Strangelove - Part 22
Peter had nearly drowned in Garrett’s wake. With no real answers and even more questions, Peter turned off the interstate highway, headed due north three days later. Garrett had called him twice since they parted ways outside the diner, promising to tell him more with each attempt on Peter’s part. The bastard was charismatic, annoyingly so, and confident in his own brutish way. And he was more convincing than Peter wanted to admit. What kind of man seduces another man’s girlfriend and acts like nothing’s wrong?
Well, there was no proof he’d seduced her. There was plenty of circumstantial evidence, inuendo and suspicion though. And that was enough to keep Peter’s attention. He had to know the truth. What secrets did he have hidden, and which ones were so fascinating to his girlfriend?
He spotted Garrett’s garish truck in the strip center parking lot, idling alongside a light pole in the far corner. He’d only been through this northern part of the state once. The rural outskirts weren’t his scene.
Peter parked alongside, hopping out to meet Garrett at the tailgate. He handed him a black strip of cloth four inches wide. “Get in and put this on.”
Peter gaped at the blindfold. “Are you serious? You said I could see…”
“The place, yes. The route, absolutely not. Do it or you can stay here.”
What a self-absorbed prick, Peter grumbled to himself.
Curiosity was a harsh mistress. With a defeated sigh, Peter stepped around Garrett’s side and opened the door to the truck, the blindfold nestled in his palm. Once it and his seatbelt were in place, Garrett shifted into drive.
The ten-minute trip was silent aside for the hum of the engine and whirr of wind outside. Peter fidgeted, questioning his actions every step of the way. This man was psychotic, but he was even more so for going along with it.
Once Garrett’s truck stopped, he helped his guest down and into the echoey, industrial-smelling building. There were no ambient sounds, no music, no birds, just unsettling silence all around. He reached for the blindfold and felt a strong hand clutch his wrist mid-way.
“Nope, not yet. Come on.”
He was tugged along through a narrow opening once a heavy metal door was pushed aside. This space was much warmer, the sounds of a gentle motor purring a short distance away. The scent of strong cologne, like inside the men’s department of a clothing store, wafted around him.
“Yep, I got you,” Garrett replied, undoing the knot and tugging away the cloth.
Peter blinked hard against the glowing light, whirling in a circle to take in the sight of the dimly lit gothic bedroom. The Sybian, iron sawhorse stand, and a four-foot-tall bronze cage were on display, as were all sorts of paddles, chains and collars. His jaw dropped, eyes wide as he rounded on Garrett.
“Where the hell…?”
“This is her safe space.”
Peter gaped, turning back to the scene. “How in the hell is this a…?”
“Easy,” Garrett outstretched a palm. “It’s a safe space. Period. One I designed for her to use. One she hasn’t used yet.”
“Yet?” Peter shouted, incredulous.
“Not yet,” Garrett replied easily.
Peter’s blood boiled. Garrett was calm, blasé. Awed and terrified, he approached the closest armoire, with its selection of torture devices on display. Turning back, he lifted an uncredulous brow. “She… she wants this?”
Incredulity propelled him forward, logic left steps behind. He stepped to the bed, eyeing the fireplace and rug beside. Another blindfold and a riding crop rested on the white fur. His palms swept nervously up into his hair. “I… I’d never…”
Garrett took a few steps closer. “She wants two things in this world, and one of them is this.”
Peter turned back slowly, his eyes fixed and determined. Fear and hot rage crept up as he anticipated Garrett’s name being the second thing. “What’s the other one?”
Peter froze, his mouth agape.
Garrett closed the distance between them. “And Peter? Know this because it’s the absolute truth. I want her to have both.”
Peter released a shaky breath, the calm in Garrett’s eyes anchoring him. “Show me everything.”
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