The Author Pt. 02

Part 2: Discovery

May 11th 2007: Jennifer stood staring at the damn door. It used to be called the basement door, now in her mind it was the damn door. It was solid oak, like all the doors in the house, but this one was always locked. The normal handle lock was present, but there was also a heavy deadbolt, which was driving her insane. A deadbolt for a door going from inside the house to a basement with no door outside was paranoid wasn't it?

Jennifer worked in the house, forty hours a week, sometimes more, sometimes less, she was the confidential assistant to William Carter, the famous mystery writer. She had been working for Bill for six months, since she had been hired in November, and other than a few details, loved her job. Probably because she had fallen in love with Bill minutes after meeting him. Her attempts to flirt or make passes at him had all been returned, but Bill had never followed up on those verbal games. Occasionally Bill would stand very close to her, leaning over her to read something or explain the way he wanted to see something done, and Jennifer would feel her insides melt, and her heart would ache for the day when he would place his arms around her, and kiss her deeply. Jennifer was convinced the key to his heart lay in the basement. It had to, there was no reason for a deadbolt lock on the door otherwise.

Jennifer's job had her in the home office with him all day, and most of the time all she had to do was answer fan mail forwarded from the publisher. This wasn't as hard as it might seem as almost all the questions that people asked had answers prepared in snippets saved to the computer. Jennifer would personalize these responses into a quasi form letter, which would then be printed, folded, and mailed each day. She had to arrange travel and hotels when he would fly off to do a book signing or some interview.

For the mailings, there was a stack of publicity photographs and a slick program that would sign them in Bill's handwriting with whatever message Jennifer thought was appropriate. She handled all of Bill's daily detail stuff so he could write. Mysteries usually sell fairly well, and Bill's books were very popular. He had a dedicated fan base, because he never withheld a clue, always giving the key information somewhere. He would give you something terribly small, seemingly insignificant in the early part of the book, and then use it to solve the mystery later. This early vital clue, the one small detail, was the needle in the haystack that would solve the case. Bill was also good at giving you false clues, things that seemed important, or pointed to one character who was really innocent, Bill would usually tossed in a couple of those to fool the reader.

Among the few small annoyances in working for Bill was that he would disappear for the weekend twice a month or so, without any information on where he was going. She was specifically forbidden from calling his cell phone, and in case of an emergency, she could send a text message. An emergency being defined as death, dismemberment, or the house burning down. There was also the damn door.

Jennifer was working on solving that particular mystery, she was convinced she had clues to the mystery of the damn door. One just had to be a clue. For the past month, she had been working this clue and found nothing so far.

Six weeks ago, he had returned from one of his reclusive weekends away, and Jennifer was in an insulted mood. She was the confidential assistant, and supposed to be involved in everything, but he cut her out whenever he felt like it. She had made this point before, and during this discussion, she pointed out how he was too valuable to disappear like that, and needed to work with her. His answer had been a clue, it had to be.

"Jennifer, I don't think you're really in the position to chastise me, just in case you had forgotten who the boss is." Bill had said ending the discussion.

Chastise, he had never used that word before, or since. He had never written the word in any of his books. It wasn't a word he used and Jennifer had searched all the texts of his books in the computer. It had to be a clue, it just had to be. There were other clues that said the key had to be here. In Bill's second book, the investigator was looking to enter a house, and told his partner "When you're trying to get into a locked house, look close to the door for a hidden key." In the book, they found a key, but didn't just about everyone hide a key within a few steps of the door?

Jennifer was currently in the library located across the hall from the basement door looking for the key, feeling that it had to be hidden here. The house was empty because Bill was off on one of his secret weekends. She had time to work the clues.

She looked behind the bookshelves she could reach, nothing. Perhaps behind one of the books, but there had to be at least three thousand books in this room. Some old, some new, arranged by a plan that only Bill understood. Which book would he have hidden it behind? Jennifer started scanning titles looking for Chastise or some other word that leaped out at her as significant. Jennifer followed the books from the left side of the door, and after covering half the left wall, gave up. It was getting too far from the door.

Going back to the door, she started on the right side of the room scanning titles again looking for something to leap out at her, and finding nothing. Looking at her watch, and noticing it was almost eleven, Jennifer sighed and decided to finish her days work, and go home. It was the one fringe benefit of his secret weekends; she was free to leave when she was done answering mail.

Jennifer sat with her lunch, a small chef's salad, and finished printing the responses, and customizing the pictures, putting them in envelopes to be mailed out Monday. She put her computer to sleep, and standing headed for the front door slinging her purse over her left shoulder. Just as she passed the library, she stepped inside, wondering what she had missed, what had she just not seen.

Jennifer walked around the Library one last time, she looked around the room, waiting for something to wave at her and scream, "It's me, or I'm the next clue." Nothing did, and Jennifer rolled her eyes in exasperation and started to leave.

Stopping after the first step, she turned slightly to her left looking at a shelf. One book did not fit the shelf. The other books were brown, this one was blue. It was right by the door, and the blue book was taller than the brown ones. Squatting down Jennifer looked at the title, "Justine and other stories by the Marquis de Sade" was one the spine.

Jennifer pulled the book partially out and looked behind it, no key. Damn, well it was worth a shot. Standing and headed for the door again Jennifer resolved to put it out of her mind. Jennifer remembered reading that book in College. Her copy hadn't been a collection, but the story itself in a single novella form. Jennifer stopped in mid stride just short of the front door. Her book had been titled "Justine, or Good Conduct well Chastised."

CHASTISED. "Shit" Jennifer said turning and dropping her purse. Rushing back, she pulled the book from the shelf and opened the cover. Inside was a table of contents, and Jennifer felt the rush of satisfaction on that victory. Chastise, yes it was chastised. Jennifer started to flip through the book, but it didn't open right. The book was hollowed out, and inside the hollowed out area, a ring with two keys.

Jennifer's eyes gleamed with triumph as she took the keys, laying the book aside on a table and walked across the hall. She smiled knowing that this was the key to the door, and the door the key to the mystery she had been living. Jennifer unlocked the deadbolt, and then the handle lock turned easily with the key. Opening the door, she did not notice the magnetic sensor built into the doorframe, which registered the movement of the magnet in the edge of the door. The computer did the rest six seconds later, sending a text message to the address in its memory. As Jennifer reached the bottom of the stairs to the darkened basement, Bill's cell phone had begun to vibrate the notification of a received message.

Jennifer found the switch at the bottom of the stairs, and turning the lights on, stood stunned and looked at the basement, no it was a torture chamber. There were cages, a leather topped table, chains, whips, bookshelves, and an incredible assortment of sex items. No wonder he hid the key in a book by the Marquis de Sade. This could be a shrine to the sadist philosophy.

Jennifer stepped around, looking at everything, feeling numb from the shock. She saw chairs that had bindings built in, more bindings, both leather and steel hung from the walls. Erotic art hung almost everywhere, and each one had a similar motif, a woman bound, granted they were artfully done, each picture displayed different bondage positions and style. Jennifer felt a small thrill rush through her as she remembered when she had enjoyed such things. Her hand rested on a table as she looked at a picture of a woman spread eagle on a large wooden X, stretched taught by bindings on her wrists and ankles, another strap around her waist.

She turned and found her hand resting on a leather binding attached to a chain at the corner of the leather covered table. Her fingers danced across the chain, and for a moment she wondered what it would feel like to be stretched across this table, and have Bill on top of her prostrated and helpless form. Her stomach tightened and her nipples stiffened slightly at this mental image.

Jennifer angrily shook this out of her mind. She didn't do that anymore, and she told herself she wasn't going to be sucked back into it now. She had that demon purged from her long ago, when Jeremy had cheated on her and then abused her. Never again would she be helpless.

*****

Bill had been driving on I-16, out of Savannah; after a morning meeting with his broker, and then had reluctantly accepted the inevitable lunch invitation. He was headed west, and was ten minutes past the main Statesboro exit when his cell phone buzzed at him. He growled "This had better be an emergency, It's my weekend away damn it." He reached for his cell phone and a couple button pushes later, was reading the message at sixty-five miles per hour. He read it twice to make sure he was not mistaken. "I think this qualifies."

"Secure Door Breach" was the entire message. Three words that told him everything. Jennifer was in the basement, and he needed to be there soon to talk to her. He needed to talk to her before she ran screaming from the house.

He accelerated to seventy-five, and made an illegal U-turn across the median, and accelerated back towards Statesboro. He got off on the right exit. He pushed past the speed limits on all the roads towards home, ignoring a yellow light that turned red as he reached the intersection. Fortunately during the entire drive, his radar detector had remained silent, and no police observed his somewhat reckless driving.

Jennifer was looking at the books on the shelves. Bill had a similar display in the office. His five published mysteries were lined up; in order of publication, on a shelf with book ends the only other decoration. There were six books here, all by "Sierra" and they were laid out the same. Could he have written these too?

Jennifer picked up the one on the far right, the newest one upstairs. Opening the book, Jennifer found that it had been published two months ago. "A Family Tradition of Bondage" was the title, and Jennifer couldn't believe it. Was it possible that Bill had been writing two different types of books, normal mysteries, and this porn.

The next book to the left was "Collected Short Stories by Sierra" and Jennifer looked at it. It had been printed ten months ago and Jennifer had another piece of the puzzle figured out. Bill was writing this porn using the pen name of Sierra.

Jennifer suddenly felt him behind her, she could always tell when he walked into the room, his presence just called to her. Jennifer had always considered this evidence of a serious attraction between then, but now it wasn't as welcome as usual.

Turning she saw him standing there by the steps. She was struck once again how good he looked. Blond hair hanging down to his shoulders, a tan sports coat over blue jeans and a sport shirt. The blue/gray eyes that shone with intelligence. The cute little cleft in his chin. Jennifer loved the way he looked, even the slight bulge halfway down his nose, showing where it had been broken playing water polo in college.

"I figured the clues out." Jennifer said by way of introduction.

"Yes you did, and now you know the secret of the basement. So Ms. Sherlock Holmes, what do we do now?" Bill asked.

Jennifer felt panic swell and a sudden rush of arousal and embarrassment. Swallowing hard she said "Uh, what do you mean?"

"I meant, we should either talk about it, or you can run from the house screaming to the neighbors that Bill's a pervert." Bill said.

Jennifer almost smiled, but this was too serious for that kind of levity, trying to change the subject she asked "Did you write these books too?"

"Yes, tell you what, bring them, I'll be in the office, and we can talk since you are apparently not going to run screaming from the house." Bill said, and turning walked up the stairs.

Jennifer hesitated, and then grabbed the remaining books on the shelf, followed him upstairs. When she entered the office, Bill was at his computer typing rapidly. He stopped considered the screen, and then typed for another minute, and then tapped the keyboard one last time.

The printer started its cycle and Bill rose and taking the printed sheet applied a pen to the bottom of the page, and handed it to Jennifer. "I think this should do nicely."

Jennifer looked at the paper, and then read it more slowly. It was a recommendation letter. It said her work was excellent, and rated her extremely competent in all areas of office management skills. It severely regretted her loss and alluded to the difficulty of finding a similarly qualified assistant. Jennifer dreaded the impact of the letter. "So I'm fired?"

"No, I assumed you would be thinking of quitting, and I wanted you and any future employer to know how highly I thought of you." Bill answered.

Jennifer read the letter again. It was an excellent letter, and she had no doubt that if called on it Bill would back it up.

"I don't know, it's been a shock so far." Jennifer said.

"Yeah, I can understand that. The story is fairly simple, I have been into Bondage since College, when I was introduced to it. Obviously it wouldn't do my public reputation any good to have that information out there, so I keep it very private. The mysteries I write are good, and I enjoy creating the story, but I love writing the erotica. I love living the scenes out with others who share my tastes." Bill said.

Jennifer looked at the books on her desk, the ones she had brought up from downstairs. All of them had Bondage titles. The short stories book had a picture of handcuff's on the cover.

"Jennifer, I know you have tried to flirt with me, and made several passes at me since you started. I returned the flirting, but took no action because I need more than a girlfriend in my life, I need a submissive mate. A Vanilla relationship is not satisfying to me anymore. After a few dates, I don't bother to call them, because I am not happy with them, it, whatever." Bill said.

"So you played along with my flirting but didn't follow it up because you didn't want to have a normal date with me?" Jennifer asked.

"Oh I wanted to date you, I wanted to wine you, dine you, and then bind you." Bill said.

Jennifer shuddered slightly, partly from fear, partly from a rush of desire that flooded her.

She swallowed again to open up her throat that was suddenly tight and said "I grew out of that, in high school, I don't do that any more." Jennifer remembered that rainy afternoon when the power had gone off. They had sat staring at the rain for an hour, and suddenly he started talking about an ex girlfriend. One who wanted to get more serious with him, he had said no, and a week later, while he was having second thoughts, she drown in a swimming accident. It was fairly rare that he opened up to her about his personal feelings. This story was one of regret, obviously one which had a big impact on his life, his personality.

Jennifer feeling the sudden unexpected opening, and being moved by the story, had told him about Jeremy, and her eighteenth birthday.

For her birthday this year, she had come to work and found a crystal rose wrapped in a gift box on her desk. He had just said "Happy Birthday Jennifer, and may all your birthdays be joyous and rewarding."

"You told me Jen, and I waited until now to tell you, you never grow out of it. You never leave it behind, you just had a very bad experience, and I swear that wouldn't happen with me. However I wanted to make sure your eyes were open to the future, before I wined and dined you. I wanted to let you know before we went out that bondage and submission is a big part of my life." Bill said. "I guess you can call it full disclosure, well now you know everything, and you have to decide what our next move is. Do we go back to what it was, working together, and nothing else? Do we decide that any discussion of Bondage is totally off limits? Do you leave and seek employment elsewhere? Do we try a relationship, do we doom it by trying it vanilla?"

Bill stepped forward toward her, and ran a single gentle hand down her cheek. "I feel the same way you do Jennifer, I love you. I look forward to seeing you every day, and I feel my heart sparkle when I hear your voice. However, I also know I won't be happy unless I can bind you and pleasure you the way I think you still want deep down inside."

Jennifer listened, and felt a single electric jolt run from her cheek and electrify her whole being. She was happy that he said he loved her, and angry that his love came with conditions. "So you can't really love me unless you get to tie me up? Is that it?"

"No, not exactly, you see I want you, but I want more of me that you would give if we just dated. I want your mind, body, soul, and your heart. I want all of you, and offer all of me in return. I want your submission to me, with appropriate safeguards, safe words for example, and I want to be your Dom." Bill said.

"Bill, I don't understand, you want to tie me up, but you want more than that? What more is there?"

"There is so much more you wouldn't believe me if I told you. Some is in those books, while they are fiction, the scenes are real enough, and the emotion is realistic enough. There is another book I would like you to read as well as those. I'll go get it." Bill said.

Bill left the room and Jennifer sat wondering what he was bringing back. If Justine was suitable only for being hollowed out and used as a key safe, what would be worthy to him.

Bill returned in a minute with another book, and handed it to Jennifer. "This is an autobiography of a full time submissive. I think you'll find it interesting, and perhaps enlightening."

Jennifer sat looking at the books and thinking about what he said. "Bill, couldn't we try the dinner date routine? It's worked for generations you know." She put a weak smile on her face, and then grasping at a straw. "You could always take me to a bar and get me drunk, you might get lucky."

"As for the drinks and getting lucky, I want you mind, body, heart, and soul, which means I can't take advantage of you while your drunk. Jennifer, the dating routine has worked to an extent. However people in relationships often withhold information. They keep their feelings, and desires private inside of them."