Dark Perception: The Corde Noire Series Page 15

  “So everyone keeps telling me.” Melinda turned toward the dressing room. “He never mentioned Julie to me,” she casually added.

  “Julie sure talked about him when she was in here.” Sandy moved away from the rack of dresses. “She would always go on about how generous he was and … how good he was in bed.”

  Melinda stopped halfway across the mirrored fitting area. “I’m surprised she mentioned that.”

  Sandy came up to her, carrying a pretty yellow cocktail dress with pearl beading in the hem. “Julie was always a regular Chatty Cathy about her sex life. She gave me the impression Nathan was real adventurous.” Her eyes lingered on the black cord around Melinda’s neck. “He gave her one of those collars, too.”

  Melinda’s hand went to the collar.

  “So … is he adventurous in bed?” Sandy persisted with a cheeky grin.

  Melinda smiled sweetly, playing innocent. “I wouldn’t know.” She was about to walk into the dressing room when she paused. “What else did Julie tell you about Nathan?”

  “Afraid that was it,” Sandy disclosed, hanging the yellow dress inside the dressing room. “Nathan never let her out of his sight for very long. She always clammed up when he was around. I think he didn’t want her spreading gossip about them.”

  Melinda inspected the yellow dress, deciding it wasn’t her style. “He never struck me as a man who cares what others think.”

  “Honey, Nathan isn’t the kind of man who likes to air his dirty laundry.” Sandy exited the dressing room. “If he’s like every other man I know, he’s probably got enough dirty laundry to keep every dry cleaner in the city busy for a year.”

  Sandy closed the two white shutters that divided the dressing room from the fitting area. “Every man has secrets, Melinda. My first husband was the sweetest, most doting guy I ever knew … until I found out he was gay. During our three years together, I never suspected a thing. Goes to show you how you can never really know anybody.”

  Half-listening, Melinda wiggled out of her jeans. “Sounds like the one serious relationship I had. In the end, I didn’t know him, either.”

  “Yeah, relationships are a real pain in the ass.” Sandy’s voice moved away from the dressing room door. “I think the key is not so much needing a relationship with someone, but wanting it. We all think we need one thing, but we really want something else. Until you figure out the difference, you’ll never find happiness with anyone.”

  “Did you ever discover the difference?” Melinda removed the eggplant dress from its satin-covered hanger.

  “Nah,” Sandy answered with a short snort. “The only thing I know is I want to design clothes, bury myself in work, and spend the rest of my days in New Orleans. I figured that’s enough for one lifetime.”

  While stepping into the dress, Melinda questioned, what did she want? She had spent so many years running after what she needed, she had never considered what she really wanted out of life.

  After easing the dress over her shoulders, her reflection in the mirror quelled her self-examination. The deep purple color of the dress accentuated the creaminess of her pale skin and red hair. The beadwork scintillated beneath the fluorescent lights above. She swung her hips and noticed how the beads shook ever so slightly against the smooth satin fabric.

  “You almost ready?” Sandy intruded.

  Melinda reached for the shutter doors. “Coming.”

  When she exited the small cubicle, Sandy’s tired brown eyes beamed with pride. “Damn, I’m good.”

  Melinda fingered the delicate fabric of the dress. “Yes, you are.”

  Sandy took her arm and scooted her toward the main shop floor. “Let’s see what Nathan thinks of this.”

  But when Melinda stepped outside the red curtains dividing the main shop from the fitting area, Nathan was nowhere to be seen. She had to meander through a few circular dress racks before she found him sitting on a bench in the corner of the shop, talking on his cell phone.

  “Let me call you back,” he said when he spotted her.

  After putting his phone aside, his eyes went over her like a TSA officer checking out a suspected terrorist at an airport.

  Melinda shifted anxiously on her bare feet. “Well?”

  Nathan’s sour countenance instantly told Melinda his thoughts and her heart plummeted. “I don’t want you to look like a hooker. It’s pretty and the color looks great on you, but no beadwork, just plain fabric. No lace, frills, nothing low-cut, and nothing showing too much leg or skin. I want you to look refined, polished, like the lady you are.”

  Melinda played with a few of the beads. “But it’s really a cute dress.”

  Nathan stood from the bench. “Tell Sandy to quit hocking her designer stuff on me and to give you something classy and elegant. Her tastes are better suited for Bourbon Street dancers, not professional women.” He kissed her cheek.

  “So, this isn’t the first time you’ve brought someone here,” Melinda coolly hinted.

  Nathan put his hands behind his back, grimacing. “Sandy isn’t very discreet, is she?”

  Melinda demurely lowered her gaze. “She mentioned you’ve come here in the past with other women. Is this a usual habit for you? To bring your latest conquest to this store and buy her clothes?” Waiting for his reply, Melinda kept her eyes on his brown loafers, reflecting on how his shoes matched the color in his elusive eyes.

  Nathan raised her chin. “I’ve had women before you, Melinda, you know that.” He let his hand fall. “Please don’t listen to anything Sandy tells you about how many women I’ve paraded through her doors. None of them are your concern.”

  Sensing she was about to tread on dangerous ground, Melinda asked, “What about Julie?”

  His eyes frosted over with rage. “Don’t speak of her ever again. Do you understand?”

  Melinda’s stomach fluttered with panic. She had pushed too hard. “I’m sorry. I should have … I promise never to mention her again.” Wanting desperately to appease him, she kissed his cheek. “Forgive me.”

  The fury retreated from his gaze. “If you ask me about the women in my past again, I will take you over my knee and …” He cleared his throat and stood back from her. “I think we’ll save that game for another day.”

  Bewildered, Melinda searched his face. “Save what game?”

  He patted her behind. “Something I like to do to bad little girls.”

  Images of him standing behind her and spanking her bare bottom came to life in her mind. She could sense his arousal and knew it was something he enjoyed doing to a woman. Would she enjoy Nathan doing it to her?

  Melinda held his hand against her butt. “Would you like it if I was a bad little girl?”

  His brown eyes twinkled. “Yes, I would like that, immensely.”

  She brought her lips to within inches of his. “So would I.”

  He rested his forehead against hers. “Damn, you’re killing me.” He slapped her ass. “Don’t keep Sandy waiting. Be a good girl and find something suitable to wear.”

  Heading across the shop, Melinda relished the possibility of being spanked by Nathan. Ellie had been right. This was a whole new adventure for her.

  “What did he think?” Sandy besieged as soon as Melinda stepped through the red curtains.

  “He wants something a little less … revealing,” Melinda reported, hoping to sound diplomatic.

  Sandy heaved a drawn out sigh. “Men. When you’re not theirs, they want you to dress like a streetwalker. When you’re theirs, they want to cover you up like a nun.” She waved Melinda toward the dressing room. “I know what he wants.”

  Melinda moved ahead, grinning. Yeah, I know what he wants, too.

  Chapter 14

  Later that evening, Melinda was putting her new outfits away in her walk-in bedroom closet and inspecting the conservative yet sophisticated wardrobe Nathan had selected. The assorted skirts, dresses, pantsuits, and blouses were not what she would have deemed prudish, but the designs were a bit mode
st. One would suspect Nathan didn’t want her to show any skin.

  Sighing, she ran her fingers over an expensive silk, tea-length, dark red dress, and suddenly the faint whisper of music floated through the air. Quickly putting the dress away, she faced her bedroom. The melody sounded vaguely familiar, but she could not place it. It was a sad piece, bereft of the life needed to make a tune memorable.

  Melinda moved toward her keyboard in her sitting room and the ghostly music suddenly stopped.

  “Hey, you almost done?” Nathan called from the bedroom door.

  She spun around to him. “Did you hear that?”

  He entered the room, drawing his dark brows together. “Hear what?”

  “I thought I heard music. It sounded far away.”

  He came up to her and ran his hands along her arms. “Melinda, you’re a musician, I’m sure you hear music all the time in your head.”

  “This wasn’t in my head.”

  “Are you suggesting I have a musical ghost in my building?” Nathan added with a chuckle.

  “No. It was just … there was something wrong with the music. Like it wasn’t being played right.”

  Nathan nudged her toward the bedroom door. “I have no idea what that means. How do you not play music right? Are you talking about missing notes or something?”

  “No, missing the emotion.”

  “You’ve lost me.” He walked her out of the bedroom. “Come on. Dinner is almost ready. I made us grilled sirloin steaks with oven roasted potatoes.”

  She gawked at him. “You can cook?”

  “Can grilling two steaks and throwing frozen potatoes in the oven be regarded as cooking?”

  Hooking her arm around him, she giggled. “It is to me.”

  “Yeah, well, wait until you taste it. I sure hope you like your steak well-done, because that’s what it’s going to be unless we hurry back to my place.”

  When Melinda stepped through her front door, she thought she heard the faint sound of music begin again, but she said nothing to Nathan.

  Perhaps it was just her imagination. After all, she was a musician and prone to having melodies haunt her. The only problem was, none of them had ever sounded quite as hopeless as that one felt.

  * * *

  Two glasses of Lambrusco wine helped Melinda wash down the overcooked steak and soggy potatoes. While Nathan cleared away their plates, Melinda turned around on her chrome stool by the breakfast bar and contemplated the collection of slavery relics on the wall. There was something unsettling about the artifacts that made her skin prickle. It was as if they held the key to a mystery Melinda felt compelled to solve.

  “I told you I’m not a cook,” Nathan imparted from the kitchen.

  She spun back around to him, lifting her glass of sweet wine to her lips. “No, I liked it.”

  He ran some water over the plates in the sink. “Please don’t lie to me, Melinda. It doesn’t suit you.”

  She gestured with her wineglass to the sink. “I’ll do the dishes since you cooked that delicious meal.”

  He laughed, sounding like a symphony. Melinda’s body tingled all over. “Leave it for Paula, my housekeeper. She’ll be by in the morning.” He picked up the bottle of wine. “You’ll like her. I’ll tell her to clean your place, too. It will save you from having to worry about vacuuming and cleaning toilets.”

  “Maybe I like cleaning my own toilets.”

  Nathan raised one dark eyebrow to her as he refilled his wine glass. “I hope you’re joking.”

  “You don’t need to keep doing things for me. The apartment, the clothes, the driver … now a housekeeper.”

  He put the bottle down. “Don’t you like being spoiled?”

  “Yes, very much, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep doing everything for me. I want you to know I’m not with you for the perks. I’m here because I want to be with you.”

  “You need to understand things have changed, baby. You’ll have to keep up certain standards from here on out.”

  “Standards?” She wrinkled her brow. “What are you talking about?”

  “Melinda, you’re going to be seen with me, represent me whenever we go out, and people will form their impression of me by what they see in you. It’s going to be very important for you to act and look a certain way. The clothes I got for you today are a start. Next week, I’m going to have people come over and do your hair, nails, and makeup. You need to look more sophisticated.” Nathan paused and his face grew somber. “And there can be no more outbursts like the one at Denise Becnel’s party. I want a woman next to me I can be proud of, I can show off, and most of all, I can trust to behave appropriately.”

  Melinda was waylaid. She sat on her stool digesting his expectations and feeling as small as a gnat.

  “I didn’t realize I was embarrassing you, Nathan.”

  He came around the breakfast bar to her stool. “You’ve never embarrassed me. I’m just asking you to remember it isn’t just about you anymore … it’s about us.” He touched the black collar around her neck. “I hope you understand this is going to help both of us get ahead.”

  She kept her eyes focused on her wineglass sitting on the breakfast bar. “I’m not upset, just … wondering why I’m here.”

  He ran his hands along her shoulders and let his fingers lightly tease the back of her neck. His touch made Melinda ache with longing.

  “You’re here because I find you to be the sexiest, most provocative woman I’ve ever met.”

  Melinda tried not to laugh. “Me … sexy?”

  “Incredibly sexy.” He reached for her white linen dinner napkin on the bar. “In fact, I’m going to show you just how sexy you are.”

  He folded the napkin over, pulled the ends out with both hands, and gently secured it over Melinda’s eyes.

  She reached up. “What are you doing?”

  He stayed her hands. “I need you to trust me.” He tied the napkin behind her head. “Do you trust me, Melinda?”

  The question circled in her thoughts like a hungry hawk. “I trust you, Nathan,” she finally declared.

  He took her hand. “Then come with me. It’s time to play a new game.”

  Melinda knew where this was going. Whatever protests she had originally wanted to voice failed when she thought of having Nathan inside her.

  He led her a few feet from the bar, guiding her gently in his arms. When he stopped and left her side, she was disoriented. Then she felt a tug on her right tennis shoe.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Shhh,” he told her as he slipped off her shoe.

  After removing her shoes and socks, he started on her button-down shirt. The way he undressed her while blindfolded was strangely erotic. Her yearning for him mounted with every passing minute. By the time he slid her beige cotton panties down her thighs, Melinda was panting with desire.

  For several seconds, she stood feeling the chilly air on her bare skin, but could no longer hear him moving about. As she went to reach for the blindfold, he held her hands.

  “No. You are to do as I say.”

  She nodded, lowering her hands to her sides. “Yes, Nathan.”

  He pinched her right butt cheek and she squealed. “You are always to address me as Sir when we play.”

  She giggled. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Bend over and grab your ankles.” His hand rubbed over her right butt cheek where he had pinched her. “I want to see how far I can push you.”

  “What are you—?”

  “You never ask questions during a game, Melinda. You only speak when spoken to. Understand?” His tone was menacing and very unlike what she was used to. “I tell you what to do, what to endure, and you will willingly take everything I give you. Now, bend over like a bad little girl.”

  Stretching for her ankles, she was apprehensive about what would happen next. What was she going to have to endure?

  His hand slapping her right butt cheek instantly answered her query. It wasn’t what s
he had expected, but Melinda was surprised to find it not so much painful as it was shocking. She had never been spanked before, even by her parents.

  “Did that hurt?”

  She shook her head, tightening her grip on her ankles. Daydreaming about being spanked in the dress shop had felt sexy. Bending over with her butt in the air, less so.

  He hit her again, harder than before. This time he left a sting on her bottom, but Melinda enjoyed the sensation. She liked the way he was making her nervous and excited at the same time.

  “What about that? Was that painful?” he whispered, his mouth right next to her ear.

  “No … Sir.”

  The next whack on her butt did hurt and she yelped.

  “That was to remind you that I am your Master.” His lips grazed her back. “Good girl. You did well.”

  She nodded, biting her quivering lower lip while a few tears gathered in her eyes.

  Nathan’s hand caressed her right butt cheek, and instantly Melinda forgot about the pain. His fingers were moving closer and closer to the valley between her legs. With every passing stroke of his hand, she ached for him to touch her.

  The next slap wasn’t over her butt cheek; it was right against her folds. She stepped forward, overcome by the shockwave of the blow.

  Nathan pulled her back into position, forcing her hands to her ankles once more. She could smell the wine on his breath and feel the caress of his clothes against her skin.

  “Did you like that, Melinda?”

  Was it wrong to admit she did like it? Somehow this game felt dirty, but Melinda liked being bad … more than she had realized.

  “Yes, Sir. I liked it.”

  Hoping for more, Melinda prepared for the next slap, splaying her legs apart. But Nathan must have sensed her expectation, because instead of slapping her folds, he slipped his fingers into them.

  “You’re so wet. You do like this game, don’t you?”

  When she felt his hand move away, the slap that connected to her wet flesh knocked her to her knees. Her body was vibrating and she didn’t know if she could stand.

  Nathan was next to her, taking her hands and helping her from the floor. He led her forward until her knees brushed up against something. The sofa?