Under The Scarlet Moon novel Chapter 1

My schedule was filled with appointments, a long list of meetings, and at least three hours blocked into work on blueprints for a tiny industrial complex that was taking up half of the firm’s resources. I buried my head in my drawings, coming up for air only to sit back and stare at my work from a different angle—and to take a bite of my tuna sandwich. A few times, I caught myself staring out the window at the grand hotel across the street. Sometimes I looked inside the rooms behind the glass and timber, wonderingly. If only I could peer inside their private spaces and see what went on inside. Every room was a little world, another drama. Was that what KC thought about so much?

As soon as I realized what I was doing, I immediately stopped. Thankfully, these indulgent reveries were becoming less frequent—especially since I was expending so much energy on cutting them out of my mind. KC Gable was just a passing fancy, nothing more. Three weeks, it had been a good rush. And I’d even turned the corner on my malaise, as he had called it; feeling freshly inspired to do the work that Ripley & Wingardt had hired me to do. This was one of my more lucid moments.

Hearing a sudden knock on the door, I absently said, “Come in,” thinking it was my secretary with more specs from my boss. I swiveled on my drafting stool doing an immediate double take seeing KC Gable standing in the center of my office. He looked as reasonable there as Banquo’s ghost. I even pressed my fingers to my mouth as if to squelch a cry.

“Did you get my note?” he asked.

“Yes, yes I did,” I said. My voice must have sounded much too haughty considering his reply.

“So, when did you start with the rich-bitch airs?” he sneered and responded tersely.

“I didn’t know that I had,” I answered.

“Listen to yourself, Gail.”

Any wall I’d erected to keep him out was no more than paper-thin. He was rattling around inside me already.

“So you got my note. What happened next?”

“I decided not to see you.”

“And why’s that?”

I shrugged having no immediate answer.

“If that’s your decision, why didn’t you call and say so? I think we’ve gone too far for this shabby kind of ending.”

“I’m sorry. It was just easier,” I paused, seeing his penetrating stare unchanged, “and now you’re pissed, aren’t you?” I could read his anger as well.

“In a manner of speaking.” He moved further forward until he was standing right in front of me. Nervously, I blew a lock of red hair off my face and when it didn’t stay, KC took his hand and gently pushed it back. “I want the truth, Gail.” He almost looked worried about my answer. “Are you serious about what you wanted, or was that just my imagination? Has this three weeks and our talk in the theatre been about nothing?”

“No, it wasn’t your imagination…” I admitted. “It’s not about nothing—it’s very real.” Yes, he was inside me and more pervasive than ever.

“Then let’s clear up the problem, now. No hesitations.”

I was mesmerized, in an unthinking place.

“You want the spankings?” he asked me.

I cleared my throat. “Yes.”

“You want the discipline?”

“Yes,” I replied. With every question, my body was moving full speed ahead, racing far faster than my brain’s ability to keep up. But it didn’t matter; any thoughtful consideration of his questions was unnecessary. I would have answered the same way.

“And all the denial is just bullshit? Is that right?”

“Yes. I guess it is.”

He knew the answers. I didn’t have to speak. KC read from my brain, finding pages I’d marked ‘secret ’, exposing the truth. I suppose that’s easy with a woman as confused as I have been.

“If that’s so, Gail, then you need to decide now if you want me part of the picture?”

I couldn’t answer.

“We’ve been seeing each other for three weeks. If all I am is an amusing sideshow, tell me now. I won’t try again. I won’t rescue you from bars, or peer into your soul, or bother you when you come to my theatre. I don’t like being rejected, especially by women who ask for favors. There are plenty of places in my life where I can play the fool. I certainly don’t need another one.”

“KC, no. It’s not a game, not a game at all. I was just afraid. After Friday night, I was petrified. It took so much courage for me to see you the next morning, and when you weren’t there, I… I couldn’t do it again.”

He had his warm hands on my knees sending a flood of sexual intensity through my body. Every bit of me was quaking. All that I’d denied the last three days came pouring into my head and between my thighs. Even my bottom started to tingle.

“So, you so want more?”

“In the worst way I want more.”

“From me?”

“Yes, from you.”

He stared around, I think for the first time noting the surroundings—my ultra modern office with its crisp lines and cold form. Banks of windows surrounded me on three sides. He humphed amusedly.

“A liquid prisoner, pent in walls of glass…” he mused.

“What’s that?”

“Shakespeare. Fits, don’t you think. Or perhaps you’re more like fire under glass.”

“Pent?”

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Maybe so.”

He laughed again, to ease the tension that seemed to be splitting the air. “I suppose I look as out of place here as you do in my theatre.”

I breathed a little easier. “So what? Might shake a few people up to see you here, or you just might get called the new mail clerk, but I don’t care.”

“You’re sure?”

“I am.” I wasn’t even trembling, not my legs or hands. Though, my head was pounding and my crotch was frantic with lust. But I did want this man.

“Good. Then tomorrow morning we’ll talk this out. I’ll see you at the theatre ten o’clock.”

“I’ll be there.”

“And since you’ve pressed the point, I suppose here is as good a place as any to start your discipline.” He turned again as though he were looking for something. Having spotted what he wanted, he moved to my desk and swiftly confiscated my thick wooden ruler.

A shock wave of desire swept my system as though he’d just hit me with an electric cattle prod. “Here? Now?”

“You know of any better time? This is one you’ve earned.”

No. Of course not, I said to myself silently, while my mouth managed a hesitant, “No.”

I stood. Everything in my was body quaking now, toes to knees to crotch to shivering shoulders. Spanked in anger has its own thrill; though it’s often gone too quickly to appreciate the feelings. Spanked for discipline was something else. Time makes the erotic feelings emerge and mine were soaring now.

KC sat in a straight-backed side chair while I zoomed to my intercom to inform my secretary that I didn’t want to be disturbed. I suggested that she go to lunch and she agreed. Then turning toward KC, I offered him a quavering smile.