Chapter 50

I work my way along his racks, trying one thing, then another.

He doesn't stint on his budget….

Spot a man whose enthusiastic about his hobby….

It beats model railways….

"What do you normally use on Charlotte?"

James leans back against the rack, arms folding, his tone conversational. "I tend towards floggers, but don't let that limit you. If you prefer a crop or a paddle, or whatever, then use it. Just don't leave any stripes on her that will take more than a day or so to fade or you'll have Michael to answer to."

Michael's fist…. punching through my office door….

"And Michael will be comfortable with this?"

"He'll be fine." He pauses, rubs the side of his nose. "We used to visit the clubs regularly when we first knew her. I introduced Charlotte to ménage and BDSM, but she took to it like a duck to water. However, we had one occasion…." He sucks at his cheeks….

Choosing his words?

"…. We had an occasion when it got out of hand. Michael refused point-blank after that to allow any more sharing and after what happened, I wasn't inclined to disagree with him."

"But he's alright with me?"

"Yes, he's alright with you." He smiles disarmingly…. "And so long as your sub and my sub both end the evening screaming…. for the right reasons…. the rest is likely to fall into place…." That smile again; open, charming, quite unlike what I'm used to from James. "…. wouldn't you say?"

"I would indeed. So…." I wave vaguely around the room…. "This is your territory. How do we play it?"

"You take the lead with her. I'll be in the background. Charlotte spaces out rather easily. Normally, Michael keeps an eye on her reactions, in case she um, flies over her safe-words. This time, I'll do that for you."

*****

Klempner - Twenty-Six Years Ago

I wake early.

Checking to be sure Mitch is still sleeping, I make my way out of the suite to find a telephone. At the reception desk, "I'd like to make an international call."

The small blonde woman manning the desk speaks accented, but good English. "There is a telephone in your room, sir."

"A private call."

She gives me an odd look but directs me to a small side lounge.

I dial the code and then wait through the usual electronic clicks, squeaks and squawks as the line connects. "Bech?"

"Sir?" He sounds startled. "Where are you? I was begin...."

"I'm in Helsinki. Nothing to worry about. I just had a change of plans."

"Helsinki? What are you doing in Helsi…? Ahhh…. The Eastern Bloc situation? How…." There is a pause. "How did you know, sir, to be there as it happened?"

"Sheer coincidence. The Soviet situation is why I'm calling you. It's not why I'm here."

A pause, pregnant with question. Then, "Why are you there, sir? If you don't mind my asking."

"If you must know, Bech, I'm taking a short holiday. I'm here with a woman."

Even over the crackle of the phone-line, I can hear his astonishment. "A woman? What woman?"

Should I have said that?

Too late now….

"It doesn't matter, Bech. I'm not calling you for that…."

He cuts in, his tone chill. "Don't you think a woman is a distraction from your work, sir? Given the timing?"

Who the fuck do you think you are?

"Mind your mouth, Bech. It's not for you to comment on my private life."

Shock ricochets through his silence. Then, his voice smooth again, he says, "Of course not, sir. My apologies. What is the reason for your call, then?"

"One for you to work on until I get back. Look through the personal columns in the papers."

"The personal columns?"

"Yes, look out for German girls, Russians and other East Europeans…."

A sort silence then, "Ahhh…. I understand you." His voice changes to a fake falsetto. "I am Greta, a beautiful girl of East Germany looking for friendship and romance leading to visa."

"You've got it. Have a trawl to see if there's any low-hanging fruit for the picking."

"Of course, sir. A time of turmoil always produces opportunity. When should I expect your return?"

"Unless there is anything urgent needing my attention, not before the New Year."

"Understood, sir." He rings off.

Right…. Next….

Phone receiver in hand, I hover.

Should I do this?

But I want to….

I dial the number. After half a dozen rings, a voice answers.

"Hello?"

"Frank?"

He sounds pissed. "Hi, Larry. Merry Christmas. So…. where are you then? I've been trying to get hold of you."

"Happy Christmas to you too. I'm in Helsinki…."

"Helsinki…?"

"Yes, Helsinki. Shut up, Frank. Listen, that apartment you showed me, the one that looks over the harbour. I want you to tell them I'll have it."

His voice brightens. "Yeah? I'll get right on it, as soon as the holiday is over. What offer do you want to put in?"

"No offer. I'll give them the asking price. But there's a condition. I want the deal completed by third week January."

"Christ, Larry! That's…."

"I'll pay the costs. Just do it. I'll forward funds and authority to the bank and lawyers the moment you tell me it's on. I'll call you back."

"Fine. Hey, how's Mitch? I was hoping to wish her a Merry Christmas."

Crap….

"She's fine. Sleeping off a long night just at the moment." I let him digest that, then, "I'll call you back in a couple of days to find out what progress you've made."

*****