3
GOLDIE
With only the dim light from a bulb at the end of the hallway to illuminate our surroundings, I understand what Mr. Bjorn is so nervous for me to see. It’s as though I’ve stepped directly into my fantasy, but he wouldn’t know that. A four-poster bed, complete with restraints, stands proudly in the center of the room, and around it, an assortment of other things decorates the walls; a flogger, a cane, handcuffs and leather ties, blindfolds, and masks.
My heart pounds in my chest, vibrating the thin skin over my pulse points.
A long pulley system that could suspend a willing victim, or an unwilling one, hangs from the ceiling. I turn and glance at Mr. Bjorn, who is suddenly standing very close behind me. “It’s not a torture chamber,” he says slowly. “I just like things to be a certain way.”
His eyes are troubled, and his jaw ticks as he considers me. He doesn’t like the fear he thinks he can sense in me at all. He doesn’t like me learning his secret or witnessing my reactions. “Just fix the locks, and you can go,” he says softly.
It’s his gentle concern that opens something inside me. I want to look around, take in the reality of my fantasy, and touch things I’ve only imagined until now. As I walk into the room, Mr. Bjorn says, “Don’t,” in a pained voice. “I know how this must look to you. I just want the door fixed so I can lock it again.”
“You lock the door, so you can’t come in here?” I ask, stepping toward the bed and trailing my fingers across the clean white sheets until they make contact with the cold steel of the handcuffs. A shiver runs up my spine, tingling over my neck.
“Yes.”
“But why have it if you don’t use it?”
He runs his hand through his thick, dark hair, focusing on the window’s anonymous blackness. “I thought if I made it, I would… I could find someone who would want the same things as me.”
“But you didn’t find them?”
He shakes his head.
“Social media? Aren’t there websites?”
He fixes me with a stern look. “Do I look like a man interested in social media?”
“You don’t look like a man with an illicit sex room in your house.”
The skin above his beard reddens, and he shoves his hands into his pockets.
I hate the embarrassment caused by his preference, but then I consider my embarrassment about my desires, and I understand how he feels. It’s difficult to want something that isn’t mainstream, and it isn’t easy to find someone you’re attracted to who is into the same thing. I wonder how long Mr. Bjorn waited to find someone before he locked the door to his hopeful fantasies. The thought makes me sad for him, and sad for myself, too.
Pushing a part of yourself down and ignoring it doesn’t make for a happy life. It creates a heavy weight of shame and regret.
I want to discover more about what Mr. Bjorn likes, hoping that talking about it will be cathartic. Looking at the array of restraints and equipment and imagining Mr. Bjorn’s big hands holding me down is turning me on.
“Do you like to be restrained?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant.
“No.” He practically growls his answer. “I like to be in total control. I need to be in total control.” Those words are like a balm washing over me. It’s as though I’ve been searching in a dark forest and have finally found the place I’ve been longing to find, the warm cottage with all the food and comfort I could want.
“You know,” I say, turning to face him, finding him resting against the bed frame, “When you called me, I was in bed. I was—”
Before I finish, the sound of a door banging downstairs makes us both turn toward the hallway.
“Is there someone else here?” I ask.
Mr. Bjorn nods solemnly. “My brother, Evan.”
Footsteps sound on the stairs, and Mr. Bjorn sighs and takes a step back, leaning against the wall. “Robert?” The deep voice of Mr. Bjorn’s brother interrupts the silence.
“In here.”
I brace myself to come face to face with another enormous man. Will he look like Robert? Is he younger or older?
I get my answer as he comes into view.
They’re identical twins. My pussy flutters as more dark eyes find mine, and a half-smile forms on his face. “I didn’t know you had a guest,” he says, appraising me with warm humor lighting his eyes.
“The locksmith,” Robert says.
“I didn’t know they make locksmiths who look like this.”
They’re identical but with subtle differences that fascinate me. Where Robert’s brows are serious and straight, Evan’s pull into shapes that convey a subtle amusement. Where Robert’s eyes are a dark chocolate brown, swamped by obsidian pupils, Evan’s eyes seem brighter with sparkling mischief.
“They make locksmiths in all shapes and sizes,” I say, smiling.
“Mmm…” He glances at his brother. “So, you’re putting the locks back on?”
“Yes,” Robert snaps. “Of course.”
Evan shakes his head. “I don’t see why it’s needed. This is our home. Why should we have parts of it that are inaccessible?”
“You know why.” Robert folds his arms, expands his chest, and grits his teeth.
“What do you think?” Evan asks me. He cocks his head to one side and raises a questioning eyebrow. Maybe this room is important to both men, but one is reluctant to use it and the other isn’t?
I shrug. “If children were in the house, I’d say keep the locks. But if it’s just you who lives here, then you don’t need them.”
“It’s just us,” Evan says. “Right now—”
Robert snorts. “Can we just let—” He looks at me, realizing he’s forgotten my name.
“Goldie,” I tell him.
“Let Goldie do her job. It’s late. I’m sure she wants to go home.”
I want to tell him I’d be happy to hang out with him in this fantasy land, but with Evan here, things just got a lot more complicated.
Robert leaves the room, and Evan follows. Then I’m left alone to replace the broken lock. It doesn’t take long to remove the old barrel and fit a new one. It takes some adjustments to make everything run smoothly, but when I’m done, I don’t want to leave. I feel like Aladdin in the Cave of Treasure. Getting out is the sensible thing to do, but looking around at all the riches inside seems much more appealing, despite the risk. I’m conscious it’s someone else’s home, but that doesn’t quell my curiosity.
As I touch the restraints, I feel my arousal building. My nipples draw tight against the fabric of my camisole, and my pussy is hot and heavy between my legs. It gets even hotter when I find a drawer filled with dildos, clamps, and other things I’ve only ever imagined.
It’s like I’ve stumbled into a place conjured from my dreams.
I run my finger over a massive glass dildo that's cold to the touch. What would that feel like if Robert pushed it inside me? My body shivers at the thought.
Then, someone clears their throat in the doorway. I turn to find Evan and Robert with vastly different expressions. Robert is flushed and struggling to look at me as though I’ve caught him naked with his cock in his palm. Evan’s grin is wide, and his eyes are knowing.
“See something you like?” Evan asks.
My mouth is suddenly dry; all the pent-up longing for something that will finally satisfy me constricts my throat.
I want to tell him yes.
I want to tell him how much I could surrender to my own desires in this room.
I want to tell them both that there’s nothing to be ashamed of here—at least not as far as I’m concerned—but I’m also scared. If I’m open about my desires, then something could happen here and now, and the prospect is as terrifying as it is arousing.
Years of warnings about strangers have led to the anxious niggling about my safety with these two huge men, and although I’ve fantasized hard about some seriously out-there shit, I’ve never imagined more than one man. Robert alone could have been fine but multiplying him by two is a whole different prospect, even if Evan is identically good looking.
There’s an awkward silence, and I open my mouth, still uncertain what to say. Then my phone rings.
It’s the perfect interruption at the perfect time, and when I answer it, I discover I have another emergency job to attend to. Two in one night. What are the odds?
At the end of the call, I look up at the two gorgeous, imposing men standing in the doorway. “I’m done with the locks,” I say. “And I have to go.”
“I have your money downstairs,” Robert says. “I’ll show you out.”
Evan grins, but he remains silent as I gather my tools and follow Robert. In the kitchen, Robert hands me the agreed fee in cash, and I take it, meeting his deep, fathomless brown eyes for long enough to make my heart skitter. His throat works in a swallow so big it seems hungry. I hope to see longing in his gaze, maybe arousal. I want him to feel the same pull as I do and the same desperation to live out long-suppressed fantasies, but his gaze is shuttered. I put the money into my overalls pocket.
“Thank you for coming out so quickly,” he says. “And…for your discretion .”
“That’s okay. It’s my job.”
Robert clears his throat, his uncertainty so palpable that my unsettled insides fizz. He turns and indicates for me to head towards the front door with a wave of his arm. Before I reach it, a key turns in the lock from the outside, and another man pushes it open, filling the doorway. I’m suddenly faced with another clone of Robert. It’s not Evan because he’s making his way down the stairs. There are three of them?
Triplets.
The new Mr. Bjorn looks around, his expression going from serious to surprised, and then, as his eyes find mine, they flash golden, sparkling like there’s a fire raging in their depths. I blink, uncertainty a skip of my beating heart. Squinting, I try to make sense of what I’m seeing, as shock and fear pulse through me. I step back, instinct taking over, but there’s nowhere to go. Robert’s so close that my ass presses against his thighs and the back of my head thuds into his firm chest. I swivel so fast my neck twinges, finding Robert staring down at me, his eyes blazing gold, too. I gasp, recalling their previous rich chocolate hue. The new color is bright and unnatural, sending cold fear skittering through me. The stairs creak, snapping my attention, and a picture frame rattles as Evan staggers, his mouth open with shock and his eyes matching his brothers’ glittering shade. He flails his arms to steady himself on the wall as Robert’s hands cup my upper arms. A moment of static electricity makes the hair on my forearms rise. The press of his fingers and weight of his palms should freak me out, but instead, they ground me in a way I don’t understand.
The man at the door looks at the floor, blinks, and shakes his shaggy dark hair. When his gaze flicks back to mine, and he stares at me through lowered lids and thick dark lashes, it’s as if I imagined everything. Warm chocolate brown irises are in place of glittering gold. In a sweep, I glance at Evan and then twist to Robert, finding the same. I blink in a flutter of confusion, awaking from a dream.
“Hunter, Goldie’s leaving,” Robert barks.
“Leaving, but she—”
“Not now,” Robert snaps. He practically pushes me out the door, and when I’m on the step outside, I turn back, dazed, and confused, desperate to understand what the hell just happened.
“Thanks again,” Robert says quickly and closes the door in my face, locking it behind me.