However, if she could write this profile of him and give the public a glimpse of the man she had seen when she’d been with Ben, it might alleviate some of the damage done by the ongoing FPPC investigation. She wanted to write this piece as badly as she’d wanted to write one on the Scarlet Auction.
As Kimani rode the municipal light rail back home after staying at the office past eight o’flock, she received a text from her roommate, Marissa:
Have to work late. Thinking of going to The Lair. Will let you know.
The Lair was the BDSM club Marissa used to frequent. Kimani was glad to hear that Marissa might head to The Lair since she hadn’t been active there since her experience with the Scarlet Auction.
By the time Kimani got off at her Muni stop, the streets leading to the duplex she and Marissa rented together were fairly dark. An elderly couple, James and Michael, lived in the upstairs unit and were rarely home because they enjoyed traveling. Currently they were on an Alaskan cruise, scarfing down at the all-you-can-eat buffet, their favorite part of cruising.
As Kimani fumbled through her purse for her house keys, she had the odd sensation that she was being watched. She looked behind her but saw only a neighbor across the street walking her dog. Glad that she wasn’t alone, Kimani found her keys and let herself in.
After taking off her shoes and going through the refrigerator to find a snack, she looked through the mail Marissa had left on the table. Amidst the bills and credit card applications was a letter addressed to her with no return address. Kimani opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. It was blank except for six typed words:
I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE, BITCH.
Chapter Two
The naked, petite woman dangled from the ceiling of the dark room. On occasion, a flash of blue from the strobe lights downstairs in the bar area would permeate the room. An experienced submissive, Yuki could spend hours in predicament bondage. The rope wrapped her upper body in asymmetric formation from the top of one shoulder to the bottom of the other, squeezing down on one breast while the other orb was pulled upward.
Benjamin Lee stared at his shibari handiwork on the woman. Though he didn’t favor waifs and women who looked far younger than their age—Yuki was twenty-eight but could easily pass for jailbait—he had specifically chosen Yuki out of the many submissives making eyes at him in the Tokyo BDSM club because she was different from Kimani in almost every way. Yuki had poker-straight hair—currently tied back messily in a ponytail—alabaster skin, and, except for her breasts, had a straight and skinny figure.
“Irete kudasai,” she said with large, imploring eyes.
When Ben did not respond immediately, she tried English instead. “Fuck me.”
Fluent in Japanese, Ben didn’t need the translation. He hadn’t reacted because he had been distracted, thinking about the different ways he had wanted to tie Kimani in suspension bondage. Her legs spread apart. With and without a crotch rope. Upside down. Right-side up. One leg stretched skyward.
Fuck that.
Unzipping his pants, Ben grabbed a condom and went to stand behind Yuki. After sheathing his cock, he pulled her hips toward him and thrust himself into her.
She cried out in Japanese as his cock entered her with ease, for she was dripping wet thanks to their earlier foreplay, which had included nose hooks, a favorite of hers.
He pounded away at her, gripping her hips tightly because she barely weighed a hundred pounds and would have flown across the room. Unlike Kimani, who had more substance, more muscle. He would have liked to test how hard Kimani could take it. The anger still lingered, so he probably wouldn’t have held back if it was she and not Yuki speared upon his cock.
Bloody hell.
It had been weeks since he had left California. Why was he still thinking about her?
He drilled himself into Yuki as if doing so could drive Kimani out of his head.
For a brief moment, as his orgasm rattled his bones and burst through his cock, all thought evaporated. A beautiful and blinding bliss overcame him.
But it never lasted. No matter how many times he sought that destination, he always ended up back where he started.
“You got yourself a cute little joro,” May said, nursing an umetini in one of the booths near the club’s bar, where Ben joined her after seeing Yuki come and releasing her from the ropes.
Across from them on a large screen, a scene with two BBWs played. All about the main floor of the club hung cages in which women, mostly or all naked, writhed and posed.
Of his three sisters, he would only ever attend a sex club with May, the third of the four Lee children, who was currently on an unwanted “break” from her relationship. Their father had never liked the fact that May was gay, and because Ben had had his own issues with the head of the Lee family, he and May had formed a bond growing up.
Of her siblings, May looked the least like her mother and more like their father, with her round face and flatter nose. She wore her hair short with the tips colored purple.
“Yuki’s very open to women,” Ben said as he ordered kuusu on ice from the waitress clad in a short kimono that didn’t fully cover her arse.
May raised her brows. “What happened to ordering water or green tea?”
“It’s not like I never drink,” Ben replied. “And if you plan on reading things into everything I do, this is the last time I let you accompany me to Tokyo.”