Beauty and Pain Read Free

to remain secret, or shall we be honest?”
    He smiled and lifted one hand to rest a finger beneath his chin. “Honesty has served us well so far, don’t you think?”
    It had, and I smiled to show I agreed. “So your name is?”
    “Gabriel. And yours is?”
    “Isabella.”
    “Very nice. Has a sexy ring to it.”
    I hadn’t thought of my name as being sexy, but if he thought so, I’d take that. I’d take anything he cared to give me—particularly if it had the kind of bent I was after. But not everyone was into what I was. I’d have to do some gentle probing to see if he was.
    I laughed. “Oh, I don’t know, there are far more sexy things than the name Isabella.”
    “Like what? Tell me.”
    “I could, but you may not want to speak to me again. What I find sexy might not be your cup of tea.”
    “There’s only one way to find out.”
    The train interrupted us again, beginning its slow glide out of the station. At this point I usually stared through the window and watched as the bridge above the train seemed to be peeled away, like a large, unseen hand was lifting it from a model railway to relocate it elsewhere. Then the daylight appeared, the sky spotted with gray-bellied clouds and a few crows coasting the airwaves. A metal stairway to the right on the opposite platform, the top of which reached a glass-enclosed bridge that joined one side to the other, came next. After that, nearly naked trees, abundant evergreen bushes, then some outskirt houses gave way to countryside.
    But this morning I didn’t see any of that. All I saw was Gabriel smiling at me, the sparkle of anticipation in his eyes. It was as though he was testing me, pushing to see if I had the courage to tell him what I thought was sexy. He had confidence, quite a bit of it from what I could gather, although it didn’t come across as arrogance. At a guess I’d say he knew what he wanted but with me he’d bided his time, made sure I was interested. A bit like I’d been with him. And he’d already said he didn’t usually touch someone he didn’t know.
    So why had I been different?
    I repeated what he’d said. “There’s only one way to find out, yes.”
    I glanced at the woman beside me then the man beside him. Both were busy looking out of the window, the woman’s tinny music just about audible over the hum of the train.
    Safe that I wouldn’t be overheard by those sitting in front and behind us, I said quietly, “What do you think of whips?”
    He sat up straighter, my question obviously startling him, and moved the finger beneath his chin up to partially cover his mouth. He appeared to be thinking, furrowing his brow and looking down at the aisle floor.
    “It depends. In what context?” he asked.
    “To use while having sex,” I said quietly but firmly.
    “I see.” He looked back up then slid his eyes from side to side before resting his gaze on me. “I enjoy them.”
    Now I was surprised. I hadn’t taken him for the sort who liked a bit of kink, even though I’d hoped he was. “And floggers? Same answer?”
    He nodded. “Yes, although I prefer the cat.”
    So he knew exactly what he was talking about, then. This was better than I’d ever dared hope.
    “It’s my favorite too.” I leaned across a bit more and whispered, “So many strands hitting all at once. It’s like a large, hot hand with a million fingers.”
    He smiled again, his eyes glazing as if he were remembering a time when he’d felt the lash or had administered it. He shook his head slightly then refocused on me. “Had we managed to find a place on here to…get to know one another better, there wouldn’t be enough room to use any of those things.”
    A bubble of excitement popped inside me that he’d been thinking along the same lines as me—fucking on a speeding train. “No. Shame, that.”
    “It is. I doubt there’s anywhere on here where we could be alone at all.”
    “Hmm.”
    I cast my mind back to when I’d been late for work a few weeks