When they put him into the chair we could see his entire body was bound in rope. No, not just rope: rope art, crisscrossed with artful knots and designs. The others retreated, taking the empty bag with them, and Sakura vamped for a bit, running her hand under Axel's chin, then removing the gag. She ran her hands over his cheeks and then made him suck on one of her fingers. I was as entranced as the rest of the audience. She circled him as she unwound the blindfold and then slapped him across the face. She really smacked him, too. Maybe it was intended to be a theatrical slap but I heard her make contact, even over the raucous music.
Axel grinned. If he was supposed to be playing the part of victim, he'd forgotten.
Sakura pulled him to his feet by his hair and gave him a matching slap on the ass, prompting a giddy-sounding "Ow!" from Axel and laughs from the crowd. I covered my mouth with my hand, trying not to laugh too hard myself. They were clearly having fun and their playfulness was infectious. It didn't feel like I was watching a sex scene, more like two friends were playing a round of charades.
Then Sakura pulled a knife from her boot and held it up menacingly. There was an audible "ooooh" from the audience as she waved it in sinuous curves in the air. She went around behind Axel and snip-snip-snip, the ropes magically fell away to reveal the outfit he was wearing underneath. It appeared to be styled as a sort of suit, almost military-looking, with leather accents along the lapels and tastefully placed studs. Sexy. Sultry. Powerful. I know I wasn't the only one there whose jaw dropped but I think I probably had a better reason for a strong physical reaction to the sight of him. My thighs clenched.
Axel did a turn in place while the volume of the music went up even more. I suppose Sakura left the stage with the chair but in my mind they simply disappeared as a set of footlights came up on Axel, my eyes and my mind focused entirely on him. Many in the room were transfixed. If I thought Sakura was magnetic, Axel was on a whole other level. It probably helped that he was one of the few men in a room full of mostly heterosexual women, and also that he was the "name" guest celebrity, but he also knew how to work a crowd. He stalked along the very edge of the stage, making flirty eye contact with individuals, posing, popping his lapels, running his hand through his hair. When he got to the very end of the runway he made a show of undoing a button. One button! When he shrugged the jacket back off his shoulders women screamed. I was as caught up as the rest of them. He slung it over one shoulder and began working his way back up the runway, taking his time. Every phone camera in the place was out by that point, and he seemed to take a moment to glance at each one as he went. At the rate he was going he was going to make eye contact with every woman in the place.
Except me. I felt a sudden stab of disappointment as he winked at Mandy Tink but breezed past me and Gwen, draping the jacket over the head of the same photographer Sakura had given her cigarette holder to earlier before continuing toward the curtain. He took another turn at the center section, showing off the sleeveless skin-tight PVC shirt, crisscrossed with strips of embedded leather and studs. His muscles shone with sweat in the lights and the tail of the dragon that showed on his upper arm seemed almost a part of the outfit. He took a few steps in my direction and I had the sudden, nonsensical hope that he was going to give me a look or a wink, but no, he was grabbing the jacket from the photographer.
And then, with a last wave to the now-screaming crowd, he disappeared through the curtain. I caught my breath. Quit it, Ricki, I thought. He did what you asked. You told him to ignore you.
He was back a moment later, first to take the group bow with Dara and Diff and their whole group of models, and then for the final walk for everyone in one huge parade. They stuck with music of Axel's band for the good-bye walk. I was no longer absorbing anything the emcee was saying. My eyes were glued on Axel.
I wasn't thinking clearly. Maybe I wasn't even thinking at all. And what on earth was this feeling, this gaping, burning feeling that only his eye contact, his touch, his attention could cure?
I texted him before I could stop myself. I need to see you. Now.
Then I pretended I had an urgent text, pretended I took a phone call, gave Gwen a quick kiss on the cheek and ran to the lobby as if I were trying to hear what the urgent phone call was.
I went out onto the sidewalk and looked around. I needed a plan, fast. Right. The motel where I had parked. Perfect. Funny how these things happen.
CHAPTER NINE
SIREN SONG
AXEL
There's no high like a performance high. I came off the stage pumped. Everyone was excited, of course, but you know when you've hit a home run. People were patting me on the back and other models who hadn't even glanced at me before were asking for my autograph and taking selfies with me. I looked around for Christina but she must have been out front, working the crowd for more money. Oh, right; they were drawing the raffle winners.
By the time I stripped out of the outfit and got my jeans on, Ricki's text to me was already fifteen minutes old. I need to see you. Now. When I saw it my heart leaped, then dropped. When a woman says now she means it. Where was she "now"?
I texted back before I could find my shirt. Whatever you need.
Her answer came so fast I still hadn't found my shirt. Palm Tree Hotel down the street. Room 212.
Well. That certainly looked like a booty call to me. I started composing a reply text in my head. Should I tell her to strip and wait for me? Kneel on the bed … ?
Hang on one sec, cowboy, I told myself. This was the woman who wanted to talk rationally over tea. This was also the woman who'd texted right before the show to say we should pretend not to know each other. Maybe she wanted to chew me out about something. Or maybe something in the performance had triggered her. What if she's freaking out over me and Sakura? What if she just really really needs to talk?
Knowing that Sakura would have my balls dangling from her rearview if I messed with her friend also helped me rein things in a little. Be right there, I texted back, hoping that was neutral enough for whatever might be expected.
I did take a moment to at least pull on a cotton tank top-Sakura's, I think-not even bothering to find my jacket in the chaos before I blew out of there faster than a speeding bullet.
The Palm Tree looked like it had seen better days, or maybe the management simply didn't care to maintain it well, but this close to the Staples Center and other stuff "downtown" maybe it didn't matter. A security guard was patrolling the parking lot, but no one even glanced my way as I went up to the second floor and found room 212.
I knocked. There was no answer and my skin started to prickle.
Then my phone buzzed with a text. Feel under the door for the key.
I looked down and could see the tiniest corner of the card key sticking out. That was ballsy, I thought, even as I began to wonder why she'd done that instead of answering the door.
Sometimes dreams come true, you know? I opened the door and found her naked on the bed, a hand towel draped across her eyes, her hands under the pillows and her legs spread. She had laid herself out in a drool-worthy tableau and I felt all the enthusiasm I had been trying to hold in check surge straight to my cock. So much for worrying she didn't want me/this/kink anymore …
But I still wanted to be cautious with her, because I knew how quickly she could spook. I closed the door firmly behind me and latched it. Then I put the key on the side table.
"Hello, Ricki," I said, so she'd be sure it was me.
She didn't move. I considered whether I should take the blindfold off and make her talk to me, now. Would she be disappointed if I did?
"Or should I say, Ms. Hamilton?"
She swallowed when I said that and I saw her abs tighten. Well, we surely needed to talk, but I took that as a clear sign Ricki wanted something other than a good heart-to-heart right then. She was making a gift of herself, all wrapped up and presented to me with a bow-it'd be rude to just brush that bravery aside.
And I do hate to disappoint anyone.
I sat on the edge of the bed and ran my fingers lightly across her stomach, watching her hips jerk and hearing her clamp down on a laugh.
I wondered if she'd ever been tickled into submission.
My fingertips trailed upward then, tracing her breastbone and then skimming the silken curves of her breasts, but never quite reaching the peaks of her nipples. Her chest rose from the bed like I was levitating her, seeking the touch I denied her.
Gorgeous. If you could see yourself, Ricki, you'd see how much your body yearns for this. Are you starting to understand that now? Is that why we're here?
I used both hands to skim her torso then, down her ribs, under the swell of her breasts where her bra had left a mark, along her collarbone and the undersides of her arms. I curled my fingers just so as I neared her armpits, eliciting a small noise, again on the bare edge of tickling her.
I wanted to hear more of that, so I kept going. There's a porn cliché about playing a girl like a violin-or is it a piano? This was more like a piano, as I sought out the places that would make her gasp, sigh, or trill.