Chapter 15
Ophelia. Then.
That night, I got in bed, called Phantom, and we practiced Give over the phone.
He instructed me how he wanted me to use my vibrator, guiding me through the various settings.
When I got close, he told me to Give, and I exploded.
We practiced again. And again. Until my cunt ached and I had to bite my own hand to keep myself from whimpering too loudly.
Then I didn’t hear from him for days.
In his silence came the hounds at my heels. I felt chased by my own vicious thoughts. The anxious thoughts. You’re too needy. You’re too much. You’re going to scare him away. He had his fun playing with you, but now—
Then, one afternoon, I came home and found Aleena’s stuff scattered around the living room. Two packed bags sat like little soldiers at the door.
Aleena was at the kitchen table, feeding Squeaky. She glanced up. “Shhh,” she said. “He’s finally settling down.”
“What’s this?” I gestured to the bags.
A smile crossed her face. “The apartment is ready. The one above mom and dad’s.”
“And you’re leaving? Now?”
“I didn’t see the point in waiting.” She must’ve heard the anxiety in my voice, however, because she lowered her smile. “Ruby. This is good news.”
“I know. I know. I just…” I didn’t expect it, but now that it was here, I couldn’t stop it. I choked. Tears burned and my vision blurred. “Don’t leave,” I whispered. “Please, don’t leave.”
“Oh, Ruby…”
I went over and rested my head on her shoulder. I inhaled the smell of baby, like oil and sleep, and…I was going to miss this. I held Aleena and Squeaky and she curled her arm around me, holding me back.
“I’m going to be okay,” she promised. “We’re going to be okay.”
I should’ve be happy for them. I knew that.
She was right—our parents were retired, they had more time to give.
But I couldn’t help the crushing feeling that I’d failed her and the kids.
Selfishly, I wanted them here. In my apartment.
Where I could take care of them. Where I could make up for my wrongs.
But fate had other plans. I helped her pack up the rest of her things and together, we moved her into our parents’ apartment. Seven pm rolled around, and I’d never needed the club so badly in my life. I punched in the code, entered the Harlem brownstone, and left the rest of the world outside.
No more Ruby. I was Ophelia now. With none of Ruby’s clinginess and desperation and all of Ophelia’s lust and passion and joy.
Princess sat in her usual spot by the door. I said hi and she gave an unenthusiastic wave back. But I’d come bearing gifts.
I handed over a graphic novel. I had no idea what it was, but the guy at the bookstore said it was, and I quote, dope. Princess blinked, surprised, but took the gift with a soft, thank you.
I was going to win her over, dammit.
The second gift under my arm was for Phantom. I’d spent the evening wrapping up the box in cute, colorful paper.
I, too, was delicately wrapped. A tight-fitting dress. My hair pulled back in a bundle of curls. A little dab of perfume on my inner thighs. I wanted him to be as absolutely feral for me as I was for him.
Tonight, I was going to get spanked and fucked until this tangle of emotion in my chest disappeared.
But Princess had bad news for me. “Phantom isn’t here yet.”
“Oh.” A smile to hide my disappointment. “That’s fine. I’ll just hang out.”
She let me leave my present behind her desk. I moved to the bar, got myself a cup of water, and waited.
I could feel people watching me. There was a small groups of people chatting with each other. They looked comfortable, like they’d known each other for ages. Eyes kept shifting in my direction, and I felt suddenly like I had a spotlight on me.
I was the new kid in town, after all. And this time, I didn’t have Phantom as my chaperone.
When he was beside me, they all accepted me implicitly.
Now their stares felt loaded, like I was the new girlfriend at someone else’s family’s Thanksgiving table.
Everyone wondering: is she just a tourist or is she here to stay?
I took a spot on the bench and began to scroll on my phone. Phantom, where are you?
My thought were interrupted when my bench, suddenly, sneezed.
I yelped with surprise and jumped to my feet. I hadn’t been sitting on a bench at all. What I’d thought was a bench was actually a man, a cloth draped over him, his back a perfectly straight line. He held himself so rigid and still, I would’ve sat there all night if I hadn’t heard him sneeze.
“Holy shit!” I heard myself say. And then I realized…
Everyone was looking at me.
Wondering: is she part of the circus? Or is she just here to gawk at us animals?
If this was a test, I’d failed it.
I pivoted quickly. “Ugh,” I sighed dramatically. “What a lumpy bench. Does anyone know where a girl can grab a pillow…?”
A mountain of a man split off from the group and came to my rescue.
He crossed the distance between us, then went over to the bench-man.
“It’s better for your feet,” he said. Bench-man wore a collar, and he hooked his fingers in the collar, forcing the “bench” to crawl.
Then, he sat down in the armchair, pulled the bench out in front of him, and kicked up his boots on the other man’s back. “Like this.”
I grinned. I sat down on the couch—an actual couch—across from him. “Noted. I’ll keep that in mind.”
My rescuer gave the human-bench a swat on the ass, then lowered his boots and pointed to the wall.
“Go. Back to your spot.” The bench crawled back to his place, resuming position on his hands and knees.
My eyes fell to the man across from me. He wasn’t bad on the eyes.
About my age, all brawn, with a thick beard and hair so long it rolled down his shoulders.
He was the kind of guy you’d expect driving either a motorcycle or a pirate ship.
But he had kind eyes underneath that rough-and-tumble, and he’d saved me from social disaster, so I liked him already.
“You waiting on someone?” he asked.
“Sort of. But he’s late.”
“I’m sorry. For him, not you. I’d be kicking myself if I had a woman like you waiting for me.”
I laughed at that. My gaze fell to his hands. Muscled arms and large palms. Good spanking hands. My own thoughts surprised me. Is this how I see men these days? I no longer thought about those hands holding a door open for me. Now, I wondered if they could turn my ass black and blue.
I was already thinking like a Seeker.
I lifted my gaze to his face. There was something oddly familiar about his striking blue eyes, and I squinted, trying to place it. “Have we met before?”
He opened his mouth to speak, but a female voice carried through the space, cutting him off. “Are you bothering this woman?”
A woman approached us. She was petite, but striking. Even in her heels, she was short. But when she frowned at my companion, this giant, rugged man immediately caved. “Sorry, ma’am,” he mumbled. I watched as he lowered himself to the floor, kneeling beside her, and bowed his head.
That’s when I recognized him. I snapped my fingers. “Oh! Doorman! Last time I saw you, you were checking coats at the door.”
The woman took his spot on the armchair. “Oh, yeah, Zero got into trouble. I gave him coat duty as punishment. You’re really good at getting yourself into trouble, aren’t you, bad boy?”
She ran her fingers through his long hair, reached in deep, and gripped tight, forcing his head back. He grimaced, the column of his throat working as he swallowed. “Yes, ma’am,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry.”
She sucked air between her teeth. Then she smiled at me, as though the two of us shared some private joke. “Men. Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.” She released her grip on his hair and he exhaled a sigh of relief.
She was gorgeous, I decided. Late thirties, maybe, with dark raven hair cut to her shoulders interrupted by a single, striking stripe of white that framed her doll-face.
I was in love with their energy.
“Tell me about it,” I replied. “I think mine just stood me up.”
“Who’s your sub?”
“Oh, no. I’m the submissive.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Really?” Her gaze flickered over me. “You’ve got big domme energy.”
“Aw. Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Who’s your dominant, then?”
“Phantom.”
She frowned. “Damn. Just when I was starting to like you.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, you know why they call him Phantom, right? Because the second a woman starts to get attached, he…” she fluttered her fingers, “…ghosts.”
“Ghosts?”
“Ghosts. Blocks them. Bans them from the club. He’s really mastered the art of catch and release. His subs never stick around for very long, so we all try not to get too attached.”
Oh. Strange things started clicking into place. I realized, then, why Princess had been so cold to me. She didn’t hate me—she was just actively trying not to get invested in Phantom’s latest sub-du-jour.
How many women had flung themselves over his knees only to get burned?
I wasn’t one to slut-shame—I couldn’t give an accurate body count if I tried. But I was also human, and there was a hurtful, nagging sting to the thought that I could be just another submissive in a long line of submissives.
I suddenly felt incredibly stupid with my gift box, wrapped behind the desk.
Here I was, trying to build a connection with a man who just wanted another notch on his whip.
The woman must have noticed my crestfallen look, because she leaned forward and extended her hand. “I’m Jekyll.”
I took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Ophelia.”
Her eyes swept over me. “Do you want to play with us? Seems like a shame to come out and not have fun.” Her fingers dove back into her submissive’s hair. “Zero is great for releasing anger. Sort of like my own personal stress ball. Or stress balls.”
He said nothing, but I could see him give a little shudder as her long nails dragged across his skull.