trick she learned from her older brother, she extended her arm for a handshake, passing the clerk a folded tip.
"My pleasure, ma'am. I'm sorry you are ending your stay with us early. I hope nothing is amiss."
"My stay, short as it was, was excellent. An unexpected opportunity has appeared, and I must take advantage of it. I hope to return for some future occasion."
"Good luck, Ms. Haile," the clerk said.
"Opportunity?" Mojave said from behind Amanda. "That doesn't involve a road trip to Nashville, does it."
"No. I'll be heading south until I see white sand. Then I may just keep going. I haven't decided yet," Amanda said, turning to the slender figure behind her.
"Oh," Mojave looked taken aback. She stepped closer to Amanda, conspiratorially close. "I hope there is no issue with the con or its participants."
"No. I think I would like to come back next year, if I'm invited. I just need some time to gather my wits," Amanda said. "Too much drama for an introvert like me."
"Have a safe trip, Amanda. I look forward to seeing you again," Mojave said before leaving to catch up on her admin duties.
Many hours later, Amanda sat on a balcony overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. Below, children screamed and laughed, playing in the surf or digging in the sand.
On the table before her was a collection of postcards, already stamped. They bore her current, beach condo, return address, plainly printed in block letters, and the recipient's address in equally plain print.
The short message was identical on each card:
'Dear Joe, Wish you were here. Really. Amanda'
After deciding where to get dinner, she walked down to the lobby and dropped a third of the postcards into the outgoing mail. A horde of small kids ran past her, sand and water droplets flying everywhere.
"Sorry, lady," a harried woman said as she ran by.
"No problem." Amanda chuckled as she brushed sand off her shirt and shorts. On the way to her rented Suburban, she picked up a real estate magazine, in case she discovered a reason to stay. She would scout out the local scene later, assuming there even was one.
She didn't have a million years, but she was a patient woman. Nearly three weeks passed before Amanda received a reply, a single postcard reading:
'I am on vacation. What do you want?'
The return address was a beachfront motel not far from her own lodgings. She had his number, thanks to Kristal. Joe answered on the second ring.
"To answer your question, dinner would be nice," Amanda said. "Something besides waffles. Or are you about to tell me to go..."
"That would be rude," Joe said, cutting her off. "I try to control my language in polite company."
"That's very thoughtful," Amanda said. She meant what she said, of course, but she also recognized that Joe had just told Mistress Amanda to stay away. She could live with that.
"DeSoto's at 6:00? There'll be plenty of time not to chat while we wait for a table," Joe said.
"Will you answer my questions if I answer yours?" Amanda asked.
"I reserve the right to remain silent," Joe answered.
"Fair enough. See you soon." Amanda waited a beat, then said, "Joe? Can you pick me up?"
"What's the problem this time?"
"No problem. I just like riding with you," Amanda said. She was answered with laughter so loud she moved the phone away from her ear.
"See you at a quarter til," Joe said, still laughing when the line went dead.
"Well," she said to the chilled air of her rented home away from home. "This should be fun." Amanda thought of her conversation with Melody. The woman was right about one thing. It was time for Joe to leave the wallow.