Chapter Two

Gillian’s suit was a blue/green summer tweed, the skirt short, tight and ass hugging, the jacket cut with a “V” neckline that plunged to mid-breast. She wore nothing else but a lacy pale green bra, thigh high stockings, and a triple strand pearl necklace at her throat. With her hair softly combed around her shoulders, the gentle cascade softened what could be an uncompromising appearance, poised, haughty and demanding. She moved quickly, if not a bit anxiously, through the marbled-columned entrance and lobby toward the elevators, up three flights to the office of Thaddeus Chamberlain. On time for her appointment, she was ushered into the richly paneled office without waiting. Making a brisk appraisal of the room, she noted the Renaissance decor with a bit of surprise. Comfortable fabric couches, no leather, but ivory on ivory upholstery and drapes, and though the desk was a masculine piece, it was so richly carved, the surfaces looking vibrant and so soft, she was tempted to run her hands along them as she might the muscles of a man’s chest. The scene took her by surprise.

“You look startled?” the man behind the desk asked her, seeing the striking blonde pause an instant too long, revealing a moment’s discomfort.

She regained her aplomb instantly, and strode toward his desk, offering her hand as he stood to greet her.

Thaddeus Chamberlain’s bearing was highlighted by a dash of European charm that wavered somewhere between classically formal and alluringly casual, with enough ease to soften her once apparent jitters and enough forbidding handsomeness to keep her clearly at arm’s length. He had a smooth, clean-shaven complexion, wavy chestnut hair he combed back at his forehead and a pair of bronze eyes that held the young lawyer clearly in their grasp—if only for a second before she spoke.

“Mr. Chamberlain, Gillian Brahms.” He did not let go her hand until these first words of introduction were uttered.

“I am familiar with you, Ms. Brahms,” he returned. “Having gone up against you twice in court.”

“I don’t think I remember,” she was forced to wonder aloud, while her mind worked franticly to recall any previous meetings. One would think an attractive woman sparring with such an attractive man, the event would have been memorable. “Did I win?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She looked honestly sheepish. What command of the meeting she might have had was summarily destroyed.

“Are you here about a case?” he asked.

“No, no, not at all,” she almost stammered. But then, Thaddeus motioned her to sit and that seemed to soothe her.

Taking a deep breath, she began. “While my apartment building is being renovated, I’ve been living in Katherine McPherson’s apartment. Your firm sent her to Milan last fall?”

“I do recall that, yes,” he replied.

“So, I’ve been fortunate to have her delightfully styled home to relax in.”

“How nice for you.” He was pleasant, but growing impatient with Gillian’s unhurried explanation for her visit.

“I stumbled on something several days ago which I think might interest you,” she continued, as she drew the black linen-bound book from her purse. “I’m sure I was not supposed to see this, but I had a bit of an accident with a rusty fireplace flue which has required a thorough cleaning—and I’m afraid a paint job—of Kate’s apartment. While I was tearing apart the bookcase to dust off the soot, I found this wedged behind a shelf of paperbacks.”

Thaddeus reached across his desk for the slim volume Gillian placed in front of him.

“It’s her diary,” she informed him as he cracked the spine, giving her the same erotic jolt she had the first time she opened it. “To make a long story short, Mr. Chamberlain, I thought it best to deliver this into the hands of someone that will appreciate its value. There are some incredible things recorded inside—that given the names and places she mentions, I suspect speak the truth. It would make terrific fiction, but it makes even better fact—especially since she confirms that this sex club does indeed exist. It has been rumored about for years. She goes into a very believable chronicle, amazing as it is, of her initiation rites, the secret insignia and a variety of mysteries that paint a fascinating picture of female sexual surrender.”

“Oh?” Thaddeus remained impeccably cool.

“Don’t play cagey with me,” Gillian went on. “You know exactly what that book says.”

“And what is your purpose with it?”

“I wouldn’t have come here if I wanted to expose the club—though this could make for quite a splash in the newspapers, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure it would.” He leafed through the volume, studying a few significant pages, and then closed it as though he was honestly unconcerned. And yet, he scrutinized the woman quite carefully. “Why, then, are you here, Ms. Brahms?” he finally asked.

She shook just a bit, like she had when she first arrived, but then spoke quite directly. “The truth is, Mr. Chamberlain, I would like to become a member of the club.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She stared him directly in the eye.

He cleared his throat while looking condescendingly amused. “I’m afraid it wouldn’t work quite that easily,” he said.

“And why’s that?”

“Assuming the story in the diary is true, and I was part of that story, I could assure you that members of the club would be chosen; hand-picked, if you will. Membership would not be something you could request.”

“Not even if my knowledge of your secret society came upon me innocently, and so moved me to come to you?”

“I doubt if the club would act on your request, Ms. Brahms. Your appearance here almost has a ring of blackmail.”

“No, sir, not at all,” she immediately retorted with a degree of force she commonly used only inside the courtroom when she wanted to make her point clear.

“Perhaps you found Ms. McPherson’s exploits interesting, even highly arousing reading. She seems to be quite a wordsmith. Perhaps you’ve even laid back on your bed at night with your hand at your crotch reading this journal, and playing with your naked pussy until you came, imagining yourself in Ms. McPherson’s place.” His startling words mesmerized her—having the power to woo her beyond the desire already aroused by the journal. “Perhaps all that’s true,” he went on, “but I’m certain you’ve missed the tenor of this fantasy organization and what would have allowed it to function so smoothly over a number of years. You’re a powerful woman in this town. Few women like yourself would be suited for membership. The club would make powerful women of timid ones, but rarely would they find your finest assets are assets to club membership.”

“I heartily disagree, Mr. Chamberlain. You can’t even presume to know what resides in my sexual fantasies; what beats so strongly in my loins.”

“Perhaps not. But a secret society like this wouldn’t take chances, would it? Their way of life could be compromised by rebellious women who erroneously claim to be submissive. That is why its members would be carefully picked, and membership would not be recruited like that of your local country club. In the event that such a club actually exists, and I was privy to their secrets, or had some way with those who oversee it, you’d still remain an unlikely candidate.”

“I think you’re mistaking a practiced public persona for the private one,” Gillian replied. “But just so you understand, I in no way plan to undermine your organization. Keep the diary. I suppose that might upset Kate, but as you see, I have my motives. I could have kept the thing and enjoyed its contents privately as long as I’m staying in her home. But I still have my desires, and I would welcome a change in your evaluation of me.”

“I’m afraid that everything you say only confirms that evaluation, Ms. Brahms. We cannot change what is inherently in our hearts. And you, my dear Gillian, are not a submissive woman.”

She breathed out discontentedly, but remained poised.

“Thank you for the diary,” he added. “I’m sure I’ll find it is as interesting reading as you did, though I’m inclined to look on it more as fantasy that fact.”

“You can remain shrewd and obtuse, Thaddeus Chamberlain, but you will also lose in the end.”

“Now you’re sounding like the lawyer you are, Ms. Brahms. I’d suggest you get back in court where you function so well.”

She smiled, even warmly, and left the office.

The video camera taping the appointment of Gillian Brahms and Thaddeus Chamberlain did not capture her retreat, but that was not necessary. As the lights in the conference room went on, the grainy colored pictures of Thad’s office disappeared from the TV screen in front of the four watching men.

“Well, there you have it. Our first solicitation. What do you think?”

“Seems to me you gave away a good deal you didn’t have to.”

“Unfortunately, when you read the diary, you’ll understand that there was little way to cloud the truth. Kate’s personal confessions were both graphic and very frank. I think we’d better address her request seriously.”

“She’s a ballsy broad,” John Redford immediately replied.

“I watched her work a courtroom with the finesse of an attorney twice her age and experience,” Vince Calleoni interjected. “Couldn’t be much more than thirty, I’d say.”

“Prime membership age,” Thaddeus noted.

“You’d actually consider her?” Redford exclaimed. “Good God, she’d wind our nuts in a rope and coat them with tar and feathers before she’s done.”

“You have any idea who this woman knows in this city?” Vince continued. “I’m worried she’s scanned that diary and has copies ready to use any time she needs it. There’s no telling how her knowledge could affect hundreds of court cases and business deals in the next twenty years.”

“I think you’re inflating her power,” the lone silent member of the quartet interrupted the spirited clash. To that point, Mike Bellamy had sat on the sidelines thoughtfully observing.

“Inflated or not, we have reason to be concerned,” Redford said.

“Why not give her what she wants,” Bellamy rejoined.

“Are you crazy?” Vince shot back at him.

“I don’t think so, gentlemen.” Mike casually rose from his chair, his well-built compact body rising just shy of six feet, though he had the stature of a man much taller. His thick sandy hair was slightly disheveled and behind bushy brows the gleam in his amber eyes was unmistakable. There was often a whimsical expression on his face that added to his boyish appeal. And though a chiseled square jaw suggested a firm character, there was nothing but charm in his handsome face. Looking as though he’d just climbed off a horse after riding the range, his appearance contradicted the truth about him. He might look like a casual cowboy dressed in slick city clothes, but at heart, he was inarguably ruthless, one of the clubs most pitiless masters. “I saw a nervous woman in that video tape. I saw quivering thighs and a jaw clenched too tightly, and vulnerability and acquiescence befitting our most docile submissive lambs.”

“You’ve gone daft,” Vince exploded. “You could hardly see her expression in that tape.”

“But I know it was there, just by hearing the sound of her voice.”

“You’d risk this club, Bellamy, to match your wits with her?” Redford queried.

“What’s the risk? Better to have her inside the club than out. Better to have Gillian Brahms caught on video tape in a dozen salacious acts of sexual exposure, as have her hold the contents of a dangerous diary in her grasp, while we wonder when she’s going to pull it out in court, or over some conference table when one of us has a few million on the line.”

“If you see submissiveness in that performance, then you saw more than I,” Vince said.

“I saw everything I wanted to see, but more importantly felt everything I wanted to feel.”

“And could you feel the knife blade behind her words?”

“I could feel their sting, yes. But, I trust myself, gents, even if you don’t. I’ll own her in three months. And just so you don’t worry, in three weeks, I’ll have her creaming her panties, if she wears them …”

“I did see an ass crack underneath that skirt,” Redford interjected.

“In three weeks she’ll be too confused to even remember the difference between what she read in that diary and her real life. I’ll own her.”

“You want her, you have her, Bellamy,” Thaddeus said. “But I warn you, take her slowly and make her wait, make the anticipation in her breed with her lust. And when you strike, do so with an iron fist. This one requires patience first, let her desires build and then, quick measures.”

“You doubt my methods, Thad?”

“I don’t want mistakes here, friend. You master her, be sure you master her soul, because mastering her body won’t be enough.”

“I’ll have her subdued and neutralized in three weeks. Give me my full three months, I’ll have her thoroughly trained and put her up against any of your sluts.”

“Right,” Vince retorted with a derisive sneer.

Mike shrugged.

“We trust you only because of the women you’ve trained before, Bellamy. But this one…”

“Maybe you would be advised, Thad, to worry less about Gillian Brahms and more about Kate McPherson. It is her disregard for the rules that has spawned our concern.”

Thaddeus ignored the comment, though the snarl on his face was noticed by the three others. “If there are no further comments, I do have a plane to catch,” he announced.

“With Mike going to fuck over Ms. Brahms, I’m happy enough,” Vince said.

“And I’ll be watching,” Redford added.

Mike Bellamy had only to smile—a reminder of the artfully treacherous charm that had so wittingly wooed the club’s submissive members to unparalleled obedience.