Cardinal's Rule

Chapter Three

Tuesday afternoon, Tilly parked in the public garage off Ringling in downtown Sarasota and donned her dark, mirrored sunglasses. The café where they would meet had outdoor seating. Despite having to put up with smokers, she wanted to be out in public when talking to this man.

Landry LaCroux. His voice bore the barest trace of an accent, but she couldn’t place what exactly. She suspected French. Not Québécois, but more like a native of France.

When the memory of how she might know that threatened to creep in, she squelched it immediately. Too many old memories had tried to sneak in since seeing Landry’s slave at the club. This happened every once in a while. A song would catch her unprepared and nearly take her knees out. Or watching a movie might bring back a memory and send her to bed crying for the evening.

Fortunately, those weak periods happened with rare frequency lately. The other night at the club was her first lapse in several months.

Maybe I should take that as a good sign.

She arrived nearly half an hour early and brought her Kindle to read. She wanted to control the situation, where they sat, everything. She had the waiter seat her on the far end of the patio where she could watch people walk by on Ringling. Ten minutes later, LaCroux showed up.

Her instincts had been right-on there.

“You are very early, Mistress Cardinal,” he observed as he sat.

“So are you.” She leaned back and studied him. “Tell me, Mr. LaCroux, why does a man such as yourself need any kind of assistance? I saw you playing with your slave the other night. A few minutes of it, at least. You seem to have him well in hand.”

The waiter stepped in to take his order. When he left, LaCroux leaned forward. “Please, you may call me Landry.”

“You may call me Mistress Cardinal. You haven’t answered my question.”

He smiled. Charming, disarming. Handsome and trim. Deep green eyes that could show merriment or murderous intent, she suspected. Brown hair, a little grey around the temples. “Even the most talented dog trainer knows when an animal should be handed over to others with different skill sets, as they say. The wisest trainers don’t risk ruining a dog out of hubris over their own talents.”

That’s it. The nagging question drove her nuts. “Are you from France, Mr. LaCroux?”

He apparently decided not to challenge her on the formality. “Excellent ear, Mistress Cardinal. I was raised in Paris, but I attended university here in the States and decided to remain after I earned my degree. I’ve lived here over twenty years and became a citizen. I have no desire to return to France. To live,” he added. “I do have family there I visit, on occasion. My life is here.”

That handled, she studied him. While she’d worked with gay men before, most of her clients were straight. It was unusual for a gay man to come to her for her services. She’d never had a gay Master approach her about training his slave. It piqued her curiosity. “As I told you the other night, I don’t engage in any sexual services. At all. I run a totally legal business, and I want that made perfectly clear from the start.”

“I would not ask that of you.”

She’d managed to stay off the radar as far as law enforcement was concerned. She never broke her “no sex” rule, and she didn’t advertise. All her clients came through word of mouth referrals, and an opening never remained vacant more than a week or two.

“I take cash only. All fees paid in advance at the beginning of the session. For the first session to evaluate him, one hour, one thousand dollars. After that, sessions are one hour each, three hundred.”

More than she normally asked, but it was an easy way to weed out a poser from the rest. He’d either choke, agree, or negotiate. “Also, you cannot be there after the initial negotiations. That takes about twenty minutes. The only reason I’m letting you be there at all is because he’s your slave and you need to participate in the negotiations.”

“Done.”

She felt her eyebrows lift in surprise. Honestly? She hadn’t expected him to agree, especially to the clause of him not being present. That tweaked her curiosity. “What exactly do you hope to gain from my services?”

“Slave tends to hold back sometimes. Information, emotions, for whatever reason.”

“He lies?”

“No, not lies, per se. Despite my repeated orders to the contrary, he tends to overthink things and not give me all the information I request. Be it sentiment or emotions, I don’t know.”

“What made you decide to hire someone to train him?”

At this, she noticed his face clouded. “I recently discovered accidentally that he withheld some rather important information from me. For years. Had he told me when we got together, I would have made drastically different decisions than I did. You see, we were together for a few years, then we broke up. Most definitely my fault. When we reconciled after being apart for several years, I was willing to do anything for another chance with him. I’d never stopped loving him.”

His gaze dropped to his hands. “The circumstances surrounding our reunion were difficult, to say the least. I willingly heard what he told me rather than digging deeper for the truth. My actions—or rather, my lack of action—unfortunately hurt another without me knowing it at the time, because of that withheld information. I doubt there is any way I can atone for it, or even rectify the situation. I must force slave to see what he has done as a result of his withholding that information. He must face the true consequences of his actions.”

Tilly studied him for a long time without speaking. Her bullshit alarm hadn’t gone off…yet. He still held her curiosity. “Again, I’m not sure what you expect of me.”

“I want him to go through a vicious training regimen with another Top. One who can adequately break through this willful streak of his. Someone who maybe has better perceptions than I do. Perhaps someone who can show him a different point of view than he sees with me. Someone who can help him appreciate the error of his ways.”

That didn’t tell her as much as she’d like, but she let it go. “I noticed your phone number isn’t local.”

“It will change soon. We’re moving here from Los Angeles. I have our place there on the market.”

From behind the safety of her dark glasses she watched his face. He looked too pale for someone from L.A., too drawn.

“Are there any health issues I need to be made aware of, Mr. LaCroux?”

He wanly smiled. “I start a regimen of cancer treatments next week. A biopsy first, probably followed by surgery, then chemo and radiation as warranted. I have not told slave this yet and would appreciate your discretion. If your question is are we HIV negative, yes, we are negative. I can give you copies of my most recent medical chart, and slave’s last check-up from three months ago, if you’d like them. No HIV, no hepatitis or other conditions. We are monogamous, and have been in the five years since our reunion. Other than my cancer, we are both healthy. And I assure you, you cannot catch my colon cancer, Mistress Cardinal.”

She blushed. “I’m sorry.” She softened her tone, the man before her now humanized in a way he hadn’t been before. “Will they be able to cure it?”

He shrugged. “Hopefully. Time will tell. I survived a bout of colon cancer a few years ago. My doctors are optimistic but there are, of course, never any guarantees.”

She picked up a hint of something else. “You want him to be able to respond to another Master or Mistress, don’t you? In case you…” She couldn’t complete her observation once the full weight of it slammed home. She genuinely felt sympathetic toward him.

He tipped his head in a nod. “You’re extremely perceptive, Mistress Cardinal. That’s why I feel slave will benefit in your very capable hands. I don’t wish to turn him over to another Owner if I’m not sure he can be completely open with them. I also don’t wish to leave him…adrift, should the circumstances turn against me. He needs a firm hand.”

“Most of my clients aren’t serious players. They just like a little humiliation or domination on occasion. You sound like a serious twenty-four/seven relationship.”

“I own slave. He gave himself to me. I do not take that responsibility lightly. He owns nothing in his name. He works for my company. We have a contract specifying my rights over him as his Master and Owner.”

She knew serious players. Ross and Loren, for example. She’d been one herself, what felt like a lifetime ago. Before…

“Mr. LaCroux, if you want vicious, I’ll be vicious. Short of anything that would permanently mark or disfigure him, I will use him. He’ll have a safeword. If he utters it, breathes it, thinks it, the session ends immediately and doesn’t restart. I won’t refund money if he safewords, even if it’s only five minutes into the session.”

“He will not safeword, I can assure you.”

She had a feeling that wasn’t just bullshit braggadocio either. “Where is he right now?”

“He’s in our hotel room, naked, kneeling on the tile bathroom floor, waiting for me.”

She hoped she kept the shock off her face. “How do you know he’s really doing it?”

“Because I paid the maid cleaning our room one hundred dollars to randomly check on him several times. I also invited her to let some of her fellow maids take a look at him and make fun of him.

I told her it was a hazing ritual.”

“Creative.”

“He despises humiliation. I normally don’t use it with him, but under the circumstances, he has earned harsh treatment. It’s part of his ongoing punishment until I turn him over to your capable hands.”

“It’s not my hands I’ll be using on him.”

He looked amused. “I’m counting on that.”

They agreed upon Wednesday afternoon at five o’clock. Landry would bring slave, as he requested the man be addressed, to her house, leave after the initial negotiation, and return for him at six.

She ran a few errands before heading home. Bob would stop by that evening and she had to admit she looked forward to it.

Maybe she’d finally started healing. Long overdue, but the fact that Bob crossed her mind when he wasn’t in front of her hadn’t happened with any other client.

Or any other man. Well, other than…

She nixed that thought.

He showed up, precisely on time. Bob never arrived late. All afternoon, something had pecked at her mind about him. She decided to find out. Instead of making him kneel like she normally would, she asked him to follow her to the breakfast nook and indicated for him to sit at the table across from her.

He held her chair for her first, like the good boy he was.

She studied his face for a long moment. Blue eyes, nice body, handsome looks. No movie star, but no slouch either.

Scening with him lately made her wet, and that didn’t happen with any other sub. The only thing since her loss that inspired something remotely approaching passion in her otherwise emotionally dead body.

“I’d like to ask you something and I want an honest answer, not some bullshit you think I want to hear. Understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“I know you’re divorced, but are you dating or involved with anyone?”

“No, Mistress.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I’m too busy.”

“You find time to see me.”

“I need to see you.”

She leaned back in her chair and studied him for a moment. “Why?”

“I can’t afford to be outed. If I have a choice between spending my free time seeing you to get what I need, or spending my time trying to troll bars or Craigslist for a date, I’d much rather spend it with you.”

Well, I wanted honesty. “If I was someone you met somewhere, outside of our business arrangement, am I someone you would go out with?”

He hesitated to answer.

“I want honesty. Regardless of your answer, it won’t count against you in any way.”

“Honestly?”

“Yes.” Now she wished she hadn’t asked. She had a feeling her ego was about to get slammed into the fucking basement.

“I think you’re beautiful. If the situation were different, I would do nearly anything for a chance to go out with you.”

Oh.

Oh!

“Really?”

He nodded. “Really.”

She sat back and studied him some more, not sure if she liked the way his answer made her feel.

The anticipation.

Hope.

She didn’t want to feel hope. Hope was for chumps. Hope was what got her fucking heart broken five years ago.

“Would you ask me out?”

“I can’t.”

Aaaaand, there we go. “Why not?”

He looked at the table. “You told me when we first started that wasn’t allowed. That was one of the rules you said if I ever broke, it would immediately end our arrangement.”

Oh.

Oh!

“That’s right, I did.” She considered him. “If the rule wasn’t there?”

He looked up at her, unmistakable hope on his face. “Then I would ask you out on a date.”

She took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before blowing it out again. “I’m going to do something I never do and tell you a little about myself. I don’t date. I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m completely single. But if I go out on a ‘date’ with someone, I don’t want to go out on a date with my

‘boy.’ Unless I’ve told him that’s what I want. In real life, I am not Mistress Cardinal. If someone asks me out on a date, I want them to ask me out because they want to get to know me in real life, not because they think they’re getting a freebie or because they want a full-time Domme in their life. I want someone who wants me for me, not just the parts that get their rocks off.”

He nodded. “I understand.” He looked like he wanted to say something else.

“What is it?”

“May I ask you a question, Mistress?”

She nodded.

“If I was to ask you on a date, what would you want me to call you?”

She smiled. “I would want you to call me by my name. Matilda. Well, Tilly. I prefer Tilly. I don’t like Matilda.”

“That’s beautiful.” He sounded sincere. Bob always sounded sincere. He’d never been a “do me” sub. He’d always let her set the tone and pace since their initial evaluation. He never asked. He was a good boy.

“Thank you.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “May I ask you something else?”

“Sure.”

When he leaned in, she felt his energy shift. Her “boy” was gone, and Bob now sat in his place across the table from her. Not a hint of submission in his posture. She suspected this was how the rest of the world saw him. His gaze grew intense. “Tilly, I’d like to take you out to dinner tonight, if you’d let me.”

A delicious shiver passed through her body as she nodded.

She quickly changed into a blouse and skirt and flats. Normally, Mistress Cardinal wore spiked heels for sessions, but those were murder on her feet. Tilly usually went barefoot around the house, or wore sneakers or comfy sandals or Crocs whenever possible, even though Mistress Cardinal had an image to uphold.

Bob stood by the front door. Not a boy waiting for his Mistress, but a man waiting for his date.

He didn’t display the slightest sign of impatience.

She stopped him before they stepped out the door. “Hold on. Come here.” Without the normal six-inch heels she wore during his sessions, he stood nearly a foot taller than her. When he leaned over she unlocked his collar, removed it, and laid it on the entryway table by her front door. “That’s better.”

He smiled. “Thank you, Tilly.”

She liked the way her name sounded coming from his mouth. “How far do you live from here?”

“My condo’s twenty minutes away.”

“I want to stop by there first, before we go eat.”

“Okay.”

She studied him. “No questions?”

He shrugged. She also liked that gesture from him. Easygoing. “I just figured you wanted to make sure I didn’t have any bodies laying around.” She loved his playful smile.

He could make her laugh, too. Bonus points.

He still insisted on getting doors for her. More bonus points. He was a gentleman. On the way to his condo they talked about music. She was surprised to find out he liked a wide variety of music from classical to heavy metal and they had many favorites in common. He loved to read, did a lot of it.

He collected Hallmark ornaments.

That last point surprised her. He nervously ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know. My mom used to buy them, then when she got older, after my dad died, I started buying them for her because I didn’t want her spending the money on them. Then she died and I…”

He shrugged and glanced at her. “Is that weird?”

She burst out laughing again. “I’m sorry,” she said when she finally composed herself. “You come to me for certain things,” she said, “and you’re asking me if collecting ornaments is weird?”

He smiled, then he laughed. He had a nice laugh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I never thought about it like that.”

“I not only think it’s not weird, but I think it’s sweet.”

She watched while he drove, confident, one arm slung over the wheel, not too fast, no sudden stops, no pissing contest jumps from the line at a light.

Calm.

His condo lay in a gated golf course community. She knew it was his place because she’d seen his driver’s license when he first started seeing her, had written his address and info down for safety.

That was when she still felt super-paranoid. Since then, she’d relaxed a lot, weeded odd clients out before she ever took them on.

“I don’t golf,” he said, “but I liked the landscaping. I also didn’t want to deal with a yard or maintenance. I’m too busy normally.” He led her up to his door, unlocked it, and let her go first.

Inside, he tossed his keys on a table near the entry and flipped on the lights.

Nice.

Not a pig sty, which had been her first worry. Not anally-retentive neat, either. Lived in, clean, tidy. She never had to pay a cleaning company to come in because she had a string of clients who paid her for the privilege of doing it for her. If it wasn’t for that, her house would look about like his. Lived in, but not perfect.

He picked up a few books and his mail, which lay scattered on the coffee table. “Sorry. Wasn’t expecting company.” He offered her a slightly bashful smile.

The walls of his den were lined floor to ceiling with books. She found the kitchen clean, a rinsed breakfast bowl and coffee mug in the sink. Counters tidy. His bedroom, also neat. Bed made, but not crisp, just the covers pulled up. At least he’d made the attempt.

She walked into the bathroom. Clean enough. Clothes in a hamper, towel folded and hanging from a rod.

He leaned against the bedroom doorway. “Do I pass inspection?”

She nodded. “Actually, you do.”

“I was kidding.”

“I wasn’t.” She turned to him. “I’ll let you in on another secret very few people know. There’s a reason I haven’t let anyone into my life in the past few years. I was burned in a bad way by someone I trusted. I don’t trust easily anymore.”

“I get that.”

“Will that be a problem?”

He shook his head. “Not really. Considering I trust you not to take pictures of me during our sessions and post them on the internet later, I think we’ve already got a pretty solid foundation of trust there.”

The look on his face made her laugh again. “Okay. I promise no more über-bitch tonight. I’m sorry.”

He stepped out of the way to let her pass as she walked back to the living room. “No, it’s okay,” he said. “I get it.”

“You do?”

He picked up his keys and shut off the lights. “I’ve been to your place. You’ve never been here.

You wanted to make sure I wasn’t some grungy lying asshole. Or married. If I hadn’t let you come here, you would have wondered what the hell I was hiding.”

“Or who.”

“Yeah. I get it.”

She turned on him. “No,” she softly said, “I don’t think anyone can get it if they didn’t see me back then and know what I went through. Maybe…” She looked up at him. He had beautiful blue eyes.

Thank god they aren’t brown, like… “Maybe one day, if we get to that point, I’ll let you go talk to Ross and Loren. They’ll tell you. Then you will definitely get it.”

downtown Sarasota. He didn’t ask her where she wanted to go, he simply picked a place. She would have been happy with something more modestly priced, but he got another A for effort.

They had a good dinner and a very long conversation about any and everything. Vanilla.

Totally vanilla.

They shut down the restaurant, and when he drove her home he walked her to her front door.

She looked up at him. “Let’s say this is the normal end of a first date. What would you do next?”

He smiled and stepped in. She suspected—hoped—he’d kiss her. Instead, he reached for her hand and gently clasped it in his. He lifted it and feathered his lips across her knuckles. It wasn’t anything at all like the other times he’d kissed her hand.

It felt sensual. Seductive. His eyes never left hers.

Part of her wanted to drag him inside and fuck his brains out. Maybe her body wasn’t as dead as she thought. It was the first time since her new life started that she’d felt like that.

“On a first date,” he said, “I’m always a gentleman.”

She didn’t miss the strong, dominant undercurrent in his voice, the sensual timbre normally not there when on his knees at her feet.

“What if it wasn’t our first date?” she gasped. “What if it was, like, our fifth or sixth date?”

“Do you want me to tell you or show you?”

She swallowed hard. “Show me.”

The corners of his mouth curled in a sexy smile. He stepped in, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her. He didn’t maul her, he tenderly brushed his lips over hers until she really wanted to drag him inside and fuck his brains out.

Then he lifted his head. “I’m not going to push my luck and ask if you’d like to see what I’d do if we really got to know each other better.”

She laughed, letting her head rest on his chest.

A nice broad, strong chest.

He kept his arms around her, actually holding her and not just politely resting there. She took a minute to enjoy the feeling before stepping back and fishing around in her purse for her keys.

“Bob, thank you for tonight. I really appreciate it. I had a wonderful time.”

He took her keys from her, unlocked her door, and pushed it open before handing them back.

“Thank you for letting me take you out, Tilly. I hope you’ll let me do it again.”

For once she let her instincts dictate her next statement without the filter of her super-cautious heart getting in the way. “If you could say something to Tilly right now, not Mistress Cardinal, what would it be? A total freebie.”

He smiled and reached up, gently brushed a finger over her cheek and along her jaw. “I know

Mistress Cardinal runs a business and I respect that. But I would love to spend more time with Tilly, outside of work. I hope Tilly finds me worthy to trust me enough to let me in more often, because I think she is a beautiful woman with a spectacular heart. If Tilly ever tells me who the hell hurt her and destroyed her trust…” His face darkened. “I’d love a shot at punching the fucker. I would hope that Tilly and Mistress Cardinal both know me well enough to know that I am not a violent man.”

Her breath caught. His eyes had never left hers. She threw her arms around him again and kissed him, hard, wanting more but sensing he wouldn’t let her rush tonight.

She let him come inside to get his collar. She started to put it on him, then hesitated. “I have a new client coming tomorrow for an initial evaluation at five. I’ll be free after six. If you’re not busy, would you come pick me up and then let me buy you dinner?”

“May I make a suggestion?”

She nodded.

“How about I bring stuff over to make you dinner?” He smiled. “Bob can cook dinner naked as well as any boy can.”

She started laughing. “Wanting to mix business and pleasure?”

He laughed with her. “Okay, sorry. How about I cook for you and we have a nice dinner and discussion, and then, your choice, Bob or boy can clean up the kitchen?”

“You won’t let me buy you dinner?”

He shrugged. “I’m old fashioned. Maybe once you get to know me better like that, then I’ll feel more comfortable. For now, I’d prefer to buy dinner. I can afford it.”

He was cute, a gentleman, and so far the weirdest thing about him was that he collected

Hallmark ornaments.

Well, besides the kinky shit, and that she could handle.

“What’s the dark secret in your closet?” she asked, all teasing gone. “Seriously. What is the worst skeleton in your closet that would blindside the hell out of everyone if people found out about it in the future?”

He took her hand again and kissed it. The passionate, sensual kiss of Bob, not boy. “Mistress Cardinal.”

They agreed he would come over at six. Normally she would schedule a window of decompression after an appointment, but if she had him coming over it would discourage Landry and his slave from hanging around.

Truth be told, she looked forward to Bob making her dinner.

She stripped and went to bed, her mind spinning and a smile on her face.

She wouldn’t—couldn’t—call it love. But she wouldn’t deny liking the feeling she got when she closed her eyes and realized she could now clearly picture Bob’s face in her mind, especially his beautiful blue eyes.