He opened the door, an Adonis of a man, tall, athletic form evident even under his dark suit coat, well defined chin, hair peppered with just enough gray to make you take him seriously, and steel blue eyes that flowed like water over my body.  He removed his hat, holding the brim delicately so not to misshape the felted material, and stood at the threshold of my inner office, his hesitation the only betrayal of weakness in his composure.  I glanced up from my tumbler of whiskey, wondering how he’d gotten past Alice, then remembering she’d left her desk hours ago, when most normal people went home for dinner.  My left hand dropped below the desktop, edging toward the alarm button that would signal the night guard in the lobby, my right gestured for him to enter, indicating the two worn wooden chairs opposite me.

He prowled toward the desk, leaning on the back of the chair instead of sitting, his height even more evident in my seated position.

“How can I help you?” I asked, my voice firm, but welcoming.  No point calling security on a client, if that’s what he was.  “I’d offer you a drink, but I only have the one glass.”

Frowning, he sighed heavily, shoulders tensing in frustration.  “I chose your office because I thought you would be more reliable, more personable than your usual private dick.”

I smiled wryly, leaning back in my chair and finishing my drink, immediately pouring another.  “Sorry to disappoint.  I’m afraid people don’t pay me for my personality.  That doesn’t mean you came to the wrong place, though.  I guarantee my work, so if you’re unsatisfied, you can always get your money back.”  This gentleman could get his money back.  It wasn’t the usual policy, and if Alice had still been around to hear the offer, she would have shut it down before she could make it into my office.

That drew a smirk to his lips and he finally sat, perching on the chair like a lion sunning on a rock in the hot Serengeti, completely at ease.  “Somehow, I don’t think you’d leave anyone unsatisfied.”  He pulled out a cigarette case, paused, then put it away, noticing the lack of ashtrays.  I nodded in acknowledgement and took a sip of my drink, studying him.  A lot of people would have lit up, regardless, so it said something that he had not only noticed, but taken the unspoken hint.  Though he seemed at ease, it couldn’t have been easy for him to come here.

The majority of cases for a private investigator end up being pretty mundane, revolving around trailing sexual partners or getting evidence for lawyers and cops that they couldn’t, for whatever reason, get for themselves.  My specialty was forensic accounting.  I believed following the money would always lead to my quarry, and, so far, I had yet to be wrong.  Due to the nature of society, most of my clients were women, which ended up being fine with me.  They needed the help more, and tended to actually pay their bills.  Given that he wasn’t one of my existing contacts in the DAs office or precincts, that left either civil suits or amorous liaisons, both of which started and ended in intimate relationships.

I kept quiet, seeing how he dealt with the silence, and admiring the view.  It wasn’t every day a handsome, polite, and well dressed fella walks into your office, needing your help.  His dark grey pants drew my eyes straight up the inseam, noting his impressive bulge between his thick, splayed legs.  I licked my lips and took another sip of my drink, the burning liquid flowing down my suddenly parched throat.  He followed my gaze, raising an eyebrow as he met my eyes, but not shifting.

“It’s my wife.”  He said, finally.  “She goes missing.”

I slid my legal pad closer on the desk and picked up a pen, hoping it still had ink.  “How long has she been gone, Mister….”

“No.  Not gone.  Goes.  And comes back.  And the name is Fenwell.”

I sighed, and leaned back in my chair, disappointed in both the dying hope the attractive man was available for a date and the lack of a case.  At least I still had my drink.  “Well, Mr. Fenwell, unfortunately I don’t think that’s illegal, or even unordinary.  I’m sorry, but unless there’s more to your story, there’s not much I can do with you…uh…for you.”  I kept my expression neutral, but wasn’t able to stem the hot rush of blood to my cheeks.

His brow furrowed, and he suddenly leaned closer, slamming his palm on the desk and turning his head to hide the fury in his eyes.  I jerked at the noise, but staying otherwise motionless.  His cologne struck my nose, sharp and woody with undertones of cypress and cedar.  His breath hitched and he pulled his hand back to his stomach, an embarrassed mumble of apology slithering through clenched teeth.  His titanium ring had dented the veneer, revealing the lighter, cheap wood underneath.  That was an interesting reaction.  Was his rage from his feelings of helplessness, pretense for my benefit, or anger at the lack of obedience?

I pushed the bottle across the desk to him and he took it, taking a small pull and then sliding it back with a quiet cough.

“I know it sounds crazy.  I’ve been laughed out of so many offices like this one, I lost count.  The cops were never any help, and even the attorneys I approached wouldn’t take my case.  I love her.  I don’t care if she’s seeing someone else.  I don’t care if she’s stealing or lying or anything that most people would get upset about.  I’m worried about her, plain and simple.  If it were just an affair, I could live with that, even if it meant she didn’t love me anymore.  We’ve been together long enough that I could even stay in a loveless marriage with her and be okay.  But…there’s something wrong.  She comes home…different.  And she doesn’t know where she’s been.  Or what she’s been doing.  There aren’t any lies or excuses, just…blank stares and silence.”

I frowned, genuinely concerned, now.  “What do you mean…different?”

He grimaced, trying to order his thoughts, his hand clenching into a fist at his knee.  “I don’t know…she…she’s lethargic, ambivalent.  Like she’s sleepwalking, but…things don’t affect her.  The last time I came home, she’d cut herself making dinner and hadn’t noticed.  There was blood on her clothes, the counter, even in the pan, but Laura….she didn’t even know.”  His eyes lifted, unshed tears deepening the shades of blue, making them quaver and dance.  I could get lost in those eyes.  Instead, I capped the bottle and finished my drink.

“Okay Mr. Fenwell.  I’ll take your case.”

The relief in his face made it all the more handsome, and he took my hand, gripping it longer than necessary.  His touch was electric, and my mind wondered what that touch would feel like on other parts of my body.  His eyes locked more firmly, their clarity and allure palpable as we breathed.  I felt heat rush to my cheeks again but didn’t pull my hand away.  After a moment more, I cleared my throat and stood.  I left a note for Alice with his contact information and ushered him out of the office.  I had no idea what I was dealing with, or what I hoped I’d find, but I knew there was something about him that I couldn’t let go.  I locked up and headed home, skipping dinner entirely.  Sliding into bed back at my apartment, I fell into a restless sleep, his eyes following me into my dreams.

The dim light from inside the hotel room splashed across her face, setting her blonde hair aglow, but only a shadow came into the view of my camera.

“Dammit.”  I kept the focus on the door, hoping whoever Laura was meeting would appear before she went into the room.  I’d been following her for a week now, whenever she left the house.  So far, it had led to nothing but a dent in the Fenwell’s bank account and a corresponding increase in mine, not that I was complaining.  Laura seemed to function perfectly well, from what I’d seen so far, and I was beginning to wonder if her husband had other intentions when he’d hired me.  Again, not complaining.

He’d been in contact every day.  First it had been to deliver the bank statements I’d requested, then it was to drop off his retainer, then it had been drinks to let me know Laura’s schedule.  Last night, it had been dinner, to give me more details about what, exactly, I was investigating, and he paid.  He was charming, and funny, and I couldn’t help feeling flattered; the way he treated me, opening doors, joking like an old friend, asking on a starlit walk through the park.  That had been after dinner, and I’d had one too many to remember to decline the invitation.  He was strong and confident, his arms wrapped comfortably around my waist, dashing smile gazing down at me as we strolled under the foliage.  I justified it as gathering background, which was true, but it was also the first time I’d been touched that intimately in months, so I wasn’t wasting any opportunities.

For nearly a year, the love of his life, Laura, had been having minor “absences”, as he termed them.  She would be gone for an afternoon, sometimes a whole weekend.  Nothing would be wrong with her, except that she couldn’t account for her whereabouts or activities.  Her car was always on a full tank.  He’d started counting the money in her purse before and after every time they were separated, and couldn’t find any differences.  He even followed her once, but aside from driving to the movies, she hadn’t gone anywhere.  She hadn’t even seen the movie, just sat in the lobby for two hours.

They’d gotten married right out of high school, almost fifteen years ago.  They’d been together even longer, growing up neighbors and inseparable since they could both remember.  No kids, which seemed just fine with both of them.  They owned a small apartment downtown, close to his office, easy for her to work at a makeup counter for extra cash.  Their finances were almost too perfect.  One mortgage, a couple credit accounts at a tailor’s and the department store, two life insurance policies, a car loan.  They lived well within their means, and even donated regularly.  What I had been expecting, and hadn’t found, were incidental expenditures; meals, movie tickets, hotel rooms - the usual things that indicated activity outside of monthly expenses.

If she had been the only squeaky clean one, it would have made sense – a sign she was overcompensating for her extra marital activities.  But it was him, too.  It was as if neither of them had a life outside work, and now, I supposed, me.  Sometimes they splurged on their weekly date.  Sometimes they had to fix the car.  Sometimes they went on vacation.  But there was none of the usual chaos that actually indicated normality.  I couldn’t make sense of it.  Of course, getting in my head about it was distracting me from my surveillance, and I’d missed the door being closed.  I snapped a few shots with my Ektra anyway, the long lens I attached allowing for a wider view of the area in case I noticed something when I developed the film.

I settled into my seat, anticipating at least a half hour wait before Laura would emerge from the room.  She was attractive enough I thought about trying to get some shots of the tryst through the window, but that’s not what the client was paying for, and I wasn’t that hard up…yet.  I shifted uncomfortably.  Was I?  I’d been fantasizing about this woman’s husband from the moment he walked through my door, and now suddenly I was thinking about her, hands roaming over her body, gripping her tight ass, pulling her hair back to kiss her luscious lips.  What was wrong with me?  I opened my thermos and poured out some coffee.  The steam fogged the window, and I had to wipe it with my sleeve to keep an eye on the room. 

The bitter taste was unpleasant enough to dampen my libido, which was good, but not unpleasant enough to dampen my curiosity.  After an hour and a half with no signs of movement from inside, I started getting worried.  Usually there were at least shadows moving against the drapes, or a face at the window.  The rooms weren’t big enough for anything violent to have occurred without my notice.  The lights were still on, so it was doubtful they were sleeping.  I rolled down my window, the night air brushing my face like the cool side of the pillow.  There was no noise coming from anywhere on the block, much less their room.  This was eerie.  Eerie enough I had chills up my spine.  What were they doing in there?  Playing cards?  I needed to know.

I pulled out my trusty Bolsey, throwing the strap around my neck before quietly getting out of the car.  The room was on the far end of the second floor, with a perfect view of the staircase leading up to the walkway on that side.  The stairs on the other side, however, were shadowed by the larger apartment building on that side, and would make for an excellent concealed approach.  There was only one other space occupied on the second floor, classical music blaring from inside.  I crouched, skimming along the wall below the windows until I had reached the pool of steady light of the room Laura had entered.  I stopped, barely breathing.  Still no noise or movement from inside.  I lifted my eyes over the sill, hoping the gauzy drapery lining would shield me from its inhabitants.

Laura sat in the middle of the room, staring.  There were no signs of restraints, or harm to her, or even anything for her to look at, but still, she stared, eyes vacant, jaw slack, breathing steady and even.  If there was anyone else in the room with her, I couldn’t see them.  I ducked back down, holding my breath a few seconds and listening intently for signs I had been noticed.  Slow, ethereal violins wafted over the air from the other occupied room, as goosebumps spotted up my arms.  Lifting the camera with me this time, I snapped a couple of frames of Laura, in the chair.  She seemed so relaxed and peaceful.  I quickly swept the room with my eyes, but didn’t see signs of any personal effects, much less any persons.  I frowned, thinking harder.  Maybe they were in the bathroom?

I leaned against the wall under the window again, confirming I was alone on the balcony and that nothing had changed, except the song being played from the other room.  Against all my better judgment, I reached up and quietly rapped on the glass, pulling my hand out of sight as quickly as I could.  I waited longer this time, counting the seconds slowly in my head.  After a full minute, I cautiously peered into the room, only to see Laura in exactly the same position.  She hadn’t gotten up to investigate.  She hadn’t even turned her head toward the noise.  No one else had appeared to investigate, either.  I bit my lower lip in consternation.  What was going on?  That was when I felt the cool steel on the back of my head.

My heart sank.  Whatever was going on with Laura and her husband, it had now moved beyond being a mystery to being an outright threat.  I probably hadn’t helped, sneaking around outside as I had.  First lesson I’d learned as a PI, don’t be suspicious.  It offended witnesses, warned subjects, and attracted cops.  It also tended to get you distracted and snuck up on.  It was the most simple and basic rule in my line of work, and I’d forgotten it.  Mr. Fenwell had never indicated I needed to hide my actions from Laura, and had, in fact, flaunted his employment and knowledge of me in public.  By treating his wife as treacherous, her behavior as criminal, when he had clearly stated the opposite, I had played into my assumptions, and his hands.  He had set me up.

The gun barrel pressed firmly into my skull as my body tensed, and his soothing voice drawled, “Good.  You’re smart.  I like smart.  Both hands up, now, slowly, then stand.  We’re going to see Laura.”

I followed his instructions, ashamed that the simple commands awoke something deep with me, embers building a primal heat, kindled by his first touch, and now, ignited by the sound of his voice.  I could still see Laura inside, unmoving, staring, in the cheap wood chair, facing the large king bed.  The dark night remained eerily silent, except for the continued classical music, now a waltz, heavy with vibrato.  My body vibrated in kind as his fingers brushed against my skin and he gripped my shoulder.  The gun slid down my neck and spine to my lower back, never losing contact with my body, its constant pressure like a thermostat, driving up my internal heat and desire as it sank towards my center.

I could feel the heat of his body behind me, sense his height, his confidence.  He guided me up against the door to Laura’s room, another point of pressure making contact with my lower half, well below the gun.  Despite myself, I felt my stomach flip and licked my lips.  I had to turn my head to keep from driving my face into the closed door.  He grunted softly as he pushed his knee in between my legs and used his hand to frisk me, taking plenty of time to explore my chest and ass before seeming satisfied and opening the door.

I spilled into the room, thanks to his last minute push and a misstep on my part over the threshold.  I whipped around to face him, but he held the gun, unwavering, and pointed at me.  He closed the door behind him as I searched frantically for inspiration and escape.  I had been shoved near Laura’s chair, but not close enough to reach her.  Without turning around, he closed the thick curtains, hiding us from view and hope of rescue.  The smirk on his lips so damn charming, his blue eyes shining like jewels in a desert of tanned, unblemished skin.  I found my own lips curling at the edges, despite my fear.

Laura still hadn’t moved.  I wanted to scream to her, ask her for help, ask her what was going on, ask if she was okay.  Instead, I kept silent.  Whatever was going on, I had lost control of the situation, and didn’t know how I was going to get it back.  I was going to have to be patient.  It was a skill I had confidence in, from years of work scouring through pages of tax returns, checking and double checking accounts, lining up rows and rows of numbers for hours on end.  When the crucial detail revealed itself, I would strike.

“Laura, be a good girl and offer the detective a seat.”

His eyes raked over both of us, Lauren in her clinging white satin shift drifting over the floor like a cloud of pure lust, me in my practical tweed and button up, tense and feral, reliant on my intelligence and pure determination.  Even though he hadn’t addressed me, I reacted to his words, that primal heat within flashing white hot.  His smiled widened and he nodded in satisfaction.  Obviously, that response had not gone unnoticed.  His hand jerked and I followed his motion to replace Laura in the audience for the show he had planned.

Once I was off my feet, I felt them pulled outwards by small, delicate hands.  Silk rope, amazingly soft, looped from my ankles, up to my knees, then to my wrists, before being pulled below my chest, and around and down the opposite side.  It was surprisingly slow, which made it all the more sensual.  I could smell Laura’s flower-scented shampoo, the clear, crisp, fragrance of her soap, even the soft undertone of her fabric softener.  Her fingers moved adeptly, over and under my limbs, brushing against my body, the rope following along like an extended kiss that tightened into an embrace at the anchored end.  With Mike’s eyes boring into mine as Laura’s touches traveled over me, I felt my stoic demeanor slipping.

My whole body felt warm as Laura finished and stood behind me, expression seeming even more blank than before.  I flexed my fingers and toes, but the bonds were excellently secure, tight enough to restrain me, but loose enough to allow for shifting and circulation.  Mike slid a finger against my wrist, testing them himself and nodding in approval. 

“Good Girl.”  His deep baritone resonated in my chest, sending jolts up and down my spine.  I sensed Laura shiver, and her moan left no question as to whose side she would be on.  He brushed the tip of his gun against my cheek and smelt my hair.  I thought I had understood my predicament, but as he placed the gun on the top shelf in the closet, I knew there was nothing I could do, and had to hope for the best.  Closing the flimsy plywood door and returning to the bed in front of me, he pulled Laura in tightly to him and kissed her hard, roughly handling her shapely ass before grabbing her breast with his other hand and twisting it, painfully.  Laura, instead of cowering or bracing for his assault, had seemed unaffected, like a limp doll in a bully’s hands.  Once his lips had touched her, though, she had responded well enough, instantly pressing herself into his arms and writhing against his body in slow, undulating waves.

His face turned to me, radiating desire and presence, his eyes firm and steady, even as Laura pawed at the buttons on his jacket and her lips nipped along his thick neck.  I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed in response to Laura’s hand roaming lower and lower.  The attention seemed to illuminate soft golden flecks in his eyes, increasing their alluring luster.  I found myself lingering on them longer and longer as he gently pushed Laura to her knees.  She looked up at him with adoring wonder, licking her full, pink lips. 

He undid his jacket as Laura began kissing his loafers and up the inseam of his pants, where he was showing his enjoyment of the evening’s activities so far.  If I had any doubts about his endowments, they had been ushered quickly out of existence as the bulge grew.  It pressed harder against the fabric as he followed my open mouthed stare.  In my line of work, I had documented plenty of sexual acts, and witnessed quite a few more that I hadn’t.  I enjoyed sex, in general, but felt society was right to keep it out of public view.  Well, unless you knew what you were getting into.  There was no reason why Laura’s actions at the feet of a man, much less of her husband, should have embarrassed me, or had any effect on me whatsoever.  Somehow, though, the constant vigil of Mike’s fit and predatory form made me not only blush, but actually turn away in embarrassment.

It also lit me up like a firecracker.

I’m sure there were less expensive ways to get someone to watch you and your wife get intimate, especially since I planned to charge him for however long this took, but Mike and Laura were in no rush.  He held my gaze while she continued her evident appreciation of his attributes, making me more uncomfortable with every heartbeat.  Finally, he turned his head and looked down into Laura’s pleading face, gently stroking her hair as she nuzzled into his crotch.

“I’m sure you’re wondering what I’m doing here, Detective Lange.”  My name dropped from his lips like rain onto Laura’s head and she looked up at him quizzically.  He ignored her questioning look and continued to pet and caress her face and hair.  “You’ll have to excuse my ruse.  Of course, Laura never had anything wrong with her…. aside from what I’ve done to her myself,”  He paused and chuckled, leaning down and planting his lips on her head, “and exactly what I’m going to do to you.”  The hand stroking Laura’s hair suddenly gripped and smothered her against his groin.  Her eyes fluttered with pleasure and she moaned softly.  His other hand rose and tightened on her throat and he began squeezing, watching her body carefully.

I literally bit my tongue.  Instead of feeling revulsion at the display, I had squirmed in the very hard, very flat seat.  Or was it?  It seemed the seat had been carved, leaving the smallest of ridges along the edge, designed for comfort to the user and near invisibility when vacant.  In my reaction to his show of dominance, I had slid forward, bringing my hips up towards the front of the chair, my bottom running over that slight rise in the seat.  It had shot a jolt of desire up my spine, and I wanted to cry out as Laura had.  The pain mixed with pleasure, and my pulse raced.

He released Laura and stood her up before him, locking eyes with her before giving her a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Laura.  I’m going to speak with our friend for a moment now.  You will remain aroused and obedient until I give you other instructions.”

“I hear and obey, Sir.”  Her voice was sultry, slow but not slurred.  I could see the flick of her pink tongue over her teeth and wondered what it would feel like flicking against my skin…my lips…my most sensitive parts.  It wasn’t just her tone, it was what she had said.  How she had said it.  She was completely and utterly unconcerned, adoring, loving, worshipful.  She was enjoying her role, and there was a longing look in her eye that I sensed meant she was just getting a taste of the full dose of subservience she craved.

Mike sat across from me on the bed, his concerned expression as genuine as any I’ve ever seen, as he stroked my cheek and undid his tie, leaning over me to press it into my mouth and tie it behind my head.  The action had loosened his top buttons, and I could see the soft fuzz of his chest hair pushing against his undershirt.  I was overwhelmed by sandalwood and smoke as he tilted my chin up and leaned his hips towards my face, not quite touching the fabric to my skin.  His cock twitched and he sucked in a breath.  “You’ll make such a good slave.  Now, look into my eyes.”