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  Faust sends his regards, as well as a demand for purple grapes next visit.

  Honestly, I don’t know what gets into him these days.

  Kind regards,

  Dr. C. Salisbury

  He sat back, heart pounding and his phone rang.

  “Doctor Soskoff.”

  “So formal,” Neal’s voice purred.

  “Neal,” Sasha blurted. He cleared his throat; the pain made him sound all husky, like he had bedroom-voice. “Uh, how are you?” He winced. Finesse, dammit, finesse…

  Neal chuckled. “You got anything going tonight? I figured I’d call about that rain check.”

  Let’s see. Lie on this bed and ache, or go out with the best-looking guy he’d seen in ages and have more sex? “Nothing I can’t postpone.”

  “Shall I pick you up at seven?”

  “What do I wear?”

  “Jeans and no underwear, and that cock ring you mentioned before.”

  Sasha damn near came. “Yes, Boss.”

  Neal chuckled, a wicked sound that sent shivers up Sasha’s back and tightened his anus.

  “See you at seven.”

  Neal pulled up at six fifty-five, his car gleaming. Sasha pushed off from the wall and walked over.

  “Hi.” He eased into the seat, wincing.

  “You look sore.”

  He shrugged. “I think the run was probably a mistake.”

  Neal rolled his eyes. “Running with broken ribs? Really? You need to tape them again?”

  “I don’t know, honestly. They’re not swollen or anything, they just hurt.”

  “Steve can spare some more Vicodin for you.”

  “Thank you. Seriously. I really can’t afford a hospital. My aunt’s a doctor, but I’d have to go all the way back to Madison.”

  The skin around Neal’s eyes tightened, but he didn’t say anything. Despite it, Sasha got the feeling something about Madison bothered him. After they drove for several blocks without speaking, he just asked. “Something wrong with Madison?”

  Neal blinked and glanced at him, startled. “What?”

  “You seemed… I don’t know, you had an expression.”

  He shrugged. “I lost someone I care about. They left Chicago and moved to Madison. I’m beginning to think there’s more to that town than meets the eye,” Neal quipped, but it sounded a little flat.

  Sasha let him have the appearance, anyway, of lightening the mood. “It’s all the lakes. Where are we going?”

  “How does my place sound?”

  “Sounds good.” Sasha tried to keep the excitement from his tone. He switched the subject, rather than ask about what might happen after dinner. “I heard from Dr. Salisbury, that guy who interviewed me.” Sasha tried to sound casual.

  “And?”

  “He sounds optimistic. He sent me an email to tell me his parrot missed me.”

  Neal pulled up at a red light and stared at him. “His parrot? That’s not a euphemism for something, is it?”

  “No.” Sasha laughed. “He’s like my father’s age. But he has the most amazing parrot I’ve ever seen. It’s a Scarlet Macaw he raised from the shell. Do you have any idea how expensive those are?”

  “You like birds?”

  “I love all animals.”

  “You a cat or dog person?”

  “Both, but I have to admit to preferring cats.”

  Neal’s gaze flashed at him and then he focused on the road again. Sasha loved the way the top’s brown long-sleeved T-shirt outlined the planes of his chest, his nipples hard little nubs under the fabric. His jeans looked well-worn but immaculate, and his brown leather belt that surrounded his hips flared about an inch and a half wide.

  A sudden fantasy of what Neal could do with that belt flashed in his mind and Sasha had to look out the window so the big man wouldn’t see his face.

  Trust the top to figure it out anyway. “What are you thinking?” His big hand caressed Sasha’s thigh, the palm warm and heavy.

  Sasha swallowed. “Inappropriate thoughts about you and that belt.”

  Neal stroked up Sasha’s growing erection through his jeans. Sasha wiggled and Neal’s fingers moved up to his zipper. A honk sounded behind them and Neal muttered a curse before moving his hand back to the gearshift. Sasha silently echoed it as he tried to relax. Thankfully, he saw the Factory up ahead.

  They pulled around behind the building into an immaculate parking lot surfaced with fresh asphalt and surrounded by a tall, black iron fence. Smaller than the one Sasha used the other night, only a handful of cars waited, Sasha’s truck one of them. Neal pressed a large garage door opener and the gate slid out of the way on a well-oiled track.

  “Where is the customer parking lot?”

  “I meant to ask you. We found your truck that night, but it was on the other side of the building. I had Paul move it around here. Where were you going?”

  “You didn’t have my keys.” Neal stared at him and Sasha answered. “I was kind of drunk. I went the wrong way out of the front door. I had to find my truck, because I left my wallet in the glove box and needed cab money.”

  “Next time, take your wallet,” Neal advised dryly. “The front door bouncer should’ve noticed you were heading in the wrong direction. He said an argument inside distracted him. I’m sorry you were hurt.”

  Sasha shook his head. “I don’t blame you.”

  When they arrived, a young dark-haired man finished sweeping the alley and moved on to the concrete slab in front of the parking lot’s gate. Sasha could see that the alley was now cleared of trash and debris. “Hey, Boss.” He wore jeans and a T-shirt with the logo of the Factory on the front.

  “Misha. I’d like you to meet Sasha. Dr. Soskoff, this is Mikhail. I can’t say his last name, so don’t make me. Misha is short for Mikhail,” Neal explained.

  Sasha rolled his eyes. “I know that.”

  Misha eyed him, and then said in Russian, “Nice to meet you.”

  “Thanks,” he answered in the same language.

  Something in the way Misha watched him, almost competitive or something, made Sasha tense up and narrow his eyes.

  “Where’s Leo?” Neal asked.

  “Downstairs cleaning,” Misha answered.

  “Come on,” Neal said, putting a warm hand on Sasha’s back, “let’s go on up. I’ll make you some coffee.”

  Sasha nodded and followed him inside, watching the way Neal’s ass muscles bunched on the stairs. The bar on the right played rock music quietly, a television on with a football game. Neal turned past the bar and led the way toward the back of the dining room to an ornate old elevator complete with brass filigree and heavy doors.

  “This thing is gorgeous.”

  Neal preened. “It’s a dinosaur, but I love it. The city made me upgrade it when I bought the building, and the inspector assumed I’d tear it out since it cost so much. But one of my guys is a carpenter and we rebuilt it and brought it up to code. After you.”

  The doors opened to reveal a wood-paneled car with a mirror facing the door. The floor had a thick forest-green carpet and the button panel gleamed with modern buttons. Upstairs, the wide hallway had exposed brick walls and a warm ivory carpet on the floor. Neal opened the door to his flat and tossed his keys in a dish by the door.

  “Anyone here?” he called.

  No one answered.

  He smirked at Sasha. “We have the place to ourselves.”

  “What do you do downstairs?” Sasha wanted to ask the question since he heard about Neal being a professional Dom and now seemed like the right time.

  Neal walked with slow steps over to him, watching him with that warm cinnamon gaze. Sasha didn’t know where to put his hands and stuffed them in his pockets, then fidgeted with his shirt. Neal’s hand appeared under his chin and cupped his face.

  “We have time before dinner. Would you like to find out?” he asked when Sasha looked at him.

  “I can’t afford your rates.” He licked his lips with a suddenly dr
y tongue. “I saw your demonstration with Dillon, but couldn’t get very close because of the crowd. I’ve been wondering ever since…” He trailed off, eyes on the smooth skin of Neal’s throat. His cologne, something spicy with a hint of cloves, breathed across his awareness. “I don’t usually go to clubs. My tops have been lovers, not professionals.”

  Neal leaned close, then licked along his chin to his ear. “I’m sure we can figure something out. It’s pretty standard, what I do with clients, but with lovers it’s different. I don’t fuck my clients.” Neal straightened and walked back to the door to grab his cell phone off the table.

  “Yeah, Steve. It’s me. The playroom occupied?” He listened a moment and then looked at Sasha. “No, no, just Playroom One. For the next few hours. See ya.”

  The next few hours? Arousal jolted through Sasha.

  “You gonna join me, or just stand there?” Neal taunted, stepping back out into the hall.

  “Oh, I’ll stay here and jack off.”

  “Really?”

  Neal grinned and opened the door and Sasha made a show of being right on his heels.

  The elevator rumbled down to the basement, according to the placard next to the “B” button, and opened on a very industrial-looking but immaculate club. The first floor housed the Factory, a popular restaurant, but after ten at night it changed to a club catering to gay clientele. Below it, The Basement, strictly geared for dominance and submissive play, was becoming equally popular. Without the crowd of people to obstruct his view, Sasha could clearly see the stage and heat flamed into his face.

  Neal watched him as he tried to regain his composure.

  “I take it you’re not into exhibition.”

  Sasha shrugged. “I saw you do the demo the other night. Very hot.”

  Neal grinned, clearly pleased. “It’s fun with the right person, but only if you’re both into it. Otherwise it’s a horror show.”

  “You ever let anyone top you?”

  “No.”

  The look in Neal’s eyes made him shiver with anticipation.

  “Come on.” Neal tipped his head toward the bar.

  The sounds of a vacuum powering down came to them, and then Leo appeared, pushing the appliance. The young man had blond hair and looked college-aged, hardly old enough to actually enter the club during the later hours when the restaurant changed over. “Hey, Boss.”

  “Leo, I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

  Leo set the vacuum against the wall and came over, his hand out. “Hi. I’m Leo Voshnoy.”

  Sasha took his hand. “Hi. Sasha Soskoff.”

  “The vet, right?” Leo asked, letting go of him. “It’s nice to meet you.” He turned to Neal. “I’m done down here. What else do you need?”

  “The laundry on the second floor is ready, then the dishes. After that, I think you’re done, but check with Paul.”

  “You need anything else down here?”

  “Not ’til later, thanks.”

  Leo waved and disappeared with the heavy vacuum. Neal walked over to the bar. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Some iced tea would be fantastic.”

  They carried their drinks, Sasha following Neal.

  Neal with his chin. “Have you walked the gallery?”

  Sasha sipped his tea. “I didn’t really get to see, it was too crowded.”

  “We put in a low interior wall, creating a long hallway that we turned into a gallery. Come on.”

  Neal reached over and flipped a switch. Lights showcased large, framed photographs tucked into alcoves. Several of the photos featured Neal on stage with Dillon and another young man.

  “Who’s the other bottom?”

  “We have three House bottoms.” Neal pointed at one of the photographs. “That’s Larry. The other one is Andy, but he’s on vacation ’til next week. He’s finally coming out to his family. Poor kid. I suggested he doesn’t share his job, yet, with them.”

  Sasha surveyed the rest of the photographs. Many focused on the bondage scene, but a series of handsome nudes on the end were his favorite. Neal figured prominently in them and Sasha wished he could take one home.

  They finished and returned to the main room. Neal slid into a booth that faced the stage and Sasha joined him, still gazing around the place. It seemed a lot bigger when it wasn’t crammed with people.

  Neal set his drink down and met Sasha’s gaze. “So what are your limits and preferences? I want to know those before we start.”

  “No water-sports or permanent marks. No blood play or forced penetration. No gags yet. I take orders well and I like to watch.”

  “And we’ve already determined that you’re not into exhibition.”

  Sasha glanced at the stage and could not quite repress his shiver. He pushed down the memory of his rape that floated by. His ex, Brock Gary, had taken care of them, and Sasha had dealt with it. Even his therispt agreed.

  Neal cocked his head and cupped his cheek in one hand. “What just happened?”

  “I…” Sasha really didn’t want to kill the moment, but the memory flashed by again.

  “I’m not moving until you tell me what just happened.” Neal looked stern. “I’m a top, not an idiot. I know when a sub has a ‘moment’. Tell me.”

  Sasha met Neal’s gaze. “I learned the hard way to be careful when I was in college. I liked the idea of a group scene, but the top was an asshole and things got out of control. He was going to share me with a buddy while others watched, but they decided to all take a turn. He let his friends rape me in harness. My regular top was angry at me for not clearing it with him first, but he took care of those guys and made sure they’d never hurt anyone again.” He swallowed. “I ended up in the hospital.”

  Neal stroked his cheek. “Jesus.”

  “That’s why I don’t like public displays. They can get out of control.”

  “Not mine.” Neal’s face was hard. Sasha watched him make a visible effort to relax. “You been to clubs before?”

  Sasha nodded, grateful that Neal was not going to keep focusing on the past. The top just wanted the facts, not all the gory details. “Yeah. Madison’s got one, but it’s nowhere near as big as this one. It’s more like a gay leather bar, really. I’ve never met anyone in the scene as a professional.”

  Neal sat back. “We have three pro tops. You met Cleo. There’s also Craig.”

  “I saw him when I was here with Marty and Vince. He’s hot.”

  Neal smirked. “I’ll tell him you said that. He might want to top you, you say that…”

  Sasha’s cock twitched. Many of the photos in the gallery featured Craig and he looked as good nude as he did in clothes. “I might let him.”

  Neal cocked an eyebrow. “I might not let him.”

  How the hell did the big man figure out where all his buttons were? “Tease…”

  Neal lifted his finger into his mouth and sucked on it while watching Sasha. His cheeks worked at it, the muscles pumping, and Sasha started to pant. Neal stopped and leaned forward. “That’s being a tease.”

  Sasha’s eyes widened. “You win.”

  “Good.” Neal sat back. “Shall we continue the tour?”

  Sasha finished his tea. “Sure.”

  Neal set their glasses in the sink. The double bar’s polished black lacquer top gleamed and the beaten metal inlaid on the fronts caught the light of the blue neon around it. Neal led the way back around the huge staircase in the middle of the floor. Behind the staircase was an area that Sasha only got glimpses of the other night because of the crowd. That, and Vince and Marty’s kink didn’t extend too far. An open play area beckoned. Three St. Andrew’s Crosses waited, empty, and two black iron cages were tucked behind the huge stairwell.

  The top stopped and gestured to a closed door with a keypad. “We added three private playrooms back there for members, and a quiet room too.”

  “What for?”

  Neal shrugged. “In case a bottom freaks out or something. We don’t h
ave to use it very often, but it happens sometimes if a scene gets too intense.”

  Neal circled the stairwell and Sasha paced at his heels, refusing to let the Crosses distract him. The bigger man stopped in front of one of the public rooms. A playroom, visible through wrought-iron bars, sat behind several low couches. The gate, like a jail-cell door, stood open and Sasha eyed a spanking bench and swing. His cock twitched even as he glanced around behind him. That kid left, but…

  Neal repositioned the door against the bars, fully opened. “This one’s semi-private. The gate can close so nobody can interfere and get too close, but still gives the thrill of voyeurism, or the safely of others close by.”

  “Is this Playroom One?”

  Neal shook his head and jerked it to the left. “That one is. It’s the biggest. I wouldn’t distract you with the worry that somebody could walk in on us. And I don’t want interruptions.”

  Sasha shivered from the wicked look on the Dom’s face. He silently seconded that idea.

  Neal opened the playroom using a keypad and Sasha stepped in, looking around with interest. If he told Neal to design his dream dungeon, it would look like this. Halogen spots on undulating fixtures crawled across the ceiling, strategically lighting the play furniture and parts of the floor.

  He stopped inside the door with a growing hard-on. Neal closed the door and grinned at him.

  “This is my playroom where I take clients.”

  “It’s perfect.”

  A large metal square stood near the back wall, with hookups for restraints all around the edges. A bondage table, like a massage table only larger and with rings placed strategically around the perimeter, sat next to it. A St. Andrew’s cross loomed along the right wall and a heavy ring in the ceiling could be used for all sorts of things. A spanking bench stood in the corner, set up so the ass of the bottom would face the room. It sat on a slight pedestal so the top could fuck the bottom, if he wanted to.

  Sasha’s cock twitched again, his erection pressing against the cock ring.

  “Seriously, Neal. This is awesome.”

  Neal grinned, clearly pleased.

  “Do you have a toy chest?”

  Neal walked to a cabinet, floor to ceiling doors the same black lacquer as the rest of the furniture. Neat rows of floggers, successively larger, hung from hooks. A large box of condoms sat next to skin cleanser and a rack of dildos, scrotum weights and nipple clamps.