Chapter 35 Four #2
“Please, sit,” he said, motioning to the couch. She did, finding the cushions more comfortable than she’d expected. He reached behind the desk and came up with bottled water.
“Thirsty?”
“No, thank you.”
He nodded, uncapped it and drank half. Then he took a file from the top of his desk and opened it. He handed her a stapled sheath of papers and a pen.
“That’s the confidentiality agreement Kate told you about. Read it, and ask me any questions you need to before you sign.”
She read the agreement, used her lap as a surface, and signed. She held the papers out. “No questions about that.”
He took the papers and set them on the desk.
“Good girl. Stand up.”
She did so nervously. Was he going to look her over?
She really wished she’d asked Kate whether the person interviewing her was one of the men who liked full-figured women.
It shouldn’t have mattered. He wasn’t, after all, choosing her for himself.
He was deciding whether she belonged at the club, and Randall from the phone had certainly thought so.
He pushed off the desk, his movements smooth as a panther’s, and crossed to her. “Did anyone ask to hang your wrap for you?”
“Yes, but I wanted to keep it in case I got cold.”
“I don’t think you want to start out by lying to me, Emma. It’s eighty degrees in the house tonight. You had to have felt how warm it is when you walked in. There’s no way you’ve got a full length cashmere scarf wound around you like a python because you’re cold.”
Emma’s fingers gripped the scarf reflexively.
“Well?”
“I’d just like to keep it, if that’s okay,” she whispered.
“No, it’s not.” He extended a hand, waiting.
She swallowed hard, slid the scarf from around her, and handed it to him.
“Hold out your wrists.”
She blinked. “May I know why?”
“Absolutely.”
She waited, but he didn’t offer an explanation.
She licked her hips nervously and asked, “Are you going to tell me?”
“No, I’m going to show you. Wrists,” he ordered.
Her hands shook a little as she extended them. He wound the soft fabric around her arms and cinched a tight knot, then he reached overhead and hooked the folds of the scarf to a metal hook that hung a few feet from the ceiling by a thick chain. How had she not noticed it?
He ran his hands down her bare arms until he reached her underarms. It was incredibly intimate and unnerving for his hands to hold her soft, chubby flesh, his thumbs grazing the hollows.
“Two tips for you. First, the more you cover up, the more motivated the men in this club will be to unwrap you. Second, this club is full of dominant men who take particular pleasure in tying women up so that they’re helpless and can’t stop us from touching them. Wear scarves at your own risk.”
“I thought I was here for an interview,” she whispered, feeling breathless.
“You are.” The corners of his mouth curled up in a mocking smile. “I wasn’t the one who brought an implement of bondage to the meeting.”
He took a step back, raking his gaze over her body, and his smile broadened. “You’re beautiful.”
“Well, it’s really the dress. It’s well cut.”
He raised a brow. “So, I’m wrong? I’ve been tricked by clever packaging?”
“I—”
“I doubt that.” He walked behind her.
Emma started to twist, but a hand on her side stopped the motion. Her zipper whispered a sound as he slid it down, all the way to her white cotton underwear.
“Oh my gosh! Wait,” she said with a gasp.
“No.” In one smooth move, the dress rose straight up her body until it was bunched above her head.
“I—please. No, no. I want to leave.”
He moved in front of her, dark eyes capturing her gaze and holding it. “You’re lucky I’m experienced enough to know you don’t mean that.”
“Please. I made a mistake. I didn’t understand—”
“You didn’t understand that joining a sex club would involve being undressed a lot of the time?”
“I guess I didn’t. It was really foolish. Please,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes.
He raised his arms over his head and gripped the chain, bringing their chests into contact. His body was warm and solid. Hers trembled.
“If I cover you, will you stay and talk?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“At this point, would you agree to anything, including torture, to be covered?” he joked softly. He caught the edges of the dress and pulled it down over her breasts and hips. His arms reached behind her, holding her as he zipped it.
His warmth and strength were like a balm. He reached up and unhooked the scarf from the metal hook, but instead of stepping back, he lowered her arms around his neck, bringing their bodies into contact again.
“Lean into me,” he commanded in a low voice.
She tipped forward and exhaled when his body stopped her from falling. His arms wrapped around her.
“Hang onto me until you feel steady again.”
It was the strangest thing for him to have said, but it worked. After a few minutes, she stopped shaking.
“I’m okay,” she said. “Sorry.” She lifted her arms over his head and took a step back so she could lower them.
Elbows bent, her fists rested just under her chin.
“I’m sorry you went through so much trouble to bring me out here and that Kate spent so much time trying to recruit me.
I did sincerely think I might want to become a member.
I didn’t realize before I came that I’d be so uncomfortable. ”
He held up a hand. “The point of the interview and the tour is to figure out if someone belongs here. Don’t apologize for accepting the invitation. It’s what we wanted you to do. Anyone we invite is worth our time.”
She nodded. “Thank you. That’s very gracious of you.”
He grinned. “You really need to stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Implying that you know what I mean better than I do. You don’t.”
“I don’t? You weren’t being polite to make me feel better?”
“Absolutely not. I’d already made you feel better. And if you stop and think about it, you know I didn’t do it with polite conversation. How did I?”
She paused. “When you covered me up and held me.”
“Yes.” He stepped back, folding his arms across his chest. “Can I give you a piece of advice?”
“Um, yes.”
“When your mind and your body tell you different things, listen to your body. It’s always right.”
“I am listening to it. It told me to cover up—”
“Wrong.”
She bit her lip in frustration. “Yes, it did. I didn’t want to stand here in my underwear with you looking at me. It made me uncomfortable. My heart raced, and I felt like crying. That was my body telling me—”
“No. That was your mind driving your body into a panic. You weren’t cold. You weren’t hurt. You trusted me enough to let me tie your arms over your head without a protest. And I guarantee if the lights had been off, you would’ve let me strip you naked.”
She shook her head.
“Think back. What went through your mind when I pulled your dress up? Did you think: I was an idiot to come here because this guy is going to rape me? Or did you think: I can’t stand for him to see me naked?”
“I’ve been naked with men before,” she said defiantly.
“Where? Under the covers? In the dark? Showing a flash of skin as you go from the bed to the bathroom?”
Yes, she thought, but she lied, saying, “Not always.”
“If that’s true, why was this different?”
Was he serious? Being stripped by Mr. Photoshopped should’ve been easy? Of course, she wished she was more comfortable with her body. It upset her that he was displeased, but the bottom line was that she looked better in the dress than out of it.
A memory flashed in her mind. A department store dressing room where Emma, a chubby little girl, had been unable to zip the jeans her mom had given her to try on. Too tight. Her mom’s ensuing lecture had been one of many.
Emma quickly pushed the thought away. She didn’t want old embarrassing memories to get in the way of trying to become more comfortable with herself, but it was impossible to forget them.
“I’d like an answer,” Shay said.
“Usually when I undress, it’s because I’m going to be intimate with someone, with a person I trust not to be too judgmental.
You’re not undressing me to get close to me.
It’s part of the interview, right? To size me up?
And I know what you’ll think. I should spend more time at the gym as you obviously do. Maybe you’d even smirk.”
“Untrue. Where does that perception come from? Is that your body talking? Or your head?”
Emma raised her arms and set her fists against her forehead. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It absolutely does.”
“Why? I’m leaving. This was just a mistake.” She thrust her arms out. “Untie me.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Why not?” she snapped, finally overwhelmed. “Are you getting some kind of cheap thrill from making me more and more miserable?”
“No.”
“Then why won’t you untie me?”
“Because I believe you belong here. And as soon as I untie your arms, you’ll demand to be taken home. And you probably won’t take Kate’s calls when she tries to talk to you about what happened.”
“How can you say I belong here?”
“Because it’s true.”
“I don’t understand how you can claim that. You saw how I reacted. You guys clearly expect women to parade around the club naked. I’m not a stripper. I would hate this place.”
He drew a deep breath in and exhaled audibly. “Christ. Not only are you wrong, you’re your own worst enemy.”
She opened her mouth, but he cut her off.
“No, I’m shutting down this discussion because you’re getting farther from the truth instead of closer to it.”
“Don’t you have to let me leave if I want to?” she asked softly.
That made him smile. “Yes, but I want you to stay. If you tell me you’re sure you want to leave, I’ll have someone take you home. But if you have any doubts, if you’re confused about what you really want, then you owe it to yourself to stay a little longer.”
She bit her lip. “You must think—listen, I’d like to explain.”
“No explaining. Are you staying, or are you leaving?”
She dropped her eyes, staring at her bound hands. There were so many thoughts ping-ponging around her head.