Chapter 2
anxious king
Present Day
Cassius
Before today, I’d never known what burning flesh smelled like. I’m aware my boss is a loose fucking cannon, but nothing could’ve prepared me for that. There’s a lot you can’t unsee growing up in the life, but her unique methods are unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed.
Regina Delvecchio is a complicated woman to work for, and while you never know what to expect, she still surprises you.
Like using her cigarette to light a man on fire today after dousing him in gasoline.
I resisted the urge to gag as she insisted that we let him burn out and leave it for the clean up crew.
The smell of burnt flesh lingering in my nostrils left my stomach unsettled, but I managed to make it through my shift. While I didn’t have a bad day, it was hell, but I survived.
I cannot begin to understand her, nor do I try to, but what I saw today disturbed me more than usual. It’s not easy assuming power, but even harder for a Black woman in her position. I remind myself of that as I scrub the day off my skin in the shower at headquarters.
A normal guy might unwind with a drink or hookup, but I wouldn’t call myself normal.
I’m self-aware, as my therapist says. I’d be lying if I said that I had a chance at being normal, because I was always destined to be where I am.
For example, my career. There is nothing normal about the cannabis or casino industry.
When my father passed a few years back, I assumed his spot in the organization without a second thought, choosing the life that I knew—crime. And crime pays, handsomely.
Working for the Klarke’s was somewhat routine, until I was promoted to work for Regina, who’d recently taken over for her missing husband, leaving her to run his family organization and casinos. It’s safe to say that she needed familiar faces in her corner.
While the Klarke’s are my second family, I often wonder what my brother and I’s lives could have been had we chosen another path.
Maybe if I had gone a different way, I’d be married by now, living upstate in a big house with kids, a white picket fence, and a dog.
Call that wishful thinking or being just plain stupid, I think to myself.
I should take my ass home, but I just keep driving the opposite direction, twisting the dial to drone out my thoughts with music until I reach my destination.
A neon pink sign mocks me as I pull into the asphalt lot. Audacious is what I am. Nothing more, nothing less. The hellish day led me here with high hopes of ending it by begging for praise and kindness from a stranger–except she’s no stranger.
Madame X is my Domme who I absolutely told I loved mid-orgasm like an idiot. I don’t love her and I hardly know her, so of course, I ran out afterwards, vowing myself not to return.
Private sessions serve as rewards, but I haven’t received an invite in over two weeks. For the past year, I haven’t so much as missed a single session because I’ve been on my best behavior.
I kill the engine and sit, rehearsing my words. I know better than to break the rules she’s put in place, but the need to be called her good boy is worth the shame. That’s what gets my feet moving toward the entrance of Lilith’s Lounge, a members-only kink club outside the city.
The doors open up for me and my heart thumps so loud in my chest I can hardly hear the music. I wait in line to check in, unsure of what to do with my hands. I slip them into my pockets when my phone buzzes immediately.
That reminds me, I think as I retrieve the phone and swipe to view the notifications. Sure enough, there’s a message at the top from none other than my best friend, Darius Klarke.
Darius:
The guys and I are grabbing drinks at Doce. You sliding?
Me:
Not tonight. Gina put us through it today. I’m at the club to blow off steam. Tell everybody I said wassup.
Darius:
Oh word? Don’t let me hold you.
Have fun. I’ll hit you back tomorrow!
I like react to his message and turn my phone on Do Not Disturb. When I glance up, I’m next. I’m greeted by the main hostess, Lila, who looks surprised to see me.
Panic surges as I wonder if she knows about the last session, but I remind myself that our sessions are confidential unless there is a safety risk.
“Good evening, Mr. V. I haven’t seen you in a while. I hope you’re not working too hard,” she states, averting her eyes as she scans the appointment book. “I’ll need your membership card, most recent test results, cell phone and valid identification, please?”
“I’ve been working a little too hard.” I admit, retrieving my phone, test results and ID from my pocket to hand over.
She accepts the items and places my red card beneath the barcode scanner, waiting for the beep. Once it sounds, clicking keys accompany the silence as she continues the process. She glances up with a knowing smile while handing back my cards.
“You’re here for Madame X. She’ll be delighted,” she adds.
“You know it,” I chuckle softly, playing it off as if I believe that’s true.
“Of course. Follow me,” she directs with a nod, and I trail behind her to Madame’s preferred room.
My stomach is twisting in knots with each step closer.
She can still refuse to see me and might very well send me home, which would be humiliating, but I’d deserve it.
Addressing this face to face is the right thing to do even if it doesn’t end well.
Madame needs to know that I respect her and I will not do anything to jeopardize her career, if nothing else.
I still can’t explain what came over me in that moment, other than I felt a sense of relief and satisfaction that led me to say something I haven’t said to a woman in a long time.
Madame checks off every box as the exact kind of woman my mama would pressure me to wife up, but I intend to keep this relationship far away from my family and their expectations for me to settle down.
I’m thirty and have taken on more responsibilities along the way that include dangerous work. I couldn’t possibly expect to find a woman whose understanding of my career and the risks that come with it, could I?
It’s not like I’d find a wife anyway, despite the fact that everyone else does in the life. They must know something about women that I don’t because no one in their right mind would be interested in a man who’d be willing to die on the job any day.
The feds and firefighters find wives, so that’s a damn lie.
Thankfully Darius shares my interest in avoiding commitment, so I feel like less of an outlier. I shrug off the thought just as Lila’s quickened steps halt outside of a door with a nameplate for Madame X beside it.
She peers over her shoulder to ensure I’m still there before she waves the matte red keycard, unlocking the door and motioning for me to enter the room.
“Would you like your usual? Rum and coke?” She asks, catching me off guard. It surprises me how much Lila pays attention to detail when she likely sees hundreds of members weekly and manages to remember something special about us all.
“Yes, please?” I ask.
“She’ll be right with you. Have a nice night, Mr. Vaughn.”
“I will. Thank you,” I say before the door shuts, leaving me to my thoughts that flit back to the last time I was in this room.
For sixteen days, temptation has tap-danced on my nerves and heightened my anxious thoughts. I’ve watched the clock desperately, craving her calm like a source of nicotine. Both addictive and unhealthy, hooked after one taste. I haven’t earned a mouthful of Madame, yet I hunger for it.