La Maison de la Douleur speaks of quality. Success comes easy to the men who enter as Dominant players, surrounding themselves with submissive beauty. They don't need to settle down when there's always new fun to be had.
Gray used to think the lifes...
Okay - so I went and published a much different version, though the endgame remains the same. It's available on Amazon under code B07YPY9VHD and it's free on Unlimited in multiple locations.
Heads up if you're reading it on here - this is maybe edit 5 - the version on Amazon is like edit 40. The basic premise doesn't change though.
If you read it here or on Amazon please be aware I love the votes and comments on both platforms. If you're a writer yourself you know how much joy comes from people letting you know that they've engaged with the story.
Let me know what you think :-)
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I look around my office – spacious, warm mahogany, comfortable leather seats, plaque after plaque on the cool gray walls. I've done well for myself in a short space of time – one of the benefits of good looks and celebrity clients – but I'm not happy.
I huff in frustration, just one more client and then I can finish for the day, hit the gym and get an early night. I haven't been sleeping well. The phone trills – I allowed my receptionist, Mariella, to finish early today because it's her oldest son's Bar Mitzvah.
"Dr Kemholt," I intone, "may I help you?"
"Gray," I recognize the voice instantly, hard not to when it's so distinctive and belongs to my oldest friend, "how are you, mon ami?"
"Frankie," as far as I know one of a tiny number of people allowed to call him that, "I've been better, to be honest. The soulless drudge of my life and my chosen profession might just be getting me down."
There's a rich baritone chuckle from the other end, "I can't do much about that, but I can offer you some relief. Come to the club tonight. I just finished training two new subs and I know you're going to like them; they're very enthusiastic."
"Not too enthusiastic I hope? You know I don't like punishment."
That laugh again, "Oh, Gray, I sometimes wonder why you chose to become a Dominant, mon frère."
"Well you know what we say..."
"You don't choose the life, it chooses you," we both finish together, and I find myself genuinely smiling.
I'm not sure I'm in the mood for the club, but François is right, it's possible it's what I need to get me out of my funk. I haven't been for months, since the relationship with my last sub...broke down, and maybe I just need to get back in the saddle...and stop hiding from whatever feelings it brings up in me.
Just then the quiet buzzer goes, letting me know that someone has entered the outside foyer. I bid Frankie adieu and stand, surprised, because Little Lord Fauntleroy is never early.
Not his name, just my next client. This one isn't one I get any joy from – he's a self-absorbed twink determined to plow through daddy's millions as quickly as possible, which his father lets him do provided he sees me twice a month so he doesn't become 'entitled'. The pair of them are delusional.
I pull the professional mask onto my face and open my office door, only to stop in shock. This isn't who I expected to see. The young man in my waiting area is as young as the twinkie brat, but I doubt he's ever flashed a black Amex, or smashed a bottle of Cristal on a bar because someone told him they didn't want to sleep with him.
His eyes are large and serious, a cool gray-hazel so clear I can see it from here, across the room. He's shorter than me, but not short – probably close to six feet. He's dressed casually, a hooded sweater and blue jeans, with battered Converse on his feet. He's pretty, undoubtedly, which is just my type, although the slight shake in his shoulders and meek way he averts his gaze to the floor is definitely not. Lucky, because he looks a lot more like he needs help from me than anything else.
He starts like a frightened horse, "Oh, I'm sorry...Doctor Kemholt?" he seems increasingly unnerved, but I don't know what by. I'm not that intimidating. Not outside of a scene anyway.
"Yes. May I help you?"
"Oh, uh, possibly. I was hoping I could see you...well, have an appointment with you, I have cash," he waves a handful of notes uncertainly.
"Uh, well you can book something in, I have an appointment due just now, I am quite booked up for a few weeks," cursing that obnoxious kid, not for the first time.
"Oh," he says that a lot, "it's okay. I was just looking for advice I suppose. My friend suggested you. I think it will be too late in a few weeks."
He shudders, as if struck by a cold wind, and I want to reach out to him, instead focusing my mind.
"May I ask why you didn't phone for an appointment?"
"Oh, I'm not allowed- I mean, I don't have a phone right now."
"Who is your friend?"
"Oh, uh, I don't think I should say, should I? You know, the confidentiality."
"Doctor patient confidentiality only extends between the doctor and the patient. You can tell me," I find myself slipping into my Dom voice, smooth and deep, almost by accident. There's just something about this young man that invites it. His face flushes and his eyes drop to stare at his battered sneakers.
"Oh. No, I just meant, like, between me and my friend. I mean, he didn't say I couldn't say anything, but I got the idea he'd get into trouble if- "
"I'm sorry I'm late Doctor Kemholt," the twink barrels in, insincere in his apology. Don't be, I think, I'm sorry you're alive.
The beautiful boy's eyes snap up to the twink, who has pushed past him with no regard, and I'm horrified to see fear in them. He mutters an apology and leaves, gently closing the office door behind him.
That was a strange interlude, and I'm feeling knots in my stomach from it, like I just missed something important, but I sigh and show the boy into my office, to listen to him bitch and moan about how unfair daddy is to put limits on his spending for forty-five minutes.
* * * * *
A/N: Just want to mention - Gray isn't always kind in his internal monologue, which I hope makes him real, but also I hope it demonstrates that he isn't in the best place right now, personally or professionally.
And, the French
mon ami = my friend
mon frere = my brother
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