The realisation that Josephine was Sylvia's sister hit me in the stomach like a punch. I needed to get out of there. Of all the things she could have said, I wasn't prepared for that.
I picked up my clothes and dressed quickly. Before long, I was standing at her door, mumbling an apology for my hasty exit.
She kissed me and asked if she could see me again before the party. I told her I thought I would be a bit busy, but I would see. Her pout made me feel bad, but I needed to be at 'arms length' from these people. At least until I found out what was going on.
It was getting colder outside. It suited my mood. I wasn't sure why I was heading back to the Domina Flagrante. I convinced myself the walk would clear my head.
It didn't help.
It was just cold.
I mean, what was I getting into?
Josephine was no help. She didn't seem to know anything important. Her revelation made my stomach feel uneasy. As I walked down the street in the cool of late evening, I fought to recall the conversation we had while I was dressing. I'd already told her I had to get out of there. She was laying on her bed, still naked and beautiful, her head resting comfortably on her hand, propped up on an elbow, watching me do up the buttons on my shirt.
"Then you know she's in trouble?" I asked.
Josephine sat up, a concerned look overtaking the pout she had been wearing.
"She's in trouble? What kind of trouble?"
"Well, I'm not sure," I hesitated. "She's been acting strangely lately."
The look of concern disappeared as quickly as it came.
"She's always acting strangely. She's a strange person. You know her? From the legal game I mean?"
"She works at my office, Josephine. She'll be coming tomorrow night."
She rolled her eyes and fell back on the bed, talking to the ceiling.
"Oh. Oh, right then. Well, no wonder she's been acting strangely. A lot of demons are being resurrected, Sir."
"Demons?"
"Sylvia would not be coming to the Domina Flagrante unless she had to."
That explained the confrontation we had in my office. I looked softly at Josephine.
"Does Chantelle know Sylvia?"
"Oh yeah," Josephine sighed in resignation.
"Let me get this right. Chantelle knows you are Sylvia Harper's sister?"
She sat up again, cross-legged this time.
"Yes. Of course, Sir. Why? What's wrong, Sir?"
My mind was awhirl. What indeed? Had Chantelle simply forgotten to mention it to me?
"She just hadn't said anything, that's all."
"They're not exactly on speaking terms Sir."
I could hardly think straight.
"I'm not sure if I understand."
"Sylvia and Chantelle. They were best friends in school, Sir. But when I was nineteen I told Sylvia I was joining the BDSM lifestyle, and the whole story came out. She tried to convince me I would turn out just like Chantelle - a sad and sorry old lesbian."
Josephine shook her head sadly and continued.
"Apparently Chantelle had done the same years before. 'Come out' I mean... Anyway, Sylvia went crazy, going on and on and telling me it was unnatural and that I'd end up beaten and dead in some alley. She screamed and pleaded and I tried so hard to explain but she just wouldn't listen. Honestly Sir, it's been ages since I've heard from her."
"Does she know about the Domina Flagrante? About Chantelle and her achievements?"
"Yes Sir, she's well aware of them. They have a rather antagonistic rivalry going. They've locked horns a number of times over the years. Something to do with Planning Regulations and some investments they'd made. I'm really not too sure about the details. I wasn't interested."
"Why not?"
"Sylvia disowned me when she found out I had hooked up with Chantelle."
"Okay, something about this is strange. Chantelle must be older than I think."
"Chantelle is forty-three Sir."
"I would never have guessed that in a million years. And Sylvia?"
"My sister turns thirty-two this year. I came a little later. I am twenty-four Sir, in case you were wondering."
"But you said they were best friends in school."
"Indeed Sir. Chantelle went back to college to get a business degree. That's where they met, and became lovers."
"Sylvia and Chantelle were lovers???"
"Well, according to Chantelle they were. Sylvia has never mentioned it to me."
"I never knew all this."
"There is a lot of history, Sir."
"So it seems. Do you have any problem with Sylvia coming to the party?"
"I hadn't really thought about it. No, I guess not. It might be weird if she speaks with me, but at the moment I think I'll just ignore her."
"What about Chantelle?"
"She hasn't mentioned it, Sir. But I imagine Chantelle would be looking forward to having Sylvia 'on her turf', if you know what I mean, Sir."
"Sorry for all the questions, Josephine."
"It's okay, Sir. I guess eventually there won't be any secrets. You know, once you have been around a while... and been filled in on everyone's history..."
I wasn't sure what to say. I had some thinking to do. I mean, what was going on? Was it something I should be concerned about?
Was I a player or a pawn?
I chuckled to myself and Josephine smiled hopefully at me.
"Sir?"
"Sorry, Josephine. I was just thinking how much I hate not having control over a situation." I smiled at her.
She lounged back across her bed, her arms reaching above her and arching her back.
"Well, I think you are doing fine, Sir," she giggled.
I smiled. I couldn't resist. I had to ask.
"So you don't know anything about any photos of her?"
"Photos? Of Sylvia? What kind of photos?"
She was looking up at the ceiling again.
"X-rated ones."
"I don't know anything about any x-rated photos of Sylvia, Sir. They would be extremely embarrassing for her though, if there were any."
If I was standing anywhere else but where I was, I might have seen the look on Josephine's face.
****************************************************************
Briefly I wondered if the wind had turned around. I seemed to be heading into it once again. I thought it was about time winter made its presence known.
I was also thinking I had really better get that envelope from Chantelle's safe. It was starting to look like it really shouldn't be there. It should be in my hands. Not hers. I just had a bad feeling. A bad feeling that was driving me on, toward the Domina Flagrante.
Up the marble steps I walked. They looked more impressive at night than during the day. The smooth cold black marble of the heavy, ornate balustrade almost matched the temperature of my hand, despite the fact that I'd had it stuffed deeply in the pocket of my pants. A chill ran through me.
I pressed the button on the intercom and was surprised to hear Jonathan's deep ebony voice boom from the speaker.
"Domina Flagrante, may I help you?"
"Jonathan, Roger Moore here."
"Ah, come in Sir, welcome."
The heavy door clicked and whirred, opening slowly. I was met by a burst of warm air and Jonathan's smiling, open face.
"It's good to see you again Sir. May I take your jacket?"
I tossed up whether to have Jonathan call me a taxi and instead decided to stay a little while. I wanted to be alert for the party, but after looking at my watch, figured I had an hour or so before I should be heading to bed.
"No thanks Jonathan, I might stay a little while, but I will keep my suit intact."
"Please Sir, I really think I should take your jacket."
He smiled at me conspiratorially, took my elbow and moved me over to the Coat Room anyway.
"What's going on, Jonathan? What's this all about?"
Jonathan looked around to see if we were out of range of the cameras and leaned down, whispering in my ear.
"It's Adrian, Sir, I think he might be in trouble. I think Chantelle has him in the Training Room."
"What's going on? And why is it any of my business?"
"It's to do with an envelope you gave to Chantelle for safekeeping, Sir. Apparently it has gone missing and only Chantelle and Adrian know the combination to her safe."
"Oh, good Lord. I... ugh, never mind. I better go see what's going on."
"As you wish Sir, first door on the right heading towards Mistress's office, Sir."
"Thank you, Jonathan."
I bounded up the stairs intent on at least finding out... what? God, I really didn't know. I stood at the top of the stairs and looked around. I felt dizzy. My mind was whirling with questions.
Should I be interrupting this? What if Adrian 'did' steal the envelope, what did that mean? He must be working for someone else, or maybe he is in love with Chantelle, or Sylvia, or.... what am I thinking? I must be going mad!
Or maybe it's something else, a 'misunderstanding'. Surely that's it. Adrian couldn't do something like that, it's not in him. He must has moved it when cleaning or something.
I slapped the sides of my head.
Who cleans the insides of safes???
Think, man, think!
My feet took me to the door with the small sign above it, saying "Training Room". I was rapping on the door before I'd taken a breath.
The door flew open and Chantelle stood there, dressed in black leather almost from top to toe. A silky red corset split her in two with it's black laces cinched tight. She wore long black leather gloves and sculpted thigh high black leather boots and a black leather mini. She teetered on high heels and the tops of her breasts bulged over the cups of the corset with her rapid deep breaths.
"Roger! Perfect! Come on in!"
With that she took my hand in hers and pulled me into the Training Room.
I heard the 'clunk clack' of the heavy door closing behind me and knew I was locked in.
"Adrian here stole the envelope right out of my safe."
"It can't be true."
"It is. Come, you can hear it from his own mouth."
I heard whimpering coming from one corner of the torch lit room, and, looking around, was surprised by the feelings this room elicited. It was a dungeon, through and through. I noted the faux stonework and beams and rafters. A whipping post with large rings hanging from it. A heavy wooden X with straps and buckles bolted to the wall. A set of stocks replete with sweat marks around the pillory holes. Chantelle must have realised my eyes were adjusting and had seen me looking around as we made our way toward the sounds.
"I set this room up much like a dungeon, right down to setting the temperature two degrees lower than the rest of the building. As you can see there is a lovely pillory imported from England. Cost a pretty penny too, I might add."
Why was she in such a chipper mood? It was like a weight had been lifted from her.
"And some of the shackles you can see hanging from the beam overhead, along with a lot of the chain work you see around you, come from one of the best old world blacksmiths in France. I must admit that most of the leather cuffs and in fact anything made from leather in here, I had custom made. Like this training table. Feel that."
