The Cabin Ch. 10

That's the double-edged sword of free will, he thought: the freedom to make stupid decisions.

Adrian closed his eyes, recalling her grunts and cries as she'd hurtled down the embankment. Saving Aubrey had put his entire plan at risk, but his hesitancy and carelessness had put her at risk. Bringing her to the caretaker's cabin was an improvisation. He'd had no idea whether or not the man could be trusted, but she wasn't going to last long in her condition. After he'd laid her at the caretaker's door, Adrian waited, observing them through the picture window. He even went so far as to break into the man's truck to get out of the cold for a while. It didn't take long for Adrian to determine that he'd made the right decision, albeit incidentally. The caretaker was kind and respectful and knowledgeable of the sorts of bodily dilemmas one might encounter in a frigid climate. Still, he hadn't expected the surge of jealousy that stirred within him at watching the stranger care for her, especially when her condition was entirely his fault.

The pines shuddered, their boughs rustling against one another amidst the squall. Adrian stood and adjusted his jacket once more before beginning his descent into the brightly lit valley. He had no money and no means of transportation besides his own two feet.

No matter, he thought. He would secure a place to sleep the best way he knew how: by offering his services or, at the very least, his companionship for the night.

His thick boots served him well as he descended the ridge. Once he reached the bottom, he skulked around the outskirts of the resort, formulating a crude map of the property in his mind. There were four hotels, five gourmet restaurants, three gastropubs, four cafés, six popular fast food chains, four lounges, and one nightclub. Being that it was just after 8pm, the majority of the guests were dispersed amongst the various eateries. Adrian casually scoped each of them, taking note of women dining alone, but electing not to linger in any given establishment for too long, lest he draw unwanted attention.

Three hours passed. Adrian noticed a cluster of giggly, college-aged women heading towards the nightclub and attempted to follow, but quickly changed course once he saw a bouncer checking IDs at the door. Eventually, he settled on a dimly lit, sparsely populated lounge located in one of the luxury hotels on the far side of the property.

Adrian tapped the snow from his boots and entered the main lobby. A few employees halted in their tasks as he passed, but did not attempt to question him. He marched into the lounge as though he had every right to be there—the secret to fitting seamlessly into any desired organization or locale. He chose a quiet seat at the end of the bar and ordered a small glass of water, something he could pass off as vodka. The bartender, a tall young man with shaggy blond hair that fell into his eyes, regarded him with particular interest.

Well, Adrian thought, not my first choice, but certainly an option.

Adrian stowed his messenger bag beneath the seat along with his jacket. He'd almost forgotten to remove his gloves and considered leaving them on, thinking that the right person might find them alluring. In the end, he opted to take them off. His goal for the night was to secure lodging. If the woman in question happened to be piqued by his other offerings, then so much the better.

Classical music drifted down from the corner speakers. Adrian smiled to himself, recalling the previous evening's exploits in the Enclave. A melancholic veil floated over him at the realization that he would never again set foot in Isabel's academy. He sighed and sipped his water, thinking of all the other things he would miss, like Sonya and Aubrey—especially Aubrey.

Adrian massaged his temple and lowered his gaze to the polished oak bar. He'd had no choice but to leave her. Yes, she'd passed her final challenge and learned how to ask for what she wanted when prompted, but she was still relying on him to direct her, to tell her what she should want. That wasn't confidence or personal agency, which was ultimately what he desired for her. She submitted to him because of their history, not because she'd weighed all her options and chosen him as the best fit. No, Aubrey needed know what it felt like to stand on her own, to choose her own partners, and make her own decisions. At the same time, it was paramount to Adrian that he permit himself to experience this new world without her, to become more than just a byproduct or a crop-wielding bag of meat and bones. Still, just as Aubrey had described a sense of vacancy within herself after they'd fucked, he, too felt there was an Aubrey-shaped void inside of him.

Better to try and fill it with my own experiences, he thought; as should she.

A light cough to Adrian's right coaxed his attention back to the lounge. A woman with dark, chin-length hair and eyes the color of cold steel had claimed the spot four stools down. He recognized her from one of the upscale restaurants he'd perused earlier that evening, sitting alone with her small tenderloin and a glass of red. Her sleek pantsuit gave the impression that she was there on business, though the intensity in her heavy-lidded gaze led Adrian to wonder if she might be seeking a more pleasurable diversion. She watched him over the rim of her glass which contained an amber-colored liquid—brandy or scotch, perhaps. He flashed a quick grin, making sure to give her face and form equal attention. The woman lowered her drink to the bar, revealing plump coral lips that stood boldly against her fair skin. Adrian had no particular preference when it came to how women chose to adorn themselves, though he'd always appreciated Aubrey's minimalistic style.

Odd that this stranger would remind me of her, he thought. They were practically polar opposites as far as carriage and stature were concerned. She beckoned him with two long, slim fingers, her stare unwavering. Adrian rose languidly from his stool and moved to sit beside her.

"Can't sleep?" Her voice was deeper than he'd expected for someone so slight.

He shook his head. "Too early for sleep."

"It's almost midnight."

"I'm nocturnal."

"Like a vampire." She smirked, sipping her drink.

"Yes. Only I'm very much alive. Now more than ever." He downed the rest of his water, setting the empty glass on the bar.

"Can I buy you another?"

"If it would please you."

"It would." She nodded towards the empty glass. "What're you having?"

"I'm much more interested in what you're having."

She ordered two bourbons. The young bartender took his time pouring the drinks and remained within earshot even after he'd served them. Adrian and his new companion exchanged furtive glances, a dance he knew all too well, thanks to Aubrey's affinity for writing seduction scenes.

"So," said Adrian. "Where are you from, Miss..."

"Zoe. I'm from Philadelphia. And you?"

He saw no point in offering a fake name. "Adrian."

"And where are you from, Adrian?"

"I...grew up all over."

"But your accent is undeniably English."

"Yes, I suppose it is." He laughed.

His ambiguity only seemed to intrigue her more. "Well, Adrian-from-all-over, what brings you out here? You don't strike me as a winter sports enthusiast."

"You are correct." He sipped his bourbon. "I was visiting someone on the mountain. I had to say goodbye to an old friend."

"I'm sorry."

"Me, too." He swirled the tawny-colored liquid in his glass.

"Were you close?"

"Practically inseparable." Adrian watched Zoe stroke her collar bone, reminded of the times Aubrey had kissed or bitten him in that same spot. He ushered those thoughts to the recesses of his mind and focused on the task at hand. "So, what do you do for work?"

"I'm a model."

"Is that so?"

"What, you don't believe me?"

"Honestly, no."

She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You strike me as someone who's used to telling others what to do. I doubt you'd last long in an environment where the only thing expected of you was to stand still and look pretty."

"Is it the suit?"

"The suit, yes. And the unwavering eye contact."

"Hah. Nice recovery." She smirked.

"Come on. You don't need me to tell you you're attractive."

"No, I don't. But a girl never tires of hearing it." She licked her lips.

Adrian wondered if perhaps he should've been more complementary towards Aubrey. There were so many things he'd wanted to say to her before he left, but not nearly enough time to do so. If he could, he'd tell her that he loved to watch her sleep, that he'd gladly spend an entire day with his head between her legs just to listen to her moan, and that he secretly doubted there'd ever come a day when he wouldn't think of her.

Zoe traced the rim of her glass before lifting it to her lips. "So, what do you do for a living?"

Adrian paused, weighing his options. Hell, why not try something unconventional for his first attempt? Like honesty.

"I'm a professional Dominant."

She coughed mid-sip. "What was that?"

"You heard me."

Her cheeks reddened. "So, people pay you to tie them up and, what? Spank them?"

"Some do, yes."

Zoe narrowed her gaze. "I don't think you're lying."

"That's because I'm not."

"Well. How about that." She licked her teeth. "How long have you been a professional Dominant?"

"I've done it on-and-off for almost a decade, though I've held quite a few side jobs over the years. It's only recently become a full-time venture."

"And what prompted this particular career shift?"

He smirked. "I've had what you might call a spiritual awakening. A rebirth, if you will."

"And you were called to the service? Like a missionary?"

"Precisely."

The bartender stood but a few feet away, drying wine glasses and attempting to appear inconspicuous. Adrian caught him staring once, then twice, though he couldn't tell which of them the young man seemed more interested in.

Zoe laid her hand on Adrian's forearm. "So, wait, do you just hit on random people or do they approach you?"

"It depends. Keep in mind, I'm still fine-tuning my business model."

Zoe waved her hand. "Okay, forget the logistics. What exactly do you do to someone who enlists your...your..."

"My services. Depends on what they want. Some people like pain while others prefer something a bit more cerebral. Most of the time, it's about striking a balance between the two."

"Uh huh." She snapped her fingers at the bartender and pointed at her empty glass. "I'm guessing you tie them up."

"Sometimes."

"And then you fuck them?"

"Officially, no."

She wrinkled her nose. "Really?"

"It's complicated." Adrian grasped the bartender's wrist and yanked upward just as the bourbon threatened to spill over the rim of the glass.

"I—I'm so sorry," the bartender stuttered.

"It's fine," Zoe snapped. "Just don't charge me for more than one." She shooed him and then turned back to Adrian. "So, no sex?"

"I won't say it never happens, but to those for whom BDSM isn't just a passing interest, it's about more than sex."

"What's 'more than sex?'" She sipped her drink, careful not to spill.

"It's about the exchange of power, giving or taking control from one another. Take yourself as an example."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Me?"

"Yes. I look at you and I think, 'This is a woman who knows what it feels like to hold the fates of others in her meticulously manicured hands.' I would bet that people or perhaps even entire organizations rise and fall by your recommendations."

Zoe's bit her lip. "You're good at this."

"It's what I do." He finished his bourbon.

"Another?"

"No, thank you."

"Feel free to share mine." She slid her glass across the narrow expanse between them. "So, based on your astute observations, do you think I'd make a good dominatrix?"

"Quite the contrary. I think you'd made an even better submissive."

"But you just said I look like someone who can wield power."

"Yes, and you wouldn't believe how many CEOs and business executives love to have their mouths gagged and asses lashed in between charity benefits and shareholder's meetings."

"I don't know. I've never been a whips and chains kind of girl."

"Forget the aesthetics." Adrian took a swig of their communal bourbon. "Imagine what it would feel like to let someone else—someone you trust—make all the important decisions for you. Those nagging judgments and responsibilities, deadlines, contracts, presentations, all of it, could simply fall away, allowing you to be fully present. A conduit for someone else's whims. Someone whose sole ambition is to make you feel safe, sated, and free."

Zoe's let out a long, quiet breath, her shoulders relaxing just a tad. Adrian dipped a finger into their glass. "The only words that matter are the ones belonging to your Master and the only ones you'll need are 'Yes, sir' and 'No, sir'. Life could be simple, visceral, mindful, even for just a short while. If you want pain, you'll have it. If you want pleasure—" He ran his bourbon-laced finger along her bottom lip. "You'll have that as well."

Zoe snaked her tongue out to catch the droplets. "What if I can't handle it?"

"Then you use your safe word. And I stop."

She shuddered and straightened her spine. "Well, you're quite the kinky crusader. Trying to convert me?"

Adrian laughed. "I consider myself more of a teacher than a–"

"Preacher?" Zoe smirked. "Something tells me the world isn't quite ready for what you have to teach us."

"You're probably right." Adrian stifled a yawn.

"I'm sorry, am I boring you?"

"Not at all. I'm just a bit knackered."

"Rough day at the dungeon?"

"You could say that." Adrian tried not to think about the cold, strenuous hike down the mountain or how excruciating it had been to walk away from Aubrey not once, but twice in one afternoon.

"Well," said Zoe. "I should head up to my room, though I doubt I'll get much sleep."

"Snoring husband?"

"Cold bed." Zoe blinked slowly, eyeing him from beneath long, dark lashes. She called the bartender over and instructed him to put the drinks on her account.

"What room number, Miss?" the young man asked.

"Room twelve twenty-four." She glanced at Adrian as she rose from the stool, positioning her body in such a way so as to optimally present her slim figure.

I'll bet she's practiced that in the mirror more than once, Adrian thought.

"Feel free to remember that number," she said.

"I'll do that."

Zoe swayed her hips as she strutted out of the lounge, not bothering to look over her shoulder because, of course, he was watching. Adrian nursed what was left of their shared bourbon, sliding his palm along the smooth grain of the bar. He wondered if Aubrey was still with the caretaker or if she'd gone back to the cabin to sleep alone. Both options ate at him, but for different reasons. He ran a hand through his hair and made a mental effort to be grateful for his good fortune. He had a bed for the night. Perhaps longer, assuming things went well. What he hadn't expected was the twitchiness developing in his hands.

Makes sense, he thought. This will technically be my first time Topping a woman who isn't Aubrey. He resolved to take things slow with Zoe, for both their sakes. Adrian stood and returned to the stool where his bag and jacket waited. After donning his coat and downing the last of the bourbon, he began making his way towards the door.

"Excuse me, Sir." It was the bartender.

"Yes, what is it?"

"I, uh." He brushed the hair from his eyes. "I couldn't help overhearing—"

"You might to rephrase that."

"Right. Sorry. I was listening and—"

"I don't have all night, lad. What is it that you want?"

The bartender's words trickled out in a long, clumsy stream. "I was wondering if you had any openings."

"For what?"

"A, uh, training session."

"Perhaps." Adrian sized the young man up. "You're looking to submit?"

"Not exactly."

Adrian bit the inside of his cheek. "Do you work here every night?"

"Yeah, every night except Sunday."

"Well then. I know where to find you."

Adrian shouldered his bag and sauntered out into the hotel lobby. A young, redheaded woman behind the front desk chewed her lip and batted her lashes as he passed.

Well, he thought, I'd say business is looking up.



[Author's Note: Keep an eye out for the epilogue which will be posted sometime within the next week. It's shaping up to be an eventful installment in its own right. A lot can happen in a year...]