“Me, too.” Carl shuddered to think what Frank would have done with DeeDee’s amazing submissive side. Then again, he had experienced some of it, hadn’t he? Otherwise, why would she have stuck with him all those months?
That was why DeeDee had been looking around that night at the bar, he suddenly realized. She was looking for someone like Stephen to replace Frank, who was a pale imitation of what she needed in a man. And Carl had obliged her.
They ate and drank coffee, and talked about inconsequential things. It was easy to be with her. Carl hated to have it come to an end, but he had a project looming. He looked at his watch. It was nearly ten.
“DeeDee, I’ve got to go. I’m sorry, but I’ve got this project that my client wants by the end of the week and if I don’t get on it, I’ll lose the business.”
She nodded. “That’s okay. I should be getting back home anyway, check on the fish.”
A smile tugged at the edges of his mouth. “You don’t have any fish.”
She giggled. “Well then, I’d better pick some up on the way home.” She rose. Carl stood too and gathered her into his arms before she could slip away. His cock sprang to attention.
“Maybe I have time for a quickie…” he suggested.
She grabbed his shoulders. “A quickie? You think I’ll be satisfied with a mere quickie?”
“Um, probably not. So I guess I’ll just have to wait until later, then…”
She gave him an elaborate sigh. “Oh, all right. A quickie is better than nothing, I suppose.” She let her robe slip off her shoulders.
Carl was really beginning to fall in love with this girl, he decided.
Chapter Twelve
Carl intended to call DeeDee that afternoon, but his client dropped by his small office after five and stayed for nearly two hours, going over the designs, suggesting changes and editing copy. Carl didn’t mind because he genuinely liked the work he had done, but like all clients, he wanted to put his stamp on it.
By the time he got home, it was half-past seven and he was exhausted. Carl checked his voicemail and email and was surprised not to have heard from DeeDee. He called while he heated up a microwave dinner, fully intending to beg off seeing her tonight. He just wanted to eat and go to bed. Even his cock didn’t argue the point.
Oddly enough, she wasn’t home. He got her voice mail and left a brief message, telling her he’d call her in the morning.
After a restful night, Carl woke up at eight-thirty, fully refreshed. He put on a pot of coffee and mentally organized his day. He had several corrections to do for his client, but they weren’t overwhelming. He figured he could probably finish by early afternoon. Then the client would have to approve the final changes before Carl could put the document together for the printer by Friday. Idly, he wondered if DeeDee would like to have a dinner down by the waterfront.
He called her again. Once more, he got her answering machine. He actually began to get a little jealous, ridiculous as that sounded. He imagined that she had gone out last night with another man and was now sleeping next to him—maybe it was Frank! Carl reined in his childish reaction and left a simple, non-judgmental voicemail, then headed off to work, trying not to dwell on it. He told himself she probably had gone to bed early to rest up from all the lovemaking.
Carl concentrated on the project, doing some of the best work he felt he had done in months. Perhaps it was because getting laid helped clear up his mind. With the client’s suggestions, he was better able to anticipate what he expected and Carl felt he had delivered on that promise. By three-thirty, he had gone as far as he could without more input from him, so he emailed the final draft to him, then shut down the computer and headed home.
On the way, he used his cell phone to call DeeDee one more time. Again, he got her voicemail. This was not like her. It was as if she had dropped off the face of the earth. Making a sudden decision, Carl turned the car toward her apartment.
Nervously, he knocked at No. 136, wondering what could have happened to her so suddenly. Dark thoughts invaded. He worried that she might be inside, unconscious on the floor. Or worse. Had Frank shown up suddenly, seeking revenge? The thought sent fingers of fear through him.
He knocked again before using the key she had given him to enter. The apartment looked clean and neat—no signs of a struggle. He moved into her bedroom and found everything in order. Her clothes were hanging in her closet, shoes neatly arranged on the floor. On her bedside, a book she had been reading remained, one page dog-eared to mark her place.
She didn’t appear to have left town suddenly. Carl was beginning to feel foolish. No doubt she had simply stepped out for her own personal reasons and he was acting like a jealous idiot. Now he feared she might come home and catch him spying on her, so he wanted to leave quickly.
Before he did, he stopped in her bathroom. He couldn’t say why, he just felt a need to check to see if her toothbrush was still there. What he saw froze him in place. In one corner of the mirror, written in lipstick, was: “Turk.” The “K” was smeared, as if she had written it in a hurry.
A cold chill went through Carl. Could it be, he asked himself. It seemed impossible, yet he couldn’t otherwise explain her sudden disappearance. Somehow, Master Turk had shown up and had “collected” her, perhaps using her ties to her old master to bind her to him or perhaps simply kidnapping her outright. Could that have happened? Or was his imagination working overtime? Then again, why else would she write that?
Carl went through the apartment again, this time looking for the smallest items a woman would want to take with her on a trip. He imagined himself to be her, standing naked in front of the glowering Master Turk, who is demanding that she pack a few things and go with him. Carl found her toothbrush and her makeup kit were missing, as were the new pair of black pumps with four-inch heels. He couldn’t identify the dress she took, but he could picture that it would be simple—and short. Looking through her desk, he couldn’t find a checkbook, so she probably had that with her as well.
However, Carl did find an old brokerage statement. DeeDee, his sweet little submissive princess, owned $234,000 worth of stocks and bonds—no doubt courtesy of Master Stephen. No wonder she didn’t have to work. And now she was in the clutches of this Master Turk, who was doing god knows what with her.
Carl’s body went cold as he contemplated it. From the little he had heard her talk of him, he worried just what he might be up against. Master Turk didn’t seem the type to be easily defeated, like Frank had been. And especially now, since Carl had no doubt that Turk had taken DeeDee back up to San Francisco, where he’d be secure, comfortable. Getting DeeDee away from him wouldn’t be easy.
Then, on the other hand, Carl doubted he knew about him. He smiled slightly, thinking Turk was in for one hell of a surprise.
Carl called his client and explained that he had a “family emergency” that required him to be out of town for a couple of days. The client was sympathetic, though Carl knew he’d wanted this project to be completed by the end of the week.
He assured him he’d be back no later than Thursday and would work all night if he had to. Carl asked that he make all the final corrections and email them back. “I’ll have it to the printer by Friday afternoon,” he promised.
Little did he know that he wouldn’t be able to keep that promise.
Chapter Thirteen
The drive from Santa Barbara to San Francisco took about six hours, including the slow-downs for traffic in the busy corridor along Highway 101 in the Bay Area. After packing a few items of clothing, Carl had left his house by five and had pulled into downtown San Francisco by 11:15 p.m. He hoped he wasn’t on a wild goose chase.
On the way, he mentally tried to recall everything DeeDee had told him about Turk. Carl knew he ran a club in the city, something to do with bondage and discipline. Apparently, he was heavy into the BDSM scene. Had DeeDee mentioned the name of the club? Carl couldn’t remember. So he had to wing it. He drove into the Tenderloin district, where all the seedy bars could be found and parked in a lot, paying an outrageous fee for them to watch his car for the next two hours.