ControllingInterest Page 2

  “Alone together again, Mouse dear. Your hands are probably itching to begin taking notes,” she chuckled, her voice still bearing hints of her Southern upbringing.

  Mouse grinned. She’d be fine never taking notes again, but if Regine were really sitting here beside her, she’d find a notebook and her pen and be poised to take down her boss’s every word. That was just how they’d been together. Regine was a hard woman to love sometimes, but Mouse had adored her. No one she’d ever known had such a deep well of emotions so carefully hidden from public scrutiny.

  “Well, now that I’m dead…” Regine took a deep breath, looking away from the camera recording her. “God, that thought truly terrifies me.” She returned her gaze to the front, and Mouse felt pinned beneath those pale blue eyes. “But I thank you for helping me through this. You’ve been my rock in so very many ways…” She trailed off and carefully wiped her eyes so as not to smear her makeup. Regine cleared her throat.

  “Now I’ve gone all morbid and sentimental and it’s your fault, dear. I need you here to help me with this bit, but since it’s for you I won’t tell you about it until I’m dead. Quite the catch-22 I’ve presented myself.” She shook herself and straightened, folding her hands carefully on her lap.

  “To business then. As much as I love you, Mouse my girl, your inheritance comes with a price, which you now know. I expect you to work with Tor at Erotically Bound for six months. A difficult task on so many levels. Open the envelope you were given but don’t read the contents yet.”

  Mouse followed directions precisely and sat with a letter and business card in her hands but remained staring at the screen. “So okay. Now what?”

  “Now what, you ask? I can almost hear you, dear.” Regine chuckled, and Mouse felt a chill run up her spine. Shit, the woman had known her so well.

  “Well, now I’m going to tell you a little story. There was a beautiful young woman who set out for New York, determined to be a model. After a few years in the business, she met a marvelous lawyer named James. They fell madly in love, moved to Washington D.C. together and had a son. They had a fabulous life until he was taken from her far too early.”

  Mouse cocked her head. That was the public version, but she’d never quite bought it as so many others had. Very few people were privileged to live such an easy, simple life.

  “As you no doubt guessed long ago, that’s just the PR spin we put on things. It was a Cinderella story and everyone loves those so much, don’t they? The true story is a bit different. Vastly different, in fact.”

  Mouse looked down and smiled then realized she didn’t have to hide her grins from Regine anymore. Not that Regine hadn’t caught every one of them but Mouse had always tried to keep from laughing out loud.

  “I know you’re smiling, dear. You never could hide that irreverent sense of humor from me, especially when your humor was at my expense, as it so often was.”

  Damn, if she didn’t know better, she’d think the woman was in the room. Mouse frowned. “Well, get on with it then, Regine.”

  “Yes, let’s get on with it. Shall we?” Regine took off her hat, baring the baldness she’d hated at first then later embraced, both in private and public. Her last few years had been spent crusading to raise money for breast cancer research, and Mouse had been at her side the entire time. Organizing. Calling people. Making pitches. Writing press releases. In general, making Regine’s life easier while she fought a losing battle.

  “You need the true story so that you can move forward and make a difference in my son’s life, as you did in mine.

  “I come from a tiny town in West Virginia. My daddy was killed in a mine cave-in when I was seventeen and Mama was desperate, the way you were the day we met. She went to the richest man in town, the coal mine owner, and asked him to help. Within a week I was his mistress.” Regine tilted her head, her eyes far off in remembrance. “I did what I had to in order to help my family—just as you have. I know you’ve sent money off every pay period to care for family in Ohio.”

  “So what’s the point, Regine? Why the club?”

  “Let me get to the point…”

  “How the hell do you keep doing that?” Mouse got up and began to pace.

  “Oh do sit down, dear.”

  Mouse fell back into her chair and stared at the screen. No way. Just…no.

  The Regine on the screen was smiling faintly. “No, I’m not a ghost. I just know you very well. And the reason is because I’m a Dominant woman. A Domme. I know how to read people. Their nuances. It made me a very good mistress and a very good Mistress too. So good, my first lover wanted to leave his wife, but I said no. I told him it would destroy my mama if I broke up his family and asked him to help me get a start in New York. So he did.”

  “I became a model, but I also fell into the life of a professional Dominatrix. I was good at both, and that’s how I met James. He was a submissive.”

  “No waaaay.”

  “Yes, he was. A man with so much control in his public life often enjoys relinquishing that control privately. And so he did, to me. I valued his submission more than all his money. Tor knows about and respects our relationship. When he realized he was a Dominant too, his respect grew. Greater respect arises out of understanding.” She brushed her fingers over her hairless scalp, wincing slightly. “In fact, his respect was one of the reasons he started Erotically Bound. He wanted a safe place to play for those with a great deal to lose. I held controlling interest, but I was a silent partner. You will not be. In your hand is a list. Open and read it now. I’ll wait.”

  Mouse unfolded it. There were specific tasks enumerated—from removing alcohol from the premises to mentions of individuals who should lose their memberships because they abused their privileges and didn’t play safely, sanely and consensually with their partners.

  “These items are merely guidelines. You have a mind of your own, so I want you to determine which of these are true and should be followed and which are false—to be ignored. Yes, some are incorrect. Only through observation and investigation can you find out if you fit this lifestyle yourself, but I think you do.”

  Mouse’s gaze flew from the sheet of paper to the screen. “You’re nuts. I’m not…”

  “No, you are not a Dominant, Mouse. I know that. You’re a submissive.” Regine chuckled. “You and I have had a non-sexual D/s relationship for the last five years. Like James you are a perfect submissive and worth your weight in gold as such. I adore you just as much as you adore me. We understand one another. But it’s time for you to find another Dominant. One who can share your life…all aspects of it. You have six months to do it.” She put her hat back on an adjusted it to the perfect angle.

  “Finally, don’t underestimate Tor. He needs someone like you to shake him out of his complacency. That boy thinks he knows everything. He doesn’t. And he doesn’t trust easily, but he needs to be able to trust you. Show him your mettle. You gained your strength in the fires of our first year together. I honed you, now I set you free to find what you need and maybe what you need is my son.”

  Mouse felt heat rush to her face. God, she wished she could have Tor, but there was no way he’d be interested in her. He dated women like his mother. Classy and beautiful.

  “Didn’t I just say not to underestimate my son, dear?” Mouse jerked. Damn it. She wished Regine would stop doing that. “Tor doesn’t choose based on looks, though it might seem that way based on his recent…conquests. No, he values people as I taught him to. By who they are, not what they look like. And remember, you may be a submissive but you’re not a doormat—even if your name is Mouse.” Regine chuckled. “Oh, and one final thing. Call the phone number on the business card as soon as you get home. Ask for Mistress Zarah. She’ll be expecting your call and will answer all your questions. She has a few additional instructions for you. Then…full steam ahead. Tackle the club and teach my son a thing or two. He needs you desperately, just as I did.”

  Regine looked down briefly, when s
he looked back at the camera, tears streaked her cheeks. “I know you think that you were the lucky one when you found me and I lifted you out of the gutter, but the truth is entirely the reverse. You brought meaning back into my life when I had grown cold and cynical. And you have helped me face this disease with a grace I never would have been able to find without you. For that, you have my undying gratitude and love. Thank you, my dearest Mouse.”

  As the screen went black, Mouse began to cry again. God, she’d loved that woman. Regine had been a bitch on wheels, capable of terrifying everyone in D.C.—everyone but Mouse. She’d miss Regine horribly in the future because her best friend and surrogate mother was now gone. Mouse slipped the list and the card back into the envelope and stood. It was time to follow orders and make her former boss…and Domme proud one last time.

  Chapter Two

  Mouse unlocked the front door and looked around the entryway. Her entryway. The foyer was open with high ceilings and beautiful hardwood floors. She closed the door and locked it behind her before setting the alarm. How could this place really be hers? But it was. It was all hers! Yes! She walked with purpose to the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea with lemon then went into her at-home office. Mouse ran her hands over the cherry wood desk and settled into her chair with a shake of her head. She looked at the ceiling and closed her eyes.

  “Thank you, Regine,” she whispered, and hoped her mentor heard her.

  She took the envelope out of her purse and pulled out the list and the card. She studied the business card. Who had such a plain business card these days? It was a simple and white with 1-800-DOM-help in thick black letters. On the back, the words Mistress Zarah were written.

  She had to do this but felt terrified. Working with Torin Stuart would be excruciating—a combination of sexual frustration and a sincere desire to strangle him. He was as opinionated as his mother had been, but he pushed all her hot buttons. She still remembered the first time she’d seen him.

  He’d breezed into his mother’s home and ignored Mouse as he threw open his mother’s office door. She’d been in the midst of an important meeting, and for Mouse there’d been hell to pay for not stopping him. Even while he’d chuckled at her predicament and Regine verbally ripped her hide off, Mouse had wanted to drop to the floor and suck his cock until he shot in her mouth. She shivered. Her desire had raged on high ever since while he remained cordially distant. Lousy bastard.

  She sighed and looked at her hands to find they were shaking. She clenched her fists. She would do this. Mouse dialed the number. It took awhile to connect, but then the line rang, precisely twice, before a man spoke.

  “Thank you for calling 1-800-DOM-help. This is the Operator. How may I be of assistance?” Mouse swallowed…hard. She needed to speak. Just open her mouth and talk. “Hello? I can hear you breathing. How may I help you?”

  “I was told to ask for Mistress Zarah?” Mouse rolled her eyes at her tentative squeaky tone.

  “Ah, you’re a special caller. I believe you were directed to me by Mistress Regine.”

  Her jaw dropped. How the hell had he known? “Um…yeah. I guess.”

  “Very good. Please hold while I connect you.”

  Mouse held her breath and released it in a huff when a smooth, deep-voiced woman answered.

  “You sound happy to speak to me,” she chuckled drily.

  “Sorry.”

  “Mouse, right?”

  “Um…yeah. How did you know?”

  “You asked for me. No one else would do that. How can I help you?”

  “If you know my name, do you know my situation?”

  The deep, sexy chuckle made goose bumps rise on her skin. If she weren’t straight, she could fall for this woman just by her voice alone. She must drive her submissives insane.

  “I do. Regine was specific, and Tor would be a handful—even for a submissive comfortable in the life. I don’t know what Regine was thinking to toss a newbie sub into a battle with him.”

  “Are you sure it will be a battle?”

  She laughed again. “Hell yes. Regine and I have both made the suggestions on her list to him through the years but he blew us off.”

  “I thought Regine held controlling interest?”

  “She did, but Erotically Bound was his baby so she didn’t interfere. That and the fact that it’s part of a franchise of a sort.”

  “It is?”

  “Yes. Do an internet search, dear. You’ll find clubs with the same name all over the continental United States.”

  “Oh.”

  “Well, we need to get you up to specs at the speed of light, so let’s talk.”

  For the next few hours, Mouse learned about BDSM. How it worked and didn’t work. What safe words were and when to use them. At the end of their talk, Mistress Zarah told her that first thing in the morning a package would arrive for her and that night she and Zarah would be visiting a local club called Unfettered. She wrote down the address Mistress Zarah told her and took a deep breath.

  “Mouse dear, Unfettered is exactly how a club should be run. Look and learn so you’ll have something to compare EB to. This club is…new to D.C. but I’ve been there before.”

  “Is EB so terrible?”

  “No, it’s an excellent club—but it could be better. That’s your job. Make it the best it can be.”

  “I wish I knew what that meant.”

  “It will become clear in time. Memorize that list. Oh, and there will be a mask in the box. Wear it. Also, I won’t call you Mouse. Hmmm, what name shall I give you?”

  “My name is Mozelle.”

  “No, someone might know that. Ah… I’ll call you Minnie.”

  “What?”

  “Minnie. Short for Minnie Mouse.”

  “Minnie Mouse wouldn’t be caught dead in a BDSM club.”

  “You might be surprised.”

  “Right. So how will I know you?”

  “I’ll wait near the bar for you. Arrive precisely at eight p.m. and don’t be late, or I might have to punish you.” Her throaty laugh gave Mouse another chill of arousal. What the hell?

  “I don’t belong to you, Mistress. So punishment isn’t really appropriate.”

  “Maybe not, but you’ll be under my protection. It will be easier that way because we don’t want any roving Doms to hit on you…yet. I’ll see you tomorrow evening, dear.”

  “Good night.”

  Mouse sighed as she hung up. This was the craziest thing she’d ever done in her entire life. She just hoped it was worth it.

  * * * * *

  Walking up to the front door of Unfettered terrified her. Not because of its location. After all, it was only a few blocks from her townhouse. No, her fear arose from what she’d learned by surfing the web after her call to Mistress Zarah. How could Regine possibly think this would work? Tor would never allow her to make the kind of changes on that list.

  Mouse adjusted her gold leather mask and hoped she wouldn’t meet anyone she knew as she tugged her coat tighter around her. Even though it wasn’t yet winter, the cold wind blew up under her coat and her very short red leather skirt. She felt like a walking cliché festival in her mask, metallic gold bustier, red leather skirt and red spike heels.

  After taking a deep breath, she approached the woman at the door, trying to ignore the big guy leaning against the wall flexing his muscles.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I…” Oh damn. One of her squeaks. That squeak was why Regine always called her Mouse instead of Moze, her lifetime nickname.

  The woman smiled in a kindly way. “Do you have a name?”

  “Yes, M-M-Minnie.”

  “Well, M-M-Minnie let me check my list to see if you’re on it.” She perused a clipboard and finally nodded. “Yes, you’re meeting Mistress Zarah. As you go in, you’ll see her at the bar. She’s the tall lady in tight black leather pants who bears an uncanny resemblance to Melissa Etheridge.”

  “Oh. Okay. Thanks…”

  “I’
m Dru. And don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll have fun. Mistress Zarah isn’t too tough on newbies—usually.”

  Mouse scuttled through the door and came to a halt just inside. She stood and stared, barely noticing as someone helped her off with her coat and handed her a coat check stub. She absently stuffed it into her clutch purse. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but she didn’t think this was it. The décor was gorgeous in a very sexual way. Dark, polished wood was everywhere. From the beautifully carved wood of the bar to the gleaming floors. The couches and arm chairs were covered in a deep burgundy leather. It looked exactly like a classy private BDSM club should look. Not cheesy and over the top, but rich and elegant.

  She noticed the people at the bar and there was one woman who stood out. A circle of silence marked her and no one approached. Every submissive in the room eyed her with interest, and if they came anywhere near her, they bowed. Yup, black leather pants, black jacket and wavy light brown hair. Melissa indeed. Mouse took a step and paused. How the hell was she supposed to go up and talk to her?

  “Hello, angel girl. Alone tonight?” Mouse jumped then looked up at a tall, reed-thin older man.

  “I…”

  “She’s with me.”

  “Your new girl? You have taste, old friend.”

  Mistress Zarah chuckled. “She’s my guest, but she is lovely, isn’t she?”

  “Indeed. Let me know if you decide to cut her loose.”

  “Her choice of partner is up to her.”

  He sighed dramatically. “Pity. Submissives need guidance.”

  “Only once they choose.”

  As he shrugged and walked away, Mouse sighed in relief. “Thank you, Mistress.”

  “Turn. Face me.”

  Mouse followed directions with a blush while Mistress Zarah surveyed her. “You’ll do.” She walked behind Mouse and poked her in the small of the back. “Stand straight. Head and shoulders up. Be proud of yourself. Dominants would love to spank that curvy full ass.” Mistress Zarah’s hands slid over her butt and gently squeezed.

  “Um… Mistress.”

  “Hush. I’m enjoying.” She strode back in front of Mouse. She ran her fingers over the rise of her breasts as they rose from the bustier. “Ah, Minnie, you have luscious tits too.”