Page 22 of Interview with a Sadist
“So, you’ve seen everything on the first floor. All that’s left now is the VIP section upstairs,” he tells me, and I glance up to find Maddy standing at the top of the stairs watching us. As soon as we make eye contact, she turns on her heel and quickly walks away, so I don't mention it to Nolan, who is solely focused on me.
“All of it is incredible,” I tell him instead. “I’m not sure what I expected before I showed up tonight, but it wasn’t this. You’ve done a great job with this place, Nolan. I’m impressed. I think our readers will be, too.”
Suddenly, Nolan’s demeanor hardens. He tilts his head to the side and frowns.
“You know, Bree, I admire your determination,” he says.
“My determination? What do you mean?”
“It’s impressive just how much effort you're putting into convincing yourself that your only interest is the story for your paper.”
Now it’s my turn to frown, because although I’ve been affected by every single thing I’ve seen tonight, I’ve done a great job keeping those feelings off my face. I thought I was putting on quite the performance, but Nolan continues to see right through me. Nonetheless, I try my best to keep the mask in its place.
“Nolan, my only interestisthe story,” I say, but it doesn't even sound convincing to me. “There is nothing personal about this. It doesn't matter how I feel or where my interest lies. I’m here for the story. Can’t you understand that?”
“Then why did watching it all make you so hot?” he asks, and my entire body stiffens. “You liked everything you saw tonight, and I don't need your words to tell me that you're interested in more than just documenting this lifestyle. I can see it in your eyes that you want to know how it feels. You want to know what draws all of these people to a life like this. You want to know how it feels to be as free as the people you watched today. Now, tell me it’s not true.”
I stare into Nolan’s gorgeous blue eyes and try to find a way to lie to him. This is the part where I’m supposed to revert back to everything I’ve always known. I’m supposed to say that I don't do stuff like this and have no interest in it whatsoever, and even become offended at the accusation. I know what I’m supposed to do, but I can’t bring myself to do it, so I just stand there.
“You don't have to say anything, Bree,” Nolan continues. “I see it in you. I recognize it. I know it’s there, but you don't have to worry. I’m not going to do anything until you ask me to.”
I scowl so hard it hurts.
“Ask you to? I’m not going to … I’m not going to ask you to do anything,” I stammer.
“You will,” Nolan responds, full of self-assurance. “And when you do, I’ll gladly show you whatever you ask. I’ll show you there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
I lick my lips at the thought of Nolan showing me any of the things I’ve been curious about tonight, but I force the thoughts away.
“I’m not afraid of anything, and the only thing I’ll ask you will be questions for the story when we meet for the final part of our interview,” I snip, feeling frustrated at how he reads me so easily. “Other than that, I won't ask anything of you. So, thanks for the tour of the club, and I will call you later to schedule what will be our last meeting.”
Nolan looks down at the floor, his thoughts making their presence known through the expression on his face, but as usual, he keeps his wits about him, burying it all before he looks up at me.
“Okay,” he says.
“Okay,” I reply. “Then I’ll be in touch. Have a good rest of your night, Nolan.”
“Goodnight, Bree,” Nolan says, just before I spin around and walk out.
A Breaking Dam
ChapterFifteen
My shower was cold this morning. I needed it as a distraction from the thoughts that seem to have taken over my mind ever since I left The Black Collar last night—thoughts that weave in and out like a snake in the grass, consuming me, holding me hostage. Everything I’ve done since leaving the club has been bogged down by the memory of everything I saw, and the conversation I had with Nolan—the one where he said he’d be ready and willing to teach me about anything I was curious about. How could I possibly get him out of my head after that?
I’m walking a tightrope now, trying to keep my balance so I don’t fall to my doom, and in my head, collapsing into a world of kink and sexual freedom is the same as being doomed. It doesn’t really matter how much time has gone by or how old I am, the way I was brought up still has me in a chokehold, and I can’t see BDSM as anything other than taboo. My parents and friends would certainly call me a whore for being with someone like Nolan, and it feels nearly impossible to break free of the chains. I’m locked down, and I don’t even know what freedom looks like.
I realize the drive went by quickly as I’m pulling into the parking lot of The Inquirer. My mind was on autopilot the entire commute as I thought about the scene in the impact room of The Black Collar over and over again. The roads and bridges in Philly were replaced by naked bodies strung up on massive Saint Andrew’s Crosses with their limbs spread over the X. The sound of car engines and tires were drowned out by floggers and whips cracking over flesh and sensual moans. As I climb out of my car, I think I might need another cold shower before I begin my workday.
I make my way inside, stepping onto the elevator with the same wild thoughts in the back of my head. I have to try to keep them at bay, or I feel like I might go insane. But how do I do that when I have a meeting with Nolan this afternoon? I don’t know the answer, but if I take some time to not think about the interview, maybe I’ll feel composed enough to prepare later.
“So, tell me all about it,” Octavia blurts the second the elevator doors open.
Damn. So much for that plan.
She stands in front of me with a warm smile and a face that’s eager for adventure, but I ignore it as I walk past her without saying a word, heading for my desk.
“Bitch, I know you’re not ignoring me,” she snips, the front of her feet nipping at my heels. I reach my cubicle and sit down with my back to her, but she spins my chair around and stares at me with bulging eyes. “You better stop playing with me.”
