The Lover's Children

Chapter 100 – Summer’s Inferno – Part 10

KLEMPNER

I cut her short. Cut her growing panic short. “Would it bother you if I come to the club? I’d appear to be

a normal punter. There to watch you and the rest of the show. But I’ll be looking for him. If he turns up,

you can point him out.”

“Yeah… Yes, sure.” Her speech accelerates to a gallop. “Whatever you say.”

“Is it likely to be busy tonight?”

She recovers herself. Takes a breath, then a drink. “Could be. If the weather stays like this. If you want,

I’ll save you a table.”

“A quiet table. Somewhere I can watch without having eyes on me all the time.”

“I’ll reserve one in the back corner. You’ll be able to see across the floor from there. The stage. The bar.

All of it. Is that okay?”

“Perfect.”

“Come to the main doors at ten. Tell them Danielle invited you. I'll look out for you. I might be on the

stage, but even if I can’t join you, if I see him, I’ll point him out to you.”

*****

Do I do this alone?

Or bring company?

*****

MICHAEL

The hottest part of the day: even high up our mountain, under summer’s blast, the long meadowed

slopes down to the lake are scorching to a brown patchwork that will need the cooling rains of Autumn

to heal.

It’s way too hot for physical work. Catching some shade on the terrace, a bottle of beer apiece,

companionable silence with James is a restful way to pass an hour or so.

Until something catches my eye.

I watch for a few moments, take a swig of beer, and roll it around my mouth. As I swallow, “You know

when you see women with their heads together and your blood runs cold?”

“Mmmm?” James replies casually, then jolts to attention. “What?”

I nod across the garden: Beth and Mitch seated at opposite sides of the picnic bench. Heads close

enough almost touching, they talk animatedly in turn, each nodding at the other’s comments.

James watches for several seconds. “Whatever’s hatching there, it's not chickens.”

“Think we should interrupt?”

“Interrupt what?” Richard strolls out, casually dressed in the black jeans and linen shirt Beth

encourages him to wear when he's not dressed for the office.

“That...” James aims his bottle neck at the brewing conspiracy.

Richard gives it a long look too. “Something about that conversation makes me itchy.”

“Couldn't agree more.”

By unspoken consent, we stroll across. Two heads pop up, adopting matching, and completely fake,

expressions of innocence.

“You looked engrossed there, the pair of you,” comments Richard. “Mind if we join you?”

Beth shuffles up the seat, making space for me. Richard and James flank Mitch.

James speaks casually. “So, what were you talking about?

“Babies,” says Beth.

“Books,” says Mitch.

Two pairs of emerald eyes slide sidelong, meet, then diverge.

“Books about babies,” says Beth.

*****

JAMES

In my study, comfortable in my favourite armchair, low music playing, I ponder the issue of my

depressed mermaid.

But I don’t have an answer. The root of the problem is that Charlotte wants another child, and on this

occasion, that’s in Michael’s hands.

What can I do to help?

Not much…

Might as well get on with some work…

It’s beastly hot, making it hard to think straight. Opening the window doesn’t help; the air coming in is

hotter than what’s already inside. A glass of iced water does.

Switching on my desk fan, I set it to high, positioning it to blow across my armchair then, clipboard in

hand, settle to sketch out a few ideas…

But the ideas won’t come. Normally, when I work like this, freeing my mind, my hands do my thinking

for me. But this time, worry gnaws, and inspiration escapes me.

Giving it up as a bad job, I set down my pad, staring into space.

Maybe a swim would help?

A quiet knock on my door.

“It’s open.”

It’s Beth. Stepping quietly in, she checks outside, then clicks the door closed behind herself.

On the scale of how we sometimes see each other, she’s by no means provocatively dressed. But

neither is she wearing everyday clothing. Barefoot, her hair loose, the light wrap she wears, a

translucent silk, belted at her waist, does nothing to hide her nakedness beneath.

Almost before I have chance to register her dress, to my utter astonishment, face lowered, she kneels.

“Beth? What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m a sub, kneeling before a Dom.”

“I’m not your Dom, as you well know.” I splutter the words. “I'm neither your Master nor your husband.

It’s deeply inappropriate.”

“I have a request to make of you, Sir. A favour.” NôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

A favour? A favour that requires Beth, submissive to another Dominant, to kneel for me?

*Alarm bells ringing*

“What kind of favour, Beth? I belong to Charlotte. You know that. And if Richard were to walk in now...”

She lifts her face, now meeting my gaze, her lips curving beautifully. “It’s not a favour that will in any

way endanger your relationship with either Charlotte or Richard.”

I’m profoundly uncomfortable with the situation. But Beth, deeply submissive by nature, could be easily

bruised. Trying to keep the growl from my voice, “I’ll repeat my question. What favour?”

“A favour that means I should speak to you, as Charlotte’s Master, before I speak to anyone else about

it.”

“Beth, you’ve lost me.” I scrape through my hair, then flap the hand upwards at her. “Now, please, if you

have something to ask me, then sit, and tell me what it is you want.”

Her smile puckers into dimples and she offers up her hand. Helping her to her feet, I gesture her to the

other armchair. “So, give. What’s on your mind?”

She relaxes back into the chair, tugging the wrap tightly around herself, all trace of submission gone.

“James, let me preface the conversation with this. Some time ago, with my birthday coming up, Richard

asked Charlotte’s permission before he ‘gave’ me Michael as a birthday gift. He spoke to Michael

himself next. I gathered afterwards that you weren’t too pleased about it. As you saw it, being cut out of

the loop.”

Where the hell’s this going?

“True enough. So?”

“So… I’m speaking to you before anyone else. If you’re not happy, it’s the end of the discussion.”

“You have my attention...” I wait, but she stalls, starts to speak, then blinking rapidly, looks abruptly

away... “Would you like a drink, Beth?”

Her mouth works and she nods. I pour a finger of brandy, then another finger. She sips, then, glass

cupped in her palms, sits upright again.

“Since Charlotte’s miscarriage… I know she and Michael keep saying it didn’t really matter, and it was

just one of those things, and they’re trying again… but…” She chews at her bottom lip… “…but, don’t

you think they’ve changed a bit? I mean, Michael’s always been an, ‘anywhere, anytime’ kind of man,

but it’s as though… as though when he and Charlotte are… I mean when they…”

Scarlet-faced, Beth stumbles over her words… “All the fun’s gone out of it for them. Charlotte’s

constantly checking her calendar and her temperature. And when she calls Michael, it’s like it’s a

deadly mission for them to have sex. It's all so serious for them.” Petering out, she raises frustrated

hands. “Am I making sense?”

“You're making a great deal of sense, Beth. So, what did you have in mind?”

She brightens. “If it were just play time for them again, it would be different. What do you think?”

“I think you may well be right. So…?”

She stalls again, winding a long lock of hair around her fingers, tighter and tighter…

Picked up that habit from Charlotte?

“Beth, whatever it is, spit it out. I promise I won’t bite.” She flinches.

Did I snap the words?

Deliberately injecting the smile into my words, I continue… “I promise. Now tell me what you’re

thinking.”

She chews at her top lip. “When it was my birthday, Richard ‘gave’ me Michael. It's Richard's birthday

next week. I want to ‘give’ him Charlotte.”

?

“Beth, I’m not following you. Richard and Charlotte have played together many times.”

“Yes, but it was always about you being Charlotte’s Dom, sharing her with Richard. And he shared me

with Michael. This would be a bit different.”

“Go on.”

*****

KLEMPNER

I keep my voice low. “Michael, I wonder if you could spare a few hours.”

My son-in-law looks a little startled. “Sure thing. What's happening?”

“I want you to... And please take this the right way... I want you to accompany me this evening.”

“Oh? Where to?”

“It’s called the Sapphire Club.”

It was worth asking him just for his expression. “The Sapphire? That’s a strip joint.”

“I believe the performers call themselves dancers.”

He pulls a face. “Yeah, exotic dancers.”

“Your call,” I shrug. “Will you come?”

He glances over his shoulder to where Jenny sits playing with Cara. “What is it you want me to do?

Exactly?”

“Mingle. Exert your charm. Talk to the staff working there, particularly the women.”

Michael huffs. “You need me for that? You always seem able to speak for yourself.”

“I believe I mentioned charm?” He quirks a smile. “Besides, I need to be free to leave if necessary. I’ve

received information.”

“You could bring James too. That way it looks like more of a Boys Night Out.”

“I think you might want to leave James with Jenny. Make sure she’s not tempted to get into any

trouble.”

His gaze slides back over his shoulder again. “I take your point.”

*****

JAMES

Klempner’s face remains dead pan, but humour crinkles the corners of his eyes. Charlotte’s expression

matches, but without the humour. “Let me see I’ve got this right…” She plants fists on her hips. “You,

my father, are taking my husband to a strip club?”

Michael looks away, straightens his face, then turns back with an expression of apparent seriousness.

Klempner purses his lips. “Jenny, you wanted to be part of this. That means your… partners…” He

nods toward Michael, then me… “… are also part of this.”

Her expression sours to a scowl. “Okay, I’m part of it. So, I’ll come too.” Michael raises brows,

exchanges a look with Klempner.

I intervene, speaking for them. “To a strip club, Charlotte? I don’t think so.” Her face sets… “A man

doesn’t arrive at one of these places with a woman on his arm. He leaves with her.” Michael faces

crackles with ill-concealed humour. “What’s your problem, Charlotte? You trust your husband, don’t

you?”

Her eyes slit, then she stares at her feet, scuffing the ground. “Course I do.”

“So, what is your problem?”

She scuffs a bit more, then raises her face, throwing Michael a smile to make angels weep. “No

problem.”

*****