Midlife Correction Ch. 01

Julia didn't want him to get the wrong idea about the cuffs and a husband she didn't have so she added, "Divorced. Seven years."

He nodded and smiled. "Small world. Five years for me."

That seemed to break the tension. They were a pair of losers. They could relax.

He took the cuff off her wrist and put it with the other. "Pick them up tomorrow then. Or I could have them ready tonight. We stay open till nine."

"Tomorrow."

"Fine."

He measured the circumference of her wrist as she stood there, conscious of the tape on her wrists and his fingers pulling it tight. Despite herself she still felt a thrill. Miles grasped her hand.

"Hold still," he joked. "You're shaking."

"Am I? I'm not. I'm not, am I?"

He laughed but she couldn't decide whether he was teasing or not.

"How much are they? Let me pay for them now."

"As I said, fifty dollars."

"I meanreally, Miles. I saw the price tag."

He smiled at her. "I'm giving them to you at cost. I mark them up shamelessly."

"You're lying," she said. "I'll give you a hundred. Then I'll call you tomorrow to see if they're ready."

"All right. If you insist. Call me tonight. They'll be done. I'm open late."

She paid him in cash and he wrote her up a receipt.

"What name should I use?"

"Call me Julia."

"All right, Julia." He smiled at her. The knowing brown eyes and Pan's beard. He looked like he knew things about her she didn't, but coming from him, she didn't mind. There was something she trusted in him.

She folded the receipt and put it in her wallet. "Now tell me something, Miles. You're involved in this, aren't you? In using all these things, the cuffs and whips and everything?"

"The lifestyle? D/s?"

"D/s?"

"It stands for dominance and submission. Where one person takes charge of another. They also call it the lifestyle, the scene, the life..."

"The lifestyle. Yes," she plunged ahead, not letting herself stop and think. "You're involved in it?"

"Yes."

"With Inga?"

He laughed. "God, no. No. Inga's not my type at all."

Julia ignored the sense of relief she felt.

"What if someone were interested in finding out more about it?" she asked. "Is there like a club or private organization?"

He smiled, showing white teeth. "You're pretty bold, aren't you?"

"I'm sorry. Did I say something wrong?"

"No, no. Not at all. But you've come a long way from the lady who came in wearing sunglasses while it was snowing the other day."

Julia smiled. "I'm sorry. My friends say I have a habit of being too blunt."

"Oh, bluntness is good. Bluntness is very good. But no. I mean, yes, there are some private clubs in the city you could join, but you wouldn't want to, not as an unattached woman. Not unless you had a lot of money you wanted to spend just to be hit on by a bunch of men who wanted to make you their slave."

"No. That's exactly what I don't want. I was hoping for something more like a discussion group. A woman's group, maybe. Support, that kind of thing."

The smile left his face. "There's a problem, Julia? I know a few people who run groups, if that's what you're looking for. They deal with all sorts of issues and specialize in the lifestyle. I could get you their names. Is there a problem?"

She caught herself, feeling suddenly embarrassed. "Problem? What sort of problem?"

He shrugged. "Oh, some people get in too deep. It becomes something of an obsession. Some people have problems with their partners. Some people just want to talk. People are people. We have the same kinds of problems as everyone else, and everyone has problems, don't they?"

She forced a laugh. "Yes, but no. Of course not. There's no problem. I was just curious. I don't even know why I'm telling you this. Just curiosity."

She caught sight of the clock behind the counter. "Oh my gosh! I'd better go. I'll call you about the cuffs, Miles. I've got to go."

And she whirled out of the shop.

Chapter Three

Julia rushed home and didn't bother changing her clothes. She went to the kitchen junk drawer where she had a role of black plastic electrician's tape and she took it up to her bedroom. Removing her watch and bracelets, she wrapped several turns around her left wrist and just stared at it. It was beautiful in some way she didn't understand.

Everyone has problems, she thought.Some people get in too deep. That was nonsense. She was just curious. It was just sex play, something that felt good, something she'd been curious about since she'd been a little girl with thoughts of dashing knights rescuing her from dungeons where evil sorcerers had her tied up in bondage. She remembered tying her wrists with her jump rope and lying in her bed, strangely excited, not even knowing what her captor would do to her next, just that feeling of delicious helplessness..

She had a harder time doing her right wrist with her left hand but she managed, and when she was done she raised her wrists and looked at herself in the mirror.

There was some terrible magic here that made her feel whole and complete and terribly sexy. She no longer felt like a mother, no longer felt like an employee and a paralegal. She felt like a sex slave, like someone who might have the dreams Julia was having lately, like someone who might even live those dreams.

Suddenly inspired, Julia went to her purse and got her keys. They were attached to a large clip, and she quickly took them off—her car keys, her office keys, her keys to her mother's house and her house—and she worked the clip under the tape so her hands were locked together.

The effect on her was stunning. With her hands pinioned together she felt suddenly helpless and vulnerable, terribly sexual. She was suddenly aroused. She looked at herself in the mirror and thought she'd never seen anything so sexy. There she was in her beige sweater and slacks with her wrists bound together, and she looked positively whorish.

There was one thing she was missing, she thought: a collar. A collar around her neck. Did she have the nerve for that?

Suddenly she panicked. She had just managed to work the clip under the tape and now her hands were so close together that she couldn't reach it. She was trapped. What if Beth and Mal should find her like this? What would she say? She tugged at the bonds and the tape stretched stubbornly but not enough to get herself free. She remembered Miles's warning about autorestraint. This must be what he'd been talking about. She tried to bite the tape but it was hopeless.

Finally she managed to get her knee up between her wrists and, pressing against the clip, stretched the tape enough that she was able to work the clip loose.

Never do that again, she thought as she tore the tape off and stuffed it deep into the waste basket. She stood rubbing her arms but the thrill she'd felt remained. It had been terribly erotic, and now she had the most wicked thought.

She walked across the street to Skip's house.

"Julia. How are you, honey?"

"Skip, can you keep an eye on the girls tonight?"

"What's tonight? Thursday? What do I watch on Thursday? Sure, Julia. Working?"

"Yeah. I've got some stuff in the office that won't wait."

"No problem."

"Thanks, Skip. You want to come for dinner? Spaghetti."

"No, honey. I confess to the sin of frozen lasagna."

"Oh my God, Skip! I forgot! I owe you a lasagna dinner! I was supposed to cook for you!"

"Oh? You got the hint?"

"Oh Skip! I'm so sorry! Things have been such a madhouse!"

"That's all right, Julia. I'll just waste away to nothing. I don't mind."

"No seriously, next Tuesday. I'll make two pans. You can have one for your very own. I promise."

"Well you don't have to kill me with kindness, honey. I'm just trying to make you feel guilty. I'll settle for a few tears."

"You've got them, Skip. Honestly. I feel terrible. But can you do this for me tonight?"

"Of course, Julia. You know I'm your lasagna slave. I'll be over as soon as I finish in the kitchen."

"Okay. Thanks, darling. I'll talk to you later then. I have meatballs to defrost."

"Sounds soo Italian. Ciao, Bellisima."

But walking back, she had doubts about her plan. She decided she wouldn't call him first. She'd just drive over there and see if he was open or not. If he was, fine. If not, then that would be fine too. She'd just go home and say she'd changed her mind. She'd let Miles decide for her.

It wasn't like her, but then none of this was like her.

She wasn't fooling herself. She knew her position in life. She had no illusions about romance at her age and she wasn't looking for romance. There was something she wanted to try, though, something she wanted to taste, and she thought Miles could give it to her. She thought he was willing.

The question was whether she was willing, whether she was ready to take the chance.

She didn't want to be anyone's slave. That was simply out of the question. She wasn't made that way—too stubborn and independent. But just to feel what it was like to have someone's cuffs on her wrists and someone's collar around her neck, just to feel that sense of security and danger. She wanted very much to know what that was like.

She picked up the girls and said something about having to meet with Danny and a client after dinner, then stopped at the store, and out of guilt bought them a frozen pizza for a late snack. She was a bit non-plussed at how unconcerned they were about her working. It seemed to her that everyone should know what was going on and where she was really going, but no. They rushed through dinner, and she changed, then jumped into the car and ran to the office.

She couldn't lie to the girls. She went to her desk and worked on a report for Danny for a few minutes, threw some papers into her briefcase and left.

There. She'd been to work.

Miles's place had no sign, no bright lights. She couldn't see as she approached it if he was still open, but when she drew abreast of the shop she saw the lights in the windows were still on and she felt a clenching in her stomach. She found a parking spot and pulled in.

You're just going to pick up what's yours, she told herself.There's no need to be so nervous. She felt suddenly overdressed in the black skirt, pearl-gray blouse and black jacket, but she wanted him to think she was coming straight from dropping off her girls, not as though she were making a special trip. She slid out of the car and locked it.

It was starting to snow as she walked down the street to the shop, but it wasn't cold and her boots kept her legs warm. The neons of the shops and the street lights glowed softly in the thick, falling flakes. Christmas was coming and the decorations were up but there were few people out tonight and it had a slightly forlorn feel. Julia leaned on the door to Miles's shop and it opened.

Miles was there, talking to a customer in an overcoat. He looked up when he saw her come in and his eyebrows went up. He gave her a subtle signal to wait, then he returned to his customer.

Julia hadn't counted on this, that someone else would be in the shop, and she quickly faced the jewelry case, turning her back to the man. Thankfully, he didn't turn around, and Miles was just ringing up his purchase and having him sign the credit card slip. Julia gave way as the man passed by, hiding n the collar of her coat.

"Well," Miles said after the man had left. "Back so soon."

"I was in the neighborhood."

He nodded. He wasn't buying it. "Fine. Well, they're ready. I'll get them."

Julia approached the counter and Miles came out of the back with a tissue lined box. He laid it down on the glass display case and took out a cuff.

"Now let's see," he said.

He opened the straps and took her right wrist and laid it in the cuff, not even asking her permission, and he took his time sliding the straps through the buckles. Julia was hypnotized, embarrassed, but too entranced to say anything. She felt the cool satin against her skin grow tight as he pulled it snug and buckled it, then tugged on the cuff.

"How's that, then? Tight enough?"

"Yes," she said dryly. "It feels fine.

He took the other cuff out of the box and put it on her left wrist and tightened it up.

"Make a fist," he said. "Not too tight?"

"No. Perfect."

He took her wrists in his hands and held them, as if checking the fit, and Julia was aware of his hands on her, of his hands on the cuffs, holding her. Her heart was starting to beat faster.

They feel good," he said. "Not too tight."

"No," she said. "Not too tight."

"Not too loose."

"No. Not too loose either."

He let go of her. The light from the case was shining up in his face, making him glow, making him look radiant.

"You'll excuse me, Julia. It's past closing time. I don't want anyone coming in. I'm going to lock the door and hit the lights. I'll only be a minute."

Julia heard him but he seemed so far away. She stood there dumbly, looking at the black leather cuffs on her wrists, and suddenly it was as if she had no will of her own. She heard him throw the bolt and heard the jangle of keys in the lock. She was aware of the front of the shop going dark, then Miles was back. He wasn't smiling anymore.

"They're exquisite, Julia. They look beautiful on you."

"They're nice, yes." Her voice seemed to come from a distance.

"You really want to know, don't you?" he asked.

Julia looked at him.

"To be bound. To have your freedom taken from you and be put in someone else's hands. You want to know what that's like. You don't have anyone else and you can't do it by yourself, but I can show you?"

"Miles, I¼"

"You can trust me, Julia. Just let me show you what it's like."

Alarm bells went off in her head, alarm bells because she did trust him. He'd made the cuffs she wore on her wrist and because there was something in his eyes she trusted and had trusted since she'd first met him. And now, standing in the dim light under an overhead spotlight, it was like she was on stage with him in a scene that had been planned out long in advance.

"I won't do anything you don't want me to do, Julia. We aren't children. Take off your coat. Give it to me."

She put her bag on the case and slipped out of her coat. She handed it to him and he put it on the case as well, then he reached into the case and took out a chrome clip. As Julia watched fascinated, he clipped one end to a ring in her right cuff, and the other to the left cuff.

"This is something what it's like," he said.

She looked down at her wrists held in the shiny leather cuffs and the chromed clip between them and felt that same surge of sexual excitement, but stronger now, because a man was with her and a man had bound her wrists. She brought her hands to her face and stared at them, then tried to pull them apart. She saw him smile.

"God, I feel so stupid!" she said. "Why does this do this to me?"

"Some of us," he said. "Are born to it. You had thoughts about this when you were a little girl, didn't you?"

"Yes. I did."

"And now they're coming back to you."

"Yes! How did you know?"

"I know you, Julia, and I was hoping you'd come back. You don't know how much I was hoping you'd come back. I have something for you in the back. Come with me."

"Miles¼"

"Come with me, Julia. Please."

He led her around the counter and into the back of the store, and she followed him because she wanted to be led, because she trusted him and because she had the cuffs on now and she wasn't quite who she'd been when she walked in. In back was an office and stock room and a bit of an apartment with a kitchenette and a sitting room with a daybed and a television and chairs, and hanging from the center of the sitting room from two hooks in the ceiling was a chain, the ends about four feet apart.

Without comment, he positioned her in between the ends of the chain and unclipped her wrists, then reclipped them to the ends of the chain so her hands were at roughly shoulder level and spread apart. Julia watched him do this to her as if she were someone else, her heart beating in her chest. This was insane. She couldn't believe she was letting him do this to her, and yet she couldn't tell him to stop—she didn't want him to stop—she was terribly excited and embarrassed by her own complicity, drunk on her own tense excitement.

"This is what it's like, Julia," he said. "This is what it's like at the start."

Julia pulled at the chains, half-thinking they'd let go, that this must be some sort of joke, but they held her, the links clanking softly.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he asked. "This is why you came back tonight. I could see it in you, Julia. You had to know. I understand that. I understand what it's like."

"What are you going to do to me?"

"What do you want me to do?"

She didn't say anything.

"Seriously, Julia. What do you want me to do? I'm here to serve you. It's your call. Think about it. I'll do whatever you want."

There was a window high in the wall and through it Julia could see snow falling in a streetlight in the alley. Snow falling gently, quietly, like in a Christmas card. She was wearing her nice gray blouse and a velvet jacket over a good wool skirt and black boots and her wrists were bound to a sturdy chain in the back room of a stranger's store. Who even knew she was here?

"I want you to let me go."

Miles didn't move for a moment. Then he said, "All right, if that's what you want..." and he started to unclip her right wrist from the chain.

"No," Julia said. "Stop. I don't want that. Put it back."

He stopped, then reattached the clip to her cuff with a soft click.

"Turn the lights off," she said.

Miles went to the wall and hit the switch and the lights went off, leaving the room in darkness except for the light that still came in from the front of the store and the streetlight that came through the window high on the wall, dim, with the shadows of falling snowflakes in it.

"What do you want to do to me?" Julia asked. "Tell me that. Tell me honestly. I want to know what I make you want to do to me when I'm like this."

"You might think less of me," he said. "You might not like what you hear."

"I don't care. I want to know."

"All right. I want to fuck you. I want to take possession of you. Seeing you like that makes me want you, Julia. I want to touch you and violate you and have my way with you. I want to force you to do lewd and terrible things, Julia. I can't help myself. That's what I want. I wanted that from the first time I saw you in my shop. I prayed you'd come back."

She stood there in the darkness listening to him, aware that her breathing was quickening and growing deeper. It was almost what she wanted to hear but not quite, not dirty enough. She didn't know how to ask for what she wanted though.

She closed her eyes. "Tell me more," she said. "Tell me everything."

He came up to her and moved behind her and then his hands were on her hair, pulling it back from her ears and holding it behind her neck. His lips were by her ear and he was almost whispering: "I want to fuck you. I want to strip your clothes off you and plunge my cock into you, Julia. I want you bound so you can't move, and I want to feel you as my prick moves in and out of you. I want to feel your body moving against me as you take me, do you understand? If you don't fuck me I want to use a whip on you until you do. I want to make you my whore, Julia. That's what I want to do to you. I want to make you my whore."

His lips found the side of her neck and she felt a bolt of wild energy surge through her body, so intense she thought her legs might buckle. This was what she'd wanted, she realized. This was what she'd wanted, but now that it was here, she didn't know if she could go through with it. Yet how could she stop it?