I wasn’t sure if it was the high doses of medication or possibly the pain, but like Val had said, as Stewart’s illness progressed, he seemed to be striving for any semblance of control. To that end, I even tried to sleep in his bed last night, but after the second round of nurses came in before midnight, I gave up. Something was up about his vitals and the monitors kept chiming. Everyone was on alert. Honestly, after they increased his pain medication, I’m not sure he even knew I wasn’t in his bed.

This morning when I went to his room, he seemed weaker than the day before. As a matter of fact, when I left the apartment, he hadn’t yet been moved from his bed to his wheelchair. Nevertheless, he was still his demanding self. When I told him I had errands, he informed me that he’d already made plans. I was to be at the warehouse and prepared for an 11:00 AM visit. Though my stomach twisted, the smile never left my lips as I consented. His friend had requested an early lunch meeting, and we didn’t want to disappoint him. Right!

As I waited for my husband’s voice and his friend’s arrival, I held out hope that I could still make it to the Viceroy and meet Brody. It all depended on the friend and what would be involved with today’s meeting. Instead of allowing my thoughts to linger in that direction, I concentrated on Brody. What would he tell me about the will?

It was undoubtedly after eleven and still no word from Stewart, only the ghostly music coming through my headphones. I fought with the desire to remove my blindfold. Stewart had always been the one to secure it. Now that I was on my own, I momentarily entertained the idea of keeping it loose. If I did, perhaps I could see the friend. But then I remembered the realization of Parker. Did I want that? I couldn’t get wet for these men. Did I want to truly know their identities?

The bed shifted, bringing me to the present.

Still, all I heard was music.

A cool hand traced an insubstantial trail from my hand to my collarbone. Then, another touch explored my other arm. Again the bed shifted. I knew this person was now straddling my waist. My hyper-alert senses felt each of his knees on either side of me as well as the heat of his presence above.

My mind told me to open my mouth, but ever since this cruel game began, every one of my movements had been choreographed. Never had I been expected to depend on my own intuition—never here, never at the warehouse. Where was Stewart?

Warm peppermint breath skirted my neck and a sense of unexpected relief loosened my overwrought nerves. I knew this man. I didn’t know his identity, but I knew his peppermint scent. He was kind, as kind as someone could be having sex with another man’s wife.

Some men had preferences and fetishes they enjoyed. Apparently, Stewart enjoyed most of them too. Not Peppermint Man: he was reliably vanilla.

Reverent hands fondled my breasts, pulling and teasing my nipples. I wondered who he was. Did I know him outside of this room? Did I know his wife? As much as I was in the dark, figuratively and literally, with these men, I imagined their wives were too. Did they have any idea that their husbands enjoyed sex with a restrained partner?

It wasn’t that my hands or feet were ever tied or that Stewart ever used the gag he mentioned on my first visit. No, my restraints were invisible and more binding. My restraints were my sister’s future and perhaps even that of the Harrington Society clinics. Yet, as Peppermint Man began to rub his cock between my breasts, I knew those restraints were deteriorating by the moment. If they weren’t, I’d be hearing Stewart’s voice.

Fatal Lullaby and Death Dance had ended long ago as the soundtrack continued its eerie play. Peppermint Man moved his cock to my mouth, teasing my lips and chin as he coated my face with his pre-come saltiness. When I didn’t respond, fingers came to my mouth prying and encouraging me to open.

“I’m here, baby.” Stewart’s voice came through the headphones. I barely recognized his voice, our connection filled with static as if utilizing an old-fashioned phone line and not a technologically advanced sound system. “Nod if you hear me.”

I nodded, surprised by my own relief at hearing the familiar command. As much as I hated this, I needed him present. Yet, with each distant sounding sentence, I was reminded of his weakened state.

“Open for him. Let him fuck your mouth.”

The music resumed, from the beginning of the track, and I did as he said. Slowly, the cock inside my mouth came to life: growing as it thrust in and out. Course hair scratched my chin and cheeks as Peppermint Man buried himself to the hilt. When his rhythm increased, I prepared myself for his come; however, instead of filling my mouth, he pulled away.

“Roll over,” came the direction though the crackling connection. “Let’s see that sexy ass.”

I did as Stewart demanded and released the spindles and rolled to my knees.

“Up on all fours.” The static made his words difficult to decipher. “We want to see those titties swing as he drills into you. Nod if you understand.”

Nodding, I worked to right myself. I hated this position. It was difficult to not fall forward. As I fought the blindness to secure my steady balance, Peppermint Man gently pushed my knees apart, fingered my folds, and spread my fake arousal around my entrance. Then without warning, the cock that had been in my mouth—now wrapped—pushed inside my sex. Peppermint Man’s fingers dug into my hips, directing me: pulling and pushing, plunging deeper and deeper until his balls slapped my ass. With each thrust my heavy breasts swung forward and back. It was just as Stewart had orchestrated. Even from the distance of our penthouse apartment, or hopefully from the gates of hell, he was able to plan it all.