Part Three: A Slave's Return
Brad tried to smile as he took a seat next to Ryan and Colin at the large table. Drew was off talking to Dan and Chip, Greg and Wayne had yet to arrive. The previous night was still tagging along in the back of his mind, each bruise throbbing a little more with the wondering of what made his master so taken with him. "Well, someone looks rested." Colin smiled, pulling Brad back into reality for a moment. "Mmm." Brad smiled back, sipping lightly on a bottle of water. "I guess so, I...uh, had a rather eventful night." "I see, meet anyone?" Ryan dropped a smooth wink. "Nah, not like that..." A slight blush rose to Brad's cheeks. "You know, same old story...just some guy I met in a club." "Just a fling, eh?" Colin raised an eyebrow, "I hope he didn't break your heart too bad." "Not necessarily a *fling*." Brad shook his head in protest, "I mean, he bought me a few drinks and a hotel room, and we're seeing each other again tomorrow night." "Oh, a live one." Ryan deadpanned as Brad shot him a death glance. "I mean, it's about time you slept with the same guy more than once. You're starting to get a reputation." "Yeah, no dethroning me as the office man whore." Greg smirked as he entered, apparently having heard most of the conversation. "I see the party's arrived." Brad mocked, rolling his eyes. "You got that right, Pansy." Greg teased, "At least I have a night gig." "Cool it, both of you. Don't make me get the hose." Drew had finally turned away from his conversation with Dan and to the group. "Yes mother." Greg tried to sound caustic, but didn't come off as bitter as intended. "Where's the young blood?" Ryan changed the subject. "Late, as usual." Dan muttered, cupping his hand over the receiver on his cell phone. "I'll be right back." He left the five to their bickering to finish his call. * * * * * Greg sat leaned back in his chair, wincing a little at the tiny groan it gave in return. The meeting had already begun to turn a little ugly. Wayne was late, Brad was being...well...Brad and flirting with Chip, and Ryan, Colin and Drew had taken to discussing a possible future for Eugene on the other show. His head throbbed and he wondered why he didn't just call up and say he couldn't make it. The migraines always seemed to kick in when he didn't sleep well. Greg removed his glasses and set them on the table so he could rub his temples and try to convince his brain he was sleeping by letting his eyes slip closed. Sadly, it didn't work. He couldn't stop thinking about that slave. B. Brittany. The way he'd taken the role so easily and should have been able to keep it up longer. The way he took every blow without flinching, then fled at the slightest intensity of role play. The voice, that quivering voice as he actually *sobbed* and said the safe word. That was the kicker, the voice...it sounded so familiar, but he couldn't place it for the life of him. It was something that by all means belonged with the rest of that business, at the Palace...yet had followed him home like a lost puppy. "Greg? Greg?" Greg groaned and opened his eyes, tuning back in at the sound of his name. Ryan was in front of him, apparently trying to wake him up. "You dozed off, buddy." Ryan smiled, patting Greg's shoulder. "You feeling okay?" Greg rubbed his eyes and tried to shake off the lingering urge to go to sleep. "Yeah, just didn't sleep well last night." "Well, now that we're all here..." Drew tried to show some authority, "Lets get this all worked out, okay?" "Lets." Brad agreed, giving Wayne a dirty look. "It's not our fault we carpooled and got stuck in traffic!" Wayne tried to dismiss the look. "Lets just do this so I can go home." Greg put his glasses back on and took up a pencil. "I'm good for when you need me." * * * * * The only problem with getting everyone together to make a schedule was that it could take hours. Everyone not only had their own lives to work around, but frequently broke out into little bitchy arguments and once in a while actual conversation. It was already going on eight when the pizza and wings arrived, and they'd made enough progress to know they'd be finishing sometime that night. "I can fill in for Wayne." Brad volunteered when Wayne said he couldn't make a Monday that everybody else could. "Yeah, and we could do like we did first season and have Kathy or Karen or one of the women come in." Drew nodded. "I can take fourth chair." Greg offered. "Unless Chip wants it." "Nah, that would put me at two in a row." Chip tapped his pencil on his date book. "Okay, so we've got Greg, Brad, Colin and Ryan on that day." Drew penciled it in. Brad finished off his slice of ham and pineapple and went after another. It felt good to be at least thinking about taping again. The hiatus really sucked because he had entirely too much free time. And there were only so many times he could alphabetize his bookshelves. Of course, the whole situation was still lodged in his brain. He wondered if he'd still be so nervous come Friday. Obviously he'd made an impression on the man, if he'd asked him back personally. Almost as if on command, he ran his fingers over the short note in his shirt pocket. He didn't know why he wanted to keep it, but something in his mind told him it was the thing to do. Trying to pay attention to the remainder of the scheduling, he pushed the thoughts out of his head once more. * * * * * Greg checked his watch again as Dan finalized the schedule, it was almost ten thirty. Once everyone was in agreement, it was a quick trip down to the studio lot. "Want to share a cab?" Greg raised an eyebrow at Ryan as he and Colin gradually parted ways. "Sure." Ryan smiled, giving his lover one last kiss as he slid into his own car. "I just hate to see him leave without me." "He's spending the weekend in Pismo, you need the time off anyway." Greg shouldered his friend. "It's just hard to spend the time alone in that house." Ryan sighed, then chanced the subject slightly, "Looks like you could use a little time off yourself." Greg sighed as his cab pulled to the curb and they both got inside. "I just couldn't sleep last night, you know...lots of stuff on my mind." "What kind of stuff?" Ryan shot a sideways glace at Greg after giving the cabby directions. "Nothing you'd want to hear about." Greg shook his head slightly, "Just the usual." "Something tells me it isn't the usual..." Ryan put his hand on Greg's shoulder, trying to be comforting. "Why don't you tell me what's really bothering you?" "It's stupid." Greg shook his head again, "I'm just getting in too far again." "Shit." Ryan cursed under his breath, "It's that nightclub again, isn't it? I thought you quit that stuff." "I can't just quit, Ryan. It's not like that. I don't want to quit, either." Greg tried to defend his stance, but Ryan just couldn't understand. "I had this encounter last night..." "At Devil's Palace." "Yes, at the Palace." Greg lit a cigarette and cracked a window slightly. "He was a public slave and I brought him down. Well, long story short, I gave a free VIP treatment because I can't get him out of my fucking mind." "You knew this would happen..." Ryan tried not to get upset. "Knew *what* would happen, Ryan? That eventually I'd come across someone familiar?" "You didn't say it was someone you knew..." "I *might* have known him. I don't know." Greg fumbled with his glasses, "I don't know. With the mask, he could have been anyone." "But he was familiar." "Maybe. Yes. I mean, I've dealt with a lot of people over the years, maybe he's someone I've worked with before." "But you think he could be someone from your present, not your past." Ryan smiled slightly, catching look of near shock on Greg's face. "No!" Greg shot back, then calmed himself. "I don't know what I think. Fuck. Ryan, I went down to the lounge that night, hoping to see him unmasked, and when I didn't...I...I really messed up." "Hey, it's okay..." Ryan rubbed at Greg's tense shoulder. "We all do stupid shit..." "Ryan, I got his room number from someone else and went to his room. I wanted his door to be unlocked so I could just go in there and confront him, but it wasn't. So I left a note and made an appointment to see him again." Greg rubbed his eyes under his specs and let his head rest in his palms. "Now tell me that's the work of a *sane* person." Ryan couldn't help but let out a slight laugh, "Shit Greg, you're not sane. None of us are. I can tell you it's the work of someone that knows what they want...and who they want." "Are you telling me that you think I'm interested in him as more than just a slave?" Greg didn't know how to feel at the thought. It had certainly occurred to him, but he had no idea how obvious it was to an outsider. "It's possible." Ryan nodded, "Maybe you saw what you wanted to see beneath the mask...that's why it's so familiar." "Elaborate?" "You feel like you know him because you saw things you want in a person to spend your life with. Maybe you've met your other half without knowing he's just another pretty face." Greg scoffed, "Right. Yeah, I'm *so* in love." He shook his head as the cab pulled up in front of his building. "It's much more likely that I've met him before." With that, he stepped out of the cab, paid the driver and went to face another night. * * * * * Brad tried to sleep, but knew it would be tough. Anticipation ate away at his nerves as he worked on finishing a bag of Oreos while watching early music videos on some channel's up all night request show. He kept telling himself that there was a logical reason for Mr. P's request for him to come back. His inner romantic, however, was convinced that the master had fallen for his slave and wanted to take him out of the cold, cruel world into loving arms. "You've read too many books with Fabio on the cover." He shook away the destructive train of thought and went back to studying the music videos. * * * * * Greg lit another cigarette and tapped his pencil on the spiral notebook in front of him. Strangely inspired by his lack of sleep, he was half way through writing an article for the first magazine he thought to send it to. He knew it wouldn't be that good, but it kept his mind off the meeting that loomed less than twenty-four hours away. When he'd returned from the meeting, he'd checked his messages. Two female regulars of his had requested him for an afternoon session and a male wanted a night session. He accepted all terms and told Shelly to set him up. Fridays were always busy, and it was a good way to pass the time. As the clock struck just after two, he gave up on the article and decided a nice slosh of bourbon and some sleep was in definite order. * * * * * Brad awoke to the shrieking of his telephone and fumbled to pick it up, he'd fallen asleep in front of the television again. "Hello?" "Morning sleepy head." Brad smiled, rubbing his eyes, it was Ryan. He managed to focus on the VCR clock and realized it was almost noon. "What's up?" "Not much." Brad could hear the flow of traffic on the other end, Ryan was apparently on his cell in the car. "Just thought I'd give you a call and see what you're up to today." "Well, I've got a...uh...date. Tonight." Brad replied, slightly hesitant, but remembering his mentioning it the day before. "Oh yeah, well, if you want to...I was thinking maybe you could come on over and we could shoot some pool and drink a few brews or something." Brad smiled, "Sure, let me shower and all that." "Great! I'm on my to the store for some groceries anyway, I can swing by and pick you up in half an hour." "Sounds like a plan." Brad cleaned up his Oreo mess and said his goodbyes, then went to grab a cup of coffee before hitting the showers. * * * * * "Thank you, Mr. P." The satisfied women giggled, giving him a kiss on each cheek as the left. Thankful it was finally over with, Greg pushed off his boots and curled up on the plush red couch in his office. The pair had been a marathon, harnesses and a good working over for more than two hours. He'd managed some nice deep sleep after a couple glasses of strong bourbon, but still couldn't help but think he was losing his mind over this whole slave situation. It was probably the first time in his life he'd ever wished he could have a full name involved...so at least he'd know what to call his current obsession "Mr. P, call on line four." It was his secretary. Greg waved a hand, dismissing her, then managed to make it from the couch back to his desk chair. "Yeah?" He picked up the phone and leaned back with his eyes closed against the light. "Hey Greg, think you could knock off a little early and come shot some pool at my place?" It was Ryan. "Brad's over, but he's gotta leave for some big date at nine." Greg laughed under his breath as he heard Brad's protests in the background. "Sorry Ry, no can do. I've got a little rendezvous myself after I fulfill my duties here." "Ah, you sly dog..." Ryan's voice laughed, then there was a commotion and Brad was on the line. "Hey lover boy!!!" "Shut your hole, Simian." Greg laughed, "At least my date's not inflatable." "Neither is mine!" Brad retorted. "Yeah, save it for the jury." Greg smirked. He'd never really particularly bonded with Brad, but it was fun to trade insults and watch him fume. In more ways than one, he could be very attractive. "So, what's this big secret gig you're on? Don't tell me you're taping for Late Friday again." Brad's voice was beyond mocking. "None of your damn business." Greg shot back. He tried to make as sure as possible only Ryan knew of his 'night job'. He figured that since Ryan was in on it, Colin probably was too, but there just wasn't any sense in letting every damn person he knew in on it. "Oh, feisty..." One of Brad's infectious giggles faded away as Ryan took the phone back. "Either way, I'll see you around. Don't work too hard." "Oh, no work...all play." Greg laughed, hanging up the phone. It was time to get a stiff drink and some early food in him before his seven o'clock appointment. * * * * * "What does he do, anyway?" Brad knocked the cue off a couple colored balls and watched Ryan take his turn. "Oh, nobody knows." Ryan laughed cryptically. "I bet he's like a mad scientist or something." Brad couldn't help but laugh, "I can see him hunched over a collection of beakers." Ryan locked up as he missed his shot and stepped back to chalk his hands. "How long have you known him, anyway?" "Oh, we don't really know each other. I mean, I met him back like ten years ago, but we never really hit it off." Brad shrugged and lined up the trick shot. "You know, we're from two different worlds and all." Ryan saddled up to his friend and clapped him on the back as he made the shot, then shrinking away at Brad's pained cry. "Sorry, I didn't tell you that I'm a little tender." Brad winced, Ryan had hit him squarely on a bruise when he wasn't expecting it. "You okay?" Ryan's voice spoke of genuine concern. "Yeah." Brad nodded, smiling slightly, "Just a couple surface bruises." Ryan's face dropped into a frown as he moved close to Brad and let his hands settle on his shoulders. "Who hit you?" His voice was soft and almost shaky. "It's okay." Brad smiled and made sure Ryan looked in his eyes, "I just fell down." "Sorry," Ryan pulled away slowly, "you just know that I worry. I haven't dated in a while, but shit happens." "I know." Brad smiled and lined up his second shot. "But you don't have to, I mean, I can take care of myself..." He half-laughed, "I'm a big boy now." "Yeah." Ryan shook his head as Brad missed. "Beer?" "Can't say no to that offer." Brad settled back into a soft couch. "So, why don't you tell me a little bit about Mr. Mysterio?" Ryan slid an ice cold bottle into Brad's hand as he returned. "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you." Brad dropped a wink. "You know, honestly I don't know that much about him. We had this *wow* encounter and then like that it was over. When I woke up there was a note waiting for me that said he wanted to see me again today. So, there it is." Ryan shrugged, "I guess romance is out of the question." He let out a small chuckle so Brad knew he was only kidding, "Good looking?" "Of course." Brad clinked his bottle against Ryan's with a smile. "Great body." * * * * * Greg paced as he waited, chain smoking and trying to avoid the small bottle of Jack Daniels in his desk. It was already ten and no sign of his slave. He wondered if maybe he hadn't gotten the note, or (god forbid) had chosen not come. Trying to get the thought of being snubbed out of his mind, he went over some well rehearsed dialogue, repeating to himself over and over again what he wanted to say as he went over his wrist technique for the thousandth time that day. He picked up the phone on the first ring, "Shelly?" "You boy has arrived, Mr. P. I've got F taking him down right now." "Thank you, darling." Greg hung up the phone, suppressing the urge to giggle like a school girl. It was show time. * * * * * Brad put a hand on his reflection in the changing room mirror as he slid the mask over his face. It felt weird to be back so soon and he wondered if the whole world knew what was going on and somehow he'd ended up the only one left in the dark. There had to be a reason he was asked to come back...and somehow he doubted it was an invitation to join Mr., P's 'elite' clientele. As he approached the bar, the woman who must know him by heart after so long gave him a knowing look. "Mr.P's waiting for you. Follow the man over by the portal." Shelly pointed to the heavy red curtains that separated the doors to the real thing from the kiddie pool. Brad nodded and let the other slave lead him. * * * * * "Thank you, F." Greg smiled in genuine appreciation as he laid eyes on his slave. B put his lips to the boots as he had what seemed like ages ago. Greg was about to start his spiel when the slave was gone, but was more than troubled by the bruises he'd obviously inflicted. Silently, he bent as he had the first time and lifted the slave's head with his strap. "Did I hit you too hard last time?" "No, Mr. P." Their eyes locked. "Thin skin, then?" "Yes, Mr. P." Greg took the plunge, "Do you know why I asked you back today?" "No, Mr. P." Greg nodded, wondering who was hiding behind the soft eyes. Slowly, he brought the slave to his feet and led him to the center of the room. "You are a very special case, normally I wouldn't ask so soon...especially since you're considered a novice around here. But there's just something I can't seem to place about you." B looked down at the floor as Mr. P stood close in front of him. "Look at me." He pushed B's chin pack up to meet him at eye level. "Have you ever been to the dungeon?" B resisted the urge to shake his head and responded, "No, sir." Greg flinched as he introduced his strap to the meaty part of the slave's thigh. "No, Mr. P." "That's better. Do you know the rules of the dungeon?" "Yes, Mr.P." "I want you to quote the three rules to me." "No clothes. No disobedience. No Masks." "Very good." Greg placed a soft kiss on the slave's shoulder. "Do you want to go down there." "I don't think I'm ready, Mr. P." "Why aren't you ready?" Greg couldn't see any change of expression, but knew the slave was thinking about the question. * * * * * Brad had no idea where the questions were going, but it was beginning to sound like Mr. P wanted to take him to the dungeon. He knew it was just something he couldn't handle...no matter what. He couldn't put his reason into words, even as he stared into the piercing animal eyes, he couldn't give a completely honest reason. Instead, he said what he thought the master would want to hear, "I've never been in a group situation, Mr. P." "That's not it." The strap landed on his other thigh, he was expecting it and didn't even flinch. Brad bit his lip and swallowed inaudibly. There had to be another answer. * * * * * "The masks." Greg let the strap rest on his slave's leather encased cheek. "Are you afraid to let me see you with out it? Or maybe of seeing me with a face?" The slave seemed to be clutching for any straw of a reply. "No, Mr. P." Greg pulled back and clipped the strap to his leather pants. "What would you do if I pulled off your mask right now?" He knew it was a bad idea to even suggest it, and highly against the rules so early in the game...but he had to know. Fear shone in the slave's eyes, but his voice didn't waver, "I don't know, Mr. P." "For the last two days, I've felt that I somehow know you...from somewhere other than here. Can you explain that." Greg turned his back to the slave and waited for an answer. "No, Mr. P." "If I take off your mask, you do know that would change everything. I want you to join my 'A' list...to see you as often as I can." Greg continued, "And seeing a face may change that. Do you want me to remove your mask?" "Yes." the voice was now shaky and almost childlike. "And yours, Mr. P." It was all laid out, in a moment, it would all be revealed. "B, please turn your back and kneel." He could hear the slave doing as he told, and after a moment, he turned back to see the slave's sloped shoulders and lowered head. He knelt behind the slave and pressed small kisses up the short neck, then with stilled hands, peeled up the mask.