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  By the time our third round of drinks arrived, we’d determined that I had no imagination of my own, which probably explained why I had chosen technical writing as a career.

  We had also established that I’d never thought about dressing up as a naughty nurse or a strict schoolteacher or a sexy maid. I didn’t fantasize about being blindfolded or tickled with a feather or covered in chocolate sauce. I’d also never wanted to have sex in public or watch porn or pose for nude photos.

  “Wow.” Donna twirled the stem of her martini glass between her fingers. “So what do you fantasize about?”

  An image of a woman tied to a tree in a dark forest flashed through my head. It was brief and sudden, jolting me so I sat ramrod straight in my chair. “Nothing.”

  She tilted her head at an angle and looked at me as if I’d just sprouted a third eyeball in the middle of my forehead. “Come on. You can’t be serious.”

  I couldn’t hold her gaze anymore, so I looked past her right shoulder into the crowd. I used to have fantasies. Filthy ones that involved whips and pain and reddened flesh. But Ben had cured me of those long ago.

  “There’s something wrong with me, isn’t there?” I was feeling more and more miserable with each passing second, and the cocktails weren’t helping. I huffed out a breath. “Listen, I like sex. It’s pleasurable and pleasant and nice.”

  Donna’s laugh startled me. It went on and on. “Nice?” She gasped when she could finally catch her breath and dabbed a tear from the corner of her eye. “Sex is nice? No, no, no. A foot rub is nice. A perfect creme brûlée is nice. The sight of a sleeping kitten is nice. Sex is… It’s toe-curling, incredible, mind-blowing.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Mind-blowing?”

  She nodded. “If you’re doing it right.”

  Clearly I’d been doing it wrong for a very long time. Was that my fault or Cole’s? I still had so many questions, and I was no closer to figuring out how to surprise my husband for our anniversary.

  I stared down into my empty glass. “There aren’t enough drinks in the world for this.”

  Chapter Two

  After the conference workshops ended late Thursday afternoon, I canceled my standing drink date with Donna by faking a migraine and telling her I’d be heading straight to my room, closing the shades and going to sleep. She’d looked concerned but not suspicious. So when I hugged her goodnight, guilt gnawed at my insides.

  If I’d told her where I was going, she’d have wanted to come along to offer advice and support. But this was something I needed to do on my own.

  My first stop was Rosie’s Intimates, three blocks down from the hotel. I walked there, the August heat plastering the blouse beneath my suit jacket to my back. I should have changed out of my conference clothes, but I feared I’d lose my nerve if I went up to my room first. Most likely I’d have ended up staying in, just like I’d told Donna, except instead of sleeping I’d be fretting.

  No, better to get this over with, business suit or not.

  The store was blissfully air-conditioned. A chime rang out when I pushed the door open and the two saleswomen behind the cash register looked up when I entered. They gave me identical smiles, polite and welcoming, but fake.

  There were a few other customers in the store, but they all seemed to know what they were doing. A couple of women dug through the panty bins, while another pulled lacy bras off a display rack. I was the only one who stood by the door like a deer caught in headlights.

  One of the saleswomen, a pretty brunette with full lips and an eyebrow ring, approached me. “Can I help you find something?”

  “I’m—” I cleared my throat. “Just looking.”

  “All right, well, feel free.” She indicated the store with a wave of her French-manicured hand. “We’re having a twenty-percent-off sale on leather bustiers today, and the silk stockings are buy one get one free if you also pick up a garter belt.”

  To my relief, she turned around and left me to my own devices as soon as she finished delivering her sales spiel.

  I took a deep breath and plunged in. As I glanced through row after row of teddies, baby-doll dresses and see-through chemises, I tried to convince myself that this was no different than shopping for new panties at Walmart. Except none of those panties had ever been missing their crotches.

  Heat flared up my cheeks as I examined a satin, barely there g-string. It looked uncomfortable, but then, my comfort wasn’t the point here, was it?

  I sighed and picked up a lace teddy. The floral pattern was pretty, as was the soft-pink color, and I almost ran to the cash register with it before a bright-yellow 20-percent-off sign caught my eye. Beneath it was an entire wall of leather garb. Bras, bustiers, teddies and even nighties hung in myriad colors, from the black I’d expected to a neon purple I hadn’t.

  Before I could consider what I was doing, I’d placed the lace teddy back on the rack and drifted over to the leather display. I ran my fingers over the supple material and my breathing quickened. I’d gravitated to the standard black apparel; none of the other colors appealed to me in the least.

  A glimpse of metal studs made me crouch so I could get a closer look at the item on the bottom shelf.

  “Oh, good choice.”

  I hadn’t heard the saleswoman approach, and I started at the sound of her voice. Embarrassed, I drew my hand back and rose to my full height, but she grabbed the item in question and held it before me.

  “You have good taste. This is fetish wear at its finest.” She ran her fingertips over one of the studded straps. “The garters are attached, as is the strappy neck collar. The open bust isn’t for everyone but I think you could pull it off.” Her grin was playful, and more genuine than when I’d entered. Maybe she thought I wasn’t quite the straitlaced businesswoman I appeared to be.

  Little did she know that was exactly who I was.

  “I don’t think—”

  “It comes with the matching g-string,” she said, cutting off my protest. “Would you like to try it on?”

  Heat traveled from my stomach down to my pussy, and I fought the urge to squirm. The outfit looked incredibly uncomfortable, but there was something about its dark allure that took my breath away.

  “N-no.” I barely heard my own whisper. “I’ll just take it.”

  She frowned, drawing my attention to the ring through her brow. I had the sudden urge to ask her if it had hurt, and for some reason that thought made my pussy clench.

  Dear God, what’s happening to me?

  “Well, because of the open bust it doesn’t have to be an exact fit, but I still recommend trying it on.” The look on my face must have conveyed my refusal even better than my words had, because she sighed. “You’re a medium?”

  I nodded.

  “Then the g-string should fit well enough and the collar is adjustable. If you’re absolutely sure you don’t want to try it, I’ll just ring it up for you.”

  Less than ten minutes later, I was standing on the sidewalk staring at the dainty bag in my hands. The Rosie’s Intimates logo was large and mortifyingly readable across the front of the bag, and I couldn’t figure out how to carry my purchase so other people couldn’t see it. In the end, I settled on yanking the bustier out and stuffing it in my purse, then tossing the bag in the trash. I had a few more places to go, and I wasn’t about to stroll through San Francisco with my embarrassing purchase on display.

  My next stop was a bookstore. The website I’d checked out that morning said Ooh La Livrewas the largest erotic bookstore in the country. I was glad to see the place was busy at this time of the evening, and I was able to blend in with the crowd and not attract attention from the salespeople until I was ready to go up to the counter with my purchases.

  I’d settled on an oral sex how-to guide, and a reprint of a classic erotic novel from the 1800s.

  My third destination required me to take the Bay Area Rapid Transit—BART, as the locals called it—downtown. I didn’t know San Francisco well, but I’d found
the city extremely easy to navigate on previous trips. BART was convenient, affordable and fast. I was downtown in less than fifteen minutes and ended up standing in front of Toys for Usjust a few minutes after seven.

  I yanked on the door handle, but it didn’t budge. I frowned and looked up, only then noticing the inside was dark. A small sign off to the left told me the store had closed at six.

  I sucked in a breath as a wave of relief flooded my veins. At least I could tell myself I’d tried. It wasn’t my fault the place was closed by the time I got here. And sure, there were probably other sex stores in the area, but I was tired and I had done enough for one day. Heck, I’d practically tossed myself off the ledge of my comfort zone, and I hadn’t quite landed yet. I looked forward to heading back to the hotel, forgetting all about the leather bustier burning a hole in my purse and maybe reading a page or two out of the erotic novel, just out of sheer curiosity.

  I hummed to myself as I walked back to the BART station. All in all, it hadn’t been a bad evening. Shopping for naughty things had proven easier than I’d anticipated, and if pressed I might have admitted I’d even enjoyed myself a teeny bit. Still, I was glad it was over.

  Lost in thought, I didn’t notice the couple stumbling out of a door a few feet from me. They held each other around the waist and when they turned, I collided with the side of the guy’s body.

  “Ooof!” I stumbled back, the air knocked from my lungs.

  “Oh shit. I’m so sorry.” The man—more like a kid, really—ran a hand through his mop of curly hair and watched me cautiously. “You okay, ma’am?”

  I cringed at being called ma’am. It had started a couple of years ago, and I still thought I was much too young for that form of address.

  “I’m fine.” I prodded my ribs where his elbow had connected with my flesh, but other than a dull throb, I didn’t feel a thing.

  “Sorry,” his companion put in. “We weren’t watching where we were going.” She was just as young, with chubby red cheeks and long blonde hair. The ring through her lower lip looked at odds with her cherubic appearance. The redness around the piercing made me think it was a new addition to her lovely face.

  “No problem.” I waved away their concern. “It happens.”

  They both nodded and wrapped their arms around each other once more. With brief smiles in my direction, they turned and walked the way they’d been headed.

  I watched them leave then glanced at the door they’d walked out of. A large fluorescent sign read True Tattoo. Through the clear glass window I could read a list of services. Tattoos of all shapes and sizes, permanent makeup and piercings. I drew in a shaky breath. The memory of the salesgirl’s eyebrow piercing at Rosie’s Intimates returned in a rush. I hadn’t wanted to stare, but I’d been fascinated by the promise of that brief flash of pain, and the permanent reminder of that moment.

  I thought we could surprise each other with the sexiest, most daring thing we can think of.

  Cole’s voice rang in my head and was nearly drowned out by the rampant beating of my heart as I pushed open the door to the tattoo parlor. The place smelled of incense and disinfectant. Artwork covered raw brick walls, showing photographic close-ups of intricate tattoos. Golden light spilled from a chandelier hanging over the reception desk. A magazine rack stood between a cluster of leather seats that took up a corner of the room.

  Yesterday, I’d had no idea if I could come up with something wild and daring. Now I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that there was one thing I was willing to do.

  One thing I wanted to do.

  Not like shopping for lingerie, which had felt forced and expected. Or browsing erotic novels containing someone else’s sexual fantasies.

  I had a new fantasy. One I could shamelessly claim as my own. It had been forming steadily ever since I’d left the lingerie store with my breast-baring bounty.

  “Hi there.” A cheerful woman greeted me from behind the reception desk. Her long hair was piled on top of her head, the red color so striking it had to have come out of a bottle. She sported a nose piercing, two eyebrow piercings, and I counted six rings in each of her ears. Her arms were bare but covered with sleeves of tattoos. “Welcome to True Tattoo. Do you have an appointment?”

  “No.” I was surprised to hear my voice come out so clear. I’d been stuttering at the lingerie store. At the erotic bookstore, I’d hid among the shelves, ill at ease and self-conscious. I wasn’t any of those things here.

  “We usually only take walk-ins on Saturdays, but let’s see if there’s something we can do for you.” She winked at me, and I liked her even more. “What are you looking to get done?”

  “A nipple piercing,” I blurted, then shook my head. “No, wait.”

  She smiled, patience etched on her heavily made-up features. “Take your time. If you’re not ready for a nipple piercing, perhaps we can start with something a little less intimidating. A second piercing in your ear, perhaps? Or a tiny nose ring?”

  I shook my head. “No, I want the nipple piercing. It’s just…” I licked my suddenly dry lips, gathered up my courage and said, “I want two.”

  “Both nipples.” The woman nodded and made a note on a pad of paper. “I think we can do that for you. Jesse’s our piercing artist, and you’re in luck. He had a cancellation earlier this evening. He’s having dinner, but he’ll back in about ten minutes or so. In the meantime, why don’t you fill out these forms?” She slid a clipboard over the reception counter. “They’re standard. Medical history and consent form.”

  I took them from her with a murmured thanks and made my way to the leather chairs. There, I filled out the forms, carefully answering each question. No, I hadn’t been diagnosed with anemia. I wasn’t aware of having any allergies. Nor was I under the influence of drugs and alcohol. And yes, I was here of my own free will.

  By the time I finished, Jesse was ready for me. The redhead quickly scanned the forms and made a copy of my ID. I chose to pay upfront, so once she finished with my credit card she led me down a narrow hallway and into a space that made me think of the examination room at my doctor’s office. It was just as small, and had the same blue table covered in crinkly paper.

  “Hi there.” Jesse’s skin was the color of dark chocolate, and his teeth flashed brightly in his handsome face when he smiled. “Nervous?”

  I stood in the doorway and eyed the examination table, the jars of piercing supplies lining the shelves, the clamps and needles in their sterilizing pouches. “No,” I answered honestly. “Should I be?”

  “Definitely not. The hard part will be over before you know it.” Jesse pulled on a pair of latex gloves. “Come stand over here. Most women choose to take off everything from the waist up, but if you’d be more comfortable unbuttoning your blouse and leaving your jacket on, that’s fine too.”

  I’d put on a stiff support bra that morning. Unbuttoning my shirt wouldn’t give him access to the areas he needed. I sank my teeth into my lower lip, dismayed to notice my fingers trembling. For the first time since walking through the door of True Tattoo, anxiety skittered up my spine.

  “I’m sorry.” An edgy giggle slipped past my throat. “I’m not…” I blew out a breath. He didn’t need to know that other than my husband, only one other man had ever seen my breasts. “Never mind.”

  I shrugged out of my suit jacket and laid it at the foot of the table, then unbuttoned my blouse and tossed it aside too. The bra was the last to go. I finally glanced up at Jesse, who, to my surprise, hadn’t been enjoying the impromptu strip show. Instead, he’d been focusing on his instruments.

  I stood there half-naked for what felt like forever, until he finally turned back to me. My nipples were hard in the conditioned air of the room, and I clasped my fingers behind my back to keep from fidgeting.

  Jesse held a strip of gauze in his hands. When he touched it to my breast, my body responded with a flash of heat that burrowed deep between my legs. I gulped a mouthful of air and fought to keep from making a so
und as he cleaned me.

  “Antibacterial soap,” he explained as his fingers expertly slipped the gauze over my areolas, concentrating on the puckered nubs of my nipples. “Wouldn’t want you to get an infection.”

  I grunted my agreement but didn’t trust myself to speak.

  By the time he finished, every nerve ending in my breasts had sparked to life. Arousal rushed through me like a tidal wave. I clenched my stomach and tightened the rest of my muscles, hoping the slight quiver in my limbs didn’t give me away.

  “Relax,” Jesse soothed. “I’m going to mark where the piercings will go.”

  I nodded, far from relaxed. I was keenly aware of being alone in a room with this man, a man who wasn’t my husband. I watched his dark fingers move against my pale skin, the breathtaking contrast sending another shiver to course through my body.

  A moment of panic hit me abruptly. What was I doing here? Surely this wasn’t what Cole had meant when he’d suggested doing something wild and daring. For all I knew, Cole’s idea of “daring” was making love in the kitchen instead of the bedroom.

  “How does that look?”

  I blinked at Jesse, my anxiety making it hard to focus. “What?”

  “The markings. These are the exact spots where your piercings will go.”

  “Oh.” I glanced down at the tiny indicators he’d drawn with a black marker. They were right in the center of my distended nipples, and looked fine to me. “That’s great.”

  “Good. Please lie down.” He gestured to the examination table.

  I hesitated. The chill in the air seeped through my bare skin, making me quiver from the inside. I ran my palms up and down my arms, feeling my anxiety meld into the arousal streaming through my system.

  I didn’t wait for him to ask again. With a sigh, I lay back and closed my eyes. I wanted this, but that didn’t mean I had to stare at the needle as he buried it in my flesh.

  “You’re going to feel a slight pinch,” Jesse said. “It’s just the forceps. They help with positioning.”

  I nodded and pressed my lips tightly together, bracing for the pain.