Michael was laughing at a story that Maria was telling when the phone rang. It was probably Kyle trying to get out of working on the car with him. Max said he would try, but he had things he had to do, and Michael had no idea exactly what that meant.

“Beauty and the Beast, which one ya want?”

“I’ll take the ugly beast.” Michael sat up straighter.

“Simon?”

“Sorry to call you at home when you actually have down time, but I’ve got something you need to see.” Michael made arrangements and told Simon he was on his way.

Looking at Maria on her way upstairs to get dressed his eyebrow went up when he followed her upstairs. “Sorry, Maria. I’ve got to go. It shouldn’t take me that long.”

“I’m coming with you.” Maria grabbed a pair of blue jeans and a top to replace Michael’s shirt she was wearing, not even bothering with underwear.

“No.”

Maria went down the stairs. “Does your knee feel good enough to take the bike?”

Michael caught up with her on the way to the garage. “I said no. And, I don’t have time to argue this out with you.”

“Good, lets get going.”

“Maria.”

“I’m going. I’ll stay out of the way, and if it gets to be too much, I’ll take a walk.” Maria went out into the garage hitting the automatic door opener. “I promise.” Maria looked at him. “I don’t want you to be alone, and maybe I can help. So...GTO or bike?” Maria knew when she saw Michael’s face as he was talking to Simon it was going to be bad. When things got real bad, Michael headed for the dessert at top speed just like she did, and when he hit the road she was going to be with him.

“Bike.” Michael stopped arguing. He didn’t have time. This was a bad idea, but Maria wouldn’t understand until it hit her in the face. His knee was finally better, or at least enough that he could control the machine again.

Simon was waiting for Michael, and he did an actual double take when Maria entered the autopsy room as well. “Um, Michael, I don’t think...”

Michael ignored him as did Maria. They both approached the table. But whereas Michael went forward and examined the body, grabbing latex gloves, Maria turned her back on it. It took a few moments for Michael to catch Simon’s eye and turn back to see Maria looking away.

“You okay, Professor?”

Maria nodded and composed herself. She had seen bodies before, but not opened up like this. A year ago it would’ve sent her into full body shakes, freezing chills, and having Michael dump gallons of sugared tea down her, but she didn’t repress much of anything anymore. Not anger, not sorrow, and she didn’t repress living. What she saw emptied her stomach with that dead drop feeling. Who the hell does that to someone?

“I’m fine. God, Detective, that poor woman, and her family doesn’t know yet?”

“They will, Professor. I promise.” Michael turned back once he realized that Maria was collecting herself, and it wasn’t sickness holding her back, but pity and anger. He never noticed exactly when Maria joined them, still holding back from the sight and smell, but finally observing.

“What am I looking for Simon?”

“This.” Simon pointed to a large artery running down the opened front cavity along the sternum and ribs.

“The vertebral artery?”

“Yeah, that’s the ticket, the real deal, but notice how round it is. It's filled. The body wasn’t just preserved, processed with embalming fluid, but the fluid was replaced with this stuff. All the major arteries and veins are filled with it.”

Michael frowned at it. “What is it?” Simon just shrugged. Until an analysis could be run, he could only hazard a guess.

“Latex.” Michael turned to Maria quickly when she spoke softly. “I’ve seen this before.” She had both Simon and Michael’s undivided attention.

“An archeological site, some cultural practice?”

Maria just shook her head no. “Biology. I saw it when I was doing biology.”

Simon moved them away from the body and leaned his hip on the side of his desk. Michael stood observing his smaller partner.

“In biology we did dissections. The specimens were provided by special scientific companies that specialized in preserved ones.” Both men took a sharper interest in her observation at the mentioning of preserving a specimen. “The thing with the dissection specimens is that their arteries and veins were shot full of this latex material to help them stay firm and obvious. Usually red for the arteries, and blue for the veins.”

Simon swore under his breath and told them to wait. Leaving them there with the body he went down the hall to his office and searching through his books, found what he needed. Going back, he found them looking through the pictures and lab reports.

“This is an atlas of the human body used in gross anatomy dissection labs. There is another that is used called A.D.A.M., but this one is excellent because it's an actual body, cut up and dissected slice by slice. Notice the veins and arteries on some of these pages.”

Maria and Michael looked at what Simon was showing them. The arteries and veins were filled with colored latex to show the routes and points of origin.

“What does this mean?” Michael asked.

Simon closed the book. “It means that we have a starting place to locate the materials used, and the possible scientific companies that are suppliers.” Simon looked over at the body. “You should also know that not only were the internal organs gone, but all cavities were scrubbed clean with what looks like an acid wash, from the mouth cavity, the vagina, and even the residual colon and rectal tract. She was opened, gutted, and cleaned, and then filled with this foam medium, and glued closed.”

Maria was looking at the body, when she noticed a mark on the inner thigh. “Michael, what’s that?”

Both Simon and Michael took a closer look. Simon looked at his notes making sure it was noted. “It’s just a birthmark.”

Michael frowned. “Would it have been obvious when she was alive?”

“Probably not. It’s just a patch of skin that has a pigmentation. When we’re alive small capillaries fill our skin with blood and that blood is what gives a lot of the coloration, or what we call blush, added to skin pigmentation. In life, this woman’s birthmark might have blended in, almost matching her normal skin color. But in death those capillaries would have emptied, leaving the skin more pale and blanched while the birthmark’s pigmentation would have appeared even more obvious.”

Maria backed off and sat up on the corner table where the paperwork was done, leaving Michael to work.

“She didn’t have any nail polish or makeup on.” Michael said.

“That's correct. Even her nail beds were clean of residual dirt. She was scrubbed down to the skin, and then sprayed with a clean lacquer or shellac.” Simon watched Michael processing everything in his way, and looked over at Maria discreetly as she went through the case reports on the table. Interesting couple, he smiled to himself. The rumors about them were all over the place. Damn, but they were so much alike and at a glance, so different. Of course Guerin never looked that good in jeans.

“Michael, I wanted to ask, how did you know she was embalmed from just a smell? It’s not a common knowledge smell, and it was discreet enough that I almost missed it.” Actually he would’ve missed it if Michael hadn’t told him to take a large whiff.

Michael just shrugged and went back over to where Maria was reading and re-examined the crime photos. “It smelt like a Fry.”

Maria looked up and frowned. “What’s a Fry? Like MacD’s Fries?”

“Marijuana cigarette dipped in embalming fluid, usually laced with PCP or crack cocaine. Once you smelt it burned, its hard not to recognize. The smell stays with you.”

~~~

Kyle sat frozen, the electrical connections between his brain and body were fried for a space in time, but it felt longer. Like an eternity. Looking over at the petite blonde sitting next to him, he noticed her reaching for the coffee he had made her. Grabbing the cup before she could, Kyle went into his kitchen and dumped it down the drain. Tess silently watched him as he reached into a shelf and grabbed a glass, and then poured milk into it from a cartoon from the refrigerator.

Kyle handed the Tess the milk. “Drink this. Caffeine isn’t good for the baby.”

Pregnant. Tess was pregnant. Kyle kept saying it in his head, but it wasn’t making any sense to him. All those years, all that time she was with Jack, married to him; Kyle had prepared himself to hear those words. Practicing to be happy for them, and suddenly he was unprepared.

“Pregnant?”

“Kyle, that’s what it’s usually called when you're gonna have a baby.” Tess said as she sipped on her milk with a grimace. Disgusting stuff. She searched in her bag while Kyle sat in shock, still trying to process the news. Giving up, she went into his kitchen and searched for something to add to her milk. Tess smiled at the box with a rabbit on the side. Figures. Of course Kyle would still drink chocolate stuff in his milk. Tess then added some Tabasco, but it wasn’t enough, so she added more, tasted it, and then added more again.

“Evans?”

Tess went back to sit next to Kyle. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” Kyle said in his matter-of-fact voice. “You tell him?”

“No. I can’t. I’ve been crying for days. You’re the first person I've told.”

“I’m flattered. I think.” Kyle looked at his life long friend. “You’ve got to tell him, Tess.”

Tess just groaned and sat back with her head resting on the back of the sofa. Kyle joined her, and took her hand in his.

“I just broke up with him. I can’t just show up on his doorstep and announce, ‘Hi, know I dumped you, but guess what? The condom failed three months ago.’ I mean how’s he supposed to take that?” Tess face became thoughtful. “Maybe I could just not tell him, and see if he guesses?”

“Tess.”

“Or I could let him assume its yours.”

That comment made Kyle sit up straighter, and away from her. “No!”

“I’m sorry. Of course you wouldn’t want to be the father.” Tess avoided his eyes.

“It’s not that...of course I would want to be the father, um...I mean, that’s if...oh hell!” Kyle had no idea what he felt. It was all confused inside. Happy, sad, angry, confused, okay confused again, add in some curiosity, and a sh-it load of...jealousy, maybe even envy. Beating the sh-it out of Max Evans might make him feel better. “Was this why you wanted to have lunch with me yesterday?”

“Yeah, that and to see your freaked-out face.” Kyle reached over a tweaked one of her curls.

“Sorry I missed that. There I was, trying to figure out how I was going to shimmy into slut-boy leather pants, and instead I could’ve let you ambush me at some restaurant in Roswell.” Tess looked at him with curious speculation in her eyes. Slut Boy in leather. Yeah she could see that. “Wait, did you say the condom failed three months ago? You’re three months along?”

Tess tried to shake off the mental picture of Kyle in tight leather pants. “Yeah,” she said distractedly. Not working. Oh, wow.

“And you just figured it out?” Kyle asked as Tess nodded yes. “Great sleuthing abilities, Nancy Drew! Didn’t you get a clue when Aunty Flo didn’t pay you a visit?”

Tess smacked him hard on his stomach. “Shut up! I was never regular; my cycle was all over the place from all those years of dancing. Three months was sort of long, but I was in denial. I mean, I had just broken up with Max and suddenly I’m finding myself tied to him for life through a baby? Color me weak, delusional and in denial, or just insane, but I kept hoping I was wrong.”

“Dammit! I must be gay! Women start talking to you about their ‘cycle’ and you get a handjob in a gay bar, that has to mean something.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

So Kyle told her about his misadventures to distract her away from her own problems for a while. That’s what friends do, even friends who wish and want to be more, but just can't bring themselves to try.

“I don’t think you’re gay, or that little incident makes you gay.” Tess said laughing. “What about Pamela Troy in the ninth grade?”

“I think we should start with Carly French in the eight grade.” Kyle said. “She was my first.”

“That doesn’t count if you do it in your pants.” Tess said not noticing the redness of Kyle’s face.

“Wait! How did you know about that? I never told you, and I know I never told Jack!” Tess’s face turned red and biting her lip from laughing she just shrugged. “Carly told you!”

“No. Not technically.” Kyle groaned. Oh, that bitch! So glad she's now a checker at K-Mart, married to a drunk who slept with a bar waitress at the Cow Patty, and has three children and about that many teeth.

“Explain, not technically.”

“Well there’s this wall in the girl’s restroom...” Kyle groaned even more, like he was in pain. He put his hands in his head. Gay was looking better and better. “That’s the year you got the nickname.”

“Nickname...oh wait, I remember that! PJ. Never could figure out why I was called that.” Kyle’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as Tess avoiding him. “Tess? Tess, dammit tell me!”

“Premature eJack. PJ.” Tess said softly watching closely for Kyle’s reaction.

“Oh, god. Just kill me!” Kyle laid his head back against the sofa with Tess’s. “And my two best friends in the whole world, you and Jack didn’t even spot me a clue.”

”Well, we didn’t call you that either, if you remember. And...and..the next year your name changed after you and Pam did it, um...” Tess made a slight helpless gesture to denote sex. “Getting caught making it with Pam for the third time under the bleachers was a reputation-making moment.”

“I was pretty studly!” Kyle said congratulating himself. “But why the hell did I get the nickname 'Snuff'?” Kyle asked as Tess fell over to the side laughing hysterically. “Tess? Hey, cut it out!” Kyle grabbed at her and they fought around as Kyle tickled her.

“OH!” Suddenly Tess stopped moving.

“What? Are you okay? Did I hurt you...the baby?” Kyle quickly sat up and pulled Tess up with him. Tess just shook her head, but quickly grabbed Kyle’s hand and put it on her just barely bulging tummy. Suddenly Kyle’s concerned face changed to wonder as a soft fluttery movement under his fingers alerted him to just how real the situation was. “Oh God, that’s the baby! Wow!”

“I just started feeling that recently. It’s all fluttery-like, but soon I should feel kicks.” Tess suddenly became quiet, pushing the hair from her face that went out of control from their tickle fight. “I’m having a hard time with myself, Kyle.”

“You don’t want the baby?” Kyle left his hand on her stomach. How could she not want this wonderful little thing moving inside her?

Tess’s hand went over his. “Don’t be an ass, of course I want it. I’ve carried him for three months. I just always thought it would be Jack’s or even...” Tess’s voice trailed off. She whispered it so low that Kyle almost didn’t hear it. “Yours.”

That hurt. It hurt him more than when Tess and Jack got married. He could’ve handled her carrying Jack’s baby, or even another man’s, but he couldn’t handle her wishing it had been his. But the gentle fluttery feeling under his fingers made it all right, gave it some perspective.

“It is mine. It’s yours and mine, because we’re friends. For life. And whatever this baby is, it’s you, Tess. All you, and so it has to be all mine, too.”

Tess looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “Thanks, Kyle.” He hugged her tight to his side kissing the top of her head.

Tess just rested against him. Too long, she had waited too long. When she and Jack were married they decided to wait to have kids until she finished her Masters. Then she lost Jack before her Masters was completed. After resuming her friendship with Kyle a year ago, she suspected that someday when she was ready, she would ask Kyle to father her child. It didn’t pay to plan everything.

“You have to tell him, Tess. You know that, right?” Kyle swallowed as he felt her head nod against him. And he said it, even though he knew it was going to hurt. “Maybe the baby will change things, and you and Max will give it a try.”

“No. No, Kyle. I broke up with him for specific reasons, and the baby doesn’t change those.” Tess left her hand on her stomach. “It’s just me and the baby.”

“And me.”

Reaching up, Tess kissed him gently on the lips. “And you. The three of us again. I’m naming him Jack.”

~~~

Sean and Andy arrived at The Den while it was still early evening, booking rooms in the private club. It was an exclusive Player Club with bondage and leather games on the menu, and pain for dessert. It was a perfect place to run away to for a few hours of distraction. Some used it as a release valve from their lives, others just got a thrill out of feeling on the edge, but some craved it, needed it deep in their soul.

The club was separated into different sections by a full size bar on all levels and dancefloors with entertainment. The Cathedral on the top floor was a large emporium of fun and debauchery, but only at a light level. The lower floors became progressively more hardcore until one reached the final level known as The Dungeon. Even the Dungeon had color-coded zones, Red being the ultimate in pain. All levels came with private session rooms where almost any combination could be found and requested. All employees were slave-trained. Even the Doms had to pass slave-training before progressing to Master rankings. The Den was a very professional establishment with rules and regulations, and all guests were by invitation only or entered via sponsorship by an existing member.

Andy and Sean had often visited The Den while friends and partners in Vice, but the two varied in temperament. Andy was more into going for good-natured fun, a little of the slap and tickle, and an opportunity to get really ripped with a safe place to sleep it off. Sean was of a different caliber. He visited for a touch of domination with increasing pain rewards. What started as an adventure with the thrill of alternative sex combined with a touch of violence, fast escalated into something different, something that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with control and power.

The Cathedral was too tame for Sean. He could tolerate it for small periods of time, but it was like hanging with little girls who giggled at the mention of underwear, and who felt public nudity was an outrage, but dreamt of the sexiness of leather. The boys were worse. They still turned red at the idea of masturbating to dirty magazines.

Andy went down a few levels, but mostly he stayed with the light stuff. His trips to the darkside were through Sean alone. Over the last few years he acted as Sean’s spotter, or safety. It was part of a system of checks and balances in all of the games.

The Dom was the first control. A good Dom knew that their responsibility was to the subservient, to ensure they were never in any real danger. The second control was the subservient that had a safety word to end the games, and generally a ball or object they held in their hand that they could drop, should the game advance beyond their endurance rendering them unable to speak their safety word. The third control was the safety or spotter whose job was to view the games as an observer, watching their charge for signs of being too far gone to stop the game. And the final control was the actual Controller, an overseer in the room whose first and only responsibility was to enforce all club rules and to protect the interest of The Master, the owner of The Den.

Andy and Sean sat at the bar drinking and laughing, catching up on a year of silence, except for occasional passing in the corridors at work. Andy looked through the scheduled entertainment and the shows open to all participants, while Sean signed over a request form for a special session in The Dungeon.

“Sean, you want to go to the Cathedral tonight?” Andy already watched Sean drink down two beers with chasers. The man looked rough and worn.

“Not in the mood for giggly girls and bashful boys feeling dirty. I think I’ll see if the session I want it possible, otherwise, I’ll just take my misery as a nice drowning.” Sean grabbed some c-ocktail peanuts and munched on them.

“You don’t know what you’re missing. It’s bitches and britches in swings!” Andy wiggled his brows at Sean.

“In a word, no. Thanks anyway, il mio amico.” Sean tapped his empty on the bar, and it was immediately refreshed. “I’ll wait to see what comes my way.”

“What type of session did you request?” Andy frowned. This wasn’t good. Sean was looking too stressed and too out of it.

“Just a specialty, but I want a specific Dom, and she might not be available. If that’s the case then it’s me and a bottle of whiskey.”

“Is this an all or nothing deal?” Sean just nodded. “Well, guess I can wait until you see if your evening is going to fly, or whether you’ll just have to find some other entertainment.”

Sean looked at Andy. It was hard to miss the concern in his eyes, or the way he kept checking Sean out. “Go to the Cathedral. I might not get my answer until tomorrow. There’s no reason for both of us to have no fun, pissing and moaning in our beers.”

“I can wait.”

“Just go, Andrew, don’t be a stoop. Dungeon Red requires a spotter. If it comes through I’ll wade through the virgin twitters and find you.” Sean looked at his friend and smiled. “Otherwise, you can find me here getting blotto, and when you have to put me to bed I will no doubt make a pass at you, offer and give you head, and pass out all dirty in my sheets.”

“Sound like heaven on my side.” Andy laughed. Those bitches and britches on swings sounded like too much fun to pass up. “Are you sure? I can stop back in an hour to check on you.”

“Go, or I’m going to schedule you for the Japanese torture of back massage by a sumo wrestler.” Andy still looked unconvinced. “Go!”

Ten minutes after Andy finally left to go spit beer at fags on a wire, and offer his tongue to strange women, the invitation card to open the Dungeon arrived. Felicia was available. Tossing down a tip on the bar, Sean signed his membership number to his bar tab and took off to the very bowels of Hell for a session with an Amazon blonde warrior that made Adolph Hitler look like a campfire girl. Sean smiled when he noticed his request for her to wear a wig of red curly hair was granted.

Andy came back a little after the hour, laughing at the performance he had just seen. Searching the bar area for Sean, he was disappointed that his friend was gone. Frowning, he took a bar seat next to the ones they had before in case Sean was in the john.

“Your friend left,” said the bartender as he placed a c-ocktail napkin before Andy and waited for his order.

“Left? For the night or to catch a show?”

“He got a private session card.” No way. There was no f-ucking way! Sean could not enter a session without a spotter. That was against the rules.

“How long ago?”

The bartender just shrugged. “Maybe just under an hour. I could check the time receipt for his signed tab.

“Never mind. Just give me a spotter’s card to the Dungeon.” The bartender went to find the generic cards that were needed to open the special door. Andy looked at the metallic stripped card and headed off to find Sean, but he had to know. “Who was the special with?”

“Flicker. She’s a bitch. I wouldn’t put my ass under her whip.”

Andy knew her well, mostly by reputation. Moving quickly to the special elevator doors that needed the key card, Andy rubbed his face. Dammit, how could he f-uck this up so badly! Stepping into the elevator he started praying he wasn’t too late. “Bloody hell!”

It wasn’t hard to find Sean. Andy heard the din as soon as he left the elevator. Loud whispers of awe and horror echoed down the halls of the Dungeon. The darkened room, decorated in gothic style and lit with candles created the mood. Andy winced as he fought his way through the growing crowd. He could hear the whip, but no sounds except the angry grunting of frustration from a woman.

Andy pushed his way through the crowd milling around that one room in the Dungeon . His heart was out of control searching for Sean, praying it wasn’t him, but knowing it was. A large man in black leather stopped him. He was the Controller.

“No one enters. There’s a session in progress.”

“I’m his spotter.” The man looked at him, and then up and down, and then at the scene behind him.

“You should’ve entered at the beginning.”

“And you shouldn’t have let him enter without a spotter, especially not with that bitch!” Andy tried to push through the crowd covering the periphery of the room. “Get the Master. Now!”

Andy stood shocked on the edge of the crowd. The voices around him were whispering in awe at the scene, some horrified and fascinated at the same time, and others aroused. Sean was chained with his arms spread above his head, and his feet in a spreader bar shackled in iron. Andy could see six floggers of different weights tossed to the floor, all of them bloodied and used. She must have gone through them all until the whip was the only instrument left. It was a heavy-handled whip, capable of tearing though the hide of a bull, and it was ripping strips of flesh off of Sean.

The woman was using a full lashing bullwhip. The cuts on his body were bleeding into a large puddle below the bar. Sean’s head was bowed, and Andy almost gasped when Sean raised his swollen face and sneered at the woman.

Andy watched transfixed, as pure rage and hatred crossed the woman’s features, and she raised her arm to hit Sean again. Andy quickly moved and caught her arm before she could deliver the blow. He turned in horror at the cackling dry sound of Sean’s laughter. The woman tensed under his arms and tried to throw him off.

"MINE until I say otherwise!!!!" The woman screamed at him.

“I’m his safety, and it’s over!”

Andy was shocked as the scream of ‘No!” came from both the woman and Sean at the same time.

“Take him down! Now!” Andy ordered. The woman looked at Andy, who was usurping her authority and her den, and raised her arm to him. Andy reached to his back under his leather vest and pulled out his service revolver c-ocking it in her face. His eyes telling her that he had no problem shooting her.

“Stop!”

A hard unyielding voice rang above the commotion of the crowds. Andy refused to remove his eyes from the woman until he saw her eyes move through the crowd at that voice. Suddenly the woman’s hand dropped, tossing the whip to the ground and her eyes followed it down. Only then did Andy look at the tall man walking towards them as the crowds cleared a path in front of him. He was tall-very tall-with a shaven head and a beard. His eyes were as dark and cold as obsidian, and his authority was unshakeable. The Master, owner of the Den, had entered the room.

The man surveyed the scene and noticed the red control ball still in Sean’s hand. Sean lifted his face and looked at The Master with one eye swollen shut where he had taken a lash across it, his body covered in sweat and blood, and there was defiance in his face. The man just nodded and turned away.

Looking at the woman who once held the whip, and then at the abandoned floggers on the floor, he made eye contact with one of his Controllers.

“Felicia, you’re banned.” His voice was hard and cold, brooking no mercy.

“No! You can’t do that! The slut didn’t use his safety word, he came without his spotter, and he never dropped the ball. I was within my rights at his insolence!” The man just turned his back on her as two of his men removed her screaming in rage. “Take him down. Call Medical and place him in a cubicle.” Two other men came and started unchaining Sean who was still conscious, but not really aware. It was his hiss of pain followed by bitter laughter that had the large man look back at him. “Carefully! Take him down carefully.”

Turning to see the crowds gathered in the room, he turned his odious eyes on them and the disgust of his voice shook the room. “This is not a human c-ockfight, a blood sport. You’ll not watch death in this place for your pleasure. Any of those who do not leave now, will be expelled.”

Andy stood in his place looking at the ground, but he knew the crowds dissolved immediately. The Master walking around him, saw the dropped whip and picked it up.

“Where did this come from?” The Master asked the Controller of the room.

“The Dom brought it with her.”

“Take it from my sight and destroy it. No outside implements are allowed, and especially not bullwhips. Those are the rules. Your place is in my room. I will deal with you soon.”

“Yes, Master.” Said the Controller in a subservient voice as he quickly left.

The man finally returned to stand beside Andy. “Your part in this?

Andy looked up when spoken to. “I was the safety. His spotter. I called the game.” Andy spit out the word ‘game’. There was nothing gamelike about it. Sean and the spawn of hell, Felicia had a vengeance war between them brokered and seeded by her need to break Sean, and Sean’s resolve to remain in control.

“You waited too long to do your job. Your charge is damaged.”

“He left without me. Entered the session alone.” The Master nodded at that information. The Controller would have to answer for that too. No one entered the Dungeon Red level without a safety spotter, but either way the Dom was ultimately responsible to call the session. Felicia had broken her vow as a Dom.

“The gun. Yours?”

Andy nodded. “I’m licensed to carry.”

The man leaned in and spoke directly in Andy’s ear in a voice so low and cold it burned. “No one. NO ONE brings a weapon into my establishment. I don’t care if you're licensed, a cop, or God Almighty Himself. NO ONE carries here.”

Andy nodded, but held his tongue. Excuses wouldn’t do any good and the use of them would make his offense worse.

“This is your only warning.” Andy bent his head in submission. “My slave will take you to your charge. I’ll come check back later after I’ve reviewed the security video of the session.” He held out his hand at waist level. Andy dropped to his knees before the man and kissed his ring.

“Thank you, Master.” Andy remained head bent subservient until The Master left the room, and then rose to follow a Controller who lead him to Sean.

Andy stood against the far wall watching the doctor tend to Sean’s wounds. A few, actually more than a few, required stitches. The loss of blood drove his blood pressure to almost nothing, so Andy stood stonefaced watching the slow drip of saline back into Sean’s body.

The sounds Sean was making confused all the men in the room. It was like he was laughing and humming at the same time. Finally Andy moved over to the bed and took a seat on a low stool set on rollers. Sean looked up at him, his eyes were glassy and unfocused. He seemed confused.

“I beat her. I beat the bitch. She doesn’t own me. Doesn’t.” Sean replaced his head on the bed. “Did I pass out?”

“No.” Andy frowned at the doctor. Sean was confused. “I think you hit pain level 10. I hear that it short circuits the brain so nothing makes sense. You're confused from the pain.” Andy looked over at the doctor to confirm he was right. The man nodded and continued to sew up Sean’s back.

“I’m not even using a local on him. He has so much adrenaline and endorphins in his blood right now, I doubt he could feel anything.” Another man handed Andy a glass of juice with a straw. “Feed him the juice. He’s going to need the sugars soon. I think in about ten minutes to half and hour he’s going to drop, and his blood sugar should go with it. I’m replacing some volume, but he needs to rest.”

“Andy, Andy, I beat the bitch. I won.” Sean was still talking slurred. Andy put the straw between his lips and told him to drink. “No you don’t understand. She tried to break me...Cassie tried...but I wouldn’t break. I beat that murderous bitch. I spat in her eye. I felt nothing. Nothing. No matter how hard she tried. I’ll never get hard for that bitch again.”

Andy face paled and covered with sweat, as it became apparent what was going on with Sean. “Sean, you’re hallucinating. Cassie Welsh died. She’s dead, buddy.”

Sean’s voice came in whisper, slurred and hushed sounding like a child that was afraid to speak too loudly or the monster would find him.

“No, she’s alive. She never dies, but I killed her. I kill her every night.” Sean body began to sink as he drifted to sleep. “I hate it when they refuse to die...”

Shock moved across Andy’s face. He knew, they all knew about the Cassie Welsh case a year ago. The murdering bitch was one of their own, and she almost killed four members of the Roswell PD including Sean and two civilians, one of which was Sean’s cousin. She also killed numerous other people, including her own family members before they caught her. It was a slap in the face of the law enforcement community to house a viper like her in their midst without noticing. The only one who even started to have a clue about her was Michael Guerin, but his dislike of most people made it hard for people to really listen to him. And in the last year since that sick murderess died, Sean was still trying to exorcise her from his mind.

Andy looked at the wounds Sean had taken without either a cry or a plea for release. How long since what started as a simple lifestyle on the edge took off into an adventure in nothing but pain? Andy doubted it was about sex or arousal for a long time, at least not the heavy hardcore stuff.

“Don’t worry, he’ll sleep. His body needs to recharge and come back to a balance. When he wakes, he’s going to be in pain.” The doctor finished up on Sean’s back and gave Andy prescriptions for pain pills, antibiotic cream for wound care, and special antibiotics to protect against infection. “These you can fill later. I’ll give you some pain medication to cover him until he gets home, but he’s going to need to stay here for awhile so I can check his blood pressure. That IV is the first of many. I’ll start replacing and monitoring his sugar, but right now he needs rest.” The doctor got up and gave Andy his card with number. “I’ll be back, but if he needs me just give me a ring.”

Andy nodded absentmindedly and barely noticed that the doctor stopped outside the door to report his findings and give an update on the patient. It took a few minutes to register that someone was watching him from the door. The Master.

Andy started to rise, but the man motioned him to remain seated. “It’s okay. In here there is no hierarchy. We’re just men.” He entered the room and took a seat at the bedside with Andy.

The two men regarded each other openly. Two different lifestyles, but somehow they had some commonalities.

“I watched the tape.” The Master’s jaw flexed and tightened. “It went wrong from the first moment. He was defiant, refusing to give her the power and respect that is her due as the Dom. Felicia was the hardest dominatrix in my stables. She loved to drive strong men beneath her, and she wasn’t the most stable, but she's never crossed the line before.”

“Do you know what set her off? Besides Sean’s attitude, I mean?”

“Yes. I think it was because she couldn’t get him to respond to her. The session had lasted almost forty-five minutes before you interrupted it, and not once in that time did he get hard or aroused. It pissed her off, and the more she beat him, the more defiant he became, and without uttering a word he was driving her to kill him. For a control scenario, he controlled her, and that made her impotent, enraged her.”

“Why did your Controller let this go unhindered?”

“That’s been taken care of. It will never happen again. In over ten years in this business, I’ve only had two deaths in my house. One was a man with a weak heart, and since then I have required physical exams to keep the play clean and safe. And the other was unforeseeable, the man had a weak vessel in his brain. The aneurysm occurred while he was playing in the funhouse with his wife and friends.” The man reached into his front lapel pocket and pulled out a slim cigarette case and offered one to Andy before taking his own. “The doctor is of an opinion that your friend needs to go to the hospital, but I told him that you’re the spotter, the decision is yours.”

“Sean wouldn’t want to go.”

“I don’t care about what he wants. Tonight he proved himself unable to make sane rational decisions regarding his own health. There was too much that went wrong in that room tonight, but your friend walked in wanting it to go down that way. He ditched you on purpose. He was egging her on, and I can only think that he wanted to die.” The man took another drag on his cigarette and regarded Sean with interest. “Why didn’t he drop the ball? It was the damnest thing. That much pain, that far gone, his muscles should have loosened enough to make the ball drop whether he wanted it or not.”

Andy took the red ball that he had earlier pried out of Sean’s hand and gave it to The Master. “He couldn’t. The sick bastard superglued it to his own hand.” Andy just ran a hand over his face and sat forward in his chair dropping his head into his hands. That stupid sick f-uck. He tried to commit suicide tonight in the only way he knew how.

“This is not the place for your friend. This business is all about pleasure and pain, and those who take pleasure in pain. Your friend was somewhere beyond that. He is limited to the upper levels for the next year. If he wants, I will review his status in a year and maybe open his options, but what he’s searching for he can’t find here.” The Master stood and looked at the ball again and then at Sean. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a business card case and wrote some names on the back of a card. “Here are some trained professionals. They’re good people, and one is in Roswell. Someone has to know about this. He didn’t succeed tonight, but with his job...it’s only a matter of time before he walks in front of that fatal bullet. I’ll leave you to make the decision, but if you need an ambulance let the attendant know and arrangements will be made.”

“Thank you, Master.” The man acknowledged Andy’s respect and left.

Flipping the card over and over in his hand, he watched the names of trained psychologists move through his hand. Sean DeLuca, old buddy, you sure have a way to suck the fun out of a f-ucking ordinary day! If all he wanted was punishment, Andy could have run him over a few times with his car. Andy stopped watching and leaned back in the chair. He needed to think.

~~~

He moved through the crowd of bodies, feeling the beat of the music and the noise in his head like the pounding of voices. The shrill high-pitched laughter was making him nauseated. Changing his attitude and gentling his face into smile, he blended.

The sound of the lead singer drew his eye. As he tried to filter out the other sounds, he bumped into a young woman who sent him a smile. Returning it, he listened to the voice, but when the crowd cleared he could see the tall thin man singing. He was marred. His body had piercing at his stomach and above his eye. Suddenly the singer’s body gyrated to the music and a nipple ring flashed in the bright lights. The tattoos covered different places of his body and made the scarred imperfections obvious.

This piece of walking blemishes was forgiven. He knew he was marred and displayed it like a badge for the world to see as a warning. Nothing hidden, nothing broken then glued. The singer wasn’t offering lies of excellence hiding the most obvious scars.

He walked among the young, and hunted. After hours of patience, he was just about to give up for the night, when he heard her. A young girl, long shining red hair to her waist, stood at the mike crooning a low husky song full of smoky rich tones and promises. Sipping his drink, he melted into the crowd and watched her, analyzing the scene and creating the strategy for capture. It was only Friday night, he had time to perfect it, work the angles until it was just right.

~~~

It was already dark when Max finally woke up. He had gotten home at two in the afternoon, after running errands on his way. Exhausted and unwilling to let his brain think, he happily tossed away the world for a better one of sleep. It was almost ten, and unwilling to cook, Max called in an order for pizza, extra pepperoni, peppers, and anchovies.

Turning on the television to keep him company, he grabbed a plate and napkin and sat up to watch the night news and eat. He should call Michael and check in, but he was avoiding Michael. Surprisingly it wasn’t because of the conversation he had with Jonathan about his fascination with Maria. It was the other thing. That thing he wasn’t going to talk about, dream about, or dammit, obsess over.

He had kissed a man. Not just kissed, he had danced with him. Close. Close enough to feel his body, smell his body, and hear his voice in his ear. Close enough to rub up against an erection, and to use that body to rub his own erection against. What the hell? What the frickin’ hell was wrong with his head lately, both of them?

He needed to talk, but there was no one he could talk to about this. Michael? He needed to figure this out without his partner. Maria? In a word no. Jealous raging Michael ripping his body apart wasn’t going to solve his problems. Actually it would, but not in a left-living way. Kyle. Hell no, not with Mr. ‘I'm a gay dancing slut and loving it’ Boy. There was no way Kyle could understand his hangup. To Kyle it was all a fun-loving game. Sean? Sean was a possibility. He didn’t seem to mind the walk on the other side, and Sean wouldn’t see being aroused or attracted to another man as being anything wrong. Sean was in Albuquerque. Finally, Max picked up the phone and made a call.

“Can I speak to Isabel Evans, please.” Max waited while the person who answered the phone went to find Isabel.

Isabel had left Roswell a year ago to go into a special rehab clinic for her alcohol, drug, and sexual problems. After finishing the program, the only program she had ever finished, Isabel refused to return home. She stayed in Arizona, and lived in a special halfway house working crisis lines for other people like her. Max wanted her to come home, but for once in her life, Isabel refused to be dependent on Max or Michael. She looked at them as a pitfall back into her co-dependent lifestyle.

“Hello?” said a male voice on the other end of the phone.

“Yes, I was calling for Isabel Evans.”

“Can I ask who is calling?”

“This is her brother.”

“Max or Michael?”

“Max.” Max frowned at the phone. “Look, can I just speak to my sister?”

“I’m sorry. That’s impossible. Isabel has left the house.”

Why didn’t the jerk just say so from the getgo? “Okay, do you know what time she’s scheduled to come home, and can I leave a message for her?”

“No, I mean she has left the home. She no longer lives here.”

Max was silent for a second, silenced and stunned. She didn’t call. How could she not call? “Where did she go? Did she say?”

“No. Sorry. She just packed up her stuff, quit her job, and left.” The man paused on the other line. “Sorry, man.”

“Yeah, right.” Max hung up the phone. Wonder if Michael knows? Max looked at his phone, but he didn’t want to talk to Michael at that moment. Isabel, where the hell are you?

Max got up and went into the kitchen. Taking a beer out of the refrigerator, he didn’t even bother with a glass. Half a beer was his personal limit, but tonight, he didn’t give a f-uck. Sitting down on his sofa, he started drinking his beer.

~~~

Michael and Maria were fixing themselves a late breakfast. They had both awakened earlier that morning, and with a groan decided to sleep in. The phone continued to ring, and they both continued to ignore it. Rule number seven held that on weekends or days they had plans together, they didn’t answer their phone. The world could go on without them. Instead they screened their calls, listening for emergencies or a job crisis, everyone else could wait.

“Maria, it’s Mom. Are you home? Pick up.” They shared a common look and ignored the phone. “Sweetie, please pick up. I found the perfect dress for you. It’s taffeta, and so beautiful. A nice brilliant tangerine color made in lotus oriental style. The caboose shouldn’t be a problem since you always wanted a larger...”

Maria gasped in horror and reached for the phone. “No, don’t do it, Professor. She’s just trying to draw you out!” Michael intercepted her hand, and held her strong against him. “You’ll hate yourself.”

“Taffeta! Tangerine!” Maria cried. “Uncalculated beast! Oh God, that I were born not of man! She’s doing this on purpose.” Maria buried her head in his chest as the torture of her mother’s voice continued.

“Don’t break. You’re stronger than that.”

“I made all the arrangements for Michael’s new tux.” Michael groaned as he came under fire. “It's powdered baby blue,” both Maria and Michael moaned in pain, “with tails!”

“Michael, No!” She stopped him from grabbing the phone. He didn’t break. Michael never broke. But the damn phone would if he got his hands on it. “Shush, it’s all right. I’ll talk her out of it.”

“Tangerine and powdered baby blue! Maria!” Michael's whole body shuddered. Damn, he remembered a time when his whole world existed as nothing but Mikey and himself, and there was no awareness of Amy DeLuca that woke him in the middle of the night in a cold sweat of fear. “We’ll look like a sixties' psychedelic nightmare.”

“Honey, I’m not sure, but did Michael have anything to do with my rehearsal dinner restaurant being destroyed? I searched forever to decide on the Palisades. I have a few words to say to him. Honey? Okay, call me back.” The tension in both of their bodies relaxed.

Maria looked at Michael. Damn. Poor man, he didn’t sign up for this. “We could run away together.” Maria let herself worry about the hope and relief that offer sparked in his eyes.