Blackestnights Read Free Page A

readily next time I tell you to do something.”
    “It’s just we’re in public. I was uncomfortable—”
    Clamping his fingers against my cheeks, he said, “You aren’t supposed to be comfortable. No excuses.”
    When he released me, he motioned to the waitress. She scurried over. Black ordered for both of us—ahi sashimi and calamari to start with. I didn’t bother to mention I don’t like calamari. I knew it wouldn’t do any good.
    * * * * *
    After dinner—during which I discovered that properly prepared calamari is delicious—Black walked me to my apartment building. Folding me in his arms, he kissed me gently. His tenderness surprised me. Was he supposed to be kind to me? I didn’t understand, but clearly he could do as he pleased.
    As he receded, a half-smile played on his lips. “Good night, little Red.”
    “When will I hear from you?” I asked.
    “When you hear from me.”
    With that, he turned to leave.
    I watched him disappear down the block. He didn’t look back.

Chapter Two
     
    For our first play session, I arrived early, reciting, “Scarlet, slow. Midnight, stop,” as I parked in his driveway. Once I’d inspected my makeup and smoothed my black skirt and spaghetti-strap blouse, I propelled myself out of the car. The humid night air threatened to kink up my hair. A smile on my lips, I hoped my hair wouldn’t be the only thing kinked up that night. My stomach did flip-flops at the thought of what Black had in store for me.
    At 8:55, I knocked on his door. I heard him moving inside the house, but he didn’t answer.
    A couple minutes passed and still I stood on his porch, the crickets chirping in the cooling night air. Maybe he hadn’t heard my knock. I rang the doorbell.
    Another minute or so passed and every second that ticked by left me feeling foolish. Why was he making me wait? Finally out of patience, I fished my cell phone out of my purse and hit the auto-dial for his number.
    As soon as Black jerked open the door, I knew I’d made a mistake. Lips downturned, eyes narrowed, he folded his arms over his chest.
    The intensity of his stare unnerved me.
    Fixing my gaze on the ground, I offered an explanation though he hadn’t demanded one. “I wanted to be sure I was on time.”
    “But you aren’t on time, you’re early. Nine o’clock means nine o’clock.”
    “Oh. I’m sorry.”
    “Go into the dining room and sit.” He moved aside to let me pass. “To your left.”
    Hurrying to do as instructed, I didn’t have much time to take in the decor of the house. Once I’d taken a seat, I studied the austerity of the mission-style dining table, chairs and china cabinet. One massive photo—at least four feet by six feet—hung on an otherwise bare wall. It depicted a close-up of a fig sliced in half. So suggestive of female genitalia was the imagery that I found myself averting my eyes, sneaking furtive glances. Every time I dared to look at it for more than a couple of seconds, my cheeks burned and butterflies flitted around my stomach.
    The door clicked shut and I heard his footsteps head in the opposite direction. Then he returned, cell phone in hand. Drawing his finger across the screen, he turned it so I could read. The glowing display showed his call log.
    “Read the most recent entry,” he said.
    “It says Red.”
    “And is it an incoming call or an outgoing one?”
    “Incoming,” I mumbled. I knew exactly what I’d done wrong.
    “I said never to call me.” He grabbed me by the hair and I flinched, more out of surprise than pain. He wasn’t pulling all that hard…yet.
    “I’m sorry.” I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, excited by the control he exerted over me.
    Setting the phone aside, he moved behind me. Leaning down, he let his lips brush past my ear. I could feel his breath on my cheek and neck. Inhaling his cologne, I closed my eyes, my heartbeat quickening.
    “You don’t listen.” He tightened his grasp, shaking me a little. I gasped, the pain