10. I’m just being charitable
TEN
I’M JUST BEING CHARITABLE
O n Sunday evening, like clockwork, I enter Lady in White. I’ve done this every week since Monica told me she wanted to find pleasure somewhere that wasn’t our marital bed. I have a few play partners that I’ve become accustomed to over the past nine months. I enjoy the structure of negotiating a scene in advance, what is allowed or not, the boundaries of what I can do, and knowing all parties will be satisfied at the end. Every time I was in bed with my ex-wife was a gamble.
I desired my wife. A lot. But we were highly incompatible in bed, fighting for dominance and refusing to give in. And we were bad communicators.
I’ve made it my mission since to read body language and ensure that never happens again. Maybe if I’d done that with her, she’d still be with me. But it doesn’t matter anymore.
Here, everyone knows what will happen, even though the modalities can change. There’s a clear line drawn. My partner comes on my terms, which they’ve agreed to. Any discomfort is signalled with colours, and safewords protect us all.
That’s how I end up in the middle of the quiet lounge area, sipping on a glass of Macallan and hoping to dispel the tension in my body.
Ash, a pretty brunette I’ve met before, drops to her knees in front of me without preamble. A few people are looking at us with lust in their eyes. It usually turns me on. Today, I almost flinch and place a hand on her elbow to stop her before helping her up.
“I’m sorry. Did I disappoint you?” Ash asks from her place between my spread thighs, her voice soft and uncertain. I know she loves the attention she gets from others when she’s on her knees, and I feel bad for not giving her my entire focus. But my heart nor my body are in it.
I caress her cheek in a reassuring manner. “I’m tired today, beautiful. Why don’t you join Matthew and Ana?”
She nods and steps away to where the couple welcomes her with open arms while I walk to the bar with a defeated sigh.
As I drown my numbness in Scotch and listen to the sounds of sex and decadence, the conversation between the two bartenders reaches my ears.
“It’s bad, Bianco. Can’t you host her for like a week while she finds another place? The whole building is getting evacuated. I can go to Ritchie, but she has nowhere to go,” Jade, the long-haired blonde bartender tells the other.
“Babe, I live in a twenty square metre studio and I bring work home more often than not. Vanessa’s not staying with me,” the bartender with hoops all around his ears answers, and I perk up at the sound of her name.
I usually don’t talk to anyone outside of the people I play with. I don’t do small talk and all that nonsense. No one gained anything from knowing me before, so I won’t start at the club. But something compels me to join in with their conversation. There’s no way they’re talking about my Vanessa. I mean, my nanny. I mean the nanny that works for me and my kids.
“Excuse me. Jade, is it?” I ask and she nods, frowning. “You mentioned a Vanessa. Do you mean Vanessa Winfrey?”
What will I do when I discover it’s her they are talking about? Offer her to let her live in my pool house? That’s ludicrous.
“Oh my God, of course. You’re Mr Marquesi,” Jade exclaims.
I cringe. We don’t use surnames in the club to respect everyone’s privacy.
“Sorry, sorry. I know who you are, but I didn’t make the connection. Vanessa’s been staying at my place, but we need to leave.”
“You have to evacuate your building?” I ask.
“Yes. They found asbestos and we all have to move out.” Jade looks distressed. “Vanessa already spent the whole week searching for a new place. She’s just having a bit of bad luck.”
I swallow hard. She has nowhere to go.
And I have a place that’s empty. It has its own entrance, kitchen, bathroom and a small bedroom. She could use it until she gets back on her feet. We’ll have to set some clear boundaries for the kids, but I can’t let her be homeless or sofa surfing.
That wouldn’t be charitable of me.
“If you don’t mind me asking, where do you live?”
Jade crosses her arms over her chest and stares me down with a fierce protectiveness. I’m glad Vanessa has such a good friend in her corner. Though my hackles raise as though I should be the one doing it.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss this with customers, Lino.”
My voice turns stern and cold. “I have a place I could rent to her, Jade. That’s what I’m asking. Now tell me.”
“I’m not a switch nor a sub, Lino. Your dom voice doesn’t work on me.” She smirks then picks up her phone from where she has it tucked into a garter belt under her skirt. “I’m texting her to expect you. If she hasn’t called me in an hour, you’re a dead man. I know people.”
“If by ‘people’, you mean Alana, I doubt she’d do you that favour.”
“You’d be surprised what women do to protect each other.”
With that ominous threat, she scribbles her address on a napkin. My whisky abandoned, I almost leap to my feet and run to a decrepit building off the city centre. My jaw clenches in displeasure at knowing she’s been living in these conditions.
That’s probably why she was so exhausted all week.
She deserves better than this rat hole. Jade does too, but I’ve heard she’s already sorted with somewhere to live. My hand itches, dreaming of tanning Vanessa’s ass for being so careless and not having a plan B, or C, or D, in case of trouble popping up in her life.
My cock jerks to life at the image that surges behind my eyelids. Spanking always gets me this way. It has nothing to do with the recipient. I suck in a deep breath through my nostrils and will myself to calm down.
My heart is in my throat as I knock. A dishevelled Vanessa opens the door in nothing but tiny shorts and a sports bra, skin glistening with sweat.