Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
It wasn’t long after we returned home that Chere asked to visit the scene of our unraveling. I took her hand and led her inside the gray-walled room so we could face the demons together. I didn’t require nudity or speech restriction. For this conversation, we needed to be equals, not Master and slave.
“It looks the same.” She sounded surprised as she wandered toward the center of the space. “You haven’t changed anything.”
“No. I was waiting for you.” I joined her as we both turned toward the far wall. “In my opinion, there’s only one thing that really needs to go.”
“The sawhorse?” she asked hopefully, but she knew what I meant.
We crossed to the cage. She traced the metal bars with a mournful expression.
“It’s a shame,” I said. “You looked so beautiful when you were in there.”
“We don’t have to...” she said tentatively. “I mean, if you want to keep it.”
I shook my head. “Maybe we can have one again later. When a little time has passed, and we trust ourselves more.”
“You’re right. This one has too much bad juju attached to it.”
“Not bad juju.” I leaned over the cage and pulled out the first of the long, cylindrical end pins. “I was the one who did the bad thing. The cage was just doing its job.” I pulled out a second end pin, holding the structure so it wouldn’t collapse.
“That’s it?” she said as the panels rattled loose. “That’s all you have to do to put this cage together and take it apart? Just pull out those rods?”
“It’s a basic design. It held up, yeah?” I gave her a lopsided grin. “I’m a good engineer.” Just to mess with her, I turned one of the metal rods over in my hands. “Maybe we can find a use for this.”
She took it from me. “Uh, no. Remember? Bad juju.”
“How can you say it’s bad?” I asked, taking the rod back and carrying it with the others out toward the living room. “We learned a lot because of this cage. It definitely brought us to a better place.”
“After a bunch of violence and drama,” she called after me.
When I returned, she helped me pick up each panel and carry it out to the living room, where we stacked them against the wall.
“Think you can use these at your studio?” I asked. “Melt them down into other things? It’s good metal. Stainless steel and brass.”
She traced the gleaming bars as I stared at her fingers, their only adornment the delicate garnet ring. I thought about commitment and ownership, the healthy kind, not the captive-in-a-tower kind that really only existed in fairy tales. “Maybe you can make a ring with it,” I said, taking her hand. “An engagement ring.”
“I prefer that to making manacles. But stainless steel for an engagement ring?”
I let go of her hand and grabbed her ass. “I guess gold and diamonds are more traditional. I’ll buy the materials, you make the ring. How about that?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, looking adorably pleased.
Now that that was out of the way, I dragged her back into the dungeon. It looked better. It looked ready for us to begin again. “So,” I said, rubbing my hands together. “You’ve missed the sawhorse, I gather.”
“No, I haven’t missed it at al—”
“And where are those manacles you mentioned?”
“We just got back,” she pleaded.
“Quiet, slave. I suppose it’s time to revert to speech restriction again.”
Chere was rescued by the sound of the doorbell. She turned and ran out of the dungeon. “I’ll get it,” she yelled over her shoulder.
Ha. She had a date with the sawhorse and manacles whether she liked it or not, but I hadn’t really intended to play with her yet. I was expecting a delivery from the Gramercy Park Hotel. By the time I got out to the living room, four burly delivery guys with white gloves were easing a wrapped and padded rectangle through the door.
“Do you know what it is?” I asked Chere.
She looked puzzled as I directed the men to leave the package propped against the far wall. I’d have to have someone come in to mount it. All families needed a portrait over the fireplace. This would be ours, because it would always force us to see our reflections. We’d never let things go haywire again.
“Go ahead,” I said. “Open the wrapping. Just a corner. You’ll figure it out.”
She peeled back an edge of padding and brown craft paper. She drew in a breath as she saw her own eyes staring back at her.
“The mirror from the Gramercy. Oh, wow. And you let me cry and take a billion more photos of it this morning.”
“You know I love when you cry.”
She turned to me and made a face that transformed into a smile. “I’m so glad you kept it. I’m amazed they let you keep it!”