Page 19 of Blue Velvet

That’d be great? I sure as hell hope he has more than that to offer. I’ve taken the blame for him more than once, and I’m beginning to think that my failure of a brother is merely using me to compensate for his own deficiencies.

“Can you come over today?”

“No, I can’t. It’ll have to wait until after the weekend.”

“What?! But it’s very-”

“Monday - or not at all, Joel.”

He groans angrily. “Fine. Monday. Lunch at Clark’s?”

“Your treat,” I say, ending the call. I don’t need my useless brother buying me lunch. This is merely a matter of principal.

He’s three years older than me, married, with a child on the way. Yet I’m the one who constantly has to clean up his messes. He’s always been bad at what he does, a terrible business man. The only reason he’s in the position he’s in, as the leading CEO of our family’s corporation, an endeavor started by my late grandfather, is the fact that he’s oldest. My father never even questioned his decision to make Joel heir to his position, even though he has been given plenty of reasons to do so.

His biggest blunder was listening to the wrong guys, men he met while out on one of his drunken gambling tours. Sales tax evasion is a serious offense, and it’s even more serious when it’s done on such a large scale, as he’s done for years. When he got caught, I was the one who helped him out. I took the rap for his misconduct, especially in the eyes of my parents. It was a secret agreement between the two of us. We silently signed over a few major accounts into my name, and I could quickly turn most of the money into innocent income through money laundering. I’m not saying my methods were any more legal than his, but they were definitely smarter and cleaner. The prosecution was led to me, but they were too slow to act before I’d cleaned my accounts. I almost despise how easy it was.

But of course, the investigators have been on to my brother ever since, and I told him more than once to be fucking careful in the future. What I meant was for him to continue business without using any sketchy measures, but he apparently took it to mean just conducting his deeds on a smaller scale.

I rub my temples, trying to get him out of my head. I can’t focus on his bullshit right now. There are more important things I need to take care of.

My toy.

11

Ruby

He doesn’t tieme up this time. Instead, he hands me a bag of potato chips and a sandwich. He seems to ignore my blushed cheeks, and I drop my eyes to the floor in an effort to hide my shame from peaking so easily at his command, and as soon as he sets the food down in front of me, he leaves the room.

I’m curled up on a love seat in the far corner of the basement. It’s the only upholstered piece of furniture in this room that allows for comfortable sitting. I have nothing to wear, since he tore the clothes off my body, and I’m naked with nothing to cover myself with but the big bath towel.

I also don’t have my purse. He must have taken it away from me when I was unconscious. This needs to be rectified. The contract explicitly indicated that I’m allowed to bring one personal item with me, something that can calm me when the challenge of being with him becomes too overwhelming. He’s aware of that because he agreed to the terms, which is why I’m sure he’ll return it to me when I ask him about it.

My eyes study the room as I munch on the potato chips. After he left, I opened the curtains to allow in a little daylight. Anything so that I can switch off that damn ceiling light. It’s way too bright, almost clinically so. The room is only dimly lit now, but it’s still more pleasant than it was before. Next to the stretching bench and the St. Andrew’s Cross, I notice there’s an upholstered bench that I know is designed for bondage and spanking. I’ve been tied up on one of those before, but I didn’t enjoy it very much.

The dark walls are lined with a variety of sex toys on open display: paddles, riding crops, whips, chains, and cuffs. I leave the potato chips behind and get up from the love seat, wandering over to peer curiously into the glass cabinet at the other end of the room next to the St. Andrew’s Cross. Vibrators, dildos, gag balls, and things I can’t even describe are displayed in an orderly fashion. Everything is sparkling so brilliantly that they appear to have never been used.

My heart is racing. I wonder if he’ll use all of these on me? What will he start with?

I flinch and jump away from the cabinet when I hear the door opening behind me.

His dark smile greets me when I turn around. He’s still wearing dark blue jeans and a simple white shirt. The fabric stretches seductively over his strong muscles.

Butterflies. I never understood what people meant about having this sensation of butterflies fluttering in one’s tummy. Maybe this is what they meant, the twisting turmoil that spreads through my center like a rocket whenever he approaches me. It’s not just fear, but excitement - and a strong desire to be closer to him.

“Curious?” he asks, nodding toward the glass cabinet behind me.

“Is that wrong?”

He shakes his head and reaches forward, loosening the towel that’s wrapped around my naked body. I watch as it drops to the floor.

“I want my purse back,” I say in a low voice, without looking up.

“No,” he replies, his tone allowing for no back-talk.

I look up then defiantly to meet his dark gaze. “Yes, you must return it to me. It has my special item.”

He knits his eyebrows together, tilting his head to the side with an expression of confusion on his face.

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